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targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

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WILDEST DREAMS.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x pregnant!Reader

Neither of you would have thought you‘d ever end up like this — dating for hardly a year and you pregnant with Aegon‘s child. Yet he still has another surprise up his sleeve.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, pregnant sex, pregnancy, lactation kink, semi public sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise kink

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: Thanks to @lovelykhaleesiii for this amazing request! This can be read as part of the Mine and Mine only universe. 🤭

White Harbor has never looked more peaceful than it does at this moment.

Just two days ago, the sky above the harbor was lit up by fireworks with thousands of people watching, and now the only lights you can see are the ones on the docked boats, and the street lights and buildings surrounding the harbor.

Instead of a formal dinner with his friends, just like he has celebrated every year, Aegon has chosen to invite his younger siblings and their respective families to White Harbor to celebrate the New Year, renting a penthouse overlooking the impressive harbor. It was meant to be a trip no longer than three days, however, all parties involved have quickly decided that it would be better to extend the trip by a few more.

You and Aegon have been dating for hardly a year, meeting by chance in the very same spot you sit in right now, and, after you have found out that you both live in King’s Landing, decided to enter a situationship because you enjoyed each other’s company but weren’t looking for something serious.

Until he got you pregnant by accident.

After you both agreed to keep the child, you could swear you had spotted a few tears brimming in his eyes as you handed him the positive pregnancy test, you could observe from day to day how he became more and more absorbed in the father’s role.

You’re seven months pregnant by now, and, except for the ridiculous amount of milk your body already provides for the child, you have little to no symptoms. The child has been moving quite a bit ever since you’ve hit the six month mark, but you have gotten used to it by now.

Aegon’s arm is draped over the back of your chair with his fingers drawing mindless patterns along your upper arm, and you two bask in each other’s company and the silence surrounding you. You’re nursing your second glass of non-alcoholic wine, one hand resting on the swell of your bump and feeling the kicks of your child.

While your eyes are fixed on the tv in the adjoining living room, the Disney movie still running that was meant to keep Helaena’s children occupied during dinner, Aegon has his eyes solely locked on you, watching you gently caress your protruding bump.

He places his hand over yours, the sudden warmth prompting you to meet his loving gaze.

You lean into his embrace, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his all too familiar, comforting scent.

“You know they won’t come back, right?” you ask, voice slightly muffled because of the position of your face.

Aemond and his wife left two hours ago to feed their little boy and bring him to bed, and have not returned ever since to do God-knows-what. Helaena and Cregan were a bit more persistent with both their children occupied by the television, before they eventually departed to bring them to bed, too.

That left Aegon and you all by yourself without the hurry to get to bed.

He chuckles at your words. “I figured as much,” he says, pinching your chin to bring your lips up to his. “We have this evening all to ourselves now.”

Knowing exactly what he is hinting at, your eyes take over a half-lidded gaze almost immediately, your hormones having you feel positively bubbly.

“And I suppose there are plenty of ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime,” you purr against his lips, pecking them once. He has parted his lips when you pull back, clearly having anticipated you to deepen the kiss and not pull away after just one chaste peck.

A growl rumbles in his chest as he’s figured out your teasing, and his voice is husky when he speaks again, “are there now?”

His eyes spark with the joy of mischief at his own words, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

Aegon’s hand drops lower onto your hip, drawing you closer to him to the point you have to get up to straddle his lap. Just at the sight of the pregnant you climbing him, he could feel his crotch growing tighter, much more at the realization that it was his seed doing this to you.

The skirt of your dress rides up your thighs as you make yourself comfortable to accommodate the space your bump creates. The fabric rucks up just below your belly, and your bare skin is too inviting for your boyfriend not to rub his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs.

You rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean in to connect your lips with his. Aegon meets the kiss with passion, his arms snaking around your frame to pull you closer. Your lips press together with urgency, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

You run your fingers through his short, silver curls and hold him tight to you as the kiss deepens. You’re both eager to get as close as possible to each other, and you feel the evidence of your proximity and his desire pressing against your clothed and swollen pussy.

Aegon draws back slightly, and you chase his lips for another kiss. It was passionate but short-lived with him lowering his head to kiss your jaw.

He caresses the swell of your belly as he trails his lips to your neck, shoulder and then your collarbone. You whimper and whine at the heat on your skin that follows his lips, tilting your head to the side to grant him even more access.

Teasingly slow, he hooks his index finger beneath the strap of your dress and drags it down your shoulder, completely unphased as he starts to nibble your skin. He proceeds to do the same with the other strap, letting them dangle in the cooks of your elbows with your arms bent.

He brushes his hand over the side of your bump up to your heavy breast, cupping it through the fabric. “You haven’t worn a bra all day long,” he rasps against your collar bone, looking up at you with dark blown eyes. “Such a little minx. Bet you didn’t even think about how badly I would have to hold myself back, huh?”

The touch to your breast sends a tremble through your body, and you arch your back into it. Biting your lip as you look down at him, you whisper teasingly, though there is a hint of glee audible in your words, “not one second.”

His piercing blue eyes widen for a moment, the true meaning behind your words slowly settling. When he squeezes your breast, you tug on his hair in return, causing him to groan, and with his head already tilted up, he presses his lips to your jaw.

“You’re a very, very naughty girl… mommy.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, and his words make your body hum with desire.

You lick your lips, and bow your head to meet his, kissing him deeply. You start to grind over his clothed cock, eliciting sharp and heavy breaths from him and quiet whines from yourself whenever your lips parted for air.

Resting your forehead against his, you rub your hands over his shoulders, squeezing them. “Mommy can be very naughty,” you say, pecking his lips once. “If she gets what she wants…”

“And what does she want?” The grin he has on his lips is perfectly audible, you don’t even have to see it. He knows all too well what you’re going to say, he just wants to hear it.

“You, daddy.”

You can tell he’s taken by surprise at the nickname, since you’ve never used it with him before, his eyes widen as he pulls back to regard you. But nevertheless, a low groan leaves his lips.

Having always been insatiable and hungry for each other, it’s no surprise which direction it all takes when Aegon cups your ass and lifts you up to carefully sit you down on the table, standing between your parted legs. You bury your fingers in the hairs on the back of his neck again, and watch him carefully.

“Say that again.”

With a cheeky grin on your lips, your eyes visibly trail from his to his lips and then down to his crotch, the bulge perfectly visible. “Daddy,” you reply to the command, innocently batting your eyelashes at him.

Aegon groans again, and when his hands tug on the front of your dress, you shimmy out of the straps to allow him to free your full breasts. It’s impossible for him to tear his eyes off of them, watching mesmerized how your nipples harden as the chill air hits them.

You don’t even have to say anything for him to lean in and wrap his lips around one bud, skipping the teasing to suck on it immediately, swallowing your milk like a man starved. The stimulation and relief it brings has your back arching once again, all but shoving your breasts against his lips and into his hand.

He’s pinching your other nipple between his fingers, coaxing drops of your milk to dribble down the curve of your breast while his lips greedily lap at your other.

“Fuck,” you mewl, scratching your fingers over his scalp in a comforting manner.

Aegon’s spurred on by the way your body writhes beneath his touch and your legs clamp around his hips, locking him in and prompting him to rut his hard cock against your clothed pussy.

But as much as you yearn for the relief his lips bring you, the aching between your legs is too much and needs to be soothed by him.

“I need you, Aeg,” you whine, grinding yourself against his hard-on.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest at your words, stoking the already blazing need you have for each other. To your surprise, he pulls back from your breast with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your hard bud and his swollen lips.

They are curled into a smug smirk, the expression that so often blesses his chiseled features. “What was that?”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You know what he wants to hear. “I need you… daddy.”

Like a man possessed, Aegon pushes the skirt of your dress up and reveals your cotton panties. You haven’t worn thongs in ages, and he’s used to them by now, though it took him some while.

Noticing the damp spot in the center of them, Aegon scoffs. “God, fuck, how I‘ve missed you,“ he husks, his eyes solely focused on the outlines of your swollen folds against the cotton. He‘s not talking to you, obviously. “So eager to be filled by me, baby, mh?”

He fists the fabric between his fingers and just rips it apart as if it‘s nothing, briefly meeting your pouting gaze. “I’ll buy you prettier ones,” he replies.

His hands curl around your thighs to pull you closer towards the edge of the table, and you lean back and prop yourself on your hands, watching almost eagerly as he undoes the zipper of his pants and pulls out his cock. The tip is covered in an angry red, beads of pre cum glistening at the slit, looking all too painful and begging for relief.

Fisting the base of his cock, he drags it through your swollen folds, soaking it in your arousal before he presses the tip against your entrance, meeting resistance. You brace yourself for the delicious stretch, and release a shuddered breath when he finally breeches your hole.

Aegon doesn’t know where to look and touch you. Every inch of your body looks far too inviting, and he’s sure he could cum just knowing that he’s the one responsible for the swelling of your body. The half lidded gaze you flash at him doesn’t help either, driving him mad.

A husky groan slips past his lips as your walls squeeze him ever so tightly, throbbing and twitching as you choke him like a vice. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m not gonna last long,” he rasps.

One hand comes up to grope at your breast, while the other rests on the swell of your bump, splaying over it.

As he pulls his hips back, you wrap your legs around them in a fruitless effort to force him back into you, but he is stronger and merely keeps the tip of his cock inside of you.

“So eager to have me inside of you?” he teases, and your reply dies on your tongue as he thrusts sharply back into you.

There’s a suppressed urgency in the way Aegon snaps his hips into yours so quickly and harshly, repeatedly bullying the sweet spot inside of you that makes you putty in his hands. The vigorous pace of his pounding leaves you scrambling for support, and you opt to prop yourself up on your elbows instead of your hands to steady yourself.

Your head tilts back, and your mouth falls open, but you quickly clamp it shut to stop any wanton moans to fall from your lips. You can’t risk being too loud, as you don’t want anyone in the bedrooms far down the hallway to hear what you’re up to.

The pleasure envelops you, and when you look at him, you spot him biting his bottom lip harshly, clearly struggling with staying quiet just as much as you do. What seems to distract him at least a bit is the way your breasts jiggle each time his hips meet yours, sending tremors through your body.

Toe curling pleasure overtakes your body, and you can’t help but fondle the breast that isn’t groped by him, teasing your nipple to the point beads of your milk dribbled out of it again. The sight has him groan out, a tad too loud for the both of you.

“So fucking pretty carrying my child,” Aegon grunts, the praise making your pussy throb with pleasure and your head fuzzy. He gathers some of your milk on the pad of his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to suck his digit clean. “Pussy or tit – you just taste divine.”

The obscenity of his words coax a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your cunt, soaking his throbbing cock and the table below. You don’t want it to end just yet, but with the knot in your belly tightening, there’s no way to escape.

Your heels dig into Aegon’s ass cheeks to slightly decelerate the pace of his thrusts and force him to go even deeper, intensifying the sensations you feel.

“Fuck… please,” you whimper with your face contored in pleasure.

Aegon wrinkles his nose, looking at you from under the strands of hair that have fallen into his face. “Need something, mommy?”

Your hips roll against his as best as they can, the swollen belly not making it easy, and your mouth falls open again with breathy whimpers leaving it. “I-I’m close,” you mewl, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Wanna cum, daddy… please.”

You spot the hint of a smile dancing over his features, before he peels your hand off of your breast to bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

His other hand has found its way down to your pussy, skilled fingers dragging over your bundle in the rhythm they have long internalized. He knows you like clockwork, knows what gets you going and what makes you take just a little longer.

“Cum for me,” he pants against the back of your hand, not once breaking eye contact with you.

You collapse on the tabletop, the coldness of the wood hitting your flushed skin sending a shiver up your spine that goes so devilishly well with the fire that suddenly courses through your veins.

Just in time with your orgasm washing over you, Aegon places his hand over your mouth to stifle the loud moans and whines, knowing damn well that even though he can hold himself back, the same doesn’t apply to you.

You squeeze his cock so tightly as you fall apart beneath him, your back inevitably arching off of the table.

“That’s it, mommy,” he coos while he fucks you through the orgasm, the toe-curling pleasure overtaking your every being. He watches in awe as your face contorts in pleasure, taking pride in it since it’s him that’s responsible for it.

Only as he feels your body relax and your breathing turn more shallow than heavy does he bring his hand back down to your breast, the aftershocks of your high clearly subsiding.

Aegon keeps on going despite the overstimulation taking its toll on your body now, clearly racing for his own completion. His other hand shows mercy on your sensitive clit and instead pays attention to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Taking me so well, fuck, just a little longer,” he rambles, his head bowing forward to watch where he‘s repeatedly disappearing inside of your tightness.

Your head lulls back again, and your walls flutter and clench from the overstimulation, in dire need to take his seed and bring it to an end. Both your hands fly to the edge of the table for leverage, while his hands grope every inch of your body they could grasp.

Being overstimulated by him isn’t new to you, yet the moment the discomfort melts into plain pleasure always mesmerizes you.

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with the knot in your belly tightening for a second time, the high approaching faster and harder than before.

“Would’ve fucked a child in you if you weren’t pregnant already,” Aegon mumbles, and you can hear the strain in his voice, seemingly having troubles staying quiet.

You whine in return, and it must have been the way your walls choke him for a second time, but Aegon brings his hand between your bodies again, pressing his thumb to your sensitive clit.

“Cum with me,” you all but whine, eager to have his seed paint your walls. “Fill me up, daddy, pleasepleaseplease.”

The interplay of his cock bullying your sweet spot and his thumb dragging over your clit has you toppling over the edge once again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to silence yourself.

But even if you wanted to moan, you couldn’t, not with the white, hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your lips part with no sounds leaving them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

It’s not long after that Aegon comes undone, announcing his own orgasm with a stutter of his hips and a hoarse “Fuck, I–” escaping his throat.

Your clenching walls are milking him for all he got, making sure every drop of his cum is accommodated and doesn’t go to waste.

Two more thrusts are given to your fluttering pussy before Aegon stills his hips, collapsing forwards with his hands braced right next to the swell of your bump.

He’s towering over you, a lazy smirk on his lips as he meets your gaze, and beads of sweat cling to his flushed skin.

You rub your bump in circles as you look up at him, calming yourself as you regain your breathing.

And you want to speak, but Aegon beats you to it.

“Marry me.”

A gasp escapes you as you process the words, and your belly immediately churns with arousal and desire.

As his words ring in your ears, you lick your lips and gaze up at him lovingly, though something mischievous glints in your eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

His face softens, but his lips curl into a smirk. “I was waiting for the right time, but I didn’t know whether it would come at all.”

You giggle at his words, and also roll your eyes, as it was typical Aegon. But even if the moment isn’t perfect, your heart still beats rapidly, having a hard time to handle the overwhelming emotions his proposal causes you.

“But there’s still going to be a real proposal, right? With a ring and all that?” you tease playfully.

Aegon chuckles and helps you sit upright again, cupping your belly with both hands. “Of course, you’ll get a beautiful ring and everything else that comes with it. You really think I’d half-ass something like this? You deserve the most extravagant proposal.”

You sigh, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, his softening cock still inside of you and the weight of his words.

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

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killerpancakeburger · 5 months

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Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

“Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him.

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified.

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily.

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it.

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst.

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks.

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…”

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that…

“Pretty please?”

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context.

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart.

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed.

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality.

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor.

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter.

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it.

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

662 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Text

FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you.

The sixth.

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect.

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out. As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible.

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur.

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this?

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it.

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor.

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often.

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone.

But that’s not the issue right now.

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.”

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter.

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words.

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara."

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince.

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him.

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor.

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts.

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

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samandcolbyownme · 8 months

Text

Summary: anon request - "hear me out ok .. ok what if reader was getting a tattoo and JAKE is the person who does the tattoos??????"

Warnings: TW needles, getting tattooed, male tattooing female reader, mentions of being in pain and smoking, mainly fluff

Word Count: 5.5K | kind of edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Hello?"

"Hey y/n, it's Corey from Emblem One."

You smile, "oh hey. What's up, Corey?" You sit up and listen to him, " So, Vienna isn't going to be in today, she's got a bad, and I mean bad case of the flu."

You pout slightly, "Oh. Thats too bad. I hope she feels better soon."

"Yeah, me too. I just got done rescheduling her appointments today.. she was booked and busy so it's.. been a day so far." He laughs slightly, "But I know you trust the rest of us, and I was going down over our other appointments and Jake has an earlier opening if you want it."

"Is he the one you were talking about bringing in a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, that's him. He does pretty sick work, if I do say so myself, but you know that if I didn't think he could do your tattoos, I wouldn't recommend him." Corey chuckles slightly, "I know it's a sternum tattoo, so if you're no-"

"Put me in." You say quickly, "I need tattoo therapy Corey. I can't wait any longer." You laugh and he clicks his tongue, "You got it."

