And second idea:

Matt having a bad lawyer day and a bad Mr. Devil Sir night, the coming home to reader and needing to just let go and use reader’s body for release (with reader’s consent of course) BUT THEN he goes just a lil too far and reader has to use their safe word and Matt immediately snaps out of it then feels TERRIBLE and gets all self deprecation-y and reader comforts him 🫢😳🥹

hi nonnie! ❤️ ok first of all I must be an idiot because I could not find your first request and I don't know what I did, but if you want to re-submit it please do! thank you so much for this request, it was a bit of a challenge not gonna lie, but I really hope I did it justice and this is at least close to what you were looking for!

warning: this req does include explicit sexual content, so minors please dni. I also want to give a warning that while this is purely consensual, it does include the use of reader's safe word. if that makes you uncomfortable or isn't for you, please feel free to skip this one. you will not hurt my feelings, I promise. I want this to be a safe space where everyone feels welcome & respected. while this is a little darker in content, it does have a fluffy ending with our favorite sad duck. ✨ word count: 3.1k

a really bad day.

It had been a day. God, had it been a fucking day. 

It started with Matt falling back asleep after smacking his hand over his alarm so forcefully that he must have broken it, because the alarms he had preset in fifteen minute increments never followed. Your side of the bed had gone cold, and silence filled the apartment, indicating you had already left for work. Matt knew he shouldn’t be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault he overslept. He had stumbled in only a few hours earlier, and since you were always worrying that he didn’t sleep enough and could probably tell how exhausted he was, had probably decided he could use the extra few minutes. Still, he was angry.

His bad mood didn’t improve as he stomped around the bedroom, pulling his clothes on a little too aggressively that he nearly ripped some of the buttons off his shirt and tore his tie in half. The incessant voice alerting him that Foggy was calling had him seconds away from hurling his phone into the brick. He grit his teeth as he bent over to hastily tie his shoes, his entire body crying out in agony from the aftermath of last night. As badly as he wanted to stay home, he knew Foggy would chew him out for it granted the importance of the case they were working on. Matt slammed the door shut behind him so hard it sounded like thunder had erupted in the small hallway, much to his neighbors displeasure. 

The day only got worse from there. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen seemed to be a little bit more crowded than usual, or maybe Matt was just more impatient today as he darted across the busy sidewalks a little too well for someone using the aid of a cane. It was unbearably hot today, and he had already begun to sweat before he made it to the end of his street. He felt like he was trapped in a sauna underneath his clothing and prayed to God the air conditioning in the office hadn’t gone out again. All the noises and smells around him seemed to be far more intense than usual, and the overstimulation was causing a migraine to start to throb between his ears. Great.

Matt Murdock must have truly pissed off the powers that be somehow because the second he walked through the door, he was greeted with bad news from Foggy. A new piece of evidence had been found in the case they were working on that completely ripped apart their entire defense. All that hard work they had done, all those late nights burning the midnight oil the past few weeks, and their entire fucking defensive argument had been torn to shreds by a tiny piece of evidence that had been overlooked by the NYPD. It took every single ounce of self control for Matt to not snap and start taking his frustrations out on every outdated inanimate object in that office. 

He had gotten home before you, and decided to skip dinner and head straight to Fogwell’s before going out on patrol. Hit after hit he threw at the worn down bag did nothing to dull his fury. Matt yelled in frustration, throwing his bag clear across the gym in a fit of rage. He knew he couldn’t keep pounding away at that bag if he was going to have any strength left for the assholes that dared to get in the path of the Devil tonight. He was more aggressive than usual as he took man after man down throughout the night. He punched and kicked until he tasted the familiar metallic tang in the air, and was only satisfied by the sound of something breaking that wasn’t meant to break. He twisted limbs in angles they weren’t meant to be in, and had knocked five men out at least in unconsciousness. But it wasn’t enough. That blaze that had been roaring inside him since he woke up was still burning red hot.

Matt could tell from three blocks away that you were still awake. He could hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and your breathing, not slow enough for you to be asleep, or even close to it. Sometimes you waited up for him, just to make sure he was okay, or because you missed him. Sometimes he loved that. He loved coming home in the early hours of the night when everything was quiet and still, finding you still awake on the couch reading a book and waiting for him, telling him you couldn’t fall asleep without him tonight. He loved laying his head on your chest, feeling you draping a blanket over the two of you, and listening to your voice as you both caught up about your days. He loved the feeling of your fingers threading gently through his hair, and letting the symphony of your heartbeat ease the weight of all the violence he had encountered that night into nothingness. Sometimes he needed that. Sometimes he loved it.

But tonight all it did was piss him off. Tonight he hated it, because he felt guilty. He felt guilty that you were awake at this hour, waiting for him to come home. He felt guilty because he knew you had to be awake in a few short hours for work. He was even angrier because he knew you wouldn’t go to sleep until he let you examine him for injuries, insisting on doctoring even the most miniscule of scrapes and bruises. He hated it because he had told you countless times you didn’t have to wait up for him, and you wouldn’t fucking listen.

