#sorry for writing a novel in the tags every time

[echo-loves-flowerboy]

Part 2 of Echo‘s biased god portraits

In Greek mythology, the Keres, singular Ker,were female death-spirits. They personified violent death and were drawn to bloody deaths on battlefields. Although they were present during death and dying, they did not have the power to kill. The Keres were daughters of Nyx, and as such the sisters of Thanatos, the god of peaceful death. Some later authorities, such as Cicero, called them by a Latin name, Tenebrae ("the Darknesses"). 

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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[unreliablesnake]

You're reading what? (Ghost x reader x 141)

Summary: Soap finds out you're reading porn in your free time. Ghost decides to ask you about it.

Note: Barracks bunny, barracks bunny, barracks bunny! Sorry, reader's a slut. (affectionate) / I'll probably write more parts, maybe smut, maybe suggestive stuff, maybe fluff... I don't know yet. Check the #barracks bunny fics tag for more. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

It was Soap who found out what you were reading in your limited free time during missions. You left your Kindle on the table while you went to the bathroom, and he wanted to see what book you were so invested in lately. When he read the first two paragraphs, his jaw dropped and a wide grin crept on his face.

"Hey, LT, you won't believe what she's reading," he said while he checked the title of the book just to know what to check later.

Ghost rolled his eyes, completely uninterested at the moment. He was busy writing a report that was due by the end of the day, and he had promised Price that he would do it on time. So he didn't have time to think about what stupid novel you were currently reading.

But Soap didn't give up. He put the device back where it was before, then took the chair next to the lieutenant. "It's porn. I'm not joking, she's reading porn," he said excitedly, keeping his voice down as he spoke.

With mixture of disapproval and interest in his eyes, he turned to the sergeant and asked, "And?"

"What do you mean? She's reading porn. No wonder she dodges every question regarding the books she's reading all the time," he replied before he typed something into his phone. "Here, this is the one she's currently reading."

Ghost took the device from him and tapped on the first search result. He read the summary, then moved on to some quotes the users highlighted. It was interesting to say the least. Were you really into this type of stuff?

When they heard your voice from the hallway, Soap took back his phone and closed the browser before you entered the room again. To you it probably seemed like they were talking about the mission and the report Ghost was writing, and this is why the lieutenant felt a little bad for this invasion of your privacy.

After being on this mission for so long, he was obviously frustrated. He couldn't just go to a bar to pick up someone, and his hand was less and less satisfying these days. His mind recently began to travel back to you and your book, and one afternoon, when he had some unexpected free time, he found himself buying and downloading that novel on his phone.

He got quite far in a matter of hours, and he couldn't help himself when he found you alone in a room after dinner. Ghost sat down across from you and took the Kindle from your hands to take a look at it. "Still reading porn?" he asked teasingly.

You gulped, your cheeks probably burning from the embarrassment you clearly felt. "H–How do you know about that?" you asked him after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Soap stole this the other day," he replied as he gave back the device. "Don't worry, I think I'm the only one he told about this. Your secret's safe with me."

"I don't even want to know what you think about me now," you said with your head buried in your hands.

Ghost let out a dry laugh as he peeled your hands off your face. "Hey, it's okay. We spend way too much time here, I think it's safe to say we all need our fix one way or another," he assured you while holding your hand, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles into your skin.

Maybe he was flirting with you. The more he thought about you and what he had read in that novel, the more he wished he could do that in real life with you. He had always liked you; the disciplined, tough, but also kind soldier that got along with everyone on the team.

And the one Price played favorites with, he reminded himself. They all had their suspicions about the captain's motivation, believing he himself had a crush on you from the start. After all, why else would he bring you small gifts every time you met again? Why would he spend hours talking to you alone?

Sometimes Ghost wondered if there was anything between the two of you. Were you off-limits? Or was it a one-sided thing?

"And what do you do to get your fix?"

Your question brought him back to reality and he instinctively let go of your hand. He couldn't say that he jerked off to the thought of you. No, that would be way too creepy. So he shrugged, hoping this was enough to answer your question.

After a short pause, Ghost folded his hands on the table and leaned a little closer to you. "Have you ever tried anything that you read in your little books?" he asked you with a grin under the mask.

With your head tilted to the side, you watched him in silence for a while as you thought about your answer. "Do you even know what's in them exactly?"

"I began to read one of them. The one that reminded me of the Fifty Shades of Grey stories, only in a hardcore version," he replied casually.

An amused hum left your lips. "How do you even know what those stories are about? You don't seem to be the type who's into them."

Of course, Ghost had an answer to that. "I had an ex who made me watch the whole series. I didn't like it. Back to my question, have you tried anything from that book for example?"

"I have," you replied immediately, shamelessly grinning as you watched him.

It was hard to surprise Ghost these days, but hearing you answering so honestly definitely took him off guard. "The whole power play thing?" You nodded without hesitation as you took a sip of your soda. "With who?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, it doesn't," he admitted, knowing full well he probably wouldn't know that person anyway.

The pair of you sat there in silence for a while, your eyes locking every now and then before you flashed a smile at him then dived back into your book. He didn't mind, instead of complaining he just leaned back in the chair and watched you.

Ghost hated feeling this way, he hated that he could do nothing but wish for a cold shower in your presence. If he stood up now, you would surely notice how excited he was to be near you. He wanted to play with you too, he wanted to find out what you had learned from those books of yours.

Gaz walked into the room with a stupid smile on his face then put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned closer. "Price wants to see you," he announced before suddenly taking the ebook reader from you and taking a look at the page you were at. "Ooooh, another one? Do you even read anything else?"

Biting on your lower lip, you exhaled through your nose angrily. "I'm gonna kill Soap. I swear to God I'm gonna shoot him before we go home," you told them before snatching your Kindle from Gaz's hands and heading towards the door.

But on the way there you stopped behind Ghost and leaned down to his ear. He could feel your hot breath on his skin which made his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck, what were you doing to him?

"By the way, if you want to know more about what I want to try from those books, just say it. I'm sure we could arrange that," you added as your hand squeezed his shoulder.

Before he could say anything, you left the room, leaving him alone with Gaz. "Oh, you haven't figured it out yet," the sergeant said with a laugh.

"Figured out what?" Ghost asked, completely dumbfounded.

But Gaz only shrugged. "She's fun to be around. That's all I'm saying."

And with that, he left too. The lieutenant had absolutely no idea what to think. There were you, probably suggesting sleeping with him one day, and there was Gaz with his mysterious comment about you. As he let out a groan, he let his forehead hit the table with a loud thud. Why couldn't things be simple?

[brickmvster]

please don't go (i'll eat you whole) | Leon Kennedy x Reader

synopsis: You make love to Leon before he leaves you.

word count: 1,906

warnings/tags: leon kennedy x fem reader, established relationship, smut with feelings, angst, pre-spain or just pre-mission in general, some light fluff if you squint kinda (i'm sorry), p in v sex/penetrative sex, unprotected sex, aftercare

author's note: i'm gonna be honest. i am a little nervous. more so than usual bc this is my first time writing for leon! i love him so much, he's definitely one of my comfort characters, and i wanted to write something angsty but also kinda bittersweet like this for a loooong time and i finally got around to it. i really hope you guys enjoy, comments are always appreciated <3 this has been proofread more than once, but just in case, any and all mistakes are mine! also, just fyi, i wrote this with re4r leon in mind, but you can imagine whichever leon floats your boat if you really want to lol.

p.s. it's not written in here but pls pee after sex 😭

minors do not interact, please and thank you!

You clung to him for dear life; as if he was going to disappear in front of your very eyes.

You were above him, peering down into his deep eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together in pleasure and his lips, which were currently rosy and swollen after the frequent kisses you had given them, were ever so slightly parted as soft groans emerged from his throat. His large hands never stayed still for longer than a minute – he gripped your waist before sliding them down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh before moving them up toward your breasts, squeezing gently, before bringing them back to your waist, where he helped with guiding your languid movements. You moved your hips like an expert, riding him as if you’d never have the chance to again.

With the rain pattering against the window and a sliver of moonlight filtering through the room, it was almost like a scene from an erotic novel. The room carried the scent of sweat and sex and was filled with the noises that spilled from your lips non-stop. You didn’t even know how much time had passed – but you knew it was late. You knew Leon had to be up in the morning. But you wanted to prolong this moment with him for as long as possible. Leon wanted to as well, as every time he got you close to your peak, he slowed down, dragging out your orgasm in a way that was almost painful, but you enjoyed every second of it.

You were growing tired, your legs beginning to shake as your rhythm became a bit off-kilter.

“Leon…” You moaned, his name coming out so softly it almost wasn’t audible. But Leon, ever so attentive, heard you loud and clear, and he knew what you were trying to tell him.

He flipped you over with ease, while he was still inside of you, spreading your legs further apart and starting up a steady pace. All you could do was grip the bed sheets, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he drilled into that spot that made you see stars. He wasn’t aggressive or rough, but his thrusts were certainly hard-hitting and relentless, and you knew you only had a few minutes.

At some point, you closed your eyes as you tried to focus on your impending orgasm, feeling as if you were in a complete haze – but Leon’s voice pierced through your foggy mind.

“Please look at me.” He said, his low voice sounding a bit strained and even a little desperate; who were you to deny him of what he wanted?

It took a momentous amount of effort, but eventually you were able to open your eyes and keep them open, looking up at him. Leon lowered himself a little, allowing you to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. The slightly different position made his thrusts feel even deeper, and you cried out into his neck, your fingers going into his shaggy blonde hair.

“Keep looking at me. Please.” He said softly, and so you did, maintaining eye contact with him the best you could as he continued to piston his hips into you. Suddenly, Leon was becoming blurry; you could feel the wetness on your face as tears began to fall. Leon often made you cry during sex – he was a fucking god in bed after all and usually made you feel so good that he’d leave you sobbing from the intense pleasure after multiple orgasms. And while that was definitely the reason you were crying now, you also knew that there was an underlying reason for your tears. Leon knew the other reason, too.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He asked you sweetly, still keeping up his quick pace. All you could do was nod fervently, digging your nails into his back. He always loved when you did that.

“Yeah? My sweetheart is gonna cum for me?” He urged, and the pet name that rolled off of his tongue only made matters worse.

“Fuck, Leon–please, give it to me.” You said, your voice trembling. You felt all of the telltale signs. There was a tight coil forming in your lower stomach, ready to pop like a balloon. Leon could sense this, could hear it in your voice and could feel it in the way your pussy was squeezing around his cock. He raised himself just a bit, lowering his hand down between your legs, using his thumb to rub your clit in circular motions while he continued thrusting.

Leon’s name emerged from your throat so loudly that you even drowned out the rain. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back rising off the bed in a beautiful arch, your climax hitting you in waves. You felt like you were in heaven, the tears falling even more freely from your eyes now. Leon just ogled at you like you were a work of art. In his mind, you were.

He was also close, and mere seconds after your orgasm his own came crashing down on him too. With a few more sloppy thrusts he found himself stilling inside of you, his release filling you to the brim. The feeling of being so full of him was one that you would never grow tired of.

Eventually, you came down from your peak, your limbs feeling like heavyweights. All you could do was lay there and cry some more, letting every single emotion overtake you completely, your sobs shaking your entire body. Leon was comforting you in an instant, pulling out gently and lying next to you, allowing you to bury your head into his chest. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, with Leon cradling your head and rubbing your back.

You did calm down after some time passed, and that’s when Leon tried to get up, but you clung to him again.

“Please don’t go.” You said, your voice small and hoarse. “Don’t go, Leon, please.”

“I just wanna clean you up, okay?” Leon replied, wiping away the wetness on your cheeks. You didn’t even care that his cum was leaking out of you and making your thighs a mess – you just wanted him to stay by your side. But you knew he was just trying to take care of you, so you reluctantly released him.

Leon kissed your cheek before getting off the bed and going to the bathroom. While you waited for him, you tried to keep your eyes open. You didn’t want to sleep, because falling asleep meant that morning would come quicker, and truthfully you didn’t want the morning to come at all. You knew it would be coming no matter what, though – but goddamn it, you tried to prolong it the best you could, even when your eyelids were growing heavier by the second.

Leon came back, now clothed in his boxers (that you didn’t even notice he had thrown back on), a small washcloth in hand, and a glass of water that he set on the bedside table. He pushed your legs apart yet again and wiped you clean, touching you so gently as if you were some kind of porcelain doll. It only made your heart grow fonder. You were going to miss these moments of tenderness.

He made you sit up, just enough so you could drink the water that he had prepared for you. You took a small sip, to which Leon encouraged you to “drink a bit more, sweetheart,” so you did, and when he was pleased, the glass returned to its spot on the bedside table, and shortly after he was crawling underneath the comforter with you.

The warmth of the comforter and Leon’s body next to yours made it even more difficult for you to stay awake. Leon saw you struggling, catching the way you would doze off and then immediately wake yourself back up.

“Please, rest.” He muttered into your hair. You hugged him tighter.

“Do you have to go?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Was all Leon could say in response.

You felt a lonely tear roll down your cheek yet again. But you were far too exhausted to cry some more. Instead, you sat up, looking at Leon intently. He returned your direct eye contact, sitting up himself to lean against the headboard and match your height.

“Promise me,” You started, holding out your hand. Without hesitation, Leon held it, locking your fingers together and giving your hand a slight squeeze.

“Promise me you’ll come back home.” You asked him, like you always did before he left for a mission. Every single time, he would give you the same answer.

“I promise.” He replied firmly. You knew deep down that asking Leon to make promises like this was unrealistic. He never fully understood what he was getting himself into until he arrived at the mission location – and you knew that despite his skills as a trained government agent, accidents always happened, and there was no way to know when things would go awry when he’s out in the middle of nowhere. But hearing him utter those two words before he left eased your worries just enough.

Trusting Leon was always easy.

“I love you.” You said softly, fitting back into Leon’s side perfectly, like you belonged there.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Leon replied, before tilting your chin up with two gentle fingers and kissing you with a fiery passion. You two lazily kissed each other until sleep started pulling you into its dark embrace. You didn��t fight it this time, resting your head on Leon’s chest and drifting away to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The next morning, the two of you shared one last breakfast. You mostly sat in comfortable silence. You asked a couple questions about the mission, but didn’t get straight answers – it was confidential. You knew that already but always liked to ask questions anyway.

Right as Leon was about to walk out of your door, you stopped him. You took a few moments just to stare at him – he was as handsome as the day you fell in love with him.

You brushed some hair out of his face, kissing him slowly, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours for these last few minutes. When you pulled away, you were sporting a warm smile, feeling your eyes sting as tears threatened to spill. You kept them at bay.

“Don’t you dare–” You paused, your trembling lips making it difficult to speak. When you collected yourself, breathing in and out, you continued.

“Don’t you dare ruin this jacket. I love it on you.” You said, referring to the brown leather jacket that Leon had bought himself recently and was currently wearing. He had a tendency to ruin clothing items on his missions, and you hoped this one would survive.

Leon chuckled. The sound immediately filled you with warmth. You were going to miss that sound; God knows how long you’d have to go without hearing it everyday.

“Copy that.” Leon replied, a laugh bubbling out of your throat.

You shared one more embrace. The final hug was one the both of had trouble ending. But it had to come to an end eventually.

And then, Leon was gone. All that was left was a memory.

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[weirdsht]

Cliché - LoTCF & Venion Stan! Reader

notes: ngl i took more time dwelling whether i should make this a series. but i never did two series at once because i can't handle the commitment, so i compromised by making it a long oneshot. ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: I put my psych major to work while writing this fic so...

tags: TRIGGER WARNING PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE TAGS (dw nothing too graphic for every warning) depression, eating disorder, anxiety, self-loathing, torture and abuse, guilt, like lots of guilt, passive to mild suicidal thoughts, not being able to control your body, catatonic depression, anhedonia, blood, cursing, vague novel spoilers, Taylor Stan being the best brother out there, open ending i think, can be seen as hurt/comfort

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Navigation Masterlist Platitude (pt. 2)

Tak Tak Tak

The sound of the horses of the carriage filled your ears as soon as you woke up.

…Wait horses?

How could there be horses when you were sure you were inside a lecture hall?

“Young master I’m glad you’re awake. We are nearing Viscount Tolz’s territory.”

Viscount Tolz? That sounds familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it as you just woke up.

You observed the unfamiliar place you woke up in. You seem to be inside a carriage, years of reading manhwas, manhuas, mangas and web novels have gotten you familiar as to what they looked like. 

Observing the interior a bit more, you notice that the carriage you are in seems luxurious. That and the servant riding a horse outside the carriage window just called you “young master”. 

‘Did I transmigrate? I swear I was just nodding off during one of my lectures…’

“You. What date is it? My head feels fuzzy from sleeping in this uncomfortable carriage.”

‘I’ve rotten my brain reading that damn isekai genre. I already know the drill, I should be a villain or something. I guess I should be glad I didn’t end up as an animal, those things have gotten popular these days…’

You silently shivered at the thought of being a bird or a snake.

“I’m sorry about the seat young master. You’re custom cushion should be arriving tomorrow. As for the date, it is currently year 780 of the Felix Calendar.”

Shit

By the calendar mentioned you could already tell what series you transmigrated to. There was only one series you know that uses Felix Calendar.

Lout of the Count’s Family

And it looks like you got sucked into that novel a year before things began.

“As soon as that arrives install it in my carriage. This thing is as hard as a brick.”

Contrary to what you say, the seat is very soft and comfortable. However, if you really did transmigrate as a villain like in all those manhwas you’ve read then you figured you have to act as bratty as possible. 

“I understand young master. We are nearing the villa soon, I’m sure young master Neo has prepared your room so you can rest.”

Fuck. You’re fucked.

Out of all the small villains in existence you just had to steal the body of a dragon abuser. You just had to get in the body of Venion Stan.

Venion out of all people. Even Neo Tolz or Adin or Duke Fredo would’ve been better picks.

But no, the gods of this world just had to put you in the body of an atrocious villain that has no use.

Never mind running away in the countryside while enjoying all the inheritance, there’s no way that black dragon is going to leave you alone.

…And for sure the black dragon is already 3 years old, there’s no saving you now. Anger and despair are already planted in that poor baby’s heart.

Everything moved too quickly to your liking. One moment you were in the carriage, then next Neo was greeting you. After you blinked you’re already in the black dragon’s cell.

‘Can I survive a year before Cale comes here to get the dragon?’

The black dragon can’t use mana, let alone dragon fear. But his vicious gaze full of animosity is already enough to make you feel guilt and fear.

He looked so pitiful. The cell might be spacious, but a cage will still be a cage. He was just there, in the middle of the cell. Chained and unable to fight back.

The buffet in the middle doesn’t help the queasiness you feel in your stomach.

“Do-”

‘Don’t bother with it, I won't be visiting the dragon further.’

The words you want to say are stuck in your throat. Some unknown force is stopping you from uttering them out.

You figured it was so that things would still go according to the plot.

‘I know I wasn’t the greatest in my previous life, but was I so bad that I must experience this?’

Tap Tap Tap

Heels of your shoes tapped against the ground as you walked towards the table. You tried to stop your body, but it was useless. No matter how hard you try to stop yourself you just keep moving.

“Start.”

Your voice- no Venion’s voice said and the torturer started whipping the dragon.

Gulp

There’s a bile in your throat threatening to show itself. However, you swallowed it. The scene may look horrendous, but you didn’t look away. You didn’t stop eating the feast in front of you. You didn’t stop laughing at the small dragon’s demise.

More like you couldn’t.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to go back to your world and curl up in your bed. You wanted all of this to be a dream.

‘Is this the doing of the gods? If so then why must they be cruel.’

“Is there anything else you want to do young master?”

“No just go out. All of you. I will follow in a short while”

Following your order, everyone in the dungeon started heading out. After a few seconds, there was no one but you and the dragon in the room.

Bleurgh!

As soon as there was no one else in the room you vomited. Good thing there was a bathroom attached in the dungeon. The bathroom door was wide open as you puked your gut out, showing the black dragon a view of your pale face. Despite that you didn’t care, your only focus was to get rid of the horrible feeling running through your body.

It’s not as if the dragon would care about its torturer.

That night you spent the entire time in your bed tossing and turning. Too tired to sleep but too scared to face the nightmares you have to combat every time you do.

“Go find a magician or something and commission a temperature-regulating device. I want it installed at the cave before we visit the Tolz territory again.”

“As you wish your highness. However, aren’t you spending a bit too much on a mere pet?”

“You dare think I’m buying all these things for that pesky dragon? I’m buying it for my own comfort, you should be aware of how I want to be comfortable all the time.”

“It seems I made a mistake. I shall prepare everything you desire for the next time you visit the villa.”

Six months has already passed since you became Venion Stan. Adjusting wasn’t easy, especially when there are more times when you can’t control your body than when you can.

But still, you persevered.

It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway. You have already taken over this body so you have to live in it. That and there’s also the fact that you want the original plot to go smoothly.

You want the black dragon to experience justice.