He pauses for a second, "So instead of coming in at six like you were supposed to with V, he can get you in at two thirty. That sound okay?"

"That's absolutely perfect. Thank you so much for calling me."

"Anytime. See you in a little."

"Yep, bye." You hang up, checking the time before getting up to go shower.

You were getting a chest piece done, a floral setting under your boobs with a vine that goes in between them.

You were actually kind of nervous for this one, well.. it wouldn't be as bad if you hadn't let google and all of its pain scale ratings deter your feelings about it.

You tried not to think about it by going to the shops page, looking to see if they posted an introduction to Jake.

They did, and wow is he ever pretty.

You bite your lip, reading down over the basic info that's listed below his picture.

Emblem One would like to introduce our newest artist, Jake Webber. Jake has been tattooing for a few years and he is absolutely incredible. You can swipe to see a few of the pieces that he's done so far, and if you would like to schedule an appointment with Jake, please call the shop and we'll get you set up.

You raise your eyebrows as you swipe through the attached pictures, "Wow." You shake your head, Corey was right, his work is pretty sick.

You find yourself in the comments, and to no surprise, you're reading stuff that definitely should have stayed in the keyboard.

User1: I have no tattoos, but now I want one that will take hours

User2: I have a few openings that I can definitely schedule you in to fill.

User3: I'd leave a wet spot on the table, he's so hot

"People have no chill." You roll your eyes, laughing slightly as you double tap the picture to like it before getting in the shower.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You push the door to the tattoo shop open, walking in as you give Corey a smile, "Hey."

He stands up, "What's up, y/n?"

You shake your head, closing the door behind you, "Nothing really, about to get a tattoo." You laugh slightly and he chuckles, "You don't say."

He slides the paper for you to sign, "Are you nervous?"

You sign your name and shrug, "I know it's going to hurt, but I'm so excited for it."

He chuckles and nods, "Yeah, I don't really think it's going to tickle." He nods to the back, "I'll go tell Jake you're here."

He walks back, leaving you alone in the small lobby that you're very familiar with. You walk over, looking at the different paintings and drawings that are on the walls.

You've seen them a bunch of times but they always amaze you.

"Y/n."

You turn, seeing Jake standing there and your eyes move up to meet his - wow, he's a lot taller in person.

You smile, "Yes, hi." You walk over to him, "You must be Jake."

He extends his hand out, "That would be me."

You lay your hand in his and it feels like fireworks are going off inside of your stomach.

"So if you're ready.." he nods towards the door, hand still holding yours, "You can follow me this way."

You nod, blinking a few times as you smile, "Yes. I am more than ready." You slip your hand from his and he gives you a little smirk before walking back the hall.

You follow him back, saying hi to the other artists that are there today.

"You're popular here aren't you?" Jake jokes and you laugh, "I've known Corey since, middle school, I think."

"So you're friends with the owner, how sick is that?" Jake sits down on his stool and you nod, "It has its perks."

You sit your bag down on the extra chair in the corner and shrug your jacket off. You turn around letting out a quiet, but loud enough to catch Jake's attention, "shit."

"Everything okay?" Jake looks up from getting everything set up and you nod, "Yeah, well. I mean no. I wanted to bring an extra shirt with me, just so I didn't get ink all over this one, and I forgot it."

"I have an extra one if you want it." Jake offers and you raise your brows, "Do you really?"

He nods, getting up from his stool, "It's in my car, but I can go out and grab it quick."

"Are you sure?" You tilt your head, "I don't want to be a hassle. I know you have other appointments later."

He shakes his head, "Nah, just one. But that isn't until six or something, so we have plenty of time." He grabs his keys and points to the door, "I'll be right back."

"Thank you!" You say as he walks out. You turn, digging your phone from your bag and bringing it up to text your best friend, I got rescheduled so I'm here at the shop now. Corey put me with the new guy they hired and oh my gosh is he a sweetheart, and oh, he is sooo pretty, too. Go to Emblem One on IG and look. It's their new artist. Jake.

Just as you get done, basically fan girling about Jake, he walks back in, "Here you are."

You take the shirt from his hand and smile, "You are a lifesaver, Jake. Thank you."

He bats the air, "Oh shucks." He laughs slightly and walks towards the door, "I'm going to let you get comfortable, I'll be back in a few."

You watch as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

You take off your shirt off, followed by your bra before slipping on his shirt. Your eyes scan over the black walls, moving over the long mirror hung horizontally against it.

You walk over to the mirror, spending the last few minutes alone trying to figure out how you were going to keep yourself covered while he tattoos.

As you're moving the shirt around, there's a knock on the door and you quickly pull it down, "Come in."

The door opens and Jake walks in, "Comfy cozy?"

You laugh slightly, moving to sit back on the table, "As much as I can get."

"Is there anything else I can do for you before we get started?" He sits down, turning to look at you with a smile.

You tilt your head, "It's more or less how I'm going to stay covered up, I don't want anyone uncomfortable. I seen other shops have hospital gowns that they have people put on backwards.."

He smirks slightly, "I was actually thinking about that out there and, I don't have a hospital gown, but what I can do, is cut the shirt up the middle and then tape it down so you're covered."

"I don't want you ruining your shirt, Jake." You shake your head slightly and he shrugs, "That's an old shirt anyway. I won't miss it."

"Are you sure?" You ask and he smiles as he grabs the scissors, "So. Are we doing this?"

You laugh, moving to stand up, "I guess we are."

He rolls over, pinching the hem of the shirt with his fingers before gliding the scissors upward. You lay your hands on your boobs to keep them covered and your breath hitches quietly as the cool air hits your skin.

"Let me grab the tape."

You nod as you watch him wheel over, grabbing the white tape before coming back over. He look up at you, "If you feel uncomfortable at anytime and need or want me to stop, please tell me."

"You're fine, Jake." You smile.

That wasn't a lie, you were, oddly enough, more comfortable with him than you were with any of your actual guy friends.

"I'm just saying. I don't want you writing a bad yelp review." He tries not to laugh but fails which causes you to laugh, "Oh yeah, I'm going to totally go home after this and write the worst review ever."

"Maybe that'll make the girls in the instagram comments stay away." He snickers as he shakes his head while taping down the shirt to your skin.

"You saw them?" You drop your hands and he look up with a nod, "Oh yeah." He rolls his eyes and sighs, "But I seen you liked it, so thanks for that."

You can feel your cheeks heating as he pushes himself back, "Oh, that. Yeah, i was just.. showing love to my favorite tattoo shop, you know."

Way to play it cool, y/n, you mentally slap yourself as you sit down on the table again.

He chuckles, "No I appreciate that. I know being a new artist to some is kind of scary, but Corey said he would hype me up and it obviously worked, since you're sitting on my table."

You laugh, "he did. Don't worry. He said your art was sick and I have to agree with him. You do some good work, Jake."

He smiles as he holds up a fresh, unopened needle, "Steril, clean." He brings it down to open it up, "Thank you. I appreciate getting that confirmed." He chuckles as he puts everything together.

You make small talk while he gets the stencil ready, asking where you're both from, what you do for work, this and that.

"alright, if you would come stand in front of me." He points with his pinky to the floor in front of him. You walk over to him and he rubs soap onto your skin before shaving the spot the stencil is going to be.

You look in the mirror, watching Jake as he works to get you ready.

"I'm actually nervous about this. I heard this spot hurt."

He smirks, "everyone is different, you know pain tolerance and all, but considering you have a few others, I think you'll be fine. If you need to take a break or two, or five.." he laughs slightly, "Just let me know."

You nod, "Sounds good."

He applies a thin layer of the stencil solution to your skin before turning around to pick up the thin layer of paper, "Alright. Nice and straight and stay as still as you can for me."

You let your hands hang by your sides as you try to control your breathing. You glance in the mirror, watching as Jake smooths out the stencil over your sternum and under your boobs.

"I think, this is going to be a sick ass tattoo." Jake leans back, letting the stencil sit for a few seconds before gently peeling it off, "take a look at that, let me know if you need it moved or anything."

He watches as you turn to look at the stencil in the mirror. You nod, "That's good. I like where it's at."

He nods, "Then we'll let that dry for a few minutes then I guess we'll get right into it." He smiles as he turns away to pour the ink into the little cups.

"I know your post said you've been tattooing for a while, but I'm nosey, so how long is a while exactly?" You sit back down, making sure to keep your body as straight as you can.

He laughs slightly, "Well, if you must know." He glances at you with a smirk, "I was an apprentice for about two years then I worked with an artist in the city for a little bit until I got a call from Corey."

"Did Corey find you on Instagram?" You reach up to run your hand through your hair and Jake laughs, "No, actually. My friend Sam got him in touch with me."

You blink, "Wait. Sam.. what's his last name?"

"Golbach."

"Shut up."

"I'm confused." Jake laughs and you shake your head, "No, no. I know Sam."

"Really? No fuckin' way." Jake's mouth drops open, "How do you know Sam?"

"My family knows his family. Ever since we were little." You shake your head, "That's crazy. Maybe it is a small world after all."

"Yeah, yeah." He smiles, "It sure is."

You smile and after a few seconds of silence, he points, "I'm going to check your stencil if that's okay."

"Oh no." You push your chest out, "Go ahead."

He walks up, gently rubbing his finger over the end part and nods, "Ready?"

You take a deep breath, "I guess so." You laugh as you swing your legs up, lying back on the table. Jake sits down, wheeling himself and the cart over.

You hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun and you take a deep breath. Jake applies a thin layer of Vaseline over the stencil, "Alright. If you need a break at all, let me know."

"Alright." You nod, taking in a deep breath before he anchors your skin down to start.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Halfway through the tattoo, you opted for a break.

Jake takes your hand, helping you sit up. You swing your legs over the edge of the table, "Thank you."

He nods, taking off his gloves before shrugging off his jean jacket, revealing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"I like your tattoos." You smile as your eyes move over his tatted skin. He smiles, "Thanks. I'm kind of an addict when it comes to them."

"Tattoos are hot, so it's okay." You smirk at him as you get up to look into the mirror. He walks up behind you, "Yeah, they really are." His eyes move from your half finished tattoo to your eyes and his lips form into a smirk before he turns away.

"Do you care if I go out and have a smoke real quick?"

You shake your head, "Nope. You're good." You smile at him, "Take your time."

"So sweet." He smiles and pulls the pack from his jacket pocket, "I don't know if you smoke, but I'd feel like it would be rude of me not to offer you one."

You laugh and shake your head, "I only smoke when I'm drinking, or drunk, I should say."

"Nothing wrong with a drink and smoke." He smiles and puts a cigarette between his lips, "I'll be back."

You nod, bending down to get your phone out so you can snap a picture of your tattoo progress. You laugh when you read over the text from your friend, oh my god. He is absolutely beautiful. You're letting him see your tits? Lucky day for both of you lol

You roll your eyes, taking a picture of your current state, He gave me his shirt and cut it so he could keep me covered. He's honestly very respectful, but we're halfway done. I'll send you a picture when it's all done.

You walk back over and toss your phone in your bag before going back to sit on the table. As you sit and wait for Jake, you can't help but think about how you feel like you've known Jake for years.

You clicked with him, so fast that it was actually kind of scary.

"I brought you a water." Jake says as he rounds the corner into the room. You look up, smiling as you take it, "Thank you so much."

You open it, taking a sip before lifting your legs to rest them on the table, "How was your smoke?"

He nods, "It was alright." He laughs as he grabs new gloves, "Don't worry, I washed my hands when I came in."

"No worries, I trust you." You smile, watching as he pulls the black gloves over his hands.

He had nice hands. Very. Nice hands.

"Are you ready to start again?" Jake snaps you out of your stare and you smile, "Yes. Yes I am." You lay back on the table as look over at Jake, "So is this your first sternum piece?"

He looks up at you, "Mm, not really. I did a touch up on one other, but her boyfriend stared me down the whole time."

"Oh I bet that was awkward." You stare up at the ceiling, "I hate that. I hate people in general."

Jake chuckles before he starts tattooing, "I totally get what you mean."

"Oh, I don't hate you. I hope you didn't ta-"

He cuts you off, "Not at all. Not at all." He smiles as he continues, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you have beautiful skin."

You bite down on your lip, smiling as you feel your cheeks turning red, "Thank you? I think."

He leans back, wiping your skin, "I meant that as a compliment, sorry if it didn't sound like one."

"No, no. It did. I just.. never got that compliment before."

"Really?" He shakes his head, "People are missing out to see you smile, then." He glances up at you, and you can tell that he's just as comfortable with you as you are with him.

You didn't really believe in love at first site stuff, but you did believe in that click, and that click is what you have with him.

"Alright, now this part might hurt a lot more than the bottom piece, so if you need another break, just tell me."

You give him a nod, biting down on your lip as he starts the vine that's between your boobs.

"Oh.. gosh.." you take calming breathes as he was right, it does hurt, "you were right."

You close your eyes, trying to think of something else and Jake helps with that.

"Have you lived here long?"

"Kind of." You say instantly, "I've been here a few years. I actually only live a few streets over in the Green Ridge apartment building."

"Nice, nice." Jake wipes away and gives you a little breather, "Do you have any pets?"

"I have a cat." You laugh slightly, "I would love a dog, but my building doesn't have the grass around it for them to go out, you know."

"Oh man. Of course not. What's your cat's name?"

You laugh slightly, "Um. It's mystic. He's a fluffy grey cat and I got the name from The Vampire Diaries." You wince slightly as you feel the needle piercing your skin, "I'll show you a picture when we're done."

"I would love to see it." He smiles as he moves onto the next part, "I don't have any pets. Mainly because I spend most of my time in the shop, whether it's drawings or tattooing, I just like being here."

"Did you draw that moon phase picture above the mirror?" Your eyes move to the frame and back to him, "Yeah I did." He looks up at you with a smile, "it wasn't easy, took me forever but I finally finished it."

"Do you.. think you can draw me a flower piece that connects to the top of this one?"

He nods, "I'd be honored."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Two hours of talking and tattooing later, Jake is up by your shoulder, leaning over you to finish the top of your tattoo, "We are almost done, sweetheart."

The cute little pet name makes your stomach flip and your cheeks turn pink, "Okay." You say quietly with a smile, "I'm so excited to see it."

"I may be biased, since I'm the one who's doing it, but it's so pretty." He nods, "I like it."

"I'm sure I will too."

"If you don't like it, you can tell me. I promise I'll wait to cry until you leave." He laughs and turns to get more ink.

"I don't think you'll need to cry. From what I already saw, I'm in love with it already." You smile at him and he nods, "I'm glad."

His arm lays over your shoulder, resting under your chin. You close your eyes, feeling the vibrations move through his arm and before you know it.

You're done.

Jake leans back, "Well.." he wipes off your skin, "we're done."

"Already?" You smirk, "That didn't even take long."

He laughs as he helps you sit up, your hand in his and his other on the center of your back, "Take a look."

You glance down before sliding off the table. You walk over to the mirror and your jaw drops, "Oh my god."

"Go easy on me, I'm sensitive." He holds his hands up and laughs.

"No, Jake. This is .. this is beautiful." You turn back to look at it more, "By far my favorite tattoo."

"I'm glad you love it. I love it too." He sprays a paper towel and sits down, "I'm just going to wipe it off some more then take a picture if you don't mind?"

You turn to face him, "I don't mind." You smile as you step towards him, feeling that relief as he wipes over the completed tattoo. (A/n: if you ever had a tattoo, you know exactly what I'm talking about.)

He rests his hand on your hip as his eyes move over the tattoo, wiping it in different spots, "Beautiful."

You look down at him and he smirks, "That tattoo looks pretty good, too." He winks before turning to grab his phone.

Okay, so there's something there. You weren’t imagining it.

You take a deep breath, licking your lips as you turn to look at it in the mirror again, admiring his work.

"Alright." Jake says, "Ready when you are."

You turn back to him, standing up as straight as possible as he snaps a few pictures.

"Got them. I'll probably post it later if you're okay with that?" He looks up at you and you nod, "Whatever you want to do. I'm covered."

"I definitely wouldn't post them if you weren't." He chuckles and points, "Do you want me to take that tape off or did you want to do it at home?"

"You can take it off and I'll just wrap the shirt over and we can slap a new piece on if that'll work?" You motion to pulling the shirt over and he nods, "oh yeah, that will totally work. Do you want me to cover it?"

"Oh yes. Please." You nod and he gives you a thumbs up before turning around to grab some Saniderm. He holds up the piece, "I think that'll be good for the bottom, I'll cut a skinnier piece for the vine part."

You nod, letting him do whatever he needs to do.

