#please please please do not be an injury/potential injury i have had ENOUGH of back injuries

[palms-upturned]

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[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 2

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aemond targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: slightly violent aegon?, angst (from jace & aegon)

a/n: thank you for the ridiculous amount of support on part 1??? i think it’s my best stuff yet so thank you sm. a few people have commented/dm’d to be added to a taglist, so let me know if you’re interested in that!

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

It was three days of solitude before anyone had visited your chambers. Guards stood outside your door day and night, ensuring you remained in place, and the window was much too high to jump without injury, potentially death.

The door had only opened for a particularly selected group of handmaidens who were tasked with bringing you meals and libations. You stared at the fireplace, not even bothering to turn your head when you heard the familiar noise like clockwork.

“We are to begin wedding preparations in the morrow,” Aemond spoke.

The voice was unexpected. You shifted in your chair until you were twisted enough to see him. He had left you in here for three days, alone, bored, and for what? You had tried everything to find a way to escape, but every inch of your chamber’s portion of the Red Keep was watched constantly, and there was not much in the room with you.

“You bore me,” you hissed, “even after three days with no one speak to, you manage to find a way to expunge any chance of titillating conversation with one single line.”

Aemond sighed and bowed his head, his hands clasped behind his back. “I ask you to please make this less difficult, My Lady.”

“You do not have the right to call me My Lady,” you said, standing up and walking over to him, “you have imprisoned me. You seem too noble to do such a thing to someone you think a lady.”

Aemond’s nostrils flared in frustration. A portion of his hair fell from behind his ear, landing in front of his face as he dipped his head even further. “My apologies.”

You did not expect him to say such a thing. “You think yourself sorry?” you asked.

“Despite your preconceived notions,” Aemond started, lifting his head back up to look at you, “I do not wish to offend you.”

Without wasting a single second, you responded, “then allow me to take leave from this room.”

“No.”

“And why not?” you protested.

“Please, Miss Stark, do not make this more difficult than is necessary.” He was growing tired of your quick wit and temperament. He did not think you would be such work.

You scoffed. “My most impactful talent is making everything more difficult than necessary, My Prince. Tell me what I have to do to persuade you to let me out of this room.”

“I am under strict orders from The King to ensure you maintain your position,” he told you.

“I thought the fearsome Aemond Targaryen would not allow his manhood to be squandered by his own brother,” you said, “but I see I was mistaken.”

“Despite your attempt to poison me against him, he is my brother, and he is the King. I will remain loyal to his cause.”

“As your wife, I would hope you remain loyal to me.”

“You are not my wife yet.”

“So do not force me to be,” you said, ending the conversation and walking back to the fireplace, taking your all-too-familiar seat.

“You give up too easy, Miss Stark,” Aemond spoke, clearly unsatisfied with the conclusion to your conversation.

“I do not give up, My Prince,” you responded, “I am simply tired of the sound of your voice.”

Aemond sighed. He understood why you were so cold toward him- he had begun to burn your home, he had forced your hand in a betrothal orchestrated by his brother, and now you were secluded to guest chambers for three days with no explanation.

“My brother fears for your safety, if you were to take your leave and wander the Keep,” Aemond spoke after a moment.

You laughed. You laughed so ridiculously audibly that Aemond did not have to question if it was genuine. “You expect me to believe that The King has any concerns for my safety? I am in here because he fears me, that much I know. I only wish to know when he intends to let me out. I cannot be quarantined forever.”

“What is it you wish to do with all this freedom you so dearly wish for, hm? You wish to wed your bastard prince?” Aemond retorted, beginning to grow annoyed with your constant protestations.

“And how would I return to Winterfell, or even travel to Dragonstone? I do not ride dragons, Aemond. I cannot sail, I cannot ride horseback- I was never taught to do anything but run. I cannot run all the way back to Winterfell. What do you think me capable of if you let me out? You think me capable of returning home? If it is such, you are not as intelligent as you portray yourself.”

“You cannot ride horseback?”

You were growing angrier and angrier. “That is the portion of my statement that you clung to?”

Aemond felt bad. He did not realize you were never taught things that he assumed were basic- he realized he did not know much about your upbringing. He knew that you and your brother were the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, which means your father must have passed away when you were young, and it seemed as if the man had sheltered you from learning. He sympathized with why you seemed to eager to leave your room.

“I will only let you out with your agreement to an escort,” Aemond spoke, holding his head up high and returning to a proper, formal stance.

“I do not wish to be babysat.”

“You do not have a choice.”

“And who is to escort me?” you asked, “yourself? The King? Will that allow him to keep an even closer eye on my whereabouts? Was locking me in a room and ensuring I cannot leave not enough?”

“I will escort you myself until I know you can be trusted,” Aemond responded.

“I assure you I cannot be.”

“Must you be so combative?”

You shrugged your shoulders casually. “If you think me combative now, a marriage between us would kill you.”

Aemond remained stoic, attempting to calm your temper down with his gentle demeanor. “Where do you wish to go?”

“I wish for you to take me to the Street of Silk.”

Aemond was completely bewildered. That was perhaps the last place he anticipated- what could you possibly want there?

“I will take you no such place.”

“You agreed to let me out on the only condition of an escort just moments ago,” you fought, “you cannot retract your word, unless your cock is truly as small as they say it is.” It was a low blow, but you were eager and annoyed, and you simply wanted out. You didn’t care if you had to bruise Aemond’s ego to get what you wanted.

“What do you need in the Street of Silk?” he questioned, refusing to drop the subject.

“It is no business of yours.”

Aemond contemplated his options, an idea popping into his brain. “If I do this, you will agree to acknowledge our betrothal and renounce your betrothal to my nephew.”

“Then you will allow me to inform him via raven myself. And you will not intrude on the contents of my writings.”

“You truly believe yourself to be in a position of negotiation?”

“And you will not intrude on the contents of my writings,” you repeated, drawing his attention back to responding to you.

You exchanged an intense glance, searching each other’s eyes for any signs of weakness that the other could exploit. You stood your ground, just as he stood his.

“It is too risky to allow you access to ravens without allowing anyone to read what you intend to send,” Aemond tried to level with you.

You stood up to him, getting directly in his face. “You will not intrude on the contents of my writings, or you will have to drag me down the aisle, kicking and screaming.”

“You negotiate quite a lot for someone I could easily leave in here to rot,” Aemond fought back.

“I will not beg you, Aemond,” you warned, “but I will ask you to please accept the terms of this deal.”

“Okay,” Aemond finalized, “we have a deal.”

“Then we best get going,” you said, stepping aside and walking away, not bothering to turn around to check that he was following you. The moment you were out of the room, you did not need him, and you did not care if he truly accompanied you. You knew he would, and he did, swiftly catching up to you and walking directly beside you. You desperately wanted to remain in control of the situation, but you were unsure of your current whereabouts, and you did not know your way around.

You and Aemond did not speak. He escorted you out of the Red Keep and through the streets of King’s Landing, denying any guards who attempted to remain by either of your sides. He did not need to clarify when you had arrived at your desired destination, for the sudden abundance of moaning, cups, and nakedness alerted you as such.

“You may tend to your business now,” Aemond said.

“I thought you were hellbent on sticking by my side?” you said, more a question than a statement.

“I must attend to my own personal business,” he told you, “if I am not to inquire upon yours, I should hope you will extend me the same courtesy.”

You nodded your head slightly, but enough for Aemond to notice. “Who is to say that I will not run the second I am out of your sight?”

“Do you wish to be here or not?” Aemond snapped, “meet me back here by dawn, lest you risk not only my brother being alerted of your empty chambers, but your freedom ceased entirely.”

“Fine,” you replied, “go on, then.”

Aemond gave you a nod, turning away from you and entering a brothel a few doors down, walking through the street as if the path to the specific place was second nature. You looked around, attempting to decide on a building, when you realized you could have just followed Aemond.

When you entered the whorehouse, you were taken aback by how different it was from that of Winterfell. There were seldom any candles, the rooms remaining dimly lit. A woman sat behind a bar, tending to the cups of the men who were not exploring their own pleasure. You approached the bar with confidence, seating yourself.

“Rare I see a lady who doesn’t work for me in here,” the woman spoke, “what will you have?”

“Employment, if possible,” you answered, “under certain terms, of course.”

The woman chuckled. “And what makes you worthy of employment?”

You looked around the vicinity, ensuring that no one around could hear your next words as you leaned over the bar. “Give me 10 minutes with any of your most valued customers, and I guarantee you they will speak well on my behalf.”

The woman smiled. “You got a name?”

“Not when I am here.”

“I don’t do none of that,” she responded, “even if my customers don’t, I am to know the names of those I employ.”

You leaned even further over the bar, lowering your voice to an almost-whisper. “I am a Stark, ma’am. That makes my cunt worth more than anyone in here put together.” You didn’t mean the words, not believing in placing a value on women, but you knew it would strike a chord with her.

She looked at you in admiration and confusion. “What would a Stark be doing in King’s Landing, asking the likes of me for employment?”

“That is her business alone,” you replied, “but she is here, and she is ready to work.”

Her smile widened, her expression changing from uncertainty and skepticism to acceptance. “I’ve been looking for a headstrong girl like you,” she told you, “what are the terms you speak of?”

“I wish for you to be the only one who knows my true name. I do not wish to be a Stark when I am here,” you began, “and I intend to only satisfy the clients who not only satisfy my desires in return, but who do not question me on my house. If one may recognize me, I wish for you to keep them from me.”

“Ah, you want selective clientele?” she clarified, “I only do that in special cases. Some of these girls have been here for ages without such a privilege. If you fuck in my whorehouse, you fuck under my rules.”

“I will give you larger portion of my earnings than your other girls do, should it ensure that my ‘selective clientele’ remain truly selective,” you bargained.

“You would be willing to do such things?” she asked.

“I come to you for employment for myself, not for the coin,” you assured her.

She looked you up and down, top to bottom, assessing every part of your body. “You have yourself a deal.”

She reached her hand over the bar, allowing you meet her hand with your own as you shook briefly, a gesture finalizing the terms of your employment.

✶

Jacaerys,

I am sure my brother has made you aware of the events in Winterfell. Your uncle threatened to burn my home, and when he proved good on his word, I had no choice but to appease him.

I am not sure what news you will receive in Dragonstone, but Aemond and I have come to an agreement that I will renounce our betrothal and acknowledge a betrothal to him. It is imperative that he believe me good on my word.

I wish for you to know that my words hold no true meaning. I will discover an escape from your uncle, and I intend to return home to wed you. I hope you will still have me. Please do not believe any word that is not mine.

You sent the raven first thing in the morning, Aemond assuring you could trust his word that he would not read or alter its contents. Something about the way he carried himself had you believing him, despite your better judgement.

Jacaerys was furious when he received the letter, storming off to the council room to confront his mother.

“They have kidnapped her!” he yelled, slamming his fist on the table as soon as he approached it, “they have kidnapped my betrothed and intend to force her hand to Aemond. Should we not act?”

His mother sighed. “We cannot afford to act on such a minute thing.”

Jace looked at her in confusion, turning to scan the faces of everyone else present, growing even more confused when they met him with pitiful stares. “How is this minute? I am your heir, and this is my betrothed they are exploiting. This is your future queen!”

“When dragons fight, everything burns,” Rhaenyra spoke, tone never breaking, “we cannot risk such a catastrophe over someone who is not even a Targaryen.”

Jace was livid, his face turning red with anger. “If we allow them to do this, we lose our allies in the North.”

“We do not need them, should Daemon be successful in his ventures in Harrenhaal.”

“How could you possibly be so blind?” Jace asked, no longer holding back, “we need the North, mother. I cannot fathom how you could disregard my future bride in this way.”

Rhaenyra sighed, “should Lady Stark wed Aemond, you may marry Baela, Jacaerys. ‘Tis not the end of the world.”

Jacaerys realized that it was impossible to win this argument. He slammed his fists on the table once more before storming off to his chambers, dropping onto a chair and placing his head in his hands.

He missed you. It was almost the date you two were to wed, and he was growing affectionate toward you, as you were with him. He was thrilled to receive correspondence from you, but the contents of the letter only added to his misery. He understood the position you were in, and he appreciated that you had no true intentions of wedding anyone but him, but he knew his uncle. If Aemond wanted her, and she was with him, Aemond would find a way to take her.

He was worried for you. He knew exactly who his uncle Aegon was, and though you could take care of yourself, you never had to do as such around Aegon. Aegon was forceful and cruel, and Jacaerys feared for what he may do to you because you could take care of yourself. Aegon did not take well to women who did not succumb to his will.

“Jace?” Rhaena said, opening the doors to his chambers slowly, afraid to overstep and upset him further.

“Rhaena, hey,” Jace said, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve, “what is it?”

“Are you okay?” Rhaena asked, approaching the fireplace and taking the seat next to him.

Jacaerys controlled his breathing, forcing himself to cease crying. “I am just frustrated is all.”

Rhaena gave Jace a pitiful smile. “You quite fancy her, this Miss Stark?”

Jacaerys let out a small chuckle. “Yes, I believe I quite do.”

“If she is all you speak that she is, she will be just fine,” Rhaena assured him, “if she can handle Aemond, she can handle anyone.”

“It is not Aemond I worry of.”

Rhaena sighed. Aemond was noble and his first priority was duty. He remained loyal to those he believed worthy of his loyalty, and despite how cruel he could be with a blade or with Vhagar, he would never hurt anyone for his own enjoyment. Aegon, on the other hand, spilled blood for the hell of it, and had nothing and no one who could calm him down when his fuse blew. He was ruthless, mean, and as king, he was capable of taking whatever he wanted, and burning anything he didn’t.

“I cannot see why Aegon would have any reason to bother her. They have taken her there for Aemond, after all.”

“Have you forgotten who Aegon is?” Jacaerys said, tears threatening to spill again, “he does not do well with those who do not show him favor. I fear for her safety.”

“She will return to you, Jacaerys, she wrote it so herself,” Rhaena said, attempting to remind Jacaerys of her written promises in an effort to calm him down.

Jacaerys took hold of Rhaena’s hand, showing his friend appreciation for her council, as his breathing calmed down and he watched the fire dance.

✶

“You let her send a raven to Dragonstone?” Aegon questioned, turning to Aemond in a fury, “tell me you read it, brother. Tell me you did not allow her to perpetuate this war by promising herself to Jacaerys again. Tell me you were not so stupid.”

“We have come to an understanding,” Aemond tried to explain, “and access to one raven was part of such.”

“You idiot,” Aegon sighed, walking away from his brother and pouring himself a drink.

“She remains here, with us. I do not see the issue. Regardless of her writings, our nephew does not have the confidence to dare try to enter King’s Landing. She has given me her word that she will acknowledge our betrothal.”

Aegon lifted his head up, cup in hand, as he turned back to Aemond. He lifted the cup toward Aemond’s chest, a finger pointed out, asking, “where were you last night, dear brother?”

“I know not of what you ask of me,” Aemond responded.

“You see,” Aegon started, taking a sip from his cup, “one of the large perks of being King, is that I may employ who I choose in such positions such as the King’s Guard. Quite nice having friends around, really. Only, just this morn, I was informed that you had not only visited our captive, but you let her out until sunrise.”

“That is quite the story,” is all Aemond said, monotone, his facial expressions remaining stoic so as not to give anything away.

“What reason would my King’s Guard have to lie?”

Aemond stepped closer to his brother. He would have been in Aegon’s face if they were the same height, but instead, he looked down upon his brother. “That is a question for them, brother. I know not of what lies they tell you.”

Aegon nodded. He always praised his brother for his loyalty to the crown, and to his family, and Aegon was almost incapable of believing that Aemond would ever betray his trust, especially if only based on the word of his friends.

“I wish to speak to her,” Aegon said, returning to a casual state, “will you inform her as such?”

Aemond nodded. “I will return shortly with her.”

Aemond went directly to your chambers, swinging the door open with carelessness to whatever your current state may be. Luckily enough for you, you were simply watching the fire.

“The King requests an audience with you.”

“He knows about the raven, does he?”

“Please, Miss Stark, I am here to accompany you to the throne room.”

You sighed, “I do not wish to go to the throne room.”

“He is the King,” Aemond reminded you, “you do not have a choice.”

“I always have a choice,” you responded, “I refuse to live without one. If your brother wishes to speak with me, he may either come to me himself, or he may let me out of this dreadful apartment permanently. You may tell him as much.”

Aemond did not try to convince you to accompany him- he knew you well enough to know it would be useless. He walked back to the throne room, alone, much to his brother’s dismay.

Aegon did not speak, but threw his hands up in exasperation. “She refuses to come,” Aemond spoke plainly.

“Tell her she does not have a choice.”

“I did,” Aemond began, “but she refuses to not have a choice. She says you may go to her if you wish to speak to her.”

“She did, did she?” Aegon said, amused and frustrated. “Very well, then.”

Aegon stood from the throne, walking past Aemond as he moved toward your chambers, Aemond close behind him.

He also had no regard to knock or announce his arrival, swinging the door open. “Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

“What do you want?” you asked, standing and facing him.

“Well, for starters, I want you address your King properly.”

You did not speak. You did not move. You simply just stared at him, unwavering in your stubbornness.

“Leave us, Aemond,” Aegon commanded. Aemond wanted to protest, but he looked into Aegon’s eyes, and knew it would be in everyone’s best interest to depart.

You folded your arms across your chest as you stared at him, refusing to speak to him until he made conversation worthwhile.

“My guards tell me you had quite the escapade last night with my brother,” he said.

“How am I to have ‘had quite the escapade’ when you quarantine me to this cell?”

“Aemond let you free, did he not?”

You scoffed. “Aemond is holding me prisoner just as much as you are.”

“Now, what did I do to deserve such combative spite from you?” he teased, “is this room alone not nicer than the entire kingdom of Winterfell?”

“Winterfell is my home, and you instructed your brother to burn it down if I did not accompany him back here,” you reminded him, “you are a coward. If you want an allegiance with the North, are you not capable of orchestrating such a thing yourself?”

Aegon tsked, stepping closer to you, “but you’re so much more fun.”

“Let me out of this room.”

“No.”

“Let me out of this room, Aegon.”

Aegon swiped his arm across the drinks table, knocking everything to the ground with a dramatic clash, glass breaking and shooting across the floor.

“Address me by my title!” he bellowed.

“You are but a whiny little baby,” you spoke, no sense of fear in your voice whatsoever.

Aegon took a deep breath, unable to hold back his rage. “Don’t you dare speak to me like this. I could have you hanged.”

“Hanging would be great relief from this conversation.”

Aegon was growing more and more furious by the second. He got in your face, spitting, “you are nothing. You are simply just a pawn in my game. I pity my brother for having to put up with you.”

“As you should,” you replied, “so long as you hold me hostage, I shall make you pity your own existence.”

Aegon’s face was turning red, his breathing quickening in anger the more you spoke. His fingers were curling and uncurling into fists, completely unsure of what could be an outlet for all this rage. He was mad, mostly at your stubbornness, but he did not want to seem irrational.

One of his hands moved upwards to grip your throat, pushing you back against a wall and holding your neck in place.

He kept his face close to yours for a moment, the hand around your throat squeezing enough to hold you in place, but not enough to obstruct your breathing entirely. “I’m going to make your life hell.”

“My life is already hell,” you spat back, breathing the best you could, “I am forced to spend it with the likes of you and your family.”

Aegon searched your eyes for any sense of fear or worry, but he found none. You were more stubborn than he realized, refusing to allow him any true control over you. Even with a hand around your throat, and his body pressed to yours, you refused to show any signs of weakness.

“I could make you a whore, you know,” he nearly whispered, “you think yourself so strong? What will you do when I have you trapped beneath me, using you for my own pleasure? Will you be so headstrong then?”

You did not dignify his words with a response. You, instead, decided to add insult to injury, spitting in his face. His hand immediately left your throat as he used his shirtsleeve to wipe off your spit from his face, taking a moment to process what just happened before his rage grew even more.

“That was a mistake,” he spoke, low.

“Kidnapping me was the mistake, Your Grace,” forcing evident sarcasm on your last two words so that Aegon knew you did not mean them. You were patronizing him.

“I’ll have you thrown in the dungeon with the rest of the scum.”

“I am already imprisoned, I do not care if you decide to change the scenery.”

Aegon was more frustrated than ever. He could not seem to find an insult that would strike a chord with you. He did not know how to weaken you, and that killed him.

“I’ll fuck you into submission like the whore they say you are,” Aegon hissed.

“If I am the whore they say I am, I dare say myself capable of fucking you into submission should you try anything, and then you would only be weaker.”

Aegon screamed. He didn’t scream a word or a threat, but a genuine outlet of frustration and pent up anger, before commanding, “bend the knee and renounce the False Queen. Now.”

“No.”

“Get. On. Your. Knees.”

“No.”

You did not think Aegon capable of surprising you, but in the next moments, he did just that. His rage was overtaking him, causing him to lose control over his emotions as they heightened and heightened, and he began to cry. His tone remained angry, his face still red hot, but tears began to fall.

“Renounce Rhaenyra,” he pleaded.

“No,” you maintained.

He was having trouble catching his breath, but you remained still, an immovable object he could not knock down. He began to take in sharp, quick breaths as he tried to calm himself down, but he was unable. He plopped down on one of the fireplace chairs, unable to remain standing, for he felt like he could not breathe. He was crying so hard he was nearly dry heaving from the intensity.

“Stop,” you said, trying to keep your voice strong, “this will not wear me down, Aegon, stop.”

He did not turn to you. He could not respond or even think about speaking. He continued to break down in the chair, his mask of strength slipping away, and he could do nothing to stop it, his emotions completely intruding in on and overwhelming his senses.

“Aegon, relax.” You did not want to comfort him. You loathed him. The longer he was in hysterics, the more you realized it was not a game, but you desperately tried to stop yourself from being kind to him in any way. After all, he had not been kind to you whatsoever.

“I- I can’t breathe,” he stuttered out, panic setting into his features. His heart rate was rapid, and his body was becoming weaker and weaker as his heart and his mind raced.

“Yes, you can,” you said, breaking your strength a bit, “focus on calming your breathing down.”

“C- can’t,” he coughed out.

You took a deep breath, knowing you would regret assisting him in any way once he was okay again, but you kneeled in front of him anyway, taking his hands in yours. “Focus on calming your breathing down,” you repeated, meeting his eyes with your own.

His eyes were red and swollen, his entire face wet from the tears and the panic attack. His cheeks were still rosy, having never calmed down from when his hand was around your throat. He looked somewhat beautiful.

Aegon looked at you, staring into your eyes as he tried to catch his breath, watching as you exaggerated your breathing in-and-outs as a model for him to follow. He stayed focused on your breathing, matching his own pace with yours, until he was calmed down, able to breath again, no longer hysterically crying.

When you noticed he had returned, you immediately went to pull your hands away, but he gripped your wrists before you could do so.

He sniffled, all of his strength completely gone, as his broken voice spoke, “thank you.”

You nodded at him, your stubbornness still present, refusing to give him a small smile or speak.

You went to stand and walk away from him, but his grip on your wrists only tightened.

“Let me go, Aegon,” you said.

He didn’t respond, he simply pulled you back toward him until you were standing in front of his seated figure. In a split second, so as not to allow you room to leave, he removed his hands from your wrists and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his head to your stomach as he hugged himself into your body.