So you persist. Even when the atrocities you did make you puke. Even when you want to kill yourself.

You didn’t

It wasn’t right.

You may not be the original Venion Stan, but it wouldn’t be right to take away the revenge the black dragon deserves. That was why you decided to persevere.

Persevere now and suffer at the dragon's hands later before finally dying.

That was your plan.

You didn’t care about other things anymore. Money, territory, power; none of those things mattered to you anymore. Too disgusted with yourself and everything you have been doing to even attempt to enjoy those things.

However

There’s a silver lining in all of this.

After a month of being in your new body, you have found a loophole. You found a way to combat some of the restrictions to your actions. As long as you sound selfish and villainous enough, you can get away with saying and doing most things.

Using this knowledge to your advantage, you slowly made life for the dragon easier. You bought a lot of things such as cushions, a more comfortable collar, and the temperature-regulating device you just ordered. You also used this fact to lessen your hold on both Taylor Stan and the underworld.

“Venion, I heard you withdrew the people watching over your older brother.”

You scowled at Marquis Stan’s words as if the mere mention of Taylor Stan upsets you.

“Father, what can that cripple do? He has no legs, no power, and barely has any money. Putting people to watch over someone like that will only be a waste of resources.”

Luckily, the marquis agreed with your reasoning and let the situation go while praising how smart you are.

‘Hopefully by this Taylor Stan can gather more information now that my people are now hovering over him.’

That night you managed to sleep for approximately 30 minutes. The longest sleep you’ve experienced since coming over to this world.

Bleurgh!!

It was another torture session and once again you were vomiting everything you ate that week after the session. 

While you were busy trying to not make a mess on the bathroom floor, you didn’t notice a certain young dragon observing you.

He may be three years old and he may not know much but his still smart because he's a dragon. That was why he noticed the changes in his captor that started around 8 months ago. 

The young dragon noticed the hesitation in your eyes whenever you entered the dungeon. How you were puking from self-hatred and not because of how bad the food was like you said. How your laugh is soulless, especially when he’s being tortured. 

How you stagger the slightest bit while standing up after those sessions. How your hands shook ever so slightly from guilt. How you tried to make the cell as comfortable as possible for him despite saying you were doing it for your own comfort. 

How your eyes look more lifeless each time he sees you.

The young dragon noticed all of it. He may not know what caused the change, but he knows that everything you’re doing is against your volition.

“Fuck I lost my appetite already. I’m going back to my room. Feed those scraps to that dragon.”

You ordered your servants on your way out. Walking as if your entire body wasn’t shaking ten seconds ago.

The black dragon just watches you with observant eyes. 

The “scraps” you were talking about were the feast that was barely even touched. It had always been like this for a few months now. You would barely touch your food and give it to the dragon in the guise of treating him like a dog.

For now, the young one accepts the food. He’ll figure out your intentions later.

“Lessen the guards at the dungeon. Remove all the cushions too, I’m going to change them. Do the same thing to the dragon’s collar too. While you’re at it increase the guards stationed at my quarters. Put the guards in the cave to my room.”

It’s the fated day. Time passed and now is already the day the black dragon will be rescued by Cale, Choi Han, and the cat tribe children. You already met them earlier and acted as arrogant as you could.

Hence the preparation. You need to make it look like the dragon was kept in a horrible condition. Of course, he was… but like much more worse conditions.

“Assassins have been increasing their attempts lately. If I see someone assigned to my room not doing your jobs I’m going to feed you to the sharks. Oh, and you.”

You pointed at a random servant passing by.

“Here’s some gold, buy some alcohol from the inn. Don’t tell anyone I was the one who bought it.”

“May I ask what you’re going to do with the alcohol young master?”

Everyone knows that Venion Stan deemed things not noble enough as disgusting. But you felt guilty for pushing that old man around earlier so you made an excuse.

“Depends on my mood. I’m feeling generous so if you all guard my room tonight then I’ll give you the alcohol tomorrow to drink.”

Everyone held in their shock.

“But if you don’t then I’m going to throw each bottle in your heads while drinking real wine.”

With that, you turned around to lie down on your bed.

That night was the same as every other night you spent in this world. Sleepless. However, that night you felt some weight being lifted off your shoulders as you heard the ruckus Choi Han was causing outside.

‘He should be curled up in Cale’s lap while looking at me viciously’

You stealthily peeked at Cale as you walked towards your seat. Just a moment ago he was trying to rile you up by acting obnoxious. It was hard to try and act like you were keeping your composure when you agreed with everything he said.

“What the..!” 

‘Shit did I not put enough strength into my acting?’

You barely felt your blonde hair sway as you slapped the table in supposed shock at Taylor Stan’s entrance.

‘Maybe I should’ve forced myself to eat a little bit more before coming here…’

Gritting your teeth, you ignore the black spots dancing in your vision. Today is a vital day, you can’t ruin the script by fainting because you only ate 3 spoonfuls during breakfast.

Luckily, it looks like everything is going according to the plot. Based on everyone’s reaction, you looked like an enraged noble.

Days following that event were even more chaotic. Not only was the terrorist attack in the plaza terrifying but trying to act as if you were trying to hold on to your position when you just wanted to give it to Taylor was even tougher.

As usual, you persevered.

Comforted yourself at the thought that in a few months, you can embrace death’s sweet presence.

“Do I look different without the blood?”

You felt scared and relieved at the sight of the black dragon that now goes by Raon Miru.

Scared because even though you have resigned yourself to your fate, and felt like you deserve it even, you still feel fear for what’s about to come.

Relief because he looks healthy. Chubby even. You were glad that he was living a good life after he got away from you.

Disregarding your feelings, you let the poisonous fog into your body. Resigning yourself to the four days of hell waiting.

Ugh…

Your body feels sluggish when you wake up.

“What the… It hasn’t even begun yet why does that bastard’s eyes already look dead?”

“That’s what I was telling you human! That punk's eyes tell a different story from his actions.”

Soft. Whatever you were lying down on felt soft. It wasn’t like what you’ve read in the novel where Venion was lying down on the hard ground. The magic collar was also soft. It felt similar to the one you bought for Raon a year ago. 

You would know because you made sure to pick the softest one yourself.

“His eyes look more dead than when I last saw him at that cave.”

Eyes? Were they talking about yours?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care.

You just want everything to end.

Gasp!

Someone gasped, you think it was one of the kittens.

“T-tears! Why is he crying? I only put paralysis in poison earlier.”

Crying? You were crying?

You sit up. It was hard because of the chains tying your arms but you still did it.

As you look down on your lap, tears are indeed flowing.

‘Why am I crying? Wasn’t I waiting for this day?’

Everything was already planned in your head. You get tortured then you will go crazy. Then you will kill yourself and make everyone believe you did it because you’re crazy.

So why are you crying now?

Why are you in tears as if you don’t deserve what’s happening to you?

Why do you weep as though you haven’t committed several crimes this past year?

How dare you do so.

How dare you act so pitifully when the child you tortured is right in front of you?

Shameless. Till the end, you’re so shameless.

Click! 

Thunk!

Beacrox unlocked the magic collar. As he did you saw it falling on the ground.

“Ah, so there really was fur inside…”

Your voice sounded soulless. It sounded so dead that even you were shocked at how you sounded.

But it also felt cathartic.

After two years of trying to act lively. Two years of acting as if you were fighting for something.

You can finally let out your real emotions.

Two years. It took more than two years for you to be granted that privilege. 

“Speak. I heard you bought the same thing for Raon.”

“You really named him Raon…”

Beacrox grabbed your collar. He looked furious. If you remember things correctly, he just heard about the dragon’s story a while ago so you understand his feelings.

“He told you to answer. Why did you buy something like that after 3 years?”

“I was getting tired of looking at the hard metal… There was nothing in that cave but stone and metal…”

Your tears are still flowing. It looks like they were crying a whole year’s worth. 

Despite that, you were not shaking, nor were your eyes looked sad.

Contrarily, you looked like those creepy dolls with soulless eyes that cried in horror films.

That low-key scared everyone in the room.

“Before, when I was three, I saw you shaking every time you came to the cave. Why was that?”

What’s happening? Why is there a sudden interrogation? You signed up for torture not for a cross-examination.

Still, you answered the dragon.

“I can’t tell.”

“Is it related to how you can’t seem to say what you want at times?”

Just how much did that kid notice in the few times you visited him?

“Yes. When are you going to get started? I need to meet with my hyung after this…”

Meet him and then die.

So please hurry up already.

“Hey punk, you sound like you already know what’s going to happen.”

“It’s obvious. This place looks exactly like that damn cave.”

You were getting tired of talking.

Actually, you were tired. Period.

“But it doesn’t look like how I left the cave when you rescued him.”

“Yes, because that wasn’t how the cave I lived in looked like. It looked like this.”

And the “this” Raon was talking about felt more homey. There were soft lights and a bunch of pillows and cushions. There were even some stuffed toys and blankets.

Was this how you decorated Raon’s cave?

You can’t remember.

Not that you care.

“Can we get started already please?”

“I thought you were a sadist, not a masochist.”

Something snapped inside you at that moment. You didn’t know why it was Choi Han’s comment that riled you up. Maybe it wasn’t the comment but the waiting that set you off.

“Just do it already! Are you dumb?! This fucking plot will not move unless you fucking torture me!”

In that moment you felt a searing pain in your chest.

“Argh!”

Blood flowed out from your mouth.

‘So that’s what happens when I try to push the restrictions.’

Coughing out blood when you’re body was already weak from not eating and sleeping enough was bound to cause you to faint.

And faint you did.

“Young master Cale said you were unconscious for 4 days. The doctor told me you were both malnourished and fatigued. One of your servants confessed that it’s an achievement if you eat 4 spoonfuls every meal. The young master also mentioned how it seems like you were forced to do everything you’ve done… Just what is happening? Hmm? Tell this hyung of yours.”

“Hyung…”

In the end, you didn’t get tortured…

“What’s going to happen now? What’s going to happen to me?”

You diverged from the fate carved out for Venion Stan.

That made you scared.

The restriction placed upon you to prevent you from straying from the plot scared you.

“Everything will be okay. But you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Taylor Stan hugged you, and you felt disgusted with yourself that you dare find warmth and comfort in that hug. Disgusted that you dared cry in front of him when you tried to kill him in the past.

But you couldn’t help it.

You couldn’t help that your hyung was soft and caring even though he was stern and strict. 

“I’m scared hyung. I’m a horrible person.”

As you speak you notice Cale in the corner of the room. He was trying to go out to give you two some privacy.

“Please stay.”

‘You deserve to hear the truth too.’

Cale stopped moving at your words. 

At that moment you decided to spill everything. Venion Stan’s role was already done. Even if it wasn’t, you already strayed from the path written for him. So you’re pulling all stops now.

“I’m a horrible person that did horrid crimes. I know that, I did them with my own hands after all. But I didn’t want to do them.”

You felt that stinging pain slowly coming back.

“There are times when I can’t control the things I say or do. No matter how hard I try my body won’t listen to me.”

The taste of blood in your mouth is back. You tried to act as calm as possible and nonchalantly spit it out in a napkin as if you were just wiping your mouth.

“I think it’s the god’s doing. It’s fated that I must be a bad guy for everything in the future to work out.”

You wiped your mouth again.

“I couldn’t resist it. But I found a loophole.”

Wipe

“If I make it look like what I was doing is villainous then my movements will not be restricted as much.”

“So when you removed the people watching over my residence..?”

You nodded while wiping your mouth once again.

However, this time Taylor snatched the napkin out of your hands.

“You’re bleeding..!”

“Ah…”

You were wiping so much blood that it already seeped out. Causing for Taylor and Cale to see the blood.

“I should’ve used a darker colour…”

“Stop talking. I’ve already heard everything I need to know.”

“I have nothing else to say to you anyway.”

The two men started walking out of the door when you called out to someone.

“Young master Cale, can you please stay? I must tell you something.”

The marquis and the young master exchanged a glance before one of them left the room.

“What is it?”

At Taylor’s exit, Raon undid his invisibility.

“It’s not fate.”

Cale and Raon looked at you as if you’d lost your head. Honestly, you wish you did. Being beheaded right now is better than living with these horrible feelings.

“It’s plot. You should know what I’m talking about.”

Luckily, Marquiss Stan left the napkin so you could wipe your mouth again.

“I think the universe, not the gods, made a mistake with me. But despite their mistake, they are insistent on going with the plot laid out.”

You discarded the napkin. It’s already drenched with too much of your blood that it can’t be used anymore.

“But don’t worry. This plot is very beneficial to you. You just have to follow whatever you think is right. You can disregard whatever anyone says. Even if that anyone is a god.”

‘Unlike me’

Cale handed you a handkerchief and you wiped your mouth with it.

“Lastly, I’m sorry Raon Miru-nim. My only choice was to either keep torturing you or throw you out. I couldn’t throw you out, because if I did then you wouldn’t meet the young master.”

“It’s okay… I am great and mighty so I figured out long ago that you were being forced.”

“Thank you.”

With that the dragon became invisible again and the two head out of the room.

Cleanup was easy. Of course, it was. Everything was already planned out beforehand.

The previous marquis was arrested and his people were successfully rooted out. You got sentenced to house arrest.

Meaning, you got a slap on the wrist.

It confused you. Why did you get such a light sentence when you did so many horrible things? It didn’t even feel like house arrest because your hyung always kept you by his side and personally took care of you.

“How about you? How are you and your brother doing?”

You heard Cale speaking on the other side of the communication device. But you just kept your head low and stared at your palms, unmoving.

“That…”

Marquis Stan hesitated.

“His been listless since that day. I checked with an expert and they said his in a catatonic state.”

You blur out the rest of their conversation. It wasn’t like there was a need to listen anyway. There’s nothing for you to do now. Your role is done but you can’t die.

You're tired.

So so fucking tired.

Tired of waking up. Tired of moving. Tired of thinking. Tired of breathing.

Tired of living.

So you opted to not move. Tune out the world around you. Maybe if you’re lucky they’ll leave you to rot in that lavish room of yours.

“Your eyes look more lively today. Do you have enough energy to speak?”

You blinked once. Then twice. You don’t know how many days have passed already. All of them look like a giant blur in your mind.

For the first time in a while, you moved your body to look at your surroundings.

As you take in your surroundings you notice that there’s a storm outside. That and Taylor Stan seem to have put you in the wheelchair he used to use.

“Taylor Stan…”

“Call me hyung.”

Did you deserve to? Well, it doesn’t matter since he ordered you to.

“Hyung”

“Yes, my dongsaeng?”

“Why won’t you kill me?”

The wheelchair stopped in its tracks. It was because the one pushing it stopped walking.

“Why would I kill you?”

“Why would you not kill me?”

You had no way of knowing just how scared Taylor was at this moment. Your voice sounded so soulless. As if you were asking about the weather and not about your death. He was already scared that one day he would just wake up to find you dead. Your questions and your way of asking them are not helping his fear.

“I told you, I wouldn’t kill my family.”

“Ah…”

Silence lingered as the two of you went to your room. Inside, the first thing you noticed was the door on the wall.

“That’s a connecting door. It’s connected to my room.”

“Very fitting for a criminal like me that needs to be monitored at all times.”

“That’s not…”

Taylor Stan chose to sigh instead of answering. After he did, he called the servants to help you with your nighttime routine.

“You all can go now, I’ll take it from here.”

Servants filed out of your room as your brother took the brush from a servant's hand.

“You know that this is useless right?”

“Why is that?”

Taylor continued brushing your blonde hair that now reaches past your shoulders.

“It’s not like I’ll sleep. There’s never a night where I slept for more than 30 minutes. I think.”

“Maybe if I stay by your side you’ll sleep better.”

You didn’t respond. You just watched in the mirror how your hyung gently brushed your hair. At some point, you pulled your legs up to your chest and started hugging them.

Taylor Stan didn’t seem to mind your movements. In fact, he seems to encourage them.

“Let’s eat dinner now. Do you want to walk?”

“No.”

The mere thought of moving more than you already did makes you feel nauseated.

Your hyung nodded and started pushing the wheelchair again. As he did the sight of the food prepared on your table caught your eyes. It wasn’t a feast like how you were served in the past.

Instead, there were just two simple identical meals on the table.

It reminded you of how you used to eat your meals back on earth.

“You’re eating too?”

“I haven’t eaten yet. I figure we can eat together since Cage is not here.”

She must be in the super rock’s villa or something.

Eat together was what you did. Well, more like Taylor ate while you take a few bites and play with your food.

“Do you not want to eat anymore?”

“No.”

“It’s fine, just leave it there. You already ate thrice more than you usually would. It’s okay to take it slow.”

That’s true. You ate 10 spoonfuls today when you would usually just take a bite or two. Three at most.

Maybe a gentle company and a simple meal did the trick. But you aren’t sure.

After the meal, you brushed your teeth before lying down on the bed. Taylor was sitting on a couch beside your bed as promised.

That night, for the first time since you arrived in this world, you managed to sleep almost the whole night.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Hiii! could you maybe write a Grayson x reader fic with a reader who doesn’t feel she is lovable cos her parents were abusive and taught her that?

hi!! thanks for your request, I realise it’s taken me a while to get around to writing it, so very sorry about that. It was a little dark but I’ll gave it a go. pre-warning I’ve never written anything like this before, so if it’s inaccurate or insensitive, I’m very sorry.

title: never good enough

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a make out session brings back some unwanted memories that you’re forced to face

warnings: really heated make-out session, suggestive themes (but nothing bad bad), lots of past trauma, swearing, panic attack, abusive parents

a/n: if any of the warnings trigger you, please do not read on, I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s pain!! I’d feel so guilty!!

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @heartwithsimplenotes @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual

I like the way he tastes and the feel of his lips on mine. It’s not something I see myself getting bored of. It feels nice. But what feels nicer is the feeling of someone desiring you, someone wanting you, maybe even needing you. The feeling that someone chose you for a reason, because you matter to them. I like that feeling the best.

With each kiss I imagine that he actually feels something for me. It’s easier to play pretend. If you play pretend for long enough it can start to feel like reality. Growing up, I used to create things in my head all the time. Fictitious fantasies to fill in my empty voids of emotion. I suppose the habit had bled into my adult life.

He moans against my lips. The sound of pleasure indicating I’ve done something right, something he enjoys. My heart swells at this symbol of approval. Why do I thrive off of approval? I shake the feeling away in another deep kiss, burying it under a mound of other things I was ignoring. If I can’t see them they’re not there, if I turn my back, if I close my eyes.

These kisses are meaningless really, my brain knows it, actually it keeps attempting to remind me but I’ve gotten quite good at discarding things people say. They hurt my heart but not my head.

Grayson isn’t one to display how he feels for me publically. He’s mentioned before that he feels he doesn’t need to display how he feels to the world, he’s doesn’t care what the world thinks, he only cares what I think. It’s a beautifully designed excuse to tell me secretly that he doesn’t want to show affection in public because he doesn’t want me. I’m an embarrassment to love. I always have been.

But I don’t care. Our private moments together are bliss because I get to escape the truth and I like that. The truth is bitter like the cud, it’s harsh, it’s cruel, it’s painful. I’ve had too much of that already. So in the moments where I can I indulge so much I blind myself from it, I revel in the occasion. For the while.

His hands are firmly on my hips and I can feel the warmth of them through my clothes. They feel strong and supportive. They might be the only thing holding me together right now or it feels like it anyway. My hands are buried deep within his hair but I’m too caught up in the moment to think about it much. His kisses are quick and sweet, a little gentle. Sometimes he’d draw one or two out into longer, more passionate kisses. I didn’t care, as long as his lips were on mine, my memories would be forgotten. He begins to slide his hand up my body, tracing the curves of my bodice and up all the way until his cupping my face in his hands.

“I love you,” he pants, cheeks rosy and flushed, as we pull apart for breath, “more than you’ll ever know.”

Every time he says those words it ignites yet another fragment of my heart, that burns into ash in my chest. He’s killing me softly and I’m sure he’s enjoying it. He’s just telling me he loves me so I’ll stay with him, give him what he wants until he’s bored enough. That’s fine. I don’t mind. I know this, I’ve always known this. But getting to live in these moments, these moments laced in fierce passion and licked with flames of lust always made the harsh reality easier to swallow.

I don’t reply. Instead I kiss harder, more intensely. Maybe if I kiss with even more vigor, even more passion I can completely forget my pain. Maybe my mind will go blank and won’t be able to fill it in this time. I want the piercing sensation of white light to hit me and if it does I will let it burn me. Until my memories are incinerated and I no longer have to live with the weight of fear on my chest

He registers my sudden serge for more and begins to deliver. He matches my yearning for something deeper, something more. We’re caught up in heavy breathing, racing hearts and profuse sweating. Neither one of us cared. My hands find the hem of his shirt and I am tempted to tug down on the fabric but I don’t trust myself. My mind is too hypnotised by the sweet poison of his persuasive lips, I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t make decisions like these. We’ve never gone further than kisses and I’m not sure if going further right now would make me feel better or worse. But who cares right?