“Why are you still awake?”

It came out more as an accusatory statement than a question. You didn’t deserve the venom in his words. He knew that. He had never used such a harsh tone with you before, and he could tell it caught you off guard by the slight uptick in your heartbeat. That should’ve been the first alarm in his head, but he couldn’t hear it.

“I…I was waiting for you. I didn’t get to see you today. You weren’t home when I got here…and you weren’t answering your phone. I just…wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Normally, that would’ve melted Matt’s heart, and he would’ve apologized for making you worry. He would’ve been able to notice the uncertainty and nervousness lacing your voice, taking a moment to calm himself before greeting you properly. But today was not a normal day, and Matt wasn’t himself. Today those words were like gasoline antagonizing a wildfire. 

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that? I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to worry, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity.”

“Matt, I-”

Matt had ripped the mask off his head and sent it flying across the living room, smacking against the brick with a heavy thud. He wrapped his hand tightly around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to stop your flow of words as he dragged you up off the couch and roughly guided you towards your shared bedroom.

“Shut up. Since you’re awake, why don’t you make yourself fucking useful?”

Matt spun you around so quickly it made you dizzy, pushing you onto your knees on the bed before him with a force that nearly winded you. He ripped your panites completely off your hips like they were made of wet paper and a sharp gasp left your mouth. It wasn’t that he had never done that before, but tonight it felt different. He was different. Matt didn’t recognize the words that fell from his lips. They didn’t sound like him. He would never speak to you that way. But it was like he had blacked out and someone else had taken over his body. The other guy. As soon as he was out of his suit, he spit on his palm and rubbed it over his cock a few times to get himself hard. Pushing your head down into the mattress carelessly, he leaned down slightly to spit on the entrance of your pussy before lining himself up.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

He didn’t wait before shoving his entire length forcefully inside your tight walls, or wait for you to adjust before starting at an unforgiving pace. He didn’t recognize that the whimper that sounded from your throat was one of pain, not pleasure. He was too far gone in his own head to pay attention to anything else but how badly he needed a release. He had been trying all goddamn night to get this anger out, lashing out aggressively at anyone that got in his way, but it wasn’t fucking working and this was his last resort.

You always helped him through his pent up animosity when he came home still reeling with adrenaline and frustration. You always told him you didn’t mind when he let the Devil loose with you, and that you even enjoyed playing with him sometimes. You always told him you wanted to help, however you could, to give him what he needed. So, Matt didn’t think anything of it when he came home like this. You had assured him several times before you wanted it too. That you didn’t mind him like this, and that sometimes you needed him like this. All that he needed right now was you. If he could just make it to heaven tonight, he could leave hell behind.

Matt wasn’t paying attention to you. He had your wrists locked behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped so tightly on your hip you knew there would be bruises from his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours and he was pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult for you to not collapse. His head was so clouded with blind rage that he couldn’t hear your pleas and cries of his name, or that they sounded different. Matt’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster as he got close. It was right there…he was almost there…just a little bit-

“Red!”

Something inside of Matt snapped when he heard you scream out your safe word, and he immediately froze. He blinked his eyes rapidly as he tilted his head down towards your body beneath him, like he was waking up from some kind of fever dream and trying to remember where he was. He instantly let go of you when he heard your shuddering breaths, and tasted the saline that escaped down your cheek. Matt’s eyes widened in horror as everything suddenly started to clear up in his selfish brain. You had been trying to get him to stop. Your pleas and cries from earlier seemed to just now hit his ears.

“Matt…please slow down…”

“Matty please…it’s too much…”

“God…can we please just…just stop for a second? Please Matty…it hurts…”

It hurts.

Matt scrambled backwards away from the bed, his back colliding with the door as he realized what he had done. How far he had taken it. How far he had pushed you. He suddenly felt nauseous, those two words clamoring around in his head.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“Oh God, Y/N…I…I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to-”

You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, carefully sitting up on your aching knees and glancing over your shoulder to look at Matt. Your heart broke at the contrite expression of pure terror on his face. You knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you, or push you like that. You could tell from the way he shut off his alarm that morning, and the way he had come home to you, that something was off with him. You had texted and called a few times today to check on him, but had never gotten ahold of him. After calling both Foggy and Karen when you got home and Matt wasn’t there, you started to worry. Both of them confirmed his sour mood and questionable outbursts throughout the day, which gnawed at the pit of your stomach.

Whatever was going on with him, you could tell it had pushed him to his breaking point, and you had unfortunately been caught in the storm. As you got off the bed and began to walk closer towards him, calling out his name softly, Matt squeezed his eyes shut and tugged at the roots of his hair in frustration.

