#until then ... places this here with not much of any explanation

[kalied0skull]

no yeah, I'd say my ocs are pretty normal and have decent dynamics.

...aside from those guys, i dunno what's wrong with those two. ^_^;

[iamthedukeofurl]

Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

[ozzgin]

Jellyfish Hybrid x Reader content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

Reluctantly, you turned to face the bizarre creature. He’d been following you for the past hour, silently drifting along as you continued your snorkeling journey. He didn’t seem threatening, yet you were rather uncomfortable with the constant shadow looming behind you. With a sudden jerk, you reached for the surface and removed your snorkel. The gelatinous dome plopped into your vision first, drooping over his features and earning your chuckle. Gravity wasn’t too flattering on this fellow.

“May I help you?”

He adjusted his translucent headpiece and smiled.

“Why yes, I was hoping you’d know how I can return home.”

“How…how would I know? I’m on holiday here, not a place I’m familiar with. Were you brought here by the currents?”

“Oh, no, no, I live in the area. I accidentally followed you around, and now I’m a little confused.”

His expression remained cheerful and unbothered. You wondered out loud if it was a common habit of his to trail after others and end up lost, but he reassured you it had never happened before. He just liked you that much.

Jellyfish Hybrid is an exceptional airhead, particularly bad when he’s with you. It seems that all his survival instincts melt into oblivion, replaced by an overwhelming coziness and warmth. You could almost say your presence is a bad influence on the aquatic hybrid. Once he senses you in the water, he’ll swim around, detached from everything, until he’s found you.

“What kind of coral was that?” you ask through hand gestures, shifting towards your newest snorkeling partner.

“Huh? What coral?”

“…Have you been staring at me the whole time?”

He nods proudly. Well, naturally. What else is there to observe when you’re around? Any scenery pales in comparison.

Jellyfish Hybrid – contrary to your original assumption – is not quite defenseless. You’d once caught the interest of a shark hybrid, who traced your scent and began drawing circles underneath you, slowly closing the gap between you. Just as you noticed the intruder, he scurried away with a pained grimace. Your jellyfish boyfriend had the same flaccid smile on his face, with one small difference: his stinging tendrils were pointed in the direction of the shark. He waved at you and encouraged you to continue your exploration.

"Don't mind the disturbance," he added with glee.

Jellyfish Hybrid has always admired you from a distance. Since the shark encounter, however, you’ve learned it’s not something he necessarily enjoys. Oh, in truth, he yearns to touch you. So much. Yet, he can’t bear the thought of accidentally stinging you or causing you pain. If you ease his anxieties, you’ll discover he’s extremely affectionate, perhaps even cheeky as he gathers his courage to become bolder in his approach. He’s quick to learn how to control his stingers, to a point he can use them on you in a pleasant way. You haven’t really determined a proper explanation for the numbing, pinching sensation that crawls along your body once you’re in his hold, teasing your sensitive areas and causing you to squirm and twitch. He’ll watch your expressions with glazed eyes, enamored and elated.

He wants to see everything there is to his precious human. What a fascinating creature you are.

[cosmictheo]

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 & 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray-457-canon )

—summary: between the chaos of the rebellion, in-ho finally reveals who he really is and tests you to see whether you are ready to take him exactly as he is, in all his glory and power. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 5k (wow) —warnings: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, some porn with some plot, fingering, power dynamics, dom in-ho!!!, body worship, praise kink, obsessive & possessive behavior, straight up manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader as usual, he wants that cookie so bad, use of guns, gunshots, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ✶ part one ── part two

Everything was pure chaos. You could hear gunshots, screams, rushing footsteps, grunts of pain, the sickening sound of the bullet piercing flesh as you walked through the brightly colored corridors of the horrific, bloody place, a place that had turned into a war zone in the last thirty minutes. 

Gi-hun had decided to rebel against the guards, creating an effective plan that had worked, as unbelievable as it seemed. Other players supported him in his idea, having his back through the war zone and basically just shooting everyone who didn't have a player number on their clothing.

In-ho guided you with assured steps, holding your hand tightly, stepping in front of you to shield you at all costs, and that if any of his guards were stupid enough to shoot in your direction, then he might as well take the bullet for you.

You didn't quite understand the reason why In-ho had separated from Gi-hun and the main group, nor did you understand the way his face had somehow suddenly morphed, turning authoritative and somber. Sure, he had said he knew a way to go around the pack of guards that blocked them from getting through to the main control room of the game's higher-ups, but how could he possibly know that? You had been by his side the whole time and never really had the spare moment to study and memorize the maze-like passageways, they all looked pretty much the same.

You had a theory, but you didn't really even want to consider it, it was wild, totally insane. Only someone who worked there would know precisely which way to go and which corner to turn.

There wasn't enough time for you to stop and demand some explanation from him either, so you just followed him around like a lost little puppy, strolling through the endless corridors of the place, stepping up some stairs until you reached an area that seemed absolutely off-limits for someone like you to trespass.

“In-ho?” you tried to call his name, walking up some more stairs, your fingers entwined between his, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

But he didn't stop, turning yet another corner, until you reached what looked like an elevator.

“Mhm? I'm here, don't separate from me, yeah?” he replied without paying too much attention to you, he didn't have to actually glance at you to know that you were scared, full of uncertainty and hesitation.

“Where are we?” you tried to ask once you two stopped in front of the elevator, you turn your head to look at him, eyes big and puzzled, “We can't leave the others...”

He finally drags his attention to you and his expression instantly softens, pulling your hand up with his to press soothing tiny kisses on your knuckles, restraining the urge to crack a smirk at the sight of your pretty face all scared and anxious. He could already feel himself harden in his pants from seeing your lips curl into a small pout.

“They'll be fine, nothing will happen to them”

The loud beep of the elevator pierces the tense silence and it almost makes you jolt, pulling your gaze up to the reddish light flashing on in front of you once the doors open. The gunshots can now be heard far off in the distance.

In-ho begins to step into it, but when he feels your hand pull his, he spins to look back at you, finding you still stood in the same spot, your arm straightened, fingers grasping his, and you look up at him with conflicted eyes, pleading for his mercy. 

Quite literally, you stand firm on your spot, but at the same time, you hold his hand tightly and longingly.

“I need you to be safe, angel,” he began to tell you, trying to convince you, to follow him, to stay by his side, just as you had been doing so far, why would you stop now? “You are not safe here, with all those savages on the loose with guns, they are dangerous”

His expression darkens with revulsion, spitting out the words as if they were poison. You assumed he was referring to the guards...

“But my friends...” you mumbled, turning your head to look back, listening to the gunshots in the distance, beyond the long corridors, as if they somehow were somewhere else already, far away from you, an unreachable place.

In-ho placed his other hand on your chin, leaning closer to you and making you face him again, his thumb brushed the outline of your lower lip.

“Friends?” he grumbled the word with irony rolling off his tongue, his warm breath rasped against your mouth, his eyes gazed into yours with genuine hurt, he looked utterly disappointed by your words, “I'm the only one who cares about you here.”

Your lips half-opened as you held eye contact, scarcely whispering, as if someone else could hear you, “I know, but—”

“You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved,” his voice uttered your name like something familiar, something he longed for, he craved, “Are you really willing to die for them? People who wouldn't give a penny for you? They are killing each other for money, not for friends, not for love. They are here for the money and they don't need you. You know it, come on, you're a smart girl,” he lifted his eyebrows, his other hand dropping yours and climbing up through your body to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him, not wanting you to avert your gaze from him, “Would you die for them?”

You shook your head lightly, bearing in mind the weight of his words and absolutely locked in the darkness of his eyes, absorbing you in, “No”

He smiled, pleased by your answer and he kissed your lips once to praise you, his tongue lightly skimming the edge of your pouted lips, “Then, would you live for me?”

What he was telling you was crystal clear, it had a special significance, a special complicity, an intimacy there was between you.

To die for someone was not as meaningful as to live for them, to make them the purpose of life, to know what they were, what they had in their heart and beyond, and to love them anyway, to stay by their side, to be loyal to them and choose them above all else.

“Yes,” you breathed out before kissing him so passionately, looping your arms around his neck and just before you could jump his bones, In-ho stopped you, reluctantly detaching himself from you, his hands gripping the curve of your waist and squeezing you against his body, his forehead pressed onto yours for a few seconds, recomposing himself. 

“That's my girl,” he gently kissed the corner of your mouth before tugging your hands and leading you with him into the elevator, at last, “Let's put all this behind us, hm? We have to stop them, otherwise no one else will.”

But you wanted him, somehow, you pushed all the killing and the blood behind and then suddenly, it was all him, the way he was gazing at you, how his hand went wrapped around your waist, hand sliding down to your ass to pat it twice, almost in a reprimanding way as he felt your soft lips attach on his neck when the elevator started to go up. You had to wonder how it was possible that the mechanism could carry the full weight of your craving and lust.

“Baby,” In-ho snapped in a disapproving voice, yet he lifted his chin, giving you more free access to his neck, his eyes closing as he felt your tongue sweep across his throat. He patted your ass once more, a little harder now, fingers clutching your hip tightly, “behave”

His hoarse, authoritative voice took you by surprise, causing you to inch away from him, looking up at him with big eyes darkened with desire, your hand lingering on his shoulder, squeezing it with eagerness.

“There's a slaughter going on out there and all you can think about is my cock slamming inside your little pussy, hm?” his gruff voice pronouncing those nasty words made your pussy twitch, your body aching for him by carnal instinct, “My girl's a filthy little slut...”

Before you could respond, the elevator doors swung open and the digital panel on the side indicated that you had gone up two floors, signaling that the place was much, much bigger than you thought.

In-ho pulled your hand gently, taking you with him through a dark hallway, until you entered a main room of an seemingly apartment, spacious and elegant. The sofas were of velvet, the walls black as midnight, a large screen hung on one of the walls, the lights hung in fancy chandeliers above your head. It resembled a suite of the most luxurious hotel.

He stepped closer to you from behind, predatory-like, sliding his veiny hands around your waist and pushing you softly to pace forward, his wet lips latching onto your shoulder and neck, making you sigh tremblingly.

“Do you like it?” he asked in a whisper, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of your tracksuit pants, "I had it fixed and cleaned for you"

“What is this place?” you asked him back, your eyes narrowed as you took cautious steps, your legs wobbly from all the goosebumps that ran through you from head to toe with every kiss he pressed against the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, unleashing a rush of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

His long, slender fingers caressed your lower tummy with affection and to give you a convincing answer, he kissed your skin one more time, before detaching his mouth from you, just barely,  “Your home, princess. Isn't it what you always wished for?” a dark smile tugged at his lips, his fingertips slipping under your shirt, triggering goosebumps along your skin beneath his touches on your stomach. “A spacious and expensive place, that's what you said when they asked you what you wanted to do with the prize.”

“It's beautiful,” you awed, raising your big, marveling eyes to the gorgeous crystal chandelier just above you.

“A pretty home for a pretty girl,” he rustled against the side of your neck, too intertained in kissing and marking it with possession, “It's all yours— I'm all yours.”

A sheepish smile stretched wide on your lips as you felt In-ho pushing you with his body once more, urging you to walk towards the center of the suite, descending down two stairs until you stood in front of a set of sofas, with a dark glass table in the center, on it laid two glasses and a bottle of Whiskey.

Why would you ever need to care about anything else, anyone else? When you had him, this precious place and his heart, body and soul to offer. All for you.

You turned on your heels to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to you. Before he could even gasp for breath, you kissed him, supplying him with your breath, your oxygen. And what else did he really need to live?

His fingers went up to his neck, sneaking between your bodies so that he could begin to unzip the jacket of his tracksuit, pulling away from you just a little and hissing as he felt your fingers tugging at his hair.

In-ho nibbled on your lower lip as he ended the long, passionate kiss, making you wail against his mouth, “We've got to be quick, baby, I've got to take care of the mess out there. They are waiting for my command.”

He was the leader, of course, how had you even missed that little detail?

And of course he was, it all made sense now.

The thought of him in the dark suit, with a black mask, giving commands and having the entire place running under his authority made your whole body flush, core aching for him, for some friction, anything he might give you.

You kissed him again, momentarily thinking that with every kiss someone was dead, a bullet was shot and blood sprayed. But the blaze inside you, the heat pumping through your veins and the way your pussy was weeping for him didn't let you have more than one single thought in your head that wasn't him. 

Your head was possessed, your body submitted to him and your heart clutched in his hands. And all his undivided attention was on you, no matter that his place was under threat or that his guards were out there fighting, dying for him, no, all he could possibly afford to focus on was you.

So, soon In-ho had ripped your clothes off you, leaving you exposed, on full display for his dark, deep gaze to consume every inch in. Your arched back pressed against the velvety smooth back of the black sofa, his body right in front of you, like a starving predator. He was drinking a sip of Whiskey from his glass, never taking his eyes off you.

You blushed under his hungry gaze and motioned to close your knees, squeeze them together, but he was quick to lean down and rest a hand on one of them, caressing it affectionately and clicking his tongue disapprovingly. 

Tch, tch, tch.

“You should have no shame, you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen,” he reassured you, setting the now empty glass back down on the glass table, letting out a shaky breath, “there isn't a moment when I'm not thinking about it, touching it, kissing it, fucking it...”

You threw your head back, panting as you felt In-ho's mouth kiss your ankle, caressing your leg with his fingers as he pulled it gently, forcing you to open them, with him standing right in between them. The gates of heaven unlocking for him.

“So fucking pretty”

He kept whispering over and over again, staring at your body in awe, as if you were the most beautiful work of art ever to be exhibited.

“My pretty baby”

He praised you and praised you and praised you, pressing kisses to your legs, your knees, your thighs, tongue flicking across little scars that cut into your skin, most likely as a consequence of one of the games. 

“There she is... so pretty— shit”

He drunkenly muttered over your cunt, gazing at it throbbing and clenching around nothing. 

Your scent was intoxicating and overpowering. He felt so weak and insignificant in front of the greatness of your body, the warmth it gave him, the beauty of your skin, your curves, welcoming him inside, calling for his name.

“In-ho” you breathed out, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes, feeling the way your wetness trickled down between your legs, dripping to the surface of the couch. 

You were soaked, drenched, so sensitive to his touch and every little friction. And he had barely touched you.  

“Mhm,” he hummed at your call, reaching with his path of sloppy kisses and wet licks all the way up your inner thigh. Your whole body buzzed as you felt his tongue swipe up your slick folds, getting a wet squelchy sound and he laughed huskily, looking up at you, “You're soaking wet,” he marveled, pressing the tip of his finger against your pussy, his thumb teasing just right your aching, swollen clit, instantly getting a whimper out of you.

The finger slid inside so smoothly and shamelessly that it had him choking back a groan.

“Could you take all of me right now?” his voice cracked, words crawling up his throat like groans, so hoarse and deep that it sent vibrations through your center throughout your body, “I don't think we have much time to play”

You were nodding your head the second he finished speaking, your throat making a whining noise that made him crack a smile as he gently placed a kiss once on your cunt, fingertips tenderly caressing the inside of your thigh.

“Yeah? Can you take me?” In-ho asked you once again, in a quiet tone now, your name uttered slowly through his lips, like a longing, a craving, a religion. His eyes softened completely once they met yours again, his fingertips tapped seductively the sensitive, flushed skin of your thigh, “Talk to me, baby”

In-ho was well aware of the hold he had over you, he had the ultimate power and you were shamelessly crawling all over him, profiting from the fact that you would do whatever he asked. Live, lie, kill....

“Y-yes!” you instantly replied between babbles and sniffles, your hands reaching for him, revealing the deep, raw desperation that was making your body tremble, “Please, In-ho, sir, p-please—”

In-ho's pupils dilated so much that all of his orbs looked pitch-black as he lifted and leaned over you to press a kiss on your lips, “You don't need to convince me, princess. If you want it, you got it”

He swiftly removed his whitish shirt, now ruined and stained with someone else's blood, maybe from one of his guards, it didn't matter, what really mattered was the way his skin glowed under the dim golden light and how his chest broadened with every breath he inhaled, your lips parted as you saw how toned and hardened his abdomen was. He looked... exquisite, glorious and majestic standing before you, ready to devour you.

When he pulled down his pants and boxers, your mouth watered with drool and your eyes widened in wonder at the sight of his size. He was big, bigger than you expected, perhaps. His length was impressive and his girth was just perfect, a bulging vein traced from the base to the engorged, leaking head, and you could see it throbbing. 

You felt your mouth watering, starving, but when you reached out your hand to his cock, In-ho backed away from your eager touch, making you look up at him with a pouty face, mumbling words like a spoiled brat.

“I want to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed in an all too calm tone, leaning over the couch towards you to place a kiss on your sweaty forehead, positioning himself between your legs, one hand holding the length of his cock and the other reassuringly caressing your hip, “you got me right here, can't you feel me?” his hand travelled up your body to delicately stroke a strand of hair off your pretty, blushing face. “Aw, don't be so eager. I think I've spoiled you too much, hm?”

You gulped hard as he lined up his plump tip against your wet entrance, your whole body buzzing as you felt him press against your eager little hole, prepared to take whatever he gave it. But it was unlikely that you could be prepared to take something that big.

In-ho sighed shudderingly as well, just barely easing his head inside you, stretching you so, so good and slowly began to push his way through your warm, spongy walls. You gasped several little whimpers, looking up at the ceiling, as if somehow that would help you stop feeling the stabbing pain that spread inside you with every inch he pushed his length in.

“You have to loosen up for me, angel— hah—” he croaked out between gasps, squeezing his eyes shut for a few long seconds, letting himself be enveloped in the overwhelming hot, tight sensation that was your pussy clenching him, “hm— you have to let me in— fuck, you're so tight—”

In-ho pulled out, hissing between his teeth, lazily gripping his shaft, the tip running up and down your slit, gathering some of your wetness.

At your whining and complaining, he pressed again into your center, staring in awe as your hole struggled to swallow his plump head, stretching out your pussy so much.

He stopped right there, halting his hips, his head hardly inside you, your pussy fluttering and drawing him deeper inside, giving you a few moments to get used to his size. Your hands went to land on his forearms on either side of your hips, squeezing him desperately. 

As he tightened his grip on your hips, impeding you from wiggling away from him, In-ho hovered over you, catching your lips with his to muffle your whimpers with his own throat, thrusting achingly slow his hips and sinking inch by inch inside you.

“In-ho” you moaned his name, your nails digging into his skin on his arms, feeling so full, helplessly overwhelmed under him. Everything was him, everywhere around you, “Please—”

Then he kissed your cheekbones, wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes with his lips, bathing your skin with his drool instead, “Don't think, baby, you don't have to think about anything,” he murmured against your mouth, “just take me, yeah? Let me in”

The response he received was blubbering of unintelligible words and whimpers from you, blending in with the squelching sounds of your pussy stretching out for his cock. And that was music to his ears, the most delightful melody.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, I'll take care of it all” he promised you in a  gentle whisper and he is so tender, affectionately caressing the flesh on the side of your upper thigh just before giving it a quick spank, feeling the soft flesh jiggle under the palm of his hand, “Just like that”

He was so tender, giving you two minutes to adjust to his size before ramming the entire remaining length of his cock inside you, the bulbous head of his cock digging it's own way within your velvety walls and reaching so deep inside you that all the air was knocked out of your lungs. All too soon, you were a bawling, moaning mess, so loud and whiny for him.