No. I don’t let myself get that carried away. Not yet anyway. Even though I’ve previously been stripped of my dignity I will not be the one to do it to myself now. I take my hands away and slide them around the back of his neck.

We stop. Suddenly. And for a moment the standstill is uncomfortable. The absence of married lips is eerie almost. My mouth is tingling and I crave his taste already, it hasn’t been two seconds. It’s worse than drugs. I don’t want to stop kissing, every time we stop it opens a window for me to remember. A window I’ve been trying to avoid for far too long now.

He looks into my eyes and for a second I actually believe I’m wanted. Pools of gray, like a clear lake glistening in the moonlight. Pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty lips. But pretty doesn’t get you love. He smiles at me gently, a quiet kindness sparkles in his eyes. Sometimes I wonder how he is so perfect at forging this tenderness, how he claimed these masterful acting skills.

He trails his fingers gently down my face. It feels like he cares, the tentative manor misleading. Then suddenly I’m no longer in the apartment with Grayson. I’m back in my old house. No. I couldn’t be here. Not here. Anywhere but here. I don’t want to be back here. I escaped, I ran, I left, it was all over. I made sure it was over. I, I, I -

I’m back.

Sat on the living room sofa, that horrible itchy dull grey sofa, that appeared in my nightmares frequently. It even smells the same. The sour smell, that makes my stomach flip and my hands begin to shake. These four walls still haunt me. It looks as if they’re closing in, slowly, slowly. Like the room is getting smaller and I’m trapped. Claustrophobia seems to be my only companion.

My hands shake uncontrollably and no matter what I try and do to calm down, nothing works. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was coping well, I thought that it was going away. But this is proving otherwise.

I’m reliving a memory. A memory I’ve always wanted to forget. A memory scorched into my brain that tended to replay over and over like a relentless broken record that could never be smashed. I feel sick. I know what’s coming. No. I know who is coming.

His footsteps are an immediate giveaway and the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. I’m curled in a ball down, small, hiding like a helpless animal in a hole. If I curl up maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he won’t see me.

“What are you doing?”

A shiver runs down my spine. Every note in his voice is exactly how I remember it. The question echos around my head but I say nothing in reply. My words won’t form in my state of paralysis.

“Answer me girl!” my father barks. His voice venomous, dangerous.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly.

He grabs my arm, his fingers so tight around me that I’m sure that they’ll be bruises forming soon. He yanks me up as I attempt to cower backwards.

“Don’t take that tone with me you whore,” he spits in my face, the pungent wreaking of alcohol on his breath as he throws me to the floor.

I hit it with a thud. A dull aching thud. Just like the dull aching monotony of this scene that was just a part of every day life back then. I don’t move from the ground, I’ve learnt not to fight back. That only landed me in hospital last time. I lay there so still I hope he thinks I’m dead so he’ll leave me alone. He does not. He knows better. Unfortunately for me, he knows his daughter.

“You’re nothing but a piece of shit,” growls the voice that makes my blood curdle, “you hear that?”

I thought I’d left him far behind. I thought he was gone. I thought wrong. I am naive and I’m the idiot I have always been. I don’t reply again. There’s nothing to reply with. Of course I heard.

“I said, you HEAR that?” he screams it louder.

I don’t reply. Stupid mistake but he doesn’t give me time to undo it. He’s already standing over me. It had already begun.

***

He beats my body until my brittle bones long to snap. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. Those four words repeat over and over in my head. They might be the only thing keeping me conscious. No matter how much it hurts he cannot know he’s won. I refuse to hand him that victory of a silver platter, decorated in my jewels of agony.

And for a split second I wonder where my mother is and I don’t even know why. She would’ve do anything, she never did. She just stood there, emotionales, detached. Mothers are meant to protect and defend their children against anything in the world, it made me wonder why mine did not. It made me wonder if I were born to different people or maybe not born at all if things might be better off.

It’s not the time for thinking, I’m reminded. Another kick. I will not cry. A punch. I will not cry. My lip splits open. I will not cry. A twist of my left arm. I will not cry, I think my nose is broken. I will not cry.

“Stubborn little bitch won’t even shed a tear,” he snarls, bitterness so evident on his tongue I was surprised it hasn’t dissolved yet.

Yes I am stubborn. No I will not cry. Not for him. And then it happens. All over again. Beaten, bruised, battered, broken.

I can’t breathe. I’m in so much agony there’s no way I could even scream. So tears roll softly down my face as I’m curled up on the floor in defeat, desperation and humiliation. My body is nearly motionless, my limbs lay slack at my sides. I can’t help myself and no one is coming to save me. I let myself cry, broke the only promise I had to myself. I’m even betrayed my own brain for him.

I look up at him, tear streaked face. Is he happy now? Is he finally happy with me? Am I finally going to revive some sort of approval? Stupid questions to be wondering when I know exactly how this story ends.

As my eyes meet his, my father trails his fingers gently down my face. It still stings from the slap, the cells on my cheek screaming in agony. There’s the faint tinge of metallic blood in my mouth. My father trails his fingers gently down my face. Grayson trails his fingers gently down my face. My father trails his fingers gently- Grayson trails his fingers- My father trails- Grayson tr- my father Grayson my father Grayson my father Grayson my father.

SNAP.

I shiver and jerk away suddenly standing up. I try to back away as Grayson’s eyes fill with concern.

“What’s wrong,” he asks me, trying to reach out to me. I recoil at his attempt of a touch, like a frightened animal.

“I need to leave,” I barely get out, through my shallow breathing as I turn to find the door.

Where is the door? I couldn’t find the door. Breaths come in quicker and faster. Suffocating. I am suffocating. An invisible man has a plastic bag over my head and he is choking me slowly with it. I’m losing oxygen, I’m losing the things that keeps me alive.

Grayson is on his feet beside me, careful not to touch me, “did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you,” I pant, so breathless I wonder if I’m still breathing at all, “it’s all me.”

Dizziness rolls over me and I close my eyes. I feel my body sway slightly, my sense of balance robbed from me. A pair of strong hands catch my waist and pull me upright again. I try and focus my eyes but the room is spinning.

“Woah, hey,” it’s Grayson’s soft voice, “come here.”

That’s when I realise his hands are touching me. I try to pull away but can’t see where I’m going. I can’t see anything as black dots dance across my vision.

“No!” I yell, my ear beginning to ring.

“Hey, stop,” he says gently, ”sit down and take a breath.”

“No I can’t, I can’t, you don’t understand,” I hyperventilate, my chest in so much pain.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs rhythmically, extending his hand out towards me for me to take if I wanted.

I flinch away. His eyes are deep with realisation, he knows, he understands. I’ve given my secret away.

“Who hurt you?”

His voice is almost ragged, almost angry. His eyes are blazing, the soft grey hardens into cold steel. I open my mouth but no sound comes out. The words are unable to be spoken, they feel to forbidden. I don’t think I’d ever admitted my childhood out loud. I need air, fresh air. I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.

I feel like I’m drowning. Water blurring my vision, my heat pounding in my chest, my lungs screaming at me for the oxygen I cannot give them. My limbs frozen in a state of paralysis, heavy as lead, dragging me down. I can’t kick myself to the surface, I’m helplessly lost. All I can do I stare up and watch the last sight I’ll probably ever see. Sinking, sinking, sinking. I think I can feel my lungs fill up. They burn as if eager flames are licking the internal organ in pleasure. I can hear someone’s voice, it’s muffled, like there’s water in my ears. I can’t make out what they’re saying. I wonder if this person will haul my body from the water or they’ll give up on me like everyone else.

“It’s okay,” the voice is soft and sweet, it becomes clearer by the second, “don’t say anything, just focus on breathing for me, okay?”

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. I take one look into his silvery grey eyes and in this second trust him with my everything. My heart is racing and I can hear my sharp intakes of breath. I manage a small nod as he helps me back down onto the bed, propping pillows up behind my back. I’m sweating, profusely and I feel revolting. The tremor in my hands is slowing slightly as he clasps them in his.

“I need you to breathe,” he tells me, making direct eye contact.

My chest is so constricted it physically hurts. The aching only grows the more I think about it but I can’t seem to stop. Hair is stuck to the back of my neck and the side of my face. I slick it back using my own sweat.

“I… can’t…” I manage to get out in breathless gasps.

“Yes you can,” he murmurs, “look at me, focus on me.”

I do.

“Yes you can,” he repeats, his voice strong, confident full of faith. Faith for me.

I close my eyes and attempt to slow my rapid breathing. I feel his fingers around my wrist, squeezing a little to check my pulse. He is warm against my cool skin. I reach for his hand with my other one and guide it slowly to my chest. I want to feel his hand on my heart. I want him as close as possible. His hand is on me with my hand pressed firmly against it. I open my eyes and stare at him, wondering if he could read my pleading eyes as well as I could read his compassionate ones. Mellow grey stares back at me in understanding. He keeps his hand on my heart.

“Don’t let go,” I whisper, “please.”

“I’m not letting go,” he murmurs back, “don’t worry, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

In and out. In and out. In and out. I try to calm myself. It’s not like I’ve ever faced something like this before, I’d just never faced it in someone’s presence. The fear of him seeing me in this state of vulnerability, stripped of my many masks that tell the world I am okay when I’m not, that made it all worse.

But with some time, that could’ve been two minutes of two hours, my breathing slows, becomes more regulated. Things begin to calm down. I’m no longer sweating uncontrollably though my body is still wet. My shaking hands grow stiller by the second as I fiddle with the ring on my middle finger. Finally my heart rate begins to go down. I hear it less in my ears and feel it less in my chest. But it’s still there.

Grayson’s hand has still not left my heart, just like I asked. Gently I place my hand on his, and guide it back to his lap, letting him silently know he’d done his job. I take a hair tie and throw my hair up into an abomination on my head that I’m too tired to care about.

Grayson’s features have twisted into a way that almost makes him look worried. His eyes are larger than usual, his pupils dilated, swallowing up the comforting concrete grey. His eyes brows are pinched inwards slightly, only just and his lips are parted as if he wants to ask a question but can’t find the words. I want to pretend this look is real, I want to pretend he’ll still want me even after seeing me in my state, I want to pretend that this time it’s different. But I can’t afford to pretend anymore.

“Better?” he asks quietly, after a long period of silence.

“Better,” I rasp, my voice so hoarse it’s unfamiliar to me.

I rest my head back and close my eyes. Breathing in and out normally feels like a luxury now. I’m suddenly more grateful than I’ve even been for a steady flow of air to my lungs. Once I’m completely back to normal I make eye contact with Grayson. His face is difficult to read.

“What happened back there?” he asks me quietly, almost looking guilty for the question.

“What do you mean?” I reply, confused. Hadn’t he been there, hadn’t he seen?

“Why did you start to panic,” he clarifies, “what did I do to set it off?”

I want to shoot the conversation down there and then. Absolutely not. I am not ready to tell him anything, I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to look at me different because of it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, averting my eyes.

“Of course it does,” he presses further, “sweetheart I love you and-

Oh those three words. How the act as another knife to my chest every time. I love you is not meant for girls like me, I love you is meant for people who are worthy and special, I love you has never once been said to me with any true meaning behind it.

“Stop,” I snap, the word louder and harsher than I intended. It silently echoes through the empty space and takes a moment to sink in.

“What?” he asks after a few beats, confusion distorting his features.

“Just stop that,” I almost yell, as I go to get up, “stop doing that.”

“What am I doing?” he asks quickly.

“You’re lying to me,” I say, my voice wavering when I really didn’t want it to.

“What?”

“Every time you say those stupid words and I can’t afford to believe them,” I exclaim, welling up with this sudden surge of emotion.

“Slow down sweetheart,” he says slowly, “what are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t love me,” I shout. I’m exhausted. Exhausted of living this lie and now I’m at my breaking point and I can’t afford to continue. There are too many lies, in my head, in my heart, in my life. This one I want to be rid of.

“What?”

“I know it so you can stop pretending I matter, that I mean something to you,” I sob.

Great. Now I’m crying again. Again. Pouring out my weaknesses for him to see. I’ve never felt so unbelievably helpless.

“What are you talking about? Of course I love you,” he says it as of I’ve said something stupid or in gibberish.

Of course. Why of course? It isn’t obvious and I’m not an idiot. I’m stood here crying and he has the audacity to tell me this. I look him dead in the eye, my vision blurred a little due to the heaviness of my heart.

“No one can love me.” My voice is low and laced with the agony I’m so desperately trying to conceal.

“Who told you that?” he asks.

How did he know? How could he see through my mask so easily? Was it cracked, had it slipped or was it just all transparent now?

“I didn’t need to be told, it’s just how I am,” I spit back, hoping my bitterness might deter him.

“No,” Grayson replies, his voice so sharp it cut dangerously through the air like a knife.

“What?”

“No, that’s not how you are,” he says, “because I love you.”

He digs a finger into his chest in attempts to prove his point, it looks hard enough to hurt but he doesn’t wince.

“Stop saying that!” I yell over him, “it makes it more painful, every time you say it, it’s like a stab in the heart and I can’t take it anymore.”

I expect him to get angry, to stand up and hurl insults at me. We’ve never argued before. But instead his face softens. “I’m not lying,” he tells me gently, his voice like caramel, “how could I lie?”

He’s not lying? Or at least that’s what he’s telling me. But the softness of his eyes look like he means it. No. I can’t let myself be so naive, I can’t believe everything I’m told, I’ve learnt that the hard way.

“Everyone who I’ve ever trusted has lied to me, why would that make you any different?” I ask bitterly.

“Because I do love you,” he tells me, “with all of my heart. You don’t understand what you do to me. I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re not around, you’re the main character of all my thoughts and dreams for that matter. Not a moment goes by without a thought involving you. You are the other half of my heart, you have it, you stole it from me the day we met. And I don’t even care because if I were to meet any thief I would choose you every time and I’m so glad you took it. I mean goddamit, you mean everything to me, everything. I would die for you without thinking twice, without even blinking,” he says, “I just wish you could see yourself how I do. And whoever made you feel this way never deserved a fraction of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your love. They truly didn’t.”

I don’t say anything for a long while. I’m too awestruck. He loves me. He really actually loves me unconditionally. He always did and I always pushed that notion away.

I’ve never said anything about my past out loud. It makes it less real, I can forget if I bury it. Except I can’t I’ve tried and tried desperately to do so but relentlessly as ever my brain has never let it go.

“My father,” I choked horsely, “my abused me physically from when I was young. I thought it was normal.”

Something twists in Grayson’s stomach, I can see it all over his face. He looks ill, all the colour has drained from his face and his eyes are sorrowful, mournful even.

“But the bruises, they were okay,” I murmur, “even the scars, I could deal with them. It was my mother who cut the deepest, without even laying a finger on me. Her words were…” I attempt to pull myself together, “…her words left scars no one will ever be able to understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words are so quiet I can barely hear him. He looks mortified.

“It’s not your fault,” is all I can reply with. There’s nothing else to say.

“No one should have to-“

“But they do,” I choke, my voice getting shaky again, “and you know what, I’m tired.”

I wish I didn’t feel this weak, this powerless. Tears start free flowing down my cheeks, uncontrollably. Salty droplets leave glistening trails on my cheeks like in some sort of abstract painting in an art museum.

“I’m tired of this pain,” I sob, “I just want it to go away, I just want to be normal.”

The pain wracks my body. Grayson takes me into his open arms and holds me to the warmth of his chest. I nuzzle into him, seeking comfort I’d never received from anyone else. I cling to him like a frightened child to their mother, my knuckles white. I’m almost scared to let go, incase that means I have to let go forever. I can hear his steady heartbeat against my ear. I sob louder, my body physically beginning to ache from the crying.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes, stroking a soft hand down my hair, “you’re going to get through this and I’m going to help you.”

“How?” I wail. I’m hysterical and I hate it, but it’s taken control of me now.

“We just are, I promise,” he says, so much passion, so much faith behind the words. I want to believe him but I’ve had too many promises broken.

“I thought I was getting better,” I laugh bitterly, the tears flowing thicker and faster and harder, “I thought that I was coping better with all of this and now this is just proof that I’m not.”

I get it all off of my chest, words I’ve longed to speak for so long, the ones that have been locked away and avoided. I can say them. Freely. The caged bird is remembering she has wings, remembering she could once fly.

“Listen to me,” Grayson says, his voice clear, defined, “what you’ve been through isn’t something you just get over overnight, it’s not something you can wash away.”

“Why can’t it be?” I ask, snivelling in an attempt to gulp back my tears that seemed to be endless.

“It doesn’t work that way love,” he says, his voice so soft it could melt butter but instead it melts my heart.

“But…” I trail off into more sobs. I can’t carry on. Words are not enough to describe what I’m feeling, they’re not deep enough, the they aren’t raw enough.

I sob uncontrollably feeling more humiliated by the second. Loud, ugly, horrible sobs. When things are buried you don’t realise that they’ll eventually resurface. My body jolts backwards and forwards each time I let out a cry.

He pulls me close to his chest and whispers sweet nothings to me to comfort me. He doesn’t say anything the whole time. Somehow he knows that’s what I need. He just holds me, lets me know he’s there with the melodic rise and fall of his comfortable chest. He’s so gentle, so soft, he makes me feel fragile and delicate like a sharp of glass. I cry until I’m so dehydrated that there are no tears left and I’m so exhausted that I want to pass out.

And even then he stays holding onto me, supporting my broken body. He holds me, holding all my dilapidated pieces together, keeping me from falling apart. He cradled my head in my arms and tentatively strokes my hair. I feel myself relax a little more, I feel myself shut my eyes. Suddenly I’m aware of a sensation in my chest. At first I think it’s the panic coming back to prey on me some more but the feeling is too calming. It’s spreading across the left side of my chest, tingling a little but in a ticklish manor. It’s almost a warmth.

Is this what love feels like?

I open my eyes and sit up. What am I roping him into? He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to be held back by someone like me. He could have anyone, any body in this whole world. I’m the last person he needs in his life.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say trying to pull myself free of his arms but his grip is tight, oddly reassuring. He’s not going to let me go, he’s not planning on leaving, he wants to say. To take care of me.

“Do what?” he asks, brushing some loose baby hairs out of my puffy face.

“The door is wide open, feel free to walk out on this,” I explain with an elaborate hand gesture, “you don’t have to deal with me.”

“The door is firmly bolted shut and no one will be walking out,” he tells me slowly, “you’re not a problem to be dealt with, you’re a person. A wonderful, beautiful, spectacular person, that I have the pleasure of loving.”

Tears well up in my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today, I’ve never cried so much in my life. The recurring lump in my throat makes another appearance. I don’t mean to get so emotional, but I do. I’m so used to being strong I suppose there’s only so much one person can take before they burst. I feel loved and wanted and needed and cared for, everything I’ve always wished for. Here is a man giving me all of that and more.

“And what if I don’t know how to be loved?” I whisper, fear clamouring up my throat.

“Then I’ll show you,” he whispers, pulling me closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get it wrong,” I panic, “I don’t know how to love.”

“Yes you do,” he soothes, “I know you do because I can feel it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, I hurt people when I love them,” I tell him as he gently caresses my hair, running his fingers through it.

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” he says, “look at me sweetheart, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. Ever. We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

I nod, my heart not feeling so heavy. I lean further into Grayson and let him kiss the top of my head. The small gesture meaning mountains more because I know he loves me. And for the first time in a long time I smile, a real true smile. And it feels nice.

a/n: again, I’ve never written anything like this before so idk if it did it right 😭😭 anyways so sorry for it taking so long, hope you enjoyed

TIG masterlist

[antimony-medusa]

Guys, every time I post something about like “you may not realize this but you’re really coming up on a kink here, consider tagging”, as the post escapes my circle I keep getting people coming into my notes like “YEAH I’m sick of those FREAKS in the fandom, get them out” and like that is not what I’m saying at all.

I have been posting things because I think some people aren’t realizing how they’re coming across in some cases, or not realizing that this connection is tropes they’re super into has a specific name. It happened just the other day with someone coming up to me like “wait intox kink is a thing”? And yes. These are all things. There are names for all these things.

I’m posting these things because a) it starts to get rude to take some of these tropes and insist there’s nothing but vanilla posting happening in this fic. In the same way as you wouldn’t show up to work in a bikini there are fic subjects that are rude to drop on people unwarned.

And like, when I hit things I’m not into unwarned there’s a whole spectrum there from raising my eyebrows and continuing to having to click off a fic, but I do not have a moral or ethical problem with people writing family relationships I consider to be suspect. I think you should tag it to be polite but in the same way as I would go Huh about someone coming into my work in a bikini, I think they’ve misread the tone of the room, but they have not committed a mortal sin. I’m not saying that this person who showed up in a bikini is someone we should shun out of the community. God, I have hit legit triggers unwarned for before, and I don’t enjoy that, but I don’t think the person who did this is a terrible person or something. You messed up but you’re still like, fine.