“Fuck, Y/N…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, I swear-”

“Hey, I know, Matty. I know. It’s okay-”

“No! No it isn’t okay. Nothing about what just happened is okay.”

Matt’s voice broke towards the end of his sentence, and it sent a pang throughout your chest. There were tears of shame forming in his eyes, and you could see the guilt swimming around in them. It devastated you to see him like this. 

“Matty, I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, Y/N. I hurt you. I hurt you because I’m fucking-”

You quickly pressed a finger to Matt’s lips, knowing you only had a matter of minutes to get his incessant guilt under control before it really had a chance to sink in. You gently grabbed onto the back of his neck, bringing him down to press your foreheads together, and guided his hand up to settle on your chest over your heart.

“Matty, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening? I want you to listen to my heartbeat, feel it. I am okay, I promise. You are okay. We are okay. Yes, it did hurt, but only because I wasn’t ready. That’s all. You know I don’t mind when you’re a little rough, you know that. But you know you have to prep me first, make sure I’m ready too. You forgot to do that tonight, and that’s okay. You haven’t been feeling like yourself today, have you? You’ve been a little lost up there, huh?”

You kept your voice soft and barely above a whisper, gently brushing your thumb along Matt’s temple, replacing your touch with a kiss as you heard him exhale deeply and felt him slowly nod his head.

“That’s okay, baby. We all get lost sometimes. We reach our limit, and we lose our heads. You had a really bad day today, yeah?”

Matt was afraid to speak. He didn’t want to fuck up any worse than he already had. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your gentle touch and unwavering kindness. He didn’t deserve your omnipotent understanding or your pure unfiltered love. He didn’t deserve you.

You knew exactly what was going through his head, you could practically hear the scathing words. You knew Matt Murdock like the back of your hand. You knew he was simmering with self-deprecation and remorse, and would never forgive himself for tonight even though you already had. You gently cradled his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over the tops of his cheekbones.

“Matty, baby, you had a bad day today. A really bad day. But that’s okay, you know why? It’s almost over. And tomorrow is a brand new one. A fresh start. Why don’t we take a nice shower, hm? Just wash it all away, and start clean tomorrow. C’mon, bub. Come with me.”

Matt hesitantly let you lead him into the bathroom, holding onto your hand for as long as you would let him. Even though he could tell you meant every word you said from your unfaltering heartbeat, he wasn’t convinced that he was worthy of your forgiveness. Of your love. Of you.

As steam billowed above like gentle clouds, you carefully ushered Matt into the shower and lightly pushed him backwards until he stood under the flow of the water. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his entire body visibly relaxing under the scalding stream. You moved forward to wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest, stroking your fingertips lovingly up and down his back. Matt’s arms came around your back slowly and cautiously, holding you delicately to his chest like you would vanish into the steam if he wasn’t careful. He had been wound up so tightly for the past 24 hours, and focusing now only on the feeling of your touch, he felt the tension finally begin to detox from his body, and he wanted to cry in relief. 

The lighter he felt, the tighter he held onto you. You sang to him softly, swaying steadily from side to side underneath the warm water together. You smiled when you felt him bury his face into your neck, bringing one of your hands up to run your fingers through his wet hair tenderly as he melted into your embrace. You pressed several soft kisses to his neck and shoulder, never once loosening your hold on him. You could feel him starting to come back to you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know, bub. I know. You wanna talk about it?”

“I just…everything was going wrong today. Everything was too loud, smelled too strong, felt too hot and uncomfortable. I couldn’t stop feeling anything but angry. I couldn’t snap out of it, no matter what I did.”

“You were overwhelmed Matty. You should’ve called me and came home. I would’ve come home and taken care of you, you know that baby.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I…I couldn’t think straight today. Couldn’t hardly focus. I just…wasn’t thinking. Just…feeling, everything. All at once.”

You hugged him a little tighter after his defeated confession, feeling your heart ache for him all over again. You had seen Matt struggle with sensory overload plenty of times, and irritation was usually the emotion that took over when that happened and he would get a little snappy, but you had never seen him like you had tonight. You realized how intense everything must have been for him to get to that point, and it sent fresh cracks through your heart.

“It’s okay, Matty. You’re home now, and everything is alright. I’ve got you. Why don’t you take tomorrow off, hm? I’ll stay home with you. We can spend the whole day, just me and you.”

Matt hummed quietly in response, nuzzling his face further into your neck to inhale your comforting scent. You both stood wrapped up together under the water until it started to run a little cold. 

“Foggy’s right, you know.”

“Hm?”

“He calls you ‘The Matt Whisperer’.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, smiling as you heard the faintest of chuckles muffled against your skin. You squeezed his large frame in a tight hug, reaching behind him to shut off the water.

“Daredevil and the Matt Whisperer, what a dynamic duo we make. Think I can get a sexy little outfit like yours?”

Hi soda. I have a Nacht request. Can you write Nacht x tsundere reader head cannons or a story anything is okay.

