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harrysdaydreams · 1 year

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Unsatiated

Summary- Reader finds herself in a low place and has shut out the one person she should know wants to help more than anything. Harry is more than happy to take care of her regardless, which leads to revelations on both parts

Slight angst that ends with fluff that turns suggestive

-Harrys hands gently tug at the hair tie that is somehow still hanging loosely in your hair, letting the tangled strands fall against your back.

He lets out a low whistle, to which you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow causing him to laugh quietly as he tries to separate the matted sections of your hair.

His fingers are soft and careful with your strands, and his use of the brush is even gentler, taking his time to properly ensure every piece of hair is free from knots. The delicate touch of his fingers brushing the back of your neck causes you to let out a gentle sigh, and you unintentionally sink back into his touch.

Word count- 4.3k

Tuesday. Even the word itself sounded mundane and miserable. Throw in some grey skies accompanied by pouring rain, it was a recipe for a shitty day.

Normally you’d crack open a window, light a candle and bask in the fresh sounds of the raindrops hitting the floor of the balcony to your flat.

But it was more than a bad day- the past week you’d been feeling at your lowest, with no real pinpoint as to why. It was hard to find motivation for anything, cooking a nice meal, going outside, reaching out to your friends- several who had messages in your phone left unread- it all just seemed too much.

So here you lay in bed at 1pm, the same place you’d been all day, minus bathroom trips and the tremendous effort it had seemed to have taken to make some instant noodles that still sat on your nightstand uneaten.

You turn over onto your front and sigh into your pillow, having lost count of how many times you’d done the same thing all morning.

Why did everything feel so heavy? This isn’t how you usually responded to feeling low, always opting for surrounding yourself with the people you knew could lift you out of any place, no matter the situation.

Being with people now was the last thing you wanted, especially in your home, with piles of laundry waiting to be washed and dishes to be cleaned.

Uncomfortable on your front, you opt to turn back onto your side, reaching for your phone on the nightstand with the intention of putting on some music to drown out the rain. Hopefully you’d find something that could pull you out of your mood- that or something that further fuelled your angsty state and could maybe push you to finally release the pent-up tears you were too frustrated to shed.

As you scroll through your playlists contemplating what tone to set as you continue rotting in bed for the rest of the day, a text notification pops at the top of your phone.

Harry.

You assume he’s probably double texting you with some sort of snarky message for not replying to your beloved best friend for over two days. Your heart sinks a little as you think of him, his contagious smile and warm personality.

You miss him, and thinking of him is enough to momentarily make you smile as you pull down the notification to read the contents of his message.

Harry- You really gonna leave all four of my messages on delivered? I’m hurt Bitsy, deeply hurt.

You smile at his obvious sarcasm and the stupid nickname he came up with 4 years ago after finding out you were exactly one year, one month and one day apart in age, him being the eldest. He played on the fact that you’re younger than him and ran away with it completely, always making jokes of how small and ‘young’ you are.

Another text notification brings you back from your reminiscing, a new message directly under the one you’d just read.

Harry- Really though, are you ok? The radio silence isn’t normal for you.

Your heart sinks again and you feel bad for leaving your closest friend worrying about you.

Harry- Usually I have to mute our text thread just for some peace..

For the first time in days, you laugh out loud, a genuine smile spreading on your face that crinkles the corner of your eyes.

You- Uhh, RUDE!

Harry- Ahhh she lives!

Fuck, the way he can change your sour demeanour in just a few short messages. You instantly feel stupid for shutting everyone out, especially him.

You- Alive and kickin’! Specifically, your ass for being so rude. I’m okay though, promise old man. Sorry if I made you worry!

Harry- I’ll await my ass kicking whilst shaking in fear. Miss you though. Want me to come over? We missed pizza night on Sunday because someone... lost her phone? Fell off the face of the earth?

The suggestion of him coming over fills you with dread and takes away all of the momentary relief and lift in mood you’d felt just from texting with him.

You could pretend you were okay to a degree over text, but if he came over, he’d take one look at you, or around your flat and know something was wrong. And you wouldn’t even be able to give him a definitive answer why.

You tap the back of your phone with your nails anxiously trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make him worry more, seeing as you rarely turned down an opportunity to hang out together.

You- Miss you too, H. Raincheck? I feel a migraine coming on. Love you!

Harry- Love you too, Bitsy. Feel better

Feeling guilty, you lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand and try to ignore the new ache in your chest.

Despite your efforts, you scrunch your eyes closed and finally feel the hot sting of tears trail slowly down your cheeks.

You feel terrible for lying to your closest friend, the catalyst to finally unleashing the breakdown that had been sitting inside of you for the past few days as nothing but frustration and restlessness.

Now though, full blown sobs wreck your body as you hug your pillow whilst simultaneously burying your face into it, muffling the sound of your whimpering. You lay like that for a while, your chest rising and falling with every whine and sorry moan.

Finally, you take a series of deep inhales and long exhales to steady your breathing in a vain attempt to calm down.

What the fuck is wrong with me? you think as you wipe the leftover tears from your cheeks, sitting up against the headboard of your bed.

You take a long sip of water from your nightstand to wash away the disgusting taste left in your mouth from your dramatic sobbing.

The ache in your chest feels duller and somewhat lighter after releasing the supressed tears that had previously left you feeling so suffocated.

Now though, the lesser anguish in your chest brings your attention to a new source of pain in your neck, and you curse yourself mentally for laying in bed all day to the point it resulted in making your body sore.

After giving in to the fact you really should move, you stretch your arms above your head and then lift away the duvet from your body, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to sit up properly before sliding on your slippers sat on the floor beside you.

As you go to stand up, you hear a key in the lock of your door and your heart jumps into your throat. You listen for moment longer as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up before realisation dawns on you.

“That fucker!” you whisper, discarding your slippers and leaping back under the duvet to feign being asleep.

Harry was the only person you’d ever given a spare key, so you could only assume his kind natured, stupid, perfect self, had gone out to buy you supplies to get you through your migraine and come to check on you. You should have known better than to lie to him about being sick.

The sound of the door softly closing tells you he’s now inside the flat, followed by him gently calling out your name. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter as your heart beats fast in your chest, trying helplessly to ignore your panic and relax your body in the hope to pass off as being genuinely asleep.

He knocks lightly on your bedroom door which is already propped open with a doorstop, and you hear the rustling of a bag that must contain the supplies he so thoughtfully brought to you. Your eyes sting with tears again, why does he have to be so good?

“Hey love, I’ve brought you some strong ass painkillers and some anti-sickness tablets. How are you feeling?” he asks in a quiet voice; you can detect concern in his tone and that alone makes you want to cry all over again.

You’re in half a mind to ignore him and pretend you’re in a deep sleep so he’ll leave but with the knowledge that he’s right there... that he’s in reach and he could hold you… maybe he could make it okay.

You breathe a shaky sigh and reluctantly open your eyes and sit up, sliding back against the headboard again as you look at him, a new kind of concern immediately washing over his features.

He rushes over to perch on the bed beside you, his pretty face painted with worry as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve been crying... is it that bad? Or...” he trails off, looking between your red, puffy eyes as if doing so would decode what was wrong. “Love, what is it? Talk to me”

He can see through your lie now, something you never do, which fills his own heart with heaviness. Ignoring the sting of knowing you lied to him, he awaits your answer, knowing not to press you if something was so wrong to the point you felt the need to mislead him.

So, he doesn’t prompt and push, instead he rubs your shoulder softly as he waits for a reply, his soft green eyes on yours, hopeful you’ll meet his gaze.

“M’not good, Har” you reply shakily, biting your lip to keep it from quivering because the last thing you wanted was to become a sobbing mess in front of him. You shake your head as you continue to look down, more damned tears dropping into your lap despite you willing them to stay away, your finger now absently trailing the wet droplets they leave on your leg.

“Hey, hey look at me.. look at me” he soothes gently, both of his hands now on your shoulders urging you to lift your head to meet his gaze again. You do so reluctantly, and he lifts one hand to cup your face and brush away the hot tears on your cheek.

He offers you a pained smile, one that clearly shows his care for you, but the warmth in his eyes as he scans over your face pushes you to wrap your arms around him, gentle sobs immediately leaving your body again.

He pulls you gladly into a tight hug as his hand reaches up to the back of your head and moves in soft strokes over your hair as you breathe in the scent that is so Harry, so... home.

His eyebrows knit together in response to the twist in his heart upon hearing you cry, feeling your body shake softly as the tears escape. He continues his soft stroking to the back of your head, wanting so badly to take whatever it is away, to make everything better.

“Shhh, I got you. M’not going anywhere. I got you” he soothes, squeezing his own eyes shut to try pull himself together so he can be there for you how you need him. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his voice soft in your ear and his hold on you still tight.

You shake your head as much as you can in his vice like grip.

“Wouldn’t even know what to say. Truly. I don’t know why I’m in such a rut.” you say honestly between sniffles. That was the most frustrating thing about the past week. There was no trigger, no cause.

Foolishly you shut yourself away, the answer to your problem being so obvious now you were in his company- in his arms. Your eyes prick again at the thought, that dull throb in your chest again making itself present.

“Feel better because you’re with me though- I shouldn’t have lied to you- I should’ve let you- shouldn’t have told you- I-” your rambling is cut off by Harry quietly shushing you and resuming his careful stroking of your hair. God, how does he make everything okay?

“Shh, I get it, s’okay… it’s okay. I got you, yeah? M’right here, always right here” he coos in your ear, and you nod your head fervently because of course you know.

Right here felt like the only place on earth. The best place on earth.

You both remain in silence like that for a while longer until Harry slowly pulls himself away from you, leaning back but keeping his hand firmly on your thigh, making a point of keeping some physical contact with you.

At last, you finally look at him properly, smiling awkwardly, a smile that he returns with that boyish, one-sided smirk of his that you’ve grown to love so much.

The comfortable silence between you both is complimented by the rain still hammering down outside.

You turn your head to glance out of the window at the thick droplets bouncing off the glass, then turn back to Harry, who has an amused expression on his face.

He’s the one giving you an awkward smile now, to which you return a puzzled look.

“What?” you ask suspiciously.

He brings his hand up to cover his smile, which is growing bigger by the second. He’s clearly trying not to laugh, but refusing to let you in on the joke, so you poke his ribs to further prompt him to answer.

“S’nothing” he laughs, to which you raise an eyebrow disbelievingly, causing him to laugh again.

You cross your arms whilst feigning an annoyed look, stubbornly waiting for him to kindly share whatever it is that he’s seemingly finding so funny.

“It’s just uhh, when- when was the last time you brushed your hair?” he asks sheepishly, clearly not wanting to embarrass you but finding your lack of effort appearance wise humorous.

Your hand instantly lifts to the messy bun that had initially been propped on the top of your head two days ago. By now it was hanging low at the back of your head, probably a matted mess.

You groan and hit him softly with the pillow behind you, and he raises his arms to defend himself, resuming his laughter as a reluctant smile makes its way onto your face.

“I mean, you look great, but uhh, hairbrushes… great inventions” he taunts, but you can hear his smile so clearly in his voice that it sends warmth through your chest.

“Funny.” you quip, kicking his knee with your socked foot. “please, continue making fun of my misery” you joke, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, I take it back” he laughs musically, and you purse your lips in a bashful pout, eyeing him fondly as he readjusts his position on the bed to sit cross legged in front of you.

The comfortable silence resumes, Harrys fingers absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles at your ankle.

“Seriously though, want me to brush your hair?” he asks, your heart fluttering at the gesture.

Honestly, the idea of having to brush your hair over the past two days was a task that had seemed entirely overwhelming, hence the state of your bun. And now that it was probably a matted mess, it was a job you were happy to give to someone else- someone who seemed to understand entirely instead of sitting here judging you.

You look down at your hands in your lap, half embarrassed before nodding your head.

“If you don’t mind.. thank you, H” you reply, giving him a grateful smile.

He returns it knowingly, standing to grab the hairbrush from your vanity and sitting back down. He motions with his hand for you to turn around with your back to him, which you do so obediently, feeling pre-emptively better knowing one basic self-care need was being taken care of.

Harrys hands gently tug at the hair tie that is somehow still hanging loosely in your hair, letting the tangled strands fall against your back.

He lets out a low whistle, to which you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow causing him to laugh quietly as he tries to separate the matted sections of your hair.

By the time Harry has completely detangled your hair you’re pressed flush against his back, not noticing he’d finished as he continues to stroke and run his hands through your hair. He observes you warmly, noting how your eyes have softly closed and your breathing has shallowed.

As much as Harry was loving the entire situation, mainly the fact he’d seemingly managed to calm you down and help you relax, his legs were going numb as hell and he needed to move you from your position that had you practically seated in his lap.

With a small squeeze to your shoulder, he breathes gently in your ear “M’done love. All done.”

You open your eyes, not even realising they’d closed, running your hand through your hair and revelling in how soft the stands now felt. You move away from Harry rather reluctantly, turning back to face him as he stands up from the bed.

“Thank you, Har. I- honestly I feel so much better, really.. thank you” you smile gratefully, your heart warm in your chest and full of such tenderness for your best friend.

You would never get over how truly wonderful he is.

“S’nothing, promise. I like helping you relax. Makes me feel good too” he confesses, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You both exchange a look of fondness for each other, your eyes locking for an extended period of time. The exchange is warm, with a weight that is full of unsaid things but it’s also a look that needs no words- you both have a profound care for each other, that much has always been clear, but the longer you’re looking at him, the more your own gaze becomes one of longing.

Harry notices it too, his own eyes seeming to look deeper into yours as the warmth in them turns to something more heated.

You see it, you feel it, its thick in the air and you have to look away.

In return, Harry drops his eyes from your face and clears his throat as he fumbles with the hairbrush still in his hand.

He reaches to put it on the nightstand next to your forgotten pot of instant noodles which he picks up with a sigh. The mood instantly shifts back into one of playful friendliness as he holds them out to you with one eyebrow raised.

“This is what you’ve been eating?” he asks. “or not eating I should say. No wonder you’re so depressed” he jokes before walking out of the bedroom and into the open plan kitchen-living room, instant noodles in hand.

With him out of the room you place your head in your hands trying to calm down your thoughts and steady your heart rate. When did it start beating so quickly?

You’re brought out of your thoughts before you can even begin to overthink the look you’d both shared by the sound of the tap running from the bathroom down the hall from your room.

You step out of your bed and walk towards the source of the noise and are greeted by the sight of Harry running you a bath.

He notices you standing in the doorway and gives you a soft smile before walking over to you and gripping the sides of your arms gently.

“I’m gonna go get some real food while you take a bath, okay? I wont be long” he promises, pressing a parting kiss to your cheek before leaving, your heart quickening and heat rushing to your face.

You watch after him mindlessly, your fingers lifting to the spot he’d just kissed so casually, the feeling of his lips still lingering beneath your touch.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, your hearing dulled, and sense of touch heightened, before a panicked instinct to check the running taps pulls you from your yearning trance.

You turn them off quickly, before removing your clothing and sinking into the soothing warmth of the water and willing it to wash you of these muddled feelings and flustered responses to Harry’s demeanour and affections.

You urge yourself not to overthink his kiss to your cheek, remembering all the times he’d kissed the top of your head whilst hugging you goodbye, usually always followed with some kind of joke about how he can only reach the top of your head so easily because you’re so much smaller than him.

“See ya later Bitsy” you recall his voice and think of how most of those situations ended. Warm but only friendly.

You sink beneath the water to wet your hair, dragging your hands over your face to wash away the grime from your face and along with it any thoughts of Harrys kiss being anything more than a friendly parting.

What you refuse to fully acknowledge is the way your heart leaps at the idea of it being more.

You finish bathing, before wrapping yourself in a towel, feeling so much better for being forced into taking care of yourself.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh set of pyjama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you leave your room to see Harry dishing up the food he left to retrieve.

He looks up from portioning a steaming bowl of ramen and gives you a warm, happy smile.

“You look like you’re feeling a little better?” he asks hopefully, to which you nod, returning his smile shyly.

“Much better, thank you. Mmmh, food smells amazing.” You sigh, reaching to grab the bowl he holds out for you before sitting side by side on the sofa.

You eat together in a relaxed silence, one that offers tender glances at each other and periodic laughs as you both try hopelessly to eat ramen noodles gracefully.

Harry finishes first, and you follow not far behind him before setting your bowl on the coffee table in front of you both.

You feel his eyes, on you but can’t force yourself to move your eyes from your hands in your lap. The silence suddenly feels heavy, you don’t even have to look at him to know his stare holds so much weight.

Its impossible to ignore. You feel it.

Your stomach is fluttering under his gaze and your mind is racing.

In an attempt to take the newly tense and awkward edge out of the silence that had now settled, you clear your throat, but it only draws attention to the tension that hangs thick in the air between you both.

You chance a look at him, his green eyes fixed on you with an expression you can’t read.

“Stop it” you whisper, not chancing your voice cracking.

His face is soft, but his brow is tense, his eye contact unwavering.

“Stop what?” he speaks softly.

You inhale slowly, your eyes closing before releasing a shaky exhale.

“Stop looking at me like that. I don’t know what it means” you say.

He leans closer, only slightly, but the growing intimacy of your proximity is enough to quicken your heart rate all over again.

“Looking at you like what, love?” he feigns innocence, his expression still just as achingly warm.

You can barely bring yourself to answer, still trying to convince yourself you must be misreading the entire situation, that he can’t be looking at you with this intense desire, so gently, so.. so..

“Longingly...” you whisper.

His expression softens, his eyes leaving yours to delicately trail over the features of your face, a soft sigh leaving his mouth as his focus stops at your lips before cupping his hand at your cheek.

“I can’t, love. Because I can’t tell you how long I have longed for this.” he whispers.

Your eyes shut tight at his confession, that familiar warmth radiating through your whole chest as the entire world seems to stop spinning again.

When you open your eyes, they threaten to spill over with tears, and Harry knowingly caresses the side of your cheek with his thumb.

You can’t breathe.

“Me too” you utter almost silently.

Your admission sparks the most beautiful, genuine smile you’ve ever seen Harry wear, and he touches his forehead to yours with his hand gently cradling the back of your head.

“Well, thank fuck for that” he jokes, and you laugh breathily before pulling back to finally meet his eyes with a new confidence.

He looks between each of your eyes before refocusing his gaze on your lips. Before you can even acknowledge the excitement blooming in your chest, his mouth is on yours.

And it’s soft. It’s slow. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

He pulls you into his lap and deepens the kiss, causing you to whimper into his mouth as your hands fist into his t-shirt, desperately trying to anchor yourself to him, not wanting to lose him now that you finally have him.

His hand moves from the back of your head, trailing down your back to gently cup your ass, your core clenching in utter desire in response.

He pulls away from the kiss breathlessly, his hand gliding softly beneath your t-shirt, caressing the skin of your stomach, up towards your ribs suggestively.

“I know you’ve spent all day in bed, love.” he breathes. “But would you mind if I took you back there?”

Your head dizzies with a new lust. You scan over his face as he pulls you down against his lap almost desperately, his expression showing nothing but his adoration and unsatiated need for you.

And now, you can think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

“..yes please.”

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 10 months

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Pretty like the wind. Epilogue.

Series masterlist

a/n As promised, I welcome you into the last glimpse of our beloved's future. Thank you so much for joining me in this wonderful project. I had a blast writing it and a big part of my heart will always be here. ✨🤍 in a way can be read as a separate piece. 🫧

warning: kids for sure, mentions of past trauma and that's all. Happy, happy vibes. Just cute fam goodness.

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You hummed to yourself. That ancient melody of the wind that had been woven into your blood for decades. One that was now accompanied by a gentle breeze. Pulling the basket to rest on your hip, you slowly turned back to the house that Azriel had bought, even before you and the kids were in the picture. One he had surprised you with weeks after the proposal. You three had slowly decoded and rebuilt. Painting flowers and gusts of wind along the rims of the windows. Slithers of dark and radiant beams of light. A mural of your story. One that had threaded you all together so tightly that there was no way to distinguish where one of you stared and the other began.

"Can you do my hair the way you had it during the mating ceremony with papa?", you flinched slightly as an overly excited Zofie appeared right in front of you the moment you walked through the patio door. You slowly set the laundry down. Cupping her cheek gently. To think that now she was almost above your shoulder. Where, when, and why did babes suddenly start to age way quicker?

"With flowers and all?", you asked her softly, and she nodded so eagerly that there was no way for you to decline. You loved that both Axel and Zofie had been there. Have been a part of one of the happiest days of your existence. Mother, strike them all. You still got goosebumps just from the thought alone. Of course, neither you nor Azriel cared about official vows and ceremonies, but there had still been a part of you that wanted to meet him in the middle of the old oak forest. Meet him in the glistening pool of startling. Take his hand as he slowly helps you step over the slippery stones.

Azriel was beautiful. You knew that from the moment you laid eyes on him. But that day. Dressed in all black. His slightly curly hair brushed back, yet that one stubborn, utterly perfect strand lazily fell over his forehead. The moment Azriel's eyes met you, you were ready to run down the path, not walk. Run straight into your mate's arm, into your forever. "My light, my sunshine," the spymaster had muttered as he brushed his nose against you when yours, you two were inches away, both up to waist submerged in the starlight.

"Alright, but...", you muttered, shaking your head slightly. You hadn't been the one to do your hair. It was Feyre and Cordelia who had braided and poked at your head for what felt like hours. "I picked all of the flowers myself." Zofie quickly cut into your train of thought, "You don't have to do anything; just braid," she breathed out. So hopeful. So full of young enthusiasm. Flowers. It had been the flower that Elain had grown in her garden that had been threaded through your hair that day. Even if Azriel had turned from her, you had sought her out against his will. She had moved out with Lucien. With Beron dead and Eris running the autumn court, the youngest Vanserra had wanted to stay close to his brothers. She, like the farmers in the border villages, had been poisoned by the dark magic Padme had borne. A weak link—that's what she had been. A naive, still ever-trusted heart that had been forced against her own will to cause harm that now she had to be forced to bear.

You chased that memory away. Even now. Even after so much, her story still sent shivers down your spine. Reaching for the brush, you gently brushed Zofie's long, onyx hair. Twisting and braiding. Plucking flowers from the basket as you went. Zofie shifted in her chair. She had a direct view of herself in the big brass mirror that stood against the wall in the hallway. Smoothing the silk of her skirt, she muttered, "Do you think it's too much?" You met her eyes in the reflection ahead. She was one stunning young girl. But teen years could be and often were filled with so much doubt. "Oh gosh, it's too much, isn't it?", she nearly sighed, and you realized that you had taken way too long to answer, "Zofie, darling, calm down; you look lovely." You smiled at her, finishing some of the last braids as you carefully pinned them into place.

"We'll go as soon as Axel comes back," you said softly. She rubbed her palms together, already trying to turn her head to see the backrest. The lack of patience in these younglings... "Do you think papa will be mad?", she asked softly, yet you couldn't help a slight frown that ran through your face. "Mad about what?", you had started right as the door opened, and Azriel walked in, looking as refined as ever. You instantly felt a gentle caress against the bond, making you smile before the spymaster turned his attention to the not-so-little girl. "Wow," Azriel breathed, and Zifie's cheeks instantly turned crimson. "Give me a twirl," his shadows already dancing in the sides of the purple dress you had stitched specifically for tonight. "You look breathtaking, my little start," and here she was, nearly shining with the love and confidence Azriel poured into her on a daily basis. She flourished when she was with him. And Azriel had done all he could to make her grow into her skin. Into her power.