“There you go, so good, so tight— fuck” In-ho dropped his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, drunkenly babbling words, intoxicated by the feeling of you everywhere, “Just fucking made for me, hm?”

“'Tis all—” you hiccupped, back arching impossibly for him, gazing up at him with adulatory, pleasure-darkened eyes, pounding you into heaven with each luscious thrust of his hips against yours, the bumping sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing against the walls. Slap, slap, slap. “All for you, In-ho— oh!”

You struggled to even use your brain to conjugate proper phrases, occasionally slurring nonsense words.

Your ass and thighs jiggled with each intense thrust, his flesh slamming against yours, the very noise itself sounding pronographic, sloppy and filthy. You could feel your lower body begin to slide down across the velvety surface of the sofa, your skin wet and slippery from all the mixture of body fluids.

So, he scooped you up in his arms, manhandling you back in your position under him on the couch as easily as if he was swinging a feather around, he even made your head bump against the back of the sofa with a particularly harsh thrust, his cock already recognizing it's own shape carved inside you. 

His dark gaze dropped to your stomach, noticing the sway of himself under your soft, sweaty skin, his eyes following the motion of the bulge adoringly. 

In-ho pulled one of his hands up from your waist, beginning to slide it across your skin on your lower stomach and he swoon as he heard your blubbering whimpers at the pressure of his palm on your tummy, both of you sensing the press.

“In-ho, G-god, I can't— ngh—” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and closing them tight, feeling your insides tightening up. “You're so— hah— deep”

“I'm right here” he awed in a quivering, raw adoring whisper, feeling his own cock twitch inside you under the palm of his hand. “Does it feel good, baby?”

You immediately nodded your head, taking in the way his eyes roamed upward across your bulging stomach, past the way your tits jiggled with the power of his own motions.

“I bet it does”

You promptly reopened your eyes and he grunted when the static noise of the radio perched on the crystal table at the couch's side erupted in the sultry room, snapping him out of the mindspace of worshipping your body, just as his lips had parted to suck on one of your tits.

You both swung your heads towards the radio, but In-ho— so ruthless, did not stop his fierce thrusts against your hips, his veiny hands contouring your waist, marking your skin.

“Young-il?” the voice of Gi-hun burst into the room, calling your name more times than In-ho would liked, “Where are you? You're attacking already?”

In-ho just smirked, stretching out and reaching for the small radio over the table, leaving you a whimpering mess as you felt his cock dragging along between your gummy walls.

“Answer him,” he then commanded in a grunt, delivering you a particularly powerful thrust that made you see stars, on his hand he held the radio, right above your face.

“W-what?” you hiccupped, eyes flooding with hot tears, out of pleasure, embarrassment, by the whirlwind of thrills that was shaking your body into submission to his.

In-ho cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him, offering no truce with his savage thrusts, the plump head of his cock tapping your cervix, grinding into that special spongy spot that drove you closer to your climax.

“Tell him you're sorry,” he bent toward you, swiping his tongue along your cheekbone, mopping up a big tear that had slipped from your pretty eyes, “tell him the Frontman got you.”

With the very last of your remaining strength and control of your brain, you actually succeeded in formulating the words he wanted you to say, just as he pressed the voice transmitter button on the little radio.

“I'm sorry, Gi-hun” you blubbered out in between whimpers, and In-ho flashed a dark smile, dipping his head down to start kissing your neck sloppily, lips sucking at your skin until they left dark imprints, “he—”

“What happened?” Gi-hun asked worriedly from the other side, his voice came out desperate as he called your name, and you almost felt sorry for him, but In-ho's cock twitching inside you knocked all thoughts of heartache from you, making you bite your lower lip to choke back a hoarse moan.

He just felt so good, how could you think of anything other than his dick inside you?

“He got me” 

“Who? Where are you? Tell me where you are—” he asked frantically, his voice full of desperation and concern.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt In-ho's mouth latch onto your nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue, his unoccupied hand landing on your other jiggling tit, squeezing just right.

“This fucking body....” he hummed more to himself than to you against the skin of your breasts, dampening it with his spit, “So pretty, so tight, all for me... I got you, I got you always”

“The Frontman, he got me— sorry, Gi-hun” you managed to utter, voice weepy, at least that part would be believable to player 456.

Then In-ho smiled darkly and brought the radio closer to his mouth, his warm breath brushing against your nipple, still looking at you as he spoke, his voice becoming gruff and almost unrecognizable, “You don't have to worry about her anymore, Gi-hun.”

“You sick bastard—”

In-ho turned off the radio, throwing it away, shattering a thousand pieces against the ground. And now, all his attention turned back to you.

Gi-hun's desperate words and suffering appeared to do the necessary effect on him to get his cock twitching inside you again, having you sniffling under him.

“Shh... baby, you're doing so good. You're my good girl, my favorite girl— mhm— yes you are,” he cooed, raising his hand and stroking your hair delicately, his other hand squeezed your hip, moving across your skin until he reached your lower stomach, applying a little pressure over your tummy to make you both gasp as you felt the push of his hand, “Now cum with me, yeah? I know you can do it, I know you can, you're my good girl— shit”

In-ho whimpered against your mouth, his fingers creeping down to your crotch in between your sticky bodies, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit just right and hardly ten seconds later, feelinf your walls constrict around him and seconds later, you both began cumming, riding your highs to reach climax.

He was pumping you with all he had to give, filling you with hot and heavy spurts of cum, making you feel so stuffed that the fluid begins to leak out your abused pussy, spilling down between the tangled mess of your legs onto the couch.

A minute long lingered in your post-orgasm ecstasy, slumping your head against the couch, struggling to catch your breath, every limb shuddering still by jolts of electricity racing through every vein, bone, and muscle. You felt yourself floating in the sky and didn't even feel how In-ho had been propped up against you, trying to level his breathing tucked tightly against your neck. It wasn't until he had gently kissed your skin and straightened up, suddenly pulling his softening cock out of you, very slowly and carefully, you snapped back to reality and down to the ground.

The "pop!" filthy sound and the sensation of his cum dripping down your thighs made you blush, feeling his eyes gawking at the way your gaping pussy was struggling to keep all his cum inside, so greedily.

He then scooped you up in his strong arms and carried you to a bedroom, whispering praises and soft words against your ear, all the way until he delicately laid you down on the bed.

Your hand sought his, halting his motion to move away from you, and he smiled softly, noting how you fought against the sudden, enormous exhaustion that had come over you like a flooding wave.

“I have to take care of the problem, my love, it won't take long, okay? When you wake up again I'll be by your side” he murmured, leaning down so he could kiss the knuckles of your hand, fingers affectionately caressing your smooth skin.

“Don't kill them,” your request made him look at you with a hint of disappointment, letting him know you still felt sorry for the players, how could you not? You were just so good, “They don't know what they're doing.”

But the sweet smile on In-ho's lips didn't even tremble, at your request, your demand, “You don't have to worry about them anymore. They're nothing,” then he moved closer, and kissed your forehead, ”And you're everything. You don't have to worry about nothing, right?”

“Right,” you replied, so naturally, even in that dozy, half-asleep state, still, your loyalty and trust was with him, a fond smile curved across your lips as you lay your head back against the fluffy pillows, drifting off to sleep as you felt his fingers tenderly caress the side of your face, “Thank you, In-ho.”

“Everything for my favorite girl” he promised against your skin.

[eunoiaflow3r]

jealousy, jealousy - harry potter x reader

requests open!!

• warning(s): fluff mostly lol, harry pov, not proofread fr

• word count: 1.2k

• request(ed): “can you please write a jealous harry potter when his girlfriend starts hanging out with cedric?”

• summary: the request lol

————————————————————————

Every Friday after classes, Harry, you, Ron, and Hermione would find a quiet place to watch a movie on the projector Ron had snuck in. It was a tradition the four of you had come up with after finally each falling into your respective couples. You and Harry were first - you both knew you liked each other but never said anything. After a heated argument one day in the library (mostly you were frustrated he wasn’t being safe and smart with his life after an encounter with you-know-who) and he kissed you right in the middle of your rant. You two had been together ever since. Ron and Hermione finally admitted their feelings shortly after.

Tonight, you were late. Only by a few minutes, but enough to have Harry wondering where you were and how you were doing. What he didn’t expect to see or hear was your giggling followed by a deep voice coming his way. His head turned quickly to find you walking towards the group with Cedric Diggory at your side. Harry furrowed his brows and looked to Hermione and Ron in confusion. They didn’t look as worried as he was, but still offered no kind of relieving explanation. Once you reached them, he watched as you said goodbye and walked over to lean down and kiss Harry on the cheek. Cedric waved to the group before heading forward someplace else.

Harry cleared his throat. “Erm was that Diggory over there?”

“Yeah, it was,” you start, “I ran into him and we were talking about the Transfiguration assignment before we realized we were heading the exact same way.”

“Oh, hm, alright.”

And that was the end of that. Harry didn’t press any further. He didn’t see the need and he wasn’t the type. He was just glad you were at his side now and he could enjoy the movie with you.

The next day at breakfast, Harry listened to how worried you were about passing two of your classes. He tried to tell you everything would be alright but he could hardly get a word in. He didn’t mind though. He liked listening to you even if half of it wasn’t really making any sense.

“Y/N!”

Both Harry and your head turn to the noise. It was Cedric Diggory heading your way, papers in hand.

“Hello Potter.” Cedric says smiling.

“Diggory.” He nods politely.

“Y/N, here are those notes that I promised you. I was able to find them in my things from last yea I had buried.”

“Oh my God thank you!” Harry watches you exclaim. “You’re a life saver!”

Harry rolls his eyes as Cedric walks away. He’s even more surprised when you jump out of your seat.

“I have to go study these Harry, I’ll see you later.”

Unfortunately for him, later wasn’t until the night where he was finally able to see you holed up in your room, Diggory’s notes in hand. Like the good boyfriend he is, Harry brought your favorite snacks because he knew you’d want them and wasn’t sure if you had eaten or not. You told him all about what you had learned and understood now that you had the notes, and he stroked your hair and listened until you fell asleep on his chest. For some reason, even though nothing was wrong, every time you mentioned Cedric and his oh so helpful notes there was a little ball of fire simmering in Harry’s chest. Tonight he would ignore it, but he wasn’t sure for how much longer he would be able to do that.

“Do you think this Diggory thing is weird?” Harry asks Ron during a Wizard’s Chess game the next day. You and Hermione were off in the library looking for a next good read. Harry and Ron weren’t as interested in doing that.

“What Cedric? What thing?”

“Well, I don’t know. First he walks her to us on Friday and now he’s giving her notes?”

Ron stuffs his face with toast before answering, mouth full. “Well, I don’t know, sounds innocent enough to me, she’s been really stressing about that class.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

After the match, Harry and Ron make their way to the library and see you and Hermione side by side by side looking looking at a book that was thick enough that your foot could probably break if it was accidentally dropped. Unfortunately, Cedric was right in between the two of you.

“This is amazing.” You gleam. Harry watched as you smiled ear to ear looking at the pages in front of you. It didn’t help the ball of fire that Cedric was smiling too.

“Hey guys.” Hermion says. You look up and when you spot Harry you make your way over to him.

“How was chess?” you ask as you kiss him gently on the lips.

Harry kisses you back while still keeping his eye on Cedric. He notices that Cedric’s eyes haven’t left you. “Ron won. What’s going on here?”

“Y/N and I were looking for a really good fantasy book about this Herbologist and Cedric helped us find something even better since we couldn’t find the copy we were looking for. Guess it was already checked out.”

“Hmm.” Harry says.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

Harry shakes his head as if to say nothing.

Cedric greets the boys and then bids you all goodbye. Harry thought that still his eyes lingered on you for a little too long, but nothing in your response to him gave Harry any pause. You weren’t giving Diggory any extra attention that gave any problem but still he couldn’t quite get the flames to calm down.

Harry held your hand as he walked you to your dorm. He was quiet almost the whole time and let you talk about the book Cedric had introduced you to. To be honest, and he hated, it sounded like a really good book. And Harry hated that. He knows it’s innocent and nothing is technically wrong, but still he was upset because Cedric lately has seemed to be able to help you with so many things.

“Harry?” You ask.

“Hm?” Before he knew it you had already reached your dorm, but he was lost in thought.

“What’s wrong? Honestly this time..” You ask.

“Nothing.” He says. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Harry, you’re lying.”

Harry wanted to deny and argue, but he knew that you knew him better than that and would beat the answer out of him sooner or later.

“I just, you know, Diggory has been doing a lot for you lately and the way he was looking at you today was just..ya’know I -”

“Harry, are you jealous?”

Harry’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that made you smile.

Harry leaned into you as you cupped on of your hands onto the side of his face and the other ran through his hair.

“Harry, I only have eyes for you. You don’t ever need to worry.”

You press your lips against his and he kisses back with fervor. He liked that your lips tasted like cherries for some reason and he savored it while his hands wrapped around your waist. He got butterflies when you moaned as he gently bit your lip. He loves the feeling of you against him and he just wanted to get closer and be able to be in this moment with you forever.

“That’s good to hear.” He says when you finally break away. He could feel heat in his cheeks almost hotter than the moment the two of you just shared.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you Potter. I prefer flushed instead.”

[nochepsicodelica]

It's two in the morning and you're knocking on your own front door after a night out with your friends. Your mind has been occupied by static, not allowing you to remember that you have a key to let yourself in, so you stand there alone, waiting to be let in. You plant your hand on the wall to keep yourself balanced, looking left and right to see if anybody or any car is looking at you as they pass by.

Just as you're about to knock, again, the door opens and you flinch, your other hand flying to the wall to remain steady on your feet. You look up at your man with warped vision, blinking a little to try and clear your view of him. You can't contain your laughter when you see the stern look on Toji's face, his green eyes laced with concern you can't process in this state.

"What the fuck..." Toji mutters, to himself. What kind of friends would just drop you off without making sure that you get inside your house, safely? It's late. Who knows how long you had been standing there before you knocked. Anyone could have snatched you away.

Toji will catch you. You know he'll catch you if you just lean forward into him, like a backwards trust fall, so you set the plan in motion. You drag your feet and move your hands along the wall until you're in the safe zone, and then you just fall forward.

"Woah, hey." He's quick to hold you up against him, to prevent you from sliding down his body and to the floor. "Hey, you good? Talk to me. Can you walk?" Toji doesn't receive much of a response from you. Just quiet little giggles and incoherent mumbles. He sighs and picks you up, draping you over his shoulder. The door is shut and locked, before he makes his way to the bedroom. The light is already on, because he was awake the entire time, awaiting your arrival. Toji sets you down on the bed and briefly sits on the edge, by your feet.

"You didn't answer my calls, and I texted you like twenty times." He lifts your feet and takes their place, before setting them down on his lap so that you are comfortable. His fingers make haste of undoing the buckles on your high heels and he sets the shoes down, placing them under the bed.

You simply hum in response, not entirely sure of how you got to the room. The light is so bright and it's irritating your eyes, making it hard for you to hold them open.

"Told you to let me know if you needed me to pick you up, dummy." Toji wraps his hands around one of your ankles, his fingers kneading with little pressure, incase the area is tender.

"N-Nooo, i'm... here. Here," you babble.

It's so frustrating to be unable to get a full explanation out of you, right now. Your responses are borderline illogical and it's not doing Toji any good. He feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He can't calm down, after he spent the last few hours wondering why you stopped responding to him and why you weren't answering his calls. To open the door and instantly get a whiff of your night out was enraging, not because you got extremely intoxicated, but because there was no one looking out for you by the end of your time out.

Toji understands that there is no point in digging into this, now. You can't even walk or see straight, so he settles for making simple conversation that you can easily digest.

"Did your phone die or something?"

You shake your head, side to side, and his blood boils all over again. This was supposed to be an easy conversation, but he was just so damn worried. His entire body is tense with concern.

"Fuck." He sighs, nodding slightly at your response. "Yeah, okay."

A few seconds of silence go by and Toji thinks you may have fallen asleep, but then you speak up, out of nowhere, again.

"Took lots of pictures..." you mumble, eyes closed as you dig into your pocket for your phone. Once it's in your hand, you toss it on the bed for Toji to grab. He puts your massage on hold and picks up your phone, unlocking it and going to your photo gallery, where immediately, he sees previews of the pictures of you and those so called "friends" who abandoned you on your doorstep. The only reason he cares for those group photos is because you're smiling widely, seemingly laughing, and overall looking extremely happy in every one of them, but as much as he loves the look on your face in those, he loves the pictures you took of yourself and the ones your friends took of you, more. Some you had already sent to him, others he hadn't seen until then, so he sent those pictures to himself.

Toji turns your phone off and sets it aside, before grabbing ahold of your other ankle and repeating the same treatment that he did for the first one.

"There was... ugh..." you sweep away some strands of hair that almost went into your mouth. "A man. I dropped my phone and he- and he got too close behind me when I bent down to pick it up." You nod, with your eyes as wide as they can be in this state, like you're trying to prove that you aren't lying by looking him straight in his eyes.

"That's fucking disgusting, mama." Toji's eyebrows furrow, discomfort written all over his face with this new information you revealed. He squeezes your ankle a little tighter, his mind beginning to cloud with thoughts of never letting you go out without him again, but before he even thinks of spilling these thoughts to you, he asks you the most important questions.

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

"Mm-mm, no." You shake your head as quickly as you can without getting dizzy. "Saw his legs behind my legs and I got up and gave him this look..." You furrow your brows and lid your eyes, a gaze that doesn't seem intimidating or warning enough, now, after so many drinks. Your face quickly relaxes after and you roll your eyes with a tired sigh. "Yup, that was the face I made and then I walked away," you say, your attitude more upbeat.

"Did he leave you alone?" Toji asks, hoping nothing more happened. If there is more, he'll have you describe this man to the best of your ability, and he will hunt him down until he can positively assure that he's no longer part of the world's population.

"Yeahhh, don't know where he went." You hum like you're trying to remember, as if you even have that knowledge. You walked away and didn't turn back around, something that finally concludes your brief inability to recall. "Think he got lost." You giggle.

"Good. I'm glad," Toji says. You hum in agreement, and your eyes fall shut, gracing you with two seconds of sleep before your head nods and you wake up, again. Your bashful smile evolves into a short laugh, one that has Toji smiling at how precious you are. "You tired, mama?"

You nod and blink slowly in response, fighting the urge to shut your eyes for longer. Your lips curl into a lazy smile, when Toji presses a kiss to your ankle, before he moves your feet and sets them on the bed so he can get up.

"Let's get you ready for bed, then."

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[snail-day]

TW: Brief spanking, MDNI, mostly fluff.

Suguru will literally accept anything you hand him while he’s on the phone. Suguru puts up with a lot. The man was created with patience.

A jar you can’t quite open. He’s mid-conversation, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, and without so much as a glance your way, he pops the lid with one effortless twist. Passes it back with a distracted, “Here you go, love,” like your needs are as easy to solve as breathing.

But of course, you’re not done there. If you married the man, might as well torment him a little.

Your poor Suguru, with that low-lidded violet gaze and patient smile he offers when the call’s been going on too long, pacing barefoot through the house. He’s a pacer, of course. Talking about business with what’s definitely not a cult.

So you start testing him. Little things at first.