He runs his hands over the clear covering and then moves to take the tape off, "If you wanted to grab this side, I'll go ahead and work at getting these pieces off."

"Okay." You hold the side against you as he peels each piece of tape off on the other side before you hold that side of the shirt against you.

You pull the shirt over, holding it there until he grabs a new piece, "Thank you again, for the shirt, for cutting your shirt, and for doing all of this."

"It's not a problem at all, y/n." He smiles as he rubs the piece of tape to stick to the fabric, "Thank you for allowing me to do this."

"Corey said you were good, I just wanted to see how good." You smile and step back. He smiles, "Well I appreciate your curiosity getting the best of you."

"Of course." You nod and go over to grab your jacket, slipping it on before grabbing your bag, "Do you want me to meet you out front then?"

He nods, "Yeah that'll be good."

"Okay." You walk out to the front and Corey looks up, "Well, I see you're alive. How was it?"

"Painful. But.. worth it." You laugh and rest your bag on the counter, "You have a good artist back there."

He tilts his head, "Good as in he does good work, or good as in you like him?" He smirks and you shrug, "Is it okay to say both?"

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, "I guess." His eyes move behind you as Jake walks out. He moves behind you and around to stand next to Corey.

You hand him the money the amount for the tattoo and he squints his eyes, "How much did you and Vienna agree on?"

"Three fifty." You say and Jake laughs, "I'll take two."

You sigh, "then I'm leaving you a big tip."

He chuckles and Corey looks between the two of you, "I have to go.. check on something.. I think." He laughs as he walks away, leaving you and Jake at the desk.

"I'm not leaving until you take it." You rest it down on the counter and Jake sighs, "You're persistent."

"I like to show my appreciation." You smirk and he picks up the cash, "Fine." He smirks and sets it down on the desk, "Are we looking at scheduling another?"

"Is that even a question?" You laugh and Jake sighs, "Yeah, a dumb question." He laughs and looks at his schedule, "When did you want to come back in? For the shoulder connecting piece, right?"

You nod, "Um, we can do like two, three weeks? That should give you enough time to draw it up for me."

"Okay." He bends down, clicking on the computer, "Does the twenty first sound good?"

"That's perfect." You smile and watch as he writes down the date on an appointment card. He hands it to you and right when he's about to say something else, the door opens and you both look over.

A guy walks in, smiling at both of you.

"Hey Matt, I'll be right with you." Jake nods to him and looks back at you. You sigh, "Thanks again, Jake. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime."

And with that, you leave the shop, mentally beating yourself up that you didn't ask him out.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A few days later

The last few days have been painful and irritating as you can't really sleep comfortably yet.

So it's two am, you're wide awake, and your phone goes off.

Who could that be, you think as you sit up, leaning over to grab it.

Hey, y/n. It's Jake. I'm so sorry that it's so late but I cannot stop thinking about you.

Your mouth drops slightly as you feel an excited rush roll over your body. You smile, biting your lip as your thumbs quickly tap the screen, Hi Jake. I'm glad to see that we both feel the same way.

You clutch your phone, anxiously awaiting his response.

Okay, wow. This is embarrassing. I honestly didn't expect you to be awake, but then again I'm glad you are. I wanted to ask you out at the shop the other day but I was so fucking nervous.

You giggle slightly, happy that you finally got the message you were waiting for, or waiting for the courage to send.

You tap the screen biting down on your lip as you send the message, You're literally taking the words right out of my mouth. I was so nervous, too.

You see the bubbles pop up, disappear, and then pop up again before he finally sends his message, This might be a long shot, but what are you doing right now?

You look at your screen confused but you answer, I can't sleep so I'm just lying in bed wide awake.

He answers, almost instantly, Do you want to take a drive?

You answer instantly, Yes, please.

You send him your address and he responds, I'll be there in twenty, I'll text you when I'm there.

You kick the blankets off, hurrying over to grab a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt from your closet. You brush your hair, not worrying about anything else before you walk out to your living room to wait.

You were kind of nervous, but at the same time, you were so excited to see him.

Twenty minutes later, your phone lights up and it's a text from Jake, I'm parked out front in the Tesla.

You grab your bag, making sure you have your keys before walking out of the door. You walk down, smiling at his car as you walk towards it.

He smiles at you through the windshield, leaning across the consol to open the door for you.

"Thank you." You say as you get in and shut the door. You turn towards him as you buckle, giving him a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey." He smiles and looks away, "god why am I so nervous?" He laughs and looks back at you. You shrug, "I asked myself that, too. A few times on the way out here."

He smile and shakes his head, "I figured we could stop, get some snacks before we drive around?"

You nod, "That's good with me."

"Okay." He nods and starts driving, "So. I have to ask. Are the lines on your tattoo straight?"

"I think so." You look at him, "Why do you ask?"

"Because.." he laughs, "I had to force myself to not shake."

You laugh slightly, "Aw, Why were you shaking?" He looks over at you, "I started shaking the minute you turned around to look at me in the lobby."

"Well you did a good job at covering it up because I couldn't even tell you were." You smirk and he sighs, "Well that's a relief." He looks over at you, "Tattoo healing okay?"

You nod, "Oh yeah. I took the stuff off two days ago I think?" You look over at him, "Do you want to see it?"

"If you're okay with that." He nods, "I'd love to."

He pulls into the parking lot and you unbuckle, bunching up your sweatshirt to reveal the underboob part of the tattoo, "I love it."

He raises his eyebrows, "That looks so good."

You nod, "It's healing perfectly."

He smiles as he points to the building, "Shall we go get some car ride snacks?"

You nod, "Let's do it."

You get out, walking in with him. You stay close to him, mainly because you're just happy to be with him. You grab some snacks and a drink, making your way up and Jake takes you stuff from your arms to pay.

"You don't have to do that." You say and he looks back at you, "You got out of bed at two in the morning for me, it's the least I could do."

You roll your eyes with a smile and wait for him to grab the bag before you walk out. You get back in the car and Jake looks over at you, staring for a few seconds.

"What?" You ask shyly, "Is there something on my face?" You brush your face and Jake laughs, "No." he sighs, "You are just.. amazing."

He laughs nervously and you smile as you look down, "So are you."

He turns towards you , word vomit spilling out, "I definitely would have asked you out the day you were at the shop, but I didn't want to do it with Matt standing and.. and then I thought that I could wait until your next appointment with me, but I couldn't so I got your number from your client profile and I just.. had to see you sooner."

"I'm glad you did. I was beating myself up over not saying anything." You sigh, "Plus. You're worth getting out of bed at two in the morning for."

He smiles and shakes his head, "That.. is sweet. Thank you."

You laugh, "I'm just glad we feel the same."

"You had me when you first looked at me, but you really got me at I hate everyone." He laughs, "I'm just glad that it wasn't all in my head."

You shake your head, "Nope. It's not."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

As usual, let me know how you liked this. Thank you for reading! Love you all!

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#samandcolby-ownme #Jake Webber #Jake Webber one shot #Jake Webber fluff #jake webber one shots #Jake Webber fluff one shot #Jake Webber one shot fluff #jake webber x you #Jake Webber x reader #Jake Webber x reader fluff #Jake Webber fluff one shots #Tattooed With a Side of Love #anon requests #anon request

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

Counting the Minutes

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Separated for the Christmas break, her and Michael have to get creative.

Author's note: A little addition to The Golden Ratio, though can also be read as a standalone piece. Day twelve of the Smuffmas prompts - "promise and phone sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She nestles beneath the duvet, clicking through the contacts on her Nokia until she reaches Michael’s name. A faint smile tugs at her lips as her finger hovers over the call button, she can’t wait to speak to him.

They have been inseparable since the night that Oliver ditched him. They brought out the best in each other. Michael lit a fire underneath her that made her want to study harder, to strive for perfection in all things. In turn, she softened him up and taught him not to see the world through such a harsh lens.

Their relationship had become serious enough that they had both chosen to spend their reading week together, instead of going home like the vast majority of people at their college had.

Now the term was over, and Christmas had beckoned them both home; Michael back to his mum, and her back to her dad. It’s odd not to see him every day, and though they’d stayed in touch on MSN Messenger, nothing compares to sitting with their legs entwined as they discuss their notes for their upcoming tutorials.

It’s only been a week and she misses the way he rests his chin against his hand when he’s deep in thought, how the intensity of his unblinking, blue eyed stare causes her skin to grow hot, and the smell of Imperial Leather soap and old books that she inhales when she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding the phone to her ear, it rings once, twice, three times before he answers.

“Hello, you.”

His voice gives her butterflies. It’s the sound she’d attribute to how it feels to run your fingertips against plush velvet.

“Hi,” she says back with a coy smile. God, she wishes she could see him.

“How long can you talk for?” He asks.

“I put credit on my phone yesterday, ten pounds, so should be good for a while.”

“One hundred and sixty six point seven hours.”

She huffs a laugh. Of course his mind wanders to the maths of it.

“You think we could talk for that long?”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the time.”

“Like we did during reading week?” She asks softly, her fingers drawing lazy circles against the cotton of her bedsheets.

“Can’t really do that over the phone.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?”

She hears him suck in a harsh breath before he replies. “What do you think?”

It causes her to giggle. Of course he hasn’t.

“Would you like to try it?” She holds the phone tighter to her ear, a lazy grin upon her lips.

“What does it entail?”

“Well,” she begins, switching her mobile from one ear to the other, and snuggling further down into the bed. “We describe what we’d like to do to each other while we touch ourselves.”

“One thousand, two hundred and fifty.”

“What?”

“On average, I can make you orgasm in about eight minutes. If we run through all of your phone credit then that’s how many times I could make you come.”

“Michael!” She gasps, feeling her insides flutter at the thought. “I don’t think that would be physically possible. I’ll settle for just the one today.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the sound breathy through the receiver. “Yes, I suppose that’s a bit impractical. Alright then, you start.”

“I wish you here right now,” she purrs seductively. “I want to push my hand up your t-shirt and run my fingers against that little trail of hair that leads all the way down your stomach, before I wrap them around your cock.”

His breathing grows heavier and she can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the background. She bites her lip, her own hand snaking beneath the duvet and into the waistband of her knickers.

“I miss the way you feel,” he tells her, voice shaky, “how tightly you grip me when I first push inside of you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. You’re so wet, so warm…”

She can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping over his cock, the sound sends arousal pooling between her legs and she circles her pearl in earnest, the added wetness aiding her ministrations. She hadn’t expected him to focus on the sensation of physical touch quite so much, but Michael is pragmatic after all, and his innovative approach excites her.

“Mmmm,” she moans quietly, “I want you to do that thing where you grab my hips to pull me back against you as you fuck me, it feels so good.”

A broken whimper escapes him, and there’s a brief moment of just his ragged breathing before he speaks again.

“The way your thighs tighten against my waist drives me mad. I swear I can still feel you there when I close my eyes, see the way your tits bounce– fuck!”

She whines, circling her bud faster, the coil in her gut tightening. “Wanna slide my hands down to your arse, push you in as deep as you’ll go, watch how your eyes screw shut as you come inside me.”

He grunts. “Wish I could come inside of you so badly. I need to feel you clenching around me, hear the pretty sounds you make as I fill you up.”

Her hips jerk involuntarily against her hand, and she knows she’s close. It’s been a week since he’s touched her and his filthy words have sent her unravelling much faster than she anticipated.

“I’m close,” she pants.

“M–me too,” he huffs back. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the moment we get back to college.”

“Oh god–” Her response is cut off by her pleasured cry, as she falls apart, her walls spasming around emptiness as her thighs tremble.

A grunt and heavy breathing on the other end of the line lets her know that Michael has reached his end too. There’s nothing but the sound of their shared gasps for air, as they both recover.

“Do you promise?” She finally asks. “To fuck me hard when we get back to college?”

“Tell you what, let’s go back a day early and we can spend an entire day doing just that.”

She giggles excitedly, rolling onto her side. “I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

#michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #michael gavey imagine #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

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yourfriendowlbear · 9 months

Text

Name Day

Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: It's your name day. Astarion wants to do something special for you.

today is my birthday, so I figured I'd write something a little self-indulgent

It’s your name day, and Astarion has been frantic

He doesn’t remember much about his life before Cazador, but he knows that birthdays are a big fucking deal for elves

And whether you’re an elf or not, he wants to do something. If you are an elf, it’s all the more important for him to celebrate accordingly.

He’s freaking out. What in the hells does he do for you? What in the hells can he get you?

He’s more than happy to buy you anything–he’s more than happy to steal you anything, but you have everything reasonable that you could want.

Nothing seems good enough for you. He knows that you’ll more than likely love whatever he ends up with, but that doesn’t mean he’s cutting himself any slack.

He’s so desperate that he goes to Gale. He’s got ideas, but he’s just a vampire with limited resources and limited nighttime hours. He knows when he’s at a disadvantage, and though he’s loathe to ask for help, he isn’t willing to fumble this.

So he convinces you to visit Waterdeep and to drop in on your wizard friend, who has insisted on numerous occasions that you’re more than welcome at his tower any time.

It takes a few days, but Gale does manage to enchant something for Astarion to gift you. The wizard had helped him plan it, and he’d basically had to create the enchantment from the ground up. It’s beautiful, and he absolutely cannot wait to give it to you.

The day of your birthday arrives, and you’re at your shared home in Bloomridge, in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate. The house–like many of the homes in the neighborhood–is built onto the side of the city wall. It’s small but not cramped, with a large, inviting kitchen, a cozy drawing room, and two bedrooms. Two balconies–one off the main bedroom, one off the drawing room–look out over the city and Grey Harbor.

Astarion is nervous, and he’s never been more glad to not have a heart, since it would probably give him away.

It’s evening. The two of you have just gotten up. You’re sitting out on the balcony, curled up on the outdoor settee. There’s a lantern hanging on a hook above you as you read. Astarion’s arm rests around your shoulders, a book clasped in his other hand. You’re nestled into his side, a barely held together ancient tome in your lap. Scratch lays on the ground in front of the settee, head on his paws.

A raucous laughter pierces through the foggy evening. Karlach and Lae’zel are the first to appear on the stairs.

Leave it to your merry band of misfits to disrupt the peace of your little neighborhood.

You’re off the couch and at the front door in a flash. Scratch gives a confused woof before trotting off after you. Astarion can hear you laughing as you let them all in.

By the time he can see you at the door, you’re being squeezed by Karlach. Gale stands, grinning, in the hall. Wordlessly, he nudges a package into Astarion’s hands.

Wyll has brought a cake. Lae’zel carries something that looks strangely like a sword wrapped in paper. Shadowheart has a little box.

As you lead them all in, Gale hands you a large bottle of Blackstaff wine.

You drink and laugh with these people who, over the course of only a few months, became your best friends. And as much as Astarion hates to admit it, he loves them for showing up for you.

Eventually, Karlach pushes you to open the presents they’ve brought.

As expected, Lae’zel has brought you a Githyanki sword, a traditional gift for warriors on their name days. Shadowheart has brought you a necklace that she’s blessed.

Astarion saves his for last, sliding it into your lap when you’re laughing at something Wyll has said, your voices all a little louder from the wine. You look at him, a little confused, but you tear the paper off anyway.

You’re even more confused when you discover six stone tablets and wooden styluses inside.

Gale takes pity on you, and picks one up, using the stylus to write ‘happy name day, tav’ on one of the slates. You gasp when it appears on the other five almost immediately.

“So you can talk with everyone when you need to,” Astarion explains. He hates how soft his voice sounds, but gods above, he put a lot of thought into this. He so desperately wants you to like it.

But his fears evaporate when you launch out of your chair, your arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug.

He laughs and hugs you back, relieved that, for once, he could give you something nice, something you deserve, so that he could show you just how cared for you are.

#astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanons #astarion fic #astarion romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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ms-demeanor · 1 year

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Hey, if you have the time, would you be willing to help me understand whether msg is harmful or not? I'm seeing a lot of conflicting information when I try to look it up, though I understand that a lot of the basis of the (us) hate for it is just racism. In particular this paper worries me and I don't feel that I have the tools to parse it well- https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5938543/&sa=U&ved=2ahUKEwjyoJ_3-bqBAxXRF1kFHeF1DPMQFnoECA0QBg&usg=AOvVaw0i4ZlJU2xakrpbz-DMFx24

Okay, we're going to play chase the reference with a few of the links in this paper.

the [3] link there (which makes the claim that MSG reactions occur 20 minutes after consumption) leads to this paper, which is a case study of a single patient who had swelling in his throat after eating at a Chinese restaurant. That paper has only 7 citations, 4 of which were at least 30 years old (and one was 50 years old) at the time of publication.

Let's dial in to something interesting in that case study:

First of all, the case study that proved symptoms come on in 20 minutes was for a case when symptoms came on after more than eight hours. Secondly let's look at that last sentence - those two papers found that MSG consumption without solids (as in soups) was associated with more reported symptoms, right?