"It feels like a whole welcome party for your brother," Azriel finally chuckled as he stepped further into the house, and Zofie's face fell instantly. The girl spared you a look before turning to her dad, "It's not for Axel." It was barely a whisper, and yet she knew that he heard her. "You just wanted to get...", but Azriel's voice died down right as the realization hit him. "Oh...", he breathed out. His features grew stern almost immediately. "Nyx's will be there," Zofie swallowed thickly.

This was probably one of the things Azriel struggled to get over. Of course, he knew they were going to mate eventually. And you had to be blind and dead and, in general, not be able to grasp reality to miss the way Zofie and Nyx were constantly pulling towards each other no matter where they went. "Papa," she breathed, stepping closer to Azriel and pulling at his arms that were tightly folded over his chest. "You are too young," Azriel huffed slightly, shaking his head. "Come on," Zofie huffed, turning to you. "Mom," she pleaded her case with you.

"Azriel, we talked about this," you said softly. And you two had. Elain had a vision of them a long way down the line. Azriel, of course, had called it bullshit. But Rhys saw the early flickers of bonding between the two kids with his own two eyes. Of course, they were left unaware for now. Way too young to go through frenzies. Hand holding already gave Azriel cardiac arrest. If Nyx were to pull her into a cabin all alone, the end of the world would be upon everyone.

"You are supposed to be in the phase when boys are disgusting to you," Azriel stated plainly, making you giggle slightly. Yet you knew that there was only so long he could decline her, and the minute Zofie's shoulders had sagged in defeat, the spymaster had thrown his head back too. "Fine," he muttered, and Zofie let out a happy squeal that she tried to cover with her palms, but nothing truly slipped through Azriel's ears. "Your shadows can be with me at all times," she stated, nodding her head firmly. "Oh, like hell they will be, missy," Azriel leaned in to kiss her forehead lovingly. His fingers reached for the blue sapphire that glistened on her neck. Azriel had crafted it himself for her. It was a way for her to block out the flare-ups of her empathetic powers. It helped her keep her shields up. Helped. She could do it perfectly fine on her own now, but Zofie had never taken the necklace off. No matter what, that piece of jewelry always stayed.

"I'm home." You nearly let out a gasp as you turned your attention to the door. And here he stood. You nearly tripped over yourself as you rushed to him. "Oh, my sweet," you said, feeling your eyes tingling as you cupped Axel's face. "Look at you," you breathed. To say that it was hard watching him go to the camps to train would have been an understatement. You couldn't sleep the first night he was gone. Had made Azriel winnow you there just so you could see him sleeping peacefully. Of course, he wasn't alone. Nyx was with him, and the two had formed quite a friendship, but still, the past trauma of the place lingered.

"Ax," Zofie's voice echoed, and Axel barely got to turn away from you as she jumped into his arms. Axel spun her around a couple of times before muttering, "Hey, Zo." The two siblings were beaming at each other. It was hard for them to stay away from one another. For most of their lives, they held onto each other so tightly. Protected one another. A slight sob slipped past your lips. "Mom, come on," Axel reached out to you, but you just shook your head, waving him off. "Don't mind me," you said, patting your cheeks. Zofie instantly stepped to hug you from the side, her head pressed against your chest.

"Who let you grow so much in a week?", you muttered, making everyone let out a chuckle. "I doubt I did," Axel looked down at himself before his eyes met yours. "Yes, you did," you reassured him as he too stepped closer to kiss your cheek. "Put your bags down; wash up if you like before we go," you brushed your fingers over his cheek, earning a smile from him in return. While you had been excited for a family dinner the past couple of days, all of a sudden all you wanted was to lock up the doors and keep your family all in the house. "I'll help him unpack," Zofie beamed. You knew it was less about the unpacking and more about the extra time they could spend together. The two just loved to talk. And since they trusted each other so much, you were sure there was a lot to catch up on. You watched them chasing one another up the steps. The house was once again full of laughter, and footsteps were echoing from the second floor.

You closed your eyes, your hand resting on your chest. "You're okay," Azriel's smooth voice found you before you felt his touch. "Don't ask me that, Azriel or I will cry," you huffed, pressing your lips together as another wave of tears burned your eyes. "Come here," the spymaster pulled you into his embrace, warm palms drawing patterns on your back.

"Mother, strike me. I hate this," you pinched the bridge of your nose as you blinked rapidly, trying to chase the tears away. Azriel snickered, "I think it's adorable." You shot him a glare, muttering a quick, "Shut up." That, of course, earned another wholehearted laugh from him, "See, adorable," to which you had only rolled your eyes. Azriel leaned in, kissing the side of your head. Cheek. Before his lips met yours, slow and gentle affection. That was how your love was now.

"I just want to keep them here forever," you breathed out after a while, "They are not allowed to leave ever." Leaning against your mate's chest, you felt that all overtaking peace and quiet. "And I'm the overprotective one," Azriel teased, but your lack of response and the way your shoulders were tense let him know that today wasn't the day to play around. He pulled you even closer to him as if that were even possible.

"Breathe with me," he muttered softly, resting his forehead against yours. Guiding your breaths once. Twice. A shallow breath in and an extended exhale. "And you," the spymaster muttered, the smile in his voice hard to miss, "You need to stop making mommy so emotional." His scarred palm slowly moved to rub your rather swollen belly. Where the newest addition to the family was growing. A loving touch from its father stirred the baby awake and earned a rather strong kick in return.

"You just said it was cute," you muttered, frowning. "And angry too, please," Azriel leaned closer to the bump as he whispered. You softly hit the back of his head, "You are insufferable." "But you love it," Azriel practically sang. "How are you feeling?", his tone almost immediately switched as he realized that you were up on your feet, so he was guiding you towards the sofa in no time.

"Well, I officially can't see my feet," you chuckled as he pulled out onto his lap, nestling his face in your neck for a couple of nibbles. "You look dazzling pregnant," Azriel stated firmly, making you shake your head. "Yeah, because you are high on fea hormones," you pointed at his chest, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"How did we get here?", you breathed out, slowly reminiscing on all the years spent together. This was your forever. This home. This family. "Well, when a male puts his...", you hit his chest playfully. "No," you muttered, "With our kids wanting to be out instead of spending the evening with us," because it had been just you four for so long. Well, five. Cordelia had been the most loving mother-in-law ever. And the two kids were over the moon excited to spend time with her. Even now, they always visit. If not together, then by themselves. But she was a huge part of your family. "They are growing up," Azriel said softly, his hand protectively resting on your belly as he no doubt sat here listening to the heartbeat. One of his many hobbies now that you have been pregnant.

"I'm excited to plan their mating ceremony," you blurted out randomly, and Azriel's head turned to you so quickly that you wondered how he didn't get dizzy. "Hold your horses, women," he huffed almost offensively, "No one is walking down any aisle unless I'm the one dragging them off it." Here was the protector. You tried biting your lip, but you simply couldn't hold yourself back. Letting out a genuine laugh. And Azriel's slight frown melted immediately as he moved to brush some of the hair away from your face, "Here's that pretty smile I love so much." Your heart skipped a beat. Still skipped a beat as you felt your cheeks grow crimson. "Stop," you muttered, nestling your head in the crook of your mate's neck. "No way, I vowed to make you happy," Azriel breathed out, kissing the side of your head.

Laughter echoed from above, making your lips curve upward even more. You didn't need to see Azriel's face to know that he too was grinning. Nothing ever beats the sound of home. "Do you know how much I love you?", you pulled away slightly, suddenly desperate to look into his hazy eyes. Azriel cupped your face lovingly, "I do because I love you just as much, sweetheart," he breathed. His velvety lips meet yours. And Mother, you had never been happier for bargaining forever with this man.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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portgasmalia · 1 year

Note

HELLO!!! I don't usually send reqs but I had to get this out of my system... (thank you in advance if you write something out of this :)))

I hc that Law designed/inked his own tattoos (what can this man not do??) and when reader figures this out, she wants a tattoo similar to the one on law's chest…. but over her breasts.

law agrees but its hard for him to focus when your entire upper-body is exposed during the process... you know what i mean?? 🤭

ʚ 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘 ɞ | trafalgar d. law

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: trafalgar d. law i & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), implied smut, naked breasts, staring which comes off a little perv 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: so, i have tattoos, and i would let law give me one any given second of the day. here i thought about getting law's death tattoos those past days haha. so, i placed it around the collarbones and the last little peak of the heart would be in the valley of the breasts.

seated patiently on one of the stools in law's office, you started to pull the fabric of the thin shirt over your heart. trafalgar law's back was turned in your direction as he prepared the last lines of the template for the tattoo. a design, you wished for badly and one, he knew how to draw perfectly. when he walked around the polar tong with his coat opened, presenting the ink that covered his tanned and toned body, you almost felt a pinch of jealousy. finding out, a couple of weeks later, that he was the one who literally drew them and decorated the different parts of his body as well, you immediately asked him for one.

what law not expected when he agreed, was the very uncommon position and that you wanted a replica of what he wore on his chest. the heart with the smiling face of his jolly roger in the middle. "do you want me to remove my bra too?" you asked, so innocently, making the situation worse. seated on the stool, in the middle of his office room, waiting for him to touch your soft skin around your breasts while inking his tattoo into you, it caused feelings in law. feelings, he could not understand. "guess so, or it won't stretch out towards your collarbones,"

"oh but i want it to be really wide and end in the valley between my boobs," you stated, showing the directions and placements with your fingers while the doctor forced himself to not look at your longer than a second. any gaze, which lingered too long on your exposed breasts, the hardened buds due to the temperature change under the deck, he would lose himself. not completely but painfully slow until giving in to the sweet desire of ravishing you. "alright," he held the template between his slender fingers, turning around and walking towards you.

and hell, you looked even better undressed than the drawings in his thoughts could ever create. sweet curves, smooth skin, and that cursed smile of yours, which cast a spell over his being all the time. "let's get started, this will take a couple of hours to finish." law took a seat opposite of you, holding up the thin piece of paper in front of your chest, and hesitating. he hesitated to touch your skin in such inappropriate places, and inhaled deeply. " can you like, place it yourself with the help of the mirror over there?"

eyes hidden underneath the mess of black strands and the brim of his beloved, white hat. the shadows casted over the upper half of his face saved the stoic captain from being seen with a tint of crimson red across the span of his cheeks. the situation made it difficult to think straight, or at least focus on the main reason behind being in such a scene. “why? is something wrong?” you questioned a second later, innocence written across your face and sweetness twisted in your features.

as if your naked chest wasn’t enough to push him closer to overstepping the set boundary, your glances and naive behavior became torture. those sweet, dilated doe eyes awakened an unexplainable instinct in the captain. something that increased his primal desire of wanting to touch her, and blemish her soft skin. “it’s nothing,” law commented, holding the template towards her.

“i think it’s better if you place it, i don’t want to do anything wrong,” you admitted, shaking your head carefully and pressing your chest further forward. an allowance to touch her breasts without having to say a word. “shit,” law muttered underneath a deeply frustrated groan before scooting closed. eyes at the same height as her hardened buds, his mouth watered at the sight.

carefully, he placed the tip of the heart between her breasts, fingertips pressing the template against her soft skin. it didn’t bother him, the worst part was how his hands wandered across the swell of her breasts and along her collarbone, making sure the thin paper with the most important outlines was sticking to her skin. “your touch is so soft,” you muttered, focused on how carefully and slowly his tattooed fingers moved around her chest, always avoiding go touch her breasts directly.

what you couldn’t see, was how trafalgar law inhaled and exhaled deep breaths, attempting to keep them steady enough to get through the session without ravishing you completely. afterwards he couldn’t promise did anything.

credits go to portgasmalia.

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lu-dao-writes · 8 months

Text

— 𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 (𝘼𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖!𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙤)

꒰ྀི ᥫ᭡ 𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 Despite being semi aware of his and his siblings existence, that’s all he knows. Choso not only has to navigate being fully alive, but he has to understand his role as the older brother, and understand his role as an alpha.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) Omegaverse/ABO dynamics, SPOILERS, scenting, nesting, Kenjaku and him being a questionable dad, Mahito being… himself really, mentions of sex/ heats and ruts, mentions of porn watching, gn!reader, reader is Gojo’s sibling (you decide if biological or not), reader’s dynamic is not specified but hinted you’re either an alpha or omega, angst, bittersweet ending, vague threat alluding to sa not made by Choso but Kenjaku, grief.

𝘼/𝙉 It’s finally here (on my tumblr anyway lol)! This is more of a character study for Choso that I wanted to do, and because I also wanted to do an omegaverse piece. Reader and Choso interact later down the line, and the last bit is just the Reader’s perspective. Not too confident with the last bit but I’m ready to be done lol. Idk if I should have the minors dni warning cause there’s nothing super explicit here, but I’d say this is probably for a mature audience? I’ll be lenient but I’d rather not see a 13 year old like this🤣. But I hope y’all enjoy this! Also thank you for your patience!𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ꒱ྀི

꒰ྀི𝙒𝘾: 5,232 ꒱ྀི

꒰ྀི 𝙏𝙖𝙜(𝙨) 🏷️ ꒱ྀི @staygoldsquatchling02

THE first breath of life is usually a special, momentous moment.

Sometimes it’s the start of a miserable existence where a soul must struggle before finding the sweet taste of… Whatever it is.

But for Chōsō, it’s more disorienting than anything, and the main thing on his mind is his family.

Chōsō and the rest of his siblings have been aware of each other, almost as if they’re connected by a mind link, but there’s no words to be said nor heard. It’s just a faint thrumming, almost like the thin strands of a spider's web being plucked.

The death painting cared not for anything else outside of his siblings.

That is until he had to when he took his first official breath.

Chōsō awakens to two people in front of him; two men with various smiles plastered on their faces. One a mild smile with slight interest in his eyes with ink black hair cascaded down past his shoulders, a scar across his forehead and dressed in some traditional getup.

And the other has giddy, dual colored eyes seemingly bright with.. Something that makes him feel a bit uncomfortable. He’s got dull blue hair and stitches in various spots on his body.

After briefly studying their appearance, scents infiltrate his nose. A wave of multiple things and so overwhelmingly strong that it makes his skin itch and belly clench.

On one hand there’s a mix of spicy, and smoky with hints of sweetness, and on the other hand it’s sour and bittersweet.

Chōsō covers his nose before becoming slightly infatuated with his new appendage. Too pale skin with a few bulging veins. He wiggles his fingers before a voice finally speaks up.

“You’re finally awake, Chōsō,” the dark haired man speaks, his voice giving Chōsō the feeling like something creeps up his spine, but he’s not sure if it’s a pleasant feeling or something dreadful.

Chōsō blinks at him cluelessly, purple eyes mirroring each other as they look at one another, but eventually Chōsō can see a hint of delight in the others eyes, but his face remains composed.

The man with the stitches giggles, the sound being higher pitched compared to the ink haired man.

Chōsō looks at the other with a bit of confusion.

“Ignore him, but I’ll cut to the chase. Your name is Chōsō and you are the oldest of 9 siblings.”

Chōsō finds himself nodding, being aware of this knowledge, but he does not interrupt him.

“Behind you are Esō and Kechizu.”

Chōsō whips his head around, his heart swelling as he watches the vessels slowly morph until they’re at their final shape.

His beloved younger brothers…

The reasons for him to strive to be the best role model and pave the right path for them and them alone, no matter the mistakes he’s bound to make.

His responsibility…

“You are responsible for them and each other,” the man continued from behind him.

The man with dual colored eyes wanders closer, crouching down near Esō and Kechizu. He reaches out and pokes at them carelessly, the action infuriating Chōsō to a high degree. He acts before he could comprehend what he's doing, his hand smacking the other’s away and a rancorous snarl spilling from within his throat, startling himself. His eyes are wide and he touches his throat, the pad of his middle, ring, and index fingers pressing at his Adam’s apple.

The man that was prodding at his brothers only cackles. “Oh, he didn’t like that!”

“Mahito, I suggest not testing him too much. He’s an alpha that doesn’t know how to control himself, and I certainly won’t help if you get hurt because you couldn’t stop running your mouth,” the other man warns, not sounding concerned in the slightest.

The unserious man, Mahito, scoffs. “Oh please, Getō, I’m not scared of some untrained alpha mutt.”

Chōsō is left even more confused, but he’s not insulted, instead he focuses on hovering over his brothers, not wanting Mahito to touch them again.

Now that he’s more present, he can tell who’s smell is who. Mahito’s is the one that smells sour and bittersweet, while Getō is the smoky, sweet and spicy one. It’s still overwhelming to smell them both, the urge to snap at both of them was strong, but he was not going to break composure again unless necessary.

Esō and Kechizu’s scents were slowly coming to life, their scents not being bothersome to Chōsō.

Esō smells faintly of something soft, floral, and sweet, but underneath that it’s death.

And Kechizu’s scent is earthy, metallic, and also smells of death underneath it all, but his scent is not as strong as everyone else’s.

They’re perfect in his eyes.

Chōsō holds their hands as they wake up, his gaze almost blank but there’s a touch of softness there in those dark purple eyes of his.

“Hello younger brothers,” he greets, his voice dull while his hands hold theirs tenderly.

“You’re Esō,” he directs to his brother who looks like an unearthly human.

He then looks to his other brother who looks less human. “And you’re Kechizu.”

Esō and Kechizu smile at him and wrap their arms around him, their scents meshing together and onto each other’s skin like a semi permanent tattoo.

Seeing their smile, and feeling their warmth… Chōsō wants to make sure he keeps them safe and happy.

Mahito scoffs and Chōsō is alerted.

“Chōsō is the only one that looks good. How come the other two look so gross?”

Another cord of uncontrollable anger surges through him, but he restrains himself enough that only a small growl leaves his throat, purple eyes glaring pins and needles into Mahito who looks like he couldn’t care less.

Esō’s scent suddenly grows foul, permeating through the room and alerting everyone.

It further pisses Chōsō off but before he could lose the little amount of control he has, Getō cuts in calmly.

“Where are my manners? I’m Getō Suguru, and I’m sure you heard me address him as Mahito. Before we let the three settle in I have more to discuss with you.”

Chōsō noticed while Getō was talking that he had a way to command his attention even though Chōsō was far more focused on making sure his brothers were okay, especially Esō.

Getō goes on to talk about his plans for the world and wants them to join in his cause. Chōsō frankly does not care, as long as he and his siblings can live peacefully in this “new world”.

“We’ll join under one condition,” Chōsō declared once Getō was finished with his speech.

Said man’s smile grows an inch. “Go on and name your condition.”

Chōsō speaks firmly, never once wavering as he and Getō stare each other in the eyes. “As long as my brothers, as well as our other siblings, can live peacefully in the end of all of this, we’ll cooperate.”

Getō looks like he expected nothing less from the ill looking man. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Seeming that it seems to be a deal, he nods before speaking again. “Now then, what is with you calling me an alpha?”

“Ah yes! I will give you books on your biologies and as well as get you and Esō the proper medications you’ll need.”

Mahito gags, toying with his hair. “Those pesky suppressants. Who even needs those when they end up becoming a problem later?”

Chōsō’s eyes fly open with alarm, his purple orbs darting over to Getō and narrowing slightly, silently demanding an explanation.

Getō waves off his gaze, still having that carefree expression of his. “That’s years and years down the line.” Then he suddenly pins Chōsō with a knowing stare, looking a little arrogant now. “Esō is an omega and without them he could get hurt. You wouldn’t want that now would you?”

Chōsō swallows and only gives him a stiff nod, the terms still lost on him, but if the medication can keep Esō stable for now, that’s all he needs to know. He’ll figure out another solution later when he’s more knowledgeable.

Getō then guides the three beings into a room and inside there’s a large bed, small wooden desks beside the bed, light fixtures, a tv, empty bookshelf, a standing mirror, and a fuzzy couch. On the bed there’s a pile of random articles of clothing and some shoes that the siblings wander over to.

“This will be your living space, when you’re able to go outside feel free to buy anything to liven the place up more,” Getō advises, remaining at the doorway. “I’ll let you three get dressed and I’ll be back shortly.”

The siblings don’t acknowledge him, focused on finding the right pieces of clothing for themselves.

And Chōsō finally runs into his first problem as an older brother. When Esō was trying his first set of clothes on, he was absolutely horrified when he saw what was on his back. His scent soured and stunk up the room, drowning Chōsō and Kechizu.

Esō moves away from the standing mirror, keeping his back away from his brothers, his eyes slightly welling up. “I look disgusting!” he gasps, a million thoughts and scenarios passing through his eyes and it makes Chōsō panic and clam up. He wants to help him immediately, but when he takes a step towards him, he’s lost on what to even say.

“Esō don’t be so harsh on yourself. Kechizu nor I even batted an eye on what’s on your back. You’re not disgusting,” Chōsō explains to him, his voice blunt but with a twinge of gentleness.

Esō's expression softens but he looks off to the side, his attention elsewhere again. He shakes his head and moves to the pile of clothes again. “Please.. Don’t look at my back.”

“But-.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Please, Ani…”

Chōsō wants to push, but hearing the pleading in Esō’s voice makes him reluctantly sigh and let it go. He only wants to make his brothers happy, and if Esō doesn’t want to talk about it, fine. He’ll have to trust that whenever Esō’s ready he’ll come talk to him.

“I don’t think I want to wear any of these,” Kechizu chimes in before the silence could swallow them. “It’s not like I’ll be able to walk out in public anyways,” he adds with a shrug and tossing the shirt in his hand, not having a care in the world about that fact.

Chōsō hopes that Kechizu keeps that attitude because he doesn’t even know how to help Esō with his current situation.

“That’s fine,” Chōsō murmurs, admiring some boots that were on the bed.

Once dressed to their liking, Esō’s smell had gradually turned back to normal, easing the other two.

“Are you both comfortable?” Chōsō checks in.

“We’re fine!” Esō replies while Kechizu nods with a smile. “Are you?”

Chōsō nods with a hum. “I want you both to have the bed. The couch will be fine with me.”

They tried to argue and insist that he could also take the bed with them, but Chōsō insisted that he already took a liking to the couch anyways. Since the younger siblings knew there was no way to change Chōsō’s mind, they give up, settling down onto the bed.

“What do you think of all of this?” Esō eventually asks.

“All I care about is my family,” Chōsō answers without hesitation. “We live for each other, and as your older brother I’ll do my best to keep you both happy and safe.”

‘I will set a good example for them like I’m meant to. Even if I stumble along the way..’

“And we’ll keep you safe and happy!” Kechizu declares with Esō nodding with his arms crossed.

“That won’t be necessary but I appreciate it,” he says softly, lips curling up slightly. “Your happiness makes me happy.”

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door before it opens, revealing Getō with books and a bag of medicine in hand like he promised. “Here you all go,” he says, handing them off to Chōsō.

Chōsō stares at the book that was on top: “Alpha Biology 101 For Dummies.”

“Whenever you three are ready the rest of us will be out here,” he says before gliding away once more.

As Chōsō learns to grasp what life is now for him and his brothers, he soon learns the meaning of what are alphas, betas, and omegas.

Kechizu is a beta. People with this dynamic don’t have to take suppressants like alphas and omega have to to regulate sexual urges. Their scent is not as overpowering, and… Well… In simple terms they’re basic.

Not his words.

Now onto omegas. Omegas were highly sought after, spoken of like they’re prized treasures. They have heats that occur and are said to be “submissive” and the “caregivers” of society. Lot of the texts in the books he was given speak of omegas being frail and are made to be infantilized. It was weird, and it made him feel dread in the pit of his gut as he thought of either of his brothers being treated that way.