You wanted to make a comment about him being weak rather than strong, about how you hated him, about how he owed you leave from your apartment, but words escaped you. In the moment, Aegon was not the cruel, bloodthirsty usurper, but a lonely, scared little boy who was clinging onto the one thing that was currently bringing him comfort.

He stayed in place for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of your body and the comfort of the hug. After several moments, he opened his eyes and pulled away from you, shooting up to stand. You exchanged a glance, but he did not speak, he simply exited the room, leaving you alone and imprisoned once again.

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @torchbearerkyle @dracaryxzs @hangmanscoming

[cutielando]

Hello, I saw that your requests are open so could you please write something about Charles taking care of his girlfriend after getting a knee surgery, I got surgery not too long ago (nothing serious) from playing football and I just feel like he would be such a caring boyfriend.

a/n: thank you so much for sending this in!❤️

my masterlist

Ever since you could remember, you have always been the adventurous type.

You would rather go exploring than stay in, the thrill of a potential adventure overpowering the need for a relaxing day in with the one you loved.

Which fitted perfectly with Charles’ need for adventuring and going on as many trips around the world as he could.

But there was a slight problem with that. With the adventurous thrill also came the danger.

And you were very prone to injuring yourself. Just like you had done on the last skiing trip you had gone on with Charles, right before the F1 season started up.

Adventuring a little too much on a not so safe skiing slope resulted in your falling and injuring your knee. An injured knee which required surgery.

You had been devastated when you found out you would need surgery. Not only would the recovery be horrendous and strenuous on your body, but it also meant that Charles would go out of his way to take care of you, neglecting his training in order to make sure you were okay.

That was the biggest problem in your eyes. Not the injury itself, not the surgery that you would need to have, but the fact that Charles would move the mountains in order to take care of you.

Which is exactly what happened. 

You had your surgery two weeks after your knee was injured, a mere couple of weeks before the season picked up again. Charles was proving to be a great caretaker, dotting on you and being the sweetest person ever.

He would bring you food, medicine and anything else you would need in bed, he would help you to the bathroom by supporting you. He got in touch with the best physiotherapist that he knew and immediately started your road to recovery.

He would take you to every single therapy session, every doctor’s appointment that followed your surgery to track your progress and your recovery.

He helped you exercise at home, urging you to push yourself in order to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

He would hold you every time you would break down because it would all get too much. The pain, the recovery, the pressure of getting better, the stress on your body. He would hold you through it all, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that would instantly calm you down.

You didn’t like feeling this helpless, like you couldn’t do anything on your own and practically lived at Charles’ pity.

You hated it.

And Charles had begun suspecting as much. He had noticed how closed off you had become over time, but he didn’t want to say anything that might make you feel even worse than you already did.

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” he asked one evening after you had got back from a particularly strenuous physical therapy session.

You smiled at him, shaking your head as you rested on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, I’m okay. Just a little tired” you lied smoothly, but it was not enough to convince him.

“Please don’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you ever since your surgery, don’t think I haven’t noticed” he said, sitting down beside you.

You sighed, biting your lip. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, everything that you had been bottling up threatening to boil over.

“I hate how dependent I have become on you” your voice was small, too worried that you could hurt his feelings.

Charles frowned, the wheels in his head turning to understand what you were really trying to say.

“Am I bothering you? Is that it?” he asked, his face sad and broken like a puppy dog’s.

You immediately shook your head, wanting to get up from the bed and comfort him but it would take you way too much time.

“No, don’t ever think that. It’s me that’s bothering you” you said, your frustrations slowly making their way towards the surface.

If Charles had been confused up to that point, he was even more confused now. How could you ever bother him?

“What do you mean? You’re not bothering me, what are you talking about?” he made his way towards you and took a seat next to you on the bed.

You sighed, tears slowly welling up in your eyes as you rested your head in your hands.

“It’s just this stupid surgery. I can’t even get up to go to the bathroom without needing your help. It’s pathetic, I can’t do anything on my own anymore” you cried silently, hiding your face in your hands.

Charles’ shoulders suddenly slumped into realization, his heart heavy. He didn’t say anything, instead he brought you into his arms and pushed your head into the crook of his neck, wary of twisting you too much because of your knee.

You let out strained and tired sobs, clinging onto Charles like your life depended on it. You had missed him, even though he’s been with you the entire time up until then. You had missed his touch, missed him holding you just because you both needed it. Both of you have been so preoccupied with your recovery, with taking your meds, going to physical therapy with Andrea and managing the pain that you forgot to be just Y/N and Charles, a couple.

You stayed in his arms for a while, just needing to let it all out. He understood that, holding you against him without saying anything, just planting kisses on your forehead from time to time.

Once you calmed down, you slowly pulled away from Charles, who wiped away your tears and gave you a small smile.

“Mon amour, I’m only going to say this once. You will never, ever in this life be a bother to me. I don’t care if I have to take care of you every single day for the rest of our lives, I would drop everything in a heartbeat to be with you. Don’t ever doubt how much I love you and the lengths I would go to just to see you happy and taken care of” Charles’ speech did nothing to stop your sobs, in fact they got even worse.

Charles knew it was the pain and frustration talking from you, and that you didn’t actually mean anything you had said to him. However, he didn’t mind one bit reassuring you and telling you anything that you might need in order to feel better.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled out once you started to calm down a little. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I get it, I would probably be the same if I were in your place. Just don’t ever doubt how much I love you and how much I enjoy feeling needed when you need me to take care of you” he joked a little at the end, bringing a smile to your face.

“I love you so much” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his lips down to yours.

Between salty kisses and whispered nothings, you realized that even through the rough patches, Charles would always be there to get you through everything.

Your caretaker for life.

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much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Sorry this request might be a little weird; Im gonna try and word it best I can. Can you do something with Alastor and the reader, who very slowly and maybe unintentionally became friends; where Alastor confesses his feelings and how much he cares for the reader... But the reader doesnt take him seriously? The reader basically doesnt think he is actually interested in dating them. The reader thinks its a joke, he is just trying to use them, or otherwise just trying to get something out of them. Not in like a distrustful way either. The reader has the attitude of 'oh yeah. The great radio demon who has girls falling at his feet and can get ANYONE he wants is interested in me? Right, good one.' Like its a self-esteem/self-worth thing stopping them from believing him. Oh and this is for Hazbin Hotel obviously, but just in case I had to say it.

Please Please Please~

(This honestly was me projecting because this is me anytime someone shows interest in me. I have horrible self-esteem issues lol)

When you woke in hell, you thought nothing of it, really. You did some good, and you sure did some bad, so maybe this was exactly where you were always supposed to be. You had no anger or frustration about your placement because you simply couldn’t care enough. Heaven or hell, you probably would still be fighting for something. If anything, you hoped you would just fall asleep in death, but where would the fun in that be?

Upon your arrival, a few things became quite clear: 1. It was a dog-eat-dog world here in hell, so be prepared for anything. 2. The more souls you own, the more powerful you are, so start making some friends to make just as many enemies. 3. You will always be less powerful and popular than the TV head and the Radio Demon.

The only downside is you never got to meet this Radio Demon. He had been missing for seven years, according to the streets, and long gone, but still, he was the talk of countless women and men, especially Vox. This wasn’t a surprise, though; how people explained his rise to power was even more impressive and unique to you. He would one day be a formidable foe if you crossed him, or would he? The last extermination was killer. Half your souls had been killed off, and you were left a lot weaker from an injury caused by angelic steel. A slash was going straight across your back from a poorly-timed dodge. You weren’t bad at fighting; you weren't good at it either. Usually, during exterminations, you would hide at the Vee’s tower or another notable place. However, unsurprisingly, you were kicked out after your loud denial of working with the Vees. 

Seeking refuge at the next best place, you stumbled upon the Hazbin Hotel. Delirious and in pain, it was indeed just a stumble into the lobby. Upon entering, you saw an excited and concerned blonde chick, someone with a spear, and then all that was left was just red—beautiful crimson red. 

Some days had to have passed; you only know this because your wounds were wrapped up, and the calendar in the room you were placed in had days since the extermination marked off. Five days you spent asleep resting and recouping. Though your body was mainly healed, the scar you saw on your back when you stood was anything but attractive. Sighing, you sat on the cold bathroom floor.

You were never much of a beauty in your mind. You were just simply good enough. Sometimes, you could seduce a soul into your clutches, win a soul gambling, and sometimes gain one from fighting—a jack of all trades, master of none. Yet now, your value has significantly decreased with a giant scare running across the expanse of your back. Sighing, you stood once more and decided you would figure out where the hell you were and who was stupidly kind enough to help you.

With your top half fully bandaged, you didn’t think about putting on a shirt. The idea of anything rubbing on your wound annoyed you greatly. So, being mindful of potential others, you walked around carefully, ensuring your bandages were tight. Looking around, it was a reasonably average hotel. Nothing was too crazy about it; it just had some eerie decor at the most.

Rounding the last corner, you found stairs that opened up to the lobby, and dear lord, above did you wish you stayed in your room. A loud, cheerful presence came bombarding you, shouting a hundred questions about your health, your name, and what happened. You almost wanted to retreat into the shadows at how brightly she shone when you agreed to stay at her hotel and take a shot at redemption.

You met the residents quickly after that. It's not like you had much of a choice anyway. Surprisingly, the one you clicked with the most was the famed Alastor, the Radio Demon. How you two clicked was beyond everyone, besides the fact you were cunning and a silver tongue speaker like the man himself. Maybe that is why he found you amusing and watched you work your magic on lulling Husk even into a secure enough place to talk to you.

His lack of asking for your soul surprised you more than anything. Though you knew Charlie had her rules in the hotel, that didn’t dissuade the Deer from making his own choices. You commended him for his poise and regality; you understood why he was the talk of the town even when Vox was trying so hard to be the new it boy. Alastor was handsome in a nonconventional way; he was refined, elegant, and poised. He treated women like a gentlemen and men like they were just one step below him. 

You wouldn’t lie to yourself and say you weren't enamored; you liked him a lot from just the first handful of conversations. However, one late night really sealed the nail in your coffin of love for the affamed Overlord. You two were sitting on the lobby chair, the long-forgotten bar, and a nursed bottle of Whiskey between you two. Each new glass only brought you two closer, having a lot of similarities. 

You also killed upon your time on earth as a means to protect the ones you cared about and end those who acted foolishly like them. You also died an untimely death at the hands of something out of your control. You were both quick-witted and capable of compelling those around you with your voice and words. The only significant difference was he was an Overlord, a beautiful, attractive overlord. At the same time, you were just a sinner with a few damned souls that saw potential in you.

After that night, you and Alastor grew a lot closer. You would even dare to call him your best friend, knowing that nothing more would ever come of your two relationship past that. Not only was Alastor continuously turning women and men down left and right, but Angel was convinced the man didn’t know what romance or sex was. You couldn’t help but agree with him as every beautiful person who crossed his path was quickly shooed away or disposed of. 

As the Adam-led extermination approached, you noticed Alastor took a particular interest in your training. You were opting for him to train you and approve your placement on the battlefield. Your heart soared at his kindness, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. He didn’t want to lose a like-minded friend, which was all this was. As you all prepared for the event, his sudden and lingering hug was just him being worried about a friend.

You would do and say anything to convince yourself he just saw you as a friend, even as he scolded you for your injuries after the battle. He just cared a lot about his best friend. You were nothing comparative in power and prestige as Alastor was, so he would never see you as more. This was all just a fond kindness he used with Niffty, Roise, and Mimzy. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be a fool and believe anything more would happen. 

As your affection grew for the Radio Demon, so did your self-doubt and negative self-esteem. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself like Mimzy, pining after a demon that would never love you. Your nights at the bar became more and more apparent enough that Husk took to talking to you and trying to help you out. This didn’t go unnoticed by the boss of said man. No, instead, jealousy was brewing inside of him, watching you grow closer to the cat demon. Jealousy that was soon to reach a head.

Alastor was utterly infatuated with you. You were a perfect mix of normalcy and insanity, something he admired dearly. You were not overbearing or clingy like Mimzy, not psychotic and wild like Niffty, and not motherly and borderline insane like Rosie. No, you were a perfect combination of what he loved in all his dear friends. That’s all you were right, a dear friend. It didn’t help that you stopped spending time with him and hanging around Husk; he grew irate. 

He needed help and fast; who better to turn to than his motherly companion, Rosie? Wanting to get you out of Husk's grasp, though he invited you along on the trip. It was pleasant. You wrapped around his arm as he led you through the streets, up until cannibal town people cowering at your feet. Once in cannibal town, though, the women came flocking. He was used to this, declining, pushing people away, and even allowing his shadows a meal or two. However, the frown on your face was the least of his expectations. He hadn’t long to question it before you two arrived at Rosie’s Emporium. 

As you two entered, you were immediately enamored with all of the goods Rosie had sold. Once quick introductions were out of the way, Alastor approached the side table to speak with his friend while you looked around more. His worries and fears were confirmed, though; he was, in fact, in love with you. Alastor wasn’t one to skimp on charm; he was a gentleman who would court you properly. 

After your visit to Rosies, you noticed a new change in Alastor. He was quite literally everywhere you were. You couldn’t get far without him complimenting you, giving you a gift, or asking you to accompany him on errands. You figured that your time secluding and hanging out with Husk might have made him think you didn’t want to be friends anymore. So, with a smile, you welcomed this change and stuck through it. Why not accept his doting behavior before he finally broke your heart and said he didn’t like dating or got a partner? 

This went on for months. The lingering touches, longer hugs, late-night talks, gifts galore, and, most importantly, him letting his guard down around you made you feel special. According to Husk, he hasn't done this with any of his other close friends. This made you almost hope that there was something more. Alastor had countless options, though, so of course, he would never choose you. Why would you allow him to embarrass you like that? 

After six months of pursuing you, Alastor believed he had amply courted you. He had enlisted the help of Charlie and Vaggie to set up the lobby so he could ask you to be his officially. The room was perfect: low lighting, candles, your favorite flowers, and food placed out. All that was missing was you there on his arm. He knew it was perfect for you, everything to your heart's desire. 

You were in shock as you entered the lobby after an impromptu errand Charlie needed to be done. You couldn’t even begin to understand what was going on. As you walked in, you saw Alastor sitting at the table before you, a large smile on his face. You looked at him quizically. “Uh, Al, what is all this?” He looked around awkwardly—that was the first time you saw that expression. “Well, Y/N, what does it look like? Of course, it's a date for us, in the hotel's safety.” You scrunched up your eyebrows, trying to process his words. “A date?” He seemed to be growing more tense by the moment; he expected you to be happy and excited, and you seemed to like his courting so much. “Yes, dear, we have been courting for some time now, which leads me to believe you were ready for a date. Was I mistaken?” You were taken aback. Are you courting? When did that happen? You looked at Alastor, trying to piece together the puzzles. Could he have liked you all this time? No, there is no way; he had so many options, so many better, less disfigured options. “Al, are you waiting for a different girl? Is this some like practice run for a person you want to date? You shouldn’t play with me like this. It’s not nice.” Alastor looked genuinely upset, only momentarily before his signature smile returned. “No, Y/N. This is for you. I have been courting you. Did you not realize my advances towards you? I have been avidly seeking you and you alone out.” You started to tear up. You wanted to believe him; you did, but it was hard. You weren’t the best; you weren’t the strongest. You had nothing going for you than surviving hell each day. “What, no? What do you mean? You can’t mean me. I am nothing, Alastor. I am nothing; I would just be embarrassing you. You are a powerful Overlord—a handsome, sought-after man. I am nothing. I am just here a sinner designed to fight through hell, that is all.” Alastor began to realize what you were getting at. You didn’t see yourself as being good enough for him. He never learned the toll you put yourself through watching person after person fall to his feet. You were watching him turn them all away and go about his day. You thought he was going to do the same to you. You thought you would never be good enough for him when you have always been what he wanted all along. 

“Oh, Y/N, no.” He rushed over to you, holding you close. Even as you fought to push him away, he stayed holding you close until you calmed. “Y/N, it has always been you. Yes, I am rough around the edges and have high expectations, but you meet them, Y/N. Can you not see how close and compatible we are since the day you moved in?” You stilled and listened. Could it be true that he liked you too this whole time? What if this was some sick prank to torture you? You looked up at Alastor, a genuine smile replacing his normal, calculated one. “Alastor, if I agree with this, you won't hurt me, right?” He sighed and held you close. “I can’t promise not to hurt you; I am an overlord and a selfish creature. However, I promise never to lie, cheat, or steal from you. I choose to love you and you alone, Y/N.” You smiled brightly and reached up, kissing his lips softly. His arms snaked around your waist as he deepened the kiss, and both of you closed your eyes. You could easily get used to being the top overlord's girl. 

Just please, please, please let him prove you wrong…

[indecisive-capricorn]

Priorities || Miguel O'Hara x Wife Reader

WARNINGS: Loads of fluff, a few mentions of blood, mentions of pain, slight angst, children, Mama O'Hara in action, Baby O'Hara, stubborn Miguel O'Hara, father Miguel O'Hara, etc.

SUMMARY: Miguel got injured after a mission and you insist for your stubborn husband to go to the medical center.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got all of the medical information, especially the teething one, from the internet, so take it with a grain of salt since I didn't do much research on it. If it's wrong, please tell me and I'll correct it as soon as I can. :) And I know I'm a little late to publish this but I had to rewrite it twice because it kept on not getting saved.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Have some wine before you leave, or suggest a good brand to me. any form of messages are a delight.

"She won't like this," Lyla remarked as she observed Miguel who was focused on tying the wound on his arm with a bandage. He didn't respond to Lyla's words, leading her to point out, "That cut isn't small either. It'll bleed right through the bandage if you keep it for long."

Miguel merely grumbled in response, feeling discomfort from his wound, while Lyla studied his wounded arm, concerned about the potential of an infection.

"I'm only going to check on the recruits' reports for a minute," Miguel voiced under his mask, before narrowing his eyes at Lyla, "and don't tell her about this. She already has enough to worry about."

Lyla rolled her eyes at Miguel's command, but surprisingly, she stayed silent instead of pestering him to tell you about his recent injury. It was unusual for her since Lyla would usually insist for Miguel to update you about everything after he had finished his missions, especially if he got injured. However, Miguel made no comment about it, not wanting to jinx his luck or change Lyla's mind to not pester him about it like last time.

When Miguel went into his office, expecting to see a large pile of reports on his desk, he was instead met with the sight of you standing in front of his desk, holding the baby car seat that carried your sleeping baby boy. Miguel would usually be in awe at the sight of his little boy and his beautiful wife, and he would have done so at that very moment. However, it was impossible for Miguel to not notice the intense glare you were shooting at him, telling him that he had fucked up.

"Whoops! I forgot to tell you, she's already in your office," Lyla said casually, her tone nonchalant, as if she had known about your arrival and purposely chose not to tell Miguel. And he couldn't shake the feeling that Lyla did do it on purpose.

Miguel cursed in his mind and made a mental note to find a way to get Lyla to notify him of your arrival at HQ in the future, although he knew it would most likely fail due to how much she adore you over him.

"Miguel O'Hara," your voice was sharp and stern yet it was laced with concern as well, your eyes glancing back and forth between his face and his wound, "why aren't you at the medical center right now?"

"I need to check on the reports, cariño," Miguel stated, already expecting your disbelief and the scolding you were going to give him for his stubbornness. Before you could voice your protest to Miguel, he interjected, "I was only going to take them and check it in the medical center while they treat me."

That wasn't Miguel's original plan though. He had intended to put off going to the medical center for as long as he could to continue working, possibly only going to the medical center at the last hour of the day. That way, you wouldn't scold him for not treating his wound and ban him from going on missions for a while, which you have done in the past. You can be a really scary lady at times. Although he was very intelligent, Miguel tend to be obsessed with finishing his work at times to the point that he would dismiss his wounds and insist that they were only "small scratches".

They weren't just "small scratches".

And knowing your husband's tendencies, you found it hard to believe that he had planned to take the reports to the medical center with him instead of continuing his work in his office. Raising an eyebrow, Miguel was prepared for you to question him about it. However, instead of pressing further on the matter, you surprised Miguel by asking, "And have you eaten yet before your mission?"

"Of course I have—" Miguel paused mid-sentence, suddenly realizing that he hadn't eaten anything before the mission. In fact, the only thing preventing him from experiencing gastric pains was likely the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you had made for him that morning. However, at that moment, Miguel also realized the reason you had come to headquarters- he had forgotten to bring the homemade lunch you had packed for him before he left for work.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, he caught a glimpse of the lunch box you had brought for him on his desk, along with a small note containing your usual declarations of love for him, which never failed to bring him motivation. He cherished these notes, keeping them secretly tucked away in a special place.

"Mi vida, how long have you been waiting for me?" Guilt began to brew in Miguel's stomach, knowing that you wouldn't mind waiting for him to return from his mission just to catch a glimpse of him for a moment.

You shook your head gently. "I didn't mind waiting," you responded back, avoiding his question. The mission had stretched on for more than three hours, and with it already being around three o'clock in the afternoon, and the fact that you weren't one to delay meals, Miguel knew you had likely been waiting for almost three hours for him as well.

Before Miguel could respond, he felt something trickling down his arm. Looking down, he saw blood seeping from his wound. You quickly rushed to Miguel's side and inspected the injury, a frown forming on your face. "We have to go to the medical center now before it gets infected," you firmly said, taking no arguments from him. "The reports can wait. It won't be the end of the world, amor. Peter and the others will take care of it."

Miguel nodded and gently took the baby car seat from you with his uninjured arm, though you tried to protest, insisting that he was in no condition to carry anything and that you were perfectly capable of carrying baby Benjamin yourself.

As he carried Benjamin, Miguel felt a wave of guilt wash over him for forgetting to bring the homemade lunch you had worked so hard on to work, especially since you were barely getting enough rest lately from taking care of Benjamin who recently began having teething pains and became increasingly restless due to it.

Miguel had done his best to help soothe Benjamin's teething pain whenever he could, even taking a few days off work to care for him alongside you at home. However, he eventually had to return to work, as the Spider Society needed him physically for missions as well. At first, Miguel wanted to hide his injury from you to avoid adding more stress, but he knew you would find out about his wound eventually.

On the way to the medical center, Miguel made sure to be mindful of his steps, not wanting to wake Benjamin up. The last thing either of you needed was for him to wake up, especially since the poor baby was already struggling to sleep due to his teething pain.

When Miguel arrived at the medical center, the spider-healer in charge was slightly surprised to see him, knowing how stubborn he could be and how he sometimes insisted on treating his own wounds. However, it made sense to the healer when you arrived alongside him. The spider-healer pulled aside a chair for Miguel to sit on while they began treating the wound on his arm.

Throughout the treatment, Miguel remained quiet, only grunting slightly as the healer worked. You watched the healer's movements carefully, placing a comforting hand over Miguel's to soothe him. A moment after the healer was finished stitching Miguel's wound up, Benjamin began to cry from the baby car seat, slowly waking up from his slumber.

Miguel's eyes softened as he watched you lift the crying baby from the car seat, cradling him close to your chest. You rocked Benjamin gently back and forth, murmuring soft words of comfort as you rubbed his back soothingly. Benjamin's cries gradually softened, feeling warmth from his mother's embrace.

"Did you have a nightmare, Benji?" You asked the seven month old in a gentle tone, as he lifted his head from your chest, his eyes looking around his surroundings until he stopped at Miguel. With a soft noise, Benjamin leaned towards his father, seeking comfort in his arms.