Well. Not completely. Obayashi and Nagamura's review found that the studies in which increased reports of symptoms were present were the ones in which it was possible to taste the difference between MSG and the control, OR in studies where the flavor of even the control was so strong that people might have thought they were being given MSG. The studies in which the MSG was dissolved in chicken stock found no significant difference between groups consuming MSG or a control.

And the other review cited there [7] did note more symptoms reported without solid food, but also noted that those results weren't reproducible.

So the root paper links to a case study that doesn't actually support the sentence it's cited in and that itself cites two papers as evidence that draw different conclusions than the authors of the case study.

That's one source chased. Let's chase another. The misused paper from the case study also shows up in the root paper.

the claim "75 mg/kg MSG significantly elevated systolic blood pressure" is supported by two whole citations. Let's see what they say. Obayashi and Nagamura are pretty clear:

That's the only observation of blood pressure listed in that paper.

What about Shimada et al.?

well, that actually wasn't what they were looking at, there were confounding factors, and the dose that produced the described results is twice what was listed in the root paper.

and actually the 75mg/kg dose in the root paper is mentioned in citation [5] in this paper and whoops, the low (75mg/kg) dose was *not* associated with increases in blood pressure:

Also. I mean. Jeeze. For an adult weighing 200lbs, 75mg/kg is 6 grams.

What did the root paper say they thought the average daily intake was?

so 75mg/kg is six times higher than the high end of an estimated average and is not enough to cause a statistically significant increase in blood pressure. Cool cool cool.

I've looked at this paper long enough now to get really mad at it.

Paragraph by paragraph, here's what this paper says:

MSG: what if it's poison?

According to multiple studies of rodents in which MSG was injected subcutaneously in juvenile animals MSG might cause obesity or neurological symptoms similar to traumatic brain injury. If humans were to get doses similar to infant mice being subcutaneously injected with MSG as toddlers it could be catastrophic.

This one guy even got a swollen throat from MSG eight hours after eating some soup once and some people who study headaches says it's more common to have bad reactions to msg in soup and he ate soup please ignore that actually the headache people weren't saying reports were more common from people eating soup.

Both animal studies with extremely high doses of MSG and a human study with broken links that doesn't appear on the publisher's website anymore suggest that MSG could do reproductive harm or at least make cramps worse possibly.

The way that people have discussed asthma and MSG in the past is really extreme and super negative but actually there's never been a connection proven there.

And actually it seems like maybe MSG prevents anemia? Neat? Possibly. ANYWAY:

what harmful effects??? You have not successfully described any harmful effects!!!!

this kind of thing shows up all the fuck over the place, look at this bit from a totally different paper:

that cites one nearly 40 year old study, two studies that are nearly 30 years old, two rodent studies, and:

and a literature review that does not reflect those findings and calls for further research because there is poor evidence for those claims.

I'm so mad.

I'm not mad at you, I'm mad that the root article frontloaded with a bunch of complicated neurological stuff that is difficult for anyone without a neuroscience background to parse (i sure can't) and then left the bullshit and misused citations for later in the paper. I'm mad that half of the articles cited in every one of these papers is skeptical of MSG as a risk or a threat and those skeptical papers are being linked to as evidence of MSG as a threat. I'm mad that this stuff is inaccessible and confusing because it doesn't need to be confusing i don't know why these people who work at universities and hospitals are writing these kinds of bullshit papers, I don't know why if you look for information about the safety of msg you get webMD "medically verified" articles that tell you to avoid tomato sauce. I hate all of this and I'm so mad and it's bullshit but here is a very long writeup on why the methodology of a lot of the studies cited in the article you linked are not ideal; this piece goes over a lot of the supposed harms of MSG with a fine toothed comb and generally finds that food amounts of MSG are likely fine and that it's probably worthwhile to do some research on MSG as it relates to fetal development but that it should pretty much be considered safe.

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ussgallifrey · 3 months

Text

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now.

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers oneshot #marvel fan fic #my fic

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starlightazriel · 2 months

Text

necessities 2

series desc: modern day (fem)reader x classic prythian azriel au, series of short chapters, fluffy, smutty, cute, probably some angst and or drama cus it's me

warnings: 18+, again guys this is silly hehe, reader is a lil airheaded, prescription drugs mentioned, swearing, reader is an influencer HAHA, i'm high, az has a dirty mind freaky boii,

wc: 1.7k

other parts will be found on my masterlist under azriel

two

"You ready?" Azriel quirks a brow, looking down at you, you swallow hard, it didn't matter how big his arms were, basically the size of your fucking leg, how strong his body felt against yours. You were shaking with fear, shaking. The thought of flying through the air, not in first class with your fuzzy pink sleeping mask, a valium, and your security squishmallow- was not sitting right with you. Not at all.

"No," you squeak, your chest feeling tight. Heights- were one thing that you never did. Your friends hadn't even been able to pay you to get on Kingda Ka at Six Flags last year. "I don't even do rollercoasters- This-" you gulped, unable to even find the words.

"Roller what?" Azriel asks, his brows drawing together again, talking to you was definitely exhausting. He only seemed to understand about half of what you said. He would have to start writing these things down.

"Where I'm from people pay to get strapped into a death machine and basically dropped from the sky, I personally think it's like adrenaline junky behavior," you say, peering up at him, he raised his eyebrows as he looked back down at you, his eyes hazy with contemplation.

"Interesting," Azriel replies, this seemed to be the easiest thing to say, it was interesting after all, even if he didnt understand much of it. Your world sounded absolutely bizarre to him. It was hard to comprehend many of the things you said, but he thought he could listen for hours just to hear your ebullient voice, he supposed you were fairing rather well considering the fact that you had fell through some kind of blip in the magical web of infinite worlds— and may very well never see any of your friends and family ever again.

He had also noticed that your clothes were ridiculously useless and thin, he didn't understand what purpose they even served besides merely hiding the color of your nipples. He could see the curve of your body right through them, he was trying to be good, trying not to let his fingertips accidentally brush against the side of your breast while adjusting his hold on you. It's ill mannered to imagine how your cock would split a tiny little human woman in two the first day you meet her, he reminded himself. He knew he shouldn't stare either, so he tried to keep his eyes to anything but you, it proved to be rather challenging.

He thought you might be the most fascinating thing he'd encountered in all of his five hundred years of life.

"Well we do have to go at some point, what was that second name? Bubbles?" He smirked, he liked that. First, it was a word that he knew and understood, finally. Second, it suited you, despite having met you only hours ago... Undoubtedly a Bubbles.

"It's my at for all of my socials and it kind of just became my nickname," you respond and you can't help but smile back at that amused smirk he wore, it was definitely contagious, as small as it was.

"You may as well be speaking another language, but I don't mind, because you look positively scrumptious doing it," he paused before adjusting his stance, his grip tightening slightly on you, the heat from his fingertips against the thin fabric of your tank top and leggings was melting you from the inside out. He was carrying you bridal style, but it was almost more like a cradle considering how small you were compared to him. You were blushing at his comment, you couldn't help it, the sexual gravelly lull of his voice definitely had to be some kind of bat-man siren song.

Your heart beat quickened as he took a step forward, the realization that his tightening hands meant you were about to be transported through the clouds by a man with fucking wings. "Wait!" you yelp, peering up at him with a panicked look on your face. Azriel raised his eyebrows, freezing in place.

"Yes?" He asks, drawing out the word with a teasing inflection in his voice. His eyes were patient but he wore an amused smirk, his attention now solely fixated on your plump parted lips. I wonder how much of my cock I can fit in that pretty little mou—

"There's no pre-flight safety lecture?" You never thought you would miss the condescendence of flight attendants so much. You would have given anything for an espresso martini and a blanket and maybe one of those bags of miniature pretzels, your stomach growled at the thought.

"Hold on?" Azriel tries, that same amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You let out a less than satisfied noise and he chuckles quietly. "I don't take many new passengers," he admits sheepishly. He didnt mind all the stalling so much, it meant he got to relish in your scent for a little longer, usually humans didnt smell this good.

"Wow you are really making me feel sooo much better, thank you for that," you utter sarcastically, your hand tightly gripping his chest, you could feel the steady beat of his heart under the leather of his, bondage suit? You didnt know. Azriel chuckles again and you fight the urge to shiver at the rumble that traveled through his chest with his laugh.

"The more we sit here and talk about it, the more afraid you'll be," and there is no warning, there is no hey im about to shoot hundreds of feet in the air. There is only wind, and your hair everywhere, and clinging onto Azriel for dear life— and shrieking like you had that time there was an unnaturally large spider that had moved into your walk in closet back home.

"Not fucking cool Azriel," you shout, your voice high over the whipping wind, your eyes are tightly squinted and youre almost glad you can't see his annoyingly amused smirk. "A one, two, three would be nice— and I'd like you to know right now that there isn't going to be a next time," your skin is covered in goosebumps and you were sure if it wasnt for the searing heat of his body you would have been shaking.

"I do love a challenge Bubbles," he dips his head down, and you can feel his nose brush against your scalp, your toes curl involuntarily at the sound of his voice. Raspy and seductive. You squeeze your eyes shut, hell would freeze over before you opened them.

"Never. The. Fuck. Again." You say, and it's a promise, you want to sock him over the head when he only laughs in response. "Im glad youre getting a real good laugh about this," you don't dare to open your eyes, even though that smile was the most dazzling you had ever seen. The only positive side to your current situation was how delicious he smelled.

"Youre fine."

"I think I might pass away."

You don't know how long it's been when you finally land back on the ground, and you hadn't opened your eyes once. No matter how many times Azriel had tried to get you to. "Open your eyes," he instructs, finally setting you down gently onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter open and you take in the sight of the room the two of you were now in. Your lips part slightly at the size of the bed, it was four poster super vintage looking, and the largest bed you had ever seen. There wasnt much beside the bed in the room, large windows, long curtains that hung almost from floor to ceiling and a large glass door that lead to the balcony. A single table on one side with an array of weapons, none of them guns you noticed. And a very tall wardrobe on the other side of the room. Despite the quality of the furniture it was horribly monochromatic.

"Im going to have to hide you here— For now," he looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, you didnt know what you were supposed to say to that. Hiding implied that whatever was outside was dangerous. "I know its not much, my living situation recently became a little more complicated— sometimes its nice to have a place to go that nobody knows about," he explains, his eyes still fixated on you. He didnt feel good about leaving you here all alone, but it was probably the safest place— and he didnt know how Rhys was going to react about a human girl from another world.

No one else had been to Azriels new apartment, he thought it rather ironic that a human girl was the first to see. With Cassian and Nesta fresh off of the bond- and Rhys and Feyre's hands more than full with Nyx... Azriel had just known it was time for a private place of his own. And it was proving to be quite useful now, perhaps a secret little copulation den for the erotic torture of a human girl— no not torture exactly, she would like it, she would be begging—

Your voice interrupted his insolent thoughts. "It's giving serial killer. Like a pop of color maybe? A Himalayan salt lamp? A few throw pillows definitely never hurt anyone," you say before turning around finally to meet his gaze, your heart almost stops, no pookie, youre not hallucinating, his eyes did just get three shades darker.

"Right, well I guess you'll have to help me " he responds before clearing his throat, and you could tell he hadnt really understood. His expression was completely indifferent, but his eyes, a shiver ran up your spine. "Make yourself at home, I'll be back and when I am I'll have food. There's a bathing room down the hall, and you can help yourself to whatever you can find to wear in there- though I'm sure it won't fit," he gestures to the wardrobe, "and I usually sleep nude so you may not find much at all," he adds, one more ghost of a smirk, before leaping off of the balcony and shooting into the sky.

You can't help but watch as he flies away, his enormous wings looking like some crazy CGI shit. You shuddered, remembering that moments ago you had been up there with him. When youre sure hes gone and you know youre alone, you cry. Ugly cry.

a/n: i would literally cut out my kidney with a bread knife and hand it over on a silver platter to be reader hahaha I think I got everyone on the tag list tell me if I missed ya im going to get drunk now

taglist<3: @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @smalljasper289 @cherryinsalemverse @cleverzonkwombatsludge @serxndipity-ipity-blog @blessthepizzaman

#acotar #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #acotar smut #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel fan fiction #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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matchesarelit · 4 months

Text

Imagine If You Will... (Silly, Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader)

REQUEST: I really enjoyed your fic from earlier this month so I'd like to ask for a Spencer Agnew x reader!! Mainly where the office is oblivious to his and the reader's newly established relationship and they start flirting more often, wearing each other's clothes/jewelry, going home together and people start realizing 1 by 1 until the news spreads that they're dating. (including their reactions lol) Thanks :))))

W.C: ~2.4k Warnings: none I think, Reader and Spencer are gd hopeless, the word gigachad, badly crafted memes?

Smosh Masterlist

Waking up on Spencer's couch with a controller in hand and your head draped back over his shoulder was becoming a hobby of yours and the almost immediate creak of your neck was a now familiar ache. Usually, the pair of you had the foresight to set an alarm, or twenty. Today however, you woke to catch the long hand solidly past the six and the other making its way towards nine. That left the pair of you with less than half an hour to get ready and get to work about ten minutes away.

Twisting hurriedly you pat Spencer's chest a few times, the controller long lost to the couch cushions in your haste, 'Hun, wake up, we need to go.'

Rubbing the back of a knuckle over his eye he slowly turned to face you, his voice soft yet rough from sleep and still slightly out of it,

'Huh? What time is it?'

'About twenty-five to nine' His hand hand shifted to rest against his chest, meeting and holding your own as a small smile fell over his features, clearly still a little too out of it to read the situation as it was. Your expression probably wasn't helping, the initial stress had disappeared the moment his lips pulled into that pretty expression, and you had never had the strength to not smile right back at him.

Admittedly it had taken five additional minutes for the pair of you to remember the issue at hand and spring from the sofa, at which point the pair of you had grabbed whatever you could, changed and scrambled to the car. Pulling into the office carpark, you thanked yourself for setting the top you'd brought over out on top of the dresser.

A self to self mental high five that was not at all warranted, a fact that you would only realized as you stepped into the bathroom at work when you went for a tea break later that morning.

Catching sight of yourself, your cheeks immediately grew hot; across your chest, in a vintage font, was the phrase, 'She Bul on my ba until I saur' alongside a gigachad version of the Pokemon underneath. You'd bought the shirt for Spencer a few weeks prior upon stumbling across it on Instagram and thinking it was perfect for the nerdy man that he was.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you beelined for the Games area, scurrying (in the most nondescript way possible, of course) over to Spencer's desk, you immediately began tapping his shoulder until he tugged his headphones from his ears.

'Is everything alright?' Jaw hanging motionless you gestured wildly to the top, your wild eyes begging him to catch on to your not so subtle concern.

'Ha! nice shirt-o-OH WAIT' Eyes blowing wide and brows drawing together you remained silent lost on how to proceed. Although you had yet to discuss keeping your relationship a secret, you hadn't discussed announcing it either, and it had caught the pair of you quite off guard.

'I-I've only worn it once on stream? if that helps? I doubt anyone will realize' at his words you nodded, giving a cursory glance about, you were glad to note that the other two people in the space had headphones on, presumably drowning out the world around them.

It wasn't that you wanted to hide your relationship, and the shirt certainly wasn't the worst way to launch your coupling, that being said it wasn't the best either. I mean c'mon at least something classy like a gigachad Mr. Mime right? A Bulbasaur was just a little silly.

Meeting his eyes with a small grin tugging at your cheeks, you put your hand over his and squeezed lightly, before stepping away, brushing your hands down over the fabric and turning to return to your own desk.

There was only one conclusion to draw and it was one that the pair of you agreed upon that night as he dropped you off at your apartment; there really wasn't any point in putting much effort into hiding your relationship, after all you already knew you were horrible at it.

That much had been revealed weeks into seeing each other, when a stray brightly patterned hair clip wound up tangled in Spencer's hair, the matching one sitting neatly by your temple, a fact you doubted Kiana would ever let the pair of you forget. Especially as that same hair clip had remained on his desk since she had twisted it free it months prior, and she still often feigned looking for the matching one in your hair.

Pulling into the carpark outside of Spencer's apartment, you barely held back your laughter as you leant over and pushed open the car door for him from inside. Watching as he cautiously all but tip-toed closer, arms piled high with a clutter of hard drives and cables in a tangled mess, you raised an eyebrow at the chaos of it all.

Settling himself down with a relieved sigh, he let the balled up hardware sit on his lap resting a hand on top so to keep it in place.

Leaning over once again you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before twisting to grab a bag from the back seat. 'Did you want a bag for that Tangela'd mess?' Unable to dissolve the much-too-happy-with-yourself look on your face you watched in glee as he took in the pun.