You hand him one of the girls’ stuffed animals left behind before school. He tucks it under his arm without hesitation, thumb stroking over the little fabric ear, torn at the edges, as he keeps talking, voice soft, footsteps loud against the wood floor.

Then a sock, which he deposits in the laundry room without missing a beat.

Then a spoon. This time, he raises a brow. Lets out a soft, almost amused tsk before dropping it in the kitchen sink with a quiet clink.

Suguru’s nothing if not thorough.

And every time he returns, his eyes flicker toward you. Curious. Playful. A little dangerous. Waiting to see just how far you’ll go before he breaks character.

The next item was a bit more out of pocket. The rock. A smooth little thing you found by the garden. Completely useless.

“Hold this for me?” you ask, eyes bright with mischief, placing it into his palm.

Suguru glances down at the object, then up at you - his smile slow, curling at the edges. “A rock, love?”

You nod sweetly. He takes it with a chuckle, returning to his call. Cradles it in his large palm. Rolls it once between his calloused fingers, gives it a small toss, then tucks it into the pocket of his sweats that hang low on his waist.

You can hardly hold in your giggle. Because now, well, you have to get more bold.

You hand him your panties. Still warm and soft from the heat of your skin. No warning, no explanation - just folded neatly and passed to him like you’re handing off a napkin.

This time, he pauses.

Suguru’s dark, thin brows raise a fraction, a knowing tilt to his mouth. He hooks the lace on one long finger, gives you that look - head tilted, eyes dark, heat blooming behind them.

Still, he says nothing. Just returns to his call, spinning your panties lazily around his finger like it’s any other object you’ve handed him.

You’re proud of yourself, honestly. Until you push one step further.

The note is folded tight, corners creased from how long you’ve been hiding it. You pass it over wordlessly, pretending to busy yourself while watching from the corner of your eye.

Suguru opens it and reads aloud slowly in a soft whisper.

"Help. I’ve been kidnapped. My name is - "

He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to. His thumb stills on the corner of the paper. The smile that pulls at his lips is slow, dangerous. The kind that makes heat curl low in your belly.

You don’t hear him end the call. Just the quiet click of his phone being set down.

“Love,” Suguru drawls, stepping into your space, “you wouldn’t be trying to embarrass me, would you?”

Your breath catches. Barely able to meet his eyes without his fingers tilting your face to meet his.

“No,” you lie, all innocence.

Suguru tsks softly, and suddenly his hand is on your lower back, guiding you gently, so gently, toward the couch.

“You know I don’t mind holding your things. Your rock. Your panties,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “But I draw the line at bratty behaviors. If you wanted attention, you could've just asked.”

You yelp when he bends you over his lap, your squeal swallowed by the warm slide of his palm under his, sorry, your shirt.

“And now,” he hums, voice amused and low as the first firm smack lands on your bare ass, “you’re going to say thank you.”

Another slap, just enough to sting. Red blossoming.

“Thank you,” you breathe, already flustered.

He hums, pleased, smoothing his hand down your spine. “For?”

“For… holding my rock?”

“And?” Another spank.

You squirm. “...My panties.”

“Mmm.” He bends close, presses his lips to the back of your neck with a feline smile you can feel. “Good girl.”

His hand glides over your rear, tracing the swell of his handprints. You're silly to think he'd be gentle over such cheeky behaviors.

“And next time you write me a note?” he whispers, just before nipping at your ear, “Make it a love letter, yeah? That way I can let everyone know how much you love me.”

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter one]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn

a/n — oh how i wish to leave my academically rigorous life and get isekai-d… next chapter will be sometime next week as i’m on the brink with finals (the class average on the exam is 7/45 we are not okay) i might not reply to all comments but i want u to know i see all of them n blush & kick my feet every time 🥰

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open! series masterlist | part two

chapter one: descent — after finding yourself in an unfortunate accident, you wake up in the world of love and deepspace. you go from burned out college student to secretary at your wit's end. wc: 4k

January snow falls on your tongue, plumes of warm air escaping your breath into the cold. It was just your luck to get saddled with a 7 PM class this semester, relegated to walking home in the late winter chill. You clutch your bag tighter as you walk down the desolate road, devoid of any streetlights— when a vehicle swerves and crashes into you. The impact is that of a sledgehammer to your body, as you hear the crunch of glass and the snap of bones. 

This is the end, you think, as the world around you blurs into nothingness. 

—————————————————————

You rise to consciousness upon hearing a steady, mechanical beeping— and promptly have a panic attack upon seeing the IV attached to your arm. You feel yourself hyperventilating, the heart rate monitor crashing as a triad of nurses comes in to restrain you. You desperately thrash against their hold, trying to remove the intrusive line from your body, but it’s no use; your injuries and the numerous drugs running through your system hamper your movements. You hear muffled explanations— inaudible to your clouded mind— before they decide to sedate you. You drift back into slumber. 

Sometime later, you wake up again, this time with the IV detached and a familiar face sitting casually by your bedside. You do a double take at the silver-haired man. And you laugh. You must be in some sort of dream or coma-induced hallucination. Because why was Sylus, a love interest from Love and Deepspace— the game you have been obsessed with for the past few months— sitting here in flesh and blood? You say as much, and he deigns you with the response, “Did you sustain brain damage on top of your other injuries?”

You shake your head at the absurdity of your delusions, quickly falling back into a medically-induced sleep. Things should be back to normal when you wake up.

—————————————————————

Newsflash: they weren’t. As days passed, you gradually had to accept that— whether reality or not— you were going to be stuck here until you figured out how to return to your world. 

Sylus visits you from time to time, the strange girl who landed in his backyard and claims to be from another world. It turns out that the place you’ve woken up in is not a hospital, but Onychinus’s medical ward. Your conversations are minimal, mostly veiled threats as he questions your intentions and identity. “I’ll give you one last chance,” He exhales in frustration as he interrogates you for the hundredth time, “To explain why you’ve trespassed here, before I decide for myself.” 

“…I didn’t want to die?” You answer meekly. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s not being as menacing as he thinks he is, hovering over a patient confined to their hospital bed. You take a spoonful of your pudding when he looks away. Better than hospital food back home, at least.

There's little you can say that won’t make him think you’ve gone mad. But, maybe you are. A strong part of you believes that any moment, you’ll be waking up in a padded room, wearing a straitjacket.

You spend your days drifting in and out of sleep, staring out the window into the underbelly of the N109 Zone. Each day you awaken to the sight of the dark cityscape fills you with disappointment and dread, as you realize this may not be a dream. You miss the warmth of your own bed. You miss the soft daylight streaming into your apartment. (You miss home.) 

When you’ve healed enough to be discharged, you have nowhere to go. So you turn to the only person you’re familiar with in this world.  

You corner him in the hallway outside your room, dressed in the ill-fitting clothes given to you. (The ones you wore during the accident couldn’t be salvaged, they said, handing the torn and bloody garments to you. Your only possessions in this world, now ruined.) You fidget with your hands, daring yourself to look him in the eye. “I don't have a lot of work experience, but…” You earnestly list off all of the projects and internships you’ve undertaken in the previous years, selling your skills with the desperation of someone who has nowhere else to go. 

You were just a college student, months away from graduation before you found yourself here. Your life was tiring; an endless backlog of readings and back-to-back assignments waiting for you at the end of each day, the pressure to succeed constantly weighing down on your conscience. But despite it all, it was a fulfilling life; working every day to the bone in order to achieve your dreams. 

Now, it fills you with spite— how everything you had worked hard for was taken away in the blink of an eye. But you push the bitterness aside, offering whatever skills you have to Sylus so he doesn’t kick you out. You know that this world isn’t kind, the N109 Zone being one of the worst places you could have ended up. A normal civilian such as you wouldn’t be able to survive here alone.

You don’t spare a breath until the very end of your spiel, “—and, it would only have to be until I find a way to return home,” You finish. All the while, you’re hiding your anxiety; because how exactly do you get home? (A part of you cruelly whispers: if you can.) 

“Pretty please?” You add with a grimace, when the silence becomes overwhelming. 

He looks at you with cruel amusement, chin tilted down like a king with a peasant at his feet. The Sylus of Love and Deepspace may have been a devoted lover, but the man in front of you now is a cold and ruthless criminal. He takes a step forward— you think he plans to rid you from his sight, when he says, “Don’t make me regret it.” 

—————————————————————

Though you don’t have much to contribute to a criminal organization, you’re grateful when Sylus offers you the job of his personal secretary. 

The past few weeks before the accident had been spent in the post-holiday rush of schoolwork. With only your job to keep you occupied now, you’ve never found yourself with so much time on your hands. Years of building time management skills helps you to cope with the high-paced nature of this world, so you put your whole blood, sweat, and tears into this job, repaying Sylus’s generosity with your efforts to earn your keep around here. 

As his personal assistant, you have no precedent to follow because Sylus just… does everything on his own. Despite the number of minions and associates he has at his disposal, when it comes to his personal business, Sylus is a one-man army. So, you insert yourself into his workflow and commandeer his schedule; the man doesn’t even have a calendar, for crying out loud. Although you don’t have much work experience, your previous internships and methodical nature help you to excel at this job. Never has the leader of Onychinus been so…. organized, his colleagues and associates observe the stark change in the following months. 

“Miss Secretary,” Luke and Kieran affectionately call you, “What’s your secret to dealing with the bossman?” They ask, in dramatically hushed whispers. 

Sylus was untouchable— unrivaled at his job— which often enabled his imperious disregard for everyone else’s time and patience. Being late or completely missing meetings if something he deems more important arises (an auction for a vintage record is not something you deem important enough over an executive meeting), expecting his minions to accomplish the impossible in a matter of days. “I did the heavy lifting, surely you can manage the scraps,” He drawls from his leather, ergonomic chair, looking bored to bits. 

Though you already knew this from your time playing the game, it was different to experience it, and extremely more difficult to tolerate.

But you’ve dealt with worse in the form of freeloader group mates and hard-headed cousins. Over time, you whip him up to shape, scolding him when he arrives late to meetings, making sure he actually calls back when he says he will. “And what if I don't?” He asked with an edged smile on his face, the first time you admonished him. 

As you learned with your experience with children over the years: disappointment hits harder than anger. You cross your arms, holding back your true frustration. “Well, you’d be making mine and everyone else’s job ten times harder. And I would think much less of you.” You thought you’d get sacked the moment the words came out of your mouth. 

But instead, momentary shock flitted through his eyes— a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. “Well, I can't have my lovely secretary think so lowly of me, now can I?” He gave you a demeaning pat on the head, your irritation coming back in full swing. 

Over time, you grow to have a deeper respect for Sylus and how he runs Onychinus. He surprisingly takes criticism very well. At least, when it comes from you. You vividly remember the time he used his evol on an associate who dared to criticize his business practices. (He was being rude, anyway.) Neither is he the type to exaggerate his capabilities, easily admitting to his limitations. “I suppose I’ll have to learn then,” Is his attitude when it comes to his shortcomings, and you admire it. 

However, none of this stops him from being a bastard from time to time and making your job harder than it needed to be.

—————————————————————

Once Sylus started entrusting you with more responsibilities, you started handling his work line. His business partners now call his office to be greeted by a chirpy voice, “You’ve reached the Onychinus hotline, how may I help you? Oh, Sylus isn’t here right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

This especially came in handy when certain little rats wouldn’t stop bothering him on the phone. “You want to know if he’ll attend the anniversary ball on the 21st?” You made eye contact with him across the room. He immediately shook his head, as he caught wind of the brown-nosing colleague who couldn’t take a hint. “He’s not here right now, unfortunately. I'll get back to you through email as soon as I can.” (You never did.) 

Another new responsibility you’ve been given is to mediate dissatisfied clients. You’re surprisingly good at it; sometimes he wonders if you’ve taken some sort of PR training before. With how you handle these grown men acting like children without offending them, you’re either the most patient person to exist or very discreetly planning murder. He would’ve just resorted to threats of maiming (and execution of said threats when necessary). It makes things a lot easier since— according to you— his abrasive personality creates more problems than necessary. 

He initially gave you this job as more of a placeholder role, so you can occupy yourself with the illusion of real responsibility while he investigates his suspicions about you. Where did you come from? Who sent you? And most importantly, how did you manage to infiltrate his base right under his nose? But his investigation leads him to the simple truth: there was nothing on you. It’s as if you materialized from thin air. No records, no blood ties, no evidence of your existence before you walked into his life. 

But if reincarnation can be fact, and dragons more than legends, why deny the possibility of other realities? This, more than anything, makes him inclined to believe your claims. 

Besides, you’ve proven yourself to be… useful, he can admit. You easily adjust to his nocturnal schedule; like another little crow chirping from his shoulder at all times of the day. 

“Chop chop, Sylus! You have a 9 o’clock meeting at The Nest and it’s already 8:30,” You storm into his office to remind him. You can count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to overhaul his schedule into oblivion because of a single missed meeting. 

“Don’t worry, dear,” He idly spins in his chair, with no intention of leaving anytime soon. “It’ll only take me fifteen minutes.” 

You whipped your head at him in alarm, “I’d rather you not break the speed limits to get there on time.”

It takes you one look at his daily schedule to nag him about his more concerning eating habits, even going so far as to ask his preferred meals to inform the chefs in advance. “Are you going to explain to me why you’ve spent two whole hours on a single meal?” You sit across from him at the table; stunned would be an understatement at how you feel seeing all the empty plates surrounding him. 

He huffs. It’s not his fault his more… draconic habits carried over into this life. “Can I not even have my lunch in peace?” 

“At least space your meals out. Or eat dinner. You’re going to get hunger pangs before you go to bed, at this rate.”

Sometimes, you even resort to physically forcing him out of his office the moment noon hits, in an attempt to prevent him from overworking, “Sun’s up, boss. It’s time to hit the sack.” He’s long since learned not to fight you on this. Even if your attempts to push at his back are puny, at best. 

Your days together go by in this peacefully chaotic nature; your presence likening to a storm that has come to uproot his life. He pays you egregious amounts of money to make his job easier, and in turn, you make sure he’s fed, well-rested, and most importantly, aware of his goddamn schedule. 

It helps that your office is connected to his, although it's less a room and more an alcove he cleared away when he gave you the job. You have a small desk, a fluffy swivel chair, and a shelf covered in the trinkets you spend your salary on. (Another thing you have in common with Mephisto, he notes to the ever-growing list.) 

He could shut the doors to your “reception area,” as he likes to call it, but he finds amusement to idly watch you during his downtime. Your desk is in the perfect position to observe you from the corner of his eye. It had been a strategic decision, when he knew nothing of you or your intentions. Now, it’s become a pastime for him to watch you and your silly habits. Twirling the strands of your hair and chewing your pen, as you talk on the phone about weapons shipments and insuring someone who lost a finger in an operation. 

He’s not accustomed to being in such close quarters with someone, to letting someone into the crevices of his life. Yet slowly but surely, you weave your way into not only his work, but into the threads of his everyday existence. You leave your mark all throughout his home; from small trinkets magically finding their way onto random surfaces, your sweater claiming its new home on the couch armrest, a new mug in your favorite color left in the kitchen sink. Sometimes he can tell you’ve just left a room, when he inhales the lingering traces of your perfume. 

Your presence slips its way into that of his found family, too. The moment you laid eyes on Mephisto, the mechanical crow had immediately claimed a soft spot in your heart. You affectionately call him Mephie. From feeding him tiny bites of your dinner (he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he can’t digest food), to finding shiny trinkets such as coins and jewelry to add to his collection, you’re very close to displacing Sylus as the crow’s favorite in the house. 

Despite only being a few years older than Luke and Kieran— the exact middle between their and Sylus’s age— you both indulge and scold them. You join in on their pranks (you’re often the key to setting it up, what with your way around his schedule) but become extremely disappointed if their fun results in collateral damage; from a broken vase, to a rescheduled mission. Similar to Sylus, you keep them in check but stand right alongside them in the chaos. 

Contradictory to his initial expectations, you prove yourself in a professional capacity and cement your place in the ranks of Onychinus.

—————————————————————

The snow melts and spring creeps in, marking three months since you found yourself in this strange new world. Most days feel like a haze to you. Your secretarial duties keep your mind occupied, leaving little room for sorrow to settle in. But when you clock out and are left in solitude, your thoughts become your worst enemy. For that, you linger around the base a lot. Commandeering the kitchen to make midnight snacks, playing cards with Luke and Kieran in the living room, bothering Sylus when he’s cleaning his quarters. You toe the line for how much sleep you need to make it through the day— a bit hypocritical, you admit, given how you scold Sylus when he works at his office late into the night.

Misguided as it was, maybe it was a drop of fortune that you found yourself in his world. You’ve read stories of being transported to other worlds— of lions, witches, and wardrobes; of tornados, munchkins, and wicked witches. But the rabbit hole you’ve fallen down has been nothing like those tumultuous journeys. Your days in the office are warm and lovely— far from the crazed rush of deadlines and youthful chase of dreams you were living out in university, but a quiet contentment, nonetheless. Over time, you find yourself growing attached to the new life you’ve built, to the new family you’ve found. 

But the moment your head hits the pillow, it is the image of your family glued to the back of your eyelids. You see them worried sick about your disappearance, posting missing papers and wondering where you are, if you’ve become another statistic. (You don’t want to face the possibility that they may not be worried at all. That they may know exactly where you are, buried you there themselves.) For every smile and moment of laughter is a whisper in the back of your mind: Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss home? 

You invest all your guilt and spare energy into combing through the hoard of resources at your disposal. The reach of your information is almost endless, with Onychinus being the reigning authority in the N109 Zone (and secretly, some cities, too). Yet, there’s nothing. Your search feels futile, each failed lead adding to your ever-growing hopelessness. 

During the day, no one would know any better; with how you hide your inner turmoil, composing yourself into your role as Sylus’s secretary. But your ghosts ambush you into the night. Nightmares plague you throughout your intermittent slumber, as you constantly arise from vivid memories of the accident and of your past life (of waking up and finding yourself six feet underground). Your anxieties have evolved from a restlessness to return to a growing fear of what might await you. 

One night, you find yourself near-suffocating under plush sheets, thrashing as you dream of dirt piling on top of you. Sorrowful figures shoveling you into the ground and muffling your pleas, I'm here. I'm still here. Your terror carries over into reality, a scream leaving your throat as you jolt up in bed, once again finding the sight of the cityscape before you— now a source of comfort, rather than despair.

An imaginative mind is a gift at best, and haunts you at worst. You stumble as you leave your bed, heart racing and the fictional taste of dirt still in your mouth. You feel that you will vomit if you stay here, in sweat soaked sheets and stuffy air. So you grab a coat and make your way to the rooftop, where you find that someone had the same thought as you.

“Can’t sleep?” Sylus asks with his back turned, having sensed your presence before you could make yourself known.

You ignore his question, breathing in the dew and the early March air, breezing past even in the barren cityscape of the N109 Zone. “It's late, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?” He retorts, scooting over in a silent invitation. You shiver as you take a seat beside him on the cold metal bench.

“It’s nothing, really,” You shake your head, voice trembling as you try to voice the terror that had taken over you, “Just nightmares, you know. They happen sometimes…” 

Bathed under soft moonlight, he quietly admits, “I understand. I get them, too. I often find myself here when I can't go back to sleep, when it feels too stifling inside.” 