Miguel's heart swelled with warmth at Benjamin's action, and he carefully accepted him into his arms, mindful of his stitched arm. Despite the caution, you could see Miguel's eyes sparkle with love and adoration as he held Benjamin close.

Miguel chuckled affectionately as Benjamin grabbed a handful of his dark hair with his tiny hands. "Did you miss me, tesoro?" he asked Benjamin, his voice filled with warmth. In response, Benjamin babbled happily, his tiny hands still tightly gripping Miguel's hair.

"I'm sorry for not telling the truth to you, mi amor," Miguel apologized to you sincerely, his voice laced with regret. With Benjamin now distracted by the toys you had brought, Miguel took a moment to express his remorse, gazing into your eyes for forgiveness.

He reached out, gently grasping your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckle in a comforting gesture. "You were already stressed with Benjamin, and I didn't want to worry you any more with my injury," Miguel explained softly.

You sighed, expressing your concerns gently but firmly. "Miggy, I'm always grateful for how hard you work for our family, and I understand how important your role is in the Spider Society. But I sometimes get worried that you're not taking care of yourself properly at work like you used to, especially after what happened today," you frowned, knowing that Miguel's old work habits were hard to shake off.

As you intertwined your fingers with his, you continued, your voice filled with genuine care, "You getting injured worries me a lot, but what worries me more is the way you brush off your injuries and continue pushing yourself as if nothing happened."

Worry was evident in your eyes. "Please promise me that you'll prioritize your health over your work and treat your wounds properly after missions. And if you're struggling to remember to eat and drink, I can come by here everyday and remind you about it. I'm still on maternity leave, remember?" You added with a reassuring smile, showing him how much you care about his health.

He squeezed your hand gently. "I remember, and you're right. I promise to take better care of myself for you and Benjamin," He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead, feeling grateful for your love and care.

Benjamin, ever the adorable child he is, wiggled his way between you and Miguel, continuing to babble joyfully. With chubby fingers, he repeatedly pointed to his cheek, a clear invitation for you and Miguel to leave kisses.

"Do you want a kiss too, Benji?" you cooed, your voice filled with affection and awe at the little boy's action. Without waiting for an answer, you peppered Benjamin with kisses all over his face, earning delighted squeals of laughter from him.

Miguel couldn't help but chuckle, staring at you and Benjamin with a smile, as he was silently thankful for the chance to have his own family again.

[samkerrworshipper]

simce u asked for blurbs i have some ideas xxxx

leah x reader where reader gets her tongue or belly button pierced without telling leah

leah x reader where leah gets jealous of reader for having to do a media day vid with a touchy male player

awfc x reader where reader and kyra are just pranksters (cuz i loved sticker charts sm 🥹🥹🥹)

DONT FEEL PRESSURE TO DO THESE BTW! but if this helps then perfect 🥰🥰🥰

tongue twister | lw6 x reader blurb

it’s short, it’s sweet, it’s the only thing getting me out of my writers block lol

warnings: minor sexual implications and maybe some minor swearing

———————————————————————

It’s fairly normal routine for Leah to beeline straight towards you after any trip that includes her leaving for longer than 24 hours. Hell, the girl always seeks you out even after she’s gotten home after a two gotten home after a two hour training session but she’s always especially clingy after being on international camp.

It’s worsened significantly since her return from her acl injury, considering that for months she hardly had to leave your side.

So it’s no surprise that before Leah even takes her shoes off she’s rushing into your kitchen, her luggage bag long forgotten at the front door as she tumbled through the entrance hallway and into the kitchen.

You were seated at the island bench, typing away lazily at a work document to pass time.

Your eyes perked up as soon as the blonde entered the room, a big smile settling along your features at the sight of your rugged up Leah. It still gave you the chills that the woman standing in front of you, leah williamson, was all yours. She told you every single day that she was the lucky one in the relationship, but you couldn’t have disagreed more, leah was perfect, in every single way.

“Hiya love.”

Leah stays standing in the doorway, her eyes trained to you, a big smile splashed across her face.

“Hello Le.”

The woman closed the distance between the two of you, her tongue between her teeth as she approached.

“Missed you.”

It’s a statement, not meant for you to reply just a hanging reminder that these weeks that you spend apart are just as hard for you as it is her.

So you nod, flash her another smile before letting your eyes fall back to the bright screen in front of you.

Leah sits down on the seat beside you, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Honey.”

Her voice is slightly whiny, the voice Leah uses when she wants something that apparently should be obvious but you aren’t giving it to her for whatever reason.

“Yes, Leah?”

You look up from your screen briefly, taking in Leah’s needy face, her lips puckered directly towards you.

“Where’s my welcome home kiss?”

It was customary that whenever Leah came home you gave her a kiss, but this particular time you were a little bit tentative… for other reasons.

“Someone’s a bit needy.”

Leah reached over and pressed your laptop closed, removing the potential distraction.

“I always get a welcome home kiss… I’m waiting.”

You roll your eyes, it’s typical for Leah’s first priority to be a fucking kiss, it’s something that you’ve come to love, no matter what’s happening in either of your lives when she gets home, you always connect like this together.

“How was my day? Thanks for asking, it was great, went for a run, cooked up some food for you to meal plan this week, watched some shows, got a jumpstart on the gym plans for the team this week and hammered out a roster.”

Leah’s gives you a massive eye roll, her hand extending to the back of your neck, looking deep into your soul as her face hovers a couple of centimetres away from you.

“Baby, you know i love you, give me a kiss, please.”

It wasn’t like Leah to be so needy, you blamed it on the fact that you’d been ‘sick’ in her absence, which had her feeling especially guilty for leaving you.

“Why don’t you give me one?”

The challenge is enough to strike up Leah’s competitive nature, something you frequently take advantage of in all parts of your relationship.

Leah leant forward without any hesitation, her lips capturing yours and immediately melting against your skin. This was the part you were anxious about, but regardless you let her take dominance of the kiss, her bottom lip molding against your top one as she slowly synchronised the movement.

It didn’t take very long at all for Leah to get greedy, her tongue finding the notch between your bottom lip and top, gently prodding for an opening, something you awarded her with ease.

Leah tasted like peppermint gum and black coffee, a flavour that melted in your mouth. You were counting down the seconds, as Leah explored your mouth, curious as to how long it would take for her to notice.

4 seconds, 4 seconds of her tongue reaquanting itself with the roof of your mouth and then twisting and tangling itself with your own to discover what you knew she was bound to.

It felt like she was digging for treasure that you’d hidden.

The gasp that she breathed into you almost immediately was capturing a short little exhale of hot air directly into your mouth. Leah prodded at it twice more, checking, making sure before she disconnected herself from you, her eyebrows perched high on her forehead as she blinked a few times in surprise.

“Open your mouth.”

If you were in a more playful mood you probably would have said some kind of obscene joke, but you simply weren’t in the mood to mess around with Leah, especially with that glint in her eyes that was telling you so much and yet so little about how she was feeling.

So without much arguement at all, you opened your mind up wide, allowing Leah to examine her previously discovered treasure.

Leah took her time having a look, even daring to tilt your head back to get a better angle on your new bling.

Once she was finally done she let go of your chin, releasing you and taking a step back, so you could look at her fully.

“I’m assuming it wasn’t tonsillitis that you had then?”

You chuckled lightly, it was a good cover up if you did say so yourself, something completely believable and so simple.

“Do you not like it?”

Leah’s eyes almost bursted out of her skull, her head shaking profusely at you.

“God baby, no, I am so ready for you to show me all the ways that little thing can do, maybe i’ll get me nips done next time for some more fun.”

Leah gave you a flashy wink, a movement that had her rewarded with a big eye roll from you.

“She’s fully healed, how about we go test it out?”

Leah smirked massively, reaching for your hips and lifting you up in to her arms.

“I like your thinking.”

[hwaslayer]

love you in slow motion (psh) | four.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, thewarmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 10k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption, intoxication, club scene!, twerkin buns at the clurrrb 🤪, kissing/making out, quick rundown of oc's history with mingi, physical altercation, mention of small injuries/wounds (lip cut), arguments, crying, the silent treatment 💀, hints of a hookup, oc x seonghwa just being a mess per usual sorry 😫 lol

"Are you still riding with me and Joong to the club?" Seonghwa puts your call on speaker while he sits in the passenger's seat of Hongjoong's car.

"Yeah, if I can."

"Can we head over then?"

"Sure. I'm still getting ready."

"We figured." Hongjoong chuckles in the driver's seat, turning into a lot. "What do you want from Egg House?" Seonghwa inches the phone away from his face when you squeal loudly and clap.

"Double egg toast, please!"

"Okay. We'll be there in about 30 minutes or so."

"Thank you!" You hang up the call first and Seonghwa lets out a breath, slouching further in the seat.

"It's so easy to please Y/N." Hongjoong laughs, finding a spot in the opposite end the lot closest to the shop.

"Sometimes."

"San ever tell you about their dinner?"

"Not really. Y/N did. A bit. She was being kinda weird about it, actually."

"Hm." He hums, figuring if it was gonna come from someone, it would be him. "That's probably because they talked about you."

"Me?" Seonghwa furrows his brows in confusion. "What about me?" No wonder you were being so weird about the topic at the aquarium. You couldn't tell him the full story, even though Seonghwa wished you would've. It'd make things way easier.

"What do you mean 'what about you?'" Hongjoong laughs as he heads to the self-checkout area to order. "These unspoken feelings, that's what."

"What did San say?"

"He asked if you two had anything going on with each other."

"Why is that a question when there clearly isn't?"

"Mm, well.." Hongjoong's response has a drip of sarcasm that has Seonghwa

"He didn't have to do that."

"He just didn't wanna get in between anything, of course he had to." Seonghwa is silent and he's biting his tongue because even though he has a rebuttal ready to slip— he's not entirely sure why he'd be defensive and fight back about it.

Hongjoong and San were right. It's not like everyone wasn't aware. The only person who seemed to be was you.

"I don't know what Y/N said. But whatever it was.. was enough for San to just back off." 

"He shouldn't give up on her."

"Him or you?" Joong laughs. "I mean they're still going to be the same. Good friends. I don't think anything was lost. They're probably both comfortable this way, too. Maybe that's just how it's supposed to play out." Joong shrugs. Which, it isn't much of a surprise to Seonghwa when he hears this, especially when you started talking about the potential of ruining things—

♡ FLASHBACK

"As friends. Like we always were." You tug on his wrist. "Hypothetically speaking, if we were to date, would that ruin things between us?" Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat before shaking his head.

"Why would it ruin things between us?"

"I don't know, because we've always known each other like this. As bestfriends. It could be a dangerous thing, right? Cause we'd know too much about each other or whatever." You look up at him, and he locks his eyes with yours. He wishes he could say everything and nothing at once— but he sticks with the latter, his own example of keeping everything at bay. 

"I truthfully don't think it'd ruin anything."

"B-because I feel like it would and that's why I'm just letting things be with San."

"You sure that's it? Cause I feel like you're asking for a different reason, and not for San in particular."

♡ END

"Hate when you do that." 

"Hate when I'm right and you're wrong.. again?" Seongwa finishes plugging in his order and yours before checking out.

"I got it since you're driving today." Is all he responds before snatching the receipt.

"More gas money for me." Hongjoong snickers, plopping onto a high stool off to the side of the restaurant to wait for the food. 

"Did San say anything else to you?" Joong shrugs and shakes his head.

"Nah. But, he seems to be the same."

"Gotta talk to him." Seonghwa mainly mutters to himself. He just wants San to be okay because he didn't want this idea of you and him getting in the way [despite his feelings]. That was never his intention. But before he can fall into a rabbit hole with his thoughts, his name is being called and a bag full of food is being pushed his way. Joong is already on his way to the car, unlocking the doors to hop in and drive off to your place with a quickness— especially because he was hungry.

When they arrive at your place, they pass through the house to say their hello's to Yaya with Seonghwa handing off the extra sandwich he remembered to buy for her. She happily thanks them before waving them off, telling them that you're probably still getting ready in your suite.

"Hey!" Seonghwa knocks and yells. "Are you decent or whatever?"

"Yeah! Come in!" He hears from the other side just as he tugs on the doorknob. Walking in, he notices a few pieces of clothing scattered along your bed and couch, with you head deep into your closet.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Finding an outfit, what does it look like?" Your response is mumbled as you dig deep into the depths of your closet to find that black cotton mini skirt and a few tops. "Got it!" You hold up a bodysuit and a regular tank in the same color. "Body suit or tank?"

"How the hell are you gonna pee?" Hongjoong asks mid-chew. "Unbuttoning that coochie holder while drunk is crazy."

"You're sick, Kim Hongjoong."

"Nah, tell me. How is that gonna work?" Seonghwa silently takes out your sandwich and plops next to him on the couch.

"He's got a point. I'm not going into that bathroom to save you."

"Ugh." You groan, tossing the bodysuit aside and settling for the tank. "I'll figure out the rest later." You plop next to Hongjoong's free side. "Thank you for the food." You smile over at them.

"Hwa bought it." Hongjoong's eyes are glued to the TV. 

"Thank you, pichu."

"Mhm." Seonghwa responds from his end. 

"Why are San and Woo going separately?"

"San has to help his uncle with something and it might run a bit long. Woo offered to go with him so he wouldn't be alone."

"Mm." You hum. "Hope it doesn't go long."

"Aw. You miss Sannie?" Hongjoong playfully pouts and you hit him on the bicep.

"You're so fucking mean to me." Joong laughs loudly when you continue to whine, Seonghwa contently eating away while watching the show.

"You guys good or what?"

"Yeah, I just want all of us together."

"We will be, don't worry." Seonghwa chimes in and passes you your food. "Eat. I know you'll need like 500 hours to get your makeup and hair done." You glare at him before picking up the sandwich and digging in. You, Joong and Hwa continue to talk amongst each other while watching the TV before you gather the strength to finally get ready for the night. You turn on your bluetooth speaker, blasting your playlist while you get dressed and get your makeup going. Seonghwa has taken a few pregame shots with you in between, now sipping on a canned cocktail to keep him going while you finish up your makeup and hair. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with the oversized black denim jacket, mini skirt, tank and knee high heeled boots you threw on. Your makeup was simple, but enough to pop.

"Damn." Hongjoong teases, playfully checking you out and flattening his brows with two fingers while Seonghwa rolls his eyes. But, he has to say— he's fucking dying inside because of how fine you look tonight.

So fucking beautiful, and Seonghwa wishes he could have you all to himself.

"Go away." You laugh, walking through a cloud of perfume. "I'm ready!"

"About time." Seonghwa teases. "You look good." He breaks contact as he shuts off your bluetooth speaker and is the first to head out the door.

"Thanks, pichu." You shut off the lights and lock your door. "Do you have the bottle?"

"Make sure to hide that shit in the car, I'm not getting pulled over." Hongjoong says, unlocking his car. You hop into the backseat and tuck the unopened soju bottle aside— keeping it safe until you get to the club.

It's a 20 minute drive before Joong is circling the streets to find a good spot. When he finally gets lucky and finds one just a block down, he reverses into the spot flawlessly before shutting off the car and giving off a deep sigh.

"Have at it." He says, texting San to find out his whereabouts while you and Seonghwa continue to pregame some more and finish the bottle. The alcohol is hitting you quickly tonight, the soju being the cherry on top. Joong tells you San and Wooyoung have parked nearby, giving you all the greenlight to meet them halfway and walk together to the club.

You [drunkly] scream loudly when you see the two; running into their arms and letting them swing you around. You feel happier when you're all together, excited for what the night has to bring. You cling onto Seonghwa without realizing, the group behind you two as you walk side by side while engaging in conversation.

"Seonghwa! Why would you say that!" You and Seonghwa laugh loudly while walking down the street to the club. San can't help but divert his attention to you two ahead; watching as you naturally joke around, laugh and playfully bicker. You cling onto Seonghwa and continue to attach yourself to his hip, and the reality settles for San even more.

He is sad, but it's clear this is where you're supposed to be.

Seonghwa continues to tell you his story, leaning in to tell you delicate details even as you fall in line for the club. San realizes things surely haven't changed, because for you and Hwa, all you see is each other. You both don't ever purposefully make anyone feel left out, but at the end of the day, Hwa was always going to prioritize you and vice versa.

This is your own world and San only plays a little part in it. And that's okay. That's completely okay. You deserved to be happy and that's all he wants for you. All he wants for Hwa.

When security finally checks your IDs and lets your group in, the club is packed from wall to wall and you're having to hold Seonghwa's hand while navigating through the crowd. Hongjoong is behind you, gripping at the belt loop of your skirt to help lead the other two trailing him.

"Aye, over there!" Hongjoong tugs on your belt loop and points at the free bartender towards the other end of the club nodding with his lips while nodding. You take the hint and get Seonghwa to navigate to the free area. Once you're there, you feel like you're able to breathe, being able to spread your arms and move around freely.

"Let's go get some drinks from the bartender over there, it isn't busy." Seonghwa points to the small bar area towards the back end. Your group follows, instantly asking the bartender for a few shots of tequila, whiskey, whatever each chose as their own poison. 

The shots are taken to the neck, and before you know it, you're dancing away on the dance floor with your friends. Wooyoung manages to grab a few dances from cuties nearby, dragging San along to cheer him up and find someone he could possibly have fun with. But, amidst all that and all the numbers he manages to grab, he still finds himself looking for you so he can at least have a dance. 

"Y/N?" San comes to you, cheeks tinted red as his hand  caresses at his jaw. 

"What's wrong, Sannie? Are you okay?" You look up at him with those eyes, your hand on his bicep. You're both clearly drunk out of your minds but jesus, is he having trouble containing himself. 

"Y-yeah." He hiccups. "I just wanted to ask if you'd dance with me?" You giggle and nod.

"Let's go!" You grab his hand and take the initiative. At some point the crowd builds and you're separated from your group— Wooyoung floating somewhere out in the chaos, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa are pulling further and further away. You continue to dance with San though, enjoying every moment and having fun while with him. He keeps up with your rhythm, holding you close but making sure you still have enough freedom to move however you want, have space however you want. But, you continue to work on him and dance along to the music, forgetting any worries for the night.

You dance with San for a good chunk of time before you start searching for Seonghwa, who is no longer nearby. You catch wind of him, but your body decides this is the perfect time to break the seal.

"I need to go to the bathroom." You turn to San and tippy-toe to his ear.

"You okay? Want me to come and wait?"

"No, I'm okay. I'll be back." You give him a small reassuring smile before rushing off to the bathroom and waiting in the tiny line that had formed outside the door. You're in and out within 5 minutes, washing your hands and patting your face down with how stuffy the club had gotten. After handling your business in peace, you realize that Seonghwa and Hongjoong are even more separated than you thought when you exit the bathroom— no longer being able to spot them on the main dance floor, especially due to being inebriated. You finally find Wooyoung and San together, tugging on Wooyoung's sleeve to grab his attention.

"Where's Hwa?"

"Iono!" Wooyoung shrugs. "Last time I checked he was somewhere over there with Joongie." He nods in the far back corner behind you. You give Wooyoung's arm a squeeze to thank him before pushing your way through the crowd towards the potential Hongjoong and Seonghwa spot. When you get there, Hongjoong is definitely nowhere to be found, but Seonghwa is talking to some girl. He's leaning in towards her ear in order for her to hear him, and she laughs at whatever the fuck he's saying. It lowkey kinda irks you, even though you have no reason to be feeling that way. You should be happy Seonghwa is putting himself out there and flirting away at the club. 

Not feeling jealous or envious in the least bit that she is occupying his time and space.

"Hey." You come up to him just as she giggles and playfully flips her hair, turning on her heels to walk away. She gives him one last look before she sways her hips and continues walking towards her friends, all of them squealing over the encounter in the middle of the club. "I see you've been busy." He shrugs.

"That's the girl I met. Makayla." You subtly roll your eyes and tap his chest.

"Okay, well I've been looking for you." You kinda pout.

"What's wrong?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hang out with you and I couldn't find you for the longest time." He laughs.

"You were dancing with Sannie, weren't you?" He taps your nose. He says it like it's a light, teasing joke, but deep down, Seonghwa had to step away and get outta that spot. He's not gonna lie, he is relieved you're finally looking for him and finding him. 

"So?" He laughs.

"Well, you found me? Stop pouting. We came here to have fun and you're gonna be with me all night." He gently runs a finger down your bottom lip that is still poking out in a pout. 

"Where'd Joong go?"

"Bathroom." 

"Let me grab San and Woo—" Seonghwa tugs at your hand just as you're about to turn, a small frown on his face. As you look at him, not only do you realize how drunk you still are, but you can also pick up on how drunk Seonghwa is, too. His eyes are red and glazed over, cheeks also tinted with a rosey hue. 

Which, with the way he's looking at you, can't be a good thing. 

This won't end well.

And you truly do not care right now.

"Uh-uh, I thought you wanted to hang out for a bit. Dance with me." He says, pulling you flush against him while his teeth subtly nibble on his bottom lip.

"Hwa." You get all shy and unlike yourself, most definitely from the alcohol and the way he's looking at you up and down. You let him keep you close, beginning to dance against him and go with the beat of the current song blasting through the club. 

To set the record straight first and foremost— it's not like you haven't danced with him before. You have, and those times have been careless, free and fun. You didn't have a care in the world, Seonghwa didn't. It wouldn't last because it was harmless fun before you were onto the next and brushing it off like it was any ordinary thing between you two.

Because it was.

Tonight, it isn't. The air is different, and the energy between you two is supercharged; strong, an incredible pull to each other. The air is extra thick and like no other you've experienced with him. You can't really explain it right now, but with recent events, you just know you want Seonghwa.

Just like he wants you.

So you dance, and you dance. The two of you have pushed to the farthest corner of the club that Hongjoong never seems to return to Seonghwa [or maybe he did and didn't wanna bother] and the two of you are left in your own little world. He's still keeping you close, a tight grip on your hips as he feels every inch, every move against him, doing his best to keep up with the rhythm, you.

And god, is it turning you on.

You turn to face him when the song transitions into the next, finding that Seonghwa can't take his eyes off of you. He stares through his hooded lids while he rests against the metal railing, hands still at your hips while your face is only inches away. You watch as his eyes shoot down to your lips, back up to your eyes as if he's begging, pleading, you to make the first move. Because that will be the confirmation he needs— that will open up a whole new box that Seonghwa had been waiting to open, break the lock to a door he had been waiting to walk through. But also, he's too scared to make the first move. Too scared he'd be overthinking, that you're just drunk and you wouldn't mean it—

Suddenly, the impact of your lips crashing into his quickly pulls him out of his thoughts. Instead of breaking away at that moment, the kiss instantly becomes heated, deep. And Seonghwa has to forcibly pull himself off of you because even though he wants this so, so badly, it'll ruin everything if you truly didn't mean anything by it.

"What're you doing, Y/N?" He breaks away and leans towards your ear. His voice is husky and deep, loud enough to barely be heard over the music.

"I can't kiss you?"

"Not if you don't mean it." He bites onto his bottom lip when he pulls back to look at you, hands still resting on your waist.

"Who said I didn't mean it, Hwa?" You say in his ear, shivers running down his spine when he feels your lips graze your jaw. He probably should think about this, really think about this, but he can't. He's just as fucked up as you are, and he's feeling a bit selfish, a tad bit horny. You're positioned in between his legs looking beautiful as ever even under the dim club lights.

He can't help himself.

He cups your cheek as he pulls you back in, kissing you with so much more fervor. He hears you let out a content sigh in between kisses, pressing your body up against him as you grip the sides of his shirt.