Chōsō was conflicted about what was being told to him from the books, and his own analysis from being around his brothers, Mahito, and omegas outside the hideout.

Mahito and Esō were not submissive. While Esō is sensitive that does not mean that he’s submissive. He’s clever and likes to dominate the room and anyone that tries to walk over him. Just as long as no one speaks or gazes upon the face on his back he’s fine.

Mahito… He’s playful, sadistic, and dominates the room, especially those he considers inferior. He’s anything but fragile and doesn’t need protection. The world is his playground and he doesn’t care who gets hurt or what gets broken by him.

Chōsō knows there’s not a caring bone in his body.

If anything.. Kechizu, despite being a beta, had what the textbook would describe as “omegan behavior”…

Even while he people watched he could see that what was said in the textbook was so… Wrong. Outdated.

It all just seems to be one big insult to omegas while only slightly uplifting them.

But Chōsō takes the basics so that he’s got a foot to stand on when taking care of Esō's and his omegan needs. And of course he made mistakes along the way, and at first he’s hard on himself when it comes to forgiveness.

Esō likes to nest with minimalistic things, even though he’s somewhat forced too since the brothers don’t have much to begin with. Esō also isn’t a perfectionist when it comes to his nest. He just wants one or two items that belong to his brothers and somewhere comfortable. He’s not big on constant need of physical touch, something he snapped at Chōsō for when he tried to coddle him a little too much. He does however like to wear bracelets that have Chōsō and Kechizu’s scent on them. It’s something he never likes to take off unless they need to be rescented. Those bracelets keep him happy just as much as being in his brother’s presence.

But finally onto alphas…

Alphas seemingly have too much power. They’re viewed as dominant, aggressive, and almost as gods, and the superior beings of the world. Like omegas they have heats, but they’re called ruts.

But once again, Chōsō goes off what he sees amongst Getō, Jōgo, himself, and people outside.

Chōsō has yet to really lose his senses, unless it comes to his family. But he’s not possessive of anything, outwardly aggressive, and he doesn’t even look like a typical alpha, something Jōgo mumbled about once with Mahito also agreeing halfheartedly.

Chōsō also doesn’t bother to assert himself when it comes to Jōgo or Getō.

Jōgo every now and then tries it, but Getō asserts himself elegantly without doing much effort, and he mocks Jōgo when he fails.

There’s also a big aspect on sexual urges and he himself hasn’t crossed that path and neither has his brothers.

Even when he accidentally walked in on Mahito cackling about the porn he was watching- although the obscene noises startled him- it overall did nothing to him.

Briefly he does wonder if something is wrong with him, but in the end he doesn’t care enough. He appreciates that he doesn’t have to deal with it because it’ll just get in his way.

Chōsō believes he has a decent understanding of all the dynamics, but he has no interest in telling anyone how they should behave. It’s not his place and he sees no point in it.

People watching has helped, but soon it starts to take a toll on him. Looking at the humans… He has no hatred towards them, but looking at them constantly reminds him how his other siblings will not be welcomed. Only he can walk around without much problem, and that sucks.

So eventually he stops going out so much, keeping himself at the hideout and leaving only when necessary.

He just hopes that following Getō’s plans doesn't come to bite him in the ass later…

But unfortunately the universe isn’t so kind to him. While playing a silly little board game with the other residents, Chōsō feels like his heart was being gripped so tight while simultaneously being slowly torn apart and beating rapidly, his mind flashing with images. He ignores Mahito’s whining and barely even moved to respond to Getō when he asked if he was okay.

“Both… Both of my brothers just died,” he says, his voice heavy. His scent is sour and oozing from him, causing Mahito to complain more before he’s distracted by something Getō says.

Chōsō breaks through the static when he feels Getō’s hand on his shoulder, gazing at him with a slight look of sympathy. The game board was already cleared up and everyone else was gone, leaving them alone.

“Let’s go retrieve their bodies,” Getō orders lightly.

Chōsō blinks at him, a little stunned he’s willing to even do that for him. He just nods, his throat thick with saliva. Or maybe it’s bile.

As they walk together Getō never once walks ahead, just remains at Chōsō’s side. His scent wraps around him as if to comfort him, and he still doesn’t know what to make of it, but it does keep him grounded and… It feels nice.

But surely he’s not trying to act like a father to him. Getō’s not soft either.

Chōsō pushes it aside for now the moment he sees his dead brothers laid up next to one another. That’s when the tears suddenly came.

Tears continuously drip down his pale cheeks, never ceasing even as he tries to swipe them away. He falls to his knees and hugs their bloodied bodies into him, sobbing and begging for their forgiveness for not being there and saving them.

He felt their fear and it was sickening. He felt everything up until they took their last breaths.

Chōsō whimpers that he’ll avenge them. He’ll slaughter Yūji Itadori and Nobara Kugisaki for what they’ve done.

Getō watches with a soft expression, his lips quirked just slightly with wicked twinkle in his eyes. He reaches over to lightly ruffle Chōsō’s head, comforting him and letting him grieve.

After properly burying his brothers, Chōsō started caring less and less about the plain, the only thing truly fueling him being revenge.

So during the fight with Gojō Satoru in the Shibuya subway he hardly put much effort into it, letting Jōgo and Hanami take the lead and do the heavy lifting.

From Getō, Chōsō has been made aware just how strong he is, and Chōsō has no wish to die by his hands. His quarrel is not with him and he doesn’t want Gojō to be in his way.

Especially not when he’s so close to his brothers’ killers.

Just when Chōsō can find himself falling asleep due to sheer boredom and from his legitimate lack of sleep, a sudden scent wafts in the air and punches him straight in the lungs, his pupils slowly widening. There’s a sudden electricity running through his veins and he’s become alert, head swiveling around.

It’s a scent so alluring and it floats around the subway, slowly becoming stronger, and standing out amongst the gore and sour rot. It comes closer until his head is snapped to the side, a foot quite literally snapping him out of it.

Chōsō grunts as he crashes to the ground, and when he looks at his attacker he’s once again stupefied.

“This right here is Gojō Satoru’s sibling. A special grade just like him. Do be careful if you happen to cross paths,” Getō warns before slipping the photo back into his pocket.

Chōsō only grunts, his disinterested eyes moving off to the side.

The air around them is almost electric and soon enough the light overhead bursts, but neither flinch.

Chōsō assumes it’s the youngest Gojō’s technique, but he’s not certain, nor does he dwell on it for long, his brain becoming inebriated from the scent.

Neither move and the once fierce expression on the other’s face slowly morphs into one of trepidation, scent souring and causing him such great discomfort that he lets out a timorous whine he couldn’t withhold.

Chōsō’s skin suddenly becomes hot, tingling all throughout his limbs, and something stirs to life deep within himself.

Those pretty eyes still have him locked in place before they’re gone within a blink of an eye.

“Satoru!”

The ever thinning bit of control he has is snapping thread by thread, and he’s down to the last few strings.

“Y/N, for once just listen to me and get the hell out of here! Go warn the others, I’ll be fine!”

Dark purple eyes watch as Gojō Y/N struggles for a moment before unwillingly turning tail to leave the scene, effortlessly blasting away any trouble that stood in the way. Chōsō was surprised that Getō even allowed it to happen.

But that’s beside the point. The moment the younger Gojō disappeared, Chōsō felt like everything was going to collapse around him, his mind struggling to stay coherent and rational, his scent unknowingly stinking up the room.

Find Gojō Y/N and cage the sorcerer in his arms.

‘Follow the scent, take Gojō Y/N, keep safe. Don’t let Y/N die like I let my brothers die.’

Despite wanting to give chase, the small, single strand of sanity left in him told him not to do such a thing. He’d be what he’d criticized other Alphas for. He may be half curse but he’s no insatiable animal.

“Woah,” he heard Mahito remark. “Looks like we’ve got a problem. Chōsō seems to have finally hit his rut! Talk about bad timing!”

‘Rut? This is what a rut feels like..?’

“Is that so?” Getō croons, with a wicked look of delight. He studies Chōsō’s panting figure before taking a peek back at a shaken Satoru.

“Pfft, it was all because of Gojō Y/N! That’s hilarious! Are you a masochist, Chōsō since you’re getting all excited from a kick to the face? Priceless!” Mahito giggles.

Chōsō can see Satoru begin to struggle even more despite it being futile, he’s bound up so tight and soon going to be swallowed into the prison realm. He’s snarling furiously and his feet even manage to crack a few tiles underneath him, but Chōsō can tell from his panting there’s a bit of panic.

For a moment Chōsō can get him. His family is possibly in danger and he can do nothing but struggle.

He’s mildly offended though since the last thing he wants to do is hurt the ones he’s drawn to. But he understands so he doesn’t take it to heart.

Chōsō’s attention soon goes back to Getō who throws his head back, laughter spilling his lips. “Oh, this is unexpected!”

The laughter only pisses Satoru off and excites Mahito. And meanwhile Chōsō is left with anticipation along with the others.

After his fit of laughter Getō hums with amusement and turns to look at Chōsō, smiling oh so sweetly with an evil twinkle in his eyes. “Well, go on then, Chōsō.”

Chōsō blinks, hearing his own ragged breathing and the permission granted from Getō.

“Go on and hunt Y/N down if you wish. It’s a shame I couldn’t capture them both, but this can work just as well if you capture—.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Satoru practically howls, nearly foaming at the mouth.

But Getō ignores him, still staring daggers into Chōsō’s eyes. “Go, Chōsō. Take what’s yours.”

Chōsō feels disgust bubbling in his gut at his words, feeling that the ravenette meant something more sinister when he told him that. But he takes this chance and runs, wanting to find the person that triggered his rut and hope the ache goes away. He also hopes he can keep himself together.

You sprint like you never have before, the wind smacking your face and your lungs beginning to burn. Your heartbeat is like thunderous drums and the air doesn’t seem breathable to you.

That scent.

The scent of elderberries, a pinch of spice, and a touch of blood…

It’s imprinted in your mind no matter how much you try to forget it.

There’s just no way that he’s your fated one.

The universe truly likes to play wicked games…

What’s worse is that it seems like your meeting has brought upon his rut. You just hope to god that your cycle won’t come about from this.

You always take your medication, never missing a beat, but when alphas and omegas typically meet their fated pair or pairs it sometimes doesn’t matter, a cycle may or may not occur.

The best case for you obviously is that if you do hit your cycle, it comes after the battle. If you’re still alive anyways..

So you keep your fingers crossed and push it aside, trying to find the nearest group around.

And thankfully it’s Nanami’s you run into.

Just as you’re about to break the news you’re swiftly cut off by Yūji bellowing out that your brother has been sealed from atop a building.

It makes your chest ache at the news.

“Yeah… S’what I wanted to say,” you pant.

“There’s still hope since we have you here,” Nanami soothes while striding up to you, keeping calm and collected as he typically did.

“There’s just one more problem..”

“And that is?”

“I… I ran into an alpha who’s in a rut,” you explain, leaving out the crucial detail so as to not embarrass yourself. “And he may or may not be coming after me. I didn’t stop to check because Satoru really wanted me out of there,” you continue before gasping, a familiar face appearing in your mind.

“Oh shit! Kento, I just remembered! Suguru— no .. Someone wearing his face is the one behind this.”

Nanami’s eyes widen just a tad and a heavy sigh leaves him. Ino and Megumi both also become alarmed in various degrees.

“That truly is a problem for us all… Here.” The blond alpha rubs his wrist glands against the ones at your neck, dousing you in his comforting scent and slowly muting out yours.

Megumi even comes over and rubs his and your wrists together, not saying a word and not meeting your appreciative stare.

Meanwhile, Yūji is still yodeling.

“Thanks, Gumi. Go ahead and get Yuji,” you tell him softly, ruffling the young alpha’s spiky hair.

The teenager only nods before heading off to get to his friend.

Ino comes over and slings an arm around you for support and to subtly put his own scent on you while Nanami’s nose twitches a few times.

“Your scent should be muted enough, and I’m sure blood and sweat will cover it even more so you should be okay.”

“Thanks, you guys didn’t have to,” you murmur with a weak smile, anxiety still nipping at your heels.

“What did he look like,” asks the blond as you three head up to meet Yuji.

“Dude looks like he’s on death’s doorstep. Like sickly pale looking, dark bags under his eyes, cute spiky space buns, and he’s wearing mostly white and got a purple vest.”

He hums. “Noted. Try to stay with someone if you can.”

You nod. Simple enough but not completely possible.

And as expected you were practically everywhere in Shibuya as the battle ensued, curses swarming the city and people that’s still within the veil being in danger.

You do your best to keep everyone safe, especially the kids, but when the ground underneath you suddenly gets sliced along with a street sign, you throw yourself down the subway where Yūji went not too long ago, slaughtering curses that stood in your way

The underground transit is in complete disarray. Broken glass, walls dented and crumblings, electrical wiring exposed and popping, and blood splattered almost everywhere like it was some art project and the blood is red paint.

Suddenly a wall that connected from the bathroom crumbles away slightly, revealing a bit of pink hair peeking from the other side.

Your feet are already moving, Yūji’s name nearly falling from your lips as dread grips you tight and unforgivingly.

And there’s that smell again, only this time it’s ten times stronger…

Right as you get inside you see the man from before standing over Yūji’s body seemingly about to deliver the killing blow.

Fated person or not, no one was going to hurt the people you care about.

So with your technique you manipulate the water spurting out from the pipes and use it to lock onto the man’s throat, and with an aggravated cry you swing him around and throw him through the wall he made Yuji hit, feeling an immense amount of satisfaction from the pained cry he made.

With him being spat out on the other side seemingly laid out for now and away from Yūji, you rush to cradle the young omega’s bloodied body, fretting over him and trying to figure out how to deal with his shoulder.

You don’t have much to help him and you snap at Sukana to do something, but the bastard for once doesn’t have anything smart to say, the boy still unconscious and bleeding. You pick him up and rush out of the bathroom when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“W-Wait… Please don’t… Don’t go…”

A mixture of anger, stress, and touch of guilt form a cocktail in your gut at his wheezing, panic filled voice.

You hear him dragging his body desperately amongst the rubble to try and get to you.

“You must got a few loose screws in that head of yours,” you spit, turning to look at him.

“N-No, please I—! I had no idea he’s my brother!” he coughs, his pale lips stained with blood.

Your stiffen, your grip on the wounded boy tightening slightly. Either he’s really lost it , or… No, he’s definitely lost it.

“Please I—.”

“ I can’t help you ,” you force out. “Especially when you’re currently the enemy .” And with that, you force your feet to move, leaving him behind.

And Chōsō only watches you with a helpless expression, tears stinging his eyes and a pained noise leaving him as he gives up…

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sabokunsmalia · 11 months

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ʚ 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘 ɞ | trafalgar d. law inking you his tattoo.

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: trafalgar d. law & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), implied smut, naked breasts, staring which comes off a little perv 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: so, i have tattoos, and i would let law give me one any given second of the day. here i thought about getting law's death tattoos those past days haha. so, i placed it around the collarbones and the last little peak of the heart would be in the valley of the breasts.

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ryujnn · 1 year

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► akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ is there any room for me?

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ the past few days of your life we’re unexpected, yet so much fun. people seem to come a lot in your life… and also leave.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ nsfw. growing sexual tension. cunnilingus (oral — fem receiving). violence. use of weapons. mentions of blood and wounds. mention of murder.

► note ﾟ｡ ⋆ woah… i realized how much potential this story had and just whipped this up and rereading the whole thing. i missed akuma dearly,,

Dear Mom,

Checking out on the party before it had even started — you’d be shocked with the most recent news. You’re missing out on the fun, you know? All the plans we set out are now in motion. And you’re missing it.

But I’m missing you much more.

So much more.

I have so many questions for you. So many I wished I had asked, but I spent that time crying next to your cooling body. Now I’m left questioning myself.

Mommy, am I strong?

Am I still the strongest?

Even if I don’t feel it?

“R…” You opened your mouth, all of the saliva completely dispersing and leaving you stuck with cotton. The smallest step forward and your husband was grabbing your arm, stopping you. You on the other hand was just too shocked to even care. “Rika? Wh… How’d you know where I lived?”

“I followed you.”

Weird. “Um…” You’re trying to mentally piece together how you were gonna crack this one. “How are you alive? I— They captured you, right? That’s what they said.”

“They didn’t catch me.” Her voice is silky and posh. She’s holding herself with such good demeanor, you wouldn’t be able to tell she struggled half her life. “The woman they captured and killed was not me, yet another one of your father’s previous affairs. She threatened to tell the rest of your family members about his adultery and she was hunted down around the time I fled. They just covered my story up with the poor woman who lost her life.”

That’s absolutely heartbreaking. Not necessarily surprising, though. Your family is sick and twisted.

The metaphorical armor wrapped around you dissolved into the air, brushing past the skin on people’s faces. You felt empathetic towards her now.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” She continues, wary of her surroundings. And your husband. “I’m still alive because of my appearance change. They can’t remember what I look like, at least I pray not. I — I returned this morning. Heard your father’s big fight is soon… he had his beloved batch of boys, huh?”

You shook your head slowly, “Nope. Ryou and I will be fighting.”

It was then when you had actually noticed Rika. She was absolutely alluring. The silence was definitely inviting for you to look at her — to examine her. She had her hair cut to her shoulders, a few strands covering her forehead and bringing attention to her doe eyes. The longer she stood there, it was like watching a child. As if she was caught staying up too late when her parents came home.

She wasn’t threatening at all.

“Oh… congratulations,” Rika responds with a small smile, picking nervously at her fingers. She’s clearly spewing thoughts but there’s no way she could get them out of her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from Himari. You will win and change the trajectory of the clan — I know you can. It’s pretty bad, I don’t want another woman to experience what I… we did.”

All that time she’d been standing in front of you, you had forgotten who Rika actually was. What she had been through — and once it all clicked, you couldn’t stop your feet from moving.

You weren’t staring at a threat, you were staring at a survivor.

Escaping the Shio clan, just the hospital alone at that, with a new born baby and taking care of her all on her own with no experience. Starting fresh with no money, nowhere to live and not knowing anyone — yet managing to be alive and well, with a daughter who is in perfect shape.

The power of women.

“I’m sorry.” Are the only words that left your mouth, kicking your heels off in the midst of your walk before stopping in front of Rika, raising your arms to her shoulders and resting on your chin on her bone. “My mother thought you were a trooper. She loved telling me stories about you. You’re like a folklore.”

She returns the hug, giving you a small squeeze. “Am I?” There’s a slight shake in her voice, but she quickly covered it up with a laugh. “I’d rather the attention be on my princess. She’s what kept me going.” She hasn’t hugged anyone other than her daughter, nor has anyone felt sympathetic enough to acknowledge what she had been through. All of this hits Rika like a truck and she’s fighting back the urge to scream up the past twenty something years.

“Thank you.” Rika whispers.

She knows her daughter is good hands — protected by many people now. She knows she’s protected, too. She’s happy now.

The door clicks as it closes, resting backwards against the wood. You sighed softly, bending down to place your heels next to the door, hearing the bathroom door in front of you open.

“How’d it go?” Gojo asks from inside the bathroom, tossing his towel out and onto the floor.

The towel lands slightly ahead of you, rolling your eyes and walking forward to grab it. “Went okay. We had some wine and talked for a bit, she got tired and I let her sleep in my room.”

“I would be too if I were her,” His voice grows closer, alerting you that he’d be in front of you once you stood up. “I mean, it’s weird, right? I wonder why she came back.”

After folding the towel, you held it to your chest and looked ahead of you. All the breath in your lungs halted, stopping you from answering his questions or even responding.

There Gojo Satoru stood — in almost all of his glory. You’d never seen him like this… this close up. The black muscle shirts he wore around the house definitely didn’t give him this much justice; you can see every ripple, scar and crease on his body and it’s absolutely fantasizing. Natural contour and highlight on his skin — you’re almost folding at the sight.

“Uh…” Your voice is a little shaky, you’re so caught up in trying to pretend you’re not warming up from seeing his bare chest. “Yeah. Me too. It’s… weird.”

Gojo looks up from his hands, catching the stutter and sudden shift in your demeanor. He’s got an eyebrow cocked in confusion until it drops and he’s smirking right down at you. This is cute. He’s never seen you like this and now he’s addicted to it.

Speechless, timid and borderline submissive.

“Got somethin’ on your chin there,” His abrupt words cause you to blink hard, forcing your eyes back up go his face. You’re hot — you’re sure that you’re visibly burning up as well. Gojo takes a step forward, causing you to shuffle in spot and he’s enjoying it. “It’s not polite to stare, you know that.”

You’re trying your damn hardest to think of something witty, but your brain isn’t working. If anything, it’s clouded, and you’re not sure what to say without stuttering.

“I just… I noticed some of those scars on your chest and I wanted t-to, uh… just look at them.”

Verrrry convincing.

“You can touch ‘em, sweetheart.”

And so you obliged, reluctantly. Hesitant movements until your bare palm was against your husband’s skin, raising and lowering the stroke to feel every inch of him. There’s a soft shudder under his breath, specifically whenever your fingers brush against newer marks.

All in all, it’s intimate. He’s biting back the urge to grab you by the shoulders and you’re not too far off from begging for it.

Plus, you’ve only got a week. Right?

“Mark your calendars, request time off, set a reminder, and grab your popcorn — watch the Shio Clan’s Generational fight next week, here in this very room.”

Did you want to die being a virgin? Getting married and completing staying celibate, never being able to tell stories to the Shio women up in… whatever heaven was real. They’d talk your head off and call you a disgrace for not trying something so… sexy.

You can just see it now…

(“We saw you down there, married to that hunk of man. Gojo Satoru, right? How was the sex? Oh.. you didn’t have sex? Kiss him at all? No?! What—”)

The thought of going out without at least knowing if he’s a good kisser is making the hair on your arms stand. Maybe it was the wine? You felt like some horny teenager from the movies you watched.

“Would you touch me like this?” You transitioned to dragging a finger down his chest, digging your nail gently over his belly button and following his happy trail.

Right above his boxers.

Gojo pulls his eyebrows together. Is he dreaming? Is his ears playing tricks on him because he’s been wishing to touch you — praying for a moment like this with you? It’s gotta be a dream.

“You want me to touch you?”

Without thinking twice, your hands reached to the zipper behind you. The noise of it unzipping completely catches Gojo’s attention.

Now it’s Gojo’s turn to goggle. He’s gazing at every inch of your body being exposed as the dress fell further and further, and all of a sudden — it’s harder for him to breathe in. Until the fabric pooled at your feet, he’s blinking a lot slower, not wanting to miss a single second.

Normally you’d be extremely self conscious, bare as a stripper for a man you just previously despised. But something about your husband drinking you in like a bottle on the rocks is making your stomach do flips.

And it’s cartwheeling down to your core.

“It’s…” You began, taking a small step forward. “Not polite to stare, Satoru.”

Your husband chuckles, though his voice sounds a bit lower. Even once his eyes raised from your figure to your very own irises, they were way more hooded than before. He’s drinking you up and not missing a damn drop.

One deep breath, Gojo takes the advantage to close the gap between you both. He leans down just slightly, hovering over your height. He’s looking at you like you’re vulnerable, like he’s got the upmost control of you. And at this moment… you swear he does.

The tension is cutting the air with a butcher knife, absolutely murdering it to the point you both don’t know how to breathe anymore. Basic human actions have become tantalizing and you’d both rather drink each other up.