I can certainly try for you, Anon, as well as all other Nacht fans out there~! I find it a little funny since Nacht himself could be considered some flavor of tsundere (given his interactions with Yami).

..........

Nacht Faust x Tsundere!Reader

First off, neither of you asked the other out. The Black Bulls had pulled an elaborate scheme to set you up on a date.

It was a weird evening with Nacht remarking about how many romantic scenarios you'd conveniently stumbled across (like a fountain light show or couples getting discounts on ice cream) and you snidely remarking that he didn't have to be so suspicious of everything.

By the end of it, Nacht apologized for "dragging down the mood" but you shut him up with a kiss and admitted that his jaded view on romance was kinda funny. At least for the night.

"Don't be so cynical if we end up becoming a couple, okay Nacht?"

"Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?"

"Wha-?! What part made you think that?!"

From there, you and Nacht had a somewhat unconventional relationship.

You will constantly have to drag Nacht places. Either out of bed because he's a night owl and wants to sleep in but you won't have it. Or you have to force him out of the BB base because his weekly critiques of his squadmates is dragging out too long.

Your shows of affection are very strong. Literally in some cases. You've given him pats on the back that make him say "ow." And when you tell him goodbye it tends to come out as "don't forget you have a loving partner to come home to or I'm going to kick your ass!"

You are Nacht's cheerleader, if an aggressive one. If he starts to criticize himself or get gloomy, you grab him by the collar, give him a good shake, and say "Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend, huh? The man I love isn't as pathetic as this."

And in return (in a way?), Nacht is your biggest critic. Mostly because he knows how amazing you are when you apply yourself wholeheartedly. So he'll push your buttons and annoy you into showing effort.

If you ever want to cuddle with Nacht, you don't ask. You just grab him from wherever he is and take him to a couch or to bed.

Nacht points out that he'd always agree if you simply asked but you insist that the way you do it is already working so there's no need to change.

If anyone, the Black Bulls or otherwise, inquire about your relationship with Nacht, you glare at them. "It's none of your business! It's nosy and creepy to be asking about other people's relationships, you know!"

You're just embarrassed to talk about dating him.

You've lost count of the times you've smacked Nacht's hand away from touching you when you're not in the mood for physical affection. You could move away or tell Nacht not to touch you but your brain is wired towards a "fight" reaction.

You're annoyed with yourself over it. But Nacht assures you that you don't slap that hard.

"Are you saying that I'm weak?"

"Oh no, you're plenty strong. Your slapping technique just isn't good. Which is fortunate for me."

"I'll get better at slapping just to spite you."

"... Please don't."

Your relationship with Nacht isn't saccharine sweet whatsoever. You've got a sharp personality and Nacht is a jaded man. But you two appreciate that you don't have to be soft with each other to show affection.

Truly, Nacht wouldn't mind if you were more tsuntsun in public if it meant that the deredere side of you was something exclusive to him (and your friends, he supposes with a twinge of jealousy).

               “Mikey, aren’t you done yet? You’ve exercised more tonight collecting candy than you do with Leo’s training runs.” Donatello shifted his small pillow case of candy over his shoulders, using his free hand to smother a yawn. “Most of the houses are done.”

               “Spoken like a true quitter,” Mikey jeered back. “I still see a couple lights on.” He jiggled his overstuffed pillow case. “This can still hold more.”

               Don eyed the makeshift bag skeptically. “I wouldn’t count on it. C’mon, Mikey, you’ve got enough for all of us for an apocalypse. Leo’s” —another large yawn broke through his speech— “Leo’s going to start worrying about us.”

               “I’m worried about him. He quit hours ago!”

               “He … he only came to appease you. He counted on me to keep you under control.” Don sighed. “He figured Raph would need a better babysitter than Casey.”

               Mikey’s eyes met Don’s. “Oh. Oh well. You’re more fun than him anyway.”

               “Excuse me?”

               “Leo crashes parties when he’s not in the mood. You’re easier to…” Mikey’s sickly sweet smile faltered.

               “Manipulate?” Don supplied. He took a moment to mull it over. He knew that he could be easily swayed in most matters, bar for a select few. When Mikey put on his cute act, Don could rarely fight his whim. He hadn’t thought of it before, but the point was valid. “That won’t work tonight, Mikey. People don’t exactly hand out mugs of coffee to trick-or-treaters.”

               “Just a couple more houses, Donny? Please?” Mikey darted ahead of Don to stop his forward progress. During their talk, Don had strategically led them to an alley in order to enter the sewers.

               “We’re already halfway home, I’m tired and Leo’s probably wondering where we are. You have enough.” Don gently set down his load, allowing use of both hands to lift the heavy manhole cover. “Let’s go home without further argument.”

               Mikey pouted silently to himself. “Fine. Then do I get your candy?”

               Having shoved the circular chunk of metal aside, Don tossed Mikey an exasperated look. “Sure, whatever. I don’t need it. Just make sure you don’t make yourself sick.”