"Driving me crazy." He says, pulling back and letting his nose lightly glide over yours. The both of you are slightly panting, lips swollen from all the intense kisses just shared. You'd do it over and over again, though. And if it were up to you, you'd take this home to explore a little further.

You want Seonghwa.

"Am I?" You continue to tease.

"Y/N." He gives you a look. "You have no idea what you do to me." His voice is still husky, deep; vibrating through your ears and sending tingles down your spine. He leans in for another deep, last kiss; biting onto your bottom lip and tugging back before letting it go. He dips to your jaw, to your neck— painting the surface with feathery kisses and tiny, subtle bites.

"Hwa, we're still out." You giggle and gently tap his chest. 

"Right." He sheepishly smiles and continues to hold you.

"I'm gonna grab some water real quick. We should try and find everyone when I come back."

"Let me just come with you." He grabs at your hand.

"I'll be fine, pichu." You smile toothlessly at him. "I'll be back before you know it. Try to text one of the boys! Save our space!"

"Fine." Seonghwa slightly whines as he lets go of your hand and watches you walk off. At this point, San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong find him without Seonghwa having to lift a finger— both San and Wooyoung carrying two glasses in their hands.

"Aye! Finally fucking found your ass. Where's baby girl? Got more shots." Wooyoung looks around for your familiar figure.

"She went to get water."

"I got it right here. Tequila water." Wooyoung snorts at his failed attempt of a joke.

"You're an idiot." Seonghwa shakes his head and takes the glass, holding onto it while looking around the room. It hasn't been long, but he's hoping you haven't been swallowed by the crowd and are at least at the bar requesting for water.

"Let's wait for Y/N." San adds.

"Sounds good with me." Wooyoung shrugs.

5 minutes quickly turns into 10 and you're still not back from your water run. Seonghwa can't help but be worried, eyes now frantically scanning every inch of the room to catch any glimpse of you.

"Damn, that's a long water break. Should we just go to the bar and find her?" Whatever Wooyoung's saying is completely drowned out by Seonghwa because he finally spots you, and he's fuming. Everything in the club seems to drown out, and it almost feels like white noise. Hwa finds you at the opposite corner of the bar, and of course, Song Mingi would be the person you're occupied with. That's why you haven't returned, of fucking course. He continues to watch from his spot, feeling unsettled from the entire situation. It starts off pretty normal, until Mingi starts whispering near your ear; doing his best to pull you close, keep you close. He sees you gently rejecting Mingi's touches, shoving off his hand and pushing his arm away— clearly making you uncomfortable. Seonghwa finds his free hand balled into a fist, already boiling with anger at how Mingi doesn't read any of your signs.

Instead, continues to put you through it because he's your ex. He thinks he can get away with it. He knows he can.

"I'll be back." Seonghwa says taking the shot in one swift motion, setting his empty glass aside on the high table nearby. San furrows his brows as he watches him leave, following his trail over to the opposite end of the club.

"Oh shit." San says under his breath, and Hongjoong is confused.

"What?"

"Mingi." He points over to the other side of the club and Joong lets out a sigh, followed by a heavy—

"Fuck."

As Seonghwa comes from behind, Mingi is the first to spot him and smirks. You don't really notice until Mingi has stopped trying to get close to you, turning over your shoulder to see your own bestfriend shooting daggers his way.

"What's up, Seonghwa?" The way Mingi says his name is so fucking annoying, Hwa can't help but roll his eyes. Mingi leaves out his hand in hopes of Hwa taking it in a friendly dap. All Seonghwa does is look at it before returning his attention back up to him, then back to you.

"Come on. Let's go." Hwa mutters as tries to gently drag you away by the wrist, but Mingi stops him.

"Woah. We were just having a conversation."

"Back up." Seonghwa steps in front of you and tries to get Mingi to back up, creating some distance between you two.

"Kinda rude for someone to intervene when they have no business to."

"Didn't know that required you to put your hands on her."

"Seonghwa." You warn, but he doesn't listen.

"Of course." Mingi laughs and licks his lips before closing in on the distance, clearly drunk and trying to be belligerent by provoking Seonghwa. His face is only a couple of inches away from Seonghwa's, but he isn't doing anything to back down from whatever the fuck Mingi is trying to start. Because yeah, he's drunk too, and this is you they were talking about. "Wanna be all high and mighty now? Be the knight in shining armor you always tried to be?" Mingi snickers.

"Back away from me, Mingi." Seonghwa warns lowly. "Step the fuck away."

"Or what? The fuck are you gonna do about it, Seonghwa?" Mingi mutters. "Think she'll finally give into you?" He chuckles pathetically. "Finally give you what you've been wanting for years? I know you've always been mad because you couldn't bag her when I did. Couldn't touch her, fuck her like—" Seonghwa pushes him with so much power that Mingi stumbles and fall back on a high table nearby, knocking over a glass as his arm hits the table. Mingi recovers quickly though, glaring at him as he pushes Seonghwa back and tries to land a punch on him. Mingi successfully lands it when Hwa fails to dodge, cutting the corner of his lip after the impact. They continue to go at it, causing people to step back and watch the chaos ensue from around.

"Hwa! Get off! Stop!" You scream, trying to pry him off. San, Hongjoong and Wooyoung rush over, both San and Joong having to separate the two until the bouncers come and kick your group and Mingi's group out of the club.

"Jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung glares at the bouncer and throws his hands up. "Okay, okay, we're going!"

"Let me catch you, fucking punk!" You hear Mingi yell as him and his group walk down the opposite block, the bouncers still keeping an eye on your groups to make sure nothing occurs outside of the club and requires police activity. You walk a few steps before you push Seonghwa by the shoulder, forcing him to look at you as he tends to his lip.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!" You look at him and Seonghwa's almost taken aback by your reaction. 

What do you even mean?

He did this to protect you and keep you away from that asshole, but you don't even seem the least bit concerned about him.

At all.

"W-what?" Seonghwa looks at you, his chest rising as he tries to calm himself from all the adrenaline and anger. 

"You didn't have to do that!" You yell, on the verge of tears. You're angry at Seonghwa, but you're angry because you hate seeing him hurt. You hate that he intervened, you hate that he's hurt because of the fight. You're angry, you're hurt, and everything is coming out all wrong. "I was fine, you didn't have to get in between, Seonghwa!"

"The hell you mean I didn't?!"

"Hwa." Hongjoong calls for him, eyeing the bouncers nearby.

"He wasn't doing anything!"

"Here you go again! Be serious for once, Y/N. He's a fucking asshole! When are you going to realize that?!"

♡ FLASHBACK

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck you, Song Mingi." You walk out of his room, aggressively wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Fucking crazy. Get the hell outta here!" He yells from his room, causing you to flip him off as you walk down the hallway and out of his front door. 

Song Mingi was a certified asshole.

Time and time again, your ex-boyfriend of 2 years proves to you that you just aren't shit to him. Two years, then an on-and-off again situation where Mingi just couldn't commit to you again — but he needed you to feel wanted, to feel like he had a safety blanket to fall on, to feel like he could string you along until that very last moment he couldn't. He'd whisper sweet nothings whenever he saw you late nights; no longer leaving his home to go on dates, but to stay wrapped up in his sheets. Telling you things he knows will make you weak, thing he knows will make you stay a little longer. All these years of this back and forth game you played with your ex, you had no idea why you couldn't just learn and do better for yourself instead of letting him reel you in, making you think he genuinely wanted and needed you.

There was no one like you.

You, so perfect.

You, made just for him. 

You should've known better.

This was no one else's fault but your own. You let him in, you let him in, you let him in. And you fall for it every single time, knowing you were never going to be his one and only again, knowing you weren't the only one he was keeping around. But for whatever sick reason, you wanted to believe you could get him to change again. You wanted to believe you meant more to him, that your history meant more to him. But that's all it was— wishful thinking.

Empty words built on shaky foundation.

So here you are, after he had called you saying he had missed you and wished you were near him. Here you are, crying everything you have left in you after giving him what he wanted. Here you are, after hearing that this wasn't anything to Mingi, that you weren't anything to Mingi. Here you are, broken to pieces, empty, soulless.

Again and again.

"Fucking asshole." You groan to yourself, tears streaming steadily as you head down the street from his building to a random corner. You sit on the sidewalk, kicking aggressively at the rocks beneath your feet. You give one last good grunt out of frustration before you rest your arms on your knees, head hanging low to let all your tears fall freely.

You had been crying so hard that you hadn't realized a car had pulled up in the empty spot near the curb you sat on, car being turned off before someone steps out and shut their door. You suddenly feel a hand on your back and you instantly ease up, knowing exactly who that touch belongs to.

"Hwa." You look at him, watery eyes blood shot red. He can't help but feel sorry for you, you're aware. You can tell by the way his brows soften when he sees how torn up you are, you can tell by the way his lips poke out because he isn't really sure what else he can say at this point. He shouldn't have to say anything anymore. He shouldn't be here—

You shouldn't be here.

"I told you to stay put." He teasingly scolds you, but you continue to look at him with that sad, pathetic look. "Let's get home, hm?" He follows up, free hand coming to wipe your tears away. You nod, allowing Seonghwa to help you up and into the car. He doesn't really say anything when he gets in and buckles his seatbelt, but he glances over at you, watches as you sink in the passenger's seat and look out the window.

He hates it, and he wishes he could do more to take this away from you. To keep you away from Mingi, to take away your pain completely.

It's not the first time Seonghwa's had to come get you. He's almost losing track of how many times you've called him crying because you wanted to leave a party after seeing Mingi flirting around [even though he'd deny it time and time again]. The times you've called because he left you at parties to hang out with other people, other girls. The times Mingi has disrespectfully called you out your name mid-argument, gaslighting you into thinking you were in the wrong.

Seonghwa's only hope is that one day, you'll finally get tired of your ex and move on. Leaving Mingi where he belongs, especially when he couldn't even give you the proper respect. Mingi's only reasoning for breaking up with you was that he couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't do the relationship anymore. He just couldn't, and you knew what he truly meant— it just wasn't you anymore. 

And for months and months, you sat there wondering what you could've done differently, or if there was a sign that you had missed. Every time he called, it had you thinking he must've realized he couldn't do this without you, that he was wrong and that he did want this after all.

Nope.

He made you believe it for a night, yes. Then, he'd go back to reminding you what you actually meant to you— that you were delusional, that you kept forcing things between him. That you knew what this was.

You should've known what this was.

♡ END

"He wasn't even doing anything! Not shit you needed to step in between for! He was literally—"

"Oh my fucking god." Seonghwa groans. "And you're still defending him!" He yells, his brows furrowed when he turns to look at you. He feels like he can barely breathe due to the anger surging through his veins, plus the betrayal he's feeling with the way you're delivering your responses. The way you look at him. The way you're keeping your distance.

After everything, it still seems like you're taking Mingi's side. You always find a way to defend him one way or another, even if you don't realize it.

Seonghwa does, and it hurts.

"I'm not!" Your tone is louder. "I could've taken care of it myself, he wasn't doing anything!" You repeat.

"He was making you uncomfortable, Y/N! All up in your space, trying to force you to do shit when you didn't want it. Yet, you wanna tell me he wasn't doing anything?"

"I'm just saying it wasn't that big of a deal, Hwa! I could've handled it!"

"Really? I doubt that." 

"Wow, are you serious?" You say, hurt. But, he scoffs and continues because you need to hear this. 

"I am. You always let him push you around and walk all over you. I thought by now you'd be smart enough to realize that you're worth much more than that." His tone rises again. "Why do you always let him do this to you? You're so used to the way Mingi treats you and you do nothing to change that. You always let him in. You're so brainwashed and you literally have no respect for yourself, it's fucking sad."

"You know nothing about our relationship." You're crying and angrily wiping away at your tears, unsure of how else to act, what else to say. Sure, you and Seonghwa have gotten into petty fights and arguments. Mostly over dumb shit, but nothing ever this serious. You know he cares, and he means well. But this anger, this seemingly pent up frustration— you aren't entirely sure where it was stemming from. You have never seen him act this way and quite frankly, this part of Seonghwa is very difficult to navigate. 

You've never had to.

"Yeah, because I wasn't the one rescuing you in the middle of the night every time he decided to throw your ass out, right? Because I wasn't the one having to calm you down when you were crying? Because I wasn't the one whose had to pick up the pieces every time he broke your heart to try and chase after somebody else? When he says all those shitty things about you that get to your head? When he'd fucking leave you stranded?" He shakes his head. "I'm sure I know nothing about your relationship." The two of you are staring at each other, both at a loss for words after everything has been laid out on the table. Seonghwa is the first to break, having enough of this bullshit and not wanting to say anything else. Mostly because he still cares about you and your feelings, and it's breaking his heart to see you crying over him this time. "I'm done here. I'm sure San will take you home."

"Whatever, fuck you." You respond before turning on your heel to walk away. As soon as you've created enough distance between you and Seonghwa, you find yourself stopping in your path to sob into your hands. It isn't until a few minutes later that you feel hands on your arms, a familiar touch that belongs to somebody else dear to you—

"Hey, let's get you home." San says, with Wooyoung behind him. You can't see much due to the tears in your eyes, but you can tell it's Hongjoong walking alongside of Seonghwa, making sure he's okay and pushing him along towards the car.

"He'll be okay. Just needs some time to breathe." Wooyoung adds, holding out his arm so that you can slip yourself right underneath while walking to San's car. "You alright?" Wooyoung pouts, wiping some of the straggling tears escaping your bottom lids.

"Mhm." You lie, just to keep the walk quiet and peaceful. And it is for a bit, even as you sit in the backseat of San's car. The only thing filling the space is the music playing through bluetooth— Wooyoung's playlist, actually. San peeks over at you through the rearview mirror, feeling bad for how everything went down. But, he gets it. He gets Seonghwa. You do deserve better. Mingi should never get an ounce of your attention after how he's treated you— esp with Seonghwa being here all along.

"You know he just really cares about you, right?" San breaks the silence. 

"I know." You mumble, head leaning back against the seat while you look out the window. "I've just never seen him act that way."

"It's Mingi." Wooyoung adds. "Can I be honest?" He turns to look at you with doe eyes. "I'm not trying to attack you, I promise. We see both sides." You nod quietly. "It's hard when you have history with someone, and it's hard to undo bad habits you've learned in the relationship. We know Mingi was someone special to you, but he hasn't been good for you for a long time. And there's no changing that man at this point. If it's anybody, Seonghwa knows all of that very well, especially when he's been by your side throughout everything." Wooyoung lets out a small sigh. "I'm certain he's hurt because even after everything he's done to be there, Mingi's actions seem to be dismissible. And his actions get overlooked."

"Woo, I'm not even dismissing Mingi's actions."

"Okay, baby girl. You're not. But, I think Seonghwa would have appreciated if you were there for him tonight instead of getting upset. He just wants to keep you safe."

"His goal has always been to keep you safe." San adds softly, driving towards your place.

"I didn't want Hwa to get hurt, h-he didn't have to do that." You sniffle, leaning your head against the window.

"You know he's not gonna sit back and let that shit happen." Woo adds, also leaning his head back against the headrest— a small headache forming after tonight's events. When you finally get home, San and Wooyoung offer to stay the night to keep you company, but you politely decline. They walk you to the door and give you big hugs, asking you a million times if you're sure about being alone tonight.

And you quietly nod.

Because there's nothing else you'd rather be than alone tonight. You want to be alone in your own space, crying alone in your bed; head against the pillow, tucked underneath your sheets.

You want to be alone.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa is struggling. He isn't sure what to do, hates not having you by his side. He doesn't know what's gonna happen from here on out, what will be left of you two after all this.

From the kiss, to Mingi, to the argument.

It's so fucked up.

Seonghwa hadn't even realized how much of his life was dedicated to you— how much of his life was just you. Even when he tried so hard for it to not be you.

"Fuck!" Seonghwa groans and slams his hand against a brick wall in passing. 

"Aye, come on now." Hongjoong clicks his teeth and pushes him away from the wall, urging him to continue down the car. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I swear to God if I ever see Mingi—"

"You won't. He should know better, and hopefully Y/N does, too." Hwa lets out a hefty sigh as he swings Joong's door open and plops into the passenger's seat. Not much is said between the two, even as Hongjoong drives off to his place. Seonghwa rests his head back and shuts his eyes, equally angry, yet dizzy from the alcohol still running through him. 

"I don't know what to do, Joong. I can't keep doing this just for it to get me nowhere."

"You two really need to fucking talk." Hongjoong does a slight head tilt as he continues to drive to Seonghwa's place. "I don't mean to make this worse, but I saw you two." Seonghwa looks at him before resting his head back against the headrest again. "I didn't come so I could give you guys some space."

"Fuck." Hwa repeats again with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I don't know where this leaves us."

"Give it a few days or whatever, but you need to figure this out with her." Seonghwa doesn't speak anymore, mainly because he's starting to feel nauseous after the adrenaline, the alcohol. He's doing his best to keep it together. But, on top of that, he has a ton of thoughts swirling in his mind— he doesn't really know how to tackle them or where to even start. In the end, he's afraid of what this will do to your relationship.

You and him.

In the end, he just doesn't know anymore.

This is the longest Seonghwa hasn't talked to you. It's been a little over two weeks— usually, the two of you would break in a few hours, not wanting to be without the other for long.

But this, this was different.

Of course, everything felt awful. You both felt awkward about having to be the first person to break the silence, both remembering that night and how heated it had gotten.

The kiss.

The argument.

Everything about the situation felt like doom, chaos. A whole whirlwind of emotions and feelings overpowering each other, threatening to burst at the seams.

Seonghwa had thought long and hard about this, though. For him, he decided he just needed to step back and give himself a breather. Let him do things for himself, carry on with the mentality that he'd finally put himself first. So, that's what he's been trying to do. It doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though. It does. It's terrible. He's gotten so used to having you by his side, so used to running to you first about anything and everything.

He's had to bite his tongue when he finally nailed that fucking uni pasta recipe he had been experimenting for years. Because he wanted to tell you he did so, wanted to invite you over so you could be the first to taste it;

Oh well.

His heart sinks when the realization hits him again, and he's having to give himself a 'lil pep talk to push through. He can't be the person to say sorry first, he can't be the first to break— not when he didn't do anything wrong. He needs to stop apologizing when he's not in the wrong or when he feels bad. He's given you way too much of that, and this time around, he wasn't going to.

He needs you to be the first to break. Needs you to be the one to say sorry. Needs you to show him you understand and that you would never intentionally hurt him, especially over Song Mingi.

He's still counting the days. Maybe he'll have to keep doing so. Gives him time to himself, some peace. Let's him know how much you'd truly work to salvage your relationship with him.

Your own bestfriend before anything.

Because he knows he'd do anything to keep you by his side. He would. It just sucks that he doesn't know if you would do the same. He can't confidently say the same.

But, you absolutely would.  Days and nights have passed and you could barely sleep, always questioning what Seonghwa was doing and if he was even thinking about you. This was on you, though. You knew it. You just didn't know how to say it to him and it's definitely a learning lesson for you— all in all, you wanna be better and you wanna be better for him. You miss Seonghwa a lot. You truly didn't know what it meant to be missing your other half until now;

Empty, alone.

Cold.

You sigh as you toss the pillow aside and sit up in bed, checking the time on the clock. 

3am.

You couldn't sleep, and you freeze. You freeze because you have no one to call anymore. So you turn, and turn. No longer able to find sleep for the rest of the night.

When the sun finally rises, you force yourself to get up to go for a run and grab a good cup of coffee and breakfast. It was your day off, but you thought you could at least take advantage of being up early; take advantage of soaking in the morning sun.

You were tired of sulking and being in bed. Being cooped up at home when you weren't at work.

You throw on your leggings and matching sports bra, grabbing an oversized zip-up to shield you from the morning cold. Yaya is already working in the kitchen, so you quickly let her know you'll be out for a run— rushing over to your car to avoid any questioning this early in the day. You drive over to a lake near town that has a 4.5 mile trail around its perimeter. Since it's still early, the trail isn't crowded with people; perfect enough for you to get a good 3 mile run in. You hadn't ran in a minute, but 3 miles seemed to be a breeze when there was a lot of pent up frustration and anger you needed to release. Of course, you were beyond tired at the end, but it wasn't anything coffee and a good pastry couldn't fix.

At the cafe, you grab a seat right outside of the entrance to enjoy your breakfast, scrolling through social media per usual. You click into your messages for god knows why, knowing Seonghwa hadn't messaged you.

He hasn't.

Why would he?

You sigh, the sadness now returning. You quickly clean up and toss your trash into the bin inside the restaurant before grabbing your cup of iced coffee and heading home. Once you get home, you throw your clothes into the laundry and take a hot, steamy shower, letting your worries go momentarily.

And then, you nap. Exhaustion finally hitting you from the lack of sleep.

Post-nap, you take time to clean around your suite and hang out with Yaya, watching a few episodes of her current favorite show. You help Yaya with a few things around the house, taking the time to bring her to the grocery store just right before the sun sets. Even though Yaya can tell something is wrong, she doesn't bother you or question you like you'd expect— probably leaving it for Soyeon to do the heavy lifting. You do appreciate that you don't have to dwell on it while spending time with her, though. 

Soyeon, Charli and Junseo had visited the past days, and although Charli was able to make you smile and laugh, Soyeon could also easily tell something was wrong without you having to say anything at all. Your demeanor had changed, you seemed to be snapping quicker than usual. Attitude wasn't so bright and happy. Seonghwa hadn't been around, but the other boys had quickly stopped by just to hang out.

You dimmed it down to a 'little fight between you and Hwa,' but Soyeon knew better than that, and she was hoping she'd be able to get it out of you soon. This wasn't like you, and it wasn't like Seonghwa to not come around for days on end.

This wasn't just a little fight.

"Hey." She calls you when you're settled back in your humble abode, and although you don't mind hearing from your boss-slash-cousin, you could do without any work-related conversations right now.

"What's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving the restaurant soon. Yoongi and Junseo are going to close up. It's gotten quiet. Can I stop by? I have some food for you."

"Sure. Where's Chacha?"

"With Junseo's parents."

"Mm." You hum. "Okay."

"Okay, I'll be there in about 30 minutes or so. I'm just gonna wrap a few things up here."

"Sounds good." You hang up the call, a bit relieved that your cousin [not your cousin on boss-mode] is coming over. 

When she arrives, it's about 7:45pm. She quietly knocks before announcing her presence— stepping out of her shoes before joining you on your living room floor in front of the coffee table and TV. For a good part of the conversation, you indulge in some of the chicken she brought over, listening to her update you about the restaurant and some drama on his side of the family. She asks if there's anything new going on with you or the boys, and you simply shrug.

This is definitely her way of poking at you, and you're very close to cracking because who else can you open up to about this?

No one, and at this point, you need to. You need the reassurance.

"Are you sure nothing's up? To be honest, I know something's bothering you, and I know this wasn't just a 'little fight' between you and Hwa." She forms air quotes. That's the moment you do crack, tears welling in your eyes when you revisit that night. You tell Soyeon everything and confide in her, giving her more details about your dinner with San, to dancing with Seonghwa and kissing him, to Mingi and their fight. You tell her it's been about two weeks since you've spoken and you know Seonghwa is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You tell her how you've started to realize your feelings for Seonghwa after everything and how incredibly terrified you are of them.

"I don't know what to do, Soyeon. He probably hates me."