“I can have this thing off in seconds,” Gojo hooks his finger under your bra, tugging you forward by just the slightest. Watching you trip forward, following his moves, even the bounce of your breasts almost had him rolling his eyes back. “Just need to hear you say it, pretty.”

You don’t realize how pathetic or how fast you nodded your head, practically pleading with your eyes, but once Gojo heard those four words leave your tainted lips, he couldn’t help but oblige.

“Please, take it off,” You whisper, batting your mascara coated eyelashes up to the man before you. “Take it all off.”

And what man would Gojo Satoru be if he didn’t keep his word, especially when you asked so politely. Within those last few seconds, your husband closes the gap between you both by pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t forced or rushed — nothing like the kiss you both shared at your wedding.

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was a welcoming kiss. He wasn’t kissing you as if this was your last week on earth, he kissed you as if this was the first day of the rest of your life.

It was intoxicating and addictive, something you never wanted to end.

Once you wrapped your arms around the nape of Gojo’s neck, he reaches down to grab the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his height. Your legs wrapped around his abdomen, securing you around him.

He’s got one hand propped under your ass, holding you up while his other closes the bathroom door behind him, locking it right after.

Whaaaats goin on?

Times moving faster now that you’re having fun, that’s always been something you noticed as a child. Even in this moment, when your husband has you sat on the marble of his bathroom’s countertop, popping your bra off with just one hand, exposing your perky nipples to the brisk air around you, time is moving fast.

His soft, pink lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with the sloppiest and nastiest ‘pop!’ you’ve ever heard — time is moving fast.

Gojo settling onto his knees, two skilled and slender fingers pulling your panties down your thighs, your calves, and then unhooking them from your feet. He’s pushing your legs apart, visibly and audibly falling apart at the sight alone of your glistening, pretty pussy. He swears he saw the light shine off of just how wet you were.

“Fuck..” He whispers, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. “This okay? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nod,. You’d be damn to admit it, but something about this approval for consent was… sexy. As if he wants you as bad as you want him. Gojo’s asking you for permission.

“Please do something.” Being so bare and vulnerable, all for the man you hated just months ago, had your back arching in attempts to feel something. Anything.

Now you’re begging? Anything else and he might as well bust in his fresh pair of underwear. Gojo promises he’d be gentle… but all he wants to do is shove his face right between your legs and eat you out like it’s the last thing he’d ever do.

Like it’s the last thing he’d ever taste.

He starts slow, licking from your entrance to that little bud that has you twitching, giving it special attention with extra kisses and tugs from his lips. You’re moaning softly, weary of the guest that had been on the other side of the house — nonetheless — you wanted to prevent waking her up and facing your trenched reality.

Your head tilts back, pooring your posture with the slightest buck of your hips. The way your lips press together, fighting back all the noise that threatened to spill from them, it told your husband everything he needed to know.

He was making you feel good.

His tongue flicked at your sensitive bud faster, and his two skillful fingers plunged in and out of your soaking sex, causing wet noises to echo in the halls of Gojo’s bathroom. It sounded absolutely pornogrophic, something straight off the web. This is every man’s dream.

“Taste amazing, baby.” Gojo mumbles under you, tongue out and flat on your pussy. He’s curling his tongue ever so often, catching your eyes and simply grinning at that expression you have.

The look and the smile was just too much for you. He’s clear of the affect he has on you, he’s bathing in it.

Gojo’s forgotten to control himself and now he’s slurping and sucking, licking and lapping up everything you have to offer. Like he’s a dog. The warm feeling between your legs began to grow out to your thighs and your lower stomach, and the better it felt, the more you wanted to push your husband from between your legs.

Gojo doesn’t seem to let up soon. He’s blowing bubbles with his spit on your clit and using his tongue to spread it around. How slutty would it be to cum for the first time … ever … on your husbands face?

“Mmmf — Satoru…” It was a warning call. Your significantly smaller hand reached forward to grab at his soft, milky white and wet hair. The smallest tug got a noise out of him, snapping him out of his completely pussy drunken state of mind and back up to you. “Think ‘m…,” You chuckle breathlessly. “think I’m about to...”

He chuckles between your legs, pulling away for the slightest second and smiling his pearlies right up at you — with a wet smile. “Give it t’me,” Dipping his head between your legs again, aiming straight for your clit. “Make a fucking mess, sweetheart.”

And like the perfect wife that you are, or tend to be, you give his roots one more tug before using your other to grip beside you, mumbling out a string of praises to the God’s above you, before you, and even the one between your legs. Spasming with Gojo’s head between your legs, that warm feeling snapping out of your stomach and crashing over you like a category four hurricane.

Satoru assists you, rubbing your clit with the fat of his tongue all the while fucking his fingers in and out of you, bettering your high. Slowing his movements once your body began to come down; making it all more pleasurable for you.

There’s no way that just happened.

“Fuck…”

“Damn right.” Gojo chuckles, blowing soft air against your swollen and sensitive pussy. He used his thumb to clean his mouth, popping it in and licking the etcetera from the pad of his finger.

He’s up on his feet, still watching you recover from the only yet best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. Another quick laugh before he steps forward and cups your soft jaw into his hands.

“That feel good?” He asks, more out of curiosity rather than a boost to his ego.

It was nice seeing him like that. Domestic. Vulnerable. He’s always on his toes and doesn’t ever let anyone in — so this… this was nice.

All you do in return was nod and smile, tossing your arms over his shoulders once more and burying your head into his chest. “Mhm.”

“Let’s go shower then.”

“Up and atom!”

A bold voice, one that wasn’t your husbands, woke you up from your sleep. You stirred lightly, peeking one of your eyes open to not only see one person — but several people standing in your husband’s bedroom.

You remember falling asleep with Gojo resting on your back and your head under the pillow, and now that you’ve reached your arm to locate him; he’s not next to you anymore.

“Where…”

“Mornin’ angel.” There’s that familiar voice. That voice that’s given you comfort and a sense of safety.

Oddly enough, you were okay with it.

You huffed, pushing up from the bed to turn and identify whoever had been in this bedroom so early. It was half the damn school, you could say.

“Time to get up, Y/N!” Panda smiles, two fists sturdy on his hips. “We heard you have a week to experience some fun, so we’re gonna spend the next seven days together!”

Seven days?!

You jump up, completely facing the people in the room. Nanami and Gojo are in the corner, small smiles on their face — this is obviously something they planned… while the students were standing around your bed.

Megumi, Panda, Inumaki and Maki — even the two new students that’s working with Gojo; Itadori and Nobara.

You rub your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ears. “Thanks, guys, but you don’t have to waste a week on me.”

Maki gasp, Inumaki also adding a head shake at your response.

“We’re not wasting a week, Shio—sensei,” Megumi sits on the foot of the bed, sending you a soft look. “Everyone cares about you. We want to make sure you have a nice week.”

Nobara and Itadori share a look. They’ve never seen Megumi act so caring, even if he expressed it with a straight face.

You only had small interactions with Megumi, but considering he didn’t have much family left, everything you did within the span of knowing him meant a lot.

Even if it was bringing him lunch, scolding Gojo for him, helping him inside or outside of school. The small things built up and he can’t imagine seeing anything happen to you.

“Yeah,” Maki is trying to contain her excitement. She’s got her hands behind her back, fighting a smile. “Plus, we’re gonna incorporate fighting into the stuff we’re doing! Building muscles while creating memories.”

This is odd to you, foreign even. You’ve never had someone care about you, cared if you lived or died — and now these people want to give you a week to remember, encouraging you to spend your possibly last week alive wisely, with them, while having as much fun as possible.

You look over to Gojo, who’s got this smile on his face, one that hasn’t budged since he’s seen you wake up in his shirt; and then back to the kids. This is what it feels like to be wanted. Not just by your mother, but by everyone.

Now you’ve got to fight back tears. You haven’t cried since the death of your mother, and the overwhelming feeling of actively being appreciated by people is starting to jab at you.

No crying. Not yet.

You answered all the kids questions, settled all their anxiety and calmed their nerves with a smile. That bright, beaming smile that your mother loved and the one your husband is falling in love with. The smile everyone recognizes; the smile that pops into people’s head when your name is mentioned.

“Thank you guys,” You sit straight up on the bed. “I appreciate it. Let’s have the best week ever, okay?”

All the students smiled and nodded in unison.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Itadori smiles and throws a fist into the air, “Baseball!” He’s ecstatic, and you could make a wild guess that this was his idea. “That’s okay, right?”

You laugh, reinsuring Itadori once more. “I love baseball, and I’m kinda good at it,” You share a smile with the boy, hearing different reactions at the new information about the sport. “How about after, we come back and have a sleepover?”

That gets another rise. Everyone looks excited, partially for Megumi (he hates sleeping around Itadori) but aside from his little pout, the rest of the students agree to having a night over their teachers house.

Nanami pushes off the wall, clapping his hands together to gather the kids attention. “Okay, let’s give Shio some time to get ready. You all can help me load the bus back up.”

Following instructions, everyone except Gojo trotted out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Now it was silent and homey, resulting in your husband walking over to you with a small grin.

He crawls onto the end of the bed, sitting back on his legs in front of you. “Hi.” One word with his gentle smile and you’re grinning back.

“Hi.” You respond, reaching forward to grab his hands. You fiddled with them nervously, twirling his wedding ring around his finger. “Did you do all of this?”

“Not all. I told them your big fight was next week and they came up with all the ideas, I just found a way to make it all happen.”

You pushed your bottom lip out, climbing up from the duvet to his height, tossing your arms around his neck. This was a feeling Gojo could get used to, one he wanted to feel every moment and every second of his life. He wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles you back.

“Thank you, ‘Toru.”

He grins once more, giving your body a small squeeze. “Don’t thank me yet.”

A baseball game without your brother intervening? Sounds like a plan to you.

There were two separate teams; Your team and Gojo’s. A friendly fire between the couple who had an arranged marriage but is now starting to fall for one another — doesn’t sound scary at all.

You’d assume they’d take baseball seriously, like there was a grand prize at the end, but they weren’t. Everyone was having a good time, playing for experience and to grow, and thankfully there was no jujutsu power allowed.

The entirety of this game you’d been… laughing.

Smiling and laughing at the antics of the children you were working with. Giggling with the other teachers when Gojo grew red over the fact that his team was losing. Even moments like this where a fight needed to be broken up.

“Hold on!” Nobara shoves her hat onto the ground, pointing to the girl in front of her as she made her way over.

Nobara likes a fair game, what she didn’t like was Mai bringing a pitch machine to protect her fresh manicure. Itadori and Panda are the first to get up, walking over to catch Nobara before she gets to Mai. “Kugisaki’s snapped!” They warned. “It’s a free-for-all!”

Considering she was on your team, you followed behind the other students to calm the issue as the adult that you were.

“Alright,” You walk between both girls, facing Nobara to quickly calm her. “You’re a good batter. You can hit these even without machine, let’s just try it, okay?”

Nobara sends another threatening look to Mai before huffing and turning around to walk away. You chase after her, bending down to whisper one more thing into her ear.

“Bet she sucks anyway.” You cup your hands around your mouth so no one else hears what you said but Nobara.

And the game continued peacefully. The pitching machine was ditched after being beaten up by someone (Nobara ‘accidentally’ hit the ball into) and everything was now going fairly.

The energy overall felt like a highschool game, it was fun, quick and a bunch of dirty talk had been spit from one team to the other. Granted, it wasn’t anything harmful. Aside from another student getting swatted upside the head with a ball, the experience was great to you!

And once the sun began to set, everyone declared the game over.

All except one.

“Last bat,” Gojo walks up to you, flipping the bat so that the handle faced you. “I’ll pitch.”

You perused your lips, accepting the bat from him. You’ve never batted in front of anyone, only your mother, considering your brother would always swoop in and take the attention.

It was like you were a child again.

“Okay!” You smile, jumping up once before making your way over to the correct base.

“You got this, Shio-sensei!”

“Beat Gojo-sensei!”

You chuckled under your breath, spreading both legs and tapping the bat onto the home plate. Gojo sends you a look, asking if you’re ready, and you respond with a nod and the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.

The dim of the sky kissing your skin, the smile he’s seen all day is becoming a drug to him and as each second passed, he watched you grow more and more happy. More excited.

That’s until he raises his arm and leg, ready to pitch, and he see’s your face drop. A mix of fear, shock and confusion decorates your face and he no longer sees his happy wife, he doesn’t see a carefree woman bandaging her inner child anymore —

he sees twelve year old you.

He sees the child who’s spotlight got taken from her.

By her bastard of a brother.

Gojo drops the ball and quickly flips his infinity back on. He doesn’t turn around, he knows he’s safe, and he keeps his eyes on you and the students to assure your safety as well.

“Ryou.” Is all your husband says, crossing his arms over his chest. He won’t give him the satisfaction of a look, he’s got more important things on his mind right now.

Your brother laughs behind him, taking a small step beside him. He’s only got his eye on the prize; you. “Hey there, brother-in-law,” Ryou shoves his hands into his pockets. “Think I got her good, huh? Did’ya see her face? She went all…” He mimics your reaction, dramatically frowning and pretending to claw his eyes out.

“Who is that?” You hear one of the students whisper, and then you’re suddenly snapped back into reality.

You sniffle, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. You’d be stupid to turn your back, but your brother would be much more of an idiot to try to attack you when you’re not looking and your husband’s right beside him.

You turn to face the students, squatting down to catch their attention and block your brother from their view. “He’s not important, okay?” You ask, which they all nodded in return. “He’s a dangerous guy, so Gojo’s going to take you all back inside and then we can get home in time for the sleepover, right?”

You asked Rika to set up the sleepover and pick out some snacks for everyone. You even offered her to invite her daughter since she and the students were around the same age — that way if they decide to stay, she’d have a few friends.

Now, the only plan was to make it home.

Once you pushed up from your feet, you began to make way to your husband. What a fearful sight to see and an awful predicament to be in. You could be killed at any second if it was up to Ryou.

“Go.”

One word that held so much power. You stood just a few steps from your husband, you knew if you got too close that he’d be a superhero.

But this isn’t his battle to fight.

He doesn’t budge whatsoever, he looks at you like you’re playing a joke and even dazzles a smile at you, proving his point further.

He’s not going anywhere without you.

“I mean it, Satoru,” You couldn’t say too much, not without giving away too much information and endangering multiple lives. “Please… let me handle this.”

Now he’s reading you. Gojo frowns his eyebrows before beginning his path to the students. He stops besides you, making sure too keep his eyes on the kids in front of him while you kept track of your brother.

“You don’t die today.”

You couldn’t help but smile slowly, “Yes sir.”

The crucial next seconds of silence could’ve been your cause of death, but once the gate to the kids shut closed and you knew the people you loved and cared for were behind protection.

You didn’t hesitate.

You reached your arm back, looking over to the gate once more and starting a fire at it. It wasn’t too big that they couldn’t see, but it was big enough to risk a good third degree burn if they’d try to escape.

“Oo, where’d you learn that?”

Now your eyes are on your brothers, orbs battling for dominance. “Easy,” You’re stalling for the right moment, now starting to pace around your brother, keeping a large distance between you two. “But, I’m sure it comes naturally to you. You don’t even need to try, huh?”

Ryou chuckles. “You’ve gotten smarter too.” He’s starting to pick up on the pacing, and part of him is nervous. He’s never seen such a side from you, you’ve always been obedient, never one to pick a fight.

What was going on today?

Ryou meets you half way and bumps into you, ruining your pattern of a circle, grabbing your shirt to keep you still.

“What’s this?” He asks, practically snarling at you. That cocky, annoying smile never dropping from his lips. “Trying to show off for your husband and a few amateur sorcerers? You can do better.”

You’re way to nervous to physically harm this man, that could go left and you’d be injured before the big fight. Possibly killed. So you opt for your power, pushing a hand forward, manipulating the air around you to ball up and shove into his stomach, sending him tumbling.

You took a few steps back, enough space to look up and check the moon shining down at you. You’re not mentally ready to brawl with your brother. You’re not ready to die yet.

“Ryou…” You began. Instant regret.

He straightens himself back up before making his way over to you, a grin on his lips. “Shouldn’t have done that, cheeky.”

And before you know it, the same method is returned to you, except the pain is tripled and you’re being sent back flying, your back slamming against the gravel on the ground.

You could feel each piece of gravel, rock and grain of sand pierce your skin. The wind was knocked from your lungs to your head, blacking your vision for a second.

“Shio-Sensei!” You hear one of the students cry out.

Something about hearing someone call for you… strangely made you want to get back up. When your brothers around, no one roots for you. No one cares about you — or even notices you. Not when the Star of Africa is near.

But right now… at this moment… they’re rooting for you. Everyone behind that stray of fire, blocked by a gate, watching two siblings fight one another.

They’re calling for you. They’re supporting you.

“Shio-Sensei, please!”

The sound of cracking fire protecting those innocent kids — along with the calls for your name. You’re up. You’re on your feet. This adrenaline was perfect.

“That…” You began, brushing your hands on your clothes and cleaning yourself from the dust. “Was weak.”

Another boost: the face your brother makes when he’s bitched at for the first time. He realizes that no one’s on his side here… his daddy isn’t here to boost him either… he’s alone now.

He’s in your shoes.

“What did you say to me?” Ryou’s fuming, you can smell it. From the smoke coming out of his ears to the ground he’s shaking under him. Pure, firey, rage.

In return, all you can do is smile endearingly and stretch your arm out beside you, hands empty. “I said that was,” For a split second, you only had one chance to prove yourself. You ignored your consciousness and the energy around you. Within seconds, your mind flatlines and there’s a ringing in your ear for a millisecond.

For just a quick second, earth around you had disappeared.

Then reappeared.

After the quick moment of focus, you look over to your stretched out arm — and in your hand is a sword. Hah, take that Nanami. Manipulating space isn’t as hard as it sounds.

Not giving a moment for Ryou to blink, your swinging your armed hand towards your brother — tossing the sword over to catch in your other hand and switch positions before he could retaliate.

“Weak.” You finish, huffing a breath.

Your students are behind the cage jumping and clapping, watching their teacher in action — amazed at what they see. Your husband on the other hand is trembling in his shoes.

He could easily get past the fire, and his plan was to intervene when need be. He knows you can handle your own and defend yourself — but he also knows that you’re fighting off of rage right now, and your movements and thinking process is sloppy and clouded.

He doesn’t want to step in too late, but he also doesn’t want to jump to the rescue and portray you as weak.

Ryou on the other hand takes a small step back. His phone begins ringing in his basketball shorts, and he’s quick to grab the device and answer it.

And as he listens to the recipient speak, he looks down at his chest. He couldn’t ignore the oozing feeling in his chest. His skin grew hotter by the second, and the dust particles kissed his wounds as the wind blew them around.

One massive slash across his chest. The blade was so sharp that it cut past his clothes and skin, resulting in a pretty bad leak. He’s shocked with himself for missing such a lousy attack — more so, his sister was the one to do it.

No words were exchanged for the twelve second call. Ryou simply ends the call and returns his phone into his pocket. Raises his gaze from the gash to your eyes and lets out a chuckle. A bitter yet cocky laugh. As if he was still laughing at you.

“You know,” Your brother looks up to the sky, the waning gibbous shining above. “I think we’ll plan your funeral a little more organized than mom’s.”

Weak. It doesn’t really affect you, Ryou’s never been ‘momma’s boy’. More of a spoiled brat. The anger he wanted out of you wasn’t granted, it made you yawn. You just insulted your brother, twice, and gave him a remarkable wound on his chest… and he’s not fighting back.

He’s stalling.

“Not on your game today?” You’re focusing your energy into your arm, manipulating the air around you to forcefully stick your sword onto the ground. “It’s mediocre, everything you’re saying. How’s that gash, though?”

“I can barely feel it.” Ryou’s quick to respond, “Just thought you’d want to know. You’d have the best funeral out of the three, I’m sure of it.”

Three? You try your hardest not to visibly be confused, but your brother already see’s you doing the math in your head. One, your mother. Metaphorically, two would be you.

There wouldn’t be a third.

Maybe your brothers sick. He’s been talking out of the ass for the past few minuets and keeping up with him is slightly throwing you off your game. He’s absolutely stalling.

“Three? Can you even co—” Oh. “Count…” All of the green of envy and revenge on your face had melted, returning you back to your normal state. Afraid and scared.

“G—…” You’re stumbling backwards, still keeping an eye on your brother. “Gojo!!”

As soon as he saw your state change, he was itching to get across the gate. All he needed to hear was your voice. Your plea. In seconds he’s by your side, turning you to face him. You’re not afraid of Ryou sneaking up, you’re not afraid of anyone’s safety with your husband being here.

Except Rika.

“I need… we need to go home, now.” Your panicking, your hands have began trembling and the nerves in your body are shot.

Gojo’s looking at you, trying to read whatever you’re trying to get at, but he’s just as confused as you were earlier. Without even moving his head, your husband can just feel the devious smile on Ryou’s face. This is the reaction he wanted out of you, it’s what he wanted to see with his own eyes — live!

“What’s going on?” Gojo asks.

“…Rika.”

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sparkledfirecracker · 2 years

Text

Cookies & Cream

Summary: After running out of cookies, you bought Ransom some new ones.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Words: 1296

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit content, explicit language, female receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk. - if I forgot any, feel free to let me know.

A/N: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Got inspired by a tiktok video of a woman filling up the sweetes/candy drawer. Not my best work, but at least I enjoyed writing it. This is not beta read and only lightly proofread - all mistakes are my own.

Do not repost, translate or copy my work without my explicit permission. Reblogs, likes, comments or silent reading are all welcomed, but most of all enjoy!

By clicking ‘keep reading’, you agree to be 18 years or older!!!!

The shopping bag felt heavy in your hand while you walked through the front door. Getting rid of your drenched coat and shoes. Making your way through the modern mansion you were greeted by a comforting silence. Ransom hopefully had found the focus to work on his book.

You navigated your way through the darkness of the late autumnal afternoon hours. Finding a light source hitting the button. Placing the shopping bags on the counter. Your jeans uncomfortably sticking to your legs from getting damp from the pouring rain. Getting rid of the denim and kicking it aside on the heated kitchen tiles.

A confident thought rose that Ransom might not have noticed that you had ran out of cookies. The best source of inspiration, as he would say. You rolled your eyes thinking about it. You could think of one or two ways that had inspired him in the past, all involving your body.

Stuffing away all the shopping, you had decided to refill the draw of cookies and sweets. Filling up a container with your favourite sour pumpkins. Eating a few before you filled up the entire container, closing the lid and putting it back into place. Grabbing the next empty one and repeating the process.

The last four containers were reserved for Ransom’s precious cookies. Two for his beloved regular kind, the other two with the crème filled versions. One biscoff flavoured, the other vanilla. You smiled as you put them back in place.

You prepared the coffee piston, pushing down the coffee tamper on the freshly ground coffee. Placing the piston in place, you pressed the start button. Adding a piece of white biscoff flavoured chocolate, watching it melt as the coffee started pouring. As you waited you took a bite of the chocolate. It wasn’t as amazing as Ransom claimed it to be, but at least it reminded you of him.

When the cup was filled with the finest coffee, ruined by the chocolate inside, you grabbed a new pack of cookies and headed for the floating stairs. With each step the huffed groans of frustration became clearer. The aggressive tap of fingers hitting the keyboard almost made you giggle.

As soon as you peaked through the partially cracked open door, your heart ached. Ransom looked distraught and beyond frustrated. His hair all messed up, looking like he plucked it and ran his hand through the strands on numerous occasions.