“Before, I used to be mad at myself for falling asleep. I had to pull a lot of all-nighters for college, back then,” You explain, hitting your feet against the metal leg of the bench. “There were only so many hours in a day, but so much left to do… It’s ironic. Now that I want to sleep, I can't.” You laugh, but it’s hollow and empty. 

“What is it that you dream about?” 

You muse upon it, “Home. My family and friends. I dream of my childhood home a lot, but those are the good dreams. But then there are ones about all the things I'll need to catch up with at university, when I return,” Everything you have lost. Everything that was taken away from you. You laugh, thinking about it, “Those are the real nightmares. My to-do list is going to be taller than me once I get back. But what about you?”

A bittersweet smile paints his face, “Oh, the usual. Just about everything I've done wrong in my existence.”

You gasp dramatically, slamming a fist to your chest, “The great ole’ Sylus, ruler of all that breathes and crawls in the zone, feeling guilt?”

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He playfully rolls his eyes, before turning somber once again, “I feel regret, maybe, at what I could have done differently. Sometimes I dream of turning back time.” He dreams of his days inside the chapel, a short refuge within a terrible era of this world. Is it so wrong that he wishes to return to it? To live within that bubble of peace forever? 

“That’s interesting. I don't know if anything would change if I could turn back time… I have a feeling I'd still be where I am.” Unease grows within you the more time passes. That however hard you try, you are bound to the direction you’re headed in. (That you have been for a while.)

The conversation settles into a comfortable silence, as the two of you gaze at the nocturne before you. You stare into the sea of lights glittering below, headlights and neon signs glowing within the city that never rests. They blur together, these lights. Soft colors of blue, green, red, growing ever duller until you find yourself falling back into a peaceful slumber. 

—————————————————————

He sits in quiet tranquility, your slumbering figure resting on his shoulder, the smell of your shampoo overwhelming his senses. Once you’re sound asleep, he carries you back to your bedroom, careful not to disturb the long sought-for sleep you had just achieved.

What was once a potential threat is now precious cargo in his arms, muttering incomprehensible murmurs in her sleep. How can someone be so harmless and lovely? He thinks, brushing aside your stray wisps of hair. As he walks down the opulent halls of his home, he muses on how, like a storm rolling in, you have swept your way into his life. He lays you in your bed, tucking you gently underneath the cotton sheets. 

It happens here, during the first breath of spring after winter, as he gazes upon your soft form. For the first time in a millennia, he feels the quiet stirrings of his heart, beating for something he cannot yet name. 

—————————————————————

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[wolvietxt]

𝓓RAWN TO 𝓨OU !

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader  warnings : reader has a cat mutation, fluff, hurt comfort, past traumas, shy!reader wc : 1.8k

logan’s first mistake was being nice to you. 

you’d only been at the x-mansion for a couple of weeks, still getting used to the overwhelming energy of it all. after years of isolation and trauma, being thrown into a lively, bustling environment like this felt like stepping into a different world. you’d barely been able to keep up, senses overloaded with all the new faces, noises, and scents around you. everything was too much, too loud, and you felt like a stray cat caught in a storm.

it was one of those days when you were trying to find a quiet corner, somewhere to hide from the noise. the rec room was packed; laughter, conversations, the clatter of cutlery and plates filled the air, setting your nerves on edge. you sat in the corner, tail flicking anxiously, ears flattened against your head as you tried to drown out the chaos. you could feel your claws digging into your palms, a desperate attempt to ground yourself before you bolted. 

but then you caught a familiar scent - woodsy, rugged, with a hint of cigar smoke. it cut through the haze like a lifeline, something steady to latch onto. you turned your head and saw him: logan, walking through the crowd with a beer in his hand, that permanent scowl etched onto his face. 

you didn’t even think twice; you just got up and followed him. 

he didn’t notice you right away. he was too busy glaring at the world, lost in his own thoughts as he made his way through the mansion. it wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he paused, glancing over his shoulder and finding you trailing behind him like a shadow. 

“the hell’re you doin’?” he grumbled, eyes narrowing as he took in your anxious stance, the way your tail was flicking behind you, betraying your nerves. 

you froze under his scrutiny, unsure how to explain it. a soft mewl escaped you, one you hadn’t meant to make, and his scowl deepened. but he didn’t tell you to go away. instead, he just let out a resigned huff, turning back around with a muttered, “fine, just... don’t get in my damn way.”

you stuck to his side after that. 

logan found it annoying at first - he wasn’t exactly a people person, and having someone constantly following him around like a lost kitten was grating on his nerves. but no matter how many times he tried to shake you off, you’d always find your way back to him. it was like you had some kind of sixth sense for where he was in the mansion. if he was in the garage, you were there, perched on an old crate, watching him work on his bike with wide, curious eyes. if he was out back, smoking a cigar, you were sitting a few feet away, basking in the quiet comfort of his presence. 

he didn’t get it. 

“don’t you got somewhere else to be?” he’d grumble every now and then, but there was never any real heat behind it. 

you’d just shake your head, a small, shy smile on your lips. “i like being here... with you.” 

and maybe that was the turning point, the moment he stopped trying so hard to push you away. it wasn’t like you were causing trouble - you were quiet, easy to ignore when he wanted to be left alone, but always there when he needed an extra hand or just... someone to share the silence with. 

the others noticed, of course. 

“she’s like your little shadow, ain’t she?” rogue teased one day, leaning against the doorframe of the garage, her eyes twinkling with amusement. 

logan just shrugged, wiping the grease off his hands. “she’s harmless,” he muttered, like that was enough of an explanation. 

“she’s cute too.” rouge muttered under her breath, a smirk forming on her face. “hey, do you know why she’s even following you around in the first place?

“i got no fuckin’ clue. says she’s just drawn to me?”

the smile on her face grew tenfold, “oh logan...”

he shot her a confused look, her teasing eyes only twinkling more, a little snort that she seemed she couldn’t hold in forcing it’s way out.

things took a turn one night when you showed up outside his door, clutching a blanket to your chest, looking more skittish than usual. it was late, the mansion quiet except for the distant hum of the generator, and logan had been looking forward to some peace and quiet. 

but then there you were, eyes wide and pleading, ears drooping like a scolded cat. 

“what is it?” he asked, voice gruff, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. 

you shifted on your feet, not meeting his eyes. “can i... stay here tonight?” you whispered, so soft he almost missed it. “i... i don’t want to be alone.” 

logan stared at you for a moment, torn between his instinct to tell you to go back to your own room and the strange, unfamiliar urge to protect you. finally, he just let out a heavy sigh, stepping aside to let you in. 

“fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just for tonight.” 

you nodded quickly, slipping past him and settling on the floor next to his bed, wrapping yourself in your blanket like a cocoon. he watched you for a moment, the way you curled in on yourself, small and vulnerable, before turning off the light and getting back into bed. 

but it wasn’t just for one night. 

you kept coming back, night after night, until your pillow and blanket became a permanent fixture in his room. logan didn’t say anything, just grunted in acknowledgment whenever you slipped in after dark, but he never turned you away. 

“you know you could just take the bed,” he said one night, half-asleep, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. 

you shook your head, though he could barely see it. “i’m fine here,” you whispered. “i don’t want to be a bother.” 

logan just huffed, turning over, but he didn’t press the issue. 

he didn’t realise how used to your presence he’d gotten until you weren’t there. 

you’d gone on a mission with some of the others, promising him you’d be careful, but he couldn’t shake the bad feeling gnawing at his gut. he tried to distract himself, burying himself in his usual routines, but everything felt... off without you trailing after him. 

when they brought you back, bruised and bloodied, something in him snapped. 

“what the hell happened?” he growled, stalking over to where hank was tending to your injuries, his fists clenched at his sides. 

“it was my fault, lo” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “i... i thought i could handle it.” 

logan just shook his head, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “you’re not fuckin’ ready for this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

you flinched, your ears flattening against your skull, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone. 

“dammit,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “i didn’t mean it like that. just... don’t scare me like that again, alright?” 

you looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, brimming with unshed tears, and he felt something tighten in his chest. 

“i just... i feel safe with you,” you whispered through your watery expression, so soft he almost missed it. 

logan’s expression softened, the anger draining from his face. 

“yeah, well,” he muttered, looking away, “you are. safer, i mean.” 

one night, as you were curled up next to him, your tail wrapped around his leg, you murmured something that made his breath hitch.

“i’ve never felt like this before... safe, i mean,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost lost in the darkness.

logan went still, his heart pounding in his chest, but he didn’t pull away.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice rough, unsure of where this was going.

you nodded against his chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin. “with you... it’s different. i don't feel like i have to look over my shoulder all the time. i’m not scared when i’m with you.”

he was silent for a moment, trying to process the weight of your words. the confession hung between you, fragile and tentative.

“you mean that?” he finally asked, voice gruff, his hands tightening around you just a bit.

“yeah,” you breathed out, turning to look up at him, eyes wide and honest. “you... you make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.”

logan swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting right through him. he wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew he didn’t want to mess this up.

“that’s all i need,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, and logan felt something warm and unbreakable settle in his chest.

logan swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting right through him. he wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew he didn’t want to mess this up.

“i don’t know what the hell i’m doin’,” he muttered, looking down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “but i’ll stick around if that’s what you want. i’ll try... for you.”

you smiled softly, leaning into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was still holding back, afraid to take the next step. so, you did it for him. with a hesitant breath, you lifted your hand to his face, gently tracing the rough line of his jaw with your fingertips.

“logan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. his eyes softened at the sound of his name, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something unspoken. 

slowly, he dipped his head, bringing his face closer to yours. you could feel the warmth of his breath, the way it hitched slightly, as if he was still unsure. but then his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking you. 

the kiss was gentle, almost shy, a stark contrast to the rough edges that usually defined him. his hands cupped your face so carefully, as if you were something precious and fragile, something he never wanted to lose. your eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping you as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth and tenderness he rarely showed to anyone else.

logan’s thumb brushed against your cheek, a silent question, asking if this was okay, if this was what you wanted. you answered by pressing closer, your lips moving against his in a slow, careful dance that spoke of trust, of finding solace in each other. 

when he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed. he stayed like that for a moment, just holding you, as if he was afraid that letting go would mean losing this fragile connection.

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, voice rough with emotion, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“maybe,” you whispered back, smiling softly, your eyes shining as you looked up at him. “but i think i found something special too.” 

logan just held you tighter, his lips ghosting over yours once more, a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

🌀 logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[uvobreakmylegs]

Unforeseen

for fun this year @hypnoswrites and I both wrote Illumi fics for Valentines Day. no connection between the fics, just more dead fish eyes for love day this year :D

here's her fic~

Red Thread of Fate Soulmate AU with Illumi x reader

💕Happy Valentines Day💕

Warnings: assassination, mentions of death, mentions of torture, kidnapping

Word Count: 13.4k

Most days were rather dull for Illumi, he had to admit.

They largely consisted of the same limited activities: travel somewhere, accept a job, locate and kill a target and then be paid for doing so. Sometimes he met with the client if such a meeting was necessary for any reason, but most clients were satisfied with the transaction taking place through the butlers, so these days Illumi rarely needed to take part in a face to face meeting.

Sometimes days were different. Sometimes Chrollo required his services, which Illumi took, much to the annoyance of his father. Sometimes Hisoka decided to bother him, and Illumi would hold back on taking out his annoyance on the magician since it felt like getting rid of him at that moment would be a waste. Sometimes it was Illumi himself causing the detour in his routines, halting his work for something that he determined would be of use to him in the long run, such as the time he had spent taking the Hunter exam. But such things didn't happen often.

Aside from those instances and his frequent trips home before he went back out on a job, the routine largely stayed the same.

Travel. Kill. Payment. Again and again.

And while Illumi was in no way dissatisfied with his life was it was currently, it felt as though there was something missing.

Namely, his soulmate.

Like most who were capable of using nen, Illumi learned of the connection after he mastered gyo and subsequently found that invincible red thread around his finger. The explanation of what that thread meant was followed by strict instruction: that once the thread grew taut, it meant that his soulmate was nearby, and when that happened, he needed to find whoever it was on the other end of the thread and secure them. As with everything his parents told him, Illumi listened carefully and remembered their words, and not a day had gone by since then that he would check on the thread whenever he was away from home, wondering when the time would come that his soulmate was meant to meet him.

The meeting was something Illumi thought of often. For years following the day he learned of soulmates, he found himself gazing at that thread on his finger in the quiet moments during long hours of travel. The more time wore on, the more he wondered who was at the other end and why he hadn't yet met them. At first, when he was still in his training, he had expected that he would meet his soulmate once he had fully mastered nen. But that had been quite some time ago and no such thing had happened, thus his assumption had been false. So Illumi was left to wonder why it hadn't yet happened. Wondering why, after all of the time he spent traveling for jobs, the thread continued to lay slack and dead and refusing to lead him to that other person.

But patience was one of the qualities of a good assassin, and thus, Illumi waited. And until the day came where he would find the person that fate had decided belonged to him, he would continue with that same routine.

Travel. Kill. Payment.

Again and again, always working hard to do his best to uphold the Zoldyck family name, and always trusting that he would find his soulmate whenever fate would determine that the time was right.

It ended up being on an a day that was overcast, when the clouds were dark and looming overhead above him. When Illumi stepped out of his hotel to take care of the current job he had been hired for, he did what he had always done and glanced down at his left pinky finger, anticipating that it would be the same as always. But that was the day that the routine was broken as he realized that the thread around his finger was tight for the first time in his life.

When he saw that the thread was finally, finally taut, a surge of anticipation swelled within him.

For whatever reason, the time was now. While it was a mild inconvenience that he couldn't immediately go to his soulmate due to the fact that he was in the middle of a job, it made Illumi quicken his pace as he was eager to get it over quickly. With the large briefcase that the client had instructed that he take with him in hand, Illumi kept his eyes on the thread as made his way to the site where his first target was, watching as the thread grew tighter with each passing step, indicating that he was getting closer to where he would find the one at the other end of the thread.

Illumi expected that he would see them while he was on his way to his job. Perhaps passing by on the street or in a nearby shop. Based on how the thread seemed to be staying still on his soulmate's end, it appeared as though they were staying put. Again, he was spurred forward, a small smile appearing on the assassin's face as he thought of being able to take what was his, to have that connection he had heard spoken of so often from others.

He continued, getting closer and closer to the cafe where his first target was waiting and he still had yet to come across his soulmate. When it got to the point that the cafe was within viewing distance, Illumi began to wonder if they were in that same space as the target. An odd coincidence that his soulmate would be there, but perhaps that was fate playing its hand again. Even if his soulmate saw him with the target, it wouldn't matter. As long as nothing alarming happened between himself and the target in his soulmate's vicinity, it would be of little consequence.

But when he was finally across the street from the cafe and he caught sight of that person he had been waiting for, he froze.

Despite the clouds that had gathered over the heart of the city and their efforts to hide the sky above them, bits of blue and the bright light of the sun managed to break through every now and then. Such was the case when an opening in the clouds appeared just then, allowing forth a thin ray of sunlight that came down and settled on an area with a particular person sitting in the middle of it.

You.

You sat at one of the outdoor tables at the cafe, your index finger trailing across the plastic cup that held your sweet looking drink while the toe of your shoe tapped incessantly on the pavement beneath your seat. The slightly chill air that blew by caused you to shudder slightly, and you glanced behind yourself to look inside the cafe building, as though you were considering moving inside so you could be out of the cold. When you saw that no seats were available, you frowned to yourself and ultimately stayed where you were.

Still in that sunlight and with everything in the surrounding environment pointing to you. And as you sat beneath the spotlight that nature had created for you, Illumi watched intently from the other side of the crosswalk, taking in everything about you and only tearing his gaze away for a few scant seconds to stare down at his own left hand to make sure that what he thought he saw was correct: that the red thread which was attached to his pinky truly connected him to you.

No matter how many times he checked, there was no mistaking it. His eyes that followed the thread always brought him back to you and no one else.

His soulmate.

It should have been a good moment, as it was a moment he had been anticipating for a long time now. When Illumi saw you at last, saw your face for first time after imagining it for so long, it should have been a moment where he felt at peace upon witnessing his other half.

Instead those feelings of anticipation died immediately upon seeing you, and all Illumi felt in that moment was a mild confusion accompanied by immediate concern.

It didn't appear that he was the only one who was concerned.

Despite your attempts to appear casual, it was evident from your expression that you were nervous, and your gaze kept going to a long, thin parcel that sat upright in the seat next to you. From the way you glanced about, it was clear that you were waiting for someone. As if to further prove that point to him, you took another sip of your drink as you glanced at your phone, checking the time before you scanned the area that surrounded you.

It all matched up.

Concern turned into irritation – with whom exactly, Illumi wasn't sure yet. But someone was to blame for this, someone was responsible for this situation that felt like a horrid joke. This wasn't something that should've happened, not to him. Even though he found himself hoping that he was mistaken and the real target was within the cafe building behind you, taking up one of those seats you had wished to occupy, all of it simply matched up too well.

The time was 11:15.

The location was The Nest Cafe.

You were clearly waiting for someone to arrive.

And Illumi was certain that you were waiting for him.

It felt like too much of a coincidence that you would be there for any other reason. Not at this time and with that parcel in the seat next to you, not with the way you looked at the other people in the vicinity, subtly glancing up at those who walked by close to your table in anticipation of any one of them approaching you. And if that wasn't enough, your appearance matched with who he was told would be there waiting for him to perform the exchange.

Everything pointed to you being the one he needed to meet for his job. If that truly was the case, then that meant you were his target.

One of the those he had been hired to kill.

The assassin stared at you as his mind began to race. The disbelief of how such a thing could happen, how this much of a coincidence could occur consumed him. How you had landed yourself on the radar of Edgar Farley and how you had angered him to such a degree that he decided to spend extra for Illumi to torture you and your accomplices extensively before your existence was snuffed out.

Of all the things that could have happened, how in the world had he ended up taking on a job that required him to kill his own soulmate?

Illumi didn't notice that his grip had tightened too much on the handle of the briefcase until he heard it crack, and that sound was enough to snap him out of his all consuming thoughts. He needed to continue, he reminded himself. As a Zoldyck, he needed to complete the job for the name of his family, regardless of the unforeseen circumstances which involved you.

Of course, he wasn't going to kill you, which would mean he would need to come up with some sort of solution for the sixth body Farley was demanding.

Illumi let out a small, barely audible sigh as he gathered himself up internally.

He would figure it out. There was surely a solution that would allow him to have you and complete the job without any fuss. He had no doubts on that.

But for now, his focus needed to be on getting you somewhere out of sight.

With that, Illumi waited for the light at the crosswalk, and once it turned green, he began to make his way towards you, once more keeping his eyes on you and the thread as it grew shorter and shorter.

You noticed him quickly after he had crossed the street, and when you realized that he was staring straight at you, you turned your full attention to him, straightening yourself up in your seat when you saw that he was approaching you. When he stopped in front of you, it took you a moment before you spoke as you glanced down at the briefcase he held. Illumi saw the way your pulse quickened as the gears began to turn in your head, as you came to the assumption that he was the one you were waiting for.

Illumi spoke first, calling out your name in a questioning tone.

You nodded cautiously.

“Are you, uh-”

You faltered in the middle of your sentence, seemingly taken aback by the way he was looking at you.

Was the way he was staring at you that strange?