               “Me? Sick? From too much candy?” Michelangelo’s reptilian face was the picture of innocence.

               Don grabbed his bag and started down the ladder. “Yeah, you, sick from too much candy. I don’t want to be woken up because you’re emptying your stomach into the toilet. Those sounds carry.” He shivered involuntarily.

               Mikey’s immediate response was silence. “Ew, dude,” he eventually said. He exhaled as he slid the cover back into place. “We live in the sewers and that’s still gross.”

               “You think that’s gross! You should hear about the physiology behind vomiting. That’s nasty.” Don yawned again, coughing on the dirty air of the sewers. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

               As soon as Don opened the door to the lair, Mikey rushed past, accidentally bumping him aside with his heaping sack of candy. Don stumbled to the side, quickly regaining his balance despite his drowsiness. Needlessly brushing himself off, he tossed an irritated look at his brother.

               “He’s not even here,” Mikey said smugly to Don. Donatello’s passive aggressive glare went ignored. “So we could have trick-or-treated more.”

               Don shook his head with a large yawn. “No, we couldn’t have. No one was giving out candy at this late of an hour anymore. I’ve already told you – you have enough.” He staggered down the stairs and crossed the lair to the kitchen. Gathering the necessary ingredients, he started brewing his coffee.

               Mikey followed him, setting down his pillowcase on the table before snatching Don’s discarded candy as well. Turning the makeshift bags upside-down, he unceremoniously dumped the goods all across the wooden surface. “Dude, if you’re so tired, go to bed.”

               “And leave you alone to destroy the lair? I’ll pass.” Don grabbed a chair and sat down, leaning against the back. “Besides, it’s getting cold out. I need to make sure our heating system is in shape before we all freeze to death.”

               A pout crossed Mikey’s face. “You don’t trust me to not destroy a stone lair with Master Splinter sleeping with only a paper door between me and him?”

               Don’s brows shot up at Mikey’s description. He would have put it past Mikey to think it all through. “In short, no. Is that all you got out of that?”

               Mikey took his time in answering. The sounds of him shuffling through the candy pile and from the coffee maker were the only ones present in the large space. After a while, the rustling of a plastic wrapper ceased and Mikey settled into a chair of his own. “Wha—?”

               “Just because you pretend to not listen to me does not mean that I didn’t say anything,” Don sighed. Getting out of his chair, Don grabbed a mug to fill with his precious coffee. “I don’t even know why you care so much. You make me think you’re going to get into trouble if someone’s not watching you.” Filling his mug up, he threw a look at Mikey.

               “Nah. Just looking out for a fellow bro.”

               Cradling his mug in his hand, Donatello sat back in his seat. “I’m no fool, Michelangelo. I wouldn’t put it past you to booby-trap Raph’s door or something.” Mikey’s face brightened. “Forget I ever said that,” Don mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

Anyways,, wayhaven drama is stressful. So I'm gonna say goodbye to some of the fandom

i was going to write in the tags but i guess ill do it under the read more because ive got too much 2 say

Alright, I know I don't owe anyone an explanation but for some reason I feel like I'm being selfish?? I'm probably going to unfollow most of the twc blogs. There are some of you that I really get along with and I still love your content that I will keep following however! I don't want to cut TWC out of my life entirely but if I'm being honest? I can't keep up.

Tumblr has been great for my mental health in the past with learning more about ADHD and learning to accept my sexuality but right now it feels hostile. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells in the TWC fandom. I'm not even a TWC blog! Not even that many TWC people follow me! I made this blog in 2018 because I wanted to follow Mishka, but this was never a TWC blog. I love these games, and they arent just some hyperfixation. They are an interest that I've had for a long time, and also helped me come to terms with my sexuality. I know it might seem silly but finally deciding to try and romance F!UB instead of M!UB helped me come to terms that I can love people if they aren't men!!

But like I said I've liked wayhaven for a good while now! I go through times where I don't really want to talk about wayhaven because I don't want to burn out my enjoyment because i was too intense about it for too long. I just can't really keep up with the fandom. It's a fictional story, about fictional vampires. It's okay to love something a lot and want to talk about it a lot but personally I just cannot handle the intensity of some things happening. I want to keep this as a game I can escape into. I don't want to be keeping track of all the latest drama and seeing Mishka get 'Cancelled' or stuff like that.

There is just so much passive aggressiveness and negativity in the posts I see, so I simply,, do not want to see them. I don't want to be a part of a fandom where ppl can't just block and forget someone they don't like and instead harass them, or seeing/hearing about s*lf h*rm and su*cide baiting going on. I just don't want to feel like there is a right way to enjoy twc and that I'm doing it wrong. I'm still going to make and reblog art though!

fuck shit i loved unrivaled but can we please get jealous reader? like maybe everyones on a mission and spencer has to flirt with someone?? the target??? thank you keep doing what you do!! <3

Established Relationship Rivalry

Summary: In which you really don't like Spencer talking to other girls... or assassins. "Shut your mouth, before I do it for you."