But I’m also posting it because b) knowing that what you’re into has a name can be an experience full of joy. Mortifying? Yes! Especially if you realize that this is a theme through multiple of your works and you had no idea! Ask me about my fucking discovery that I found dubcon interesting and I’d been writing YA novels with romantic interactions structured around uneven power deferentials. I wanted to throw myself into the sea and never write again.

But once I went ohhhhhhh that’s why I found interactions where one person had a dearth of options to be interesting, I could b) not put it in my work unwarned for and not for all audiences c) investigate that theme more fully and decide if I wanted to celebrate it structurally and focus in on it or just include it as a fun highlight d) seek out other works with that tag and see other people exploring that. e) understand the baffling reactions I had going on from people where sometimes I could bring up a story and it would go well and sometimes they would hate it and it seemed random? Connected to Whump? Me trying to do romance was bad? No, it turns out one of my friends hates consent issues and I think they’re fun. You know how much easier that made interactions with that friend?

Like, part of the posting I have been doing is because there are tropes you don’t bring up in polite company. Incest is one of them. Consent issues. Daddy kink. If I was doing these things and putting them in the platonic tag, I would want to be warned that I was doing it. And sometimes the tone of my posts has gotten a bit hysterical because seeing endless waves of this stuff presented as though it’s vanilla can make you feel like you’re in the mirror dimension. *I* know that you shouldn’t be doing that, but everyone around me had shown up to the exam wearing a banana bikini. They are gonna go out into the work world like that. Do they not know? Etc.

But like if you spend enough time with yourself you’ll find you’ve got one or two interests you have to pick the friend group to talk about because people will think they’re weird. Everybody is like this. People are strange and complex. I don’t want to get into pointing and going ahahahahahahah look at that, and I’m sorry if I’ve gone down that path.

I just think that it would be helpful if we use the right words for things occasionally.

[roonilwazlibimagines]

annoying - d.m x female!reader

Blurb: draco will never beat the annoying allegations, because he is annoying, but he is also romantic or the three times draco was annoying but the three times he made it up to her or just like really fluffy draco malfoy stuff

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: I FORGOT TO SAY THAT THIS IS NOT SMUT BUT IT IS VERY SUGGESTIVE AND INVOLVES NUDITY IM SORRY BUT LIKE VERY MUCH 16+

A/N: this started as a list of things i thought draco malfoy would do as a boyfriend but it turned into this and i made them married because they're traditional!! and they would not live together before marriage!! and i wanted them to live together for this!! in hindsight i could have written around it but i wrote this by the pool and it didn't occur to me then!! i will not change it now!!

ps. in my mind this is with potter!daughter but there was no mention of other potters so i didn't force it, but if you would like to read draco x potter!daughter please check this tag or come talk to me about them because i am obsessed with them!

Masterlist

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“I’d say,” she tapped her finger to her lip, noticing the blonde boy hanging on her every word, “annoying,” she said with a confident finality.

“What?” She had to stop the amused expression she would normally wear, trying to convince her astounded husband that she was being serious. “You’re so full of shit.”

She gasped.

“You’re literally proving my point.” He rolled his eyes and manoeuvred his body to grab onto her hips and pull her towards him.

“Take it back.” He was peppering kisses all over her neck making her let out a traitorous giggle. But she refused to deny it.

It had started less than five minutes earlier. It was well past eleven at night and the young, newly wed couple were still in that stage where neither necessarily wanted to sleep, still fascinated with the idea of being married and wondering what differences came with it.

Draco was reading a new book that she had bought because the blurb sounded like something he would like and she was writing something down in her notebook, being extra careful not to get ink in the bed. Again.

When she suddenly put her quill down, a thump eliciting from the force of it landing on the paper, Draco didn’t even finish the sentence he was on before he dogeared the page he was on and put the novel on his lap to look at the pretty girl slouched next to him.

“If you could describe me in one word, what would it be?”

“Beautiful,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation. She rolled her eyes, copying his actions with her own notebook and placing it on the bedside table with the quill that managed to keep its ink where it was meant to be.

“You’re flattering me,” she turned her head back towards, “tell me the truth.”

“I am,” he insisted, also placing his book on his side so he could reposition himself to look at her properly. Her pyjamas were hanging loosely over her body and she had various strands falling out of her ponytail framing her face that was ever so slightly starting to puff up due to the late hour. But Draco was telling the truth.

“Alright, well give me another.”

Draco thought about this one for a second, trying to find a word that suited her but would also appease her interest.

She stared up at him as he hummed to himself. His hair was dishevelled and his t-shirt clung onto his biceps in a way that forced her to focus on the words leaving his pretty lips.

“Strong-willed.”

“Interesting,” she hummed, having a feeling that he was trying to say something to get a reaction out of her. Well, a reaction was what he was going to get.

“Well, if I had to describe you in one word,” she paused noticing how he quirked up slightly at that, “I’d say…” and that was how she ended up being trapped by his arms, victim to his kisses and fingertips digging into the flesh on her sides.

“I’m not annoying, love.” He said, finally loosening his grip on her, but when she made no effort to move he kept his arm draped loosely over her hips, keeping her back pushed against his chest.

“Lies,” she basically hissed the word at him leaving him with a cocky smirk that she had to strain her neck to see.

Because he was annoying.

It was literally just this morning that he had annoyed her.

“Draco,” her voice echoed throughout the house and Draco put down his spoon to yell back, “What?”

He was at the dining table, eating a second breakfast, and he swallowed his cereal as he heard her footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Did I leave my lip balm down there?” Her voice was slightly less loud as she made her way to him, confident she had left it on the table when they ate breakfast together. Or, Draco’s first breakfast together.

Draco’s eyes didn’t take long to land on the cylinder, stood up right in front of where his pretty wife had been sitting minutes ago. He quickly snatched it into his hand, securing it in his palm before she appeared in front of him.

“Haven’t seen it,” he mumbled, grabbing his spoon in his free hand to shove more cereal in his mouth, hoping it would prevent him from giving himself away.

“Really?” She asked, making her way over to the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I left it here.” He could hear her moving around various objects and sighing when she gave up and moved to the living room.

“It’s literally just a white cylinder, are you sure you haven’t seen it?” She made her voice louder to reach him from the other room where he could hear her rummaging around the lounge, no doubt seeing if it had fallen into one of the many crevices. Why? He wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been there this morning.

“I know what your lip balm looks like,” he replied moodily. He heard her huff and when he looked back up from his bowl she was standing in front of him. Good to see she could be quiet when she wanted to be.

“You have it.”

“What?” Draco dropped his spoon again, said lip balm burning a hole through his palm.

“You have it.” And within seconds she was directly in front of him. But Draco was quicker and he had risen to his full height, putting his traitorous hand behind him as his chair made a loud scraping noise against their floor.

“Show me your hand.” She moved to grab his hand hiding behind his back but he turned so she couldn’t reach.

“You need to work on your reflexes, babe.”

“You need to stop acting like a child, babe,” she mimicked.

She had her hands folded across her chest, hoping to catch him by surprise when she made to move again.

He was looking down at her with a horrid smirk, her squinted eyes and downward curve of her lips only serving to make it stronger.

“Give it to me,” she whined, suddenly making a move to grab it. Draco had let his guard down ever so slightly, distracted by her pretty face and this time when she went to grab it, her fingers brushed his knuckle.

But Draco needed to make sure she couldn’t reach it so this time, his arm went above his head and he knew it was the right move when she whined once more, “Draco.” She dragged out the last vowel of his name and made a slight movement that looked like her stamping her foot in the ground in annoyance.

“Why are you like this?”

Draco only shrugged his shoulders, making her huff as she brought her arms around her chest once more.

When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“I’m not going to beg for it.”

“But you sound so pretty when you do.” She scoffed at him and his stupid smirk and his stupid lanky height that meant there was no way for her to reach it without jumping. And even that would be a stretch.

“Draco Malfoy, I swear-“ but she never finished because he got an awful twinkle in his eye when she said his full name and she wasn’t having it. She took a step towards him and reached to the very tip of her toes to try and grab it.

Her hand only reached his wrist.

“You’re such a child.” She groaned, straining to reach even further. Draco brought his head back slightly to look at her determined face trying to and grab the lip balm, still secure in his palm.

She gave up trying to reach and instead wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tried with all her might to drag it down.

She let out a soft groan that made Draco chuckle.

“Maybe if you’d ask nicely I’d give it to you.”

Draco was sure the devil himself had taken the place of his pretty wife with the dirty look he was on the receiving end of.

“Draco,” she said, dropping her hold on his wrist and taking the tiniest of steps back.

“Yes, my love.”

“Can I please have my lip balm?” Her voice was steady and Draco knew that she was fighting her own mind not to scream and shout until she got her way.

“Well, because you asked so nicely.” He dropped his hand, but still put it behind his back as he lent down to press a soft kiss to her pouting lips.

When he pulled back she was giving him an impatient look, her palm out, waiting for him to give it back to her.

Still smirking, he put it in her hand, quickly pulling his hand away when her fingers wrapped around it and she snatched it away. Huffing as she made her way back up the stairs.

“A thank you would be nice,” Draco yelled out, going back to his soggy cereal and chuckling when a string of profanities floated all the way to his ears.

She was quick to remind him of this incident now that they were in bed and Draco still stood by the fact that he was not annoying.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that was annoying,” he argued, with her back still against his chest. She rolled her eyes, grateful that he couldn’t see.

“I would.”

“I was just teasing,” he insisted and she scoffed. “You know I would’ve given it back to you.”

He was partially right, he did like to tease her, but teasing her was annoying.

It was only that weekend that that had gone to a house party with some friends from high school. Everyone was taking advantage of the summer months, and most of them were sitting outside, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon without the sun blaring down on them.

She had been inside for the last hour or so, trying to avoid any red flesh and catching up with some old friends, but when the noticed the guilty star had left the sky, they started to make their way out.

She noticed immediately that there weren’t going to be enough chairs, so she happily made her way over to Draco and sat on his lap.

He was halfway through a conversation with someone and even though he didn’t explicitly acknowledge her presence, he still manoeuvred his body so she could make herself comfortable. And once she stopped wriggling all over him, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She was happy sitting there, sipping her drink, laughing at whatever her friends said, and enjoying the way the scent of her boyfriend overtook her senses.

Halfway through one of their stories she felt something crawling on her arm and with a quiet groan she twitched in Draco’s lap, flicking the intruder away.

“What’s wrong, lovey?” Draco bent down to whisper in her ear so as not to disrupt the conversation and draw attention to them.

“The bugs are eating me alive,” she huffed, repositioning herself so she was half draped over his lap.

“Can’t blame them,” he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, “you taste so good.”

She gave him an unimpressed look and the edge of his lips quirked up in a familiar smirk before their attentions went back to the conversation.

Every now and then she’d twitch whenever a crawling trespasser appeared on her skin. Each instance followed by a huff and a sigh from the pretty girl resting on Draco’s lap.

Draco was trying his best to defend his girlfriend, removing his hand from her waist to wave it around anytime a bug even dared to look at her and keeping a loose arm around her so she could wriggle and swat away whenever she pleased. But for some reason, the bugs had chosen his pretty girl to annoy tonight, and no one was as in tune with her annoyance as he was.

That’s why he thought what he was about to do was risky. She was already annoyed, but it wasn’t at the hands of him, so he figured he’d do it anyway.

When the conversation had started to die down and people turned to the others around them, starting their own private conversations, Draco turned down to his wife and started a conversation with her.

She was happily chatting away, and Draco was listening intently. He promised. But when she got towards the end of her sentence and took a breath, Draco purposefully furrowed his eyebrows together.

He noticed immediately the increase of diameter of her pretty eyes and the way she froze ever so slightly in his lap.

“What’s that?” He asked, flicking his head up in the direction of her own.

“What’s what?” Her voice had risen an octave and Draco was glad the rest of the group were talking over each other loud enough to drown her out.

“That,” Draco said again, subtly taking his hand away from the valley of her spine. “I think,” he paused and got the desired effect with the look of fright she was giving him, “there’s a,” she was frozen on his lap, “a bug on you.” And as he finished the world’s longest sentence his fingertips found her neck and a tiny squeal left her lips as she contorted her body into his, naive to think she’d find safety with him.

She could feel his whole body shake as he let out a strong laugh, his arms returning around her waist and locking her into his grasp as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I hate you so much.”

Draco could feel her pulse and he almost felt bad for causing her such annoyance, but when she strained her neck to frown at him, a hard crease between her pretty eyes, he couldn’t help the boyish smirk that enveloped his face.

“Liar,” he retorted, not missing the way she clung to him when she thought there was danger.

“I apologised for that,” Draco whined, now in bed. Similarly pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she recalled just how annoying his teasing was.

He did feel bad for it. He didn’t think it would upset her that much. He just wanted to upset her slightly.

“Still annoying,” she grumbled, refusing to look back up at him.

“C’mon,” Draco continued, a tinge of a whine tainting his tone, “you love being teased.”

She rolled her eyes at his poor attempt of a double entendre.

But this time he was telling the truth.

It was only last week when this had occurred.

They had only been married for a couple of months after almost a year of being engaged, but their house was in the works the second Draco proposed to her so they would have somewhere to go when a permanent gold band rested where their fourth finger on their left hand came in contact with the knuckle.

Draco was at her house, going over the plans to ensure she was happy with anything. She was listening. Partly. She trusted Draco.

"Oh," he added as well, knowing that he didn't have her complete attention, "we also have to decide if we want a pool."

"Obviously," she scoffed, knowing by the way that the corner of his mouth tugged upward that he was just trying to get her involved.

Because Draco knew he wanted a pool, and he was glad for it when they woke up to the sun peaking through their window, waking them up and inviting them to join it outside while they played in the pool.

Draco was already in, unbothered by the wait of his pretty wife who took slightly longer to get ready. And the wait was worth it when she came out in a two-piece which Draco really thought was an overstatement considering how little of her was covered.

She swayed her hips on purpose, noticing the slight part in her husband's pretty lips, doing a faux pose when she reached the pool that made Draco clear his throat.

"You look good."

"I know," she beamed at him cheekily, throwing her towel on the chair next to his and tying her hair up in a high bun. "I'm not in the mood to get my hair wet today, I'm too lazy to wash it."

Draco didn't say anything, but she didn't give it a second thought knowing that his eyes were preoccupied.

Draco floated over to the stairs as she made her way in, letting out a little squeal as her feet touched the first step.

"It's so cold!"

"You can't be serious." Draco let out a small chuckle as she placed her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm very serious, Draco," she whined, finding the courage to go to the next step.

It was up to her calves, and she was going against the water as she kicked her legs out, trying to acclimatise to the new temperature.

Draco, already knowing he consequences of his actions, placed his hands in the water and flicked it over at her.

"Draco!" She had put her hands out in a poor attempt to save herself from his attack and bent a leg up towards herself in some sort of defence.

He laughed.

"Stop being such a baby." She gave him a pout that very much reminded him of a baby.

But she took no note of her husband’s rude comments and instead put her hands in the water to splash him back. 

“C’mon, yours was much bigger than mine.” Draco rolled his eyes, running a hand through his now wet hair and putting his hands back in the water. 

“Draco Malfoy if you dare-”

She was already folding in on herself, but she never felt the splash or got to finish her statement because Draco had cut her off. 

“C’mon darling, I promise I won’t splash you if you just get in.” 

She put her hands down slowly, not sure how much she should trust the blonde haired boy giving her a sly grin. 

“I don’t trust you,” she said, her actions betraying her words as she took another step down. It reached just above her bottom piece and Draco heard her take a sharp breath in as a couple of goosebumps erupted on her lotioned skin. 

One more step to go.

“I promise I won’t splash you.” He had an odd look of sincerity on his face, but she made sure to keep eye contact with him as she placed her hands in the water and brought them to the tops of her shoulders in an attempt to let her body become familiar with the cool liquid.

She went to the next step. She took in a shaky breath, moving on the spot in a hurried motion to try to bring some warmth to her body. 

“One more step, love, c’mon.” Draco opened his arms in an attempt to get her into his embrace. 

“I swear, Draco, if you splash me,” she trailed off, letting her foot fall off the last step and pushing her body towards his arms. 

He grabbed onto her, his hands roaming around her hips as he bent his head down to press a kiss to her pretty lips. 

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away with a slight breathlessness, “you’ll what?” He lent back to kiss her, unashamed, he knew he was in trouble the second he saw her enter the backyard in her little bikini that didn’t leave a lot to his imagination. 

“I-I’ll,” she forced herself to pull away even though she wanted nothing more than to kiss her pretty husband until their skin shrivelled from the water. But Draco had other plans, because when she was looking at him, a soft look in her eyes from the way he had kissed her, he decided this was the perfect time.

His fingers locked around her waist and the last thing he saw was her pretty eyes widen as he pulled her under the water with him.

He knew he’d never hear the end of it the second he brought them to the surface and she let out a couple of dramatic coughs.

“Are you trying to kill me?” She shrieked, blinking the water out of her eyes and pushing his shoulders ever so slightly with the butt of her palm. His arms were still locked around her waist and he had no intention of letting go.

All he did was laugh in response, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes and leaning down to pepper kisses all over her slimey face. All he could taste was her sunscreen and she kept twisting in his grasp and trying to pull her face away from him, but he continued his attack bravely.

“Hey,” he said, letting out a chuckle despite the grumpy look on her pretty face, “I only promised not to splash you.”

She wanted to scream. Instead, she splashed him back.

“Well, I never promised not to splash you.” She said indignantly in a way that reminded Draco of a child.

“Ah,” he said, much too arrogantly for her taste, “is that how you want to play?” He removed his hands around her waist to splash at her, but even though she knew what was coming, she didn’t step away from him.

“Nuh uh,” she whined, turning her head to avoid the water coming into contact with her face, “you promised you wouldn’t splash me.”

“Well, I take it back.” It was then she decided that she hated Draco’s height. She used to admire it, loved how he towered over almost anyone in any room. But now, she came to realise that his arms were much too long, because before she even got the chance to splash him back he had reached out and grabbed onto her hips, pulling her closer to him and bringing her with him under the water once more.

This time she gave him a good shove on the shoulder while they were under the water, but she wondered if Draco even noticed with the way his hands were squeezing her hips and grabbing at her flesh.

It was only when he brought them to the surface that she realised he was trying to find the string keeping her bikini bottom up and once again, she cursed his long fingers for quickly untying the double knot.

“Draco!” Her hands left his shoulders to grab onto her swimmers before Draco got any other ideas, but Draco was quick and in one swift movement he grabbed both of her hands in his.

She wriggled against him, but movement only made the swimmers pull away from her skin so instead she gave him a defeated look.

He was laughing manically, his chest rumbling at her predicament and the pretty pout that was gracing her pretty lips.

In another swift movement he turned her around so her back was against his chest and her hands were still locked up in Draco’s large hand jail, but the movement was not her friend because with his other free hand, Draco had grabbed the traitorous bottom and thrown it out of the pool, quick to bring it to the front and give her top the same treatment.

He was taking his time, kissing all over her neck, trying to get her to succumb to his pleasures, but she was strong-willed and it was only the way her voice gave a slight tremble at the end of her sentence that gave her away.

“You’re so annoying.”

Draco was now kissing her neck in a similar fashion, but she wasn’t going to give in.

“Thought you liked it then?” He teased, his voice low from the late hour and soft due to their proximity.

“I mean it was alright.” Draco could tell by the slight quiver of her voice and lack of comeback that his little neck kisses were getting to her.

“Do you want to try another word, darling?”

But while the kisses may have softened her, she was still able to respond with, “romantic.”

Because he was.

The only reason she was looking for her lip balm was because he was taking her out for lunch.

And when she came down, all dressed up for him, she twirled on the spot, loving the soft look in his eyes compared to the mischievous twinkle he had worn trying to get a reaction out of her.

They were sitting across from each other and when she rested her hand on the table, Draco took it in his own and neither arm was strong enough to move from its position.

While they waited for the server to come over, she used her free hand to rifle through her bag and when she found the desired lipstick and started putting it on, Draco squinted his eyes at her.

“What?”

“I want to ask you a question.” She gave a seconds pause before putting her lipstick away and facing her pretty husband.

“I’m scared.”

He disregarded her comment and asked, “what’s in your bag?”

“My bag?” She gave him a confused look, losing the warmth of his palm as she grabbed her bag for a second time. The very expensive bag Draco had bought for her only a month or so ago because she had made a trivial comment about how pretty it was when they first walked past it.

She opened it and showed it to him, he was her husband, she had nothing to hide.

Draco liked what he saw. Lipstick, a little mirror, the perfume she usually wore in a small cylindrical glass, and the lip balm he had teased her about this morning.

“What if I forgot the card at home?” he chuckled, his smile only intensifying at the confused look on his pretty girl’s face.

“The credit card?”

“What other card, darling?” The smirk on his face told her he was telling a fib, but she still asked, “did you?”

She never got her response though as the server politely interrupted the conversation, causing her to close her bag back up and listen to Draco repeat what she had told him she wanted from the menu.