Regaining your voice, you tried again with “you're here for the…. Uh, the thing, right?”

…… That was how you were describing this?

“Yes,” he answered.

“Ah. Okay then.”

You got up from your seat, but then stopped as you looked down at your cup.

“Did… Did you want a drink, too?” you asked.

Illumi shook his head.

“I'd rather we head off.”

“Okay. That also works.”

You took one long, last sip before tossing the cup into the appropriate receptacle before hurrying back to the table to grab the parcel, tucking it beneath your arm as you looked back at him.

“The hotel is down that way. It isn't too long of a walk. A little bit less than seven minutes,” you told him.

Illumi nodded silently, then followed once you began to make your way down the sidewalk. Keeping his eyes on you, he found that while you were once again trying to hide it, you were clearly nervous. There was a jitteriness to your step, and your fingers kept playing with one of the edges of the parcel, slowly picking at it more and more with every moment that passed as you made the walk to the hotel.

You then stiffened as though a sudden thought had struck you, and you turned your head while you walked as you asked “sorry, I should've said something beforehand about us walking. It's not an issue, right? If it is, I can get us a taxi.”

“It's not an issue,” Illumi calmly replied.

“Oh, okay then. That's good.”

Your free hand then went up to nervously scratch at the back of your neck and you let out a shaky exhale that you must have thought he wouldn't be able to catch.

Why were you doing this if it made you so nervous?

It appeared that just being involved in this situation that was causing your distress. Perhaps you actually recognized how awful this plan was; the group you were part of appeared to be a foolish lot, with none of you seeming to truly know what you were doing. Illumi hoped you weren't the ringleader, as this get rich quick scheme was already pathetic, and he found himself disappointed that you were participating in it. He'd be even more disappointed if he knew you were the one to come up with it.

At least once he was done here, he wouldn't need to worry about you being able to do anything too foolish. The leash he would keep on you would be too tight for that.

You glanced over at him again, and he grew concerned when he saw your eyes furrow in worry upon meeting his gaze again.

Were you perceptive enough to realize that something was wrong?

That turned out to be unlikely, as when an elderly man who stood a few steps in front of you sneezed unexpectedly, you jumped, and the parcel nearly dropped from your hands. No, it didn't seem likely that you were aware of anything amiss; you were simply nervous about the situation as a whole.

Illumi frowned slightly as he watched you. Your nervousness was only an additional negative in this situation. Your lack of nen meant it would be harder for you to understand the connection, and if you weren't relaxed, you were guaranteed to not feel it in a timely manner.

As much as he hated to admit it, Illumi doubted that he would be able to ease your nerves and get you to trust him, and especially not in such a short time.

There was no choice but to take you by force. While that would cause issues that would be detrimental to the connection opening for you, it was better to go through with that. The time it would take for you to accept him would be longer, but that was the safest option he had.

The silence stretched over the two of you, though it didn't seem to do much to assuage your nervousness. As Illumi continued to follow you, his gaze once again went to the parcel being carried beneath your arm. That was the item that had been the source of this entire conflict, that the client desperately wanted back. Why Farley was willing to have him kill over a piece of art, Illumi couldn't fathom, though his own opinion hardly mattered in this instance.

But as he looked at the parcel, he found that something about it felt…. Off. From what he was told about the art he was to retrieve, the dimensions of what you carried didn't seem to match up with what had been described to him. He turned his gaze back to you, boring into the back of your skull as he grew suspicious over what exactly you were carrying. Things definitely didn't need to be complicated by you not having the painting in question.

He'd find out what was going on soon enough, he supposed.

The first bit of relief within you was seen when your shoulders loosened slightly as you looked beyond the path in front of you and caught sight of a hotel. While it was better than the average cesspit hotel with clientele that consisted of drug users and married spouses in the middle of an affair, the hotel was also considerably cheaper than the place Illumi had checked out of this morning. As he followed you in through the front doors, the assassin glanced about at the lobby. There were a fair amount of people milling around, all of whom seemed to be there from out of town for some kind of sporting event. No one bothered to even glance in your direction or his when you made a turn to the left and began to lead him down a hallway on the first floor.

Again, he wordlessly followed you as you made your way to a nearby stairway, and when you looked back at him again, you asked “are you cool if we take the stairs? With all those people around, I figure it's best that we avoid them if we can.”

“I have no issue with that,” he answered. As he followed you into the stairway, he spoke again, his voice echoing slightly against the barren walls as he asked “but why are you worried about people seeing us?”

“Ah, just…. You know. If we're stuck in a small space like an elevator, then people are more likely to take note of us. See us up close, and possibly say something to the police about us if something happens,” you said.

Illumi's eyes narrowed as he asked “are you expecting something to go wrong with the exchange?”

“N-no.”

“Then why the worry?”

“Just….. Just to be safe. Just in case,” you answered, “better to err on the side of caution, right? Neither of us want to be seen with something stolen, right?”

“I suppose.”

It was more than likely for the best that you were going out of your way to avoid the other guests at the hotel. Despite how you had seemed to calm down some once you arrived here, it seemed as though his questioning had made your nerves shoot up again, and he didn't need you drawing attention to the both of you in such a way.

The way you became nervous so easily was likely going to be a tough issue for him to tackle, however. After all, you would become an assassin like him once the two of you were married, and the fact that he could easily see you freezing up in the middle of a job didn't bode well.

That would need to be trained out of you.

But he was getting ahead of himself. After all, he needed to solve this current set of issues with you before he could consider your training. And at the moment, he felt as though a big issue was quickly being taken care of. With every step he took as he followed you up the several flights of stairs, the he was getting closer to having you alone in a controlled space. That in and of itself was enough to give him a slight sense of relief.

It seemed as though you were of the same opinion, as once you made it to the hotel room in question and entered after Illumi had, you were quick to shut the door and flip the lock, breathing in deep before letting all out in a shaky sigh.

That time he chose to make a comment.

“You don't seem well,” he said.

You startled slightly, your eyes growing wide before you tried explain it away.

“I don't?” you asked, “I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, so maybe that's why. Sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Illumi asked.

Once again, you seemed surprised at the question.

“Force of habit, I guess,” you eventually got out.

Stepping by him, you moved towards the center of the room, where a small couch and coffee table were sitting in front of the single bed. An item sitting atop the table caught his attention: one of those portable money counting machines. The transaction would be taking place there, then.

After placing the parcel on the far end of the couch, you turned to him after and you clapped your hands together in a clear attempt to change the topic, forcing yourself to smile at him as you did so as if to convince him that everything was fine. Perhaps it was a way to convince yourself as well.

“So, um,” you began, “I guess I'll start with counting the money.”

Hearing that surprised him a little.

“I don't get to see the painting first?” Illumi asked.

“Um….”

You seemed caught off-guard by that question, and you stammered for a few moments, glancing back at the parcel briefly as you tried to come up with a response. In the middle of that, you oddly took the time to look at the door of the closet that stood behind him, your gaze flitting over to it briefly before you looked at him and cleared your throat.

“Uh, I think I should count the money first,” you told him, “just to, you know, be safe.”

“You think I'm going to scam you?”

“N-no. But it's a lot of money, and we're – I'm taking a lot of risks here.”

Your gaze grew a bit more grim as you added “plus, I heard that the previous owner was something of a psychopath, so I really want to be careful, you know?”

Then why steal from him if you're worried about him retaliating?

As reasonable as it would have been to ask that, Illumi held his tongue.

“Plus, like, even if the painting was fake and I did try to grab the money and run, I don't think I'd get far, you know?” you continued.

“What makes you think that?”

“You look like you could catch me easily. So I think running would be really dumb on my part.”

After a brief pause, you then admitted “the way you've been staring at me has also been intense and you're kind of scary, so I really don't want to make you mad at me.”

Illumi blinked.

“I'm scary?” he repeated.

You blanched, as if you hadn't realized what exactly you had said until he had repeated it. Your panic began to grow again as you started to apologize.

“I'm sorry, that was really rude of me! I didn't mean to say that,” you insisted, “I just meant to say….. Meant to say that I'm not going to try anything shady. That I wouldn't do that to anyone, and definitely not you. I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to offend you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you continued “I was told that I needed to count the jenny first, so I'm just trying to do what I was told, you know?”

“….. I see.”

From the way you reacted to his response, it seemed as though you determined that you had said something wrong, as you were quick to then tell him “sorry, I'm not trying to make things difficult. I get why you need to be cautious, because you don't know me and eight billion is a lot to be handing off to a stranger. But I promise, as soon as I'm done I'll let you confirm that it's the real thing.”

There was a hint of desperation in your gaze as you then asked “does…. Does that sound good?”

Ending the charade now would have been prudent. If he did that, he would save himself some time, get the job over with quicker so he could focus fully on you. Knocking you out and calling up the butler that was waiting on standby for him to take you away while he figured out a replacement for you would be the best way to move forward.

But he still wasn't sure what was going on with the painting and he didn't want to sour your opinion of him by torturing you on your first meeting.

So instead, Illumi nodded.

“I understand,” he told you, “I'll wait, then.”

Though it was tinged with nervousness, the smile you gave him was one of genuine relief.

“Thank you,” you said.

Illumi said nothing, but he felt an odd sensation in his heart upon seeing you smile.

Keeping his face as that same blank mask he almost always wore, he settled down onto the chair that sat opposite of the couch. You sat as well, taking the briefcase that he had offered you and setting it on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes widened slightly when you opened it, as you likely had never seen that much jenny before in your life.

As you began to count, Illumi thought of what you had said moments ago, the things you had said about him. And as if somehow sensing what he was thinking, you looked up at him again, your eyebrows pinching in worry as you spoke up.

“I really am sorry for what I said, if it offended you,” you reiterated.

“It's fine. It doesn't matter,” he answered.

That was a lie. It mattered a lot. Especially upon realizing that his soulmate was unsettled by him to the point that they viewed him to be scary, of all things. But as he recalled the lovely expression that had been on your face when you had thanked him moments earlier, he decided that he could forgive you.

So again he held his tongue and merely observed you after the two of you had taken your seats, and he watched as you pulled out a notebook and a pen before gathering a stack of jenny and placing it into the money counter after. Shortly after, the silence in the room was broken by the sound of the rustling paper as the jenny was put through the machine and the small screen at the front displayed the total that quickly shot up as more of the money went through. Soon enough that particular stack was done, and you jotted down the number on the screen before setting the stack aside and grabbing another from the briefcase, repeating the process again.

The two of you would be here for a while.

As much as Illumi wished to have used this time to speak with you, it was clear that you wouldn't be receptive to it. You saw this as a business transaction. Any personal questions coming from him would likely only earn him more worried looks and apologies as you desperately tried not to offend him. So he sat in silence while he watched, keeping his eyes on you as you continued the monotonous task.

At the beginning you would glance up at him periodically, only to quickly avert your gaze when you saw him looking at you. Eventually you stopped doing that, and it seemed as though you were making a point to keep your focus only on your notebook, the money counter and the contents of the briefcase.

What exactly makes me so scary?

That question would need to wait until later, as much as that fact irked him.

With little else to do, Illumi glanced again at the parcel. Again, the dimensions didn't seem right to him. And as he remembered the way you had glanced over at the closet, a possible explanation began to form in his mind, but it was one he would likely need to wait for until you had finished what you were doing.

Now that his mind was again on the task at hand, he asked “how exactly did you come upon this piece?”

Tensing at the sound of his voice, you glanced up at him and then immediately averted your gaze.

“Um, I don't think I'm supposed to say anything about that. All that matters is that it's real, right?” you asked in reply.

“We're talking about a stolen art piece. We're both 'taking risks' for this, as you put it. I think I'm entitled to know how you got ahold of this,” he answered.

Your shoulders sank slightly as you appeared to concede.

“We, uh, we heard it was just sitting in storage, that no one had checked in on it in a while. So my roommate figured we could take it and no one would notice,” you quietly explained.

“It seems like he was right because it hasn't been reported missing yet,” you added.

“Your roommate?” Illumi repeated.

You froze. And then you seemed disappointed with yourself as you were forced to admit “my roommate knows a guy who works at that museum where it was stored.”

“Why aren't they here?”

“He's the one who thought of this and got everything set up. The other guys were the ones who took the painting. So this is the part I need to do.”

You quickly looked back to the money counter, once again scribbling down the number listed on the screen.

The more he learned, the more Illumi was convinced that whomever had been the mastermind of this plan – your roommate, evidently – they hadn't thought through it very well. As was usually the case for the theft of fine art. If the thief didn't have a buyer lined up beforehand, they typically had a hard time selling it off for any sort of profit. While exceptions for that rule existed, such as the Phantom Troupe whose notoriety had fans of theirs wanting to buy items that had been in their possession, a small group of first time criminals were never going to achieve such success. This entire interaction had been set up so you and others who thought about stealing from his client would learn a lesson. It was always going to end badly for your group.

The one thing Illumi could be thankful for was the fact that he had been selected to carry out the hit. It allowed him the control he needed to navigate the situation and guide it to an ending where the client was satisfied and you were still alive.

When the process of counting the eight billion finally ended and you confirmed that what was given to you was the correct amount, you shut the notebook, placed the jenny back within the briefcase and then looked to him, saying “everything looks good. I'll show you the painting now.”

Instead of handing him the parcel, you stood up and walked over to the closet that stood in front of the door, sliding it open before you reached inside. When you pulled your hand back out, you were holding another parcel.

He caught on immediately as he asked “is that the real painting?”

You looked back to him, and then nodded.

“Yeah. The one on the couch is a decoy,” you explained, “just in case.”

“Just in case?” he repeated.

“In case you thought it'd be better to take it from me when we were outside,” you said, “I figured since I'm not really intimidating at all, a potential buyer might think of stealing it and leave us with nothing, so I put the real one in here beforehand.”

When he didn't respond to that, your fingers tensed on the edge of the new parcel, looking away as you mumbled “I thought it was a good idea.”

“It certainly shows that you exercised more caution than I gave you credit for,” Illumi said.

“Thank – thank you?” you replied, uncertain if you should take his words to be insulting or not. Regardless of that, you stepped forward as you approached the coffee table once again, holding the parcel out to him to take.

You sat back down on the couch after, watching him as he undid the piece of twine that held the brown paper wrapped around the painting. You were eager to get this over with, as your hand was seated next to the handle of the briefcase, twitching every now and then as if you wanted to grab it and leave. In your mind, this ordeal was almost over, and you would soon be able to return home to your cohorts with your ill-gotten gains.

His attention was brought to the painting as he unwrapped it fully and pulled it up to inspect that it was the genuine article.

The painting was moderately sized and featured a scene that could likely be found on the cover of an average historical romance novel. At the center of the piece was a maiden upon a balcony, having just swung her legs over the railing as she sat atop it with her ankles peeking out beneath the skirt of her dress. A short distance beneath her was a knight upon his horse, reaching out to her as if beckoning her to take the leap, an assurance her that he would catch her. And in the background that featured a room that led to that balcony, a door had been forced open, with several men charging in, no doubt with the intent of grabbing the maiden before she could flee with her knight lover.

While the art of the painting was detailed and could be considered beautiful, and the piece certainly told a story, Illumi couldn't fathom how and why such a silly painting managed to cause so much trouble, much less why the owner was so incensed at it's theft that he was willing to pay so much for it's return. And if it had been that precious to him, why had Farley left it in that museum in the first place?

You leaned forward in your seat, scanning for any hint of change in his expression as he looked it over.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“It's acceptable.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You're spending eight billion and you just find it 'acceptable'?” you asked.

“All I care is that it's the genuine article,” he told you.

“Oh. Okay then.”

With a note of finality in your voice, you straightened up in your seat, your hand once more grasping the handle of the case as you said “so if you're satisfied, then we're done here, right? Transaction closed?”

Illumi nodded slowly.

“Yes, I suppose that's correct.”

“Okay then. Do you want to leave first, or should I? I'm fine if you want to go first, but I'm not sure how much time I should wait before leaving myself.”

“You aren't leaving,” he told you.

“…..”

The silence stretched out through the entirety of the room as you stared at him, your nerves slowly but steadily growing once again as you looked at him in confusion.

“But I need to take this back….?” you questioned.

“That isn't happening.”

“W-why?”

“Because I'm an assassin and I've been hired to kill you,” Illumi said, “therefore, I cannot allow you to leave this room with that case.”

You stared at him silently, your eyes widening in shock as his words sunk in. Your gaze went down to the floor as you began breathing heavily and you began to tremble. You accepted it. No questions about what he was talking about or if he was trying to joke around – you could tell he was serious.

Illumi was ready for you to do something in response. A normal reaction would likely be to run from him, either to escape out the door or the window. Both had their own pros and cons, though if it was Illumi in this situation, he would likely choose the window. Whether or not you would do the same remained to be seen. Though it was possible that you might choose to fight back, not that you would be able to do much against him. He had trained for as long as he had remembered, so no matter how strong you may potentially be, there was little chance that a civilian like yourself would be able to overpower him. The best you would be able to do would be to throw items in the room at him, and that would still be next to nothing.

He was overthinking things, because as he looked at you, he didn't see any ounce of fight in you. You were still gazing down at the floor, and while your breathing had slowed slightly, you were still in distress. If he were to guess, this must have been a worst case scenario for you, one that either the members of your group or you yourself had said couldn't possibly happen, that your luck wouldn't ever be so bad.

You even said that the client was a psychopath, so why you thought this wouldn't happen was still a mystery to him. At least he would make sure you wouldn't be making such terrible decisions in the future.

Illumi waited for you to act, already mapping out in his head what he would do in response to whatever you chose.

He waited.

And waited.

And Illumi felt confusion growing within him once more as you didn't act.

You weren't running.

Time was ticking by, and you stayed on that spot on the couch, only moving to slump backwards against the seat. Instead of attempting to save yourself from a man who just told you that he was an assassin, you stayed still, refusing to move at all. The exact opposite of running.

Illumi's brows furrowed as he asked “why aren't you running?”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his question.

“Why?” you repeated, “I guess…. I mean, what's the point? I'm in a room with you that has only one exit, and I'm pretty sure you'll catch me if I run. Actually, we had a conversation about that just a few minutes ago, didn't we? And you seemed to agree with me. So why should I bother making things worse for myself by running?”

He frowned, not liking the way you had given up so easily and accepted your fate.

“You won't even try to fight back?” he asked.

“Again, what's the point? I can tell just by looking that you're stronger than me. I don't wanna get into a fight that I know I'll lose,” you said.

Illumi blinked when you said that, hearing one of his own lessons that he had ingrained into his younger siblings coming from your lips catching him off guard momentarily. Despite not even knowing of him before this day, you already knew one of the lessons he had intended to teach you.

Within an instant, Illumi felt a bit more hopeful for you. While you seeming to accept your death was far from ideal, he was certain that he could make you unlearn that response.

You were his soulmate, after all. Teaching you would be easy.

“You do have a good point – I am stronger than you. As you are right now, you could never defeat me,” he told you.

You didn't react to his statement, instead continuing to stare down at the floor dejectedly.

“But it isn't good that you're giving up so easily. In the future, if you find yourself in this position again, you should find an escape route and remove yourself from the situation.”

At that, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him strangely.

“In the future?” you repeated, “what future? You said you were going to kill me.”

“I said that I was hired to kill you,” Illumi stated, “but that doesn't mean I'm going through with it.”