“Are you going to keep staring?” He scoffed, aware of you standing outside his office.

“Can I interest you in a coffee and cookie break?” You asked, watching his eyes light up and lifting his head to meet your presence.

You walked towards him, placing the mug beside him. A silent question directed at him as your eyes glanced between him and the desk. He pushed off the edge, creating minimal space for you to slide in between.

The side of the mahogany wood pressing against your ass while you opened the pack of cookies. You took one out and Ransom moved forward, your knee raised pressing against his pants. His length was hard and throbbing against your knee.

Biscoff was his vice and he’d be willing to do anything for a bite of that cookie. You smiled at him, bringing the cookie to his lips. One bite and his hands were digging into your hips. His crotch grinding against your knee. A loud moan roared in his throat as he chewed on the bite you gave him. Enough for your core to respond to his actions.

“I need you.” He whispered, taking a second bite from the cookie you offered. His hips rocking against your knee with more purpose and intent.

He grabbed the opened package in your hand, sliding it further up his desk. Your lips eagerly pressed against his, swiftly making work of opening his pants. He grinned into your kiss as your cunt covered his fingers from your soaked core. Two of his lengthy digits worked past your panties, invaded your walls. Instantly coated as you hummed at the light stretch as Ransom scissored them inside of you.

“You make me so wet.” You sobbed.

Your head fell back as he gloriously stroked your sensitive walls. An electric spark sent through your veins as he curled them against the soft spot. He stood up, pushing your body down with his free hand.

His lips connected with your heated skin. Nipping at the delicate flesh made you arch your body, both your clothes covered stomachs flush against one another. His fingers retracted from your core, pushing past your lips, forcing you to taste yourself.

“Such a good girl.” He praised, as you cleaned off his fingers. Pulling back he fisted the material of your panties, tugging them down your legs in a hurry.

“Fuck me, Ransom.” You pleaded, wrapping your legs around his waist. You felt him line up at your entrance, teasing your slit as he rubbed himself against your core.

Your mouth opened again to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse gasp as he slammed inside you. Entirely filled to the brim as he gave you a second to get adjusted to him. His hand grabbing your chin forcing you to look at him.

Whimpering as he rocked his hips. Your cunt clenching around him, pulsating against the throbbing vessels of his cock. You bucked your hips against his meeting his rough thrusts needing to feel everything he was giving you.

“Fuck you feel so good.” Ransom whispered, pecking your lips. His hands grabbed your hips, fucking up into you.

His deathly grip surely would leave bruising later. A prized outcome of a good session as he would say. Making it up to you with a slow sex session in the shower. Massaging the flesh while he would fuck you against the fogged up glass. Letting the steam relax your muscles.

Your hands grabbed the edge of the desk, breathing against his lips, “fuck me harder.”

The width of his cock grazing all the right areas as you clenched around him.

“Fuck, that cunt of yours is dangerous.” Ransom groaned as he pounded you hard, pulling all the cries and whimpers from your body.

The coil in your stomach builded with each rut. Each snap pulling on the strings. Your raspy sounds mixing together, while the lewd noises found their own rhythm of bouncing off the walls. Screams falling from your lips as the strings snapped. A fire set ablaze through your body, finding its own course through your spasmed muscles.

Your rigid body trying to keep a pace underneath Ransom. Needing to feel him fill you up with every last drop he could give you. The frustrated creases on his face slowly faded and made place for that tender look you lived so much. One he barely showed, but one you came to treasure.

With each snap of his hip he released his cum, painting your walls with his white ropes of pleasure. His forehead dropped against yours while your eyes kept staring at the depth of your souls.

“Thank you for buying me more cookies.”

“I hoped you wouldn’t have noticed that we ran out.”

You both laughed as you kept laying on his desk for a few seconds. Stealing a few pecks as his warmth kept you filled and satisfied. Ransom reached beside you, the packaging of the cookies made a crinkle sound from his touch. His hand brought a cookie to his mouth.

“Truly the best after some sex.”

#lilos writing #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale fan fic #ransom drysdale fanfiction

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neonovember · 2 years

Text

Two Coffee’s

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp

It had been several weeks since you and Steve got into a routine, you would meet with him to discuss your husband, and he would be the omnipresent blanket of protection in the form of brooding men in dark cars stationed outside your apartment, the diner, your favourite coffee shop. His presence was present in every vessel and part of your life now, and it seems crazy that just 3 weeks ago you hadn't even down the man.

Now it was like he never left. Now it was like he was a part of your routine.

It’s that thought that lingers as you step outside the diner doors and into the chilly afternoon of the Brooklyn streets. With two cups of steaming coffee in hand, you march with a newfound determination towards the indiscreet black sedan that had been parked on the diner sidewalk since you walked through the doors that morning.

They may not speak to you directly, but you couldn’t find the heart to let them sit around for hours on end with nothing but the car heater and a carton of OJ. Especially against the winter breeze that felt like iced knives against your trembling skin.

You tap on the tinted glass gently, scrutinising the reflection that looked too exhausted and angry to really be you. There is a scuffle before the window is sliding until it reaches a quarter down. The man takes a moment to stare you down, hazel brown eyes with deep burly brows eyeing you before recognition clicks in him.

You’re Steves.

He looks at you expectedly, and you remember why you’re here in the first place, the borderline boiling coffee cups going unnoticed by your freezing hands.

You raise them up with a smile, and his eyes flicker to them. The man sitting in the driver's seat next to him bops his head as he catches your eye. Reaching across the brooding man whose stumbled jaw is currently working itself a beat, the man across from him with light eyes cracks an apologetic smile at his friend before accepting the coffee with a nod.

You don’t miss the bristled expression that adores the man as you hand his partner the drinks, all you can do is smile tightly before the window is sealed shut once again, and the only thing meeting your eyes is your reflection itself.

— -

“3 club sandwiches for table 18 hun, and ask if they'd like today’s apricot cobbler,” Caroline says in a rushed voice as she tied back the loose strands of hair escaping from a not-so-neat ponytail.

“You leaving already?” You reply mournfully, as you watch her sneak a few pastries into her duffel bag.

She whips her head up to look at you, her smile pulled down into a pouting frown

“Aww are you gonna mwiss me?” Caroline bubbles out in a screeching high baby voice.

“Ugh, you know I hate when you do that”

“Why do you think I do it” Caroline replies swiftly, wagging her eyebrows playfully

“Seriously though, I’m the only one on shift for the next” You pull up your sleeve to check your invisible watch “4 hours” You moan, following her as she rummages around the back kitchen searching for her phone charger.

A sound of trump escapes her throat as she eyes the hidden wire under a box of napkins

“No can do my beloved, Ron’s asked me over tonight. I think this time he's finally gonna give in” Caroline replies, as she looks over her shoulder smiling at me.

“You and that man. Jesus Caroline, you know it would be a bit easier to date someone..uh I don't know not married?” You gruff, shaking your head disapprovingly.

Caroline turn’s to you, rolling her eyes half-heartedly

“Not everyone can have Brooklyn's hottest mafia slash bachelor slash billionaire wrapped around our finger” Caroline replies, before laughing at your bugging eyes

I told you to keep that on the low dammit!” You hush at her with your hands, eyes searching the empty kitchen in case of eavesdroppers, or men donned in black. Either one scared the crap out of you.

“You know I would never tell a sole, these lips are sealed” Caroline replies, doing a zipping motion with her fingers

‘Yeah yeah, I do. I just wished you were here in case they- he shows up, you know?” You reply softly, gulping down the fear of even thinking of his name.

A look of recognition comes over Caroline’s features, before it is soon replaced with a fury that screams only fierce loyalty and bad decisions.

“Swear to god, if I ever see that man I’m putting a bullet through his skull” Caroline replies, her auburn brows furrowing with a look of determination that almost had you believing her.

“Mhm, with what? A silicon spatula?” You reply, eyebrows clocking up in disbelief, you used humour to mask all your emotions, not just the messed up ones.

“I was thinking a 47 Remington, maybe a shotgun! If I could just saw off the handle, I think it would look pretty good down his throat, don’t you?” Caroline smiles with that innocent look, her eyes shining and her cheeks pushing out the dimples on her left side.

“I would pay to see that” You giggle, before pouting your face as she gathers her bag

“You have Hazel on shift don't ya?” She replies as she notices your kicked-dog expression

“Yeah, but she's as helpful as a sac of potatoes. Too busy talking to Daniel to be of any help” You sigh, swiping a hand across your forehead

At the mention of her name, your eyes watch the young waitress leaning over the kitchen counter, loud boisterous laughter leaving her red rubbery lips as she tries and fails to cover her mouth. Her nails are painted a mossy green but are chipped from her constant biting, and every step of hers jingles from the beady jewellery that adorns her neck and ears.

She had gotten the job in less than a day, and spent less time serving customers than she did suggesting songs for Daniel's busted speaker. The power of connections and a pretty face ran especially deep in the service industry.

Being the restaurant manager’s neice also helped.

Caroline turns to you, shaving her hands in your face to squeeze your cheeks

“Worrin’ will give you wrinkles. She’ll help if she knows you need it. Problem is you never ask don't you?” Caroline replies, unwrapping her apron from her waist and hanging it onto the encrusted wooden hooker.

There was truth to Caroline's words, no matter how much you despised them. All your life you had to rely on yourself, didn't matter if you were in the dusty cabin of your mother's home or the ceiling-high walls of your husband's manor. hell accepting even Steves's proposal felt like pulling teeth, despite every day prior wearing you thin with the lack of protection you held walking through the streets of Brooklyn. You'd taken to wearing a hood most days quicker than you did accept Steve's protection.

“Okay well, women in society have largely been told that they are not allowed to age, so guess my wording is really just a fuck you to the world”. You reply, following her out the back kitchen and down the coordinator to the front counter.

Caroline's laugh echoes through the diner, as she smiles across at you.

“There is hope for us yet” She grins, saying a quick bye to Daniel before slamming the diner door behind her.

Not before screaming out to the bustling street side

“Ya hear that world? Y/N says a big FUCK you”

All you can do is smile brightly as the diner chimes jingle into the growing murmur of the Sunday lunch rush streaming from the diner booth surrounding you.

-- -

“When’s the last time you got laid, Steve?” Rumlows voice echoes in the large office, it's like sandpaper, that voice of his, and it irritates the raging headache pressing against Steve’s temple.

Steve scoffs back a disgruntled noise, shaking his head before flicking through the folded stack of papers left on his desk that morning.

“No, I mean it, they’re usually a sea of women that leave your floor, what happened?” Rumlow edges him, those busy eyebrows rising up in expectation, his bulky frame sitting hunched on the velvet chair across Steve’s.

Steve’s eyes flicker across to Rumlow, searching his face before drifting down to catch the seared tattoo peaking from his rolled sleeve. Rumlow had once been integrated into one of New York's more violent and unstable crime syndicates, the kind that dealt with human trafficking and selling girls like fucking stables.

Steve was already weary of his often violent and ill-tempered mood, the kind that ended up boiling into violent outbursts. But he needed men at the time, and Rumlow was like a trained dog, so he bit back his resignation and enveloped him into the family.

Oh, how he grew to regret it.

“I’m busy, alright, gotta keep fucking Brooklyn from sinking” Steve replies without looking up from his work, swift signature flying over the dotted lines of dock payments and shipments from Budapest.

Rumlow hums, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully, his eyes linger on Steve’s, analysing him carefully.

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That girl you’ve got us looking after, a goddamn wife, you know what he’ll do to us if he finds out we’ve got his little wife knee-deep in our shit?” Rumlow spits out, venom lacing his tone as his eyes glint with a certain fire.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Steve’s voice bellow from deep within his chest, but his face is unmoving, his features set in stone that refused to wither into clay.

“C'mon Steve, I know she’s a fine piece of ass but is she really that fucking worth it? I mean you’re putting a lot on stake for some tits-“. Before Rumlow can finish his sentence, a loud crunch envelops the room, Steve's fist flying into Rumlows mouth as he shatters his face.

The immediate scream of pain and anguish fills the room, as blood begins squirting out of Rumlows nose, spilling down his white shirt and staining it further, Steve has to restrain himself from killing the man for the way he talked about you.

The sound of Rumlows wheezing whimpers is drowned out by the loud stomps of boots against the hallway floors. The door opens with a thunk, slamming into the wall behind it before Bucky steps into the bloodied scene of Steve’s office.

“Fuck sake Steve” Bucky grunts, as his eyes reach Rumlows crouched position on the floor, holding a hand to his nose to try and seize the blood oozing from the imprint of Steve’s fist.

“Clean that shit up” Steve replies before wiping away the blood off his knuckles with a cloth towel, throwing it towards Rumlow.

“You don’t ever speak to her that way alright? Let this be a warning to all of you, what’s my business with her is just that, my own” Steve snarks, flicking off the splatters of blood that landed on his cufflinks.

Rumlow shuffles awkwardly, reaching for the rag with a blind hand before limping out of the office, his dignity and ego left in the pool of blood staining the plush carpet.

Bucky steps closer, his hands shoved into his pocket as he stares unblinking at the stained carpet.

Steve looks towards him, muttering profanities under his breath as he smooths out the wrinkles in his suit.

“What?” Steve asks Bucky, watching on as his closest friend refuses to meet his eye.

“When you have us shuffle in on rotation to watch her like some fucking fast food gig, you don’t think they’ll be asking questions??” Bucky murmurs

“That isn’t why I asked you to watch her now, is it? They're my closest men-you’re my closest man, and you want to question me? Bucky when have I ever done anything stupid? Huh?” Steve replies, eyes searching through the disappointment that covers Bucky’s face.

“Never, but I think you’re about to start now” Bucky replies, anger lacing his tone as he moves out of the room.

As much as it pained him to admit it, there was truth to Rumlow’s words, Steve had made a name for himself as a notorious bachelor who never slept with the same girl twice. He found a certain addiction in the debauchery of sex, but it was never love. Steve fucked because he liked to hear the sound of his name screamed into the city skies, watching the women he’d bring home unravel before him.

Now though, Steve has to take a moment to consider that his bed was left cold through most nights, the mantel and throne of the mafia king consuming him.

-- -

Pushing through the swinging doors of the diner restrooms, you cough out a gag as you breathe a lungful of air sharply. The diner's bathrooms were usually a mess by the time you closed your doors but god did it seem so much worse today.

Your eyes survey the diner for the crowds of patrons that usually occupied the leather booths but find them empty instead, a few drizzled customers sipping a coffee before folding their newspapers and making their way out.

The sun had dipped into the horizon soon after you had walked through the bathroom stalls, but the winter months caused the night to come quicker than ever, basking the outside with a darkness you can't help but shudder against.

Collecting the diner menus, you shove them into the shelving compartment situated near the doors, and as you reach for a washcloth a sudden feeling of eyes searing holes into your back envelops your senses. It feels like you’re being watched, and it feels like you're just now noticing, the suddenly ominous atmosphere created by the foggy darkness outside causing you to gulp. You crane your neck slowly to search for those pair of eyes, but all you can see is your manager’s head bobbing up from the diner counter.

She gestures with a nod for you to come over, and you discard the washcloth on the table before meeting her eyes.

‘I’m going to head out, just serve the last few customers and lock up for me.” Mare replies, wiping a hadn't across her face as she slings a bag across her back.

“Where did Hazel go?” You reply as you notice her absence from the kitchen

“Oh, she had to attend this party or something so I gave her the rest of the night off” Mare replies nonchalantly.

You have to dig your diners into your thigh to stop from throwing a sharp remark. You had to beg Mare to let you stay home after you’d got that flu going around the city, and even then you had to make it up in overtime. And now she was leaving you to clean up the diner all on your own, so much for a positive working environment.

You think about stealing from the register just to spite her, but you know she would find out either way and then you'd be rotting in a jail cell with an officer calling for your husband to come to pick you up and throw you back into your other living hell.

So you bite your tongue and bid her farewell as she exited the diner without a second look.

You register her words soon after, customers? But you had sworn all of them had filed out hours ago. It’s then that you noticed the hunched figure almost lying over the diner counters, and you move swiftly to reach his stool.

The man from before is perched on one of the diner stools, his grip pressing into the counter until his hands were knuckle white. A stringy black wooden jacket now adores his body, a stark difference from the deep coal black of his tailored suit in that car hours ago. It obscures half his face, scrunched up to cover his nose and mouth.

His eyes dart across the now empty diner booths, ears catching every sound like a hawk, the scar stretching across his face like a white hand pinched and relaxed with every turn of his head.

He’s hiding from something that you know, but you also know he isn't a man to particularly be afraid of getting caught.

Stepping towards him with a tentative shuffle of your feet, you grip your notepad tight around your hand, a tight smile gracing your features as he slowly rises his head from your scuffled converse to meet your eyes.

“What can- what can I get you?” You gulp down the nervousness from your voice, there’s nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn't hurt you- he can’t, Steve had promised. And you don't know why but you take it his word is as good as gold.

“Just a coffee honey, just like the one from before” The man replies, a dead look in his eyes as you note down his order.

“Nothing to eat? I can’t promise you a fresh meal, but we’ve got a few sandwiches I could heat up for you” You reply, you ask just because it's customary, but god you wished he could be out any sooner.

“Haven’t got the appetite ‘m afraid” The man replies, a smile cracks over the ice of his features, that same jagged white scar folding across his face. There's a glint in his eyes that shine against the diner's fluorescent lights, like he knows something you don’t and it scares you to no end.

You nod slowly, before quickly shuffling your body to get behind the kitchen counter. Reaching for a clean ceramic mug, you make quick work of pouring a fresh batch of espresso into the mug, the black liquid swirls like a whirlpool, steam rising from the cup so you have to carry it gently towards his seat. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, and your hands shake a little as you place it out in front of him.

“Anything else?” You say, rocking on the ball of your feet as you watch him carefully.

“I’m all set, thank you” The man smiles up at you, and your eyes furrow at the disingenuous smile that fits all too big on his face, its almost disprorpoatnte like a Halloween mask, all white teeth and dead eyes.

“I would appreciate it if you could join me, however..?” The man adds, eyes meeting yours that burn into you intensely, he still wears that same Cheshire smile, but his eyes, his eyes almost challenge you to say no. To see what would become of you if you did.

“Uhm..I’m on the clock, can’t be chattin’ when I'm meant to be..” You reply, trying to find the right words to say.

“Serving..customers?” The man clocks his eyebrow, turning around to gesture to the empty diner.

“There hasn't been a soul hat walked through those doors ever since you took your little bathroom break honey, so how about you make my crap day just a little brighter by sittin’ with me?” The man frames his proposal like a question, but you know the way he grips the counter tight that he means it as a command.

There is a beat of silence, of you just staring at him, trying to conceal your growing fear before your eyes dart to the diner doors. He catches your eye line, and coughs out a wheezing chuckle, clocking his head to the side.

“You aren’t that dumb, are you?” The man replies in a condescending tone, and you let your failure weigh down your shoulders.

“Follow me” The man replies with a smile, gathering his coffee mug with one hand before pressing the other to the small of your back, causing you to shudder unconsciously. He leads you to one of the booths hidden away from the door, and you sit with your back straight as he leans onto the booth table.

The silence between you both is filled soon with his hurried gulps of coffee, slamming it to the booth table and causing a crack to form like a lightning bolt through the ceramic mug. The violence causes you to finch, and he looks up at you with a grin.

And within a second, the man is quickly unmasking his hoodie from his face, and the scene that confronts you causes a sickening nausea to rise up your throat. The man’s face, which had been obscured by the hoodie earlier, now bears violent bruises and cuts that burst from his nose and jaw like flowers. They glint against the diner booths overhanging light, fresh and still swollen since the object or thing had cracked against his face.

The man grunts at your disturbed expression, slamming a hand down onto the diner counter that causes you to flinch.

“Your fucking protector gave me this, did you know that?” The man snarks with disgust, you're too afraid to meet his eyes but you take in his words slowly.

Your protector? Huh? No… he doesn’t mean-wait

Steve did this?

You can’t dwell on that realisation before the man is rambling to you angrily again

“And for what? You aren’t shit to me, to any of us, and frankly, we’re getting tired of watching your ass mop and clean after fucking truckers and shit. I used to take down fucking men, and I’m here babysitting. I think it’s about time to put out, alright?” He replies a knowing expression across his face that is soon morphed into amusement as he registers your confused expression.

“I mean you do know that’s why he keeps you? Wants to train you to be his little wife like you once were to little old Richerson’s. Or did you think we’d forget about your husband who’s hunting you down hm? Who’s probably going to throw my ass in the Hudson with a missing foot for even talking to you?”

You bristle at the mention of your husband's name, shaking your head as you press your fingertip to your squeezed eyes until you see stars.

No, no no. This was all wrong. Steve said he’d protect you, he had said that. He promised it like his life depended on it, but the truth was, yours did. And now, now he confuses you, your temples start to throb as a headache sets in as it does since that night when you think too hard or try to remember anything from before. Before your husband, before New York, before this very diner booth.

Did Steve really expect you to be some sit-in wife for him? Jump from one prison into another to finally be the last chest piece of his kingdom? You feel sick at the thought, the nausea burning your stomach as you press a hand to your mouth.

“You seriously didn't think you were anything else did you? Women can't be in this world unless they're whores or wives. That’s how it's always been and always will be. Don’t ever think otherwise, or soon you'll just be another fucking useless whore lying fast down in an alleyway” The man grunts, before pushing the cracked coffee mug towards you before rising from his seat, reaching into his pocket to throw a few scrunched bills at you.

“Clean this shit up, and I suggest you start putting out and doing it fast” The man replies, looking down at you before reaching for your chin, raising your face to meet his eyes.

He ticks at the tremble of your lips as you gulp down the nausea and fear still bubbling deep inside you.

“It's a shame really, that such a pretty face goes out like this, you see I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but he gave me no choice.” The man sighs sadly as if it was the world's burden to carry that information.

“Reckon you could’ve been something if Richardson had not snatched you up like he did all those years ago. Funny how life works though isn't it? Used to be living in tower high walls and now you're scrubbing a dirty restaurant floor”. The man replies softly, yet the words spit out of him like blood, insincerity written all over his face that told you he didn’t feel bad. Not one bit. In Fact, he probably enjoyed it.

He lets go of your chin with a shove, before his loud boots stomp against the linoleum floors, slamming the diner doors behind him with a bang, and leaving you to drown in the ever-growing lies the people you’ve trusted have suffocated you in.

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this-is-moony-lovegood · 21 days

Note

👧👧👧

💀💀💀

& my absolute fav 🏹🏹🏹

Girl Dad!Buck 👧🏼 - This fic was 13K worth of dialogue that needed some serious editing, so thanks for making me pick this one back up! Also, I know this is a Girl Dad! Buck fic, but those two co-parent hardddd so enjoy this clip of a victim talking to Eddie in the back of an ambulance about his new nail art.

“Nice nails.” Ms. Martin says, eyes directly on Eddie’s still-painted fingernails. He had been so busy getting his own house in order yesterday, that he didn’t even think about how his nails must look. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked around with painted nails before. Although, when his sisters had done them for him back in the day, Adriana and Sophia had held back on the sparkle nail polish. “Thanks.” Eddie says, rolling his eyes as Chimney snorts next to him. “Let me guess, you have a little girl at home, right?” “Yeah, she’s eleven.” Eddie offers simply. “She had a sleepover this weekend and she and her friends went a little overboard.” He explains, wiggling his fingers a little closer to give her a better view. “Do you have a photo?” “Yeah, of course.” He doesn’t think twice as he slides his phone out of his pocket and clicks the side button, lighting up the lock screen. It’s a photo he’d taken of Chris and Hailey from when he and Buck took them to the aquarium last week. In the perfectly timed photo - courtesy of one Evan Buckley - they were posing in front of the whale tank when a beluga whale came and joined them for the photo. Buck had also snapped a few more after the pointed out the whale, and the kids excitedly turned to say hello. “Hailey is my nail artist, and then the other one is my son, Christopher.” “Oh, they’re adorable.” She smiles sweetly, bringing her hand up to rest over her heart. “I remember when my kids were that age. They really grow up so fast.” “Yeah they do.” Eddie agrees.