The fact that he was ordering told her all she needed to know about the card situation, but she still continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption.

“In all honesty, I stopped bringing money with me after, like, our second month of going out.”

This made Draco let out a laugh that was an inappropriate volume given their surroundings, but the couple didn’t notice.

When Draco calmed down, he put his hand back on the table and she reached out to hold onto it.

“Good,” he said, bringing their intertwined hands towards him to press a row of soft kisses along her knuckles.

When he had frightened her over the bug situation, he kissed and doted on her the rest of the afternoon, feeling bad that he had upset her so greatly.

When her cup was empty he placed her on his seat and went inside to fill it back up for her. Lifting her back onto his lap when he returned.

When they arrived home he had her silk robe waiting for her the second her foot stepped out of the shower and he happily had her sit on the edge of the bathtub as he completed her skincare.

“You know,” she said, giving him the saddest look she could muster, “I was so scared when you pretended there was a bug on me, it really tired me out, I don’t think I can do my skincare.” He let out a large scoff, even though she was still frowning, giving him a faux innocent look with her silk robe wrapped tightly around her.

“C’mere,” he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub but reached out to grab her fingertips, bringing her closer to him so he could sit her on the edge next to him, “you big baby.”

And even after he played with her pretty hair until she fell asleep, he still felt bad. He let out a sigh as he begrudgingly got out of the comfortable bed and once he was outside of their room he called for the house elf and instructed him to get a bunch of her favourite flowers before they woke up.

Draco found that he fell asleep quite easily after he had settled that matter and his arms were wrapped around the waist of his pretty wife.

But he was disgruntled when he woke up hours later to find said pretty wife sitting on the edge of the bed, a small white card in her hand that he assumed belonged to the bunch of her favourite flowers that the house elf had delivered.

He lazily trailed his fingertips down her spine, enjoying the way she jolted at his touch.

“Come back to bed, lovey.” When she put the card down and turned around she found Draco’s arm sprawled out to the side from where he had let it linger on her skin. His eyes were still closed and his hair was sticking on his forehead.

She leant over to smooth it away from his pretty face and when he brought his arm back up she gingerly found her way back to him, his arm coming back down the second he was satisfied she was comfortable.

And it was after they christened the pool that she started to whine about her wet hair.

“I told you I didn’t want to wash it.” Draco wished he had a couple more minutes before her attitude came back, but was quick to remember he was the reason she was in a mood and so he kept that thought to himself.

She was behind him while Draco swam to the edge to receive the two pieces he had meanly thrown out of reach.

“I’m not getting them,” she had scoffed at his reply when she said she needed her swimmers back to which Draco pointed to the edge of the pool where they were sprawled haphazardly. “I’m naked,” she whispered as if it was a sin worse than what had just occurred in their own swimming pool.

“I’ll wash it for you,” he grumbled throwing her swimmers at her. She wasn’t quick enough to grab them so they floated on the surface of the water. She picked up the bottoms and started tying the knots in the appropriate places.

“Really?” She asked, Draco already swimming back to her, picking her top up and redoing the knots he had cruelly untied moments before.

“Of course my love.”

And that was how she found herself sitting in between his legs, warm water filling their bathtub with rose petals tickling her calves and the smoke of a coconut candle making its way into her nose.

She let out a hum as Draco’s fingertips circled her scalp. She let her head fall back so she could look up at him and he was quick to place a quick kiss on her forehead before gently pushing her head up so he could continue his service.

“You spoil me.” Draco liked when she whined and pouted and screeched whenever he found a new way to annoy her, but more than anything he loved the content in her tone knowing that he would always look after her. No matter how much he annoyed her.

“Romantic sounds better,” Draco hummed, leaning down to press some more kisses along her jaw.

But she was brave and she pulled away so she could turn around and face her lovely husband.

She ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in a way that brought a grin to what Draco thought was her precious face.

How lucky she was, really, to have such a beautiful husband. Who, despite his teasing, made sure that she was treated like royalty. Who would never let her worry about a single thing if he had his way and who made sure she knew he loved her, even if he liked to annoy her. Who called her beautiful even when she called him annoying.

“And handsome,” she whispered, bringing her hand to his soft cheek, not missing the way he leaned into her touch, “so handsome.”

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

[whorejolras]

as promised: jess' les amis fanfic rec list ✨

this is mainly e/r, a little bit of e/r/c and a few courferre

This is just the stuff that was in my bookmarks on ao3 when I started writing this post (months ago lol sorry it took so long). Going through I was shocked to see so many of my faves weren't actually bookmarked so I will for sure do a part two when I find them again, and have also added heaps of new fics to my bookmarks since then, but for now 25 fics is enough 😂

many of these will be rated E and will have sexual content, some are straight up pwp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok first is my ultimate fave that isn't even on ao3 anymore, but thankfully is on the authors tumblr, and that's:

Gnomon by luchia

50-80k words (?) (bc it's not on ao3 i'm estimating)

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

terrorist/assassin Enjolras my beloved ever. My fave are the "charming young man capable of being terrible" fics obviously. This one is my #1 e/r like in my head this is it's own canon. & this series has my fave e/r smut scenes ever. I still daydream about a Gnomon tv show...

- trigger warnings bc it's not on ao3 so doesn't have tags: murder, gun and knife violence, bombs, conversations about the deaths of children. this is not healthy relationship fluff but it makes for a 🥵 dynamic that's for damn sure.

also linking the rest of the series which is up on ao3 still, even though it is officially abandoned and unfinished - i am going to break my ultimate rule right off the bat and link an unfinished series bc I like it so much.

stupid terrorist boys by luchia

series, 5 works

200k words

rating: M and E

here we have gnomon's prequels, two sequels, and some one shots in between 🫶🏻

if you're here for kinky pwp Senselessly Happy and Unsuspecting could be good stand-alone (but it's better when reading in order). I would say read Gnomon first on tumblr then read the rest in order on ao3.

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell

50k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire, background Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

Enjolras is cursed for speaking out against the gods, Grantaire is there for him.

will I ever shut up about this fic? Never. fave fave fave. the world building, the mythological/religious system, the writing, the "I love you" "I don't think you do, actually" scene URGH!!!! I think of this fic every time i hear chopsticks. Everything happening with courf/marius/cosette, and the genius inclusion of social worker Fantine my beloved. This is one of those "could be it's own novel" fics.

and the sequel from Enjolras' pov 😭 - Left Unsaid

World Ain't Ready by idiopathicsmile

185k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes it's the top fic yes everyone probably knows it but it's good for a reason. THE fake dating high school au fic that I broke all my rules for back in 2015. I refused to read unfinished fics, let alone T rated high school fics, yet I remember waiting for the updates for this one as it came out, messaging mutuals on the day the last chapter was released. and every time I reread I remember why. Brilliantly written, the pining, the angst, the miscommunications. All the Joly and Bossuet scenes.

honourable mention to the scene where Joly is so excited for the battle of the bands, then next scene starts with "I think it's more of a sitting night today" the realest simple yet most gut punching illustration of chronic pain that gets my ass every time.

Lovesickness by idiopathicsmile

11k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire, Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

(we're gonna see a fair bit of idiopathicsmile on here)

this is one of my absolute favourites. not only bc I quote "hit by a truck full of shirts" all the time. a Joly pov fic!!!!!! my beloved!!!!! I'm a BIG JBM fan (they are essential to me when I'm writing grantaire) and love fics that stay true to his friendship with Joly and Bossuet. also I love when Enjolras is a giant dumbass who thinks his feelings for Grantaire is a mystery illness 😂

Still the Same by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna)

74k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

ok ok ok. listen. Yes. in this fic, Enjolras IS an fbi agent... and u know i'm the first and last to scream acab always...

that being said this is fully still one of my fave e/r/c fics. Enjolras and Combeferre are married & Enjolras needs to work with art thief Grantaire (fave) on a case. also that one bit at the end when Grantaire *redacted* 👀🫣

cupbearer by illuminate*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

series, 4 works

124k words total

ratings: T, M & E

Enjolras/Grantaire

this series!!!!!! VAMPIRE ENJOLRAS!!!! thrall Grantaire!!!! canon era AND modern au! REINCARNATION!!!! i'm eeeeaaaaattiiiing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

More Than Just a Game by ecaitlin

36k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre

Fake dating courferre 😭 this one is so good for the desert scene alone 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 one of my fave courferre fics

Good Intentions by ecaitlin

95k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre, background Marius/Cosette, Joly/Bossuet, Bahorel/Feuilly, and Enjolras/Grantaire ofc

THE les amis hogwarts au. 95k of Courfeyrac pov is always a treat for the system. in their last year at hogwarts, Courfeyrac decides to play matchmaker for all his friends. shenanigans!!!! fuck jkr, but whenever I wanna reread harry potter again I read this fic 🫶🏻 fave courferre ever, and also fave background e/r

if you remembered me by nightswatch*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

one thing about me is I love an amnesia fic! Enjolras loses his memory and Grantaire helps him recover 👀 this one's for the hurt/comfort and miscommunication/not being upfront about shit fans. also there's some past Grantaire/Combeferre and i'm always a fan

Beautiful Music Together by lady_ragnell

31k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

a rare Courf/Marius/Cosette fic for your palette. established Marius/Cosette need a little help from their good friend Courf with their sex life 👀 while the three of them also work on a musical assignment together 😭 prequel to You Dance Dreams kinda 👀

You Dance Dreams by lady_ragnell

61k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

(you can tell when i've found a writer who has a fair few fics and just gone nuts lol, lots of lady_ragnell too)

BALLET AU I LOVE YOU!!!!!! so set in the same universe as Beautiful Music Together, Combeferre ropes everyone into working on his opera, a Midsummer Night's Dream sequel. Grantaire dances as Puck alongside Enjolras singing as Oberon 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

In Defiance of all Geometry by idopathicsmile

51k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

this is a top fave E/R/C fic and a top fave les amis fic of all time! Them living in a co-op and all the little details of how they make it work is sooooo real and anyone who wants to see accurately written community organising in les amis fic it's here! now for the ✨romance✨ - Grantaire moves in to the amis co-op and starts crushing on both Enjolras and Combeferre, who have both been pining for each other for years.

Years Since It's Been Clear by lady_ragnell

10k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Enjolras offers his spare room to grantaire - or the one where enjolras chases the sun across the living room floor like a cat. That image has lived rent free in my head for and I am not exaggerating here, 10 years.

Gonna need (a spark to ignite) by FinditAgain*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

47k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

soulmate au! soulmate au with E/R/C!!!!!!! enjolras and combeferre are soulmates who lost their bond as children. when combeferre and enjolras find each other as adults, enjolras is already in an established relationship with grantaire 👀👀👀

secret agent man by goshemily

30k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes another cop one haha 😭 bc if ur not able to contradict urself with the media u like are u even a person? but also I wouldn't recommend if it wasn't a good read for the stairs scene alone 😅 Enjolras and Grantaire need to go undercover as a married couple in a small town.

Leaves in the Void by myrmidryad

16k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this is one i've found since rejoining tumblr late last year that 😭 fully broke my heart bro 😭 space au, enjolras writes letters to everyone when he's accidentally isolated on a ship for what to him was eight and half months but was two hours for everyone else.

Blame Delicate Artemis by hyenateeth

22k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

posting omegaverse on main? more likely than you think!

this is porn with a tiny bit of plot, but also one of my fave for femslash e/r and also..... girl dick. that's all.

omega enjolras alpha grantaire canon era lesbians.

that's enough description to find its right audience I feel

Eyes to Serve, Hands to Learn by myrmidryad

94k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Grantaire runs into Enjolras at a kink club. enter 94,000 words of bdsm porn and pining. mostly dom Enjolras and submissive Grantaire, mostly.

Never Be Satisfied by torakowalski

15k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

dental dam mention! win!

Grantaire gives Enjolras some advice, lends some toys, and then offers some hands on help when she learns Enjolras has never come before 😏

potentially lovely, perpetually human by myrmidryad

20k words

not rated, does contain smut

Enjolras/Grantaire

lots of myrmidryad here too lol

two of my favourite tropes here. 1: supernatural Enjolras who's in control of his abilities except when it comes to Grantaire (see cupbearer series) and 2: nonbinary Grantaire my beloved!!! Enjolras has psychic empathy triggered by physical touch, so he refuses to touch anyone: until his touch starved ass accidentally touches Grantaire and feels what they're feeling 🥹

Witchboy by tothewillofthepeople

series, 8 works

84k words

rating: T, M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this one is a more recent recommendation that I loved, the world building and magic is so good, there's some great background eposette and patron minette which I'm always a fan of.

i'm not the moon (i'm not even a star) by serinesaccade

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

amnesia fic and fake dating 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 this time we've got Grantaire losing his memories and waking up in a world where he has a really hot boyfriend, but apparently his 1.5 year relationship with Enjolras isn't what it seems 👀

and let's round this out with a classic

Thirty-Two Times by Ark

7k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

the bottom R canon era bible 🙏🏻

i'm sorry i feel like my emoji use is very millennial. jsyk 👌🏻 is me clicking with my nails ok bye 😘

if you want more i'm whorejolras on ao3 go nuts 🙌🏻

[shadowynn]

| the paradigm complex | three |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

genre: yandere!vampire!cult!poly!ateez au

warnings: yandere behavior, some cursing, negative thoughts, cheating, toxic relationships, (like, um, things aren't really healthy here in anyone's relationship except for reader and felix. sorry.)

summary:

They'll do whatever you ask. Anything you need. Anything you want. It's yours. They'll fulfill your every desire and whim. Give you the life you had always dreamed about.

And in exchange, you wouldn't just give them your soul. Oh, no, They weren't demons. What good was your soul when your purpose was better served alive and well? Your soul was nice, sure, but it wasn't all they wanted. It wasn't all they needed. They needed your body, your mind. Your blood. You entirely. Every single fiber of your being would soon be theirs and theirs alone.

The moment you signed that contract, everything would change. For them and for you.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

word count: 8.3k

a/n: i'm sorry it took this long, but i think i finally got this where i want it to be. i'm also laughing at my past self for saying this wasn't going to be serious and not really a novel and more of a series of one-shots, and yet, here i am, writing a novel because apparently i can't write anything else. oops. but, seriously, i hope you all enjoy. and let me know if i missed anyone on the tags or if you want to be added/removed.

| two | three | four |

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stared at the open trunk of your car, wondering just how the hell you were going to get either box up to your new apartment by yourself. When you had ordered the new mattress and bedframe for your new place, you had been counting on Felix to help you move things in, but then he had called earlier stating he was sick and leaving you by yourself for the day.

You couldn’t blame him. Not when you knew he had been looking forward to this day almost as much as you had, eager for an inside look at The Paradigm and a possible peek at your future coworkers. But the timing of it all couldn’t have been worse for you, having already picked up your new furniture from the store by the time he had called you to let you know. If your situation had been normal, you could have just left them in your car until the following weekend, but you knew that would only put you in a worse situation. One where you might be forced to kiss your new life goodbye before it had ever even started. 

Knowing there was an elevator did give you a slight boost in confidence, and you thought you could very possibly get the box that contained your bed frame up to your place. The mattress, however, was a different story. Perhaps you might have been able to do it if you dragged it, but even then, you risked making a commotion and you didn’t want to accidentally damage anything in the endeavor either. The last thing you needed was to make a worse impression than you already had; the fact you had been late to your lease signing still haunted your mind despite Seonghwa’s insistence it was fine.

The only other option you could think of was to ask one of your future coworkers for help. Since you had signed the lease last Monday, you had been added to a group chat with the eight of them, each who had been nothing short of sweet and welcoming to you. And though there had been multiple offers of help extended your way, you hadn’t actually expected to take any of them up on it. You didn’t want to bother them on a Saturday afternoon, especially with such a late notice, but your fear of keeping the boxes in your car for another week only to risk your boyfriend seeing them far outweighed your fear of asking for help.

Running a hand through your hair and doing your best to ignore the anxieties that popped up from the thought, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and opened up the group chat. Your eyes briefly skimmed over the previous  messages, unable to keep your cheeks from tinting pink at their content, especially knowing the face behind each name.

They chatted often. Not enough to where your phone was always blowing up, but enough for you to see the clear bond between them, leading to many occasions of you feeling like you were an intruder, not quite familiar with many of their jokes or references. But just when you would begin to wonder if they had forgotten you were there, someone would direct the conversation your way, directly asking your opinion on the matter or apologizing on the behalf of someone else in the chat.

You scrolled past the messages that had come through on your drive over  as you hesitated - someone had borrowed one of Hongjoong’s jackets a few weeks ago and had yet to return it - fingers hovering over the screen for a few seconds as you wondered just how to word the message without sounding too needy. By the time you had come up with something and typed it out, you quickly deleted it before retyping something else before deleting and repeating the process all over a second time. This time however, you hit send before you could even think about talking yourself out of it and attempting to move in by yourself to avoid the anxiety asking for help always brought.

Your regret was immediate, and you quickly locked your phone up and slid it in your pocket to avoid seeing any responses the request might pull and wondering just what you were thinking. Your phone buzzed almost immediately, and you froze, wanting to pull it out, and yet, terrified all the same. When it buzzed once again a few seconds later, you slowly pulled it out, preparing yourself for the worst, but finding two acceptances instead. Jongho had been the first to respond with a short, but enthusiastic Me! while Mingi had followed a few seconds later, stating he was also free if an extra set of hands was needed.

There was relief in knowing you would be able to unpack your car this weekend, but the solution had come with its own set of problems. Not only did you still feel like an inconvenience for bothering them on the weekend, but you really didn’t know any of them at this point, and had yet to even meet either of the two who had offered to help you today face-to-face. From your previous experiences with each of them, you were confident you could get along well enough, but it would still be a while before you became comfortable enough around them that you didn’t always feel slightly on edge.

You sifted through a few of the other boxes and bags in your car as you waited for Jongho and Mingi to come, briefly checking your own appearance in your car’s rear view mirror. Now that you no longer needed your savings to rent a place of your own, you had been free to spend some of it on furnishing your new apartment and had spent the majority of the morning out shopping. Besides your clothing, books, and a few other belongings you couldn’t bear to part with, there was little you would be actually taking from your current place and you wanted this place to be as move-in ready as it could be by this time next week. And while you hadn’t gotten everything you needed, not quite having enough on hand to buy any other major furniture pieces besides a bed, you were able to snag some new towels, bedsheets, and enough dishware to get you started for the time being.

Your eyes glanced behind you every so often as you waited, looking out for the two who had stated they were on their way down once you had given them your location. You weren’t sure exactly what either boy looked like, but you did have a sneaking suspicion you would be able to spot them nonetheless. All you had to do was likely wait for the next two attractive strangers to leave the apartment building and you were sure to find them.

And though you did your best to not let your mind dwell there, you found yourself growing self-conscious of your own appearance, checking and straightening your hair up once more in the mirror. You had dressed simply for the occasion, putting your own comfort first, and merely pulling on a pair of joggers, cropped tee, and a jacket that you had since wrapped around your waist from the lingering summer heat. Before, you had at least tried to fit in with the higher class of the complex, but one brief look at the tenants who had just walked inside, and you were swiftly reminded of how much you stuck out here.

You didn’t have to wait too much longer. Just a few minutes later and you found you had been right in your earlier assessment. At the sound of the door opening behind you, you glanced back to find two men walking out, both equally as attractive as the others. The one on the left was tall, just as tall if not taller than Yunho had been, while the other was just a few inches taller than yourself. Something that had been said must have annoyed the shorter one, as he shoved the other as they made their way outside, but a smile was planted on each of their faces and the earlier action done playfully.

Upon seeing you standing by your car, both of their faces instantly lit up and the taller one was quick to wave. His smile was infectious, leaving you to follow suit with your own before returning his wave as well.

“You must be y/n.” It was the taller one who addressed you first as they drew close, holding out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Mingi.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mingi.” Now that you were close, you could see his hair was not black like you had originally thought, but a dark blue. that shone through in the fluorescent lights of the parking garage.

His smile nearly had you melting up close, instantly setting your nerves to rest as you took his hand. So, this was the other doctor who served at the complex, seemingly just as sweet and gentle as Yunho had been. And with his appearance just as young as the former, you wondered if the two had met in medical school. They definitely appeared around the same age as each other.

“I’m Jongho.” The other swiftly stole your attention, his smile just as endearing as the one before. All it took was one quick look and you were struck with the sudden urge to know just what it felt like to be hugged by him, all but craving to be wrapped up in his warm embrace.

“So, you needed some help moving things in?” Mingi asked, snapping the strange spell that had grabbed hold of you in that moment, a slight edge to his tone that surprised you. You turned your gaze back to him just in time to see the look he had given Jongho, not quite angry, nor was it quite frustrated either, but almost reprimanding. But a smile was quick to replace it when his gaze met yours once more, leaving you wondering if it hadn’t just been a trick of the light. 