And with that, there was a bit of hope in your eyes, a bit of life breathed back into you as you straightened up, now watching and waiting intently for his every word as you now believed that there was a way out of this. Of course, there was, but it wouldn't be in the way you expected.

You gulped before you asked “you…. You're going to let me go?”

“No.”

Your shoulders sank again as Illumi continued with “I'm not killing you, but I also can't let you go. If I did that my client would find out and that would cause issues for myself and my family.”

“So then…. Then what? What happens to me? Why are you sparing me?” you asked.

“I need you alive,” he said.

“Why?”

“I'll explain that later.”

“Why?” you asked again, your voice growing a bit more fearful.

“Because I have no time to discuss it now,” he said plainly.

With that, he stood up and closed the distance between the two of you. You still didn't move when he approached, not even to scoot away to the other side of the couch. You simply sat there, cowering and fearful as you stared up at him.

“You said it was your roommate who put you up to this, correct?” he asked.

At that your eyes widened slightly before you frowned, only now realizing your slip up in having mentioned that fact.

“…. I shouldn't have said that, should I?” you asked.

Illumi nodded at you.

“In any other situation, that would have been a poor choice on your part,” he told you, “but it doesn't really matter all that much now. Your name as well as the others was already given to me. I was just made to go along with this so I could recover the painting.”

The assassin grabbed at your bag, opening it and rummaging through until he found your wallet. Shortly after he had your ID in hand, and he read the address that had been printed on the card.

“Is your roommate home right now?” he asked, not looking away from the card as he did so.

“….. I think so.”

“Will the others from your group be there?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I see.”

Illumi pocketed the card before looking back to you.

“… If I told you to trust me, I'd be demanding too much from you, wouldn't I?” he asked.

“…. A little bit, yeah,” you admitted.

Nodding at your answer, Illumi said to you “I appreciate you being honest with me.”

Then the assassin stood back up -

And with a quick strike of his hand at the back of your neck, you fell over on the couch as you were knocked unconscious.

Without missing a beat, Illumi pulled his cellphone from his pocket and went about dialing the number for the butler who was meant to pick him up once this part of the job was finished with. As expected, the call was picked up before the first ring had finished.

“I need you to come to the back of the Arcadia Hotel,” Illumi told the butler, not bothering with any sort of greeting or an explanation.

“Understood, Master Illumi. I'll be there within ten minutes,” they answered.

The call ended just as quickly as it had started, and Illumi looked back to you. Even in unconsciousness, you still appeared to be in distress as your brows were furrowed and you were frowning. Not even sleep could relieve you of your worries, and as he stared at you, Illumi felt an odd bit of anger rising in his chest. You were unprepared for such tasks like this one, yet those people – your roommate and whoever else was involved – had pushed you to do this regardless. They had been so irresponsible and careless that you had ended up on a hit list, and had it not been for Farley going to him specifically, someone else would have killed you.

You would have died easily had it not been for the strange coincidence of him being the one to take the job.

The thought of you dying made his anger worse, and for a brief moment, that rage seeped out, quickly filling the small space of the room and making the lights flicker from the force of it.

You didn't remain unaffected by it, either, as when you were hit with with the force of his anger, you shuddered in your sleep.

Within an instant, that anger petered out.

And without thinking, Illumi moved, hoisting you up into his arms and then settling back down onto the couch with you in his embrace. Your cheek rested against his chest while your pliant body molded against his in a comfortable fashion. An idle thought came to mind – with where your head was resting, were you able to hear his heartbeat that was next to your ear? Would you be able to tell such a thing as you were now?

That seemed to have broken Illumi out of his stupor as he blinked once again. Now truly taking in the sight of you on his lap, he realized he had acted on impulse, not really thinking about his actions when he had pulled you into his grasp. It felt strange. Physical acts like this one – to hold someone to himself – were not actions he was used to. Everyone within his family were inclined to keep physical contact to a minimum, and outside of his family, there was no one that he would allow to touch him, not without them paying for it after.

But with you, it had come naturally and with no hesitation on his part. One look at your face had driven him to hold you, as if to ease your distress while you slept. Such things that he was feeling for someone he hadn't even known an hour, and all because of a thread that you couldn't even see.

Illumi's hand went up to stroke your hair, his fingers trailing gingerly through the strands as he quietly murmured to himself “the soulmate bond is a strange thing indeed.”

Strange, that it would drive him to do something he had never once been inclined to do.

But at the same time, it felt good.

He stayed like that with you, holding you and caressing you gently. While the time passed by peacefully, the gloomy clouds that could still be seen outside the hotel room window parted, allowing the sun to filter in with a warm glow.

When Illumi's cellphone rang, it caught him off-guard. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he found himself surprised when he saw that the aforementioned ten minutes had passed, and the butler was no doubt calling him to inform him that he had arrived.

Had the time truly passed so quickly?

His mouth set in a small frown as he lifted you back into his arms, adjusting you before he stood up and carried you out of the room.

Under normal circumstances, the butler wouldn't have needed to call for him for any reason. Any other time, Illumi would have been waiting at the aforementioned spot long before his ride would have arrived. That he had gotten so distracted simply from holding you was somewhat worrying, and he hoped this sudden distracted attitude was a one-time thing due to him finding you.

The butler he had called for was standing at the ready when Illumi walked out through the employee only door of the hotel, and they bowed respectfully when they saw him. Their gaze narrowed ever so slightly when they saw you unconscious in his arms, but they said nothing, waiting for their master to speak first.

Illumi did just that once he had reached them, stopping before them to ask “what is my schedule for the next few days?”

“During the time you spent with the target, another request came in for your services, Master Illumi,” the butler said, “two days from now, in the Kakin Empire.”

“Give it to Milluki; I'm sure whatever it is, he can handle it,” Illumi told them.

“And if Master Milluki is not available…?”

“He's always available. He never leaves home unless someone makes him.”

The butler nodded and listened intently as the assassin continued “don't bring me any assignments for the next few days. I need my schedule completely clear.”

“For this person, Master Illumi?” the butler asked as they once more looked at your unconscious form.

Illumi stared back to them intently as he said “this is my soulmate. You'll show them respect.”

At that, the butler immediately understood, bowing their head as they answered “of course, Master Illumi. My apologies.”

“You'll look after them while I complete my current job,” Illumi said, “should they wake up before I return, you will tend to their needs while keeping them safe.”

“Of course, Master Illumi.”

The butler then moved to take you from Illumi's arms, but stopped when he gave them a long, hard stare.

“Open the door,” the assassin ordered.

Moving quickly, the butler did just that, opening the back door and holding it wide for him. Illumi then carried you into the car's interior and set you down onto one of the long seats, handling you gently as he did so. As he pulled back and began to step out of the vehicle, he found that he was remiss to leave you. But as he still had a job to complete, there was nothing to be done about it.

After exiting the car, he waited for the butler to close the door before turning to them one last time.

“Don't speak of the discovery of my soulmate to anyone,” he ordered, “I will let my family know in my own time.”

One last time, the butler nodded in understanding, and they waited until Illumi began to leave the area before they took their place back in the driver's seat and drove off. Illumi couldn't help but take one glance behind himself as you were driven away. Despite knowing that with the way you were laid out on the backseat and that he wouldn't be able to see you, something still caused his head to turn as he watched the car move further away, as he watched the thread from within the vehicle become more slack with every bit of distance put between the two of you.

When he returned to the hotel room to grab the painting was when he realized another mistake, an oversight on his part. Illumi froze after he entered, catching sight of something on the couch where the both of you had been sitting not so long ago:

The briefcase.

With the eight billion jenny.

The jenny that had been Farley's payment for the job, that he had intended to give to that butler so he didn't need to drag it with him when he killed the other targets. Yet it remained on the couch.

Illumi had been so concerned with getting you to safety, he had managed to forget it completely.

Pursing his lips, a small scowl made its way onto his face as he stepped forward, determining that he had no choice and that he would need to take both the briefcase and the painting when he went to the apartment where your roommate was. It was obnoxious, but he wasn't going to call back the butler.

Admitting that he had forgotten something would be far too embarrassing.

The car was driving along a lonely stretch of the two lane highway while the sun slowly descended to the earth, casting the sky in golden colors as it sank lower and lower. It had been a while now since they had left the boundaries of the city, and there was still some time before they would reach the intended destination. But with a freshly filled gas tank and a driver who was more than capable of withstanding the hours of driving that were left on the journey, Illumi doubted that there would be any delays from this point. They would arrive at one of the Zoldyck's many homes in due time, and then Illumi could get to know you.

He was currently staring at you, just as he had been at the start of the journey. After the hit job that took longer than expected to complete due to his targets being spread out and the added stress of finding someone to act as a replacement for you – all taken care of with a single needle and the disfigurement to the heads – Illumi had been eager to see you again. Though there had been a slight disappointment on his end when he entered the car and saw that you were still unconscious, he quickly overcame that when he took advantage of your current state in order to place you so that your head rested on his lap.

Just like in the hotel room earlier, it wasn't an action that he was accustomed to – he had never considered doing something like that for someone before this – but with you, it felt right. Natural.

And as he lightly brushed his knuckles against your cheek while you slept soundly under his watch, he found that he felt content. After years of waiting, of fruitlessly searching, he finally found you. Not under the best circumstances, that was for certain, but seeing how things had ultimately turned out, it was all worth the wait.

Though there did remain the matter of your reaction once you had awoken and how you would receive him once he told you the truth.

A small frown once more graced his lips. Teaching you nen and showing you that way would be the best way to prove it to you, though it would take some time. While he had no issue spending that time, he felt another pang of disappointment hit him. He liked you as you were now; pliant and accepting of his touch, as more than once when he had stroked you, you had leaned into him, subconsciously seeking him out. It felt nice, an acknowledgment of the connection that some deeper part of you surely recognized. That you would likely be resistant to him once you were awake was a shame, but one that was unlikely to be avoided.

Learning about you wouldn't come about quickly, he feared. It would take time to tear down the walls you would no doubt build around yourself. So getting to know what you were really like, the areas in which the two of you were similar and the ways in which you differed, and the way that he hoped that you would be loving with him, as was so often spoken of, all of that would only come in time.

With that in mind, Illumi was making an effort to cherish this moment on the journey, when he could caress you all he wanted without you making a fuss.

But not long after, it seemed as though that moment was coming to an end.

He noted when you began to stir awake, your eyebrows furrowing and your mouth turning into a frown as your consciousness slowly but surely returned to you. With your head still resting on his lap, Illumi watched you intently, keeping his hand on your hair. The reaction you would have when you woke up was bound to be a bad one. You would likely remember most of what had happened before he had knocked you out and you would respond with that same fear as before once you saw that you were laying in the confines of such a small space with a man who had told you he'd been hired to kill you.

Illumi anticipated how you might lash out at him, perhaps attack him if you thought you might be able to catch him off guard. Although, based on the way you had reacted back at the hotel room, it wasn't hard to imagine that you might beg him to let you go, perhaps even cry while doing so.

The mental image of you with tears in your eyes had a bad taste form at the back of Illumi's mouth as he found that the thought displeased him.

…. Hm. Just from the thought alone?

His eyes went back to the thread that connected him to you, and once more he felt a small amount of amazement at how powerful the connection was already. But with you not knowing nen, how long would it take for you to sense it?

The fluttering of your eyelids had Illumi's gaze snapping back to your face, and once more he watched intently as you were now waking up.

The look he could see in your eyes when they first opened was best described as being dazed. For a few moments, you were looking around the interior of the car, but sleep still had some hold on your mind as there was no reaction from you as you did so. Not until your gaze drifted upwards and you caught sight of Illumi looming over you. And even then it took a few moments of you gazing at him before your mind truly became awake.

Illumi watched as the dazed look in your eyes dissipated, the sleepiness being replaced with wide eyed shock and horror as you remembered him, your once slack jaw tightening and the breath now coming out of you harsh and fast through your nose, betraying your utter panic. You had your full attention on the assassin, staring up at him and not daring to move, even when you realized just where he had chosen to place your head during the time you were unconscious.

He didn't like the way you looked at him, but Illumi supposed that he shouldn't blame you too much for that reaction. He also supposed that he would need to be the one to start a dialogue between the two of you, as you seemed too terrified to speak.

Yet you managed to do something unexpected.

With your voice croaking out of your throat and your lips barely moving, you managed to get out a single “hi.”

Illumi blinked in surprise, but then chose to copy you as he responded with a similar “hello.”

He stayed quiet after, giving you the opportunity to speak on your own again.

You did just that. After your gaze went back to your surroundings, you looked him in the eyes again as you mumbled out “we're in a car.”

“We are,” Illumi agreed.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Why else would we be in a car?”

“Ah, right. Sorry. That was a stupid question.”

You were having an easier time speaking, though the wild look of panic in your eyes had yet to go away.

“Can I…. Can I ask where we're going?” you then said, your gaze now on what little you could see through the tinted windows.

“Somewhere safe.”

“…. Safe for who?”

“Safe for us both.”

You blinked.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

Illumi raised an eyebrow as he replied “I should think you would understand what that means. I don't believe I've said anything confusing.”

“I mean, well……”

You glanced away again before saying “it just feels like you're being a little vague with what you're saying. Plus, you could be lying to me.”

Illumi cocked his head as he asked “why do you think I'm lying?”

“You weren't being very truthful earlier,” you reluctantly answered.

He frowned at that.

“You're saying that I lied to you?” he asked.

You nodded.

“When did I lie?”

“With the whole exchange,” you mumbled, “you were pretending to be a buyer.”

“I never claimed to be. You only asked if I was there for 'the thing',” he pointed out.

“But you're an assassin.”

“I never said that I wasn't.”

“You lied by omission.”

Illumi's eyebrows raised slightly.

“Not mentioning something counts as lying?”

“….. Yeah.”

That answer had come out more mumbled, as though you weren't willing to admit that he was right.

It was rather cute, but commenting on that fact was unlikely to be received well in that moment.

As you had quieted down, he took the opportunity to speak as he said “regardless of if I was lying or not earlier, I'm telling the truth when I say that I intend to keep both of us safe. I hope you believe me on that. It's the least you could do after the trouble you've caused for me today.”

You looked up at him in confusion as you repeated “trouble?”

Illumi nodded, repeating the word “trouble. With you getting on that hit list, you put me in an awkward situation.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.”

You hadn't relaxed much since waking up, but it seemed to be a good sign that your voice wasn't shaking quite as much anymore.

“I never imagined I'd manage to fuck up badly enough to make things difficult for an assassin,” you added.

Under normal circumstances, Illumi would have considered such a reaction – such words – to be odd, especially coming from someone who knew that he had been hired to kill them. But as he thought on it more, perhaps it wasn't so strange. You were his soulmate, and while you had spent the majority of the car ride unconscious, perhaps the physical contact made with him keeping your head on his lap had been enough to awaken the connection subconsciously.

To test that, Illumi reached a hand towards your cheek, eager to see what your reaction would be. When you did nothing other than stare at his palm before it made contact with your skin, he felt as though he was proven correct. When he began to softly stroke your cheek and he felt you stiffen slightly before relaxing in his touch, the assassin couldn't help but smile.

This was going even better than he hoped.

Finally responding to your last statement, Illumi told you “it's alright. Everything managed to work work out regardless.”

“That's good, I guess.”

You gulped before taking in another breath, and then you spoke up again.

“Not that your lap isn't….. Comfortable, but are you okay if I sit up? Continuing the conversation like this feels awkward,” you said.

Despite not wanting to grant that request after enjoying the time he'd had with you in that position, Illumi pulled his arms away and leaned back slightly as he answered “of course.”

That you sat up immediately and scooted just a few inches away was again displeasing to Illumi, but he told himself that it was good that was all you were doing. That you were being so reasonable was a very good thing for himself, as well as for you.

Looking about the car once more, this time while sitting up, your gaze lingered briefly on the butler in the front seat, as though you hadn't noticed them before. Whatever you made of their presence was unknown as you tore your gaze away to look again at Illumi.

“Can I ask more questions or do you want me to shut up?” you asked.

“You may ask as many questions as you like,” Illumi told you, “I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“Ah. Okay. Um…”

Your fingers played with the hem of your shirt while you formulated your question, something Illumi found his gaze drawn to. He remembered the way in which you had toyed with the paper of the decoy parcel, and it seemed to him that you had a habit of fidgeting whenever you were nervous.

“You said…. You said you were hired to kill me, right?” you asked.

Illumi nodded.

“And you…. Didn't?”

“You're alive right now, aren't you?”

“I mean, I think so,” you said, “this would be one weird afterlife to end up in.”

“I just – I don't want to sound ungrateful,” you added, “but I have to admit that I'm really confused about why I'm still alive. I really thought I was going to die earlier – you said you'd been hired you to kill me, so I don't get why you didn't go through with that.”

“It's because I can't kill you,” Illumi answered.

You picked up on his choice of wording as you repeated “Can't? Not 'won't'?”

“Exactly. I can't.”

“Why?”

Without wasting a breath, Illumi said “because we're soulmates.”

Upon hearing that response, you didn't reply. You stared up at him blankly, blinking every now and then as though you were still processing his words. Seconds ticked by as you stayed like that, and Illumi stayed quiet in turn. As he had been telling himself before, he should anticipate a reaction of disbelief from you. Based on your current temperament, you likely wouldn't lash out, though if you were to do so, it would be from desperation and panic.

“Soulmates?” you repeated, “is that similar to love at first sight or something? You saw me and felt I was the one?”

“No. When I say we're soulmates, I mean that the two of us are literally soulmates.”

Illumi lifted up his left hand as he told you “there's a thread that spans the space between the both of us, that connects the two of us together. We're meant to be with one another.”

You looked to his hand and then to your own.

“I'm…. I'm not sure I see a thread,” you said.

“That's because you aren't able to yet, but it's there.”

“…… Oh.”

Illumi blinked at your lackluster reaction, wondering if that really was all you had to say about that.

But you next response was what truly surprised him, as after taking a moment to seemingly mull it over, you let out a small response that simply consisted of a single word.

“Okay.”

Illumi blinked again and he stared at you, uncertain if he had really heard you say what he thought you said. Even the butler who had remained quiet throughout the whole exchange glanced back with a puzzled expression on their face.

Upon seeing his reaction, your eyebrows furrowed and your anxiety began to build again.

“Was…. Should I not have said that?” you asked, “were you really joking when you said that?”

Your question snapped Illumi out of his slight stupor.

“I wasn't joking,” Illumi clarified, “I'm telling the truth. You're my soulmate.”

Upon hearing him again, you nodded slightly as you let out a soft breath. And then you said it again.

“Okay.”

…. You were accepting it that easily?

Illumi wasn't sure what to say, and that in of itself was strange for him.

He must have been looking at you strangely again because your nerves only continued to grow.

“Did I say something wrong? You don't seem very happy,” you said.

“… I'm a little surprised,” Illumi admitted, “I thought it would take more to convince you on account of you being unable to see the thread yourself, at least at this moment in time.”

“Ah, I guess that is a little weird,” you said, scratching the back of your neck as you added “but if that's what you say is the truth, then I'll believe you.”

“You'll believe me?” Illumi repeated.

“Y-yeah. I mean, if you kill people for a living and you chose not to kill me, then you must have had a good reason not to, right? And if you say that it's because we're soulmates, then I'll trust that that's the truth. You told me to believe in you, right?”

Remembering his words from earlier, he nodded in agreement as he confirmed “I did say that.”