"Just go over there and talk to him, Y/N. What are you waiting for? You know he's waiting for you to take initiative, and you should this time. This is all you." You sigh, bottom lip trembling as you begin to cry. 

"I know."

"You know Seonghwa the best. It's so obvious how much he likes you and adores you after all this time. Why are you so afraid?"

"I know, I know." You sniffle. "I just am, Soyeon. I'm afraid of getting hurt, I'm afraid of Seonghwa realizing this isn't what he expected. I'm afraid of Seonghwa." You cry a bit harder and Soyeon is holding you close, rubbing your back as you lean against her shoulder. "I'm scared of this ruining us completely. What if we do get together and things don't pan out the way we expected? I'm so scared of losing him completely that I just don't know where I lie in all of this despite my feelings for him."

"You can't be afraid about every little thing, Y/N. I know it's scary, and life hasn't been entirely nice to you. But, this is your bestfriend. You can't just sit around and brush it under the rug when you know this is something you two need to discuss. Regardless of what happens, Seonghwa will never let you go. You two have been through so much together, he would never wanna do life without you by his side. Never." She continues to reassure you, giving you the push you need to get yourself together and just face it.

You loved Seonghwa, and it was time you looked beneath the surface.

Soyeon didn't stay too long after the two of you finish eating last night— turning the conversation into something more lighthearted after you cried and thanked her for being there for her. Her reassurance worked so much that you're ready to tackle the morning bright and early, throwing on some clothes to head over to Seonghwa's place. After Soyeon left, you called Wooyoung and asked what time Seonghwa's shift was for tomorrow. He snorted and told you it was 10am and asked what you were up to. You let Wooyoung know about your talk with Soyeon and that you missed him, finally throwing the stupid shit aside to just try and talk to him about that night.

To apologize, to make things right.

To tell him that you love him.

You keep it casual and comfy, throwing on some black and white wide-leg track pants, a crop tank and a baggy grey zip-up hoodie. You throw on your shoes, swiftly grab your keys and crossbody bag, jogging out to your car with a quick 'good morning' yell to Yaya from the side of the house. As you drive over to Seonghwa's apartment, you are equally filled with anxiety, nervousness and adrenaline. You're ready to put this behind you, but you're especially ready to talk to Seonghwa again. See him. Hug him. 

Keep him close, never let him stray far again.

You pull into a guest lot, shutting off your car and wondering if you should've brought over some coffee, breakfast, anything, to make this a bit less awkward.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself as you shake the thoughts from your head; no time for overthinking while you're running on limited time. You jog up the steps and up to Seonghwa's apartment, hesitating when you get to the front door before you finally bring your knuckles to the surface to give a couple of loud knocks. It takes a second before you hear rustling behind the door, Seonghwa clearing his throat before he swings the door open in a white tank and sweats. Your eyes immediately meet his, but he looks surprised, caught off guard even.

But, caught off guard in a sense that he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing.

You don't understand it until you see someone in the back try to slip by unnoticed, but she's wearing Seonghwa's shirt. Your heart immediately sinks to your gut and it makes you feel queasy. It shouldn't, but you hate to say it does.

It's probably Makayla.

It's too fucking late.

"Oh." Is all you say, and Seonghwa feels his heart break to a million pieces when he sees the look on your face. You're trying your hardest not to show how much it hurts you, but he knows you. He knows you well, that's for damn sure.

"Y/N—"

"It's good, I didn't meant to interrupt, I'm sorry— I'll catch you later." You ramble and rush down the steps, hurrying away from the apartment to prevent Seonghwa from seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

This was your fault anyway, who else was there to blame?

"Y/N!" Seonghwa calls out one last time, but you're already running to your car. Very obvious that you're wiping away at your face as you sink into the driver's seat and pull out of the spot without turning back. "Fuck." Seonghwa groans to himself, and Makayla kinda just watches everything unfold right in front of her eyes. He runs a hand through his long, black locks, shutting the door quietly behind him as he turns to her and gives her a sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry."

"That was Y/N?"

"Uh, yeah. My bestfriend." He looks at her, and she can already tell. She can already tell that it's you, and there is more to it than that. He loves you, and it's very, very obvious.

"You love her, don't you?" He lets out a breath and shrugs. He doesn't say anything for a bit, rather looks at her with those big doe-eyes before she catches him subtly nodding and diverting his attention to the floor.

"I'm so, so sorry, Makayla. I really am." What the fuck else can he say? He must look so fucked up right now; having taken her out the night before and let her spend the night after fumbling in the sheets. He was curious to see if Makayla would be the door to a new path, something that'll help him move forward. He had hope. After this morning's events, that clearly wasn't going to be the case and he wasn't going to lie about it.

"Don't be." She gives him a small, toothless smile. Because although it does suck, she's been there before and she'd hate for Seonghwa to miss out on the person he truly wants to be with. "You should really talk to her before it's too late."

♡ FLASHBACK | EARLY COLLEGE

You're on Seonghwa's back as he trails behind the group, walking up the path to the view of the city behind campus. Hongjoong, San, Wooyoung and a few other heads had wanted to go on a late night walk— the goal being the view at the end for everyone to just sit and admire. At first, you didn't feel like going with a bunch of obnoxious boys. But, you had been cooped up in your room doing nothing but studying all day. It sounded better knowing Seonghwa would be around and being in the crisp, night air. 

Seonghwa continues to walk up the slightly steep hill before spotting the view just down the street, you jumping off his back as soon as it becomes clear in sight.

"Hwa! Look at it!" You squeal, running to one of the free areas near the fence to get a good picture of the view. "It's so pretty! Look!" 

"Yeah, it is." He catches his breath as he walks over next to you. Trekking that hill is not for the weak.

"Oh my god, look at all those lights. It's so beautiful. I didn't realize how flat the town is." You're mainly thinking out loud, saying it to yourself, but Seonghwa chuckles next to you and quietly nods. "I think I can see our favorite convenient store from here, and our favorite spot to get jajangmyeon."

"How would you know, they're little blobs right now."

"How would you not know, Seonghwa? Are you a fraud? Do you even like those places like you say you do?" He snorts.

"Relax, Nancy Drew. It was just a question."

"I just know." You say so matter-of-fact-ly that Seonghwa smiles to himself while you continue to look out at the view. "The stars are so pretty tonight, weather is so perfect. Ugh. We should do this more often." You continue to go on and Seonghwa just likes listening to you talk. He always has, always will.

Everything about you was his favorite.

"I— what?" You look up and see Seonghwa still staring at you before he lets out a deep chuckle.

"Nothing."

"Pichu, what is it?" He looks at you again, and it's obvious he wants to tell you something but is preventing himself from spilling it out onto the table for whatever reason. You turn towards him and cross your arms, tapping your foot to wait for his response.

"Nothing! I'm just— nothing."

"Park Seonghwa."

"I-I—" He sighs. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you ended up going on the walk with us. I wanted you here."

"Aw, you little sap." You pinch his bicep and he yelps. "Are you sure that's all?" He nods.

"Thank you, Y/N. For everything." He ruffles your hair and you can't help but pout at. "You know? For being a pain in the ass bestfriend."

"I beg to differ, but you're welcome." You chuckle. "Always us, right pichu?" You playfully punch him on the bicep before returning your attention back to the view.

And he'll forever remember this as the first time he tried to confess his feelings for you.

♡ END

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @yeosangsbbg @jycas @lyracarvahall @huachengsbestie01 @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

[jjk-expansion]

The Five Times He Almost Kissed You...The One Time He Did || Kento Nanami

Summary: The five times where Nanami almost kissed you, and the one time he finally decided to take a chance.

Warnings: 18+, mild adult content, swearing.

Authors Note: I had so much fun writing this one, and I hope you enjoy. I have only just started watching the anime, so please forgive me if I get anything wrong. Gif by @erensjwife

One…

The first time Gojo had introduced the two of you was a day after Yuji Itadori’s miraculous resurrection. You were only a few years younger than himself, and perhaps a little older than a first year Jujutsu sorcerer should be, but Gojo had vouched for you, claiming that you had immense potential in your abilities, though they were still developing and extremely rare.

All Nanami knew, was that you could use your cursed energy to create protective barriers around yourself and others, and that your reverse cursed technique somehow came naturally to you, you could heal any wound or injury on yourself and others. It was an incredible technique no doubt, but from what he had heard from his colleague, the healing aspect of your technique was very physically demanding. So he made a silent promise to himself, should the two of you work together in the future, that he would be careful not to sustain any injuries that required your attention.

However, that was not to be the case.

Leaning back against the white tile, Nanami sighed heavily. The wound in his side was throbbing painfully, the bleeding refusing to stop no matter how many pieces of paper towel he held to it to stop the blood flow. The amount of blood from the wound had eased slightly, but not enough for him to be happy with his current state.

He had sent you a text twenty minutes ago to meet him here, and he silently hoped that you had seen his message and that you were on your way. He shouldn’t have left you alone on that cinema rooftop with those two human monsters to go after that cursed human spirit, he also shouldn’t have left himself open to the spirit’s attacks. That couldn’t be helped now though, and so all he could do was wait, and hope that he wouldn’t eventually bleed out.

There was a faint knock on the bathroom door, his eyes glaring towards the door as his entire body tensed in anticipation.

“Nanami? It’s me…are you in there?”

The sound of your voice caused his body to relax, a sense of relief washing over him as he cleared his throat. “I’m alone, you can come in Y/n” he called out to you, adjusting his position against the wall. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror to his right, from the corner of his eye he could see that he was slightly pale, thanks to the blood loss. His hair was in slight disarray, and his favourite blue shirt was stained a deep purple. He cursed under his breath as the door opened, his gaze returning to your entering form…and widening in complete shock.

You were covered in small cuts and bruises, your (eye/colour) eyes meeting his own brown hues as an awkward yet kind smile formed on your lips. Your (hair/colour) hair was a complete mess, stray strands framing your face at all sorts of odd angles. You closed the door behind you and released a huff, blowing upwards to remove some of the strands of hair from your vision as you approached. He noticed in his stupor that parts of your uniform had been ripped, though they were easily reparable, they had no doubt been made by cuts that pierced your skin.

Nanami didn’t know what to say. He watched as you now stood before him, your eyes widening at the amount of blood-stained paper towels there were strewn about the basin. You met his gaze with a look of concern on your features, a sincere look on your eyes as folded your arms over your chest “What happened? Are you alright?”.

Nanami grimaced, the throbbing in his side annoying, and the newfound heat on his cheeks infuriating “I-I’m fine. I was careless, it won’t happen again.”

He watched as you sighed heavily, your eyes falling downward to where he desperately clutched at his side. You hummed lowly, extending your hands and gently prying his away from the wound so you could get a better look at it. You could see through the fabric of his shirt that this was no mere flesh wound, the cut ran deep, no wonder there was so much blood everywhere.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to-“

“Shh…” you replied quickly, “I’m trying to concentrate…”

Nanami watched you intently, the blue hue of cursed energy swirling around your hands has you gently held them one over the other and pressed your hands firmly over the wound. Nanami hissed, feeling the cursed energy surge through him like the feeling of pins and needles which faded to a feeling of numbness, and it seemed like almost instantly that feeling faded.

Nanami turned his gaze back towards the mirror, lifting his shirt high enough to examine the fading blue glow where your hands had been when a shocked gasp left his lips. There was nothing there, almost as if he hadn’t been injured at all. There was no scar, no remanent of the wound that he had sustained. It was incredible. That was when he noticed your reflection swaying in the mirror.

His eyes widened as his gaze quickly returned to your form. Your skin was pale, your eyes slightly glaze as you swayed dangerously from side to side. Nanami’s hands gently grasped your shoulders, steadying you in place so that you wouldn’t fall. You were breathing heavily, your eyes squeezed shut as small beads of sweat formed on your forehead. He was growing increasingly worried the more you continued to sway, your left hand darting out to stabilise yourself against the bathroom basin with a low groan.

“Sorry…” You apologised, blinking slowly to try and stop your spinning vision “I’m a little tired after fighting those…things.”

The two of you were so close now, Nanami was practically holding you upright against him. He could feel his heart racing in his chest as your tired eyes lifted to meet his, a lazy smile forming on your lips. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t stop the racing of his heart. You were so close that he was worried you might hear it. The sudden urge to kiss you crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it with a shake of his head. He had only just met you a few weeks ago, he couldn’t be thinking like this could he?

As a small blush formed on his cheeks, Nanami helped you to stay on your feet whilst he tossed the blood-stained paper towels in one of the bins. He then carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you against him as the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. He had no idea how thankful you were for this, as he allowed you to lean into his side as you walked out onto the city streets. He was practically shielding you from any prying eyes, and especially in your battered state, it was an incredibly kind gesture.

You found yourself unconsciously leaning closer to him, savouring his warmth and the distant smell of his expensive cologne. Unknown to you, Nanami wrapped his arm around you tighter, determined to protect you no matter the cost.

Two…

Having known you for just over a month now, Nanami learned that you were the type of person who would go out of your way to help anyone, whether that be one of your friends, or a stranger on the street. But this often led to you over-exerting yourself, especially when your other first years Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Inumaki and Panda required urgent healing after an assignment went wrong.

You had been returning from an assignment with Nanami when Gojo had asked you to return to Jujutsu High asap, since the exchange event was in a few weeks, and everyone needed to be at the physical peak. Nanami often thought that Gojo took advantage of your cursed technique, especially after he had witnessed it first-hand. He saw how completely wiped out you were after healing his wound, it worried him just thinking about what could happen to you if you healed multiple people at once.

Arriving back at the school, you both jogged towards the infirmary where Gojo had directed you. When you arrived, your eyes widened as your gaze landed on your fellow first years. They had all sustained wounds or injuries of varying degrees of severity, which meant that you would have to expend more cursed energy to heal them completely.

Nanami wasn’t happy.

He turned to Gojo, scolding his colleague quietly enough so you couldn’t hear him while you set to work. “This isn’t a good idea, Satoru, she can’t handle-“

“What do you mean? Of course she can!” Gojo exclaimed, gesturing over to your knelt form as you struggled to heal a small cut on Nobara’s arm. Nanami ‘tsked’ annoyedly, “You’re happy for her to burn herself out!? You and I both know that she struggles with maintaining her cursed energy-“

“You worry too much, Nanami. Y/n is more than capable of-“

“Do you know what happens when she heals to many people at once?” Nanami snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously on the man before him. When Gojo didn’t answer and instead cast his eyes downward, it only confirmed Nanami’s suspicions. Of course he didn’t know, you had never done this before. Just healing him was enough to deplete your energy, to send you swaying on your feet and feeling incredibly nauseous on the return journey home.

When Nanami returned his attention toward you, his eyes widened in disbelief. You had already made your way to Panda, having already healed Yuji, Nobara, Megumi and Maki…and you seemed fine. Though you were facing away from him, he couldn’t see your face, but you appeared to be holding on for now. As you turned your attention toward Inumaki, Nanami’s eyes watched your hands. They were trembling, badly. He watched as your cursed energy flickered around your hands as you struggled to maintain your focus, the blue flames faintly burning as you placed your hands on Inumaki’s wrist.

You were pushing yourself too much, your cursed energy was fading. But you pressed on, forcing your cursed energy to surge forward and heal the cut on Inumaki’s skin. Just as the scar tissue healed, you released a pained whimper as your cursed energy spluttered violently, dissipating into nothing as you collapsed forward onto your hands and knees. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think clearly. Your body was consumed by a dull ache that continued to increase, an ache that felt like you had overworked your limbs too much, but you knew that it was your cursed energy biting back at your for over-extending your abilities.

You felt a hand place itself on your shoulder, but you couldn’t determine who was speaking through the ringing in your ears. Stars began to dance across your vision as you struggled to focus on your surroundings, your entire body shaking as you felt your limbs give out from underneath you. You collapsed into a pair of strong arms, the sound of distant shouting the last thing that crossed your senses as your vision faded and you were consumed by darkness.

Nanami was furious.

You had collapsed exhausted in his arms, head coming to rest against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your protectively. Panicked shouts erupted around the room, with Yuji and Megumi arguing over what they should do. Nobara, Maki and Panda tried to calm them down, while Inumaki sat in disbelief, staring down at his wrist with an expression of guilt.

With a sharp glare, Nanami turned his attention toward Gojo who stood silently in the corner of the room. With the blindfold over his eyes, his gaze was downcast, and his hands were stuffed into his pockets. Nanami could tell that Gojo was feeling guilty, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. But Nanami huffed loudly in annoyance, skilfully picking you up in his arms bridal style and carrying you out of the infirmary. He paused by Gojo, glaring at his colleague from the corner of his eye. “I warned you that this would happen, and yet you didn’t listen. Do not, make this mistake again” he spoke darkly, not bothering to wait for Gojo’s reply as he carried you out into the corridor, and made his way towards your quarters.

He'd been there only once before after sustaining another injury, where you had offered to heal it for him and refused to let him leave Jujutsu High until he let you. No matter how many times he declined and said he could take care of this one himself, you were incredibly stubborn, an adorable pout forming on your face as you tried to reason with him. He let you heal him of course, on the promise that you wouldn’t exhaust yourself while doing so. Which you hadn’t, but the memory made him smile unconsciously.

As he reached your bedroom and slid open the door, he looked down at your unconscious form and sighed softly. To some it looked as if you were merely sleeping, but deep down he knew that this was more than that, this was something that had been brought on by your expenditure of your cursed energy, that fact alone made a small sense of worry settle in the pit of his stomach. The repercussions of healing cursed energy were still unknown, given its rarity. Perhaps this was one of them, a way for your body to rest and regain its energy.

Nanami gently placed you under the covers of your bed, tucking you in and making sure you were comfortable. When he was satisfied with his work, he cast one more glance down at your form and sighed longingly. You looked so peaceful, so innocent. Your kindness was rare in this world, especially the one you both shared. The life of a Jujutsu sorcerer was dangerous, you had to be ready for death at any moment. But Nanami found himself craving your company. He valued your presence more over the others, and he looked forward to the times when the two of you would work together.

It was the little things that he noticed about you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you fiddled with your hands whenever you were nervous, or the way you would cheer happily whenever you made progress with your cursed technique. He was drawn to you, though he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t be. He was a professional sorcerer, and you were technically a first-year student despite your age. But you were both adults, so he supposed to some degree that status didn’t matter.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, to press a gentle kiss to your forehead in goodbye. But that was quickly dismissed with a quick shake of his head. He didn’t want to disturb you, and he thought it would be inappropriate for him to do so. So he closed the door to your room and left, but not before asking Yuji to give him updates on your condition whenever he could.

Even with Yuji giving him updates, Nanami was getting worried about your condition. You had apparently been in a state of limbo, in and out of consciousness for brief periods of time. You were in good hands though, he knew that the others at Jujutsu High would take care of you, but that didn’t make him any less worried. It had been three days since he had left you, and your condition hadn’t changed. It was now Thursday, and Nanami waited eagerly for Yuji’s text.

Itadori

She’s awake! She’s still a little tired, but she’s asking for you.

Nanami felt his heart stop, his eyes widening as he reread the text message over and over. A feeling that he could only determine to be elation consumed him as he replied to Yuji, grabbing his jacket and racing towards his apartment door.

I’ll be there in an hour, keep her company until I get there.

After what felt like hours, Nanami had finally arrived. Everyone was training, he could see Megumi and Yuji sparring in the middle of the grounds, Maki and Nobara were working on their techniques…

And there you were, engaging in a conversation with Panda and Inumaki. There was a small, tired smile on your lips, you were being polite and nodding along to what they were saying. But when your eyes met his from across the grounds, your eyes regained their enchanting sparkle, and you looked a lot happier.

He watched as you excused yourself, slowly standing up from your seated position and wrapping a small blanket around your shoulders before making your way over to him. He met you halfway, not wanting you to waste the energy you had just recovered on him. He smiled down at you as you stood before him, a sense of nervousness consuming him as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “H-How are you feeling?” He stuttered, internally cursing himself for the mistake in his speech.

You shrugged your shoulders, clutching the blanket closer to your body as you shivered at the cool breeze. “I’m still a little tired. Gojo has put me on leave so I can rest a little, but otherwise I’m doing alright” You replied kindly, giving him a kind smile. A moment of comfortable silence passed, as both you and Nanami enjoyed each other’s company. You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I uh…I wanted to thank you, for what you did…” You spoke softly, your eyes falling to the ground as a small blush crept onto your cheeks “…You didn’t have to, and to be honest I’m not sure if anyone else would-“

“You’re my partner…” Nanami interrupted blatantly, his words causing your head to shoot back upward in shock “…I warned Gojo that we didn’t know what would happen if you exerted your power, and I wasn’t particularly happy that you would so recklessly put yourself at risk like that…”

He trailed off when he watched your expression fall, the sparkle in your eyes flickering slightly as your gaze fell to the space between the two of you. Nanami sighed slightly, extending his hand and hooking his fingers under your chin. He lifted your head up and stared deeply into your eyes, “…but that being said, the kindness you show people is rare these days, and in the short time I’ve known you, you would go above and beyond to help your friends no matter what the cost would be to you. I made a promise to protect you the first time I met you, and that isn’t going to change now. If you promise me to take care of yourself, then I’ll be happy.”

The sparkle in your eyes returned, glowing brightly as your tired smile widened. The blush on your cheeks darkened, but that didn’t stop you from nodding excitedly. “I promise, as long as you promise to let me heal you when you get hurt, and you can’t protest! If we’re partners, you have to expect that you’re my first priority when it comes to life or death”.

He should have expected that, you giving him a condition to your partnership. But nevertheless, he accepted with a small nod of his head, his stomach erupting in butterflies.

Three…

You dodged Nanami’s attacks, a grunt of effort escaping you as you flipped over to land behind him, bracing your wooden naginata for his next attack.

It came swiftly, he’d already wheeled around and was preparing to strike when you spun to your left. However, he had already anticipated where you were going to go and changed his direction of attack. Your eyes widened as you lifted your hands up to prepare for the blow, knowing that Nanami’s attack would likely send you reeling backward, or flat on your ass.

Nanami slashed with his short sword slicing the naginata completely in half, the force of his attack knocking you completely backward. You released a small shocked scream as you landed on your back, a sharp pained gasp leaving your lips as the air was forced from your lungs. As the dust from the training ground cleared and the stars dancing across your vision ceased, you found yourself staring up at the sky.

This wasn’t working. You had made the active decision to train and make yourself stronger, thinking that maybe this would help you manage your cursed technique so that you wouldn’t pass out as much or expend all of your energy. But so far, the only thing that had happened was that Nanami kept handing your ass to you again…and again…and again. Just when you thought you were progressing and feeling good about yourself, it was ruined by one small mistake.

You groaned and brought your hands to your eyes, balling them into fists to rub away the frustrated tears that threatened to fall. Footsteps crunched against the dirt, a shadow obscuring the sunlight above you. “Come on, again” Nanami ordered, likely extending his hand towards you to help you up from the ground. Your hands dropped to your sides, your tearful eyes glaring up at your partner as you sighed heavily.

“Tell me honestly…am I getting better?” You asked him, a small painful pang twisting through your chest. As you laid there, you waited for Nanami’s reply. He stared down at you through his glasses, you could see that he was deliberately thinking of a reply, or trying to craft it rather so as to not hurt your feelings. But he didn’t have to say anything, his hesitation was enough.