Bones AU 💀 - Over 15K and counting! This is a snipet of Chimney and Buck while they're buried underground.

“Since we’re spilling our guts apparently, got anything you want to share?” Chimney asks, finishing his sentence with a wince. His hands are clenched into tight fists, which Buck is sure is meant as an outlet to redirect his pain from the severe pressure building in his leg right now. “With you?” Buck scoffs. “You’re the worst secret keeper on the planet.” “First off, I might die here of shock in a few minutes once you slice me open, and if that’s the case then you won’t have to worry about me telling anyone your secret.” “Chim-” “And second,” Chimney adds, cutting off Buck’s protest, “if the secret you’re going to tell me involves how you feel about a certain FBI agent, then that’s pretty well known to everybody, so it’s not really a secret you need to worry about me keeping.”

Green Arrow AU 🏹 - Oh, the beloved Green Arrow AU! Here's a piece of Buck and Eddie meeting again for the first time since he came back from Lian Yu (yes, I know that differs from the original plot, but I am taking some creative liberties with their backstory)!

He looks different from the last time that Eddie had seen him. He’s gotten taller, at least four inches, standing at nearly 6’2” now. For someone who had been stranded on a desert island for seven years, Eddie would think he should have withered away, yet, Buck is bulkier than he remembers, broader, four times the muscles that he remembers Buck having. He stands taller, his back straighter, but his head ducks lower than he used to, as if he’s purposefully trying to hide. Eddie had seen Buck on the news telling the world that he was alone on that island after everyone on the Buckley’s Gambit had drowned. Yet, if he was alone on that island, why does he carry himself like a solider who just came back from combat, one who is constantly on his toes, ready for any attack? “Buck! Hold on, there’s someone that I want to introduce you to.” Bobby calls, causing Buck to stop in his tracks. He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before turning to face Bobby, who is quickly approaching him. He forces a smile, before shifting his gaze away from Bobby to Eddie for the first time. It’s subtle, but Eddie swears he sees Buck’s eyes widen and his smile soften for half a second in recognition. “This is Eddie Diaz. He’ll be accompanying you from now on.” “Bobby, I don’t need a babysitter.” He insists, refocusing on the older man. “I understand, but this is… this is something that Maddie needs…” Bobby tells him, reaching up to gently squeeze Buck’s bicep. “It’s something I need, too. Okay?”

Keep requesting! This is just the motivation I need! :)

#buddie #buddie fics #my fics #911 abc #911 fic

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scara-hater · 2 years

Text

His cure Kuni/wanderer x Reader

warnings: angst and comfort? (I can’t write), him being emo, I never proofread, Kuni ooc cuz I’m goofy like that.

Kunikuzushi faced hardships in what could be considered his “youthful days.” it seemed everything he loved, must decay as if he is a deathly toxin with no cure. An unlovable mass with no purpose but to harm those with so much as a graze of the shoulder.

He was the problem and he certainly believed that. Growing into a Wrath filled Fatui Harbinger, blood stained hands and nowhere to call his own. So why is it that throughout knowing all that, you stayed? How could you love him so unconditionally knowing his past actions? You must be unhinged he thought.

Since he was ‘born’ he found comfort in smaller places, as if to comfort himself in a makeshift hug. So he sits under a decorative table in the corner. Alone in this house you both call home, while he sits. knees to his chest and his head down, he’s silent.

Nothing but the clock you gifted him can be heard. An awful gift in his opinion, a worn down coo-coo clock with a one eyed half beaked bird. You insisted because it was hilariously bad. And while he threatens to throw it away, that memory of how his human can be so stupid is one he’ll never rid of.

He loves you, oh god does he love you. More than he can express, do you love him the same? That’s where he shuffles into the smallest form he can, head squished in his knees, looking at his feet. What if you leave because he hurts you as he once was.

He betrays you, poisons you and it envelopes your body and drives you to go mad.

What if-

“Kuni! I’m home! today I found a huuuuge patch of flowers in this opening in the forest- kuni?” You came home, but the silence in the house is different. Thus began the search for your beloved.

And he heard you, of course he did, he just can’t.

Kunikuzushi was scared.

It doesn’t take long to find him as you walk down into the hall. Spotting his feet just under the piece of furniture. Carefully, you walk toward him, “dear? Are you okay?”

No. He’s scared you’re going to see him for what others do.

He wanted to tell you everything, everything on his mind, truly, but he just couldn’t. So he said nothing at all.

Even so, you crouched to meet the small frame, hesitantly reaching to place your hand on his head. And as you sweetly ran your fingers through the soft strands , you speak, “There’s no need to tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours right now, I understand you may need space.” “I love you, so when you feel ready you can sit with me in the bedroom if you would like to talk, okay?”

You see he’s in distress, and in comfortable silence continue to pet the indigo hair in front of you. Stretching out your body to give him a kiss on his head before you get up.

“Please.” It’s quiet, but you hear it. looking down to your lover as you watch him come out of the tiny space, he stands and holds the hem of your sleeve, “Please don’t leave, no matter what, promise?” Just what was this boy thinking of before you got home? “Who put that idea in your head that I’m going to leave?” His head is down but you can see he’s holding back tears. “Kuni. Look at me.” A slow raise, and his face is in view. Your look of concern was enough to break the barrier, tears streaming and his nose red, he must have been thinking about it for a long time. *Sigh* Bringing your hands to either side of his face, you hold him put to meet your gaze. And with careful gentleness you bring your lips to his, a fleeting moment, but one filled with all that you feel for him.

“You are so important to me, whether you want to accept that or not, my mind will not change.”

you see his face soften and take it as an opportunity to keep speaking, “Next time you feel this way, please let me know when you think the time is right.” You kiss his forehead and smile, a couple sniffles here and there, your little Kuni says three simple words “ I love you.” He tells you this often, but you see how much he means it in this moment. “I know, but I love you more.”

And for the first time in his all his years of living, he thinks he found his cure, his home.

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin x reader #i can’t write #wanderer x reader #wanderer

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elysium-the-true-faceofsalvation · 1 month

Text

Syouga's first trial MV- "Entertaining" (HalaCG)

What role am I playing? A fool or humbled girl?

The scenario looks to be some kind of black void. A table with a chessboard can be seen right in the middle. All of the pieces in the board are pawns and black, but an indigo colored pawn is at the far back of the board, completely alone. A red throne is right in front of the table, it’s mostly empty, except for an indigo colored masquerade mask sitting on it. Right beside the throne sits a set of clothes that would be usually worn by a ringleader in a circus.

What mask am I wearing? Does it cry or feel above the world?

A person appears walking through the void, their face isn’t visible, only a few strands of their black hair. That person walks up to the set of ringleader clothes and starts putting it on. Next up, the person grabs the mask sitting on the throne, and the camera changes to their POV as they put it on. The camera changes to their mouth, and a smirk quickly forms as their once black hair starts turning light red.

Stop comprehending The inner mind, the Id, my dear Keep on pretending And leave behind your crystal clear

The person then sits on the throne, revealing that they are Syouga. He looks down at the chessboard and starts smirking.

Narrate what you're feeling A play to believe in

Syouga slowly reaches down to the lone indigo pawn at the back of the board, placing it on the palm of his hand. He looks at it for a while, his expression becoming disappointed.

A monodrama staged as a genius No way to unweave this story, no

His expression quickly changes as he starts to smirk, he looks at the pawn one more time, and then he crushes it, breaking it like glass.

It's you beloved mask When I'm happy, you start screaming, screaming

The camera starts to back away from Syouga, and as it does so, the visuals start to become more distorted, starting to look like TV static. As the camera fully backs away, it reveals that Syouga was on a TV. Multiple people were watching him, and they started to become horrified when he broke the pawn. Some ran in panic and others just stood there in shock.

Through the looking glass Feeling crappy, you're just beaming, beaming

People started to run into the streets in panic. Syouga can be seen walking through the streets as well, and he’s still wearing the ringleader outfit and the indigo masquerade mask. The people don’t seem to be paying attention to him or even being able to see him.

Who is real elation sparkle? What's behind the act? Does it matter? Keep it entertaining

Syouga walks over to a street lamp with a poster on it. It’s a missing person poster. And yet, it has no name or photo. In the place where the name should be, it has “Resident N.564”. In the details section it reads:

“Not much is known about this person, that’s why we need as much help as we can get. Please contribute so we can find this lost member of our community.”

Syouga looks at the poster and smirks, getting a red marker from his pocket and writing “Syouga Hara” over where the “Resident N.564” was. He then walks away with his expression obscured by his hair.

The scenario then completely changes as the chorus ends. A hand holding a phone can be seen. In front of them there’s a computer screen, nothing can be seen on it, but it’s on. In the phone, a conversation between two people can be seen:

XXX: “He didn’t come out of his room for days. Are you sure he’s okay?” YYY: “He’s a lost cause, don’t worry about him.” YYY: “It’s more likely that he may die of starvation than him getting his ass out and getting a job.”

The hand can be seen tightening around the phone, and then it throws it on the wall as the scene cuts.

A thousand faces in a thousand places Can you find the answer?

Now the scenario becomes once again the black void. Syouga can be seen holding the shards of the indigo pawn he broke on his hand.

I am fated for the biggest stages My lines are pure of candor

The camera zooms in on the chessboard, all of the pieces are still black, but they are all scattered around the board now. Syouga then drops the shards he was holding at the middle of the board, the camera cuts back to his face as he starts smiling.

Who is what is why you're where? I'm the hero! Are you scared? Fireworks in brilliant colors Honest person undercover

The camera then cuts to a computer screen with a lot of messages from what it looks like to be a group chat, they read:

???: “Why doesn’t the police just arrest this Syouga guy?” ???: “Stop fucking around! We need to work together to find him!” ???: “I can’t believe one of our own went missing right under our noses.” ???: “Stop focusing on the culprit and focus on finding the victim!” ???: “This is a mess…”

Paper-paper masks cast away Blurred emotions saving face Take your notes on my prestige But that's not where this trick's placed

Syouga is then seen sitting right in front of the computer screen, smirking and still wearing the ringleader outfit and the indigo masquerade mask. He then stands up and walks up to the door and leaves the room the computer was in. As he does so, he snaps his fingers and is now back at the void.

What do you really know? Wrapped up tightly, where to go?

Strings start to appear out of Syouga’s fingers, and he wraps them around the chess pieces on the board. He just watches them dangling around the strings, until…

Not long now, I wrote this show Movement voice, what are we saying?

One of the pieces falls out of his strings, it was a pawn, and it slowly starts disappearing. As Syouga sees this, his expression changes to one of pure shock. Sweat starts falling off his face and his left eye starts twitching, and then the scene cuts.

It's you beloved mask When I'm happy, you start screaming, screaming

The scene changes to someone’s POV. They are watching a man walking on the streets. The POV person seems to be hiding behind some buildings, and as the man walks past them, they run up to him.

Through the looking glass Feeling crappy, you're just beaming, beaming

The scene then cuts to the POV person holding a knife while trying to stab the man from before. The man tries to resist, causing them both to fall to the floor, the POV person falling above him. They try to stab the man again, but he grabs their hand before they can do it and the scene cuts.

Who is real elation sparkle? What's behind the act? Does it matter? Keep it entertaining

The POV person is now seen running through the woods, as they look back, red and blue lights can be seen shining, and the scene cuts.

Do you love me?

The music slows down, and Syouga can be seen sitting on the red throne again. His outfit and mask still on him. He’s looking down, his expression unreadable. All of the pieces on the board have already disappeared, the only thing left on it are the indigo shards of the pawn Syouga broke.

Cursed little child In on the act and has been for a while

Syouga looked up to the board, his eyes falling on the broken indigo shards. He stands up, and gathers all of the shards. He starts to piece them back together, and soon enough, he is able to form the pawn again.

You think you don't like me

As he looks down at the restored pawn, his expression starts to become one of genuine anger. His teeth start to clench and he balls up his fist, and punches the pawn, breaking it again.

I'm intrinsic, the star, if you trust what you see

But this time, blood comes out of the pawn. He looks down at his bloodied fist. His left eye starts to twitch, but soon enough, he closes both of his eyes, and the screen starts fading to white.

A flickering image of someone sleeping on a bed can be seen, but their identity is unidentifiable.

It's you beloved mask When I'm happy, you start screaming, SCREAMING

Suddenly, Syouga’s eyes open, and he is now on a street, with multiple people looking at him in horror. He starts grinning from ear to ear.

Through the looking glass Feeling crappy, you're just beaming, beaming

The people try to run, but as soon as Syouga snaps his fingers, multiple of them break like glass. Syouga starts laughing, and the camera keeps changing between people Syouga breaks and him.

Who is real elation sparkle?

There’s no one in the street anymore, Syouga looks up at the sky and starts grinning. A tear falls from one of his eyes, his hand moves to the indigo masquerade mask he’s still wearing.

What's behind the act? Does it matter? Keep it entertaining

He gets a hold of the mask, and throws it up to the sky. As the mask starts falling down, Syouga is nowhere to be seen anymore, leaving the mask on an empty street. The camera starts backing away, and the visuals start to get distorted as static starts to appear. As the camera backs away completely, it reveals that this was on a computer screen. The screen turns off and the video ends.

#ocgram #milgram oc #03👁️#trial 1 #mv #milgram

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userseokmins · 1 year

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secret wishes ◦ h.v.c.

💞 🄿🄰🄸🅁🄸🄽🄶: Hansol Vernon Chwe x gn!reader 📚 🄶🄴🄽🅁🄴: Fluff, Humor/Comedy/Crack, PLATONIC!au, Besties!au 💬 ⓌⒸ: 3.4k ⚠️ 🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: Food, One mention of alcoholic beverages, Reader gets a tattoo, Cheesy corny stuff, Everyone is a menace imho, lmk if i missed smth! 📝 🄰/🄽: what better way to make a fic debut on this blog than a (very belated) birthday vernon fic to my beloved @aceofvernons. Basically it's a love letter from one bestie to another but it got kinda out of hand sjjskakak I still hope you enjoy it 🎉 (also ty Nova for color correcting and giving me confidence 💖)

It's like waking up disoriented from a dream.

Vernon is suddenly snapped out of the daze Seungwkan had left him in moments ago. The man responsible for it is now standing next to him, barking orders out to at least five other people who are running around their tiny, shared apartment.

"Geez, you didn't need to make such a big deal outta things."

"Should've stopped me instead of pouting in silence in your abysmally dark room like always."

"It's not that dark," Vernon protests and scratches the back of his head, "and I don't pout."

Lilac strands flutter as he tilts his head and does the very thing he said he doesn't do: pout. Seungkwan spares him a look only to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah Mr. Vamp. Maybe when a certain person isn't mentioned, sure." He jerks his head to the right. "Now get your lazy butt moving so I'm not tempted to take a hundred percent of the credit, love, and appreciation in your stead."

Vernon reluctantly peers into the kitchen. Mingyu is waving a spatula in a threatening manner at Wonwoo and their partner for eating and playing with the batter he's been working hard on. Peeking into the living room causes his entire body to cringe at Seokmin and his fiance who are supposed to be blowing up balloons. Instead, they're taking a break to giggle and kiss at one another's necks.

Ugh.

Seeking reprieve, he finally finds comfort stumbling next to Joshua, the seemingly only calm one among the other chaotic scatterbrains. With a kind smile, the maroon-haired man hands a loose end of the various paper chains he's looping together to Vernon, who readily takes it.

"You're pouting."

"I don't pout, Josh."

"Sure, sure. Unless it's about you know who."

"Seungkwan said the same sort of nonsense."

"He's not wrong. Otherwise he wouldn't be putting in all this effort for the both of you."

Vernon frowns. "He didn't have to."

"He did 'cause you were pouting. We all had to."

"I don't… ugh, whatever. All I wanted was something small but different."

"It's different that's for sure." Red bangs fly up when Joshua snorts at a sweaty Seungcheol stumbling through the front door, flanked by additional friends, to bring in an unnecessarily large table. "I know it's not what you normally do but I think it'll be nice."

"We like to do quiet things. Just the two of us. But everything's been screwed up this year."

Joshua's laughter is soft and melodic despite the underlying mockery Vernon suspects it disguises. "So, this surprise party and the commotion that came with it isn't bothering you. You're sulky because quality bestie time has been sacrificed since they went away."

Just because he's right doesn't mean he has to say it.

"I'm not sulking and I'm not sure what's so funny either."

"You are, my dear buddy!" He clasps his friend's shoulder reassuringly whose lilac hair cutely lessens the intensity of his perpetual frown. "After we celebrate, you'll get them all to yourself."

Vernon's nose crinkles. "Why is everyone being so insufferable?"

Not bothering to reply, the other man simply hums and stands to hang the completed portion of the chain. He can manage his grumpy younger friend who's now stapling the remaining rectangular pieces of paper a little bit too aggressively. The knowledge that Vernon will settle back into his easy-going nature once you return is inevitable.

It's just a question of how long all of them will be able to hold out until then.

By the time the sun sets, the fast-paced energy of the afternoon has dwindled down and the party preparations are finally finished.

"Are you sure it will be fine?"

"Honestly, Chwe! Do you not trust my baking skills?"

"More like I don't trust my fridge."

Seungkwan looks up at the exchange between a whiny Mingyu and indifferent Vernon. "Just don't open the fridge overnight and everything should be fine." He huffs, handing a stack of empty pizza boxes to Seokmin. "There's nothing but the cake in there anyways."

That must be enough to satisfy the dessert maker who obnoxiously puffs out his chest in pride. Wonwoo secures the last pack of untouched beer he'd brought in one hand and his partner's wrist tenderly in the other. Bidding everyone a good evening, he leaves with Mingyu following behind them like an elated puppy heading back home after a tiring walk.

"We'll take these and head out too," Seokmin supplies helpfully as he and his fiance finish gathering the final pieces of trash laying around. "See you tomorrow!"

Joshua is the last to go and jingles his car keys loudly before shutting the door with an exclamation of, "Enjoy the surprise!"

He disappears with a cheeky grin and swift departure before the opportunity to be questioned arises and Vernon turns to his unphased roommate.

"What did he mean by that?"

"Oh, you know him. Sometimes he's normal, more often he's not. Probably just wanted to re-remind you of that fact."

Seungkwan's statement is one that anyone can agree with. Figuring Joshua meant nothing as usual, it's already forgotten by the time Vernon's made his way up the steps.

Much later into the night, he's on a desperate search for something when you call but picks up nonetheless. No matter what he's doing, one thing for sure is that he'll always answer the phone when it displays your name. Because it's you.

But maybe that wasn't the smartest decision.

"Hello 'sol!"

"Hey bestie," the phone is cradled between his shoulder and ear as he rummages between the couch cushions. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, guess I just wanted to hear your voice."

A silly smirk halts him in his tracks. "Miss me?"

"Oh, how I long for you so!" The sarcasm lacing your words can't fully hide the smile he hears. "I've talked to you every day as always, it's like I never even left."

"Wish you didn't."

"You and I both. It's nice to be home but still…"

"We've always spent your birthdays together."

"Which is exactly why you should've come back with me!"

"Couldn't intrude on the fam like that."

You sigh. "No one would've minded, you're so dear to them." Mimicking your mother's voice, you continue, "Where's that lil Hansolie of yours? We enjoy his company so much, it's as if he's our son. In fact — we might love him more than our own child!"

Vernon laughs brightly. Bold and loud like he always does in your presence. You draw that part out of him like no one else can, setting him at ease to simply be himself. Comfortable. There are no appearances to uphold with you, no worries either. Everything melts away and it's easy to forget what he was all stressed about before you called. Until hurried feet pounding on the floor signify that someone is about to rush into the living room.

"I found them! I found the — " Seungkwan's happy skip halts upon seeing his friend on the phone and attempts to catch his breath after scrambling down the steps. But the keywords to the unfinished sentence roll right off Vernon's tongue out of relief without thinking.

"The rings?"

Even if he can't see, you perk up from your slouched position in the car and repeat eagerly, "Rings?"

Vernon shares a wide-eyed look with the other man in the room who hesitantly places the box on the coffee table. So much for being relaxed — he got too relaxed and ended up spilling the secret. Exposing himself like an idiot. He normally doesn't care that you are privy to everything there is to know about him but now…

Licking his lips nervously, he chuckles awkwardly. "Uh… yeah?"

"Did you get married or something in the week that I was gone?" you tease. "What's all this ring business about?"

"N-nothing. It's nothing big… y'know how Kwannie was… contemplating… um, engagement."

The man in question gapes and starts waving theatrically while mouthing silent charades full of utter disbelief and betrayal that are readily ignored.

Meanwhile, you snort. "Oh yeah, because that's definitely not a big deal at all. About time! But how did you end up with his rings then?"

Vernon turns his back on a dramatic Seungkwan in order to focus on organizing a believable white lie. "We… invited some of the guys over to talk it out and uh, he didn't want to lose them in the chaos because… he's still deciding and all that, you know… "

"Incredible," you mutter, "yet it seems like you lost them."

Panic, his brain screams. And maybe some shame added as well.

"But whatever, at least you found them." Somehow you seem to miraculously buy his pathetic excuse. Leaving the matter alone because you're distracted by a hearty yawn, he lets out a quiet exhale of relief while you stretch your neck out. "I'm tired."

Your best friend collapses onto the couch, feeling exhausted himself. "You should get some rest."

"And miss when the clock strikes twelve?"

"You've got a long day ahead, flying out after your celebration. You know you can stay longer if it's too much."

He's a little nervous saying that after everyone excitedly spent time to set up a surprise party but your well-being will always be more important to them over anything else.

Mingyu and his cake would survive.

"Puh-lease," you grumble and Vernon knows your eyes just have to be rolling, though you're actually glancing at your watch. "Don't you worry your handsome little head, I'll be right on time."

His eyebrows furrow. "On time for what?"

But you've already put the speaker away from your face, giggling like a gremlin in the background before you loudly cackle, "You're a horrible liar, Hansol!"

He breaks out into a cold sweat, even more perturbed when you simply hang up without even a farewell. "What is up with people today?"

"I dunno, what's up with you?" Phone held dazedly in one hand, Vernon turns to face Seungkwan's wrath. "Because suddenly, I'm engaged — according to your standards!"

"Sorry 'bout that. I'll explain everything when I give them their gift, okay? I think… I don't think they believed me anyway."

"Even Bookkeu wouldn't be fooled by that awful acting. Gosh, now I'm gonna feel bad about not proposing."

"Aw, c'mon Kwan. You know that's not what this meant."

Seungkwan's not really upset and Vernon knows that. Still. It's a subtle sting of a reminder that neither in the ten-year relationship have made a move for sealing that lifelong commitment. It would be a lie to say that it didn't occasionally eat away at the gentle-hearted man. Not that marriage was needed in every romantic relationship.

"I should've said Seokmin but that wouldn't have made sense either… "

"Those two? They're so attached to the hip they would've never handed over their rings to anyone. As a matter of fact though, I wouldn't give you mine either seeing as how you treated yours."