You nodded in turn as you said “so I believe you.”

It looked as though you were going to say something further after reiterating that last point, but when you opened your mouth, you seemed to reconsider whatever you had planned on saying. So you shut your mouth and remained silent while you went back to fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, though you made an effort to relax yourself as you leaned against the back of the seat.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you said, “it's a bit much to take in, but I'll manage.”

You then spoke up once more as you asked “can I ask another question?”

“Of course.”

“What happened to my roommate and the others?”

“They're dead.”

You went quiet after Illumi's blunt response, and though he could see that you were once more attempting to keep your expression level, the panic in your eyes was easy to spot.

“Their bodies will have been handed over to the client by now, as well as the painting that your friends stole,” he said.

“…. But…. Does he know about me? Or did you not tell him?” you asked.

“I told you before: he was already aware of your involvement. He knew all of you, and he could have disposed of you on his own. He went out of his way to choose me because he wanted you four to suffer,” Illumi answered, “but not to worry. I found a solution in your case. Farley has no idea that you aren't dead. Even if the unlikely happens and he comes across you, he wouldn't dare do anything to you, not if he wants to risk bringing down the wrath of the Zoldyck family upon him. Once we are married and you have my name, he'll be none the wiser.”

Unfortunately, it didn't appear that you truly heard him, as when he told you that you could have been disposed of earlier, a look of dread passed over you and sweat started to bead on your neck. When your breathing grew harsher, he grew concerned once more. And when you suddenly clamped both of your hands over your mouth, Illumi stopped speaking completely, his gaze narrowing in question.

“What is it?” he asked.

“….. Could we pull over?” you asked back, your voice muffled by your hands.

Upon hearing that, Illumi grew suspicious as he asked “why?”

“I'm gonna throw up.”

“…. Oh.”

Within seconds the car had pulled over to the side of the deserted road, and a few mere moments after that you were on your knees in the nearby grass, your arms holding yourself up as you violently emptied the contents of your stomach, gagging while tears began to fall down your cheeks.

Perhaps there had been something in that drink you had gotten at the cafe that didn't agree with you, Illumi thought to himself. Though regardless of the cause it wasn't an ideal look, especially not for someone who was going to marry into the Zoldyck family. But he found himself willing to forgive you for it. You would need to learn to toughen up but for the time being…. For the time being he would offer you some grace and refrain from commenting on it.

It also might ensure everything would go smoothly between the two of you if he treated you gently.

He then caught sight of the way the butler was looking at you. They were still at their place at the door, holding it open with a water bottle in hand that was clearly intended for you. But as they gazed at the state you were in, there was an obvious look of disgust in their eyes. As they watched you while you were on your knees and retching, it was clear that they thought little of you, clear that they felt you were unworthy of the position within the family that they served.

A rush of anger swelled within the assassin when he saw that look.

The butler noticed instantly when Illumi fixed his death glare upon them, and they were quick to bow their head in submission, wordlessly apologizing to him for their transgression.

Neither said anything, though the butler did visibly tense when Illumi approached him. Instead of disciplinary action, the assassin simply snatched the bottled water from the butler's hand before making his way to your side. Once your vomiting spell had come to an end and you were merely left gasping and coughing, he had knelt down beside you, holding the water out for you.

“Drink. Vomiting leads to dehydration,” he told you.

You took the bottle without question, using it first to wash out the taste in your mouth before gulping down half of the contents in several long gulps. When you pulled the bottle away to breathe out through your mouth in what sounded like relief, Illumi placed his hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked after a moment.

It took you a moment to respond to his question, but you eventually nodded 'yes'.

“That's good.”

Illumi's hand settled on your shoulder as he then asked “do you think you can get back into the car?”

That time, the moment you took to answer was even longer than the last one, but once more you gave a nod in response.

“Sorry for making you stop,” you answered as you pulled yourself to your feet, “I figured you didn't want vomit covering your nice seats.”

“It wouldn't have mattered. Such things can either be cleaned or replaced,” Illumi answered.

He tilted his head to the side as he asked “do you need me to carry you?”

Once more you froze for a brief second, but then you shook your head and gave him a small smile as you answered “the car isn't that far away. I'll be fine walking.”

“Thank you for offering, though,” you quickly added.

“Of course.”

Though secretly, Illumi wished you had said 'yes'.

It was made up for soon after once you were both sitting in the car's interior once more. When Illumi sat down next to you, close enough that his arm was brushing against yours, you didn't make any move to get away from him, instead allowing him to remain close.

As the car started up again and began to drive off, you spoke up to ask “does anyone else know about this?”

“That you were my target?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Only you, myself and the butler. And they won't inform anyone,” Illumi told you confidently.

“But doesn't the client know me?” you asked.

“The matter for the client has been settled. I very much doubt he will remember your name or your face come tomorrow.”

“So as long as I stay with you, I'll be safe,” you said, seeming to state that fact out loud more to yourself.

Illumi replied anyway, saying “of course. Protecting one's soulmate is only natural.”

You nodded in understanding again while you fiddled with the water bottle, picking at the plastic labeling with your fingernails.

You weren't completely at ease then, Illumi determined. Despite what you had told him, there was something that was making you nervous, and he found himself thinking that perhaps it was him. You were the one who had said he was scary, after all.

It was a shame that you would lie and say the things you thought he wanted to hear, but once again he told himself that this was still better than what he had been expecting. Even if you weren't being truthful, you were being compliant, and that made things easier for him, as opening the connection for you would be less difficult if you weren't fighting him.

He wanted to talk with you more, learn more about you and get to know how you truly felt about all of this-

But as had now become a pattern, what you did next surprised him.

You leaned against him, the tension in your body slowly leaving while he felt the weight of your cheek resting on his shoulder.

Illumi blinked, looking down at you with his lips parted slightly as he felt a warmth blooming in his chest from the contact. Just as it had those times before, the feeling of you against him was strangely intoxicating. But unlike earlier, this time you were conscious for this moment, and not only that, you had been the one to initiate it.

He noted the way your eyes flitted about and how your expression grew in worry upon seeing his reaction. It seemed as though you were going to pull away.

He was fast to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you in closer.

You stiffened slightly, but eventually relaxed as you shifted to a more comfortable position, resting your head against him once again, though there was still a hint of that tension in you.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

“….. It's a little scary that you could've killed me,” you told him.

“Ah, I suppose it was,” he admitted.

Illumi leaned back into the seat while continuing “it was the last thing I had ever expected. To think, that my client would hire me to kill my own soulmate. How are odds like that even possible?”

You stayed quiet after that, but when he glanced back down at you, he saw the gears in your head turning.

“…. Maybe you were supposed to get me as a target,” you then said.

“Of course I was supposed to; Farley hired me specifically,” he told you.

“No, I mean….”

You turned in your seat to face him fully, which came as an annoyance to him as you pulled away from him slightly. You then clarified “with us being soulmates, we were supposed to come together eventually, right? Maybe… Maybe my getting mixed up in that and you being hired was meant to be. Maybe if that hadn't happened, we never would have met. Like fate.”

Illumi blinked.

Then he gazed up while he grasped his chin thoughtfully as he considered your words.

“I hadn't thought of that,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“No. I was far too focused on getting out of the situation to consider that,” he admitted, “but with the unlikeliness of it all, that may very well be the only explanation.”

Illumi looked back to you, smiling as he said, “I think you're right.”

You smiled in response.

It was the second time you had done so, and once again, it was tinged, tainted somewhat, with that hint of fear. It confirmed to him that you were saying what you thought he wanted you to, making an effort to play nice with him. But even if your words had been born out of that, they rang more true than you thought.

You would come to that realization at a different time.

Illumi pulled you in again, and you didn't resist as he did so. With you comfortably resting against him once more, he found that he felt at peace. He finally had what he had been searching for – his illusive soulmate, brought to him under the most unexpected circumstances, but still sitting safely in his arms.

While you weren't as receptive to his words as you were portraying yourself to be, Illumi was certain that he could change that.

And he was certain that would take no time at all.

[lovelybucky1]

Ok! I don't know if you can write about a wolverine who is obsessed with an older student at mansion x, what's the surprise? That she has a daddy kink with him because he has daddy issues-.

Professor!logan x student!fem!reader w daddy kink pleaaaaseee (Obviously reader is of legal age but there is Age gap between she and logan, and of course, smut!)

Cliché (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Logan isn’t a teacher by any means. He doesn’t have a lot of patience and prefers just to do rather than show people how it’s done. Xavier didn’t really give him a choice to be a teacher or not. He led Logan into a classroom full of students one day and told him to have at it. Logan wasn’t pleased with Charles, but he managed to improvise well enough. He’s been teaching since then, and while it is more bearable than he thought it would be, he still isn’t a fan. That is, until you showed up in class.

You caught his eye immediately. He could justify it to himself more if you were playing the part of the slutty student wearing short skirts and dropping your pencil so that you could give him a flash of your tits when you bent down. But you weren’t doing any of that. You were just a normal student, taking notes, listening intently, and raising your hand when you knew the answer. You weren’t trying to tempt him into anything, and Logan was a creep for wishing that you were. 

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and for the most part, he was successful. He was able to compartmentalize well enough to be an effective teacher and not sport a half-chub in the middle of every class. He thought he had finally gotten over his stupid crush that he was way too old to be having, but then you had asked him for extra help.

Like the beginning of every student-teacher porno, you came to his “office hours”, which really meant you knocked on his bedroom door late one night. You were having trouble understanding whatever dull topic Logan was teaching that week, which was unusual for you because you study frequently. You asked him to explain and he did, walking you through it to the best of his ability. Logan was suspicious because the topic wasn’t difficult to understand, and you’re a smart girl. 

After fifteen minutes of you nodding along to his explanation and occasionally biting your lip, Logan called you out. 

“You don’t really need help understanding this, do you?”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Yes I do,” you respond hurriedly. “I told you, I was a little confused by all of the information.”

Logan shook his head. “We’ve gone over topics much more difficult than this and you had no problem. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Logan couldn’t help but wonder if his inappropriate fantasies were coming true. It had all the cliches: office hours, a smart girl playing dumb, a half-assed excuse to be close to him. He can hear your heart beating quickly, and when he sniffs the air, he can smell a musky tang of arousal.

He turns to face you, and suddenly you’re unable to meet his eyes. You’re looking down at where you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Nervous, embarrassed. Gently, he places his hand under your chin and tilts your head up. You timidly look at him, eyes searching his for any signs of anger.

“What’re you doin’ here, dollface?” he asks.

He’s hoping, praying, that you don’t say what he so badly wants you to say. 

“I just… wanted to see you,” you respond. You know it makes you sound crazy, but you can’t think of any other explanation that isn’t entirely inappropriate. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel compelled to word-vomit. “I wanted your attention and this was the only way I knew how to get it and I’m so sorry, I know this is so inappropriate. Please just forget about this and I’ll drop your class-”

Logan shushes you. “You wanted my attention?” he asks. You nod hesitantly. “What for?”

You shrug, but Logan doesn’t take that for an answer. “I’m attracted to you.” 

You wince as you rip off the band-aid, and you’re so scared to see your professor’s reaction. He should yell at you, call you all sorts of names for your disgusting fantasies, kick you out of the room and have you expelled. But he doesn’t.

“That right?” Logan asks with a smirk. “You’re all worried just ‘cause you have a little crush?” Maybe it’s mean to tease you, especially when you’re looking at him like you’re about to cry, but he can’t help it. “You know I’m too old for you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not too old for me.”

Logan hums. “Then you’re too young for me.”

“I’m an adult,” you pout. “I’m not too young.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs. “I’m your teacher. I’m old enough to be your father.” Logan takes note of how your eyes sparkle at that. “You like me because I’m old enough to be your father.”

You look away shyly, and that gives Logan all the confirmation he needs. 

“Y’know, ever since I met you, I’ve been trying not to think about how much I want to bend you over one of those desks. It made me feel so fuckin’ guilty for thinking about you like that, but this whole time, you’ve been sittin’ in my class, thinking about me being your daddy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. When you devised this little plan and walked in here, you thought you would chicken out, much less have it lead anywhere. 

“I have been thinking about that,” you say.

“I’d be real sweet to ya, baby. Give you everything you’ve been wanting.”

The two of you are crossing so many lines, but neither of you seem to care anymore. He’s wanted you for weeks and as morally upstanding as he tries to be, he is still just a man.

“I want it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hands are on your hips, grabbing at your skin possessively as he smashes his lips against yours. He dominates the kiss, but you don’t mind the pinch of your lips between his teeth. It’s messy and wet and everything you’ve been dreaming of while you watch him in class. 

Your back hits the door and Logan keeps you pinned against the surface. You’re helpless to do anything but take what he gives you; his large body covering you entirely. His hands find their way under your ass and he tells you to jump. He holds you up with ease as you wrap your legs around his waist. He grinds against you, your little scrap of lace panties rubbing the bulge in his jeans. He’s thankful that you decided to wear a dress because the idea of fumbling with more than one pair of pants right now pisses him off. 

He manages to get his pants undone and pushed low enough to free his cock. Your panties get pulled to the side and his fingers slot themselves inside of you to work you open. Your face is buried in Logan’s neck, where you muffle all of your whines and moans. You’re certain that anyone out in the hall would be able to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If anything, Logan would be the one to get in trouble for sleeping with a student. You’d just be an innocent victim.

“Daddy,” you moan when he rubs that spot deep inside of you. 

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” he coos.

He continues to open you up on his fingers until he deems you loose enough to take him. When he pulls out his fingers, he wipes them on his thigh before grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch.

You both groan simultaneously as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and your pussy feels like heaven around his aching cock. You’ve both been craving this taboo relationship for so long and now that it’s finally real, it’s making your head spin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Logan growls against your neck as he begins to rut into you.

His gruff voice, casual display of strength, and the feeling of him inside you work together to light your body on fire. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to stifle your moans. 

“Logan,” you gasp after a particularly hard thrust.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and this won’t last much longer,” he tells you.

The thought that you doing something so simple as moaning his name could bring him to the edge boggles your mind. The Wolverine coming undone for some girl, a student, no less. You find yourself on a bit of a power trip, knowing what you’re doing to him. It’s only fair because he’s been torturing you for weeks without even knowing it.

You reach down between your bodies to rub at your clit. It’s sensitive from neglect, but as soon as you make contact with it, that coil in your belly starts to tighten. Hot waves of pleasure roll over your body as Logan drives his cock into you. Each bump of your g-spot causes a moan to escape from your mouth and he responds with groans of his own. 

“Logan, Logan,” you pant. “Daddy! I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Logan’s teeth find your neck. He bites at the skin under your ear and in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’ll leave a mark.

“Cum for me, princess. Gush all over my dick,” he mumbles against your skin.

You do exactly that. A few moments later, you’re clenching around his length as you rub tight circles over your clit. A moan rips from your throat as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks- or a ton of feathers, they weigh the same.

Logan staves off his orgasm long enough for you to ride out yours. Once you come down, he pulls out of you and jerks himself off to completion. Hot, thick ropes of cum paint your stomach and you watch in awe as the muscles in his arm move with the action.

You both stand there, your back against the door, as you catch your breath. You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes; your mind hazy with the remnants of your pleasure.

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, dollface,” he says.

Logan bends down to scoop you into his arms. He walks you the few feet over to his bed and lays you down gently before grabbing some tissues to clean you off. You tell him you could’ve walked, but he shushes you and replies “Let me take care of you.”

You do, and it feels like the closest to heaven you’ve ever been. The man of your dreams just fucked you stupid and is now coddling you in his bed. What could be better than this?

Logan rids himself of the rest of his clothes and joins you on the bed. He slings an arm over your waist and pulls your back flush to his chest so he can spoon you. He tucks your shoulder under his chin and presses a kiss to your neck, close to the spot he sunk his teeth into earlier. 

“Does this mean I get extra credit, professor?” you ask, giggling.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. You still gotta do your homework.”

[melliemell]

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Contents: SFW, sleep deprivation, CW for hints at depression, best way to get someone to sleep is the tried and true method of forced couch cuddling, Approx 800 words

You held your breath, trying to be as still as possible while Dazai’s unconscious body shifted, his weight nestling even closer against your chest. 

You counted in your mind, the seconds going by as Dazai slowly relaxed back into your embrace, face nuzzling right into the warmth of your neck. He was such a light sleeper usually, you weren’t going to take any risks now. Especially with how hard it was to get him here in the first place.

In retrospect, Dazai was such a good liar. 

You beat yourself up for not noticing sooner; letting him flail about through the week like it was his average Sunday when he was only functioning on pure stubbornness and blank stares alone. He was practically one stairway misstep away from ending up in a fucking ER.

You swallowed hard, turning to your side to leave a gentle kiss against his forehead. You pulled Dazai closer, your hands firm around his shoulders as you tried to shove those thoughts away. Dazai being bad at caring for himself was as bright as day, the self-preservation instincts carelessly discarded in favour of whatever crossed his fancy at the time.

Which includes and is not limited to forgetting basic human needs. Like fucking sleeping.

It was hardly ideal now, lying on a couch in the only spare room at the Agency. An hour of rest, tops. It was the best you managed, dragging Dazai away as he whined through the whole ordeal.

It bugged you a lot. Dazai was never the type to complain about slacking off, which was exactly what you were up to now. At least Atsushi was covering for you, hopefully keeping Kunikida’s strict presence away from your hiding spot. 

Pulling out any info about…this was just as fruitless; a sort of absent shrug accompanied by the most dramatic whine the only explanation Dazai provided. You could only purse your lips as you pulled him down, annoyance swirling in your chest while you made him lay beside you. Free will his ass. He was getting what he deserved and if you had to force it down his throat–so be it.

Until he rested his head on your shoulder, looking off in the distance with a face you hardly ever managed to see on him. Not when Dazai was so good at playing the jester, not a care in the world as he joked and teased away any worry you might have had for him.

And he fell asleep like this, quietly, after he gave up on playing it off against your unimpressed stares. Dazai’s eyes fluttered shut and he was out soon after. You wanted to grab at his jacket, shake him until he spilled his soul out. But your hands only trailed up, pulling him flush against you as you brushed his hair away from his face. 

You didn’t dare move after that, letting him melt into your embrace as the minutes went by. An hour passed and still no one came to look for you. Nor did Dazai move–out like a light. You could feel his warm breath tickle against your skin, even and calm. He was an absolute princess, always wanting as much attention as he could exhort from you.

But moments like those were… quiet. Sweet in the peace they provided, the gentle warmth of your bodies against each other. It made your heart ache.

Your hand trailed up to Dazai's jawline, cradling it as you pulled slightly to gaze at his face. He looked so innocent now, face serene in its rest. You hoped he wasn’t dreaming anything; Dazai’s the type to appreciate the absence of thought when he could. It was almost like deleting himself from existence, and he found comfort in it. 

Damn it. 

You needed to talk. Yes. Talking helped, right? Of course it did, you knew that from experience. But forcing it out of someone was a whole different beast. And Dazai never talked. Not really. He prattled and rattled on, yes, but not about the important things. Not seriously at least.

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead to his. “I… you know I love you, you damn idiot?” you whispered against his lips. “Just… be okay. You’re okay, alright?”

Dazai didn’t move, oblivious to the world. Your thumb brushed against his cheek, the touch gentle. You stayed like that, face to face, temple to temple.