You let out a small whimper, pushing yourself up into a sitting position as you buried your face into your hands. You began to cry, your heart aching as you sobbed loudly. You felt so useless, what use was a Jujutsu sorcerer who couldn’t defend herself, or who was so weak that she could only heal a few people before collapsing from exhaustion.

You wondered what Nanami thought of you in this moment, practically curled into a ball and a complete sobbing mess. You must look so pathetic like this, but you didn’t care. Through your cries you heard the crunching of dirt once more, feeling Nanami’s arm gently brush yours as he sat down on the ground beside you.

The truth was, you were getting better, ever so slowly. You were making progress; he saw it on your last assignment together. You were holding your own incredibly well against a Special Grade spirit when he had accidentally left himself open to an attack, which left him incapacitated. He should have known better, but when he came to you were healing him, and the special grade was gone.

He removed his glasses, sighing lightly as he placed them in his pant pocket. He then reached out and took your hands in his, gently prying them away from your face. When your eyes met his, Nanami felt his chest tighten unbearably in sadness. Your beautiful (eye/colour) hues were bloodshot, the sparkle that he had come to love so much was non-existent now. You looked so sad, your bottom lip quivering as you sniffled softly.

His thumbs gently traced circles on the back of your hands, a gentle comforting motion that caused your cheeks to flush a bright pink and your stomach to do backflips. “You are progressing at your own pace, but I am seeing improvement from you Y/n-“

“I just feel so useless!...” You exclaimed, releasing a loud huff in frustration “what kind of Jujutsu sorcerer am I, if I collapse at the slightest use of my cursed technique? What kind of sorcerer am I if I can’t even protect the people I care about-“

You were suddenly silenced as Nanami surged forward, cupping both sides of your face with his hands and staring deeply into your eyes. Your eyes were wide, your body completely frozen as the distance between the two of you became smaller.

Nanami could feel his heart racing, a light blush forming on his cheeks as he spoke softly. “You are not useless, Y/n. Yes, your cursed technique is rare, and not much is known about it…but that’s what makes you extremely powerful. We don’t know the true extent of your power, but that is also the beauty of it. You have so much potential, but the fact that it takes such a toll on you physically means that we have to do this slowly so as to not hurt you in the process. You and I are in this together, and I am going to be with you every step of the way.”

The two of you were so close now, so close that of Nanami had closed the distance, his lips would have been on yours. And god, he wanted to kiss you. You did something to him that he just couldn’t understand, you made his heart race, he couldn’t think clearly whenever you were near. His stomach wouldn’t stop doing backflips, and his chest would tighten nervously whenever your hands accidently brushed, or when you hugged him, or when you smiled or laughed. It dawned on him then in this moment as he held you so intimately, that he loved you. His eyes softened upon this realisation, a loving smile forming on his lips as he watched your shocked expression fade.

You wanted him to kiss you. He was so close to you now, your heart was racing so wildly in your chest that you were surprised that Nanami couldn’t hear it. You had had a crush on him since your first meeting, that crush slowly growing into a deep and affectionate love when Yuji had told you how concerned Nanami was about your condition when Gojo had asked you to heal everyone before the exchange event. Your missions together only fuelled your love for him, and now that you were both in this intimate position, you wanted nothing more than for him to capture your lips with his.

But of course, the moment was ruined.

“Hey! There you two are! You both weren’t answering your phones, and I thought I’d find you here!”

Both you and Nanami instantly pulled apart, blushing furiously as you both turned to face the evil grinning face of Gojo a few feet away. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that left your lips as Nanami’s face instantly changed from a soft loving expression to a harsh glare, as he directed his annoyance towards your colleague with a sharp reply. “Do you mind? We were kind of in the middle of something-“

“If by ‘in the middle of something’, you mean staring dreamily into each other’s eyes, slowly leaning in and waiting for the other to make a move-“

Nanami jumped up from the ground in a flash, sprinting toward Gojo with an annoyed cry whilst the white-haired sorcerer screamed in fright. You shook your head as you watched the two of them run around the training grounds while you made yourself comfortable, folding your arms over your chest and crossing your legs as you waited for your partner’s return.

Four…

After deciding that the team needed a night out free of stress and cursed spirits, Gojo had invited everyone to a local bowling alley in the city. He had stated explicitly that it was a ‘compulsory team building exercise’, and so Nanami had no choice but to attend.

He would have preferred to stay inside his apartment, reading a good book and staying warm on this particularly cold night…or inviting you over and making you a nice dinner, like he had planned. But you had managed to convince him that it would be fun, you did remind him that he did have to work with the others and not just you, which he blatantly protested. But even still, he found himself entering the bowling alley a few minutes earlier than the agreed meeting time, his eyes landing on Megumi and Maki who sat at a booth by the wall.

He was a little dejected that you weren’t here yet, but he hoped that you would show up soon. He sat beside Megumi and watched annoyedly as everyone else arrived, even Gojo arrived before you, and he was usually late to everything. His phone vibrated on the table, alerting him to a new message. He lifted the phone to investigate who was texting him and smiled when he saw your name pop up on screen.

Y/n

I am on my way, I promise! I just got a little caught up, tell everyone I’m sorry and I’ll be there soon.

Nanami chuckled, replying casually and ignoring the fact that Yuji and Gojo were peering over his shoulder to see what he was smiling at.

Are you alright? It’s not like you to be late.

You didn’t reply, for ten minutes Nanami waited anxiously for his phone to alert him to your message. He was growing anxious and irritated, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed the door of the bowling alley. Every time it opened his heart leapt into his chest in the hope that it was you finally arriving, but he was left disappointed each time.

His phone vibrated again, Nanami’s attention immediately shifting back to the table as he snatched the device off the table before Gojo could grab it. Your name appeared on the screen again, a small sense of relief settling in his chest before it was replaced with panic. He had to reread the text twice, just to confirm that what he was actually reading was correct.

Y/n

Hey, sorry I didn’t answer. There was a cursed spirit on the train, nothing to major. I’m just down the street now, I’ll be there soon.

Nanami practically jumped out of his seat beside Megumi, with everyone shouting at him and asking where he was going. He raced towards the door, his worry and panic consuming him as his hand grasped the door handle. His mind raced as he threw open the door. Where you alright? Were you injured? He had to get to you, he had to make sure that-

As he opened the door, almost tearing it from its hinges, he froze in shock with his eyes widening in disbelief. You were standing before him, your eyes meeting his with a kind smile in greeting. His eyes examined your entire form from head to toe, searching for any sign of injury. But when he found none, the relief he felt was euphoric.

“Hey, I told you I was literally down the street. You didn’t have to come out and-“

Your words died in your throat as Nanami wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace and hugging you tightly. A blush formed on your cheeks at his sudden gesture, but you returned his embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head against his chest. The smell of his cologne overwhelmed you, the scent of bergamot and leather, with a faint smell of vanilla that drove you crazy. You breathed deeply, releasing a long breath as you spoke softly “I’m okay, Nanami. I’m fine”.

He pulled away from you just enough so that he could peer down at you. With his arms still wrapped around you, he smiled down at you lovingly. The way your eyes softened, shining so brightly under the city lights. He wished he could have stayed in this moment, with you in his arms forever.

But once again, Gojo had to ruin it.

“Y/n! There you are, we were worried you wouldn’t show up” He teased, appearing beside Nanami and wrapping his arm around his shoulder. You gave Nanami a knowing smile, sensing his annoyance at the sudden intrusion, but you turned your gaze to Gojo and shrugged.

“I’m sorry, I got a bit caught up with something. I’m here now though, so let’s get this night started” You replied, feeling Nanami’s hold on you tighten when Gojo leaned his full body weight against him.

Gojo grinned, his gaze moving between the two of you behind his glasses sceptically. “Alright then! Let’s get you two kids inside, and we’ll get things started!” He announced, motioning with his head to follow him as he removed his arm from Nanami’s shoulder and disappeared back inside. Your eyes met Nanami’s once more, you could see that there was a small glare set onto his features, the reflection of the street in his glasses hiding his actual gaze. But when you pulled away from him and held him at arm’s length, his gaze moved back to you.

You smiled up at him, taking his hands in yours as your gaze flickered to Gojo’s retreating form and then back. “Come on, we should head inside. Gojo might lose his mind if he has to wait any longer” You joked, your words causing the man before you to laugh. Nanami shook his head, nodding in agreement with a short sigh “I suppose you’re right, I’m not promising that I’ll be any good at this though-“ “Oh, I’m terrible at bowling. We can both share in the embarrassment then” You joked lightly, grinning teasingly as Nanami chuckled wholeheartedly.

The two of you joined the others, and the night of chaos began. Gojo had decided to make it a challenge, splitting the group into two teams. Whichever team lost, they would have to buy the winning team ice cream. Thankfully, you and Nanami had ended up on the same team, partnered up with Nobara, Yuji and Panda, while the other team consisted of Inumaki, Gojo, Megumi and Maki. While they were uneven teams, you were getting your asses kicked.

You slumped back into your seat, sighing heavily as you folded your arms over your chest. This was the last round, and the other team was nine points ahead thanks to a spare from Megumi. It was Nanami’s turn, the last turn of the night. “You’re up Kento…” Gojo drawled, standing tall and confidently “…try not to miss”.

You really didn’t want Gojo to win, he would brag about it for weeks on end and would never let you hear the end of it. You watched from the corner of your eye as Nanami stood up from beside you, stretching out his arms as he made his way over to pick up the bowling ball. You grew nervous as you watched him walk up to the lane, his intense gaze focused on the bowling pins.

He lifted the ball and swung, allowing the ball to fall from his hand and roll down the lane at a high rate of speed. Your hands flew to your mouth as you waited anxiously, it was like the entire room had gone silent as you all waited for the impact. The ball made contact with the pins…and you watched in amazement as all ten pins fell over. And with that, your team had won by just a single point.

Your team jumped up and cheered ecstatically, while you rushed towards Nanami and practically jumped into his embrace. He caught you with ease as you wrapped yourself around him, holding your thighs securely he spun you around with a deep and happy laugh. “You did it! You won!” You cheered, laughing along with him as you leaned back slightly to stare into his eyes. You removed one of your hands from his neck, and gently removed his glasses before placing them in his jacket pocket. He looked stunned by your actions, a light blush forming on his cheeks as the surrounding bowling alley seemed to fade out of existence.

He wouldn’t lie to himself, Nanami had often thought about holding you like this perhaps in a more…intimate position. It made his heart stutter, his brain short-circuit. He was suddenly very aware of the distance between the two of you, or lack thereof really. All he could focus on was the feeling of your hands on the back of his neck, the sensation sending a rather pleasant shiver down his spine. He could have kissed you, he almost did. You looked so beautiful underneath the neon lights of the bowling alley, your eyes reflecting the colours in a dazzling array. The urge to capture your lips with his was strong, but then you both suddenly seemed to snap back to reality upon realising that you were in front of numerous prying eyes.

He carefully placed you back down on the ground, clearing his throat awkwardly as the two of you fixed your clothes with a few quick brushes. However, it seemed that no one seemed to notice the moment the two of you shared, as they had descended into a tense argument. Megumi had claimed that your team had cheated, while Yuji retaliated and defended your team.

You and Nanami turned to look at each other again, laughing quietly to yourselves as you both stood together, hands brushing one another’s as you watched your friends descend into a full-blown blame game.

Five…

“Are you seriously getting mad at me for this!?” You exclaimed, glaring up at the man before you in annoyance. Nanami huffed, his hands clenching into fists by his side as his anger grew.

Upon a sudden revelation from Sukuna, who Yuji had allowed to take over in order to deal with a rather difficult Special Grade spirit, he had taken a great interest in you when he first heard about your abilities. He was impressed, a healing cursed technique like yours hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years, since he was last physically alive, and not to the powerful extent that he could sense in you. He’d offered to help you master it, stating quite blatantly that if you didn’t and expended too much of your energy in one go, your cursed technique would kill you.

As it turned out, your cursed technique used your physical life force to heal a wound or injury. Because you were channelling it through your form, and not allowing yourself to draw on the cursed energy surrounding you, it was killing you every time you used it. It was still a very dangerous technique, Sukuna made the point of stating.

‘You wouldn’t want to die saving your dear, precious Nanami…would you?’

And now the two of you found yourselves here, in Nanami’s apartment arguing for the past half hour.

Nanami took a moment to compose himself, allowing himself to take a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, his shoulders rising and falling tensely. “No, I’m not mad at you…” He spoke lowly, staring down at you whilst trying to contain himself “…I’m more mad at the fact that you actually thought about working with Sukuna-“

“What else am I supposed to do!?” You exclaimed, throwing your arms out in exasperation, “You heard him, if I don’t learn how to use my technique properly, I will die. If he is the only one who knows how to master it, then maybe I should take that chance”.

“Absolutely not…” Nanami growled, his jaw clenching harshly “he wants something from you. You saw how interested he was when he met you, once he has taught you everything he knows about your technique, if he knows anything at all, he’ll force you into a pact, and I am not going to let that happen-“

“I want to be able to help people without collapsing after I heal a papercut…” You spoke firmly, your voice quivering as your hands balled into fists “I want to be strong, I want to be able to help everyone and myself, and I can’t do that with the way I am now”.

“You are talking about getting help from the most powerful and dangerous Special Grade spirit we know…” Nanami snapped, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare as his tone darkened “…you would be throwing away your life either way.”

“I want to be able to protect the people I care about Nanami, I want to be able to protect you…” You cried, the angry and frustrated tears falling onto your cheeks. You felt like he wasn’t listening to you. He didn’t know what it felt like to feel completely useless, to feel like you were only getting in other people’s way when you used your technique. If you used it in the field to keep someone standing, you were practically a deadweight afterward, completely tired and worn out.

You weren’t strong like Nanami, your cursed technique didn’t allow you to pinpoint a spirit’s weak spot and strike with deadly precision. You weren’t skilled in weaponry like Maki, nor were you able to fight like Megumi or Yuji. But protecting them, protecting Nanami…that is what mattered to you.

Nanami sighed heavily. He could see the frustration on your face, but you weren’t listening to him. Sukuna would use you until he got what he wanted. He would train you, yes, but then what? Nanami wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened, if Sukuna were to possess you and use your healing technique to his advantage. So Nanami shook his head, trying to maintain a calm composure so as to not completely blow up in anger.

“I don’t need your protection, Y/n. You need to focus on protecting yourself, and you need to go about it the right way”.

He watched your eyes widen in shock, the tears in your eyes freely falling onto your cheeks as your body trembled. The look on your face made his heart ache painfully, your bottom lip quivering harder as your gaze fell downward to the floor. The choked sob that escaped your lips broke him. Regret instantly settled in his chest as he watched you wipe your eyes, grab your jacket from the top of his kitchen counter, and slowly trudge towards the door. You didn’t say goodbye to him as you left, you merely opened the door and disappeared out into the hall.

A heavy weight hung in the air as Nanami sunk into the chair behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed heavily. Tears stung his eyes, his chest aching as the heartbroken expression on your face imprinted on his mind. The one thing you wanted to do was protect him, and he had just told you that he didn’t need your help.

He cursed loudly, swatting at the decanter on the coffee table and sending it flying, the crystal smashing violently and the liquid inside splashing all over the floor. He slumped further back in his chair, breathing deeply as he tried not to cry himself. He’d hurt you, he’d promised to never hurt you.

He decided that he would call you later to talk, to apologise for what he had said. He never meant a word of it, all he wanted was for you to understand that he was trying to protect you from yourself. He would never let you make a deal with Sukuna, over his dead body. But first, he thought he should let the situation calm down.

An hour later his calls were left unanswered, his texts unread. He supposed that you had just turned your phone off, or you just weren’t speaking to him now. That didn’t stop him from staring down at his phone screen, desperately hoping that you would answer him sometime soon. That hour turned into two, then three and so on.

He went to bed, hoping that when he woke up the next morning there would be a reply from you. But it was now 1am in the morning, and he couldn’t sleep. Your silence was unnerving, it was incredibly unlike you. His mind raced, going through multiple scenarios of why you weren’t responding to him. It literally could be that you just weren’t talking to him. You were mad at him, and you had every right to be. But a part of him worried that maybe something had happened to you, that you had been hurt by some sort of spirit or you had expended your energy somewhere…and he wasn’t there to help you.

But he knew you were strong, you were more than capable of defending yourself. Of course you were, he had trained you himself. But he would continue to worry about you, he cared about you too much not to. He tossed and turned, becoming restless as he couldn’t get comfortable, sleep alluding him completely. A sudden thought crossed his mind, he should go to Jujutsu High and see you, apologise personally. But it was way too early in the morning, and he didn’t want to wake your either.

But he decided to do it anyway, your silence eating away at him. He got out of bed and dressed quickly, choosing for a more casual look than his daily suit before stuffing his phone into his jean pockets and exiting his apartment. He estimated that he would likely reach Jujutsu High a little before 2am, taking into account the traffic that would likely be in his way.

By the time he arrived, heavy raindrops had drenched his clothes. His hair was a mess, matted to his forehead as he skilfully and stealthily approached your room so as to not alert the guards. He was a bit surprised to see light coming from inside your room, but it allowed a sense of relief to settle over him as he knocked on your door gently. He could hear a faint shuffling sound from behind the door, his eyes watching as it swung open to reveal your form huddled in a blanket.

Your eyes widened, a short gasp leaving your lips as you frantically searched the hall behind him. “Nanami!? What are you doing here!?” You exclaimed in a hushed whisper, your eyebrows furrowing as you stared up at him in confusion. Nanami sighed softly “I…You weren’t answering your phone. I know you’re mad at me, but I wanted to apologise-“

“So, you came all the way here, at 2am in the morning, in the rain…to apologise?” You asked quietly, a light blush forming on your cheeks as you put two and two together. Nanami nodded, small droplets of water dripping from his hair and onto the floor.

“What I said, about me not needing your protection…I didn’t mean it. Knowing that you are by my side and using your ability to protect my life has made me realise that yes, being a Jujutsu sorcerer is extremely complicated, and these forces and techniques all work in mysterious ways, but I’ve come to love yours even more than the others. You are selfless, kind, and willing to risk your own life to protect the people you care about, though I would prefer that you didn’t. If you wish to speak with Sukuna and learn how to master your technique, then I won’t stop you, but I want you to know that no matter what happens I will not be happy about it, but I will stand by you and help you to the best of my ability.”

His words struck you with such intensity that your eyes stung with tears. Your heart beat wildly in your chest as you stared up at him with a soft and loving smile. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine, your chest filling with such emotion that you just…didn’t know what to do. You surged forward, wrapping your arms around his torso and hugging him tight. You didn’t care that Nanami was soaked, or that your clothes were now damp, all you cared about was him.

Nanami instinctively wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and burying his face in your hair. He thought about pressing his lips to your skalp, a gentle kiss to seal his apology and hopefully gain your acceptance. He wanted you to know that he was truly sorry, and that there was more that he could do if his words weren’t enough-

All too quickly you pulled away, stepping back and taking his hands in yours and tracing gentle circles on his palms. “I’m sorry too, for everything. I’m not going to speak with Sukuna, I’m going to do this my own way…and I would like you to be there with me-“

“Of course, anything” Nanami replied quickly, your smile causing his heart to swell with happiness. With a small motion of your head, you spoke softly “You can stay the night if you want, I don’t see the point in you coming all the way here and then going all the way back. You’ll be getting back by like 4am-“

“Oh no, really it’s fine Y/n I-“

“Nanami…” You whispered sternly, giving him a stern playful glare as you shook your head “…I insist. Seriously, I have some of Gojo’s old clothes that might fit you-“

“Why do you have Gojo’s old clothes?” He asked bewilderedly, giving you a confused look as you giggled awkwardly.

“Oh! No it’s nothing like that I promise! When I first got here in winter I didn’t have that many warm clothes, so he gave me a hoodie and trackpants to keep me warm!”

“Uh huh, sure” Nanami teased, chuckling as you hauled him inside. You groaned, lightly punching his shoulder as you closed the door behind him “Seriously? Gojo is like an older brother to me, I’ll get you the clothes just shhhhhhhh!” You scolded, to which Nanami glared at you playfully. He smirked, taking the clothes from you and disappearing into your bathroom.

When he emerged, he saw that you had already crawled into your bed. You gently patted the mattress beside you, the blush on your cheeks deepening. Nanami knew exactly what was going through your mind, and without another word he crawled under the covers beside you. Your heart was beating so fast you worried that he might hear it, as the two of you settled in. With a small whispered ‘goodnight’ to each other, you both fell into a comfortable sleep.

Come morning, Gojo grew concerned. You usually woke up early and met him for breakfast, and when you didn’t, he knew something had to be wrong. He made his way to your room, knocking gently and waiting patiently for your reply. When none came, Gojo slowly and quietly opened your bedroom door and his eyes widened in shock and awe.

You were lying in bed, tangled in Nanami’s arms! Your head was buried against his chest, with Nanami’s arms wrapped around you securely. The two of you were snoring softly, completely dead to the world as you shifted slightly, Nanami’s arms holding you closer whilst his chin came to rest on top of your head. Gojo snorted quietly, covering his mouth with his hand so as to not burst with laughter. He needed evidence that this happened, otherwise no one would ever believe him. Hell, he wouldn’t believe him if he wasn’t looking at this historic moment right now.

So Gojo quickly took out his phone, snapping a few pictures before exclaiming victoriously in a hushed whisper…that was until a pillow smacked him in the face. With a loud ‘oof’ he heard a stern voice growl “Delete that, or I will make sure you regret it”.

“No way Kento! I have been waiting forever to catch the two of you like this, I need evidence this happened otherwise people will think I’m crazy!”

“You are crazy!” Gojo heard you screamed, your voice loud and high pitched “Get out!”.

The glare that Nanami directed towards him was so intense that Gojo felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness consume him, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up on end as the familiar feeling of cursed energy hung in the air. Gojo shrieked as he left your room, phone clutched in hand as he laughed evilly.

The one time he did…

Finally, a quiet night in.

A night that was undisturbed by the sudden appearance of a cursed spirit, one of your fellow first years requiring your attention, or Gojo suddenly appearing from nowhere and ruining the peace.

Deciding to follow up on that nice dinner he wanted to make you weeks ago, when everyone went out bowling instead, he invited you over to his apartment so he could make you your favourite dish. You practically lived at his apartment most days anyway now, he didn’t mind though, he loved your company, and honestly wouldn’t have minded if you said that you wanted to stay permanently.

He kept sneaking glances at you from the kitchen, watching your huddled form on the lounge as your curled up with one of the books he was reading. He was already about halfway through it, but you had taken a great interest when he had explained the plot to you on the morning when Gojo had caught the two of you together. He watched as your eyes skimmed the pages, the way you unconsciously bit your lip as you tilted your head to the side in intrigue. They way you smiled when you-

“Shit!” Nanami hissed, the knife in his hand clattering against the stone-top loudly as he stepped backward away from the bench. A sharp stinging pain coursed through his hand, a strange warmth spreading downward as he lifted his hand up in front of his face. He cursed again at the blood that poured from the cut on his finger, immediately turning around to face the sink and run his hand under the water.

“Are you okay?” He heard you call out from behind him, the soft ‘thump’ of a book landing on the coffee table echoing throughout his apartment. Nanami winced as the water made contact with the cut, the stinging sensation becoming unbearable as he allowed the blood to dribble down the drain. “I’m fine, I just dropped something” he lied, bracing his other hand against the kitchen sink as he pressed his lips together in a thin line. The pain was becoming worse, he’d surely cut deep hence the amount of blood. He shook his head in annoyance, cursing himself internally.