Vernon is quick to jump at his roommate and put him in a light headlock as faux retaliation, knuckles rubbing on the top of his hair while the latter yells in protest. They roughhouse as usual (this time staying clear of any lamp posts), nearly pulling off one another's clothes in the friendly tussle.

That's the position they freeze in when there's two heavy bangs on the door — Vernon with his hand fisted in Seungkwan's collar who has the former's shirt halfway up his torso. Inching closer to one another, they hold their breath. Peeking warily at the front door before meeting each other's terrified eyes that continue to widen in alarm when the beeping sounds of the code being entered starts after two seconds of silence.

They scream (very manly screams if anyone asks them about it afterwards) when the lock clicks open because who on earth knows their code and would break into their apartment at 11:56 PM?

"It's me!" You announce with a flourish — arms raised in exhilaration — only to lower them in confusion. "Oh. Am I interrupting something?"

Joshua glances around you to laugh at the two men entangled in what now looks like a hug. "Is that how you guys plan to defend yourselves? With a lover's embrace? You knew we were coming, Kwannie."

"I didn't know you'd show up at midnight!"

They step away from one another with disgruntled expressions and Vernon side-eyes everyone dubiously.

"You knew?"

Seungkwan's stuttered excuse is cut short when your (and everyone else's) phone buzzes and you excitedly cheer, "Happy gremlin birth hour to me!," and turn to a gobsmacked Vernon. "Aren't I gonna get my welcome back squish and squeeze?"

Of course, he could never deny you a hug. Especially on your birthday. Even if you scared the crap out of him by 'breaking in' when you're supposed to be far away with your family still, he opens his arms with an upward lift of his lips.

"Happy birthday, bestie. Now tell me, what in the world are you doing here?"

He takes in your appearance. Despite the off-and-on nap in Joshua's car on the way back from the airport somewhat helping, there's no way your animated behavior can hide all the obvious tiredness and jet lag.

You back away with a pat to his left bicep that has various rows of little black tattoo symbols encircling it, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"Wanted to celebrate my birthday with you!"

"You should have rested."

"I'm not a child, I wanted to surprise you!"

"But — " Vernon gestures helplessly to you, then the decorations he's sure you haven't noticed, and expects some support from his other friends but they have seemingly disappeared to give the two of you privacy. Plus, likely to escape him asking about the bizarre circumstances.

Gee, what wonderful pals.

"I know, I know… all of you put in a lot of effort. Especially Kwannie."

"I helped too!"

"But it was his original idea and organization, no? You'd never plan something like this."

"Why do you know everything, it's your birthday?" He groans in exasperation at your laughter. "It's supposed to be a secret and you're supposed to be surprised!"

"Ah, speaking of which," you eagerly roll up your right sleeve, "look at what I got!"

His eyebrows raise at the reveal of the ink that now circles over your skin. "Oh? You got tatted?"

"Yes! When I called after you got yours last year, the waitlist was so long I ended up just scheduling it as a birthday gift."

From afar, one might think they're the same as the ones dotting his arm. But upon closer inspection, he's more than pleased to see how you chose to have your own unique personality shine through. Miniscule versions of symbols that mean something precious and objects that seem to represent you best are outlined or filled-in with your favorite color.

"Beautiful."

You smile broadly at how awestruck your best friend is. "No, you."

"No, you."

"Fine, we're both pretty!" Vernon relents, well aware that this could go back and forth forever.

"That we are." You urge him to sit down on the couch and situate yourself next to him, right shoulder to his left, and grab his wrist. "Look!"

Extending your joined arms, you show him how your tattoos align almost perfectly. Then securing his other free hand in yours with the traditional pinky promise the two of you have done since childhood. He chuckles as you nudge him cajolingly with an elbow.

"I see."

"What do you see?"

"You just want me to say something cheesy 'cause you're in your affectionate era."

"It's the least you could do on my birthday."

A deep, weary sigh. "We're… each other's… better… half?"

The hands you have placed on his body tighten their hold as you squeeze hard in your excitement. He grunts as appropriate between your rambling, focusing mainly on when he'll be able to get circulation back where you're gripping, until you suddenly deflate.

"I messed it up. Stupid, sleep-deprived brain."

"You're not stupid."

"You're right, it's your fault."

"Mine?"

"I took the brain cell but now you have it back because we're together." Finally freeing the poor man, you stand in front of him and point. "Okay, let me try again so you'd better wipe your mind clear."

"Yeah, yeah." Vernon crosses his arms and pretends to look annoyed as if there isn't a goofy grin on his face.

"It was supposed to go something like this. We mirror each other, right?" You gesture to your tattoos again. "We're very similar, maybe even too similar at times. But," you flop down where you were originally seated, "we're also different! Different enough that we can compensate for each other's weaknesses and complement each other's strengths… you know, like you said — all that corny stuff."

"Cute."

"Like you."

"And you."

You lean in so close to Vernon that your noses almost touch. "Yeah, because we're besties and we look cute together. Okay, since I ruined the surprise and told you all my secrets, isn't it your turn now?"

"My turn?"

"Yeah, Mr. Rings."

"Ah… so that was your goal all along."

"Of course, I'm waiting with bated breath."

He raises his chin in the direction of the coffee table. "It's right there."

Despite teasing him about not wrapping it, you quickly snatch the velvet box before he can grab it himself. "Couple rings?" You put a hand over your heart dramatically. "Aw, you shouldn't have, Hansol."

"They're bestie rings, you dolt."

"Did you just call me an idiot?!"

"Yeah. With affection though."

You make a sound of disgust but return to the precious gift, lips curling upwards. "They're beautiful."

"Copycat."

"Stop it, you love me."

"I do."

"Then put it on me," you demand, handing him the ring box and wiggling your fingers in anticipation.

Vernon mumbles something about how impatient you are and to chillax. But he does as asked and gently takes the hand always used to pinky promise and bro-slap him. Sliding the ring on your middle finger, pleased when it's a perfect fit. Then, he does the same on his own and scrunches his nose in satisfaction.

"Perfect."

"I know."

He takes your hand back in his like before, and brings you into the kitchen. Identical rings brush against each other and the tattoos on your arms act like magical sigils to shield from anything that threatens to break through the personal bubble created by your joined hands.

"How did you figure out my ring size?"

"There are lots of opportunities because you don't fall asleep until some ungodly hour and happen to still be passed out when normal people awaken. So thanks for that."

You stick your tongue out at his snarkiness and receive a dollop of icing on it in return. "Mingyu makes amazing cakes!"

"So you knew about that too."

"Duh. And I know he'll be mad if you cut a piece."

"Two," Vernon deviously points out and places a plate down for himself.

It would be an absolute crime to not devour such a delicious treat, figuring it a waste to let it sit out instead. Making a gross noise of appreciation at the first bite, you couldn't wait to thank Mingyu later.

You get that opportunity the next morning as more and more friends from the day before tiptoe in one after the other per Seungkwan and Joshua's request. Quiet giggles and definite blackmail material when they sneak a peek into the kitchen to see you and Vernon fast asleep with your heads laying on the counter, limbs splayed all over the place and each other.

The two of you had chattered about everything, anything, and nothing at all. No words needed to be said even when a comfortable silence settled as the sun started to rise before both of your eyelids closed.

You were his best friend and he was yours. That was all that mattered. The strength of your bond meant that you were content just being in each other's thoughts, even at times you were far apart. Physical reminders like tattoos or rings were just the cherry on top of the cake that you had worked hard and spent years together on creating.

Speaking of cakes…

"My precious darling," Mingyu whisper-screeched from afar, "I knew you would be destroyed!"

He sighs, distraught, and Wonwoo pats him on the back. Their partner begins snickering when the tall man gingerly lifts up the new one he brought with shaking hands. "Good thing I made two!"

#elv writes #svt fanfic #seventeen fic #svt fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #vernon fanfic #vernon fluff #chwe vernon fic #kpop fic #kpop fluff

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madaboutmunson · 1 year

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Eddie Month WIP

So my ambition for @eddiemonth is to use a brand new AU, and write a fic for each week, incorporating a prompt from each day into it. Can I do it? I hope so. Anyway I've decided to stick with Steddie (my beloved) buuuuut, the AU is going to by late 50's Chicago. I'll add some pics of my version of the guys below, and this is a chunk from my Week 1 fic, around the prompt 'Crush' I hope you like it!

Also massive thanks to @thefreakandthehair and @nostalgicbones for creating this event. I absolutely love Eddie, and am so excited to see what everyone creates for this month! ================================================

Stupid Cupid

Eddie hurriedly bustles his way past them, briskly walking away, and doesn't look back. Not even once, as his pulse thunders in his ears. The city seems to swell and contract as the anxiety starts to weave its way into him, and he might have walked right on by the grocery store if not for the uneven sidewalk.

He manages to get his hands in front of him, preventing his face from meeting the pavement and scrambles to his feet.

“What? Not even a postcard?” A thick Chicago accent rings out. Eddie starts to feel the defensiveness rise in him. He’s going to give this joker a piece of his mind. It's only his first day here, and already, it's going to hell. It's a stupid joke, anyway, which makes no sense at all because he didn't trip. He fell. Couldn’t this moron even see that? He dusts off his new clothes and notices a small tear in the knee. And that might be the final straw. Eddie screws up his face in rage. Fists clenched at his sides, one finger extended, ready to point right at this guy.

“No! Not even-” Eddie begins angrily as he turns to the voice. But all language and oxygen leave him, and all he can do is take one gulp of an inhale like a human goldfish.

Standing in front of Eddie right now is something he can barely comprehend. A miracle has occurred, and it doesn't seem like the rest of the world has noticed because it's carrying on like this isn’t even happening. He can vaguely hear the cars and the shouts of others, but they are all starting to dwindle. It was like someone was turning the volume down on planet Earth, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and breathing.

Then, almost like a vignette is placed over his vision, blurring and darkening the edges, he can only focus on one thing.

The man of Eddie’s dreams.

Physically, at least.

He is right there.

Like the great animators in the sky plucked him out of his mind and drew him into existence.

Had he not put his hand out in time? Was he, in reality, currently knocked out by the fall, and that's why he can see this guy now?

He’s about the same height as Eddie. His hair is neatly cropped, not shoved away and hidden under a hat like his own. It’s side-parted, with a perfect swoop of brown, neatly combed and styled hair. Save for a few strands that hang over his forehead, rebelling against the pomade. His light brown eyes are shaped with a slight slope downwards, giving them a natural, hooded, adorable sadness, just like Elvis himself. But these are larger, which made them infinitely easier to get lost in. But there isn’t an ounce of sadness in the rest of that face as a cocky open-mouthed smile spreads across it. Tucked in the corner of his lips is a toothpick that rolls, as his tongue is idly toying with from inside his mouth as he looks Eddie up and down.

Then there are those rose-blushed lips of his. They looked so soft, in direct opposition with the perfectly chiselled jaw they rested above. And all of this with a backdrop of olive skin littered with beauty marks. As if this guy needed any more indicators of how beautiful he was. Jesus.

Eddie dares to give him a rapid look up and down, and it is also awful news because not only did they give him the face of an angel, but they had to provide him with a body that would launch a million classical sculptors across all time into action. His shoulders are broad and sit atop two very pleasantly muscular arms. The white cotton t-shirt embraces them, one tighter than the other as it's rolled a little higher to hold his pack of smokes. The fabric stretches over his chest to reveal the mounds and dips of an anatomical landscape that Eddie is sure he would happily sit and admire for longer than any national landmark this fair country had to offer. Then the killing blow by this everyday garment is struck by how it falls and clings to his stomach, revealing he’s even got a little slightly soft tummy on him. Eddie is starting to feel light-headed. This cannot be real.

Then Eddie notices something else, he’s wearing an apron, and in his arms is a crate of apples. He fucking works here. Oh god. Oh, god, no! Eddie starts to feel like he's overheating, and he’s eyelids flutter unintentionally.

“You ok dere, buddy?” The man’s smile and amusement take an eighty per cent plummet as they look over Eddie with concern.

He’s overwhelmed by everything happening right now, the whole day of mistakes leading up to it, questioning if it was even the right choice to come to the city in the first place. If all of these things were glaring warning signs, pointing him to go back home to Hawkins, stop chasing stupid dreams, and get a job with his Uncle Wayne at the factory. And this…this man at his local store of all places spelt trouble for him. He wasn’t good at hiding his thoughts or feelings, no matter how hard he tried.

That was it decided. He would turn around now, go pack, and go home. This was a stupid idea. Eddie feels a tightness across his shoulders start to spread, his palms heat up, and he realises he’s been staring into space for the last few seconds.

He tries to run, but his legs suddenly feel like lead, and though he’s stopped, the world spins around a few more times. Instead of the street being in his eye line, the horizon starts to fall, and all he can see is the sky before he feels his back hit something, but it's not hard like the ground. Soon, the horizon returns, as does the street and the face of an angel, moving him to sit on the ground outside the store, next to a pyramid of oranges.

“I need ya to sit right here, ok buddy. I’m gonna get ya some water, alright?” the angel’s mouth moves, and Eddie watches it seriously to make sure he can hear every one of his precious words.

He pats him on the shoulders, steps toward the store door, and pauses before looking back and tilting his head, “Whats ya name?”

He is still a little dizzy, but he knows the answer to that question, “Eddie.” he replies quickly.

The man smiles hugely and repeats his name like he’s testing it out. He places his toothpick behind his ear, “I’m Stefano, yous can call me Steve. Most do,” he gives him a little two-finger wave and disappears inside the store.

#eddiemonth #eddie month #eddiemunsonmonth #eddie munson month #eddie munson fanfic #steddie fanfic #wip #madaboutmunson

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mostlikelythedevil · 2 years

Text

Haunted. | [Chapter Three]

Pairing(s): Kevin Owens x Fem!Zayn!Reader, Solo Sikoa x Fem!Zayn!Reader

Warning(s): Explicit Language, Angst

Word Count: 1,482

Chapter Summary: The Bloodline saw a small piece of The Reader’s spat with Kevin, and she’s not quite in the right state of mind to be calm about that.

Link(s): AO3, Masterlist

Note(s): This, for one reason or another, was an extremely hard chapter for me to write, so I apologize for the short content. I rewrote this three times in varying levels of aggression, but I am ultimately content with how this turned out (which is funny because it is the complete opposite of my outline). I hope you all enjoy!

Tag(s): @crowleysqueenofhell @raeluvshammett

There is no chance that Sami had nothing to do with the phone call — or, at the very least, telling Roman and his kin of your supposed feelings for their bitter enemy — so seeing the dumbstruck expression lacing his features is enough to send you into a blind, bitter rage; the added sight of Roman Reigns smirking is just fuel to your fire.

Footsteps echo through the corridor as you close in on the group of incognizant men, carrying with them the sound of your misery and ire. Laughter and smirks fade from otherwise contented expressions as you come more into view; the sight of viscous clumps of foundation and eyeliner melded to your cheeks, of strands of ginger hair clinging wildly to the wet streaks accompanying the ruined make-up, of the swollen red encompassing your eyes to the point of near blindness, the sight of your absolute ruin was enough to hush The Bloodline — even the amusement on Roman faded.

Though difficult to see the small details, you can see that Roman is much more intense at the sight of your disarray. His lips, first curled up at the idea that you would approach them — rather, him — with such aggression, were now a thin line on his strong, stoic canvas. In his eyes, though you cannot trust your own to be entirely accurate, you can see a glint of pride; there is no sense to be made as to why such an emotion would cross him at the sight of you, regardless of the situation.

“How could you do this to me?” The hoarseness of your voice causes a sting of pain in the back of your throat as you try to holler, eyes trained hard on your brother. “How could you?”

Sami, distraught at the sight of you, reaches out both hands defensively. “I don't— I don't know what's going on,” he stumbles over his words as you approach him.

As soon as you are within reach of your brother, your palm comes heavy across his cheek and without warning. Sami stumbles, tripping over his own feet, into the arms of Paul Heyman. “Is this what you wanted? Is this what you wanted, Sami?” Fresh tears bubble in your eyes as your brother smooths a hand across his stinging, reddened cheek in absolute shock.

“Damn,” one of the twins half-shouts.

Eyes wide, hand soothing his stinging cheek, Sami cannot find the words to respond. You have never — never — struck him before; not when he had thrown your favorite plush down into the depths of a lake in the middle of a mild, yet still freezing, Canadian winter as a child; not when he told you that you looked like a fool during your first match as a teenager; not when he accidentally ruined one of your keepsakes by sitting on it. How could you strike your own brother, now, without telling him why? How could you strike him as if he were nothing — as if he were not your beloved brother?

“Answer me, damn it! Tell me this is what you wanted.” You reach out to push Sami as you speak, though he hardly moves. “Tell me this is what you wanted, you fucking coward!”

“Please stop,” is all Sami can manage — a feeble, sad whisper.

A strong, thick arm wraps around your waist as you push Sami once more, pulling you firmly back and away from your brother. “Let me go,” you half-sob, half-scream as you kick the air with enough force to hurt your knees.

With little resistance, the person holding you slips around to your front before releasing the hold on your waist. In front of you, through your blurred vision, is Solo Sikoa. His hands are wrapped across his chest, showcasing the muscles of his arms; it’s no wonder that you found it impossible to break free from his hold.

“I can see that you’ve had a long night already,” the voice of Roman Reigns breaks your attention away from Solo, who you heavily considered slapping for touching you — truthfully, you should be thankful Roman stopped you from doing something so terribly unhinged. “But I need you to calm down and use your words, sweetheart.”

The tears dry at the sight of Roman standing just behind Solo — at the sound of his voice commanding you to be calm. Your chest heaves, heavy with the burden of controlling your erratic breathing, and you can feel your body shaking with adrenaline that you were previously unaware of. Despite the immense amount of anger and heartbreak and humiliation, there’s truth in that you need to calm yourself. Hearing it from Roman, though, is the least calming thing that could have happened.

“Go to hell,” you spit, lunging at Roman. Solo throws his arm out, almost lazily, keeping you trapped behind him; even then, you push your body against his arm, straining to look Roman in the eye.

Roman, feeling generous, ignores your outburst. “I’m going to assume that this is about your little spat with Kevin, right?” His tone is little more than mocking. “Sami had nothing to do with that.”

You continue to push against Solo, fighting against his arm as you stare at Roman over his shoulder. “Fucking liar,” you growl, eyes leaving Roman in search of Sami.

In the background, largely shielded from your view, the twins are working to calm Sami down from your aggression. Now that you’re paying attention, you can hear sniffling and the quiet, patience voices of the twins as they shield your brother from you. He cannot comprehend your anger with him. It hurts. God, it hurts, and that’s all that he can think.

“You weren’t opening your eyes to Sami’s gentle warnings,” Roman continues as if he did not hear your brash words, “and as Sami’s sister, and therefore an extension of The Bloodline, I could no longer stand by idly and allow Kevin to manipulate you against your brother.”

“You had no fucking right,” you strain to holler again, eyes returning to Roman. “I’m not an extension of your group of viscous, self-centered, good-for-nothing pricks. I never fucking will be.”

You do not notice the footsteps behind you. “E— Excuse me,” the meek voice of a crew member interjects before you can continue to berate Roman, “Miss Zayn, you’re needed in the guerrilla position for your match in— five minutes.”

Fuck — the match. You forgot about the match. God, you’re a mess. How are you supposed to go out in front of all of those people for such an important match looking like this? You’re not even in the mental state to do it anymore. Fuck.

“I’ve forgiven you for your words against me tonight — your blatant disrespect — because I understand the grief that you’re in. As your Tribal Chief, it falls to me to make the difficult decisions, and as someone who has not yet been predisposed to the expectations of being a member of The Bloodline, you are forgiven this once.” Roman speaks with such authority, staring you down as if you are prey in the arms of his cousin.

The crew member runs off as soon as he is acknowledged with a nod from Roman.

“I’m not in The Bloodline, you stupid fuck. I want nothing to do with you,” your voice has lost the resolve it had, thoughts too consumed with the idea of your contendership match being so soon among all of the drama.

Roman huffs out a laugh. “You’re welcome to come to our locker room after your match to talk like the grown-up that you’re supposed to be,” the smile that crosses his lips lacks all warmth. “Otherwise, stay out of our way until you can find it in yourself to thank me for saving you from yourself — because we both know that you know Kevin never cared about you, you just don’t know what to do with yourself for being so goddamn wrong about him while your brother screamed and pleaded and begged for you to come to your senses.”

“I—,” the words catch in your throat.

“Good luck on your match, Little Zayn. Remember what I said: you get one pass, and that’s tonight,” Roman turns away from you, collects the twins and Sami and Paul, and heads in the direction of The Bloodline’s locker room.

Solo looks over his shoulder, only stepping away from you when the rest of The Bloodline are secure behind the doors of their locker room — which happens to be just down the corridor from your own. He turns back to you, scrutinizing you under his stone expression, before turning completely to join the rest of The Bloodline in their shared locker room.

In the distance, you can hear Liv Morgan’s music drowning out the cheering of the crowd.

#WWE #WWE Imagine #Roman Reigns #Jimmy Uso #Jey Uso #The Usos #Solo Sikoa #Solo Sikoa Imagine #Solo Sikoa x Reader #Sami Zayn #Kevin Owens #Kevin Owens Imagine #Kevin Owens x Reader #Also on AO3 #Haunted: Chapter Three #Haunted: Chapter 3

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Life Worth Living [Chapter Two]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

[You can find the full summary and chapter list for this series here]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains fluff, angst, violence, PTSD, smut (Contains our beloved Defenders and lots of plot twists)

Word Count: 5.5k

a/n: Slowly posting one of my another Matt Murdock x OFC stories over to tumblr to see if there is interest. This was my very first Matt Murdock story but its LONG. The first thirty-six chapters are already written and posted but I have 2 more unedited and already written still. Feel free to leave feedback so I know how interested y'all are in more of this one!

The coffee shop was busy with the morning rush; everyone agitated waiting for their morning caffeine fix before they headed to work. Karen and I waited near the counter for our orders in silence, almost shoulder to shoulder in the crowded space. My eyes felt like they were on fire and I raised a hand rubbing at them as if it would alleviate the exhaustion.

“You weren’t kidding about staying out all night,” I mumbled to Karen beside me.

She sent me a sheepish smile, her hands fidgeting with the belt on her skirt. “Yeah,” she breathed out awkwardly. “I uhm, really didn’t feel comfortable going back home alone last night.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before shooting me a tight smile. “Thanks for coming back to my apartment with me, too. I didn't really want to wear that dress for an entire second day.”

I shrugged nonchalantly in response. “No problem. Considering what you’ve just been through, I wouldn’t be inclined to be alone there either.” I turned my attention towards her, taking in her nervous gestures. “I’m glad you’re okay though.”

She nodded in response, inhaling deeply before forcing a smile onto her face. “Thanks for coming out last night, too. Sorry Foggy and I were probably incredibly annoying. I can’t imagine what that must have been like to deal with sober.”

I chuckled lightly, remembering Karen’s giggly state and Foggy’s very obvious flirting with her. “Honestly, it was amusing. I had fun. Though…I can’t say it wasn’t more enjoyable when you both finally sobered up.” The barista behind the counter called out our order, placing the paper cups on the marbled surface before Karen and I stepped forward to grab them. “It’s definitely more enjoyable to converse with people who can make coherent sentences.”

“Oh, God,” Karen grumbled, wiping a hand down her face in embarrassment. “We must have sounded ridiculous.”