“Yes,  sorry.” Your smile became bashful, once again embarrassed by having to ask for their help. “My friend was supposed to be here with me today to help, but then he came down with something and wasn’t able to make it, so thank you, truly, for your help. I really appreciate it.”

You ran your hand through your hair, wondering if you would ever feel completely at ease around any of them. You had no want for any sort of romantic relationship once you finally broke things off with your boyfriend the following week, but the strange attraction you felt towards each of them was enough to keep you on edge, leaving you flustered more often than not, all but craving to get in closer. 

“It shouldn’t take too long. I just needed some help with these two boxes,” you motioned to the two larger ones, inwardly cursing yourself. You had never had this problem before, not even with Haneul, who you had been silently crushing on since he had started working with you. “So, maybe just five or so minutes of your time and then you can return back to whatever it was you were doing beforehand.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re both more than happy to help.” Jongho waved your concern away, moving past you to grab the heavier of the two boxes. “Neither of us were up to anything important. We were just hiding out at Wooyoung’s place while he started prepping for dinner tonight, which he said you are more than welcome to come to as well, by the way.”

“Careful, that’s-” You barely registered the invitation to dinner, more concerned about helping Jongho with the box he was pulling out, but he lifted it with ease, “...heavy.”

You found it impossible not to stare, watching it awe as he shifted the box onto his right shoulder to help support the weight, and unable to keep your eyes from wandering over the muscles on his arms. You had struggled to lift the box into your car earlier, and yet, he had made it look like it was nothing.

Just how much did this guy workout?

“Careful, Jongho,” Mingi’s voice held a similar tone from earlier, breaking you out from your thoughts once more. You were acutely aware you had been staring at Jongho in that moment, and shifted your gaze away, but not before Jongho had caught your wandering eyes out of the corner of his own.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” He waved both of your concerns away, an innocent, yet almost smug smile on his face. 

Mingi didn’t seem nearly as amused, but his expression lightened when he turned to address you. “Don’t worry, I can get the other one if you don’t mind getting the doors.”

You nodded, watching in a similar awe as Mingi grabbed the box that contained your new bed frame with just as much ease as Jongho before. You knew you weren’t that strong, but you didn’t think you were that weak either. Sure, you didn’t go to the gym every day, or even every other day for that matter, but you liked to think you had some muscles from casually working out with Felix over the past few years when you had the time. 

It took you several seconds to comprehend Mingi’s request, body and mind not quite catching up to what was currently happening until Jongho called for you from further ahead. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze and grabbing a few bags from your trunk before running up to grab the door for Jongho before he reached it.

You didn’t have to direct either of them to your unit. Upon reaching the elevator, Mingi had pressed the button for the sixth floor before you could even think to say something and guided you effortlessly down the hall to where the door to your apartment lay.

“Where would you like us to put them?” Mingi asked as he slid past the door you held open and into the main room. “Upstairs?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”

It felt strange coming back here, once again in complete awe of the space around you. It was more than you could ever dream of, and completely yours. A fact you didn’t think would ever settle completely in your head.

“Hey, y/n, this is your bed, right?” Jongho pulled you from your thoughts, leaning over the banister of the lofted area to address you. “You want us to put it together for you while we’re here?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I can get it myself later.” You shook your head, waving his offer away. “I’ve taken enough of your Saturday as it is.”

“Trust me, neither one of us minds. And if I’m being honest, you’re really doing us a favor. Hongjoong was trying to rope us into running a few errands for him since we were free and I did not feel like driving around town all afternoon.” Propping his elbows up against the edge, he rested his chin down into his hands. “So, we are now your humble servants for the rest of the afternoon, ready and willing to do whatever you need of us.”

He winked, and you hoped he couldn’t see the blush that tinted your cheeks as you turned your head away and used all your current brainpower to come up with a proper response.

“C’mon, while Jongho starts putting the bed frame together, why don’t you and I get the rest of the stuff from your car?” Mingi didn’t seem to have any reservations about Jongho’s former statement as he came back down the stairs, motioning with his head for the two of you to head back out. “And then we can help him finish when we’re done.”

He didn’t wait for you to agree, leaving you no choice but to follow after him and accept their offer of help.

“So, how long have you lived here?” You asked once the two of you had made it back down to your car, shuffling around some of the boxes to have a better grip.

“I’ve been here since The Paradigm opened,” Mingi replied, taking the heavier boxes from your hands and leaving you with just the new bedsheets and towels to carry. “Hongjoong and I have known each other for a long time, so when he introduced a new business venture he was interested in, I signed right up. The rent was free and it certainly beat the long shifts at the hospital.” He shrugged, closing your trunk for you now that it was empty. “What about you? Have you always lived in the city?”

You shook your head, readjusting the bags in your hands to open the door for the two of you. “I grew up in a pretty rural area up north, but moved down here for college, so I’ve only been in the city for about… three years now, I think.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“City life definitely has its pros and cons, and for the most part, I really do love living here, but I don’t know,” you shrugged, “sometimes it’s just a little overwhelming being in such a big place all on your own.”

“You’re by yourself?” Mingi’s head tilted, surprised by your words. “I’m sorry, I just assumed you had been living with someone else.”

“Well, you’d be right about that. I pretty much moved in with my boyfriend as soon as I arrived, but,” you paused, unsure how exactly to word your current situation, “I guess I've always felt like I was still all by myself.”

“Is that why you’re getting a new place?” 

You shook your head. “We’re actually breaking up, so I was in need of a new place to stay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but it’s really for the best.” It was hard to meet Mingi’s eyes as you waited for the elevator, fingers nervously fidgeting with the bags in your hands. “The two of us might have been fighting the inevitable for a while, but it’s really something that’s been coming for a long time now, and honestly, as terrified as it makes me being out on my own again, I’m also relieved to finally be able to get away.”

“And why’s that?” It was hard to place Mingi’s expression. He was empathetic towards your situation, that was obvious, but there was something else there. Something more than the vague curiosity he presented alongside it. 

You could feel your body freezing up on you, wondering if it was appropriate to dump all your past trauma on someone you had just met, but Mingi felt nothing but genuine next to you. His gentle nature all but encouraging you to tell him what was on your mind.

“Well, let’s just say the guy has never learned how to keep it in his pants.” The words rolled out with ease, prompting you to continue. “And I know, I’m an idiot for staying with him through it all this time, but each time I talked to him about it, he truly seemed sorry and willing to change, and it’s not like I had anywhere else to go.” 

Your words trailed off, feeling self-conscious over your past attempts. It was so easy to see how foolish you were now. To see how you should have left. To see how anyone in their right mind would have left, and yet, you hadn’t. You had allowed him to convince you to stay each and every time, fully believing everything would work out. 

You tugged the bags you were holding closer to your chest, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant in that moment. As much as you knew the problem lay with him and not yourself, you still fought against the lies that told you it was your fault, that if you had only been better, none of this would have ever happened. He would have never cheated on you; you would have never gotten yourself hurt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump that all on you.”

“I don’t mind. After all, it’s not good to keep feelings all bottled up inside and if it makes you feel better, I can listen to you rant about him as long as you need.” Mingi’s shoulder bumped against your own as the elevator came to a stop, and you could see his smile reflecting in the doors as they opened, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes this time around. “But I can’t help but feel a little concerned over the fact you’re still living with him over this next week. Are you sure that’s safe?”

“It’s not ideal, sure, but it’s not like I have any other choice. I would have loved to move in as soon as I had signed the lease, but he knows where I work and he would have just come in one day and convinced me to change my mind. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be.” You could feel your body tensing, not quite comfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. It was uncomfortable to talk about this side of your past, embarrassing to see just how easily you had allowed him to manipulate you. “But it’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been with him for the past three  years, so I can do one more week as long as he doesn’t catch on that I’m leaving. And despite his cheating ways, he’s never done anything to hurt me. Well,” you frowned, instantly taking note of the lie you had just spoken, “not physically, at least.”

You drove the conversation to its end as you made it back to your apartment, motioning for Mingi to set his boxes on the kitchen counter for now. And while you made your way upstairs to check on Jongho and leave the conversation completely, Mingi excused himself out into the hallway to make a quick phone call once he remembered he had forgotten to list a few of the supplies he had needed Hongjoong to pick up during his time out.

“You want some help?” 

Jongho had made some progress in your absence, the majority of the pieces scattered around him in the relative shape of a bed, and you couldn’t help but feel partially guilty for leaving him to do the task for you when it was your bed frame. 

He nodded, motioning for you to come over. “If you could hold this together for me real quick, that would be great.”

“Of course.” 

You matched his smile as you settled down on the ground beside him to take hold of the pieces he was talking about, and it didn’t take long for you to become aware of how close the two of you were in that moment. Especially, when he leaned in closer to screw together the two pieces you were holding for him.

“Once again, thank you.” You spoke after a few minutes, hoping to alleviate some of the tension you felt from being so close to him, and hating how on edge he made you. It was the same way with the others, and yet, it was distinctly worse around some than others. Jongho’s presence fell towards the latter, and you had a much harder time keeping a grip on your thoughts and emotions around him than you had with Mingi, and yet, one look at both of them was enough for all your solid reasoning to leave your body. “I really appreciate your help.” 

“It’s no problem at all,” Jongho replied, arm brushing up against yours. “Like I said earlier, you’re really doing us a favor in return. We were looking for an excuse to be busy until dinner tonight.” 

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned Wooyoung was making dinner for you. That’s very sweet of him.” You thought Jongho might have mentioned Wooyoung had also extended an invitation towards you, but didn’t want to make any assumptions in case you had heard him wrong, distracted by the show of strength of the boy next to you.

“He’s just about the only one of us who’s actually any good at cooking. Well, Seonghwa’s pretty decent as well, but he doesn’t enjoy it the way Wooyoung does, nor is he as willing to share with the rest of us. Woo usually hosts a dinner once or twice a week, but you’ll definitely have to watch out for him,” Jongho continued. “Baking is pretty much that man’s love language and he’ll load you with more goods and sweets then you’ll know what to do with.”

“Oh, well, if that’s how he is, I guess it’s a good thing I have a sweet tooth.”

The words were out before you could stop them, and it took you a few seconds to realize just what you had said and how it might have sounded, especially the chuckle it had pulled out of Jongho. You hadn’t meant anything by it, but as you quickly ran through the words in your head once more, you began to question what exactly Jongho had meant by his statement and if it hadn’t been as innocent as you had first believed. Especially when he was quick to quip back, “You’re not the only one.” 

And was it your imagination, or had he shifted closer to you than necessary? Leaning forward into you as he reached around your body to tighten the piece he had you holding. 

Thankfully, you were saved from responding when Mingi came up the stairs behind you, though the way he cleared his voice to announce his presence didn’t make you feel any better from the position Jongho had taken around you.

“Fucking hell, Mingi.” Jongho’s string of curses was almost too low to hear, leaving you once again wondering what exactly was going on around you as Jongho straightened back up. His eyes rolled, agitation once again lining his features, or at least you thought it had. One blink and the look was gone, replaced with another innocent expression as he motioned to his left hand. “Sorry, cut myself.” His hand rose to his mouth, briefly sucking on the end of his middle finger to get rid of the blood that had begun pooling on the tip.

You averted your eyes, shaking your head in an attempt to clear it and wondering just what was up with you today. Perhaps you were simply coming down with whatever illness Felix had. You had seen him the day before, after all, so you very well could have caught it from him then; the beginning of a fever clouding your mind and judgment. And yet, your forehead felt cool to the touch when you brushed the back of your hand against it despite the heat that flooded you.

Things calmed down once Mingi joined the two of you, helping you finish putting the bed frame together. Once it was completed, you directed them to where you wanted it to lie before unboxing your mattress and allowing it time to air out before tugging on the set of sheets you had bought. 

By the time you were all done, it was nearly five and you were far more exhausted than you expected to be, especially knowing you had the opening shift tomorrow morning. You were supposed to be working it with Felix, but now you weren’t so sure since he had come down with something. You didn’t really have any qualms with the rest of your coworkers, nor with your managers, but working with Felix was always a lot less exhausting than working a shift with anyone else.

“Thank you again for helping me out,” you said as you made your way back downstairs, rolling out the kinks in your back. “I really appreciate all your help and I don’t mean to seem rude, but I should probably get ready to head back to my place soon.” 

“You’re not going to stay for dinner?” Jongho asked, seemingly disappointed as he reminded you of the offer he had extended towards you earlier in the day. 

“Oh, right.”

You had forgotten about the invitation until now, and quickly debated over what you should do. On one hand, you were exhausted and craved an evening to yourself, but on the other hand, you didn’t want to seem rude and turn down the offer either. It would be good to get to know them and the others a bit better, and if you wanted everything here to go smoothly as possible, it would be best to get on good terms with each of them.

“If you’re sure I wouldn’t be interrupting anything, I’d love to join you, but I probably can’t stay too long. I have work tomorrow morning and a fairly long drive back to my place.”

And with reassurances your presence was more than welcomed, you followed them out of your apartment and down to the floor beneath yours where Wooyoung’s own unit lay. The door was unlocked, and neither boy even bothered knocking and made their way inside as though it was their own apartment. You followed behind a bit more hesitantly, slipping off your shoes at the doorway and pushing them to the side. 

The layout to Wooyoung’s place was vastly different from yours, having actual bedrooms towards the back instead of a lofted studio like your own. A large kitchen was directly to your right, which then flowed directly into a small dining room with a view of the city behind it, while the living area was to your left. 

Wooyoung was busy in the kitchen upon your arrival, and you could faintly make out two figures sprawled out on the couch playing what looked to be Super Smash Bros. 

“Oh, y/n, you came!” 

Wooyoung was the first to notice your presence, but one mention of your name was all it took for the game on your left to pause and the two seated there to give you their attention as well. Now that their heads were turned towards you, you were able to see it was Yeosang and San seated there.

“Thanks for having me over, and for dinner too.” You returned his smile, shuffling awkwardly at everyone’s attention. “I’ve heard a lot about your cooking and can’t wait to try it.” And if it was anything like the cookies you had earlier in the week or the smell wafting from the kitchen, you knew it probably matched up to the hype.

“Well, unfortunately you’ll have to wait another hour or so before it’s ready and everyone else gets here,” Wooyoung turned as the timer on the oven went off, “but feel free to make yourself at home in the meantime and just let me know if you need anything.”

“Hey, y/n, we have plenty of controllers if you want to join.” Before you could thank Wooyoung, you were being waved over by San and Yeosang, the former waving a controller your way.

“Sure, I’d love to,” you politely excused yourself from Wooyoung as you were guided over to the living room by Mingi, “though I must warn you, I’m not very good. I never really got any of the combos down, so I’m usually just button mashing and hoping for the best.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the only one,” San replied, motioning to the spot between him and Yeosang on the couch and handing you a controller when you had sat down. “Even the bots can beat Yeosang.”

“May I remind you that we only switched to this game because you got tired of me kicking your ass in Mario Kart.”

“Don’t feel too bad, I’m even worse at that game.” You giggled as Yeosang ended the game he and San had been playing, loading up a new preset for the rest of you to join. “Thankfully, though, I can always do pretty decent in Mario Party. Which is kind of sad, but I’ll take what I can get.” 

“Well, we have that too if you want to switch.” Yeosang replied, but you shook your head, not wanting to ruin their fun. 

“No, this is perfectly fine with me. I might be terrible at it, but I still enjoy playing.” You contemplated which character you were going to pick as you spoke. You had thought about starting with Link, but upon seeing Mingi get to him before you, you decided to just go with your other go-to for the first round.

“Sephiroth, huh?” Yeosang was the first to remark as you solidified your character.

“Mmhmm.” You shifted in your seat, pulling your legs up to your chest as you nodded. “Final Fantasy and Zelda were pretty much my childhood growing up, so I usually tend to orient towards those characters. Well, them and Joker. I never really got into the Persona games like my friend Felix, but I do love his aesthetic.”

It took you a few rounds to get back into the swing of things, having been several months since the last time you had played. You rotated between characters as you went, going from Shiek to Joker and then back to Sephiroth, but it was clear you were nowhere near the level of the others. Occasionally you would beat Yeosang, and even once managed to outlast Mingi, but on most occasions you would be the first one dead, proving your lack of skills for the game.

After a few more games, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself to go check on Wooyoung and feeling a little guilty from all the work he was doing by himself while you played. You weren’t much of a cook yourself, at least not on the level he was, but surely there was something you could do, even if it was just keeping him company for the time being.

He lounged against one of the counters, head buried into the phone he held. As his eyes scanned the small screen, a frown worked its way across his features and his fingers danced across the screen to form a reply to whatever had upset him.

“Can I help with anything?”

His head whipped up at your soft approach, and whatever had upset him was quickly replaced with a smile. With one last glance at his phone, he pocketed it and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Everything’s pretty much ready , so we’re really just waiting for the others to make it back. Hongjoong had some errands to run and it seems they had to make a few detours on their way back, so they’re running later than expected. Can I get you anything to drink in the meantime, though?”

“Water if you don’t mind.”

You took a seat at the island counter as Wooyoung fetched your drink, wondering if you would ever get used to living like this. If you would ever get used to living here at The Paradigm. Despite knowing you now had your very own place one level above, you couldn’t help but feel like it was all some hazy dream. That you would finally wake up and realize nothing had changed because you knew how crazy this whole situation was. It was just too good to be true, and yet, here you still were, seemingly still wide awake.

You chatted idly with Wooyoung as you waited, munching on a small snack he had given you when you had accidentally let it slip that you hadn’t eaten anything all day. You hadn’t meant to skip lunch, but it had just slipped your mind with everything else going on. Yeosang joined the two of you shortly after, giving video games a rest for the night after being severely beaten once more.

The others arrived shortly after, just as the sun was starting to set. You couldn’t help but grow slightly more on edge at their appearance, fully aware of Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s position above you in your new job, but it didn’t take long to ease back into a more relaxed state. Well, as relaxed as you could be around them.

Yeosang and Wooyoung kept their positions beside you, while Hongjoong took up the empty bar stool beside you. As you ate, you spoke of your childhood, your family, as well as your interests and how you had ended up in the city. You were aware of the way the attention seemed to be directed towards you, but any time you attempted to direct the conversation elsewhere and ask them about themselves, it didn’t take long for the conversation to drift its way back to you once more. You didn’t mind, not really, having nothing to hide about your past, but you couldn’t help but feel a little bad and hoped they didn’t think badly of the fact you were doing the majority of talking.

It didn’t take long for you to lose track of time, your phone laying forgotten beside you on the counter. It wasn’t until you looked outside and saw the sun had long set that you were suddenly reminded of the fact you still had a long drive back to your apartment. You grabbed your phone to check the time, barely recognizing it was much later than you had anticipated when you noticed several missed calls and a few texts from Felix alongside a message from your manager.

“Is everything alright?” Hongjoong was the first to take note of the confusion that crossed your features as you scanned over the text from your manager, the source of Felix’s concern.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s good. It’s just…” Your words trailed off, trying to make sense of what she had sent you and understanding why Felix had now been trying to get a hold of you. “Do you mind if I go make a call real quick?” You excused yourself from the bar, making your way out of the apartment and out into the hallway for some privacy as you returned Felix’s call.

“Jesus, y/n, do you know how badly you just scared me?” Felix didn’t even bother with a greeting, leaving you cringing as you realized exactly what sort of state he was in. “Don’t tell me that fucking bastard found out you were moving.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” You frowned, understanding how it must have looked from his side, and yet just as lost as he was over the whole situation. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Lix, I really didn’t mean to, but to be honest, I’m just as confused as you are. For some reason Hana texted me an hour ago saying not to bother showing up to work for my last few shifts. I texted her back asking why or if I had done something, but all she’s said is that she just got someone else to cover me.” 

“Wait, so she just took you off the schedule and said not to bother finishing up?” 

“That’s what it looks like.” You took a screenshot of the conversation with your manager, sending it over to Felix to show him exactly what had been said. “I mean, I guess I don’t really mind. It’s not like I need the money now, but I just don’t understand why she did it without asking me first. You don’t think I did something do you? Something that might have made her mad?” 

You had never had any problems with Hana before. Sure, you had your shared frustrations towards the way she managed the store occasionally, but the two of you had always gotten along, at least you thought you had. She had always seemed to appreciate your work ethic and she had never expressed any concern towards you before. But what if something had happened? What if she had overheard one of your conversations with Felix about you wishing you could just finish up this job and move on with your life and had gotten upset over it?

“No way, you were Hana’s favorite, so maybe she just wanted to give you a break.” Felix replied, pushing back any anxieties that had popped up from it. “You’ve covered a lot of shifts for her in the past, so maybe she just wanted to repay the favor here in the end, especially knowing how excited you are.”

“I don’t know.” You leaned back against the wall behind you, still trying to run the situation over in your head. Because of the delicate position you were in, you had only simply told her and your other coworkers you were moving. The only one who knew exactly where was Felix. “Maybe.” 