Damn it, he’d ruined everything. The food was no doubt covered in blood, completely inedible. Just one night, one night where something didn’t go wrong-

Nanami watched with wide eyes as your hands suddenly appeared in his field of vision, reaching across him and turning off the tap. He stood practically frozen as you turned him to face you, taking his injured hand in yours and holding it close to your face to examine the cut on his index finger.

You pouted slightly, peering up at him through your lashes as you ‘tsked’. “Well, that was silly of you” You scolded, shaking your head teasingly while Nanami blushed a bright red in embarrassment. He cleared his throat awkwardly “I-It was an accident” He stuttered, feeling the weight on his chest lift as you laughed softly.

“I would hope so…” you replied calmly, placing his hand in-between both of yours as you closed your eyes “…I wouldn’t be very happy with you if it was intentional”. He watched in amazement as your hands began to glow, the blue cursed energy flame consuming both your hand and his. That familiar pins and needles sensation settled in his hand as he watched the cut on his finger close, the blue flame flickering out as the wound completely disappeared. His eyes flickered upward to watch your face for any sign of discomfort, waiting for any sign of fatigue that would indicate that you had expended too much of your energy.

But when you opened your eyes and released a deep and calm sigh, Nanami felt an overwhelming sense of pride consume him. Your eyes met his and you smiled, teasingly holding his hand up in front of his face “See? All better. Was that so hard?”.

Nanami chuckled, shaking his head at your playfulness. You had come so far with your cursed technique, it practically didn’t bother you that much anymore. The two of you had figured out why healing others took such a toll on you, and it was because your cursed energy was so potent that it often didn’t align with someone else’s. You had to attune yourself to their cursed energy, match its frequency, and then allow your technique to flow through them in order to heal them. It was harder for some more than others, with Nanami it pretty much came naturally to you now.

He examined his finger, still impressed by the fact that there was no scar tissue left behind. Your abilities amazed him, it always left him speechless. “So? How does it look?” You asked softly, waiting anxiously for his answer. Nanami shrugged, turning his hand over with a slight huff. “Eh”.

“EH!?” You exclaimed, your eyes widening in shock as you stood there bewildered “There’s nothing there anymore! What do you mean eh!?”.

Nanami erupted in laughter, pulling away from you and clutching his stomach as it ached. He watched as realisation dawned on your face, flinching away from you as you lightly began to punch his arm lightly. “Oh you ass! That’s not nice!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it…” Nanami replied, wiping a stray tear from his eye as he composed himself “the look on your face was priceless”.

He watched as you pouted, folding your arms across your chest as you turned away from him. He felt a bit bad, turning you around to face him again as an apologetic smile formed on his face. “I’m sorry, I was only teasing” He spoke softly, to which you nodded slowly.

You hummed a small reply, avoiding his gaze on purpose as he tried to get your attention. You looked at anything but him, and your teasing laughter was driving him insane. Your laughter grew louder when he grabbed your waist, pulling you against him so that there was no space between you. Your eyes widened in shock at the sudden movement, a bright blush forming on your cheeks as you stared up at him.

It happened all so suddenly as Nanami dipped down to capture your lips with his. You immediately melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands settled firmly against your waist. You found yourself being moved backward, your lower back making contact with the countertop as you were now effectively pinned between the counter and his chest. You moaned softly, your heart racing as your hands tangled themselves in his hair.

You had been wanting this to happen for months now, this kiss had been way overdue. A surprised squeak left your lips as Nanami’s hands moved down your waist to your thighs, not once breaking the kiss as he effortlessly lifted you up so that you now sat on the countertop. He moved to stand between your legs, one hand resting on your thigh while the other moved back to your waist. A pleasant shiver coursed through you as you inched yourself closer, a low groan resonating deep within the man before you as he deepened the kiss.

Eventually the two of you pulled away, breathing in much needed oxygen as you placed your foreheads together. Nanami so desperately wanted to continue this, months of pent-up feelings and emotions had finally amounted to this long-awaited kiss, and he wanted more. He froze completely as he watched your eyes fluttered open, your hands slowly tracing downward from his neck and grasping the tie around his neck.

“What would you say about skipping dinner? We could maybe do this another-“

Before you could finish his lips were on your again, your words dying out and your train of thought forgotten as Nanami lifted you into his arms and carried you towards his bedroom. You soon became lost in a tangle of limbs and sheets, the night becoming intensely pleasurable and one that you wouldn’t soon forget.

When Gojo visited the next morning, concerned at the fact that neither one of you were answering his texts or calls, he soon got his answer. Entering Nanami’s apartment unannounced, his bright blue eyes widened in shock and embarrassment at the sight before him. You were sat on the kitchen counter wearing nothing but Nanami’s favourite blue shirt as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, and Nanami was completely shirtless, glaring towards him in annoyance and rage.

Gojo had never left a room faster than he did that morning, not once looking behind him in case an angry Nanami was hot on his heels.

[pandorxxx]

Damsel (Chapter 1)

??? x Ash Na’vi fem reader (All aged up)

Warnings: light cursing, heat cycles, injuries (blood), fingering, self pleasure, voyeurism, heavy mentions of sex, intense orgasm.

🔞mdni🔞

Synopsis: a hunting trip gone terribly wrong. Ending in you on the wrong side of the forest, hurt, scared, and in heat. What happens when the son of Toruk Makto finds you?

Agony. Pain. Fear. Need you say more?

Your Aegean skin was cold and damp from your sweat. Yet you were hot, everywhere. Your womb ached and burned from your current state. Your heat was near.

Your weekly hunting trip was cut short because of it. You were on the wrong side of the forest in the middle of the night. Scared? No. Scared wasn’t even the word. You were frightened, paranoid even.

It was a written rule that the ash clan and Omatikayan people didn’t get along. Never have, never will. And there you were, weak, hurt, and vulnerable in their forest.

You laid against the hard bark of a tree. Writhing in your own pain. You were a delirious mess, panting, trying to fill your burning lungs with air. You occasionally would flutter in and out of consciousness in exhaustion. But would quickly gasp for air when you found yourself doing so.

Your plan was to stay still and quiet until sunrise, praying that you wouldn’t come across a native Navi, or any of their angry creatures.

Not to mention the crippling pain you were in. There was no way you could stand with out assistance. Your whole body was trembling, hot to the touch.

Your loincloth was soaked with your slick, smearing against your trembling thighs. But your delirium deemed it quite impossible to even attempt to satisfy yourself.

You knew you were hurt, and the pain was coming from your leg. However, your vision was blurred with the constant flow of tears.

Oh, how you wished to be home.

You contemplated with yourself:

If you were to stay out here, it was a very slim chance at your survival. But maybe if you just tried hard enough to stand, you could get out of the forest.

You choose the latter, using what strength you had in your arms to attempt at shimmying up the tree. It was a slow and steady stride, your back becoming scraped from the pressure on the bark.

You used your un-injured leg to push your body up. Whimpering and whining the entire way. And just when you thought you had it, your knees buckled under you, sending you tumbling back down the tree with a loud thud. “Fuck.” You strained, leaning your head back against the tree in frustration.

If no one knew of your presence, they sure did now. “Who’s there?” A deep voice uttered in the shadows. You audibly gasped, immediately palming your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself quiet.

His strong, muscular arm made an appearance before he did. He held his bow, ready to shoot if necessary. The darker shade of blue and his stripe pattern told you everything you needed to know.

Next was his broad back. Muscles flexing with every turn he made. His strong legs, legs of a true warrior. His steps were slow and quiet, scanning his area. His hair shaking dramatically with every turn of his head. He was…beautiful. But dangerous to you. So you kept quiet, stopped your breathing, hoping that he would soon walk away.

Unlucky for you, a wave of pain washed over your leg. Throbbing uncontrollably and unbearably. To the point that you had no other choice but to let out a soft whimper. His ears perked, and his entire body turned to you in an instance, drawing his bow back simultaneously.

“PLEASE. IM HURT.” You whimpered, trembling hands going up in surrender. His amber eyes widened at you, slowly turning the bow away from your small frame.

He scanned you from a distance, ruling out your potential to be a threat to him. His eyebrows were ruffled in confusion while your eyes were riddled with fear.

“I-I can’t move. Please, don’t hurt me.” You strained, shaking your head in fear as your eyes welled with more tears than before.

“I won’t hurt you.” He reassured, bending down to place his bow on the mossy ground. He looked into your eyes, his demeanor becoming softer. He threw his hands up in surrender to show you that he meant no harm to you.

“See? It’s fine.” He nodded, standing to his full height slowly, hands still up to keep you comfortable with his presence.

You eyed him frantically, still unsure about his intentions. Yet and still you nodded slowly, letting him know that you understood.

He smiled nervously, scanning your entire frame for a moment. He started at your wet, curly hair that flowed down your shoulders. Your damp, muted blue skin told him that you weren’t omatikayan. And so did your black, crystal embroidered cloths. Then his eye contact trailed down to your bloody leg, and his breathing hitched.

“Eywa, You’re bleeding, miss.” He spoke with concern, darting over to you. His quick strides made you scoot back against the tree in fear, and he noticed.

“Shit! I-I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.” He shook his head, squatting down in-front of you. The night breeze provided you with a wiff of his musky scent, so addictive to you in this state. Your eyes fluttered between amber and chartreuse with each blink as you tried to snap out of it.

His eyes squinted slightly in confusion. “Are you ok?” He asked, scanning your entire body again.

“I’m…in heat.” You spoke with a shaky voice, jaw clenching in restraint as your eyes trailed his broad chest.

His eyes widened, realizing that you might actually be a threat to him in your state. There was so much going on that he didn’t even realize your strong pheromones that lingered until you confessed. As addictive as they became, he used all the possible restraint he could muster to tend to you. “Yes. I-I know now. You’re at the height of it.” He nodded, sending you a smile riddled with pity.

“Can I?” He asked, pointing at your injured leg. You sighed, closing your eyes in exhaustion before opening them again. You gave him a hesitant nod as consent. He reached for your leg slowly, gently grazing your skin before grabbing it gently.

You jumped at the contact. His touch was firm and satisfying. Like ice on a burn. He halted his movements, shooting his head up at you.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?” He asked in concern. You shook your head slowly. Eyeing his chiseled frame. “Your hands are…strong.” You strained, admiring how his entire hand wrapped around your calf with no problem. He looked down as well, a light chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” He nodded, shooting you a lighthearted smile. You blushed through the pain, nodding your head in response. He began to pull out an elastic bandage from his woven pouch, unrolling it to the size he needed.

“So, what’s your name? I-if you’re comfortable with sharing.” He asked, taking a seat in-front of you, placing your ankle on his thigh. You watched intently. “Y/n.” You whispered, watching him cut the bandage with his dagger.

“Y/n, Huh? That’s very pretty.” He smiled, laser focused on stretching the bandage. You watched his abs and arms flex with each pull of the bandage. Putting you in a trance.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked, watching your eyes flash between amber and chartreuse again. You shook your head, eyes becoming normal again. You sighed in frustration, snapping your attention to his concerned face.

“It’s close. Really close.” You nodded, watching him tie the bandage gently around your womb. He sighed as well, feeling so much pity for you in this moment.

“Im so sorry, y/n. Trust me, I know how much pain you’re in right now. Just stay calm, ok?” He sent you a soft glance. You nodded, still watching him bandage your leg up. Silence fell for a few seconds before you broke the ice.

“I-I never asked your name.” You stuttered, trailing your eyes back to his face. “Neteyam. My name is Neteyam. It’s nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances of course.” He chuckled, still focused on your leg.

“Neteyam?” You whimpered, voice shaky and full of fear. His eyes shot up at you in concern. “What’s the matter?” He asked, hurrying to secure the bandage.

“I’m scared.” You whispered, teeth chattering together as tears fell from your puffy eyes. His gaze became soft, gently letting your leg down on the ground to wipe your tears.“I know, I know. Is this your first heat?” He asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes. I-I feel…hot.” You whined, nuzzling your head into his hand with a soft purr rumbling in your chest. Your tail began to tap the mossy ground beneath you, and that’s all he needed to know. He soon realized that his presence was speeding your heat up, making it more intense for you. An although you were tempting, he had no intentions on helping you through this.

“Where? Where is it hot. Show me.” He asked hesitantly. You grabbed his hand, trailing it down to your stomach. He sighed, watching intently.

You then proceeded to slide his hand down lower, until it reached your slimy loincloth, soaked with your slick. You slid his strong hand in between your legs, closing them around his arm. Your head flew back against the tree, letting out a soft moan at the friction.

His eyes widened, watching you slightly roll your hips to hump his hand, using it for any type of relief you could get. Even if it wasn’t much.

“Y/n. I-I know you’re not well right now. But I can take you to my grandmother, she can help you.” He reassured, his gaze still set on the sight in-front of him.

You shook your head in disagreement. Eyes falling shut as you whimpered loudly at his firm hand against your clothed cunt. “Your people will hurt me.” You moaned, holding onto his strong arm, using it as leverage to speed up the pace.

“Listen, I-I know our people don’t get along. But I promise…they won’t hurt you. My father is olo’eyktan, I can talk to him.” He explained, his voice straining in restraint at your scent. Your addictive scent.

“No. Just help me, now. I-It hurts.” You whimpered, hooking your fingers under your loincloth, shimmying it down to your ankles.

“I can’t help you. You could get pregnant, y/n. And my father would skin me.” He explained, his words going in one ear and out the other as you spread your legs wide. Your thighs connected together with numerous strings of slick as they pulled apart. Your juices flowed out of you like a slow leak, trickling to the mossy ground beneath you.

“Fuck.” Neteyam whispered, running his hand through his hair. His jaw clenched in restraint, eyeing your glistening cunt. “Just touch me then. Please, neteyam. I-I can’t take it anymore.” You cried, using the pad of your fingers to rub circles into your sensitive clit. Your moans became progressively louder as you rolled your hips against your hand.

You spread your folds opened with two fingers. Using the other hand to lightly tap on your clit, sending you into overdrive. Neteyam was stuck, his cock throbbing against the tight fabric that held it. He was completely tranced by your scent and your erotic behavior. All he could do was watch you.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, finally sliding all 3 of your fingers inside of yourself, coaxing the nastiest squelching sounds with each thrust of your hand. Your eyes came back from there trip behind your sockets as a glowing bright green, pupils replaced with slits. Your heat had taken over.

His eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he watched you aggressively fuck your hand, looking for some sort of relief. And finally, it was coming. Your stomach visibly tensed, and your whimpers became so loud to the point where Neteyam had to cover your mouth as you pleasured yourself.

“Gonna cum?” He asked, staring at you in awe. You nodded lazily, tears flowing down your face as you whimpered into his hand.

“Ok, go ahead. But you have to keep it down.” He whispered. His deep voice being all the motivation you needed. Your eyes rolled back again, legs trembling uncontrollably.

And just like that, you had came undone. Squirting all over Neteyam’s lower abdomen, tapping your clit to make the orgasm more intense.

“Oh my fucking God.” He muttered breathily, muffling your screams with his hand. His eyes scanned his soaking wet stomach before trailing back up to your face. Eyebrows scrunched together as you came down form your intense high.

“Feeling…better?” He asked, already knowing what your answer would be. With his hand still over your mouth, you shook your head with a small whimper. He sighed, taking his hand from your mouth.

“I-I need you. I need this.” You whined, grabbing his bulge, massaging it in your dainty hands. He grunted, watching you slide your hand into his loincloth to feel him. He let out a series of low curses, squeezing his eyes shut. Although Neteyam was a man of great restraint, it was slipping away from him quickly.

And this was the moment that he realized, he had gotten himself into a very tricky situation.

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[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 3 - Chance~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: As you adjust to life in the hotel, you start to form bonds with other guests and offer your help when needed. However, things take a turn when you faint and wake up in the room of the one person you hoped to avoid.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, Val is mentioned, Angel gets hurt (sorry), cursing, fluff, eventual smut (the next part is a SPICY one sinners), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+, this is the last shorter chapter, I'll start feeding you more!

1.7k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (You're on it!) Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

Over the next few weeks you seem to adjust well to the hotel. You try to help Nifty with at least one meal a day, give advice to Charlie on different ‘redemption exercises’, and have even helped an eggboy or two not get scrambled. Alastor seemed to keep his distance which was much appreciated (especially after hearing the stories and history of the “Radio Demon”). You do what you can to fill the void you feel from not being able to help to your full potential. Of course, there really hasn’t been a need for your expertise. But as they say, ask and you shall receive.

Angel was coming in from yet another brutal shift with Val. He was usually quick to dismiss the bruising around his wrists and face. “Comes with the job babe!” He’d say through a toothy smile. “I didn’t do a good job if I don’t come home with some battle scars!” You’d share a look with Husk, silently agreeing how fucked up this was, but Angel always changed the subject to avoid any pity or awkwardness.

This time was different. It was later than usual. Everyone but you and Husk had long since made their way to bed. Angel walked in staggering and not in the ‘oh he was out with Cherri’ way. He was barely able to make it to the couch before collapsing to his hands and knees. His breathing shallow and raspy – you could hear the blood gurgling in his lungs as he struggled with each breath. This was the worst Val had done yet. That motherfucker is going to kill him one day if he keeps this up – Overlord or not, he’s going to pay. You take a mental note to make a visit to Val, but right now, Angel needed help.

Carefully you try to lift him onto the couch. Angel hisses from the sudden movement. Damnit this is bad. I need a few seconds without any eyes around. “Husk, be a dear and run up to my room please. I have some medical supplies by my bed.”

“No need, I have some stuff behind the ba----” he stops when he sees the glare you’re shooting over your shoulder. “Ah alright fine, I’ll be right back.” he grumbled as he made his way up the stairs. That was the great thing about Husk - he wasn’t one to ask too many questions.

Finally alone you lay Angel back on the couch. “Hey Angel? Babe? I need you to look at me. I know it hurts and it’s hard to breathe but I have a trick that’ll help relieve some of the pressure. Trust me?” He places one of his hands on your shoulder as confirmation, unable to get enough air to speak. Time to work my magic.

Kneeling by the couch, you gently place your hands on his ribs and stomach while leaning your head over his chest, “Alright babe I need you to take a deep breath and close your eyes. This won’t feel great.” You wince as the words leave your mouth. For this to work you’d have to cause him some discomfort otherwise some more complication questions might arise. R̷̢͙̃ǘ̷̮͔͠l̵̰̝̆ḛ̷̀͊ ̵͕̍#̵̜̌2̷̼́̅ Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have.

“Ok eyes closed and breathe in 3……2…..1….” I’m sorry Angel, you deserve so much better than this.  In one motion you shove into his ribs sending him writhing in pain while you place a soft kiss on his chest. The internal injuries made it easy to hide the pink glow that usually came from the wound, however the pain…yeah that shit still felt like torture. During your time training with Carmilla you learned the graver the injury, the more agonizing it was for you. After a few intense moments of pain, you pull away and sit back on your legs, trying to hide the lingering sting you felt in your lungs.

Angel groaned as he opened his eyes, finally able to take a proper breath. “Uhhhgg—what the fuuuuuuuuuuck was that?”

“Just some tricks I had to learn living in the city. You know how rough it gets out there. Glad you’re already feeling better.” You peck Angel’s cheek, feeling a soft twinge on your lips. The last bit of bruising on his face fades without him even realizing it. “Thanks toots. I don’t know how you did it, but I owe ya one.”

On queue Husk turns down the stairs with your medical kit. His face twists in a mix of relief and shock watching Angel up moving as if he wasn’t just on the verge of death five minutes earlier. He chuckles making his way back behind the bar. “Damn you’ve got quite the touch I see.” You tense at his choice of words. Fuck fuck fuck…calm down, he didn’t see anything. “Remind me to keep you on speed dial. Satan knows this one is bound to need you around again!” Husk points to Angel who by now has taken his usual place at the bar. “Oh shut up pussycat – the only thing I need right now is a few shots to forget this day ever happened! Let’s go! Booze me up Mr. Bartender!”

Deciding you have had enough excitement for the night, you say good evening to the guys and drag yourself through the quiet halls. Cursing the aftershock your body was going to endure after having to heal such extensive damage. It wasn’t horrible, more annoying like a bad hangover or flu, but the joy and warmth you felt from being able to help always made the pain more than worth it. You were just a few doors away from your room when your vision blurred. Why is the hall spinning? I don’t remember drinking. Oh fuck ----

Soft music fills your ears as you regain some form of consciousness. A familiar smell floods your senses causing your eyes to shoot open. Looking around you realize you’re in Alastor’s room. Not that you’d been here before, but between the bayou to your left and the freshly laundered red suits hanging by the door - it was obvious. Plus, his smell filled the room. You’d only dreamt of that smell and his warmth at least twice a week since first meeting the demon, much to your frustration.

Sharp static and ringing fill your ears as you sit up. Is this going to happen every time with this guy? Alastor appears in his chair by the bayou, chest puffed out and legs crossed. “Finally awake I see. I was just leaving my radio tower for the evening when you were coming down the hall. Quite a spectacle watching you try to walk straight. Drink too much with our good pal Husker?”

There he goes again trying to drill his eyes into your soul. You’ve seen him interact with the others. His eyes never had the same intensity as they did with you. Lie lie lie. “Yeah, you know how hard him and Angel go some nights. Guess I shouldn’t try to keep up next time.” You try to laugh it off hoping the answer was sufficient enough for him to drop the subject.

It wasn’t.

“Hmmm that’s funny. I didn’t smell a bit of alcohol when I picked you up off that floor.” Shit. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything dear however blatantly lying to me will get you on a side you don’t want to be on.” The static in his voice was piercing. You stared at him in silence. Work brain work, please give me anything. Rule #4 Never let your w̸͉̐e̵͓͐a̷̘͆k̴̭̏ñ̶͔e̶̢͒s̵̩̉ś̵͈è̸̮š̶͚ ̴̣̏s̴̖̈́h̷̲͐o̶̳͗w̷̱̾. Your lack of response apparently told him everything he needed in the moment. Standing up now, he begins to mindfully take off his jacket, unbutton his vest, and push up his sleeves.

This is it. This I how I die. And all because ---- oh fucking hell --- how did he get even more attractive? Is he doing this on purpose? Wow I’ve really got to get my priorities straight.

You can feel your heart pounding into your throat in anticipation as he sits in front of you on the bed. He slowly removes his gloves and tosses them to the side table.

“Let’s try this again…“

He reaches for your hands making you jerk slightly but he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. You feel him pull you and as if under a spell, you follow mindlessly until you’re resting on your knees. He brings your inner wrist to his lips, gently peppering kisses between his words.

“What could possibly... “ kiss

“cause someone to drop as if… “ kiss

“the very life was sucked out of them?” kiss

An unfamiliar heat rips through your body, settling in your stomach and a little lower if you were being honest. You’ve never allowed anyone to be this intimate with you. Rule #3 N̴e̵v̴e̶r̵ ̷b̶r̷i̶n̸g̷ ̷a̸n̵y̷one too close.

“I – I – don’t..I didn’t – just tired.“ you give up on trying to form a coherent answer. What is he trying to get out of this? Alastor rests your hands on his cheeks. A deep sigh leaving his lips when he feels your warmth. You didn’t dare move, realizing you were just as touch starved as the demon in front of you.

Your mind is at full blown war. Torn between the desire to lean into this precarious high and absolute rage that he was trying to get into your head.