'oh god' His exasperated mutter was plainly for show as he shook his smiling head in disbelief, before thanking you as he took the canvas from your hands and began haphazardly shoving the mass inside.

Much too caught up in discussing the date planned for later that week all throughout the drive and as you walked into work, both of you failed to notice the print on the side of the bag that was soon emptied out and folded on his desk awaiting that evening when he'd give it back.

Marcus, however, in light of the copier breaking down, had been asked to trek to the local Staples and make some copies and soon spotted the folded tote on his way to the door.

'Hey Spencer, would I be able to borrow that bag for a copy run?' Peering around his monitor, Spencer looked from Marcus to the bag and back again before finding his voice, 'Oh um, this is-'

Stepping into the room and catching on quite fast you spoke up, unintentionally, and yet mercifully, cutting Spencer off, 'That one's mine, of course you can borrow it!'

Standing just outside of the kitchen with your umpteenth mug of whatever sachet you had picked up, possibly a soup, you watched Spencer chuck the bag over and watched as the other man caught it and left the building with it tucked under his arm.

Looking all around her desk, you and Erin were searching for her bag, a tote not unlike your own, that had been lost in the chaos of the day, but with her phone on the verge of dying the pair of you had sprung into action. Venturing further and further from her desk as time went on, you found yourself by the assortment of boxes in the corner while Erin searched near the door. Just as she opened her mouth to call the search a failure, Marcus stepped back into the office, bag slung over his shoulder.

'Hey is there any chance that bag is my one?' She was clearly hopeful but that was a fleeting moment as she cut off his response,

'No its uh-'

'oh don't worry. This is definitely yours, isn't it?' The question was yelled across the space at you, a point you only noticed when you looked back at the cacophony to find her eyes already looking in your direction. Walking over you were lost as to how a nondescript tote-

Nevermind.

Illuminated momentarily by Erin's camera flash, across the side of the bag was a graphic, edited by you, for you. Across a captioned screenshot of parks and rec, you'd put the words, in a horrendous green, 'This is my boyfriend, and my boyfriend's Mtn Dew KickStart' alongside a included picture of the can. It was messy, and hyper-specific and yet it had given you such a good chuckle, you'd elected to pay for it to be printed. A fact you'd completely forgotten when blindly grabbing a bag that morning.

'I-' Your attempts at any explanation, no matter how unnecessary, fell short as you struggled for words. Marcus was in the same boat, now holding the bag up in front of him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he studied the print. Erin however, seemed to have no such problem, tapping a few buttons, locking her phone and spinning on her heel presumably to keep looking for her own bag.

Silly as ever, you thought those few buttons were unrelated, until Spencer make a squawk-like noise from the passenger seat of your car on the drive home. When you pulled over, he accompanied the sound with showing you a story from the main Smosh account, it was of the bag with the text 'Found in the wild. Your soulmate @/spenser?'

Grabbing the balled up bag in the cup holder you handed it to him, at which point you returned to the open road, not missing the little, 'So true' that came from the man next to you.

You'd just switched on the kettle when Tommy stepped into the office kitchen, grabbing a mug of his own and perching beside you against the island.

'Hey so my car is in the shop, would I be able to grab a lift home tonight?'

You and Tommy had spoken many times in the past regarding your shared suburb, so it wasn't at all a surprise when he asked, and yet you were still stuttering to answer.

'oh uh-'

''its no problem if you can't-'

'Oh no I- We can, I carpooled with Spencer, but I'm sure he wont mind...'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course! I'll just let him know, don't even stress'

Living in the same neighborhood, you and Tommy had given each other lifts and carpooled in the past, but that was before you started spending so much free time with Spencer, something that started almost a full year before you'd actually gotten together. This Included, almost without discussion, your carpooling, despite living in two different areas in opposite directions from the office.

That last aspect, the part that made the whole carpooling situation between the pair of you impractical, was the part that completely slipped both yours and, when you confirmed the change of plans with him, Spencer's minds.

It wasn't until a few minutes after you had slipped inside Spencer's car, Tommy had nestled himself into the backseat, and Spencer had started off in the direction of your area, that any of you had shared a word. The regular flirting that flowed freely over the car ride home, after being bottled up at work, was absent and left the space eerily silent. Until Tommy's head cocked to the side and he addressed Spencer.

'I had no idea you were in our area Spencer, when did you move?'

Spencer was silent for perhaps a beat too long, 'oh I uh-'

'Cause weren't you up north?'

'I... uh... still am' His voice was almost silent towards the end, achieving his goal of leaving Tommy momentarily clueless.

'What?'

Patting a hand on Spencer's shoulder you wordlessly insisted he go on,

'I still do, live up north that is.'

'Then wh- OHHH' In the quiet car his realization was like a siren, thankfully however, it fell away quickly, being immediately replaced with an amused chuckle. His laughter meant Tommy struggled to get out his playful criticism,

''S-so you d-drive like the compl-ete wr-wrong direction t-to t-t-o drop off... oh my god that's s-so silly and so cute b-but so dumb.'

'Not always... sometimes Spencer'll stay at mine or I'll-.' Your defense wasn't nearly as good as you'd thought it was in the moment and was cut off with more laughter and a sarcastic yet good natured, 'y-yeah that makes it make sense,' from the man behind you and a smile from the man by your side.

It might be silly but at this point that was a founding pillar of your relationship, and one you'd long since stopped denying, but that didn't stop you from trying, and failing, to defend yourselves on occasion.

Pulling a headband from your desk drawer, you pushed your hair out of your face and out of the way. It was a common enough occurrence, as was accidentally taking them home and losing them to the abyss, that you had quite a large number squirreled away. In the light of previous occurrences you had moved away from hair clips, cough Kiana cough, to their much less find-their-way-into-your-boyfriends-hair friends, the headband.

That being said, less than an hour later, standing, once again, by the kettle you watched as Spencer brushed hair from his eyes and tucked it behind his ears only for it to fall back in place almost immediately. The struggle was one you knew well, but the pout that his lips pulled into as it happened for the twenty-something-th time, was not something you could abide.

So settling down your mug of freshly made who-knows-what at your desk, you retrieved a headband, one not at all dissimilar to the one currently holding your own locks in place. Walking over to Spencer you tapped the table to get his attention, doubting his ability to see you through the hair he had seemingly relented to.

'Hey...'

'Hey... Come here.' Moving to stand by his side, you spun his chair from under his desk around to face you, running your hands through his hair, pushing it up. Softly pushing his head to hang back, you placed the headband across his forehead, before moving it up to secure his hair in place underneath it. Letting your fingers linger, you considered the moment. It wasn't Mr. Mime classy, but it was definitely a little bit silly and that seemed perfect.

Trailing a hand up past the band and over the back of his head, you rested it on the back of his chair, a movement he met with his cheek nestling against your forearm. Meeting his eyes, you held his gaze as his head tilted down and then back up. A single nod was all you needed as you leant down and pressed your lips to his.

It was nowhere near the first time, but it was the first time that it was accompanied by a call from down the hall, where Ian stood pumping his fist in the air.

'CALLED IT!'

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew imagine #spencer agnew x reader #smosh #smosh x reader

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saltandburnheathens · 6 months

Text

Good morning Miss Winnie. (Part II)

Part I

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

Two weeks after Dean became a father, it's time to jump back on the hunting horse. But he's hesitant.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

“Bonnie?”

You shot Dean a look across the kitchen. He was cooking eggs on the stove while you were nursing. Castiel was the only other member of the bunker awake at six a.m. and, fortunately, occupied the library. It wasn’t that you cared about the other men seeing you breastfeeding, it was how they reacted to it. Both became very awkward and outwardly attempted to look anywhere but at your breasts.

“You can’t accept Winnie, but you pick Bonnie?”

Dean shrugged.

“I was just thinking if we had a boy we could call him Clyde. We’d have our own little gang.”

“Firstly, I’m not doing this again. And secondly, Bonnie and Clyde were felons.”

“What do you mean ‘you’re not doing this again?’ Don’t most women go crazy for more kids? They smell the baby's head and some hoo-doo helps them forget about the pain and bodily fluids.”

“Yeah, well. You try being in labour for damn near forty eight hours and shitting yourself in a room full of people. Including the man you love. Then come back and tell me you’ve forgotten about it and wanna do it all over again.”

“Point taken.” Dean laughed, plating up eggs and bacon for them both, “And you didn’t shit yourself by the way.”

“I didn’t?”

“I think I’d remember.”

You smiled at the plate of food and carefully lifted the baby from your breast. She’d long since stopped feeding and was instead squirming, ready to be winded.

“I can take it from here.” Dean reached down and lifted the little girl up into his arms. He held her upright against his chest and began rubbing circles into her small back, “There we go kiddo. Get it up.”

“Be careful.” You warned.

“I’m not taking any chances.” Dean gestured to the polka-dot muslin cloth on his shoulder.

You watched as he gently walked your daughter around the kitchen, her little body squirming while he cooed into her ear. She made several little squeaking noises, threatening to cry, only to be brought back to earth by her father’s tender voice.

“Come on now, no tears. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes locked with Dean’s for a moment, both reflecting a soft smile. He was proving to be an excellent father, not that you’d doubted him for a second. But Sam had. He’d been very vocal about Dean knowing nothing about babies and how, despite the fact that he was happy for you both, he thought this whole ‘raising a family thing’ was a bad idea.

“You guys are great together! But I don’t think this is the right environment for a kid.” Or something along the same bullshit.

Dean had been adamant about her though. He damn near refused to speak to Sam until he stopped with his questions and logical answers. Sure you both had been sceptical about bringing a child into this life, but neither of you had actively prevented it. If it happened, it happened.

Speaking of the devil. Sam groaned and stretched his arms above his head, stumbling into the kitchen. He dug the palm of his hands into his eyes, drawing them down his face afterwards.

“Morning. Coffee’s in the pot.” Dean said, his voice shifting from Dad to brother by just an octave.

Sam poured himself a hefty mug before offering more to the kitchen. You declined but insisted that he fill up Deans.

“He’ll need the caffeine for your hunt.”

“Oh so you’re back on the job then?” Sam questioned, his eyebrows rising.

Dean’s brow furrowed as he shifted the little one on his chest. He searched her face, the cogs visibly turning in his head.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

“What? I thought you’d be happy to get back on the horse.” You’d assumed that after being out of work for almost two weeks that Dean would be craving a hunt, but his face said otherwise.

“Yeah. I mean I am. But she - “

“She’ll be right here when you get back.” You interrupted, “It’s a simple in and out job. Right Sam?”

“Sure. Run of the mill ghost in the attic for some old friend’s of Bobby’s.” Sam took a lengthy sip of his coffee, “And it pays too.”

“See? And we could use the cash for Winnie.”

Sam scoffed, barely holding onto the coffee in his mouth. He looked between you both and then to his niece.

“Winnie?”

“Short for Winchester but not her name. Just a placeholder until we find the perfect one.” You inform, “But what’s so wrong with Winnie anyway? It’s a perfectly acceptable name.”

“Nothing wrong with it at all. It’s just not what I pictured you both to come up with.”

“Fortunately it’s not.” Dean added, shifting the baby from one arm to the other as she reached up with her little hands, “As for the hunt, I’m not sure.”

He offered a finger for her hand to close around, eyes never leaving her. the features on his face softened, lips almost pulling downwards into a frown.

You exchanged a knowing look with Sam.

“If this is about Win- her- you don’t need to worry. I can cope fine on my own for one night.” You offered

“Yeah but what if it isn’t just one evening?” Dean answered, his voice doing nothing to disguise the concern he was feeling.

“It’s only a few towns over. We’ll be home by four am - ”

“But what if something goes wrong? Huh? Then what? I’ve left my wife without a husband, my little girl without a father. And -”

You jumped to your feet at the distress in his voice and rushed to loop an arm around his middle.

“Don’t say that. It’s a run of the mill job, something you guys have done one thousand times over. Nothin’ bad is gonna happen other than a few bruises.” You laid your head on his shoulder, eyes coming to settle on the little lady in his arms, “I can deal with those. And she’ll not know any different.”

With a deep sigh, Dean kissed you gently on the head. It was an uncharacteristic display of affection, especially in front of his brother, but you hadn’t the heart to react. You knew he was feeling vulnerable, that much was clear in his reaction, and to draw attention to it would only make things worse. Instead you settled against him and allowed his warmth and the soothing sounds of your baby to still your own anxiety.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that some part of you was fearful of your husband walking out of the bunker and never coming home. Hunting was a dire job, one which had claimed the life of many of your comrades. Dean may be an experienced hunter, renowned in his own right, but he certainly wasn’t immune to unfortunate outcomes. That much had been proven time and time again.

Lost in thought, the only sounds in the kitchen were the gentle fussing of your daughter and the whirring of the circulation fans.

Finally Castiel broke the silence with his sudden entrance. He appeared in a flurry of feathers, one coming to land on the table top by your abandoned coffee cup.

“We have doors, Cas. Use ‘em.” Dean warned, pulling your daughter closer to his chest as she began to fuss.

“I’m sorry, Dean. It’s a force of habit.” Castiel answered, taking a seat next to Sam, “I startled her.”

“You think?!”

You moved to take the baby from Dean but he shook his head, whispering a small ‘I got this’ back to you as he started to rock her from side to side. But it was no good, her cries grew louder and more furious. You began to wonder how those big sounds could even come from such a small creature.

Before you could offer your help again Castiel brushed past you.

“I didn’t mean to scare her.” He said, coming to stand in front of Dean “Is there anything I can do?”

“Here” to your surprise, Dean held your daughter out towards the angel, “You can settle her down while I grab her diaper bag.”

You lean in and quickly sniff.

“I don’t think she needs changed, D.”

“Well I don’t know what else to do. She -”

Castiel reached forward and lifted the infant from Dean. He brought her to settle in the crook of his arm, offering up his fingers for her to grab at. Gradually she began to quiet, her hands reaching up for Castiel’s and her eyes wide, staring into his face.

You and Dean watched on in outward confusion. Castiel, to your knowledge, had never handled a baby before. At least not in recent years.

“How did you do that?” Dean asked almost aggressively, “She was cryin’ up a storm seconds ago and you just took her and nothing.”

“Did you use your grace?” Sam suggested.

“She’s much too small to handle my grace in any capacity. It would kill her.”

You considered jumping in and taking her from Castiel but stopped yourself. She was settled and happily holding onto the angel's fingers. No sense in ruining it. Beside you Dean was tense, clearly struggling with something along the same lines. His face was etched in hard lines and you could see his brows furrowing.

Gently you looped your arm through his and guided him to his long forgotten coffee cup. He moved but his eyes never left you daughter in the angel’s arms.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, “About this hunt.”

“What about it?” Dean glared at him over the rim of his cup.

“Are you in or -”

“He’s in.” You answer before the question could even be finished.

“Wha - I -”

“Oh come on. You got this. I can handle her and Cas will be here if I need any help. Right Cas?” The angel gave something akin to a positive response, “You have to get back out there at some point.”

Dean’s gaze flickered from Sam to you, finally coming to land on Castiel. He watched the angel gently swaying the little girl in his arms and the lines on his face began to soften.

“Hmmm. You’re sure about this?” He asked.

“Positive.”

“If there’s any trouble, anything at all, you call me.”

“Sure.” You smiled, “But I doubt Winnie will be as much of an issue as your malevolent spirit.”

Dean chuckled, accompanied by Sam.

“God, we’re really going to have to talk about her name when I get back.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dad!dean winchester #dad!dean

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chevelleneech · 2 months

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I know I ship Jikook and it’s as unconfirmed as literally any other ship, but to ask me what I think about a “he said, she said” relationship sparked by fans of someone dating a BTS member, with ZERO foundation, is ridiculous.

Of course Jungkook could be dating someone I’ve never heard of even in passing rumors, but the same people who believe he’s with every other woman he comes into contact with, are the same people who think him dating Jimin (someone he’s known and shown physical and emotional affection for, for years) is far fetched and delusional.

Y’all have name dropped at minimum like six different women JK was dating over the last two years, but you draw the line at a man. THE SAME MAN who gave him a hickey. THE SAME MAN he sucked on the ear of. THE SAME MAN he sent a flirtatious birthday message to. THE SAME MAN he spent hours giggling over on multiple livestreams. THE SAME MAN he flirted with and propositioned while on a livestream. THE SAME MAN he chose to spend 18 months attached at the hip to.

I’m not saying anyone has to believe Jimin and Jungkook are anything more than best friends and bandmates, but the hypotheticals gotta stop. If you think he’s with someone else, so be-it, but don’t come asking me if I do. Until I have a reason to shift my thinking, I’m going to assume Jungkook likes best the man he’s always talking to, about, or is with. Plain and simple.