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, Jealous!Reader, companion piece to Unrivaled but not a sequel, pining (?), fluff and angst(?), established relationships RIVALRY, more reader-centric sorry, ft. Entropy Cat Adams that bitch (derogatory), a darker side of Mysterious!Reader comes to light

⏤

You sit at the bar a few seats down from JJ, watching Spencer at the corner of your eye as he puts on a show of settling into the velvet booth. 

The restaurant is fancy, the kind you take your significant other, or in this case, invite your ‘high end’ date to gain their trust, lure them in. Your vision swims at its dark red scheme and slightly dim lights, but it’s not too much that you don’t notice how good Spencer looks in his new suit, something he’s recently taken up. The blazer’s dark against his light skin, his purple tie is in a lopsided knot, and he even combed his hair a little. 

You sigh. If only you weren’t on the job, you’d stare as much as you’d want. It seems you’re not the only one who’s noticed either, surrounding patrons stealing glances at Spencer despite most of them with company.

You decide suits might be your favorite on him. It’s definitely up there.

But as the wine glass threatens to crack between your fingers, you weigh the possibility that maybe⏤just maybe⏤you should reel in your emotions, because you might actually get yourself kicked off the operation.

Now, you’re not jealous. Seriously.

This isn’t jealousy. Spencer and you aren’t even like that. Like, yeah you care about each other (more than what would be considered platonic), but you’re not together together, and there’s certainly not this weird, unspoken agreement that neither of you are to be ‘involved’ with others. Because that would imply you have feelings. More specifically, non-platonic feelings for someone you’re just not ready to admit to.

Then Catherine Adams enters the arena.

Her strides are short, almost dainty, and if you were a less experienced profiler you’d think that she was a normal woman, shy and awkward as any first date would be.

But you know each footstep is calculated, controlled. A perfected facade built on years of practice.

Other than respecting her abilities, you don’t know how to feel about her. From what little you guys could gather from her file, she is little… psycho.

So no, you’re not jealous. 

You’re not jealous when she exchanges shy smiles with Spencer. 

You’re not jealous when she invades his personal bubble. Or when she gropes him for his gun.

No, this isn’t jealousy that burns in your stomach. Oh no no no.

This is fury, your eyes stinging with barely contained rage. And as you imagine the eight different ways you could amputate Adam’s hands with a butterknife (there’s plenty within arms length, you could reach it), it takes Hotch’s stern voice for you to lower it to a simmer.

“(Your Name), calm down,” he crackles into your earpiece.

Hoping to dissuade from yourself, you cover a sickly sweet smile behind your glass, your canines glinting in the light. “Hotch, please, I’m the epitome of calm and collected.”

“We can literally see your teeth grinding on cams, and if we can see it, Cat Adam’s will too⏤”

You huff.

“Now calm down. You look more like a disgruntled divorcee than a satisfied customer.”

Okay, harsh. You almost reply indignantly before you catch JJ’s gaze, her blue eyes warm with enough understanding that it makes your shoulders relax. As much as you appreciate her, you’re supposed to be strangers in this restaurant. She can’t even mouth to you without giving you both away, blowing your covers⏤

“...tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

⏤cover. Welp. There goes that plan.

Immediately you lower your gaze to the rim of your glass, keeping the bitch in your peripheral as JJ clenches her jaw and slides off her stool, trudging off to the kitchen. It’s a chess match; Cat picks each of you off as if you’re pawns, sacrificial pieces, bait, until the restaurant is clear and Morgan, Lewis, and you remain. Gun raised, you try not to sneer as Lewis cuffs the Bomber’s hands behind her back, leading her and the civilians outside. 

“Guess we’re right back where we started. You and me with a gun,” Adams huffs, her tone betraying nothing. Your anger spikes as she grips Reid like a human shield. “Although, I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you.” She stares across the room at Morgan…and you.

She’s looking directly at you.

You frown. “Do I know you?”

Adams snorts, adjusting Reid in front of her, “No, I guess not. Last time we met was years ago, and you were a whole other person at the time. I barely even recognized you.” Her eyes trail over your figure, and your skin crawls as her lips stretch into a cruel smile. A threat. “But you never forget your first, right?”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

In the blink of an eye, you pull the hammer of your firearm, its click echoing through the empty restaurant louder than it should have. Your lips pull back in a snarl, “Shut your mouth, before I do it for you.” 

Her response: a cheshire grin in return.

Huh. You hadn’t used that tone in what feels like forever, your voice laced with the promise of silence and death. It doesn’t feel as foreign as you hoped, and the realization wrenches your gut as you pretend not to notice Reid and Morgan’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes full of questions. Questions you really don’t want to answer. Not now.