“I need to know so I can help you, my dear. I want to protect you.” His voice was clear but low. It lacked any trace of his usual radio effect. It’s as if he was dropping every façade. Speaking to you not as the Radio Demon but as just Alastor. “You and I could do great things [Y/N]. Trust me. Let me show you.”

What is he doing? I have worked relentlessly to be one of the strongest, most elusive demons in Hell. I fear no one. I need NO ONE. Yet here I am completely unravelling…

….to the Radio Demon.

Rule #̴̤͌1̴̢͝ ̶̘̽N̵̹̐e̴̯̋v̷̳̈́e̸̯̎r̵̠̕ ̸͈̊t̵̼͑ŗ̷̃u̴͔̓s̷̢̑t̴̪̓ ̵͎̊a̴̺͛n̶̛̳o̴̺͆t̴̤̿h̶̗̿e̴̞̋ȓ̸͜ Overlord.

[catcze]

Boxer wriothesley making out with you after a fight

16+ !! Suggestive content !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Wriothesley x GN! reader

「 ### : 」 Fluff, some suggestive content & mentions of sex but nothing actually 18+. Modern au !!

「 CWS : 」 Written pre release so potentially ooc !! Light mentions of injuries. making out 🥴. established relationship. Hand holding & hair pulling. Wriothesley lifts you up at one point and is so down bad. Wriothesley calls the reader sweetheart and baby. Reader wears perfume. Author knows jack shit about boxing and has never watched a boxing match so please excuse any and all inaccuracies

I got this ask and blacked out i saw red i was caught in a whole TRANCE do not perceive me i lost my sanity as i wrote this because the feelings that overcame me at the thought of shirtless, post-fight Wriothesley who shines w/ sweat and is full of post-match adrenaline was too much for my mental capacity to bear

The route to Wriothesley's locker room is one that you can navigate with your eyes closed— a confidence born from familiarity. Every time after a match, whether he wins or he loses, you always find your way from your front row seat to the door you stand before now. The first few times, he had instructed his managers to come pluck you up from your front row seat and escort you, but now the staff just bring you as far as the backstage security clearance, leaving you to find your own way.

You knock on the hard door twice, giving it a moment, then enter—

— and you're immediately swept up into Wriothesley's arms, a startled yelp escaping you as you clutch his shoulders on instinct.

"Hey, sweetheart," Wriothesley murmurs, pressing his nose to your neck while he holds you aloft, your legs tightly around his bare torso. He breathes your perfume in once, twice, like he can't get enough of it. "You enjoy the show?"

"Wriothesley!" you gasp, trying to tug free of his hold, gripping his hair and trying to pull him off of you to no avail. He stubbornly melts even more against you, pushing your back further against the door you came in through. "Put me down! You should be resting right now, not-"

"Not enjoying the fruit of my victory?" he teases against your neck, his tongue licking up the skin, making heat pool in your belly. Your shiver does not go unnoticed, and you can feel the quirk of his lips where they're pressed up against your neck. "'m fine, baby. Already got checked out and everything. Just need to go home and get some ice, that's all," he reassures you, pressing kisses to your neck and the side of your face, his hands squeezing your thighs appreciatively as he keeps you pinned up against the door.

You relax against him then, glad that he's mostly fine. The match had been over quick, anyways— it hadn't dragged out long enough for him to get hurt too badly. He had definitely walked away in much better shape than his opponent, at least.

The hand in his hair stops trying to tug him away, instead pulling him closer. You scratch his scalp and untangle little knots in his hair while he takes his fill of lathering attention onto your skin, making him purr delightedly in between leaving marks and bites wherever his mouth can reach.

When he adjusts his hold on you to free one hand (there's a zing in your veins when he effortlessly holds you up with ease) so it can play with the edge of your shirt, you reach down to pull it away, weaving your fingers together instead.

"We can't fuck in your locker room," you tell him resolutely, a frown on your face. "You have an interview when you go out and your managers will have your head and mine if you go on air looking like you just smashed."

He sighs but acquesces, pulling away from your neck to level his face just a few inches from yours. "Just a kiss, then. That okay?"

You nod and he's on you in an instant. With the short time you both have, Wriothesley hardly dawdles as his tongue traces along the seam of your mouth, instantly dipping in when you grant him entrance. There's a sigh from you and a low groan from him when his tongue meets your own, and he squeezes your hand that's still connected to his.

Wriothesley bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp and pull him harder against you by his hair. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed against yours, the sweat on him making him stick to you. Fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, his thumb drawing shapes you can't make out in your kiss-fueled haze.

His tongue licks the inside of your mouth, sighs of bliss transferring from his mouth into yours. "You're so good to me, baby," Wriothesley mumbles against your lips, eyes half lidded and something hungering behind them.

You can't even bring it in yourself to speak, tugging him closer once again because in that moment he is focusing too much on speaking and not enough on kissing you. He chuckles at your desperation, but gives in to you as he always does, letting himself be dragged further into your embrace.

Fuck it, the words are on the tip of your tongue. Fuck the interview. Put your hands under my shirt kiss me somewhere else—

Knock knock.

Like a gunshot, your eyes fly open at the interruption and you hand jolts, accidentally pulling on his hair too hard and making him hiss when he detaches from you. "Sorry, sorry," you murmur to him, pressing a fleeting peck to his lips. Now, it is your turn to bury your nose into his neck.

"You good in there?" The voice of his manager comes floating through the door, muffled. "The interviewer's been waiting a while by now, you know."

"Right, right. Be out in a bit." He hopes his manager doesn't realize that his voice is far too close to the door than it normally should be.

Wriothesley has to stifle a dissatisfied sound, maneuvering you off the door and gently placing you down on the bench in the room, mindful of the way your legs shake. A gentle kiss is placed to the crown of your head, then to the back of the hand he holds before he lets go.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says in a low rumble, voice deepened from the makeout. His lips are swollen from all the kissing— you hope people attribute it to his fight instead of a post-fight makeout. "Sit tight here, I'll come back for you when I'm done."

Then that hunger reappears in his eyes and his smile gets the slightest bit sharper. "We'll go home and continue where we left off. I promise."

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[mitraoki]

Hi hi! I'd like to rq a Ken Sato x Gundam pilot (pilot of a giant war robot, similar to a transformer) reader, fem or gen if possible!

She's slightly older and used to work with the KDF but quit due to realising the problems KDF has caused.

OR! She could have worked for the Japanese army but due to a horrible accident during a mission she could've been injured badly and was forced to retire early.

Possibly low-key sassy and stoic personality that she acquired after years of working for the army, that undermine her politeness and sweet personality.

And if possible, can she wear an eye patch?

If you don't like this feel free to ignore :( But I really like this concept and your writing style so it'd be really nice to see it written out :)

Don't tire yourself out!

😧🪒😦 - Anon

hot and cold. (ken sato x gn! reader)

note; HELLO anon!! thank you soo much for requesting. this is a REALLY good background you've given me, i just hope i've done it enough justice for you🥹🥹please let me know of your thoughts about this! i always welcome feedback <33

as usual, requests are open!! refer to my rules for a better view on what i write (✿◕‿◕✿)

masterlist.

i would say that after ken's experiences with emi and bonding with his dad, he becomes more open to various possibilities. yes he's happy he's slowly recovering what he'd lost long ago, but there's definitely something in particular that's missing in his life.

he hasn't thought about love in a long, long time. back in america it was always crushes, or simple dates but nothing ever lasted longer than he wanted it to. ken sato hates cliffhangers.

you, on the other hand, weren't hoping for much. all your life you've worked - very obviously - as a tool for the KDF, but what good did it bring you except to push yourself away from people?? so you did, not wanting to be around people quite often, so much as to even isolating yourself.

after learning of your boss' potential demise, what good is there staying in an organization that left you completely shallow? gone was the need to remain in KDF, signing the very last paper regarding your resignation.

"i should get an eye patch," you muttered, staring into the mirror with a dull look. it was no news for the frontliners to experience heavy injuries, but you definitely did not expect one of your eyes to become completely dysfunctional.

it had only been a few days since your departure from the shackles when you just had to bump into the well-known, ecstatic baseball player, ken sato in a convenience store. purely out of coincidence, of course. squinting your eyes, you sent a nod his way.

"heard of you," you uttered, stretching your lips into a thin line as you headed towards the counter, paying for the stuff you'd picked out for dinner later.

....leaving the man himself completely speechless.

who were you? why didn't you say anything else about his plays? have you attended any of them? were you pissed that he wasn't playing to his full potential? and what was with the eye patch?

he needed to know more of you.

i'd like to think he'd ask more about you from mina, gaining as much information as he could about you. if you had any specific history, some kind of secret that he was yet to uncover. lo and behold, he dug far enough to find out you once worked with his enemy. emphasis on worked.

a shiver ran down his spine when he read those words. he didn't need to see it, but he could tell there was more to than what meets the eye.

"something the matter, ken?" mina questioned, her holographic screen dissipating.

"oh- how difficult do you think this is gonna be?"

"....i cannot give you a definitive answer, ken. i would depend on the way you'd choose to approach her."

and approached you he did. not exactly, but again. it was purely out of coincidence when he saw you sitting by the window of a quaint cafe, sipping on your favorite beverage.

"baseball boy?" you called out behind him while he was "trying his best to order his favorite drink." his words, not yours.

"fancy seeing you 'round here."

"yeah! well. you know me - super down to earth," he chuckled nervously, clearing his throat after.

but you can see just how bad he was suppressing himself from throwing the biggest questions he had for you. out of respect, you had hoped. nodding, you walked back to your seat after grabbing your long-awaited dessert.

that was - until - the same baseball boy practically begged to sit at the same table as you. there it was. one would expect the fan to do most of the questioning towards their idol, but in this case it was different.

you were no fan, and ken surely wasn't one himself. the KDF doesn't really have a good image going on, after all. it was the slight glimmer of hope in your heart that this man had a pure heart, just wanting to explore what he hasn't in this big, cruel world.

heaving a huge sigh, you gave in. this can go on. what's the worst that could happen?

and it did. for hours. hours turning into days. days turning into weeks. months. suddenly a year had passed, and you were now in his arms, being the little spoon you had desired for so long.

he hears story after story of yours. all the secret missions you'd gone through before resigning. the eye that you'd lost a long time ago.

ken sato was careful with your heart, soul and you. he cares for you like the world's most fragile glass, holds you in his arms like he might lose you the moment he lets go. he kisses every single scar of yours like he was silently acknowledging the sacrifices you'd made through the years.

and for the first time, you felt like there was some meaning. you needed to see this through. you wanted ken sato more than ever now. the way he smiles, the way his eyes glimmer when you tell him something new. the way he cups your face and reminds you of your worth.

it's mind boggling to know someone slightly younger than you has such a vast and mature mind, ready to accept you when no one else has. life had always been stagnant. you wake up, you face the days ahead. some conversations with or without you. unwanted noises that bothered you to the core.

it was just something about ken, his voice perhaps. or it could be the way he wants to listen. he chooses to listen even when he doesn't understand, because this man would do anything in the world to be in yours.

"i don't know what the others have told you, y/n. but in my eyes, i can keep them on you forever and i'd never grow tired."

and those were the words that left you speechless, the fresh warm streak of tears flowing down your cheeks. it was such a rare sight to see someone so stoic, so persistent break down. but even then, ken sato was there to hold you tight, whisper soothing words into your ear and pepper you with endless kisses.

you'd grown absolutely smitten for this man, and i would say you'd never regret a single moment with him.

all created content belongs to mitraoki. reposts/remakes are not allowed.

[uhohnotthisagain]

What they didn’t see

Summary: Just your classic friends to lovers with some good old fashioned angst.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Vampire

Warnings: mention of injury, angst, pining, fighting, weapons, swearing.

Word count: 2.0k

a/n: Enjoy, I hope it’s ok x

My masterlist

“Hey.” You walk into the motel room with two bags full of food. “I’ve got dinner.”

“Oh my god, you’re amazing.” Dean rushes towards you to grab the bags. “Did you get any -” “Yea, it's in this bag.” You point to the bag with the pie in it, sitting down on the couch next to Sam as Dean grabs a chair to sit opposite the two of you. Sam smirked at the pink tint that had appeared on your face.

As the three of you dig in, you can’t help but admire Dean as he devours his burger before moving on to the pie. What most people would find disgusting, watching his messily eat his food, you found it oddly pleasing. Sam nudges you, and when you turn to look at him, all he does is smirk, prompting you to roll your eyes at him before focusing on your own burger.

You had known the Winchester’s for years. Your father and John used to hunt together, leaving the three of you at the motel. When your father was killed by a vampire, it made sense for you to stay with them, seeing as you had no where else to go. As you grew up, feelings towards Dean began to grow, but you pushed them away. He only ever saw you as a little sister anyway. Nothing was ever going to happen.

“I think we should head out early tomorrow, I think there’s a potential case a few states over. It’ll be a days drive so lets turn in early.” Dean says as he finishes up. “I call first shower.”

As the bathroom door shuts, Sam starts chucklying. “Shut up!” You whisper to him, shoving him nonchalantly. “Oh come on. I’m shocked he still hasn’t noticed. You’re so obvious.”

You roll your eyes. “No I’m not. But even if I am, he doesn’t care about me like that. Nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Sure.” It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

–

“Dean, please can you just shut the music off for 5 minutes? I’m trying to concentrate.” Sam practically yells over the music that Dean is blasting. “What? I can’t hear you over the music.” You roll your eyes and shake your head at the two of them, going back to your own research on the case.

Sam reaches forward to turn the music down enough so he can be heard, Dean slapping his hand in the process. “By the looks of it, I think its a vampire nest. Not two many killings at once so shouldn’t be a huge nest, no more than 5 or 6.” You nodded, finalising the readings you had occupied yourself with before closing the lore book. You stared out the window, nodding along to the music that filled the otherwise silent Impala.

While you were watching the trees run past, Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He tried to avoid lingering, quickly turning his gaze back to the road in front.

-

In a few short hours, you had arrived to a motel. Dean handed you your bag, whispering a soft “Thank you.” at the gesture, which Dean responded with a small smile.

As you walked in, you noticed that there were only two beds, no pull out couch which was often where you slept. “I am not dealing with your flailing about tonight, Y/N.” Sam says, looking at you with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind the occasional kicking. Sleep next to me.” Dean calls from behind you. Your eyes widen at the realization that you’re going to have to sleep next to Dean. You hadn’t slept in the same bed as him in years, often opting for the sofa or next to Sam.

As you got ready in the bathroom, you took a deep breath as you prepared yourself. “You can do this, it’s one night.” You whispered to yourself, turning to open the door and head to bed. Dean was already in bed, sat up with headphones on, eyes closed and nodding to the beat of whatever music he was listening. You crawled into the other side of the bed, facing away from Dean, closest to the edge. You quickly drifted off to sleep, hoping you didn’t end up kicking or bothering Dean in anyway.

-

You woke up in the same position, however seemingly closer to the middle of the bed. An arm was draped across your waist. Dean.

It suddenly dawned on you that it was his arm around you, holding you in place. You gently picked up his arm, climbed out of bed and placed in onto a pillow, hoping it wouldn’t disturb his sleep.

The door opened and Sam walked through, having just come back from his run.

“Hey.” You smiled in return, collecting your things to get ready for the day. “I figured we can scope out where the nest is this morning, and get ready to attack just after dark.” Sam suggests. “Sounds good.”

Dean starts stirring, rolling over in bed. You rush to the bathroom, hoping to avoid an interaction just yet. You hear them talking as you have your shower, but you ignore them, focusing on the water falling down your body.

-

“So how was last night?” Sam smirked at me. “Shut up.” Dean responds, rubbing his face as he sits up in bed. “I did that for you, you know.”

“What? Have her sleep next to me? She’s not even interested. I don’t see why I have to be tortured with it.” Dean grumbles.

“Bullshit, she’s in love with you.” Dean rolls his eyes, “She snuck out of bed. She couldn’t even stand to talk to me this morning. There is no way on earth she likes me as anything more than a friend. Barely that even.”

“Dean, you do not see what I do.” Sam scoffs. “It’s obvious that you both love each other, why neither of you have made a move? I have no idea.”

Dean just brushes him off, getting up and stretching.

-

After you're dressed, you walk out of the bathroom, which Sam quickly takes custody of as soon as he sees you. “Gonna have a shower now.”

“Morning.” You say softly to Dean, who responds only with a grunt, still waking up. “I’m going to go grab breakfast and coffee, any requests?” You offer.

“Just the usual.” Dean responds. You nod, grabbing a key a walking out the door.

-

Later, after you’ve scoped out the nest and feel ready to attack, the three of you are parked outside the warehouse where they’re located.

“Right, let’s go in and split up, we’ll get them quicker that way. Be safe everyone.” Dean says before heading towards the entrance, you and Sam quickly in tow.

The fight began almost immediately. There were more vampires than you thought, at every turn, a vampire was charging towards you.

You swung the knife every which way you could with all your strength. You could hear Sam and Dean fighting more in other areas of the building.

Finally, it seemed that you had gotten them all. You went to check on Sam and Dean. As you turned a corner, before you could even react properly, another vampire charged at you. He lunged at you, causing you to drop your knife.

You screamed as he threw you against the wall, walking towards you as you lay on the ground.

“I will kill you for what you and your little friends did.” He picked you up and threw you against the wall behind him, hitting your head hard against the concrete floor as you landed. You groaned in pain, unable to fight any more.

“Y/N!” You heard someone yell. The room was spinning and you couldn’t find the strength to stand up. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The vampire had its hand around your throat, fangs out ready to unleash his final attack.

The weight on your body was pulled off, and you could finally breathe, but you couldn’t move. You heard one final scream before silence, and then footsteps hurriedly running towards you.

“Y/N? Shit Y/N can you hear me? It’s ok baby we’re here, we’ve got you.” You groaned in response, before everything went black.

-

“Fuck, she passed out. Sammy, go start the car, quick.” Sam runs out to the car as Dean picks you up and carries you out.

Once in the car, he’s looking all over, trying to find all of your injuries to see if he could fix anything.

At the motel, he lays you down on the bed whilst Sam grabs the first aid kit, cleaning up any wounds that can be fixed.

“Sammy what do we do. She’s not waking up.” Dean has tears in his eyes. Sam puts two fingers on the side of your neck.

“She still has a strong pulse, she’s going to be ok. She’s breathing, just knocked out hard.” Dean’s holding your hand the entire time, refusing to look away from your battered and bruised, yet still unbelievably beautiful face.

“I haven’t told her. I didn’t tell her how I feel. What happens if she doesn’t wake up?”

Sam pats his brothers shoulder, “She’s going to wake up. She will be ok. Both of you will be.”

-

What seemed like days, was really only a few hours later, you started to wake up. You opened your eyes and looked around at your surroundings. You spot Sam laying in his bed, asleep. You look down at your hand, in a tight grip in Dean’s hand. He was asleep too, next to you. He was on top of the covers, still in his blood-soaked clothes and shoes.

As you moved, you groaned, feel sharp pain in your head. “Fuck that kills.”

Dean wakes up startled, feeling movement coming from you. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He whispers. “Like I got hit by a truck, train and car simultaneously.” You respond.

He lets out a small chuckle, thumb running over the back of your hand.

“I know it’s really bad timing but can I talk to you?” He asks. You nod, smiling as encouragement to keep going.

“Um, so the thing is, I, um.” He lets out a breath, now sitting up to look down at you. “I like you, a lot. And it’s ok if you don’t like me back. I thought I could keep it to myself, I thought it was just a stupid thing that would go away. But it hasn’t. And seeing you tonight, all beat up and unconscious. It scared me. I thought I might’ve lost you. And I just needed you to know. You don’t have to do anything. This doesn’t have to change anything, we can stay friends. Or you can leave, it’s up to-“

You place a hand on his cheek, leaning up to press a small peck on his lips. Testing the waters. As you pull away, he follows you, reconnecting your lips. This time, in a much deeper, more passionate kiss. One full of longing, and desperation. You could feel your lungs burn, but couldn’t seem to care, kneading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The one hand not holding his up is resting on your hip.

When you finally pull away for a breath, you stare into his eyes. “I like you too, like a lot.” He sighs. “Really? Are you sure.”

You giggle, “Beyond sure.” You press one final kiss to his lips before settling down, resting your head on his shoulder, arm around his waist while his is wrapped around you, hand on your waist while the other one is playing with the ends of you hair.

-

When you wake up the next morning, you feel warm, content. Taking a deep breath in, you see that you and Dean are in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Thank fuck!” You look to see Sam smiling at the two of you.”It’s about fucking time.” You flip him off, settling back down to lay with Dean some more before you had to get up.

“How are you feeling?” You hear Dean whisper. You look up at him. “I’m ok. Still in pain but it’s better.”

“Good. We’ll let you rest up a bit before getting back out there. I’m glad you’re ok.” He kisses your forehead. “Yeah me too.” You smile up at him.

[cipheramnesia]

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

Part 3: Inveterate Scars

The only sound in the corridors of Genghis Khan was the slow throb of a giant breathing. It was barely audible, always just below the floor or walls, nearly vibration alone at times. Sy thought it sounded a little like the rush of a monorail through a long tunnel, perhaps. Nothing echoed along its walls or wide empty corridors, his own voice barely came back, his running footsteps reduced to thuds. The silence was the same kind he remembered from university libraries, where every word slipped into racks of data cartridges or soft carpet, anywhere it could hide to escape notice.

The bloodstains on GK's floors were browning, but the pool on the bridge was still a darkening, sticky red. It reeked of sour copper, and he hadn't had time to clean. He felt like he'd been walking for hours, screaming at GK to show him medical supplies. He couldn't even remember what he said, what GK said. Most of the emergency kit was empty, discolored spaces where whatever passed for bandages or antibacterial cream had vanished over time, but he clutched several rolls of polyplast-like material and a few metallic tubes that sloshed.

"There is no certainty these materials are safe for Laika's use," GK advised, while Sy staggered his way through the floor switch into her room.

More blood, not as much as the bridge, but enough. Her skin almost seemed to have a blue tinge, terrifyingly pale compared to her usual brown and olive undertones. He dropped what he held and put his hand under her nose. Faint, still breathing. The cactus thorns and torn clothes he'd tried to pull her wound together with seemed to have held enough for the moment. Some of the rags were starting to soak through.

"How do I use these?"

"She appears stable. It may more prudent to avoid the potential aggravation of her injury rather than undertake the risk of incompatible medical procedures."

"She isn't stable, she's bleeding more than breathing. These," Sy waved the rolled sheets, "look like bandages. Are they bandages?"

"..."

"GK if you don't tell me what they are I'm gonna try and figure it out by myself."

"They do not- Your words do not describe them well. They are biologically static shell component. The fluid component will permit structural permeation without deterioration."

"This sounds a lot like a bandage."

"Her- Laika does not share a compatible structure with a Pilot. It may prove beneficial to her injury, or it may eject her soul from this shell, may it find a stronger shell one day."

"Well I think that's going to happen anyway if we don't try something."

"I am also attempting to locate assistance."

"What do you- Nevermind. Show me how to use the thingy."

"Biologically static shell component. You will need to activate it with biologic matter to prime the component to the recipient structure."

Sy stuck his hand in Laika's blood and smeared the bandage. "Please don't die yet," he said. "You can't leave me alone with GK." He took a deep breath and began to unwind the bandages.

In the ever expanding void of space, and interlace of structure and system, Genghis Khan reached in its own way for help, hungry and waiting.