“Well, regardless of what or how it happened, it looks like you now have the week off, so what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” In all your confusion over what had happened with your schedule, you had yet to even think about what that meant for you or what you might be able to do with it. “I guess I could move in early now, but…” You paused, the weight of the situation hitting you. You had known all along what was happening, and yet, it had never quite hit you like it did now. 

“But, what? Don’t tell me you're getting second thoughts about it all again, because if you are, I will drive over to your place right now and drag your ass out of there whether you want me to or not.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” At least you didn’t think it was. You wanted to leave, you did, but why did it suddenly scare you so much? “And I’m not even there right now, so your drive would be wasted.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still unpacking, are you?” You could hear the pity in Felix’s voice, fully aware he still felt terrible for having to bail on you earlier in the day.

“Oh, no. I got some help from Mingi and Jongho and we finished up hours ago.” You quickly waved his concern away. “It’s just that I got invited to dinner and lost track of time.”

“Dinner?” You didn’t have to see Felix to know what expression had crossed his face, and you did your best to hide your blush  regardless of the fact you couldn’t see each other.

“No, it’s not like that at all. I guess Wooyoung hosts dinners occasionally, so I just got roped into going as well.” Your body shifted, growing uncomfortable by the inclination his voice had held and lowering your voice. “There’s absolutely nothing going on and they’re just being friendly, Lix. Just friends hanging out with friends, nothing more.” 

“Well, at least for now.”

“Oh, come on Felix, it’ll never come to that and you know it.” And despite the teasing tone his voice had taken, you could feel yourself beginning to sink into yourself, realizing how stupid it would be to ever think otherwise. “I don’t doubt that most of them are already in a relationship, and even if they’re not, they wouldn’t be interested in me. I mean, why the hell would they?” 

“Well, if you ask me, they’d be dumb not to be.” Felix’s voice softened. “I mean, if I swung that way, I’d snag you right up before anyone else could have a chance to steal you. You’re the ultimate package, n/n. You’re sweet, kind, smart-”

“You’re only saying that because you’re required to as my best friend.”

And he had to be, didn’t he? After all, how could you believe something like that when everything in life had told you otherwise? The only person to ever express an interest in you before had swiftly shown you weren’t worth it and continued to tell you so for years. He had proved  that there was something wrong with you, because otherwise, he would have cared enough about you to not break you completely.

“I know it might be hard to believe it at times, but you are worth it, y/n, truly. And one of these days you’ll finally meet someone who will help to teach you that, but for now, you’ll just have to take it from me. And I promise you, I’m not saying any of this because I’m required to, but rather because I believe it.”  

“Oh, Felix.” You wiped your eyes, brushing away the tears that had fallen and biting back the apology that fell at the tip of your tongue. You had had this conversation or similar ones enough in the past to know Felix would only immediately refute it, saying there was absolutely no need to apologize. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” You repeated the words you had said to him so often, truly wondering why he had ever decided to become your friend with all the baggage that came with you. In all the time you had known him, he had been a bright light in your life and a steady force that had gotten you through some of the roughest times in your life.

You talked for a minute longer to help lift your spirits back up, confirming with Felix that you were in a fit state to drive and would head back to your boyfriend’s place for the night and start packing up so that you were ready and gone before he came home tomorrow night. You strayed in the hallway for a bit longer once the call was over, attempting to get your emotions under control once more and prayed that your eyes weren’t red from crying. 

Taking one last breath and doing your best to compose yourself, you made your way back into Wooyoung’s apartment to thank him, Mingi, and Jongho one last time before heading back for the night. 

“Everything alright?” Hongjoong was the first to address you at your return, but you shook off his concern as best you could, fully hoping the smile you wore met your eyes.

“Yeah, it was just some stuff that came up with work.” Your hands fiddled with the end of your jacket’s sleeves, shuffling awkwardly at the eyes that watched you. “Apparently my manager found someone to take the rest of my shifts for the week and was just letting me know.”

“So, you’re now done?” Mingi asked, turning from his conversation at the table with Yunho to address you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll still need to drop a few things off sometime this week, but I’ll probably do that sometime tomorrow after I’m done packing.” You paused for a moment before continuing, hoping you wouldn’t make things awkward by leaving directly after the phone call. “Which I have quite a bit to do now in a short amount of time, so I should probably go ahead and leave for the night-”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hongjoong asked, stopping you from heading back to the door when he took hold of your wrist. “You did have quite a bit of wine earlier, and I don’t think it would be safe for you to drive.” 

“What are you talking…?” Your head tilted, confused as to what he was talking about. You hadn’t drank anything tonight because you had known you would be driving back home. You had made sure of it.

And yet, now that you thought about it, you weren’t so sure. You didn’t think you had drank anything, but then why was there an empty wine glass next to your plate alongside the faintest memories beginning to pop up of you drinking it. Hadn’t Wooyoung offered you a glass before dinner had begun, and you had accepted thinking it would be fine if you drank it early enough?

God, how could you have forgotten you had been drinking? Were you really that drunk that you had completely forgotten what you had been doing? And how could you, when you could so clearly feel the effects of the alcohol in your system now, leaving you unsteady on your feet. What had you been thinking earlier? You were in no state to be driving. Not when you were now struggling to stand on your own two feet.

“Right, um…” You struggled  to get your thoughts together, suddenly aware of how hot it was in there. 

“Woah, you okay there, pretty?” It was Yeosang behind you who spoke, grabbing hold of your shoulder to help steady you when you attempted to take your jacket back off, the action leaving you stumbling forward.

He, alongside Hongjoong, who still had a hold on your wrist, used their grip on you to guide you back down to your seat, leaving your vision racing momentarily. When your eyes managed to focus once more, you saw Hongjoong leaning over you, his close presence doing little to calm your racing thoughts, and only serving to scramble them more than ever. And as you looked up into his eyes, all your mind could focus on was how breathtakingly beautiful he was alongside the deep yearning to feel his lips pressed against your own.

“Why don’t I take you back to your room?” His hand brushed the hair out of your eyes, expression painstakingly sweet. “And then maybe we can go over and help you pack the rest of your stuff in the morning when you’re in a better mindset, yeah?” 

You didn’t hear exactly what he had said, your brain too scrambled to comprehend what exactly was going on, but you nodded your head in agreement anyways, ready and more than willing to do whatever it was he asked of you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglists in reblogs :)

[daryascurse]

𝙿𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝙿𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚄𝚜 | 𝙺𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙷𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

You open and close your mouth, feeling that sudden dryness of panic at his unmoving stature. “I’m…” you pause again, and laugh, nervously. “I’m sorry. You can… you can absolutely leave if you want to.”

Kakashi shoves his hands in his pockets, tilts his head as he looks at you. His lips are swollen from your kisses, and you raise your fingers slowly to your mouth, tinging and sore, wondering if yours look the same. “I should leave,” he says at last, and your hand falls back to your lap. “I shouldn’t have come inside.”

“I know,” you whisper, the back of your ears burning. You have to stop. You’ll have to stop writing. You’ll have to destroy every last paperback and manuscript. Your breath catches in your throat.

“But,” Kakashi says, as he pulls his hands from his pockets again. Restless. His fingers are just barely trembling. “I don’t want to go.”

ɴꜱꜰᴡ | ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ | repost from my old acct

pov : second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns, takes place between naruto + shippuden ✧ tags: friends to lovers, teasing, thigh riding, oral, sex ✧ word count: ~5.8k ✧ ao3 link ✧ recommended mood playlist: vanilla cake

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Some things are better left unspoken; and on the contrary, some things are better said via a certain medium. It’s better to write some things, it’s better to scream others. The question of “better” is, of course, up to interpretation.

For example, perhaps your half-unintended method of seducing Kakashi Hatake would be better – faster, more straight-forward – if you told him you were the secret author of his latest pulp paperback novel obsession.

“Just admit it,” Kakashi says, and he shakes the binding in your face. You lean back and laugh, something momentarily gleeful and genuine from the belly, before forcing the corners of your lips into a more subdued smile. But his eyes are trained on yours, doggedly undeterred even among the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. “I know it’s you, I just know it.”

There would be no shame in admitting it, as overdramatic and lurid as these novellas are. In these months of uneasy peace, everyone’s had time to breathe, stretch, cultivate new activities. Without Jiraiya to pump out pulp novels, Kakashi’s turned to browsing bookshelves to fill his newfound free time with a new series, just as you’ve turned to scribbling daydreams and wet dreams onto paper. You’ve never been able to hide your delight completely, from the first day at the bar where you had encountered him with the thin volume in hand. Here sits Kakashi Hatake, reading porn all on his lonesome. You might have crowed that to the rest of the group - and confided only in your best friends, those who already knew of your intentions, who would seal their lips if he asked them for the truth.

For there’s something delicious in the secret held over Kakashi. There’s a sweet joy in constantly challenging him, watching him shake, the peaches of an embarrassed flush rise over his cheeks.

“And I wonder why you think that,” you breathe, adjusting your grocery bag over your shoulder, feet still pointed homewards bound as you had been before Kakashi had chased you down in the square. “Do I give off the impression that I spend my days only dreaming of such adult things? It’s not appropriate to think of your friends that way.”

The look in his visible eye is almost painful, flashing down, as he lowers the thin book. “It’s not,” he says.

That look gives you such a thrill.

You reach with your free hand, snatching the novella from him. “Well, let me see just what your impression of my mind’s creation would be. ’If anything is going to make me overheat, I want it to be you…’”

“Not out loud,” Kakashi says, his heavily lidded eye closing in embarrassment. Here comes the blush.

“That’s fine, I’m heading home. This is interesting, are the characters at a hot spring?”

You hold the book away from him and continue walking and reading, mindful of your volume. Kakashi walks alongside you in quick strides, but you move your hand away from him with remarkable ease, and over-exaggerate your words with a light, breathy tone that strikes truer than he knows.

“Let’s see. The first time she had seen him standing in the pools of hot spring water, it had made her thighs shake. She imagined his fingers curling right between them, dripping with the arousal that his presence alone was already pulling from her, and flexed her fingers at the thought of raking them through his thick hair and digging down his back.”

The words do make you shiver even as you read them, knees turning into each other as you pick up your pace. They had indeed been written with Kakashi in mind, with that memory of a long ago vacation, and you pause at the visceral memory of seeing him momentarily in the pool when the men’s room curtain swung open in the wind. The temptation goes through you, Orpheus on the side streets, to turn and watch his reaction to your breathy rendition of the pages. When you’d written this short story, as every other in the anthology, you had closed your eyes and squeezed your legs together and dreamed of his own first reaction to these words. A pity all you can do is fantasize.

But fuck, it’s thrilling to experience how he asks every time the bookstore churns out another shitty little pulp novel, and you have the supreme, smug pleasure of laughing it away with a wave and a grin in his direction that lasts jut a little too long.

“Oh, I’d love to go to the bathhouse,” you say brightly. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten everyone together, isn’t it?”

“I know it’s you, and I know you wrote it about me,” Kakashi says, and his tone is indecipherable as he ignores your digs. You study the pages as you turn up your walkway. Kakashi’s finger follows, skimming over the words before jabbing at a specific line. “This.”

“She studied his face, and raised a hand to his cheek. Her fingers turned, dragging water down his jaw, thumb gentle over the border of his scar and to the beauty mark besides his lip.”

Oh, ohh.

You turn your gaze up to Kakashi as you unlock your front door, and plaster a curious, sweet look on your face, lips slightly pursed to hide the twitch of your mouth. “What makes you think it’s me? Why do you want it to be me?”

It’s hard to read his expression now. Frustrated, maybe? And you chew the inside of your cheek as you remember, that glimpse at the bar long ago, so, so long ago, the sight of his beautiful face just for an unforgettable moment.

And Kakashi can’t give his thoughts away either. He sighs and shakes his head, taking a step back, as if physically restraining himself. “Don’t make me look like an idiot,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “And isn’t it a little egotistical of you to imagine your face behind the mask of the pages?”

It feels clever, and you allow yourself another smug, cat-like smile as you step in the foyer and kick your shoes off, shrugging the grocery bag off. Another publication, another delightful banter.

But Kakashi doesn’t leave your doorstep. You hesitate with a hand on the knob, the smile slipping.

“Kakashi,” you say, speaking gently. “Do you want it to be you and I?”

He looks away, and you recognize this posture – hands out of the pockets, shoulders back and bracing against the evening sun. He’s steeling himself. Keeping his heart sealed away.

You’ve seen him stand like this. When the youngest students, all currently vying for the newly-vacant position of chief troublemaker, cross the lines too drastically. When rumors of war fly, so fleetingly, over the village. And when you had, the first time, and every time, teased just a little too boldly over the crowded restaurants and markets.

It’s just the first time you’ve seen him so guarded and rigid on your account, and alone.

It gives… a strange confidence.

“Why don’t you come in?” you hear yourself ask, and you press the book close to your chest. “You can tell me your favorite part.”

“I can’t,” Kakashi says, and the simple words are loaded.

You turn your head slightly, leaning back against the wall. He can’t, he can’t.

And you can’t bear it.

You lift the book, turning the pages, and begin reading again.

“’This is why I didn’t want to come here,’ he said. She frowned, tilting her head as she made her way through the water, skimming against her legs with each step closer across the spring. ‘You didn’t want to take a bath with me after all? Then the way your body’s responding to being alone with me in the water is confusing.’”

You lift your eyes to him, still frozen in the doorway, as you begin to walk down the hall. The breathiness has long stopped being an affectation. You can’t keep it from intruding your own commentary.

“I guess it does remind me of how standoffish you are to me these days,” you say, “and it is confusing. You have time to read this junk, don’t you? Why don’t you have such time to spend with a friend?”

Kakashi finally steps inside, and you watch his fingers clench against the doorknob as he swings it shut. Shadow falls through the hall, and he remains silent. You clear your throat, and continue, lifting the book to find a gleam of evening light. As you read, you hear Kakashi’s shoes slide off, and his footsteps approach you.

“’You know there’s too much in the way,’ he said. He swallowed, sweat and steam of the hot springs condensing on his skin before he continued speaking. ‘Don’t make me say it.’”

The next part gives you pause, a thrill of genuine anxiety for a moment. You wonder if he’s read the entire story yet. And Kakashi’s stopped before you here at the end of the hallway. His expression is hidden in the shadow. Your grip on the book trembles.

“But he didn’t have to say it. The taciturn man with his beautiful face, so much more intimate to see bare than even his broad, chiseled body half-lapped by the water, was bound by duties, by honor, but primarily, by fear of this new avenue and what it could do to their delicately crafted friendship.”

You let the book rest open against your chest, leaning against the wall to stare at him. Kakashi looks back at you.

“Well, I can’t really imagine you speaking this way,” you say. You wanted to smile, throw some coy joviality into the words, but his hooded eye is so fixed on you as his hand lifts to the edge of his mask.

“Funny. Because you put the words right in my mouth.”

He tugs the fabric below his chin, and a beam of the setting sun flashes warm and golden across his face from the far window. You lift your free hand to him. The pages crash in your mind as your fingers follow the path of his cheekbone, grazing hesitantly against the slashed edge of his scar visible below the fabric still slung across the other eye, and thumb down to his lower lip. He’s just as beautiful as you remembered from that brief glimpse in the bar, and your thumb wavers, stroking gently against his skin.

Who’s to say who leaned in first? Your thumb slides off his mouth just before it meets your lips, and you drop the paperback carelessly to cup his beautiful face. His hands slide down to your waist to hold you in response. It really, you insist over and over in your own mind, even as the words wheel away into nonsense as Kakashi’s tongue moves into your mouth, wasn’t meant to be a sexual invitation today coming inside, it really wasn’t meant to be now of all times - but you aren’t pushing him away, aren’t slapping and recoiling as his hands roam.

He draws himself up as his body pushes you fully against the wall. Your eyelids flicker at the impact, the shift of pressure, the wild silver hair peeking over his ear and the rigidity of his broad shoulders. His fingers ghost, down among the curve of your waist, and you rock forward just enough in response. Your hands slide up from his chest, embracing his neck. His hands move to your hips in response, an experimental, slow, squeeze, and you moan back into his mouth in glad invitation.

“Oh…”

He squeezes again, harder, and the agitation of the gesture brings another jagged moan to your lips.

“You know,” he murmurs, and there’s a new, biting edge in his voice, “you know I want it to be you and I.”

You rock your hips in response, a knee bending forward to part Kakashi’s thighs. He steps closer, legs squeezing around yours, enough for you to lower yourself and roll forward again. Right where your body meets his leg, right where you begin to ride and rut back and forth, earns yet another shaky elated sigh. You close your teeth gently around his bottom teeth and tug, breaking the kiss.

“I… Kakashi,” you say, and the words catch in your throat before you can even think of what to say. You drop your hands to his chest, and you watch the heaving breaths below his vest for a moment before finding the strength to look him in the eye again. His lips are parted, the breath coming ragged. His hold on your hips is firm, thumbs stroking against the curve of your ass, and your legs tremble as you rut against him. Pretense, intentions, damn it all. Fuck it all.

“I’ve been keeping on the side of decency so well until now,” he says, and the familiar tone of light amusement is enough to make your panting breaths become a smile. You lean forward and miss his lips, kissing the side of his cheek, but let your hand fall to your hip and grab his, urging him off you just for a moment.

There’s an aching between your thighs when he slides his leg from between them, letting you step away from the wall and lead him just those few steps into the bedroom. You take backwards steps to the mattress, and tug at his hand, intending to pull him down with you, but he releases your grip just as you stumble down to the bed.

You open and close your mouth, feeling that sudden dryness of panic at his unmoving stature. “I’m…” you pause again, and laugh, nervously. “I’m sorry. You can… you can absolutely leave if you want to.”

Kakashi shoves his hands in his pockets, tilts his head as he looks at you. His lips are swollen from your kisses, and you raise your fingers slowly to your mouth, tinging and sore, wondering if yours look the same.

“I should leave,” he says at last, and your hand falls back to your lap. “I shouldn’t have come inside.”

“I know,” you whisper, the back of your ears burning. You have to stop. You’ll have to stop writing. You’ll have to destroy every last paperback and manuscript. Your breath catches in your throat.

“But,” Kakashi says, as he pulls his hands from his pockets again. Restless. His fingers are just barely trembling. “I don’t want to go.”

You hear your breath release, and you smile up at him again in relief.

“Then don’t.”

When you reach forward for him once more, your hands are shaking too, fumbling against his pants. Kakashi moves at the same speed, going for his vest, his fingers ascending out of your vision as you tug his pants down with growing impatience, desperation not to lose this moment so tenuous in your grasp.

He’s half-hard, stiffening against your fingers as you stroke gently along his shaft. You reach the base, soft silver hair curling around your thumb, and back up, long, and slow. You hear him suck in his breath, a shuddering exhale as he pulls of his vest, his hands knocking against your head as he goes for his shirt as well. The room suddenly feels warm, so much warmer.

He’s thick, even now, and you feel a warm quiver go straight through you at the thought of him fucking you with that cock.

You lean forward to take him in your mouth, lips spread wide, and you’re rewarded with another grunting sigh from Kakashi. You close your eyes, offering a slight moan of your own when you begin to suck at the head of his cock, tongue swirling around the head, dipping into that sensitive slit. His knees shake into your legs. When your tongue moves down, stroking along his shaft to work further, his hips begin to move slightly, moving his cock more into your mouth.

“Fuck,” and it comes guttural.

You shift on the bed, your posture poor, thighs rubbing anxiously together. The taste of Kakashi fills your senses, the weight of him heavy on your tongue and thick at the back of your throat. You moan, feeling your voice slide along him as you move your head back and forth, sucking him off faster, faster. His hand comes to the back of your head, holding himself steady as he actively stops himself from thrusting harder against you.

But you moan again and drop your jaw even further, trying to give him more. With one hand bracing hard against your knee, your splay your other across the base of his stomach, thumb stroking the underside of his cock. Your hold grows wet, sticky, so quickly.

Above you, Kakashi moans your name, and it sends another shudder through you down to your core.

The taste becomes bitter as his precum begins to leak, making your mouth water even more and cunt pulse harder in response. You hollow your cheeks, sucking in with as much strength as your sore lips and jaw can do. You take him deep to the back of your throat, his hair scraping at your bottom lip. You almost gag as you bob your head back. With a steeling breath as best as you can through your nose, already thick and running, you suck in your cheeks again and start to move lower.

He groans again, and his fingers curl around you; but rather than shove your face further against his body, his thumb pushes gently against the side of your head and he breathes, “No, no, stop.”

You slide your tongue along him as you pull off his cock, a string of saliva and glistening precum still connecting you to his throbbing head. He looks down at you, still stroking the side of your face as you lean away. “Not all the way, not yet,” Kakashi says. “Lie down.”

You lower your hands to the mattress, pushing yourself up along the bed, and Kakashi climbs atop you. His broad, muscular chest is bare, dimly pale in the light of dusk leaking through the window, but you can’t tear your eyes away from his face, from the wordless tempest in his gaze.