Let him rest now. You’d deal with whatever came when you had to. Now… 

Not now.

[ryescapades-archived]

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 1 - “are you asking me out?” characters: hoshina soshiro (kn8) x f!reader contents: fluff, established rs, officer!reader (not specified which dep.), dunno if i should tag this too but reader drinks coffee lol wc ~ 1k (no beta !!)

a/n: @purpleqilinwrites hewwoo kaija my beloved tysm for participating !! my apologies for taking so long to get to your orders but i hope they are to your liking (lmk if there's anything you'd like me to change!) <3 andd here’s your slice two !

piles of rubble and cracked buildings surround him, the kaiju corpses littered around now huddled by a throng of workers from the monster sweeper inc. hoshina barely spares a glance over the dead monsters as he flicks both of his swords in a quick swipe in the air, splashes of blood splattering onto the concrete below as he cleans his blades as efficiently as he could.

grabbing his coat from the vehicle he’d taken to get to his post, he takes a peek over his shoulder when a series of faint footsteps approaches from behind. “vice-captain hoshina! i’m here to report–” kafka starts, but hoshina brushes him off with a wave of his hand. “direct all reports to any of your platoon leaders. i have somewhere else to be.”

with no further clarification, hoshina immediately sets off, leaving behind a jaw-slacked kafka and a confused reno tottering behind him. they throw a simultaneous glance at each other, wordlessly questioning each other about their superior’s behavior.

“and there he goes,” nakanoshima’s voice catches their attention. when she’s asked for the reason, all kafka and reno received is a shrug of her shoulders and a muse of “he’s a man in love. what else do you expect?” as if it’s an explanation enough.

and hoshina is, indeed, a man in love and a man on a mission. one that doesn’t include taking out dangerous beasts, but instead facing all his exhaustion head on just so he could go to you. combat suit still in operation, he makes good use of its power to hop over the buildings to the next, heading straight to that quaint little place he knew where you’d be.

the corner of his lips quirk up when he remembers the text you’d sent him prior to the mission. ‘heard your mission is in xx city. if things go haywire, i’ll be nearby to clock in asap just lmk :)’. always ready to help even when you’re off duty; one of the many things hoshina loved about you. he amusedly shakes his head at the thought.

as the mission retains minimal damage, the surrounding towns are thankfully unaffected by the destruction. the smooth cobblestone path thuds softly underneath his feet when hoshina lands in the alley, glad that your location isn’t that far from his. he pulls on the coat over his form, shoulders flexing from the movement as he rounds the corner.

even from the outside of the shop, he could already smell the roasted beans and sweet pastries. hoshina inhales deep, taking in the delightful scent before he cranes his head here and there, eyes roving over the bustling crowd until his amaranthine hues finally settle on what he’d been searching for.

and much like a heartfelt homecoming, a wholesome reunion, or like how the sand meets the shore, how the sun touches the horizon, how the morning light kisses the sheer curtains, how the coffee swirls in warm frothy milk; the familiarity of it all overwhelms him.

you stand there, all beauty and wonder, stealing hoshina’s breath and rendering him speechless as he stops in his tracks for a moment. before you can draw in a puff of breath, he is already marching towards you, closing the distance with purposeful steps.

“hi,” eyes widening slightly in surprise, you breathe out a small chuckle as you look up at him. hoshina mirrors your smile, soft and affectionate as he digs his hands into the pockets of his uniform. “hi.”

you absently lick your bottom lip, though you do notice the way his gaze flickers down to the action for a split second. taking a few glances around, you wonder if any of his officers might somehow emerge from thin air. “aren’t you supposed to be…” forehead creasing, you shrug lightheartedly, “i don’t know. slaying kaiju or something?”

“the operation just ended, sweetheart.” he beams, and his adorable little fangs make their appearance. your eyebrows raise high at his answer. “... but you’re here.” you state, trying to decipher why he’s standing in front of your very eyes, still in his combat uniform (which has people glancing ever so often) rather than reporting to his captain back at base, or freshening up at home.

“but i’m here,” he parrots, watching in interest at the way your expression unfolds. hoshina’s grin grows at your confusion, so wide and cheery that your hands itch to reach up and pinch his cheeks from endearment. instead, you wring your hands behind your back to fidget on them secretly.

the swordsman notices the lack of a plastic cup in your grasp. he takes a quick look at the coffee shop the two of you had been standing in front of before turning back to you, “ya had lunch yet?”

“nope.” you simply reply.

he shifts on the balls of his feet, directing a thumb towards the shop, “... wanna grab somethin’ together?”

a second of silence goes by. and then a laugh breaks out, bubbling from the very back of your throat as you let the mirth freely flow out of you. “soshiro, are you really asking me out right now?”

hoshina bites down on his own smile and lifts a shoulder, “well, is it working on ya?” you shake your head in response, still coming down from your giggles, “i can’t believe you.”

“you love me anyway,” he tilts his head, violet strands softly swaying from the movement. you let out a contented hum, a hand stretching out to brush his hair away from his eyes.

the afternoon sun gleams down on the two of you, but the heat from your little touch burns brighter than anything hoshina has ever felt. he thrives on it, craves it. his skin tingles where it made contact with yours, and his heart races when the sunlight catches on the metal band surrounding your ring finger.

“i do love you,” you agree with a dreamy sigh. “in fact, i’ll love you even more if you make good on your words and buy me a coffee right now, husband.”

oh don’t he love the sound of that label coming out of your lips. perhaps he should call you his wife more often now…

taglist open. and yes they’re married your honour !!! feels like i’m writing about spiderman!hoshina for a sec there (ᵕ—v—)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[simplyholl]

The Newlywed Game

Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.

He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.

When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”

“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.

When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.

Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”

“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”

You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”

Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.

Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”

You take a deep breath. This is hell. But you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.

You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.

Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.

You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.

The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.

The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.

“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.

Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.

But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.

He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.

Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.

You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.

The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.

Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.

Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.

That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.

You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.

Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.

That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.

You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.

“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”

“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.

“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”

“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.

Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu

[thedensworld]

And No News | J.Ww

Genre: angst, est relationship

Summary: Wonwoo can't reach you all day and he was worried.

Wonwoo tapped in the passcode and slipped into your apartment. The place was dark, only a sliver of streetlight filtering through the blinds. You weren't home yet. He glanced at his watch—11 pm, and still no sign of you. His jaw tightened, frustration simmering beneath his usually calm demeanor. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply before dropping onto the cold, untouched couch.

He fished out his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. None of his messages had been delivered. Maybe your phone had died, or worse, maybe you turned it off on purpose. He didn’t know, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It felt like you were shutting him out, like he was some shadow lurking on the outskirts of your life, some afterthought you remembered only when it was convenient.

Wonwoo knew it was petty to think that way. You were busy; he got it. He had his own responsibilities too. But he always tried to carve out space for you, for this—whatever it was that you two had. Yet it was starting to feel like he was the only one doing any of the carving, the only one bending and compromising until there was nothing left of himself. He hated comparing, but lately, it seemed like he was the only one trying to keep your relationship from crumbling into something unrecognizable.

The sound of the door code beeping startled him from his thoughts. He glanced at his watch again—it was past midnight. An hour had slipped by without him even realizing. He looked up as you stepped in, calling his name softly, like you hadn’t expected him to be there. You noticed him immediately because of the faint glow of the lamp he’d turned on.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice weary as you dropped your bag and keys on the coffee table. Wonwoo watched you silently, his gaze following you as you shuffled toward the bathroom without another word. No explanation, no apology, not even a simple how are you? The door clicked shut, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Of course, you were probably tired. You always were these days. But so was he.

When you finally emerged, fresh-faced and changed into your pajamas, you walked over to him, crossing your arms as if bracing yourself for something.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone neutral, almost distant.

Wonwoo didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning your face, searching for a sign—any sign—that you cared even a fraction as much as he did.

“What time is it?” he asked quietly.

You glanced at the clock and sighed. “Yeah, it’s late.”

“It’s past midnight,” he repeated, his voice tighter this time. “What were you doing out this late?”

You shifted uncomfortably, taking a small step back. “I was working… then I had dinner with a friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn’t eaten because he’d been waiting, sitting here like some idiot who believed you’d come home in time. But that wasn’t what bothered him. No, it was the way you didn’t even think to inform him, the way you assumed it was okay to leave him hanging.

“I tried texting you all afternoon,” he said slowly, holding up his phone. “But your phone was off.”

You rubbed your face, exhaustion lining your features. “Sorry, I forgot to charge it.”

Wonwoo let out a humorless laugh. “You always say that. It’s not the first time your phone’s died while you’re working, and it’s not the first time I’ve been left wondering where the hell you are.” His voice rose slightly, unable to keep the bitterness out. “I was worried about you all day.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been caught up with a project we need to finish by the weekend. I lost track of time and got distracted.” Your voice was pleading, but it only made the irritation in Wonwoo’s chest flare hotter.

“‘Lost track of time,’ ‘forgot,’ ‘I’m sorry.’” Wonwoo’s eyes blazed as he leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers he was searching for. “Last time, you said sorry too. But you still did it again. Every. Single. Time.”

“I know—” you began, but he cut you off, sitting up abruptly.

“No, you don’t know!” he snapped, startling both of you. “You don’t get it. I’m tired too. I have things to do, responsibilities to take care of, but I’m always here, aren’t I? Waiting for you, making excuses for you, forgiving you before you even apologize—if you even bother to apologize at all.”

“Wonwoo, please—”

“Please, what?” he demanded, his voice breaking a little. He stood up, towering over you, his eyes filled with something raw and painful. “I’m tired of always coming second. Of always being the one who has to understand. You say you’re sorry, but you don’t change. You never change.”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but his emotions were spiraling. He looked away, jaw clenched. “Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one trying to keep us together. Like I’m… I’m the only one who even cares.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “I’m doing my best. It’s just work—”

“It’s always work,” Wonwoo muttered bitterly. “You know what? I get it. Work is important. I would never ask you to choose. But… would it kill you to make a little more room for me? For us?”

Silence fell between you two, heavy and suffocating. You looked down, your lips pressed into a thin line, and he knew then that whatever he said, however much he begged, it wouldn’t change a thing.

“Forget it,” he muttered, brushing past you and heading for the door. “I should go. You’re probably tired, right? Just get some rest.”

“Wonwoo, wait—” you called, reaching out to him, but he was already halfway out the door.

“Goodnight,” he murmured softly, and before you could respond, the door closed behind him with a quiet thud. And you were left standing there, alone, with the apology you never got to say stuck in your throat.

*

Wonwoo never got mad—really mad. And last night was the first time you’d heard his voice rise like that, cracking through the usually calm and unshakable persona he carried like armor. Sure, you two had argued before. Little things here and there, petty misunderstandings that fizzled out almost as soon as they started. It was always resolved with one of you giving up or simply brushing it aside, pretending it hadn’t happened in the first place.

In the beginning, you were the one who used to pick fights. His calm and quiet demeanor had frustrated you to no end. You couldn’t understand him, couldn’t read him, and the constant absence—both physical and emotional—drove you insane. He was always caught up in his work, giving little time for you two to sit down and have a real, heart-to-heart conversation.

You used to demand updates, craving any tiny piece of information that would give you a sense of closeness. Where was he? Who was he with? Why couldn’t he spare a second to reach out? Wonwoo was a terrible communicator, leaving you grappling to hold onto the loose threads of your relationship. But he had changed for you. Little by little, he’d learned how to make room for you, even if it meant stepping outside of his comfort zone. You’d seen his effort, and that had made you fall for him even harder.

But then things flipped. You were the one who got busy, swept into the whirlwind of your new job at an event organizing company. The endless meetings, sleepless nights, and back-to-back projects consumed your time. You thought he’d understand since he had always been the busy one. Yet as you dove deeper into your career, it was as if you’d unknowingly turned into the very person you used to resent him for being—distant, preoccupied, forgetting to even check in.

Wonwoo’s patience was unraveling thread by thread, the steadiness that had once drawn you to him now cracking under the weight of your absence. It was almost as if he were fighting an unseen rival—your job, your responsibilities—jealous in a way that confused you. Did you like his attention? His sudden need to know your every move, to constantly check up on you? Yes, you did. But you had so much on your plate that you assumed he’d understand, just as you had tried to understand him before.

Now, standing in the cold bathroom light, you were doubled over the sink, the sour bile of your dinner clawing its way up your throat. You retched violently, but nothing came out—only a bitter, acrid taste lingering on your tongue. The pain in your stomach was relentless, searing hot, and spreading like wildfire. You clutched the sink’s edge, trying to steady yourself, but your vision blurred as a wave of dizziness crashed over you.

Your knees buckled, body folding as you slid against the wall and slumped onto the cold tile floor. You tried to take a deep breath, but your lungs felt constricted, and each inhale only made the pain worse. Every nerve screamed in agony, and your entire body felt heavy—like it wasn’t even your own anymore.

Fumbling blindly, you reached for your phone on the bathroom counter. You didn’t know who else to call, who else would drop everything for you at a moment’s notice. Your fingers trembled as you dialed the one number you had on speed dial—Wonwoo’s.

It rang once, then twice, and for a moment, dread crept in. What if he didn’t pick up? What if he was still too upset, too angry with you?

Finally, the line clicked, but instead of the familiar warmth you usually heard in his voice, you were met with a cold, strained tone. “What is it?”

His indifference hurt more than you expected, but you couldn’t dwell on it. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing out the words between ragged breaths. “Can you come…?” Your voice was a weak rasp, barely audible even to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” His tone changed instantly, the sharp edge replaced by alarm. “Where are you?”

You leaned back against the wall, your body sliding further down as your grip on the phone loosened. “I think… food poisoning,” you managed to whisper, feeling the world start to tilt and spin around you. “I think I’m going to pass out…”

“Wait, what?” Wonwoo’s voice grew louder, panic bleeding into each syllable. “Where are you? Are you home?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, struggling to stay conscious. The phone slipped from your grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud. You could faintly hear Wonwoo’s voice calling your name, his words frantic and urgent, but it felt like it was coming from somewhere far away, almost as if you were underwater.

“Hey—stay with me! Can you hear me? I’ll be there in ten, okay? Just hang in there!” His voice cracked, the desperation palpable.

You tried to nod, to say something, anything, but your vision was darkening, the pain in your stomach swelling until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Cold sweat trickled down your face, and you fought to keep your eyes open, to stay awake for just a little longer.

“Wonwoo…” you whispered weakly, but your voice was swallowed up by the crushing silence of the bathroom.

Then everything went black.

*

Wonwoo sat quietly in the waiting room, eyes fixed on the floor as the doctor examined you. The sterile, cold atmosphere of the hospital did nothing to ease the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. The moment he got you to the emergency room, all the anger and frustration from the night before had drained from him, replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. This was his fault—he was sure of it. You were lying there, weak and suffering, because he couldn’t understand you, couldn’t meet you halfway.

He was selfish. He knew that much about himself. From the moment he met you, you were everything he had ever wanted—smart, beautiful, independent—but deep down, he feared that he couldn’t be enough for you. He’d always been terrified that his flaws, his shortcomings, would eventually drive you away. But you had changed him. You had shown him how to grow, how to be better, and he wanted to be better—for you.

But last night… last night was different. He lost control. He let his insecurities get the best of him, raising his voice at you for the first time in your entire relationship. It felt wrong, and yet, in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t stop himself. He knew now that you weren’t the only one at fault. You had been caught up in your new job, excited and busy with the demands of a new career—exploring everything you could bring to the table. And more than anything, you were happy. It was written all over your face when you talked about your work, a joy you hadn’t had in your last job.

He should have understood that. After all, he had been in the same position not too long ago. When work consumed him to the point where he couldn't find time for anything else, including you. How could he have forgotten that?

The realization made his chest tighten with regret. He had no right to say half the things he’d said last night. The harsh words, the accusatory tone—they were driven by his own insecurities, not by any real fault of yours. He had projected his fears onto you, punished you for doing the same thing he had once done, and now you were lying in a hospital bed because of it.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see the doctor approaching. “It’s food poisoning,” the doctor said, his voice calm and professional. “She’s been treated, and once she wakes up, she should be fine. It wasn’t anything too serious, but she’ll need some rest.”

Wonwoo exhaled deeply, a rush of relief flooding through him. It wasn’t something worse. You were going to be okay. But still, the weight of guilt sat heavy on his shoulders. He had almost lost you, not just because of the food poisoning, but because of how badly he had handled everything. He realized now that his anger wasn’t truly directed at you—it was at himself, for not being able to keep up, for not being the partner he thought you deserved.

As he waited for you to wake up, Wonwoo made a silent promise to himself: he would fix this. No more insecurities, no more resentment. He would try harder, be more understanding, and give you the space you needed to grow. Because, in the end, all he wanted was for you to be happy—even if it meant stepping aside and letting you thrive.

“Wonwoo...” your voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but it snapped him out of his anxious thoughts. He immediately turned to you, his heart skipping as he saw your eyes flutter open. Without hesitation, he dashed to your bedside, his face softening with relief.

“Do you need anything? Are you okay?” he asked urgently.

You mumbled, “Water...” and he was quick to get some. As he gently helped you sit up, holding the glass to your lips, the sight of you drinking, of you finally awake, allowed the tension in his chest to ease.

“How do you feel? Is your stomach still killing you?” Wonwoo's voice was full of concern, his eyes searching your face for any sign of lingering pain.

You shook your head slowly, “No, I’m fine now.” Your voice was hoarse, but steady. “What time is it?”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s just past lunchtime. You’ve been out for about two hours, baby.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I must’ve scared you when I called this morning.”

Wonwoo shook his head, leaning closer to reassure you. “No, don’t worry about that. Honestly, I’m just relieved you called. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you passed out and I didn’t know.” His voice was soft, but there was an underlying fear that hinted at how much the morning had rattled him.

You nodded, the weight of everything from last night pressing against your chest. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” he quickly interrupted.

“No,” you insisted, looking him in the eyes, “I’m sorry for last night, and for... all the other times. I made you feel like you were being neglected.”

Wonwoo sighed, lowering his gaze. “It’s not just that. I was being childish. I let my frustration get the better of me. I was wrong, too. I was selfish. I’ve been so caught up in my own feelings that I didn’t stop to think about how hard it must be for you... waiting for me while I was busy all the time.” His voice cracked a little as he finally admitted the guilt he’d been carrying.

You reached for his hand, your touch warm and reassuring. “But still, I shouldn’t have made you feel like I was ignoring you. I wasn’t trying to push you away. It’s just... I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed with work lately, trying to prove myself, trying to manage everything.”

Wonwoo looked at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know. I get it now. And I don’t want you to take anything I said last night to heart. It was just... I was angry, and I didn’t mean it. I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, one that held both forgiveness and exhaustion. Then, with a playful stretch of your arms, you said, “I want a hug.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him, and without hesitation, he wrapped you in a warm embrace, one that seemed to melt away all the lingering tension between you. It felt right—like this was where you both needed to be after everything.

“Let’s get lunch after this,” Wonwoo murmured, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Anything you want.”

Your ears perked up, and you pulled back just enough to look at him with playful curiosity. “Anything I want?”

Wonwoo chuckled again, his smile soft and full of affection. “Yes, anything you want.”

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before whispering, “I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

As his words sank in, you felt a warmth spread through your chest, and for the first time in days, everything felt at peace.