Preferably not ever.

So you redirect everyone’s attention back to the situation at hand. It takes little prompting, considering Adams is holding a gun to Reid’s face, and it’s not long when Morgan convinces her to surrender. Like a shadow, you trail behind Morgan as Reid hauls her to the prison transport, your eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

As Reid steps away, as he quietly settles next to you, before Morgan shuts the truck’s double doors Adams catches your eye. Her eyes glisten as her body shudders from hiccups. But she grins at you, wide enough to make your stomach squirm.

You flip her the bird in return.  

For the rest of the night you act natural, keeping your head down. You don’t leave right away, because nothing screams ‘something’s wrong’ than ditching everyone, so you passively agree to check on Garcia despite your grim mood. But at the sight of her, inebriated as she aggressively tells everyone how she loves them⏤loves you⏤you can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across your face (mostly because she’s pinching your cheeks). 

Even if she doesn’t mean to, Garcia manages to brighten your day, and you love her more for that.

After bidding your farewells (swallowing when Morgan shoots you a look that says, ‘this isn’t over’), you walk side by side with Reid, trudging through the tense atmosphere until you realize with a tight chest: he escorted you to your car. For a moment, you both stand at the driver’s side door, a beat of silence passing as you shakily pull out your keys. 

His hands, stuffed in his pockets, clench and unclench as his jaw sets. He’s yet to look you in the eye but you know, and for once you pray⏤to the universe, to whatever deities are out there, to Karma⏤that he’ll let this go, drop the subject. Hopefully never bring it up.

But this is Spencer we’re talking about. He’s your… friend. He’s confused and concerned and he wants to help some way, somehow.

So as you unlock your car, as his lips part, you don’t give him the chance, shoving away your dread. 

“You wanna get dinner?” It comes rushed, fear trickling into your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice. (He does.)

Spencer blinks at you, his mouth agape. “What?”

“It’s just,” You lick your lips, tugging thick air into your lungs as your body screams to run. Your eyes dart from his, looking at the ground, your car, the scuffs on your shoes, and you hate yourself, knowing Spencer notices all of it. “It’s a shame we didn’t get the chance to eat at that expensive restaurant, ya know? It was paid for too.”

Please, don’t ask. Please, don’t ask. 

“...That’s true.” His tone is scarily neutral. 

Looking up, you’re taken aback as he turns away to round the hood of your car to the passenger side door. “What do you think of thai for tonight?” 

You stammer a response, something along the lines of ‘uh⏤yeah, sounds good’ as you clamber into the car after him, fumbling to insert your key into the ignition. Your nerves only worsen by the second as you drive off into the dark, the only sounds coming from the rev of the engine and your heart thundering in your ears. Up ahead the traffic light changes, slowing you to a stop. You glance at Spencer, his purple tie red from the light, his side profile softly outlined in its harsh glow. He remains deathly quiet.

The silent treatment, huh. If he thinks reverse psychology is going to work on you...

He’d be absolutely right. His silence is deafening.

You turn to him, “Spencer⏤”

“You don’t have to.” Your breath catches in your throat, his lips parting and closing as he stumbles for the right words, “I mean, not right now. I-I know this isn’t the best time, but at some point we’re going to have to talk about it. So whenever you’re ready, I⏤” He clears his throat, twisting in his seat and meeting your eyes. His eyes gleam, earnest even in the dark. 

“We’ll be here for you.”

You can’t help gawking at him. Because Spencer’s eyes are inquisitive and kind⏤always have been⏤but right now they’re trained on you, and your face burns as your heart swells. You’re suffocating.

Because you want to tell him⏤all of them.

But fear clutches your heart.

White-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, you face the road again, blinking through unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Spencer nods, relaxing back into his seat. You’re relieved your answer’s enough for now.

The light turns green and you speed off. The grim night turns a little brighter as you fall back into routine with Spencer, the tension slowly lifting, your stomach, once filled with lead, now stuffed with thai food.

You’ll deal with Cat Adams later. She’s behind bars, so you doubt it’ll be anytime soon. You laugh as Spencer curses, soiling another pair of chopsticks when they hit the floor. Yes, you’ll deal with her when you’re ready.

That is, until you’re stopped by another red light.

⏤

AN: no cap i hesitated posting this because i realized after finishing its less of a Spencer Reid x Reader and more a reader-centric. i wanted to establish that reader has a whole backstory sorryyyy i hope yall like it anyway :)))

if you didnt notice, unless stated otherwise almost all my oneshots and FtH are tied together by Mysterious!Reader. yall dont have to but if you read them it helps understand reader better??