His hand traces down your chest, finding the fastening of your clothing, and you arch your back as you begin to roll your pants down as well. Kakashi abandons your shirt to help tug them free, a hand tight on yours stopping you from going for your panties. He wraps his fingers around your wrist, restraining your movement. He leans down and kisses your mouth as he squeezes and lets go.

“Let me,” he says, his voice rasping, and you sigh into his mouth.

His fingers slide down your body, tracing the curve of your hip and running along the band of your underpants. He breaks the kiss by traveling down; kissing your chin, your throat, your collarbone, as his knees shift, dipping the mattress as he moves. Restless, you prop yourself up on your elbows to shed the half-forgotten shirt, and when he doesn’t stop you again, move back for your bra before slowly melting back to the bed, panting under his touch.

Between your thighs, Kakashi places a hand on your inner leg and pushes gently. His strength moves you more than the volition of your own muscles, and you shiver at his fingers tensing in their hold. His other hand rises right to the front of your panties.

“Oh,” is all you can manage when his finger traces slowly along the fabric. He swirls, dips, lightly dancing along the indent of your folds, up and down again. Your inner muscles clench.

“You’re already wet,” Kakashi murmurs, and you choke out another shuddering sigh as his breath comes hot against the damp fabric.

He leans in, mouth brushing against your panties, and then teasingly to the side as he kisses the soft skin right at your inner thigh. His mouth opens, tongue swirling along you, before his teeth catch in a large, playful bite. It draws another weak, jagged moan from you.

“Are you growing impatient?”

That’s when it strikes you, through the hazy cloud of lust beginning to fog your coherence. Your eyes widen in a way that has nothing to do with the nuzzling of his lips back over the fabric of your panties – or at least, not completely - he’s quoting the fucking paperback.

You offer only another incoherent sigh, grinding your hips into the bed as the heat there between your legs begins to grow unbearable.

Kakashi’s fingers press against your thigh, moving closer to your panties, and you feel yourself throb harder, achingly so, as he begins to push at the edge of the fabric. He slips below, grazing against your folds. You shiver, and in response to the trembling of your thighs, Kakashi’s tongue comes rough, spreading thickly, right over your panties.

“Fuck!”

You rock your hips into the bed and whimper. Kakashi leans his face further against you. His tongue is spread flat and slow as it washes over you, then withdrawing, and coming back with a curl to dig right at the fold over your clit. His fingers probe again under the fabric, slipping down and running easily along the slickness of your slit until he comes to your entrance.

“Fuck,” you groan again, completely lost in sensation. Kakashi lifts his face, dragging down, upper lip wide and heavy over your soaked panties.

“You did ask my favorite part of the story,” he says huskily.

The words bring a twist, hot and desperate through your core, and you roll your hips in moaning response.

His fingers turn, and he finally grabs the panties in a fistful that pinches at your skin where the band digs in, tugging them to the side. You breathe raggedly as his tongue moves bare over you now, digging to find your clit. Your eyes roll again when he brushes teasingly right over it, back, and forth, before finally circling over it with intention. Begging for friction, your hips jolt, one leg sliding against the sheets, your abandoned entrance throbbing for attention.

“Please, more,” you breathe, and your hands reach down, pushing through the thick shock of hair to hold him close, scrambling down the back of his neck.

If you scratched him with wandering fingernails, Kakashi gives no indication of pain, but continues to work his tongue into you. Finally, finally, his fingers spread across your skin, wandering back to the area of neglect. The slick smears across you as he moves, toying with really, how wet you’ve become, and you moan and twist again. His index and middle finger, so nimble, so strong, rub along the curve of your thigh to your entrance, and gently pump into you – in, out, in again, just a little deeper.

“Kakashi,” is the next word that comes from your lungs, warm and heavy in the twilight air, and his lips close right over your clit. His tongue is insistent, his cheeks hollowed in a light suck, and you arch your back and wail at the pulsing heat beginning to move heady through you.

And then he lifts his face fully from you, your hands falling down to his broad back. He gently pulls away, your panties falling awkwardly, wet, across you. Your fingertips skim across his shoulders, down to his chest, as he sits up, leaving you aching, dripping, trembling, ripped away from the edge.

“No…”

“But it wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

Your face burns, the line from a novella published weeks past rolling across your brain. “What a mean friend you are,” you say, in teasing distraction as you pull your hands back, anxiously grabbing at each other.

Kakashi squeezes the inside of your thigh, smirking. “I thought we agreed this is wrong for friends regardless.”

In the dim light, he’s wild and beautiful. His hair sticks in every direction, the flush across his face spreading wide, lips and chin wet with your slick. And in his eye, caught right in that last beam of sunset, you can see a yearning hunger, something just stirring, far from finished.

He lifts his hand, and your eyes dance across his body to follow the movement. He grips his cock and shifts between your thighs, coaxing your legs further apart as he draws himself up to kneel. His other hand falls to your leg, this time stroking lower, along your calf. You gasp when his fingers flex, taking hold of your leg, and curls his hand to pull your leg upward over his shoulder.

“Ah…”

The strain in your muscle is almost painful, and Kakashi breaks into a smile, breath sucking between his teeth. You can feel him come right against your entrance, the curve of his thumb and clutches of his knuckles against your spread thighs, and the smooth round head of his cock at your folds. He moves it up, down, slowly nudging you apart. You moan again, feeling the heat rush from you, how your inner muscles pulse desperately, needing him. “Kakashi…”

His “Yes?” is just as breathy, his hand tight on your leg, his cock teasing you apart and coming lower, so close.

You arch your back, hips rolling into the bed, chest heaving with forceful air, unable to pull forth coquettish words, desperate for him to just – “fuck me!”

Kakashi groans, and just as the words slide from you, he thrusts at last inside you with a harsh snap of his hips.

It leaves you breathless, barely able to force out another moan, as he moves in you. Your foot strains over his shoulder, hips shaking as best they can in response. His pace is already rapid, brutal, deep, as he leans over you, a silver god of the twilight. Your hands flex, unable to reach for him so far away, and you let them fall to the side to snatch at the sheets.

The waiting, the teasing, the anticipation for so fucking long is worth it, because the way Kakashi fucks you into the bed with gasping growls between his teeth is so worth it that your body shudders at the sensation. When he feels it, he slides his hand along your leg and leans further into you, your muscles screaming in response. He stretches you, moving deep, and you take every bit of him in return. And oh, you knew it, you knew it would be this good, and you moan, elated.

He begins to slow his strokes gradually, that first, anxious desire satiated, but when you meet his eye, your vision rocking with the thrusts, the hunger still burns there. Sweat simmers across his forehead and beads at the edge of the forehead protector, eyelid heavy but gaze so firmly locked on you.

“More,” you whisper.

His arm tenses, the grip on your leg tight enough to bruise, and his face is unreadable as his free hand slides along the sheets. “More?” Kakashi says, jagged.

“Harder.”

Your chest rises and falls, your mind spinning, and he pulls out slightly, hesitating for a moment before slamming back in. It’s good, it’s still good, but you part your lips to beg again, and Kakashi’s hand reaches forward to grab a firm hold of your throat. Your breath comes in a choked hiss as he squeezes, elbow bent and heel of his palm hard against your collarbone. With his next strokes, he squeezes again, and you feel your leg go limp, his fingers slowly unwrapping from their tense hold against your calf.

“Oh…” If it’s possible for a sound to slur from you, that’s how it sounds to your ears, as everything aural and visual starts to fade.

He fucks you, and your head spins, seeing only him even as your vision begins to go static. Nothing resonates around you but Kakashi. Every inch of your skin prickles cold, even as the heat burns below your core. You reach with a trembling hand for him, feeling the iron muscle of his forearm, and grasp weakly at him, as it all comes dimmer and dimmer.

Your leg slides down along his arm, and you feel more than see when he pulls out, hand relaxing against your throat as he adjusts, kicking against you as he shifts out of the kneel. You strain to cough, and his fingers flex, release. His face, now shadowed in dusk, comes above you as you gasp, and move your hand to stroke your throat.

“Too much?” he asks, and you cough again as you shake your head.

“No,” you whisper, your limbs buzzing as you feel him between your legs.

Kakashi’s over you on all fours now, and when he lowers his face to kiss you again, it’s gentler than before, comforting, as if he didn’t believe you. His lips press against yours, warm, slow, as the blood begins to flow back through you with every burst of oxygen. Above your head, you feel his hand stroke gently at the side of your temple, the bed dipping as he leans on his forearm. His knee comes between your legs again, but without rush as his chest lowers completely to yours. Your heart hammers below his.

He kisses you like a lover.

Your voice is raspy when you murmur, “more, please,” against him.

Kakashi lifts his head from you, nudging his leg harder against yours as he begins to lower himself, free hand once more skating knuckles across your skin as he guides himself to your already sore and swollen entrance.

You lift your legs around him gladly as he sinks back in, another sigh shuddering from the both of you in harmony as he begins to move. These strokes build back to the speed he had so rapidly started driving at before, and it pushes in warm ripples through you. The sounds of his cock moving into you are lewd and wet, your cunt still throbbing and aroused even as he begins to pull you closer and closer to euphoria with each smooth thrust.

Kakashi begins to moan in your ear, filthy nothings, but you can barely hear above the rush of blood through your body; the rapid beat of your heart in your ears; the thrusts of his hips against yours that make you shake and melt even as you do your best to buck back in response. The sheer pleasure that shakes through you at his motions, the pleasure he brings, is just overwhelming, even as his words jaggedly break through with your name, broken compliments, half-formed curses.

“God… I’ve wanted…fuck… so pretty… you’re so pretty… fuck…”

He begins to pick up the pace again, his words beginning to slip into incoherence, and the bed shakes as the jolt of his strokes come stronger. Your inner thigh muscles ache, one foot hooked around his lower back as the other slumps to the mattress with the growing force of his slams.

You groan, shuddering, aching, and his name begins to roll from you again in sighs so guttural your throat aches anew.

“Kakashi!”

Your head dips into the bed as his forearm above you pushes harder. His other hand palms hard against your hip, coming away, and back again with a sharp slap against your flank that makes you yelp, eyes closing. Kakashi’s hand comes back, and this time curves below your leg to strain you up against the bed, finding a new angle that seems to hit even deeper.

This time you scream his name.

He moans in response, and you feel his lips on yours in another desperate, hungry kiss. His hips lift and slam you into the bed, his strokes growing shorter as he fucks frantically, closer and closer still to satisfaction. You whine into his mouth, clutching at his back, his shoulders, not caring now how wildly you may be scratching at him.

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and leans back, the hand at your head knocking harshly into you at the shifted movement, and in the silhouetted shadows, you can see the furrow of his brow and gritted teeth. Your hands fall lower down his back, nails dragging in their wake, and you wail as he comes closer, closer, throbbing and fast inside you. You twist your hips, squeezing, clenching, urging your climax forward as the heat begins to rush.

“I’m…. gonna…” you say, desperately, and the word falls into another cry as it comes. Your hands clutch around him as your orgasm hits, the sounds from your lungs broken and interrupted by the force of his strokes, nails scraping into him as the release comes in waves of delicious cramps. You can feel yourself clench around him, legs going limp, back arching as your limps long to collapse and writhe into the bed.

“Fuck!”

And within you, enough to make you tremble and make that orgasm dance out longer, you feel Kakashi slow, his cock so hard, thick, enough to split, and with one last push, he comes after you. His hips stutter, and it’s hard and hot through you. He grabs at the sheets and leans back into you, body firm, sweaty as his chest meets yours again, and urges through you. Only now do you allow yourself to fully let go, legs and arms limp, when he melts into you.

He murmurs your name, and the room is nothing but heavy breath for a moment. You blink into the darkness, eyes unable to focus on the ceiling, only making out the spiked shadows of Kakashi’s hair in your peripheral.

He rests against your shoulder, head in the hollow between your neck and body. You lift an unsteady hand to his back, and stroke gently, softly, down his sweat-beaded skin. The darkness is suddenly too silent. You swallow.

For all the dreams of before, you never thought much about the after. It’s where the pulp novels usually stop, anyway.

But here, having Kakashi lie in your bed, his breath hot against your neck, slick between your thighs and aching beginning to settle through your body, is no novel.

“Maybe I should check those books of yours out,” you say faintly at last. “If they’re so inspiring to make you give in like that.”

He laughs, exhausted. “Your books,” Kakashi says, his voice muffled between you and the bed.

You laugh as well, or as much as you can with his weight beginning to settle uncomfortably across your chest, and pause your caress against his back. “Are you still harping on about that?”

“I’ll prove it one day,” he insists, kissing the side of your neck before sitting up. Moonlight cascades over him now, as you haul yourself up as well.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Regardless,” he adds and reaches out. He catches the side of your face in his palm, and you lean to the side, keeping his hand against your shoulder as you stare dreamily at him, “I guess I can’t see the harm in helping a friend with her research.”

fin.

[aziraphales-library]

Factory Settings - fic rec

Factory Settings by Anonymous (T)

Crowley gets reinstated as an angel.

An insane 100k word ride that is a long, alternate version of S3 in my heart. The characterizations, writing and everything is so on point that it literally feels official in every way except formatting.

This was written in 19 days, but it's so masterfully crafted that I genuinely find it to be one of my favorite NOVELS of all time. The only fic I've ever actually downloaded just in case it gets lost for whatever reason. SO. MUCH. HAPPENS. IN THIS FIC. AND IT'S ALL FANTASTIC.

Nothing I could say could properly describe how incredible and wild the plot is. Trust me. It'll cure all your S2 aches and give you one of the best fanfics, nay, stories of all time. Just. In general. Butt clenching moments, laughs, tears, excitement- it's a rollercoaster.

No slog, fantastic pacing, so many twists and turns that still always make sense and are so fun and compelling... I read this in less than a day and am already re-reading it and will occasionally do so for the rest of my life. This doesn't only build off of Good Omens with love and care, in some places, I'd say it transcends the source material.

This fic is already blowing up for good reasons, but I think it deserves as much love as possible, so I'm submitting it to your wonderful blog and hoping more people can discover this brilliant gem.

LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK WITH THIS BLOG, KEEP IT UP, MODS!! <3

((Definitely needs the #good omens s2 tag, but idk how to make it happen in the submission. Sorry if I did something wrong, you probably should delete this part when/if you post my submission btw))

[white-poppie]

Amethyst Reverie

Request: mm, maybee a darling who’s like Kocho Shinobu to leorio, gon, killua, and kurapika??

A/N: This has been in my inbox for over 3 months, I am so sorry nonnie, I hope you have a great one!

GON

He loves your cheery and teasing demeanor at first

He is pretty clueless so he doesn't realise for a long time that it is all a farse

That is until you get into a battle. Then he is scared by how fierce you are.

He gets it tbh, how much hatered you have against the people who killed your loved ones.

If you want to get revenge he will help you.

He has seen his friend and himself go down that destructive path so he wont stop you but rather try to catharize your rage.

KILLUA

He thinks that you are just another Gon at first, until he looks into your eyes and realises how empty they are.

He is scared, he doesn't know what to do, but he wont stop you doing things your way.

His heart breaks everytime you cry or rage, but he is terrible with comforting people and has no idea what to do.

His words of comfort are silent acts of service.

When you are comfortable enough to tell him the story, he almost cries at how much you have been enduring.

He will help you get stronger and stay by your side :)

LEORIO

"I can fix my s/o" No you can't Lay-oreo

Anyways. He is just so pathetic my god, take some time out for him from your revenge.

Thinks you are going on the same self-destructive path as Kurapika and absolutely hates it.

Unlike the others, he will try his hardest to stop you, so arguments are a common occurrence.

Yet he will path you up every time you get hurt, scold you and tell you to be more careful next time.

He hates that he can't do much to help, so he silently accepts defeat and prays that you don't end up getting hurt.

(Poor baby, I feel bad for him :<)

KURAPIKA

*insert spider-man meme* oh damn I forgot about spiders-

Your honour this man is literally the definition of perfection.

Sees right through your facade (after some time of course) but doesn't say anything, thinks he is going crazy.

He just silently listens when you open up and hugs you after you are done.

"It's okay, we will hunt them down together, we both will have our revenge."

He is kinda a hypocrite. Him getting hurt is okay, you, however-

He just gets it, he will help you get your revenge and vice versa.

(A/N: Therapy, both of you, now. Oh shit, don't leave me alone 'pika!)

psst, hey, over here! Uhm hi :) Do you like reading? If so can you please check out my first novel? I am a 15-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! Its okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future.

“Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!!

🏷 Tags: @denkis111, @jazzylove, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp,@rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @innerpurple, @cleaningfairylevi, @webawee

⤷‧₊˚ Hunter x Hunter (ハンタ x ハンタ)

🥀 BYI/DNI ♡⌇ Request Rules 𓏸 🗝️ ₊﹒《 Join my Taglist •

[thatdeadaquarius]

Aquarius’s Genshin Impact... MASTERLIST?!

☕️ Tip me an iced coffee?! :O

* = IMPOSTER AU = NOT dark/yandere!

* = Art made by me for the post!

☆

Turn on the background music?

Chronological-ish, so CHECK NEAR THE BOTTOM SECTIONS FOR NEWER POSTS.

(sorry about reformatting again guys...)

☆

Your Birthday! (ft. cute platonic Bennett)

...Whatcha listenin’ to Player?

You’re a walking speaker (sounds from ur memories)

Latino! Reader, You're feeling a little homesick... (mostly Zhongli scenario!)

You introduce Teyvat to the lovely music of KPOP (check the reblogs!!)

You made your babes gifts! ALL Characters/PART 1 - Travelers/Dainsleif, Pyro, Electro, Anemo

^ PART 2, of the gifts!! ^

Childe reacts to his voice actor's song covers

O Aquarius, dead stars you are, what is my horoscope today?

Razor, best boy.

Bennett, ft. Razor (part 2-ish!)

Qiqi, best girl.

Headcanons of an Avatar AU (the fantasy movies)

TCG Genius Invokation... wait, they're your Favorite Card???

* Imposter! AU while parenting Razor (non-yandere/not-dark version)

* Possession AU! - you can still control your characters, but by possessing them! PART 1

* Possession AU! - PART 2

Neurodivergent!Reader, Ganyu my beloved!

* Strawberry Scarameow.

You're an Army Veteran and you brought the gun

Minecraft AU!! :D ⛏️

Costa Rican Reader spreads their culture <3

* Possession AU Fanfic, only AO3 (Ongoing)

☆

Language Shenanigans!

OG Blunt Language in Teyvat AU! Post :) (check the reblogs for that post for awesome add-ons from followers!)

Blunt Lang. AU! Colorful Cussing

Blunt Lang. AU! Vine Boom every time you speak (+sprinkle of bilingual)

Blunt Lang. AU! Actually you’re just having to learn Teyvatian lang. that’s why ur blunt

Blunt Lang. AU! with a dash of Neurodivergent! Reader, your trying to be flowery... it’s not working...

Blunt Lang. AU! You're a writer! ...well now it's an ancient artifact and a bestseller.

Some more Blunt Lang. AU! fun AND more blunt lang. AU! fun :0

Paimon being rude in Sumeru

◇

Audio Processing Disorder (Reader with APD) Shenanigans, (mostly Diluc scenario!)

Neurodivergent! Reader stims! ...and Teyvatians thought that was your language...

Neurodivergent! Reader is a child/different ages randomly ft. Non-native English speaker

Teyvat’s countries have the Simlish versions of Japanese, German, etc.

Your Native Language is holy... except you mostly cuss with it

Slang words don’t translate well... or texting lingo

Tumblr / 2023 Slang doesn’t translate well...

...Teyvat is trying to make your slang words translate...

You’ve yet to realize that Teyvat has multiple languages (looks at hieroglyphics) ...is this Loss. the oldest record of language... “sus”

You know sign language and help out a lost kid, Teyvat melts AQUARIUS got isekaied?! with my followers??!! (check the reblogs too!) Nobody wants to tell You (god) that you’ve mixed up some words... You’re really out here just speaking gibberish, ya trickster god

You sound like an Animal Crossing character to Teyvatians

Godly game of charades scenario

You give up translating and just start running around (encoded/cipher! post)

You're an Eldritch God of Teyvat... so ofc no one understand you (check the reblogs too!)

You know French. You use this power appropiately.

Reader only writes to talk!

You're multilingual! ...Alhaitham is outside your door.

You're Brazilian, Teyvat is calm about this.

Ancient tablets nice... oh god its a hurt/no comfort fic.

*Eldritch God Reader Fanfic (thanks for 1000+ followers!!)

^^ part 2 of the above, also an ao3 link!

Teyvat doesn't write novels, but you do lol

☆

☆Taglists ☆

SAGAU ALL POSTS

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche

Possession AU! ONLY

@justlostintheinternet / @assassinsnake101 / @sun-wokung

♡

Wanna join a taglist for something? Just message me:

" pspspspssss tag me (insert taglist here) !! "

Hmmm... I wonder what you'll get if you send an ask saying "aquarius, oh dead stars, what is my horoscope today?"...°.•☆•.°?

♡

Safe Travels,

💀♒️