#jikook #jimin and jungkook

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blessedbucky · 3 months

Text

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 2)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 6k!

summary: a glimpse into the time before tokyo

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, ableism, internalized ableism, mentioned child abuse, mentioned bullying, mentioned homophobia

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again

author note: i'm not going to stay this every single chapter, but just as a reminder, autism is a spectrum! i was a late in life diagnosis. like, i literally got diagnosed two-ish years ago at 30. so, i don't know what it was like to live a childhood with an actual diagnosis. i know, for most parents, their kid getting a diagnosis isn't the end of the world. i've done a lot of research on how autism is received in japan and it's a lot of mixed reviews. i can only imagine that living in a super tiny town isn't easy for anyone seen as "other" (LGBT, neurodivergent, sorcerers in regards to the JJK world). so, yeah, there's my disclaimer!

translation note: jiheishō is the japanese term for autism

oops done forgot to link part one

oops part duex here's the ao3 link

[SIX.]

“Jiheishō?”

Oh. There’s that word again.

Mother took you on another trip to the special doctor that’s all the way in the city. It takes a long, long time to drive there. Two hours, Mother said, when you asked. You wanted to ask her if she remembered how many times you’ve been to the doctor, but you can only ask one question on special doctor days. Mother has been really sad. You don’t want to make her sadder because you ask lots of stupid questions.

Is Father this sad, too? You wish that you could hug him like you do Mother, but you don’t see him a lot. He doesn’t like to talk to you as much anymore. He must be tired. He’s a farmer and works really hard. You were really happy when he came with you and Mother to the special doctor once.

“Absolutely not!” Father’s voice is loud. You drop your crayon because you got spooked. You’re outside with crayons and the special paper that’s colorful and feels really nice on your fingers. Before you went home, the special doctor let you take all your drawings home. “That’s what that quack came up with?! And you accepted that?! We spent all our money for that?!”

“Dear, please,” Mother says in that way that means she’s crying now. You want to go hide. It’s because of you. “Don’t you think this is the best outcome? We were scared that she had some kind of brain injury! The doctor said that the things that she’s been seeing are imaginary friends, that’s all. She has poor emotional regulation and an overactive imagination, so if we teach her what she can and can’t say—”

“What do you mean better?!” There’s a loud bang that makes you jump. “If she was sick in the head in some other way, we could medicate her! How do we treat this, huh?! What are we supposed to tell people? Do you know the position this puts us in now? This is an embarrassment on both our families! Our daughter will be no better than that Geto boy!”

Father is really, really, really mad. He’s super loud, too. It makes your head hurt more. The hospital had a lot of people, was really bright, and there was so much noise. You don’t know how, but you hurt Mother and Father, and that makes your heart hurt worse than your head. You guess this is because of what the doctor said. He said what was wrong with you, even if you didn’t know what it meant. Before he could tell you what it means, Mother said that she and Father would talk to you about it. She said that it wasn’t the doctor’s place.

You’re dumb. You should’ve known you hurt her when she got in the car after leaving the doctor and cried a long time.

Too scared to be seen by Father right now, you decide to leave. If he sees you, he’ll keep yelling, and you’ll cry. This might make him happier, anyway. He says that he wants you to be more normal. Normal boys and girls go play, right? You don’t have people friends, but you don’t think that matters. You just have to be gone from home until the sun sets. If Father asks where you went, it won’t be a lie to say you were playing with friends.

You walk along the rock road between farms to get to the forest where the river lives. No one waves to you like they do Mother and Father. You know they think you’re weird because your classmates think it, too. It’s not your fault that you have different friends than them. You think they’re jealous that they don’t have as many as you.

Oh!

There are special animals!

Just as they’re about to fly away in the forest, you see a big group of them. These ones look like cute squids!

If you think really hard and call for them like you see classmates do with cats or dogs then the special animals will come see you, but these don’t. “Wait!” They don’t hear you, either. They’re too far away. So, you give chase. You want to touch them and hold them like nothing else. You know it’s mean, but you’ve never seen special animals as cute as these before!

Will these feel like real squid or cooked? You hope it’s real squid. That would be so cool! Maybe you haven’t ever touched a real one, but you have eaten squid, and you hate it. It’s so gross inside your mouth that you throw up whenever Mother makes it. Not even takoyaki can make it better.

You’re on the side of the river when you catch up with the squids. You almost get bonked on the head by something. They’re all dropping stuff on the ground. Fruits and vegetables. They’re dirty and have fur on the end that Father told you were roots. It’s like the squid stole them from the farms. The squids hover in the air, even if they dropped their food. You take the chance to leap up and grab one of them.

You’re squealing at how slimy the squid feels when someone shouts, “Hey!”

All the rest of the squids float over to a boy that’s stomping out of some bushes. You know this boy. He’s the tallest in your class, but also the skinniest. His black hair is at his shoulders and messy. He’s the very first in your class to lose a tooth. He’s making a mean face, so you can see the hole in his teeth. This is Geto Suguru and he’s the only other person in class that people don’t like, though you don’t know why since no one talks to you.

“Let my squid go!” Geto shouts.

Your eyes widen. “You can see them, too?!”

“Yeah. Just like you can, I guess.” Geto walks to stand in front of you and yanks the squid you’re squeezing. “You’re not allowed to eat any of these! This is my food, and these are my squids!”

You’re confused. “Are those regular squids? Do regular squids fly? You only eat regular squids, right?”

Geto squints his eyes at you. “Are you stupid?” He shakes his head. “No. Ocean squids can’t fly. I’m talking about the ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” You tilt your head, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. Suddenly, a black hole opens next to Geto’s head, and a new special animal comes out. This one looks like a really big, ugly fly with teeth and eyes. You have seen these kinds around before. “That’s a ghost? I thought those are special animals.”

Another black hole opens. This special animal has a mushroom-shaped head with a little body and wings. “How does that even look like an animal, dummy? Most of them don’t look like the squids.”

“I know that!” Your cheeks puff out. You’re not dumb. He is! Ugh. Why did you think that he would be different than the rest of your classmates? Everyone calls you stupid! “I call them that because they come when I do. It’s like other kids and their pets. I can do the…the…psst, psst, psst thing.”

Geto finally loses the angry face. Now, he’s confused like you were before. “Huh? You mean…they listen to you?” He points at the bruise on his cheek. “I have to fight them before I can eat them. After I eat them, then they listen to me.”

“You eat them?”

“You don’t?”

“No!”

Maybe you are stupid, but so is he. The two of you stand there and look at each other while you think hard about what you learned. You can both see the invisible things that no one else can. Are there other people like you and him? There has to be! And they all are special because you and Geto are. They come when you call. Geto eats them.

At the same time, you both shout at each other, “Show me!”

“Whoa.” Geto holds his hand out to let you touch the black ball that he turned the ghost animal into.

It took you and him walking up and down the river to find a ghost animal that wasn’t already his pet. He watched with wide eyes and a mouth dropped open as you clapped and called to make the ghost animal come to you. Geto wanted to fight it, but you told him that he didn’t need to do that because it wasn’t going to hurt either of you now. You know that they can be mean when they don’t know the other person, but they don’t fight you.

Then, you were the excited one as you watched Geto show his power. It was bright, but it was so cool that you didn’t even care about that. It’s kind of like the special ghost turned into ashes, just breaking apart before it spun in circles, and it finally formed into a little black ball that Geto now holds.

“That was so pretty!” You’re so excited that you’re waving your arms. “It was so cool, too!” His cheeks are red. He looks away when he pushes the ball in your face. Grinning, you reach for it, but instead of getting to feel the ball, your hand goes through it and lands on his hand. “Oh.” You poke his hand. “Aw, it didn’t work.”

“Eh?” Geto blinks. He pulls his hand away, making sure that his ball didn’t go away completely, and it didn’t. He curls his hand around it over and over. “I guess only I can do it.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Just like only I don’t get hurt by them.”

“But we can both make them do what we say.”

“No,” you stretch the word out. “Um, it’s weird. They don’t see me unless I call for them. And I can make them not hurt me or anyone else and…stay there. But that’s kinda it, really.” You rock back and forth. “I guess I just make them not angry.”

Geto looks at you for a long time without saying anything.

It starts bothering you, getting stared at. You ask, “What is it?”

“Will you help me get bigger ones? You don’t have to do anything but make them be quiet like you did here,” Geto says. “It’s hard for the little ones to get bigger food for me.”

“Why don’t you ask grown-ups to get bigger food for you if the ghost animals can’t?”

Geto kicks some rocks into the water. He doesn’t look at you anymore. “Because I’m not asking for any of that food, dummy.”

“But…that’s stealing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Geto whispers. “My folks don’t give me food.”

You’re the one that doesn’t say anything for a long time. That makes your heart hurt. Parents are supposed to feed their kids, aren’t they? Sometimes, yours don’t, but that’s because your body is being bad. Mother works hard to make meals and you don’t appreciate that when your body makes you throw up the gross feeling food.

Would Mother and Father let Geto eat instead of you? Geto would probably like Mother’s food more than you. But…no. Father says that he doesn’t like Geto. He thinks that Geto is weird, too. Father might get even madder at you if you tell him that you and Geto are friends.

Kids are supposed to eat. It’s really, really important, your teachers say when you don’t want to eat lunch for the day. That would make it okay if Geto takes some food, right? Farms are big, anyway. Some animals go digging for food. You know that because Father said so. What’s different between a deer and a ghost animal taking food?

“You have to pay me for it,” you finally say.

Geto nods excitedly. “Anything!”

You hold out a hand to him. “I’ll help you if you be my friend.”

[FOURTEEN.]

“You’ve been crying.”

When Suguru cups your cheek and wipes at the tear stains with his thumb, you shrug him away. Not because you don’t want to be touched, but because you don’t want to dwell on what caused said tears. “I brought takoyaki,” you mumble as you slip your backpack off your shoulder. “Had to take a bite, but I know you don’t care about the germs.” Said takoyaki balls are wrapped in a napkin that you pass over to him.

“I almost don’t want to out of spite,” Suguru mutters under his breath.

“Then what? Should I throw it away? They’ll check the trash or check the yard to see if I buried it.” Hugging your knees to your chest, you put your forehead against your knees. “Eat it, please. I just want this whole ordeal to be over, okay?”

“Aren’t you too old for them to be forcing you to sit at the table?” Suguru keeps complaining as he digs into the takoyaki balls with gusto. He tries to be casual about it, but you’ve been best friends for almost ten years. You know when his parents haven’t been letting him eat.

“Aren’t you too old to be asking these stupid questions?” You turn your head to the side to quietly study him. It was nearing midnight when he came knocking on your window. The makeup from the day has rubbed off, so you can see the ugly bruise yellowing on his cheek. “Aren’t you too old to be hanging out with the weird chick? You know it makes their mood worse when they hear I made a scene.”

Suguru chuckles darkly. “They’d find another fuckin’ reason to get pissed off, trust me.”

“How’d we end up with the shittiest parents in this stupid village?”

“Everyone has secrets. They’re cruel to their children, to their spouses, to each other. Just like you and I do, they have their masks, but word gets around. You just don’t pay attention.” He reaches over to flick your exposed nose. “Did you hear about what happened with Endo Iyo’s father? His mistress from a village over showed up on their doorstep, saying she’s pregnant with his child.”

“Eh? No wonder she was such a cunt at school today.”

Suguru laughs quietly. “You’re awful, Squid.”

“Says the person that’s dishing out the gossip.”

“Okay, you got me there.” Suguru stabs the last takoyaki ball with his skewer. Before he takes a bite, he asks, “I’m surprised you’re not saying worse about her. Do you want to talk about what happened today? I heard that you and Endo got into a screaming match in the girls’ locker room.”

“All the mean shit that I had to say about her, I said to her face.” He snickers but stops when you go on to explain, “She was talking about doing mean things to you.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “I overheard her and all her little friends scheming. She said that when we start high school, she’s going to pretend to confess her love for you. She said that you’re such a desperate loser that you’d accept.”

Suguru doesn’t have much to say about that. He tosses the napkin away. You watch as, one by one, he licks the sticky residue of takoyaki sauce away from his fingers. He’s staring at you thoughtfully while he does. For some reason, it leaves you flustered, so you duck your head back down.

“Is that what upset your parents?” You nod miserably. “That was sweet, Squid, but you didn’t have to go through that for me. I know you hate to yell. But…you didn’t think that I would believe her if she said something like that, did you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Or…maybe you’d use her like she wanted to use you. We’re at that age, y’know. I hear guys talk about getting a hand up girls’ skirts and stuff.”

Suguru groans loudly. You glance over at him and he’s so disgusted that it makes you huff in amusement. “How low is your opinion of me? I have tastes.”

“How do you even know what your tastes are? Everyone our age is gross.”

“You’re not gross.”

“I wasn’t talking about me and you, obviously.” You unwrap your arms from around your legs, letting them drop. You shuffle around to cross your legs instead. “We start high school next year,” you whisper more to yourself than him. “I guess that I do have to start thinking about that stuff, huh?”

He makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat. “You actually don’t.”

“It’s what normal teenagers do, though, right? Girls think about making love confessions to the guys they have crushes on. They want to date.” You bite on your bottom lip. “That cunt, Endo…she even talked about swindling you into taking her to a big city to book a room at a love hotel. She thinks you have a big dick because you’re so tall. That’s when I snapped.”

“Oh. That was nice of her to say.”

“Suguru! Ugh!” You can’t even believe that he would praise her like that. Suguru is your best friend! This asshole is supposed to be on your side here! “Don’t be thankful for that! One day, you’ll meet a nice girl who will wax poetic about your dick and mean it!”

“Or boy.”

“Or boy—” you blink. Slowly, you turn your head. Suguru is pointedly not looking at you. Because he’s nervous. Your kneejerk reaction is to be hurt that he’s waited this long to tell you, but you understand why. During your first year of middle school, word got around that Kimura Kaito liked boys, and he left for the city without even graduating. “Or boy,” you reaffirm. “I can kind of forgive you for taking Endo’s compliment. It sucks that someone so hot is such a bitch.”

The tension in the air eases. With flushed cheeks and a laugh, he gives you a light shove. “How much did it pain you to lie like that?”

“I wasn’t, though?”

“Oh.”

“I thought you knew,” you admit. “Didn’t I tell you about the day that I was with my mother in the city? It was two years ago, I think? I saw an ad at the subway station with this model and said it’d be nice if she was my wife. My mom slapped me so hard that I knocked my head against a wall and busted it open.”

“No!” At Suguru’s shout, you immediately shush him. Sure, your house is bigger than his, but it’s not that big. He’ll wake your parents if he keeps this up. “I saw that and tried to ask you about it, but you didn’t say shit,” he hisses in a much quieter voice than before.

Oops. “Well, that’s what happened.”

Suguru tilts his head back, looking up at the starry skies. “We’re kind of perfect for each other, Squid. Have you ever thought about that? We see the same things. We were raised the same. We like the same things…”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” you agree.

Just the thought of a life without Suguru in it makes your chest tight with panic. This is the exact same spiral that you had before you two entered middle school. You were so exhausted that first week of middle school because terror kept you awake all the nights before. You dreaded the change. You thought that, somehow, the rest of the kids in the village would finally figure out how amazing a person Suguru is and take him away from you. Now that you think about it, that might be part of the reason why you exploded on Endo. Maybe she joked about it, but what if someone else didn’t?

“Squid—”

“Suguru—” you stop when you realize that you and he started to talk at the same time. Since it feels like you’ve dominated the whole conversation tonight, you meekly offer, “You first.”

“Do you…” Suguru trails off. Whatever he wants to say, he doesn’t know how to get it out. You patiently wait. It’s like he goes through a lot of emotions, one after the other. Finally, there’s a defeated slump to his shoulders. “It sounds like it was a hard day for you.” He has such a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you want to help me catch the ghost animal that I found last week?”

“You went manta ray riding without me?” You can’t help but pout about that.

“Sorry, sorry. I needed some time alone, that’s all.”

Yeah, okay, you understand that. For you, there are days when it’s simply too hard to even talk. So, you don’t dwell on that any longer. You move the conversation forward as if he never said it at all. “We’ll be so exhausted tomorrow,” you warn.

“It’ll be worth it.” Suguru rises to his feet. Holding out a hand to you, he grins wickedly, and declares, “It’s a dragon.”

“You couldn’t have said that earlier?!” You’re so excited that you scramble to your feet yourself. In your excitement, you almost forget that it’s midnight, and everyone else is asleep. Suguru puts a finger to his lips to remind you to be quiet. Eyes bright and vibrating with delight, you whisper-shout, “Let me grab my sketchbook!”

“Reminds me of Hong.”

“Hong?”

“It’s a rainbow dragon from Chinese mythology!”