We swerved our way through the crowd in the shop, pushing our way towards the exit. A few people grumbled or sent us glares as we tried to weave through the long line and outside.

“Just a bit,” I teased Karen as we finally stepped outside, shooting her a grin.

Karen took a sip of her cappuccino, eyes closing to revel in the caffeine for a moment. When she opened them, she glanced back at me, a warm smile on her lips.

“Thanks for the coffee, too.”

“Looked like you could use it,” I told her. “And considering you offered to work for Foggy and Matt for free , thought I’d help you out.”

She bit her lip, glancing both ways before crossing the street. I followed after her keeping an eye out for traffic.

“I really should get them to pay me something,” she laughed out.

“Yes, you definitely should,” I agreed.

She stopped in front of a brick building and I almost ran into her. She waved her hand up and smiled.

“This is it,” she told me.

My brows furrowed at the building. “It’s…a hardware shop?”

Karen rolled her eyes before waving me along. “It’s inside. Come on, I’ll give you a brief tour.”

I followed after the woman, entering the building and heading down the hall past other offices. On the glass of the door at the end of the hall there was a taped piece of paper with the words ‘Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law’ written in black sharpie. I waited as Karen unlocked the door and then swung it open, stepping inside. Walking in behind her, I noticed there was a folding table with a small stack of papers on top in the main room, and just to the side against the wall were a few boxes which were filled with files. Karen dropped her purse onto the table and took another sip of her coffee before setting it beside her purse and turning to me.

“Would you like the grand tour?” she asked.

I smirked at her dramatic hand sweep around the small space. “Yes, please.”

Karen cleared her throat before waving her arms around us. “This is my office. It’s where I answer calls and sit and greet clients…if we had any.” She crossed the room and pushed a door to the right open and gestured inside. “This is Foggy’s office–he’s working on decorating, or so he says.” She stepped out and crossed the main room, pushing the door open to the other room. “And this is Matt’s office. He’s…not really into decorating.” She led me back out to the main office and pointed to a room tucked behind Matt's office. "And that’s the break room. There's a little coffee maker and some cups but that's about it." She clapped her hands together as she leant against the folding table, a smile on her face. “And that’s the tour.”

“When they said they just started their own practice together,” I told her, “they really did mean they just opened it, huh?”

The door to the office swung open behind me and I turned as Foggy stepped in, coffee in hand and dark circles under his eyes. He grinned when he spotted me, shutting the door behind him.

“Olivia! I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Foggy greeted.

“Karen and I grabbed coffee across the street,” I said, eyeing the way he rubbed at his eyes. “You doing okay there, Nelson?”

“Me?” Foggy asked, perking up at my question. “I’m great. Or I will be when I finish this,” he answered, lifting his cup of coffee. “Just next time,” he said, glancing behind me at Karen, “maybe we shouldn’t drink the eel.”

Karen let out a laugh and I shook my head.

“You keep saying that and I really don’t want to know,” I muttered, taking a sip of my latte.

The door opened again and Matt appeared, moving slow and closing the door gently behind him.

“Hey buddy!” Foggy called out as Matt leant his cane against the wall and stepped in. Foggy gasped the moment I noticed it too. “Dude, what happened to your eye?” “Are you okay?” Karen immediately asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Matt answered offhandedly as he neared his office door, adjusting his glasses further up his nose. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going last night. It was my fault. Not a big deal.”

“You need a dog,” Foggy pushed.

Matt chuckled a little. “I’m not going to get a dog, Foggy.”

“What’s wrong with a dog?” Foggy continued. “You don’t like dogs? Everybody loves dogs.”

“I love dogs,” Karen added.

Foggy turned towards me, eyebrows raised. “Olivia? Chime in here?”

I saw Matt’s brows furrow at the name and Foggy quickly turned towards him.

“Your new neighbor, Olivia, is here, by the way,” Foggy explained before glancing back at me.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, glancing down at my coffee. “I mean I’m…partial to cats.”

“Oh come on!” Foggy said, crossing the room and playfully slapping my shoulder.

Matt’s lip twitched up at the corner, a small smile playing across them at my words. His head tilted in the direction my voice had come from and I felt the hair on my arms prickle at the gesture. Almost as if I could once again feel him focusing on me in the space.

“Good morning, Olivia,” Matt greeted me, voice all charm. “I didn’t realize you were here, I apologize.”

Before I could open my mouth to respond, Foggy was already speaking again.

“You missed a hell of a night last night,” he began. “Where were you?”

“I was uh…” Matt coughed glancing down. “Busy.”

Foggy shot him a knowing look, nodding. “Uh huh. Well while you were busy , Karen and I went out and got drunk. And we tried to get you to come out with us, but you never answered your door. Instead, we ended up roping Olivia here into staying up all night with us.”

Matt’s brows rose behind his dark glasses. “Did you, now?”

His head tilted in my direction again and I felt my heart rate quicken. How the hell did he have that effect on me?

“They made a good point,” I began. “I just moved here and I don’t really know anyone. Staying up all night with two strangers in a new city sounded like a horribly great idea.”

Matt’s smile slowly grew; I could see the way the lines near his eyes crinkled just past his glasses.

If only he’d take the damn things off…

“Then I deeply regret my absence last night,” Matt said, his dark glasses pointing in my direction as his tongue briefly flitted out against his lips, drawing my eye. I could have sworn his lips twitched into a smirk. “I wish I could have helped welcome you to the city. Maybe you’d be interested in coming out with us to Josie’s?”

I bit my lip, hesitating, before finally answering. “I think that’d be fun–though I’d prefer it on a night that I’d actually gone to sleep the night before.”

Matt chuckled at my words, muttering out, “Of course.”

“Yeah dude,” Foggy said after swallowing a drink of his coffee. “I’m not twenty-one anymore. I need sleep after last night.”

A knock came at the door and everyone froze.

“Someone’s at the door?” Foggy asked, curiously.

“It would appear so,” Matt answered before his head turned in the direction of Karen. “Karen? You want to get that?”

She stood there for a moment, eyes wide, before shaking her head and smiling. “Yeah, right, yes,” she said, rushing over and answering the knock.

A tall, well-dressed man in what looked to be an expensive suit was standing in the doorway, a cold, professional smile on his face. He stepped inside hesitantly, eyes quickly surveying the office before they landed on each of us in turn.

“Hello,” the man greeted. “Do you do walk-ins?”

I cleared my throat and nodded at Foggy, Karen, and Matt–knowing the latter couldn’t see the gesture–before heading towards the door.

“Right, I need to get to work,” I said awkwardly, making my exit.

“It was good running into you again,” Matt called after me.

I felt the blush rise to my cheeks as I practically darted around their potential new client and into the hall. As I made my way out of the building, I checked the time on my phone. If I rushed straight back to my apartment I would probably only login a few minutes late to work. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I worked a few minutes late to make up for it. And then I’d…probably order take out and crash early to make up for my lack of sleep the previous night.

Turning left on the sidewalk, I began power-walking my way back to my apartment. It was only a few blocks away, but the streets and sidewalks were bustling with everyone else trying to get to work on time. I spent the next twenty minutes weaving in and out of people, almost running headlong into an oncoming taxi at a crosswalk, growling angry words at the driver who wasn’t paying attention, before finally making it to my building.

The lobby inside was empty; everyone had probably already left for work. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was one of the only people still inside during the weekdays. I preferred it that way though; it was quieter in my apartment and I didn’t have to constantly interact with co-workers. And if I zoned out here and there, no one was breathing down my shoulder watching.

Once inside my apartment, I quickly locked it behind me, kicking off my shoes by the front door and tossing my keys onto the console table as I usually did. Then I hurried through the living room and turned on my computer, quickly logging in to work the moment I could pull up the program. With a tired sigh, I set my coffee cup on the coaster on my desk and let out a long sigh.

“Today is going to be rough ,” I muttered to myself.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Work dragged by slowly, more than usual. I'd had to make two more lattes to make it to a little past four when my shift ended. By the time I clocked out of work, my eyes were struggling to remain open.

No more all nighters to make friends , I told myself as I shuffled to my bedroom.

I dug around in my bedroom drawers for clean clothes and settled on some sweatpants and an oversized shirt. Making my way down the hall to the bathroom, my stomach growled angrily.

"Ugh," I grumbled as I stepped into the bathroom. "I do not have the energy to cook tonight."

Turning on the shower, I tiredly leant against the wall just outside of the shower listening to the strong spray. I didn't realize I'd momentarily drifted off until my body lurched forward, my eyes startling open as my hands flew out to catch myself. I groaned as I stripped out of my clothes and got into the now steaming water.

The shower took twice as long as usual with how tired my brain and body was. I had accidentally washed my hair twice, having forgotten I'd done it the first time. When I finally got out and toweled off, I dressed in the comfortable clothing I'd brought in before grabbing my phone from the bathroom counter and heading toward the living room.

I collapsed on the gray sofa, throwing my legs up and leaning my head back against the arm rest. Rubbing a hand over my face, I quickly decided I'd just order takeout again. There had been a Mexican restaurant a block over that had good reviews and tacos did sound good. My stomach rumbled at the thought which was the final prompt I needed to grab my phone and spend a few minutes ordering some food for dinner, internally groaning when I was notified that delivery would take about twenty minutes.

With a huff, I sat up and set my phone onto the coffee table and grabbed the television remote, turning on the TV before mindlessly flipping through channels. I got comfortable on the couch and settled in, leaving the TV on some local news segment where there were three news anchors discussing the vigilante in Hell's Kitchen.

"Some say he's a hero," the brunette woman told her male co-anchors. "They're saying he took down a human trafficking ring the other night. And just last night, he saved a young boy that was kidnapped."

One of the men huffed, rolling his eyes. "This man in the mask is nothing but a guy with an ego problem. He wants to be a hero, but he shouldn't be out there assaulting people at night. Doesn't matter if they're criminals–it's against the law. I mean, where do we draw the line?"

"You're completely right. I say," the other man began, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "leave it to the police. It's their job and this… vigilante is only getting in the way and making more work for our law enforcement."

I yawned, stifling it behind a hand. I'd heard brief rumblings about the man in the mask, the man some people were beginning to call the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. When I'd grabbed coffee or picked up groceries–even just waiting at crosswalks–I'd overheard people recounting sightings of him or discussing how he'd helped someone they knew. He sounded more like a hero to me than these news anchors wanted to admit.

When I focused back on the television again, I realized they'd switched topics back over to the Hope Shlottman case.

"Don't even get me started on this ridiculousness," the man with glasses groaned. "It's absurd. It's just a young girl grasping at straws to avoid her rightful conviction. I mean hell," he continued, voice raising, "there's video footage of her committing the crime in the elevator!"

"I'll have to agree with you, Mark," the brunette woman said with a lofty laugh. "If there was a man running around with mind control powers, I think we'd have heard about him before now."

I sat up straighter on the couch, hand gripping the remote tighter at her words.

It's just a coincidence. It's not him.

"Exactly!" Mark exclaimed. "Some guy with the ability to mind control others, and he's using it to make a young woman kill her parents? No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not buying it. But I would buy an insanity plea."

"You know," the other news anchor piped in, "the man arrested for this morning's armed robbery is claiming he was also mind controlled to commit the crime."

The three anchors shared a laugh and my heart rate increased, my hand still gripping tight on the remote.

"I heard about that!" the woman said. "Said that man told him to do it, just like he did with Shlottman."

My breath caught in my throat as the news anchors laughed loudly on my television screen, entirely oblivious. I could feel the color drain from my skin at the discussion of mind control.

"Mine."

I yelped, sliding across to the other end of the couch at the feel of warm breath against my ear and an entirely too familiar voice.

"My little dove."

I jumped up off the couch, spinning in circles for where the voice had come from before realizing I was alone. It was in my head, just like he had once been. I shivered involuntarily, crossing my arms tight across my chest.

A knock came from my apartment door and I let out a shriek, throwing the remote I'd had a death grip on across the room as my heart nearly flew out of my chest.

"Uh sorry, didn't mean to scare you in there," a woman's hesitant voice called from the other side of the door. "You're miss…Allen, right? Ordered some tacos from Nina's for delivery?"

I exhaled roughly, running a hand over my face. It was just the food I'd ordered. I was overtired and on edge. I needed food and sleep and then I'd be good again.

He's not here. He isn't looking for me.

Hesitantly I made my way to the door, pulling back the cover on the peephole just to make sure it was the food. A woman in her early twenties stood there, a bag of food in one hand clearly labeled Nina's Tacos, her phone in her other hand as she scrolled absently. I let the cover drop before I unlocked the deadbolt and the door lock.

The woman glanced up at me, pocketing her phone in her jeans as she sent me an awkward smile.

"Didn't mean to startle you," the woman said as she held out the bag.

"Just jumpy from lack of sleep," I mumbled in response, grabbing the bag quickly from her.

"Have a good night," she said with a smile.

"You too," I grumbled quickly before swinging the door shut and locking it.

I briefly heard the woman mutter under her breath, probably about my rudeness, before heading back to the couch and placing the bag of food onto the coffee table. Then I turned, searching the room for where I'd tossed the remote. I spotted it on the kitchen floor, making my way over and snatching it up before slamming my finger repeatedly on the button to change the channel. No more news for tonight.

As I sat down, I eventually landed on some cheesy, Hallmark Christmas romance movie. Thanksgiving was less than two weeks away and internally I noted it was still too early for these awful movies to be playing, but I left it on and got comfortable before digging into my tacos. At least a movie about some small town girl moving to the city and falling for the handsome, single dad but overly-busy and recently-widowed Hallmark handsome man wasn't going to remind me of… him .

It wasn't long after I'd finished my dinner and gotten comfortable on the couch that my eyes started drifting shut. Eventually I forced myself to turn off the TV and headed to bed.

Even though I spent a few minutes first double checking the locks on my front door and that the apartment was truly empty of anyone else.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Blood sprayed across the hall with such force the red liquid coated the glass of my square room. Bright red dripped down the opposite side of the glass from where my hands were pressed against it. Doctor Barlowe dropped heavily to her knees before she fell face first onto the once pristine floor. A surgical scalpel dropped from her limp and bloodied hand at her side. My eyes focused on the scalpel for a long moment before they slowly drifted up to the figure standing beside a terrified but rigid Doctor Whitlock. The strange man was smiling gently at me through the glass, his eyes locking onto mine for a moment before stepping forward towards the intercom to my room.

“Don’t be afraid of me, little dove,” the well-dressed man told me as he held the intercom button down, his accented voice filling my cell. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to free you.”

He lifted his finger from the button and turned his attention to Whitlock; the man was standing still and I couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t running away, especially with Barlowe’s body sprawled lifeless just feet in front of him. As I eyed him for a moment longer, I noticed he was holding a syringe filled with the vibrant orange serum in one hand. The man in the dark suit said something, his voice too quiet for me to hear within my cell. I watched curiously as Whitlock shook his head, his lips moving rapidly as the hand holding the serum began to raise, hesitating just at his own neck.

My eyes darted towards the man in the suit, watching as he stalked casually over towards Whitlock, a smug smile on his lips as he easily side-stepped the dead woman on the floor. He reached the man and patted him lightly on the cheek before Whitlock took a few steps forward towards my cell. The man slid in behind Whitlock, leaning just a bit forward to whisper into his ear. With no warning, Whitlock jammed the syringe into his neck and pushed the plunger roughly down, his scream muffled by the thick glass walls of my room. My mouth parted in shock as my eyes darted back up to the man in the suit. He was smiling gently from his place behind the doctor who was currently screaming and clawing at his throat, completely uninterested in the man’s pain.

Doctor Whitlock’s muffled screams suddenly went silent and my brows furrowed when I noticed his face had gone red, and then a deep shade of violet. The man in the suit walked around him as he headed back towards my cell, his attention only briefly turned to the struggling man. By the time the man in the suit had reached the intercom again, Whitlock’s eyes had rolled back into his head, the white’s of his eyes all that were visible, but they were quickly turning pure red.

And then, with a muffled pop , Doctor Whitlock’s head exploded in a splatter of blood and gore. My eyebrows shot high up onto my forehead before I turned a terrifying glance back at the man in the suit. His lip was curled in disgust as he eyed the blood and brain matter that had landed on his dark suit coat. When he glanced up and met my eyes again though, the gentle expression returned. He reached out and pressed the intercom button again, his eyes on me through the glass.

“They deserved this, don’t feel any remorse,” his smooth voice droned through the speaker. “And you, little dove, don’t belong in a cage.”

My eyes shot open and I was breathing hard. Quickly I sat upright, wrapping my arms around my body and sliding all the way up towards the headboard, pressing my back against it. A new voice whispered into my ear, not Doctor Whitlock’s, but one that had been plaguing me for years.

“Come back, little dove.”

My eyes clamped shut. “No,” I ground out forcefully, shaking my head.

“You belong with me.”

“Shut up, shut up!” I shouted, throwing my hands over my ears and shaking my head.

His laugh filled my bedroom, reverberating around the room and somehow past the hands covering my ears. I flinched at the sound.

“You’re mine, little dove.”

I felt a hand graze the bare skin along the back of my neck and I screamed, flailing in my attempts to get up out of bed and tear myself free of the bedsheets. In my haste, I knocked the lamp off of the nightstand and it fell to the floor with a loud crash. Eventually I scrambled out of bed and raced to the sliding bedroom door, pressing my back against the wall as I turned the light on. The overhead light on the ceiling turned on and flooded the room in light, dispersing the shadows.

The room was empty; he wasn’t here. It was just my messy bed, the dark gray sheets half on the floor now, and my bedside lamp a broken mess on the floor. I was alone.

At least, I was, until a loud few knocks pounded on the front door of my apartment. My eyes darted toward the bedroom door to my left and I froze. My heart was racing in my chest, one hand reaching out to grip the doorframe tight.

“Olivia?” a voice called out, slightly muffled behind the front door and all the way across the apartment. “It’s Matt, down the hall. I heard screaming and a crash. Are you okay?”

My head tipped forward against my shoulder, my eyes drifting closed at his concerned voice.

It’s not him. He’s not here.

I took a few shuddering breaths in, trying to calm down.

“Olivia?” Matt’s worried tone called again.

I pushed off the wall of my bedroom and headed into the short hallway before entering into the living room, turning on every light as I went. When I reached the front door, I pulled the peephole cover back and checked just to make sure. It was, indeed, Matt from next door. I let the cover drop, pausing a moment to rest my forehead against the cold door and trying to compose myself before I unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Matt was standing just outside of the doorway, his hand dropping to his side from where it had just been pressed against the door a moment ago. His hair was askew and he was dressed in a gray tee shirt and black sweatpants. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed, or been about to go to sleep, before he’d wound up on my doorstep. He didn’t have his red glasses on either, allowing me to take in his entire face finally. His soft hazel eyes were creased with concern as they darted all around in my general direction, not focusing particularly on one area. The corners of his lips were pulled downward in a slight frown.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked again as he continued his sightless scan of me.

I swallowed hard before answering, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured him, my voice cracking. I cleared it roughly before adding on, “I just have…nightmares. Sometimes.”

“That was the screaming?” Matt asked, his eyes raising and landing finally somewhere along my cheek.

“Yes, I uh, just had a nightmare,” I admitted awkwardly, my hand brushing some loose strands of hair behind my ear. “I…broke my lamp when I was waking up. I was uh…just a little disoriented. I’m fine, just sort of really embarrassed that you heard all of that.”

The lines of worry eased visibly on Matt’s face as he tilted his head and paused like that for a moment, his gaze dropped somewhere towards my chest. I bit my lip nervously as my eyes scanned his face in the silence. I spotted a cut on his left temple that hadn’t been there this morning and my eyes narrowed for a moment.

“You’re bleeding,” I said before I realized I’d voiced the observation.

Matt’s lips twisted into a puzzled frown. “I am?”

My hand rose, about to gently touch the left side of his face and brush back the hair on his temple and point out the cut, but I froze. The gesture seemed too intimate, I noted, not something I should be naturally trying to do with a neighbor I'd only briefly interacted with three times now. My hand dropped back to my side awkwardly, glad he couldn't see the gesture.

Instead I cleared my throat and told him, "Yeah, it's on your left side, near your temple. It's…it doesn't look real bad but it probably should be cleaned up and bandaged."

I bit my lip as I watched him gently raise a hand and touch near the cut. He winced a little at the contact.

"I fell on the pavement earlier," Matt told me sheepishly. "Didn't realize there was a crack in the sidewalk." He shrugged in an offhand way. "I'm pretty clumsy, I get injured often. Kinda comes with being blind." He let out an awkward laugh. "I can take care of it in a bit, I just want to make sure you're okay."

I chewed my lip nervously, feeling my stomach twist at his blatant concern. I remembered how last night Karen had told me he had said he'd heard me screaming from nightmares since I moved in and how he'd wanted to check on me before. Embarrassment mixed with something else, something I couldn't place, both feelings churning in my stomach.

Suddenly Matt raised a hand, nervously scratching the back of his neck. He glanced towards the ground as he shifted his weight on his feet.

"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have bothered you," he apologized awkwardly. "You don't know me that well and it's late and I'm making you uncomfortable. I'll just–"

"No!" I shot out quickly, cutting off his rambling apology.

He paused, eyes darting back up towards my chin as his brows raised slightly at my interruption. I swallowed hard, my hand nervously re-tucking hair behind my hair.

"No, you're not–I mean it's not," I spluttered nervously. I stopped, pausing to form a coherent thought in my head as he stood there watching me patiently. "You're not…making me uncomfortable," I finally managed. "I…appreciate the gesture. Checking on me, I mean." I laughed softly before I said, "It's very kind of you, checking on your weird neighbor who wakes up screaming from nightmares almost every night."

Matt shifted forward on his feet now, leaning in towards me with a gentle smile on his handsome face.

Why does he have to be so attractive?

"I don't think you're weird, Olivia," he said softly. "We all have our demons."

I huffed out a laugh at his words. You have no idea , I thought.

My eyes darted back up to the cut on his head and I chewed my lip in indecision. I inhaled sharply and spoke before I could stop myself and consider whether I was making a mistake or not.

"If you want to come in I can clean up that cut," I offered quickly. "I might have a bandage in my first aid kit for it." I hesitated, clearing my throat awkwardly before adding, "If you want, I mean."

A warm smile spread across his lips and I made the mistake of turning my attention on them. I felt a pang of something in my gut again before his voice caught my attention.

"I would like that," he said. "Thank you." He held up his hand, one brow quirking up on his forehead as he tentatively asked, “Would you mind guiding me in? I left my cane back in my apartment.”

Slowly I reached out, gently taking him by the wrist and guiding his hand to my forearm. His fingers gripped gently around the bare skin, his thumb just once lightly sweeping across the delicate skin underneath my wrist. His mouth very faintly twitched, his tongue darting quickly between his lips, before I watched him swallow hard. Then his head tilted to the side a bit, a small smile on his face as I suddenly realized I’d just been standing there with his hand on my forearm, staring at him instead of guiding him into my apartment.

I quickly turned my head, wincing at how stupid I must have appeared, before quickly clearing my throat and leading him inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Right, so, I’m guessing the setup is pretty similar to your apartment,” I said awkwardly as I led him down the entry hall. “I’ll just…lead you to the couch in the living room and grab the first aid kit.”

Inwardly I groaned as I led Matt to the couch.

Please tell me I’m not about to make a big idiot of myself letting my very attractive neighbor into my apartment at three in the morning.

#matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil #the defenders #matt murdock series

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