“You choose to focus on the most random things,” Suguru mumbles. You elbow him in the ribs as a rebuke. He doesn’t even flinch. Since when did this skinny kid get so damn buff? Oh, from his asshole father making his kid do farm work in his place, that’s how. “What makes you think this is…whoever? Hong?”

“You can’t see it?” Hmm, well, you two do only have moonlight and flashlights to guide your way. There’s no electricity left in this old factory. “Here.” You take the flashlight from Suguru and wave it from side to side so that the light catches off the white dragon’s scales and the iridescent sheen that bounces off them. “See? Rainbow!”

Suguru steps forward to glide his fingers over the dragon’s hide. With a hum, he takes the blunt end of the flashlight and knocks it against the scales. The clang echoes in the silence. “It’s so odd that such a tough creature went down so easy.” He looks over his shoulder at you, brows knitted in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I might fall asleep on the way home,” you admit. It’s the dead of winter, but you had to take your puffy coat and the sweater under that off because you were burning with exertion. You won’t complain, though. This has really helped get out all that excess energy that’s bubbled up inside you all day.

“Oi!”

Both you and Suguru freeze at the sound of a human voice. At the entrance to the factory, there are a group of people. There’s one older man that’s dressed in a suit while the other three appear to be high schoolers—on the cusp of graduation, you’d say, based off how old they look. None of them are from around here. Those uniforms definitely don’t belong to your school. Not even from any other schools in your district. You’re not even sure they’re from your prefecture.

And maybe the sight of them wouldn’t be so alarming. Like you and Suguru, they could be some kids looking to goof around at spooky, supposedly haunted places…but one of them has a weapon. Seriously. The boy with spiky brown hair and a toothpick sticking out of his mouth has a katana drawn.

“Get away from that thing!” Katana Boy shouts.

You don’t know if they’re yakuza or some kind of serial killer group or whatever, and you don’t want to find out. Both you and Suguru act. Normal people can’t see ghost animals, but people can still be touched by them. You and Suguru has fucked around with ghost animals enough to know that. So, when Suguru throws an arm out and the rainbow dragon follows, the entire group is tackled by an invisible force.

Heart racing, you throw yourself against Suguru’s side, and the ground falls out from underneath you both after Suguru summons his manta ray. As soon as Suguru gets you both far away enough, he’ll let the rainbow dragon go. After Suguru swallows them, they’ll never leave him again, no matter how far he may go.

And as soon as you’re far away enough, you can freely shout, “What do we do now?!”

“It’s fine,” Suguru tries to assure you. “It’s fine. Take a deep breath.” How can he say that to you when there’s a rapid rise and fall in his chest, too? “Look, there—” he hesitates as he scrambles for a plan. “We won’t ever go back that way, okay? We were in another district, so they would start the search there, anyway. But why would they bother to look for us? What would they tell the authorities? They’d be admitting to crimes of their own!”

“Yes! Right! Okay!” The logic helps calm down the frantic racing of your mind and body. Because he’s right. He is. Those other teenagers would be looked at as crazy as everyone does you and Suguru—wait. Wait. “Katana Guy…he said to get away from that thing. Did he mean Hong? Could that guy see Hong?!”

“No, Squid!” Suguru shakes his head. He knows exactly where you’re going. “We are not going back there! Who cares if they can see what we do? If one of them had a katana, you think the others didn’t have weapons of their own? Whatever they wanted, it’s no good.”

“There are other people like us, though!” It’s starting to process in your mind. This makes your heart soar higher than this manta ray could possibly go. You’re still draped across Suguru’s lap. You pull at his shirt, yanking him away from his thoughts, forcing him to look down at you. “There are other people like us!”

“There…” Suguru’s eyes widen. The epiphany finally reaches him, too. “There are other people like us,” he repeats breathlessly.

“Let’s leave!” The grin on your face is infectious. You are both high off adrenaline and elation. “Suguru, I don’t care if we have to live on the streets…as soon as we graduate, we’re leaving here. We’re getting away from everyone in our shitty village. Let’s run until we find more people like us!”

Suguru holds up his pinky between your bodies. You immediately hook your own around it. “Yes,” he swears. “You and me, Squid. We’ll run and never look back.”

Little did you know, a week later, you and Suguru are given your destination to run toward.

Side by side, you and Suguru walk down the gravel road that leads to your homes. Halfway home, there’s a sleek black car that blocks the road. They’re not from this village because no one has a car as nice as that. You and Suguru plan to go around it, just assuming it’s for one of the farmers. It’s unusual but not rare. Sometimes, corporate lackeys come slinking in to try and buy up farmland.

The back doors of the car open and, with growing dread, you realize that those people are here for you and Suguru. Katana Guy steps out of the car, rubbing the back of his neck, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. He’s not armed, thankfully. If you scream, will neighbors come running? They may ridicule you and Suguru, but this village protects their own. So, you could make a scene.

“Yeah, that’s them,” Katana Guy loudly announces while he looks over his shoulder at the other person stepping out of the car.

An unfamiliar voice calls out your name, followed by, “Geto Suguru.” There’s a big man that walks around to step up by Katana Guy’s side. This man wears thin, sporty sunglasses. His brown hair is a buzz, shaved close to his head. He’s got a mustache-goatee combo thing going, too. “Don’t be scared. We’re here to talk.”

Behind you, there’s the tale tell sound of Suguru’s rift opening. Nothing gets brought out, though, when you hold out an arm as a motion for him to stop and think. There’s an audience. This isn’t like it was the other night. The neighbors can’t see the ghost animals, but they can see the damage that’s done. They can feel the damage that’s done. Feelings for them aside, it’d bring up too many questions if a bunch of people died. That’s why Katana Guy and his gang aren’t doing anything, either.

“If you have anything to say, talk with our parents,” you state bluntly.

Sunglasses Guy approaches you and Suguru slowly. Suguru takes the arm that you still have held out and tries to tug you behind him protectively. You don’t go. Instead, you just hold his hand tightly, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Sunglasses Guy stops when you and Suguru start backing up. On each side of the road, farmers are putting their tools down and walking to meet you.

“My name is Yaga Masamichi,” Sunglasses Guy introduces himself. “I’m a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High School.”

Suguru scoffs. “What? Are you here to offer us a spot?”

“Yes, actually,” Yaga answers. “I will speak with your parents, but I can’t give them the whole truth. They’ve never believed you when you told them, have they?” Your hand squeezes tighter as if to say to him, see! See! Just like us! “Behind me is one of our third-years, Kusakabe Atsuya. He says that you two took care of the spirit.”

“Spirit?” Suguru and you repeat at the same time. You think you know what he means, so you ask, “The dragon?”

“Yes.” Yaga nods. “That thing you encountered, the things that you’ve seen your entire life—those are what we called cursed spirits.”

It’s weird. It doesn’t even take that long for Yaga to bust wide open the door to a whole other world. It’s not super detailed, it can’t be because you’re on a time limit with suspicious neighbors, but it’s enough to comfort you and Suguru. You’re told about the foundation of jujutsu—cursed energy that births cursed spirits and the sorcerers that wield it. That’s what you and Suguru are, he tells you. You’re jujutsu sorcerers.

“The school that I teach at…we teach those like you how to hone and strengthen their techniques. We train them to become full-fledged sorcerers that will go on to save lives that cursed spirits threaten,” Yaga explains. “You’ll meet people like you. There are two others that would be coming in with you next year if you decide to enroll.”

“Yes,” Suguru blurts.

“Suguru,” you hiss. To Yaga, you demand, “Come back and be less suspicious about it. We’ll talk more then.”

Yaga accepts this with a nod.

When Yaga and his shady car is gone, Suguru stares at you as if you’ve grown another head. A neighbor calls out your surname, then Suguru’s, but you ignore them by stomping forward down the road. You’re tired of being looked at. Suguru allows himself to be dragged by the hand, but he’s still trying to press you.

Suguru says your name. “This is our way out!”

You’re exhausted. You want to go home, but Suguru’s not going to let this go easy. When you two are far away enough, you stop, and whirl around to face him.

“Did you even listen to what he said? The ghost—these cursed spirits—” all these emotions are starting to overwhelm you. It’s got your hands shaking. “Saving people means these things are dangerous enough to kill us. That’s…that’s scary! What if we fail? How could I live with myself if someone dies because of me?” Your throat is clogging up with emotion. “I want to leave, I do, but I don’t want to fight. I just want to understand!”

Maybe Suguru thinks it’ll make you feel better, but it makes you feel dismissed when he says, “That won’t happen. I’ll always be there to protect you.”

“How does that make things better? Do you not get that the thought of that makes me even more scared?!” You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. Your bottom lip quivers. “What if you get hurt because of me? What if you die because of me, Suguru? What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Squid, if we don’t leave now then we never will. We’ll be stuck here, doing nothing with our lives.”

“Go be a hero without me, then!”

“No,” Suguru answers flatly. “We both go, or we both stay.”

It’s too much pressure. The day weighs down and so does Suguru’s clear manipulation. You explode. “You’re such a piece of shit! This is so selfish! You’re making me decide your future, so I end up being the asshole if I make you stay here when you definitely don’t want to!”

“You don’t want to, either! But you’d rather stay here and let yourself be a punching bag for everyone because you’re scared shitless of change!” When you’re angry at each other, you both get nasty. “Oh, what is poor Squid gonna do if there’s even one little change to her day-to-day? How would she ever survive if something different happened for a change?!”

“Oh, what is poor Suguru gonna do if he doesn’t have someone to take care of out of pity?!”

“Pity?!”

“You heard me!” As you’re storming away, you throw over your shoulder, “Now, leave me the hell alone!”

Normally, crying the way you did when you got home to your room would exhaust you enough to let you sleep the whole night through. Your mind and body don’t want to do that tonight, though. You’re hyperaware of everything—the weight and scratch of clothes against your skin, the constant shudder of your thin window as the harsh winter winds bashes against it, the rattle of the heater in the corner of the room. You have to have a tough debate with yourself over whether to strip all the way down to your panties or to bear the burden of this weight against your skin. It boils down to being kept awake by cold or by fucking clothes because that’s the perk of having a brain like yours.

Can the day get worse? There’s only two minutes to midnight, but you’ve never had luck on your side.

For five minutes, you watch the bright, red numbers of your alarm clock intently. Is this like…what’s that American saying? If you watch the minutes pass by, is it like counting sheep? Will that keep your mind off the guilt that sits heavy in your chest like a stone?

That Yaga guy will be back. What if Suguru sees him before you? What will Suguru say? Will he finally give up on you or will he give up on the chance to break free from his parents and this awful village? You hate both options. It doesn’t matter which one you think about, they both replace that guilt inside your chest with panic.

At this point, you have to decide which option will be the least painful.

And isn’t that a shitty summarization of your life?

What’s worse? Gagging as you try to force down food that you hate the texture of or face your parents’ wrath? Gritting your teeth through days where even an overcast is enough to make your eyes burn or deal with the punishment for skipping school to curl up somewhere dark? Living with a low burn of panic as you let people surround and touch you as you try to pretend to be normal enough for a relationship or become a total outcast with nothing and no one to rely on?

Can you spend decades more in this village with this metaphorical mask that’s been nailed onto your face by your parents because they don’t want you to be seen by the world for who you truly are?

The thing that Suguru doesn’t understand is that if he goes to this high school, the only thing that’s separated him from everyone else will be gone. He will be surrounded by people who can see cursed spirits. He’ll no longer be seen as other. He would shine so bright at this new school.

It can never be like that with you.

Because, at the end of the day, people who are not born like you are all the same. Jujutsu sorcerers will have their own world with their own unspoken rules and their own incomprehensible language that you will only be able to decode when it’s too late and you’ve been stamped as wrong.

You don’t want to be left behind.

But you also don’t want to force Suguru to stay behind with you.

Who doesn’t want to be a hero? Not everyone can be, though. You weren’t built to be a fighter. It terrifies you, the thought of becoming one. You may be even more terrified to face the people than the cursed spirits. How exhausting will this be? You’ll not only be navigating the jujutsu world, but also the unspoken, too. You’ll have to learn new rules, learn to be around new people, and mold yourself a new mask.

You don’t want to let down Suguru.

Ugh.

You may as well go talk to him since he won’t come to you. He always waits on you to make the first move when you tell him that you need to be alone. So, you roll away from your futon, climb to your feet, throw on a few more layers, and climb out of your window into the freezing night.

The Geto house is two down from yours, but in the countryside, that’s a hike. It’s the smallest in the village. Suguru has said he’s lucky that he has his own room, but it’s close to his parents’. You don’t tap on his window like he does yours. Instead, he always leaves the window unlocked so that you can crawl through, as you do now. You don’t need to tiptoe over to shake him awake because, same as you, he never went to sleep.

Suguru meets you outside and brings a blanket with him that he throws over your shoulders and his. The two of you huddle under it, pressed right up against each other, soaking up the warmth from each other. You lean your head against his bicep, break the silence with a sigh and apology. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“Don’t be mean to yourself,” he scolds quietly. “I was being impulsive.” He sighs. “You’re right to be scared. I want away from here so bad that I didn’t stop to think about the danger that I’d be walking us both into.”

“I’ve been thinking about it all and…I’m not sure that it’s dying that I’m really scared of.” You brought a pen with you and click the end. It keeps your hand busy and Suguru doesn’t mind the noise. “I’ve been all over the place, I know. I was excited at the idea of meeting people like us, of getting out of here, and I am! I—” you chew on your bottom lip. “I don’t want you to leave me behind when we get there.”

“Why do you think I would ever leave you behind?” Suguru sounds genuinely hurt which makes you feel guiltier. “Have I been such a bad friend that you think I only pity you?”

“No!” You jerk your head up, looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. “You’re my best friend! The best friend!”

Suguru doesn’t meet your gaze. “You’re my best friend, too, Squid. I don’t pity you. I haven’t stuck by your side because you’re my only option. I’m not going to throw you away at the first sign of attention from people who understand us. You were the first person to ever see me. You were the first person to take care of me. Now, we take care of each other.” He tilts his head down, bumping it against yours. “It’s you and me, Squid. It always has been. It always will be.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t think you had the energy or tears left in you to cry, but maybe you’ve still got some left. You grab his hand like a clingy girlfriend. Your voice shakes as you ask, “Promise?”

“I promise,” Suguru swears.

The next day, after school, you’re called into a private meeting with a counselor, your parents, and Yaga.

And when Yaga offers a full scholarship to Tokyo Jujutsu High School, you accept.

#my fic #autistic reader #autistic gojo #jjk fic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto

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sweetbillwriting · 15 days

Text

In The Dead of Night

ELEVEN

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

“He was in a coma six months ago? For how long?” I asked in shock, but Robin didn't react to it.

“A month, I think? I learned about it after a couple of weeks. His friends didn't know if they should call me and... Heroin. I thought he had stopped with that shit, but one of his weird friends told me he had overdosed on purpose because of depression.”

I looked down at the ground, thinking back on my dreams. Could it be that Eric was in a coma? Believing he was dead? I dragged my hands over my face and shook my head in disbelief. I had started to believe the dreams were just dreams, but now I thought back on it again. The Spotify playlist, the name of his biological mom, the places and drawings he had shown me... Could he in some way visit my dreams while he was in a coma?

“Are you listening?” Asked Robin a little irritated, and I nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. It's just so much… He hasn't told me this.”

“He's probably embarrassed. He has overdosed twice and lived while other people who do something with their lives die of diseases. He gets saved.”

I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, trying to digest everything. I started to get a headache from it all and dragged my hands through my hair, but still I had questions.

“Do you see him as your brother? You cried when you found out he was in a coma, but you talk about him like an invader in your family.”

Robin bent down in a similar way as I and looked down at Odin laying on the ground.

“No. He's just Eric to me. He's my parents foster kid, but he's nothing to me. I get that sounds harsh, but I never understood who he was as a kid, and then in my teens he moved in with us permanently and made everything difficult. But… They also favored him so hard. Dad cut down work hours to be home with him; mom was with him all the time, and they gave him expensive gifts, and we traveled more.”

I looked at Robin’s sad face and how he dragged his feet through the wet leaves on the ground. Maybe it was actually true? Maybe they actually gave Eric all that. I could imagine they wanted to give him all the things he had never gotten to lay a bandage over the abuse and trauma his mom caused him, but it was too much to not get Robin's attention. On top of that, Eric had magical powers? I wanted to laugh at my own thoughts but couldn't do that when Robin sat next to me, but it really seemed like Eric was something more. He talked with animals, was kind to everyone, liked by everyone, and could escape death and visit my dreams. He sounded like a Disney princess.

Robin was quiet just like me for a while, but he wasn't thinking about Snow White; he prepared a confession.

“I never told mom and dad I was gay... It would have given them one more reason to love him more than me. Instead, I was the weird one, never meeting a girl. Did you know he slept with my best friend? And later, two other friends. He was clearly straight and on top of that an asshole. Now he has slept with a fourth friend of mine…”

I looked at Robin up and down uncomfortably. I didn't want to believe Eric had slept with his friends, but I could also see how that could have happened. Eric had been tall, hot, and sexy since his late teens, and on top of that, he had taken drugs then already. I swallowed hard when I thought about how many he probably had slept with.

“I'm sorry, Robin... I don't even know what to say, but… He didn't know we were friends. I've lied to him too…”

Robin shook his head to himself and looked down at his hands playing with Odin's leash, then he sighed.

“I guess I can't decide who you date… But can you promise me you will never force me to like him? And that you're careful? He is an addict, whatever you say.”

I smiled with relief, happy to have his blessing, but it fell when I thought about Eric. He would never forgive me.

“I don't think we need to talk about that even… He will never forgive me…” I took a deep breath to calm myself down because I could feel the tears pushing behind my eyes.

“Ehm, before I talk about him, can we go home? I don't want to sit here and ugly cry in front of everyone.”

Robin nodded quickly and fixed Odin's leash around his hand.

“Of course, of course.”

We went to my home, and with a big cup of tea each, I told him about my love for Eric. How he had pulled me in at once and how I couldn't stop myself from loving him from the first time we met.

“I had these dreams about him when I thought he was dead and… He really was everything I ever wanted from a guy. Nothing like Dante, then I met him, and he was the same, and… He really sees me. He really cares for me, and even if you can't see it, he makes me feel safe.”

I cried so hard, I didn't know if Robin could hear me, but it seemed like it. He looked uncomfortable, even upset, but nodded slowly.

“I… Well, okay, I guess. If you feel like that, I will not say that it isn't true; it's just that I can't see anything else than how manipulative and selfish he is. That's my picture of him, but… Clearly, you see other sides in him…”

I nodded and dried my wet cheeks, but new tears came.

“But it's too late now…”

Robin shook his head.

“In rehab, they talk quite a lot about how to ask for forgiveness and to forgive others. If he learned anything there, he would listen. It's worth a try. You should call him.”

I looked at Robin, who met my eyes. It was big of him saying these things even if he didn't like Eric. Once again, I dried my tears, and then I gave him a hug. At least he was a true friend to me.

I waited until Robin had left to call Eric, and then a bit longer after that. I didn't dare at first. Maybe he was really angry and would curse at me. I wouldn't be able to handle that. I thought about leaving it be, so I could imagine him not being angry and grieve what was of our relationship. However, in the long run it wouldn't give me anything, so I collected myself and called him with shaking hands. I heard signal after signal, and the fourth I thought about hanging up, but just when the fifth started, he answered.

“Hey,” he said shortly.

“Hey.”

“Hey… Ehm… I don't know what to say, Eric, more than I'm so, so sorry for… everything,” I said with a dry throat and was forced to even cough after I had spoke.

“Yeah…” he said with his thinking voice. I knew he was in deep thought just in the way he answered.

“I love you. I love you, so so much,” I said desperately. Eric was quiet, so I continued to talk.

“I just wanted to be with you. From the first time I saw your photo, I was—”

Eric cleared his voice awkwardly. It was probably a bit much hearing me explain my love for his photo.

“Maybe, maybe we can talk for real?” He said it in a dreamlike tone, and for a second I would have believed he had smoked marijuana recently, but I knew he often sounded like that when he tried to master his big feelings and sensitive heart. “I can come to you tomorrow?”

My own heart beated hard. I didn't want anything more than that.

“Of course, of course!” I said excitedly, I couldn't contain my happiness.

“Good… I'm sorry, by the way?”

“What? For What?” I answered with a giggle, like he was joking. I couldn't control the euphoria I felt of just knowing I would be close to him soon.

“For what happened with Nick and all that… I guess drugs are the thing I think about when life sucks. Like when you had those extreme menstrual cramps and you asked for—”

“Stop!” I said with a loud laugh, and Eric laughed too. It was a joke, a joke about that time I had such horrible period cramps that my ass cramped so I had begged him for anal sex like it was the only thing that could save my life.

Fortunately, it subsided by itself before we had time to do it, and then it felt awfully scary.

I could hear Eric's sweet little giggle in my ear, and I sighed with love.

“I really love you the most in the entire world, you know.”

“I love you most in the entire world, too, babe,” he said warmly before we hung up.

×××

“I'm sorry, but it sounds super weird you dreamed about me,” he said after thinking about what I had said for a while. I had told him I dreamed about him, but I didn't dare say I believed it was actually him visiting my dreams. It would be too much and sound a bit like an excuse from a stalker.

“It was! After the first time seeing your photo, I started to dream about you, and you were amazing in the dream, just as amazing as you are now, and yeah, I just wanted to meet you for real. And you were so different from Dante. Even the person you were in my dream was everything I wanted.”

Eric looked at me with big eyes and nodded. He put down his cup on the coffee table, then he moved closer to me smoothly.

“You have said many times that Dante was a really bad guy… What does that mean?” He searched my eyes, but I just looked away. I didn't want to talk about Dante like that.

“You can talk to me… I hope you know that.”

I moved closer to Eric and looked into his kind eyes. I was safe with him.

“He hit me a couple of times.”

I looked at Eric's Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“He hit you?”

“It was just a few times, but I provoked him, so it's just embarrassing to talk about. I don't want people to know how annoying I-”

“Hey!” Said Eric, upset, and it made me jump. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said softly when he realized he had scared me. “No guy has any right to hit you, even if you're annoying as hell. I don't care what you say about yourself, he is the one in the wrong.” He looked at me seriously but suddenly looked scared. “You know I would never do that, right? I know people say it's a bigger risk for abused kids to become abusive adults, but I would never ever in my life do that. I would kill myself if I ever did that.”

His words were sincere and worried, and his face, cute. I kissed his full lips and dragged my hand over his smooth cheek.

“I know that, Eric. That's why I love you so much. I would never doubt your kindness.” I kissed him again, and it led to us making out a bit. I crawled up in his lap, and he took his chance to pull down my tank top straps so he could play with my chest with his big hands. His lips found a nipple, and once again he sucked so hard it felt like he thought his next dinner was there. I dragged my hands over his head and cradled him against my chest while he found comfort against me.

“My boy… I'm sorry for everything that has happened to you in life…” I whispered and made him look at me, still with my nipple between his lips.

“I'm sorry that your biological mom didn't treat you well and that you met so many others that have hurt you…”

Eric released my nipple and looked away but still lay against my chest.

“I know it's her fault I am the way I am. That I crave... That I need drugs to calm my loud thoughts down, but I'm not mad anymore. She was disturbed. She was sick. The men… They're just faceless idiots to me, so there is no one to be angry with.”

He sounded so mature and calm, and I felt proud and smiled at him a little. It would be a good person like Eric who could see life from that angle.

“But when you are depressed, what is that about?”

He shrugged his shoulders and sat up.

“Depression doesn't always have an explanation. It's just like everything drops for me. Like nothing is important. It just falls to the ground, and I can't see an end. Of course I can have nightmares about the men who kicked me around or the times Linda tied me to the radiator for a day or two.” I gave him an upset look, but he didn't seem to notice. “But it's not those memories that make me depressed. That's just my brain shutting off.”

Eric looked at me and then smiled a little.

“You don't need to look so worried; it was fifteen years ago. And Linda is dead. She died of a failing liver when I was eighteen or something.”

I nodded a little and patted his cheeks. It was hard thinking that a kind soul as Eric had gotten treated like that, and it made both my chest and stomach hurt. I kissed his lips softly a few times, but I noticed quickly that Eric wanted more than that. I giggled when he pulled down my tank top again to touch my chest and when he licked my lips to be able to get permission to dance with my tongue.

Deep tongue kisses made Eric pleasurably groan, and when I moved in his lap, I could clearly feel he was hard. I dragged myself over his sex and could feel his cock grow to its full size in the loose-fit track pants. Eric knew what he wanted but also what I wanted, so he stood up and let me hang around him like a koala bear.

“Am I not heavy?” I said with a giggle. I knew I wasn't for him, but I wanted to hear it.

“Fuck no, you don't weigh a thing.” He said, shaking his head. He probably knew I just wanted to hear that but answered seriously so it would feel even more real for me. I giggled and leaned back while being in his safe arms. I could lean back a long way, and Eric let out a sound of admiration.

“Fuck you're sexy,” he said, and then put me down in bed. His words made me feel my self esteem grow, and I smirked while taking off my clothes while lying in bed. I moved sensually, letting him be my small little audience while I started my masturbation show for him. Eric stood and looked at me with an open mouth and pulled off his big gray t-shirt. I looked at his muscles shamelessly, and even if he was so close, I fantasized about having him even closer. I sat up, drunk of hornyness, and pulled him closer to me with a grip of the elastic to his dark blue pants.

From his navel down to the hem of his pants, I made a small trail of kisses. I licked the lines going down to his groin while teasingly pushing down his pants with his boxers. Eric chuckled a little when I licked closer and closer to his loins and helped me take the last of his clothes when my lips moved closer and closer to the root of his cock. He kicked the pants and boxers away with his socks and then turned around. His idea was to just attack my lips with his, but I stopped him because I wanted to look at him. Eric scratched his ear while I looked at his body up and down.

“Damn boy,” I teased and bit my lip. Eric chuckled, embarrassed but also proudly. He had a hobby you could see clearly how much he worked on, but also, he won a lottery in anatomy.

“Can I fuck you now?” He said and moved closer to me, and I nodded with a giggle. With a smile, he kissed me and moved over me, his body so broad it felt like it swallowed me up. He smelled like one of his expensive perfumes, mixed with herbal tea, and even that smell was intoxicating. With a swift motion, he had pushed me down on my stomach in bed so he could enter me from behind while he held me close to his body. I wonder if I could ever get used to his size or strength. I hoped not because every time he was close, I felt so blessed and protected, and I hoped I would never take that feeling for granted.

×××

Eric fell asleep after our lovemaking; most of the time he had held me up against the wall, and I could see that would even be much for him, but I couldn't deny what a feeling it was to be held like that. I felt small and vulnerable in his arms, full, overwhelmed, and light as air. He had instead held me up by the thighs while also moving in and out of me with fast, hard strokes. No wonder he was tired.

I swept my finger over his nose, following the straight nose bridge out to the upturned tip. He wasn't bothered by it; he just continued to sleep. Warmth rose in my chest while I looked at him, but another feeling started to take over. Hadn't it been very easy for me to be forgiven by him? I had lied and gone behind his back, but he forgave me after just a few minutes, then slept with me in the best way. The last time I saw him, he had also laid in a bed but had asked for drugs. Did that craving just disappear? I thought back to the moment in his bed and what he had said. He had wanted the morphine pills he had seen in the bathroom. Pills I hadn't hidden away before his visit. I stood up from bed and pulled on a floral kimono as I walked to the bathroom on light feet. I know you can guess what I found—nothing. The pills weren't anywhere to be found. I searched over and over in the bathroom, but there weren't any pills. I could feel the panic grow because I didn't want to believe it, but still it was there; Eric had just forgiven me and slept with me to steal my morphine pills.

I stood and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, more or less waiting for the inevitable breakdown. I loved him so much, but he clearly loved other things more than me, even if he had said he loved me most in the entire world. I waited for the breakdown, but it never came; maybe it had just been too much the last few days and there were no tears left.

I walked back to the bedroom, where he still slept with just the cover on his hips. I looked at all the badly made tattoos, the clues to what life he had lived and probably would soon live again. I wondered if he was high on something while we slept together. Maybe it was amphetamine that gave him his stamina. I kicked his shin with my foot over and over. That was the only way I wanted to touch him; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to keep my cool. I kicked quite hard after a while to make him wake up, and after three hard kicks, he looked up at me confused.

“I'm sorry, have I slept a long time?” He said with a raspy voice and rubbed his eyes.

“Did you just sleep with me to be able to take my pills?” I said crass with furrowed brows. He sat up and scratched his chest. He looked adorable with his big eyes shifting, but for me, that was just proof he had taken them; he couldn't even look at me.

“What?”

“My morphine pills; you have taken them!”

“What? No?”

“God, I never thought this about you, Eric!”

“But I haven't-”

“Don't lie to me!”

“But I-”

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

Even if he was the one in the wrong, I swallowed hard when he looked at me hurt.

Without a word, he stood up and started to dress. My instinct was to say I was sorry and beg him to stay, but he had used me for drugs, so there was no hope for us.

I stood with crossed arms and shiny eyes while his naked body disappeared into soft fabrics. He walked by me without a look, out to the hallway.

“Can I have the pills?” I tried to sound cold but didn't know if I succeeded very well. The question made him finally look up at me with sad eyes.

“I don't have them.”

I sighed and looked down at the ground disappointedly. It wasn't like him to lie to me right in the face, but I guessed drugs made him into someone else. I looked at him while he pulled on his bomber jacket and turned on his heel to the door. The jackets were the only place he could have them, and for a few seconds I regretted not looking in his pockets but brushed that away; it didn't make any difference. Eric closed the door silently behind him; he would probably never be the kind to be violent in front of a woman. I stared at the door for a long time after he had left with tears in my eyes. I couldn't say why, but it felt like something didn't add up, but I tried to say to myself that it was just me who wanted it to be that way.

I sat down on the couch where our teacups still stood on the coffee table. I breathed heavily, trying to find acceptance, but it seemed like other thoughts knocked on the door and wanted in.

He hadn't even been in the bathroom. He had been by my side all the time.

I thought back to his visit, trying in every way to find a time he could have taken the pills, but there wasn't a time. In panic, I ran to the bathroom, looking again through every cabinet and box after the pills. I threw things out on the floor to see everything better, but they were nowhere to be found. I cried hysterically because I couldn't find an explanation.

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

Even if he was the one in the wrong, I swallowed hard when he looked at me hurt.

Without a word, he stood up and started to dress. My instinct was to say I was sorry and beg him to stay, but he had used me for drugs, so there was no hope for us.

I stood with crossed arms and shiny eyes while his naked body disappeared into soft fabrics. He walked by me without a look, out to the hallway.

“Can I have the pills?” I tried to sound cold but didn't know if I succeeded very well. The question made him finally look up at me with sad eyes.

“I don't have them.”

I sat down on the couch where our teacups still stood on the coffee table. I breathed heavily, trying to find acceptance, but it seemed like other thoughts knocked on the door and wanted in.

He hadn't even been in the bathroom. He had been by my side all the time.

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

I heard my own words in my head. Had I thrown that in his face, and he hadn't even taken the pills? He must have taken them. Where else were they? I needed to talk to someone, someone that could tell me I had done the right thing. I called Robin with shaking hands, sitting on the toilet lid with legs bobbing up and down in panic.

“My morphine pills were gone, so he must have taken them, but I don't know when he could have done it, but he must have, right? Right? I mean, where are they otherwise? He came here and pretended to be the perfect boyfriend again just to take them!” I rambled with a runny nose.

Robin was quiet on the line. I wasn't prepared for that; I thought he would just say I had done the right thing.

“I have them.”

I didn't understand what he was saying and furrowed my brows in confusion.

“What?”

Robin sighed deeply.

“I'm sorry, I thought I did both of you a favor by taking them away. So he wouldn't be tempted.”

“Huh?” My heart beated hard against my chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I had accused Eric of stealing my pills without any proof, and here I now sat with the truth. Eric was really the perfect boyfriend, but I had called him a junkie.

“I didn't want to do a thing out of it because I was afraid you would be angry if I said anything that could be critical to your relationship.”

Robin sounded sincere, but right at that moment I didn't care. I had called Eric a fucking junkie. I thought about his hurt expression but how calm he still continued to be. Always so respectful and sweet, even when hearing such things.

“Oh my god... Oh my god…” I said with a shaking voice and laid a hand over my mouth to cover my sobs.

“I'm really sorry, Della; this wasn't my plan at all!” Said Robin with guilt and stress in his voice. I didn't say anything because I was busy trying to control my tears.

“I would never do such a thing to you. Him, yes, but not you. I can punish him with mom and all that, but I wouldn't-” he interrupted himself, and I could almost hear his panic.

“...how do you punish Eric? What? How do you punish Eric??” I said, upset, and raised my voice. I had a bad feeling—a really bad feeling and ideas about what he had done to Eric spun around in my head.

“Nothing!” Robin sounded mad, but I was quite sure it was a way to mask that he had said way too much.

“Tell me now!”

Robin was quiet on the line. “Is it something about him not seeing Lotti? Huh? Have you kept them from each other?”

Robin sighed like he was irritated, but instead of saying anything, he hung up in my ear.

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