When you first see a colony of this species hanging out on the shores and ice, you probably won't think too much about it. Despite the frigid waters and icy land, this region is filled with life. There are plenty of beaches filled with seals, seabirds and other beasts, so this is just another example. Large and blubbery, you may think them as lazy giants, sleeping on the rocks or leisurely taking a dip in the shallows. If there is danger here, it is probably in the depths, where predators wait to ambush an unwary swimmer. It may be tempting to steer your boat closer, either for a better look or to sit in the safety of the shallows. Locals around here, however, would be screaming for you to paddle as fast and far away as you can from this area. Though these beasts may seem slow and oafish, getting too close will make you quickly realize how wrong you are. What you have stumbled upon is a colony of Illhveli, the ones known as the Katthveli. Best not speak this name around that beach, though, lest you wake the slumbering creatures and find how monstrous they can really be. Though they belong to the "evil whales," the Katthveli (or more commonly: the Cat-Whale) is actually a kind of seal. Still mammalian and still a marine species, but not an actual whale. They can leave the water and crawl their way onto shore, though it is hardly graceful. The rocky beaches and icy shores is where they like to group up and rest, forming colonies that can number in the hundreds. Here is where they socialize, sleep and breed, only diving into the ocean to hunt for food or to migrate to better waters. Those in the same area as these colonies will certainly know when the Katthveli are around, as the noise they make is obvious and cacophonous. Their name of "Cat-Whale" is somewhat fitting, as their vocalizations sound just like a cat's. They meow, yowl and hiss, which often throws newcomers for a loop when they first hear it. You would think it was an island of cats, not these corpulent beasts! But these calls are how they communicate with one another, or argue. Mainly argue. Though they do band together in these huge groups, there is plenty of fighting and yelling to be done. Irritation about who stepped on who or someone taking your sunning spot, all of it leading to some screaming and biting. Though this can seem dramatic, just you wait until they really get angry. Their toothy maw certainly belongs to that of a predator, with long sharp teeth meant to hold onto slippery fish. Their diet consists of fish, squid, crustaceans and the occasional seabird. They are opportunistic in their eating, so whatever comes across their path is fair game. If a carcass washes onto shore, the colony will happily devour it, much to the frustration of the local Skeljaskrímsli. They prefer smaller prey, not really going after things their size or larger. In most cases, the larger beast is actually looking to eat them! Though they are an Illhveli, that doesn't mean they don't have predators. Other marine carnivores will target these blubbery beasts, as their bodies will provide plenty of delicious fat and flesh. However, not everyone can eat them, as they have that poisonous flesh that is common for the Illhveli. Some species can safely eat them, others cannot. The ones that certainly can are other larger Illhveli, like the Red Crest, using its large toothy maw to grab them and rip them apart. So this toxic meat isn't a foolproof defense, so why not something else? How about...being the most insanely aggressive and vicious little blights in all the oceans? Yeah, they really like that option.

Though they can seem cumbersome and awkward, Katthveli can become surprisingly vicious and violent when the mood hits them. Due to being a preyed upon so much, they are quick to go on the defensive and that tactic is to go absolutely insane. They lash out with their sharp teeth, nasty tusks and hook clawed flippers, looking to do as much damage as possible. Their large size means that running isn't an option, so they will always stick to fight over flight. They face their attackers head on and will even charge them, using it as an intimidation tactic and to get close enough to impale them. Their clawed flippers are good at climbing on slippery ice and wet rock, but they can do some horrible damage if used against flesh. Their large tusks are quite sharp and are powered by a muscly neck, that lets the Cat-Whale swing and stab these blades with incredible strength. Behind all that is a massive hefty body, which can batter and crush foes. On land, they can squash attackers with a powerful body slam, and in water they can ram foes like a charging bull. All this weaponry helps them fend off attackers and make any predator question their menu. If an ambush fails or the Katthveli has friends nearby, most carnivores will break off the hunt, as they dare not risk such a fight. Obviously nothing attacks a colony of Cat-Whales, as getting close would mean certain death. Besides, the Katthveli have enough trouble with other Katthveli to need any land predators. When mating season kicks in, their crazed aggression becomes even worse. Males fight with one another to protect their harems, and these battles get bloody. The claws and tusks tear through skin, as they rip into each other to determine who is the strongest. Thick blubber prevents deadly blows, but their scarred bodies show that these battles are not just show. At times, females can even get into it, as they have smaller tusks but just as much aggression. Those who overstep their boundaries or get too close to their young will face their wrath, which is quite often. In such cramped colonies, there is always an excuse to get angry at your neighbor and start biting. With the amount of scars and blood you see on these beasts, you would think they just escaped the jaws of a hungry predator, but in reality they were just having another territorial spat. This aggression of theirs is applied to all things, and that is including the locals. Katthveli colonies are avoided like the plague, and few dare even paddle near those waters. All it takes is the slightest offense to get one of these Cat-Whales spitting mad, and they will launch an all-out assault on those who anger them. Boats are rammed, nets are shredded, and they may even try to climb into the vessel to get some bites in. Their tusks and claws help hold on, and they will throw their bulk around to get closer to their foes. Smaller crafts are quickly tipped over or sunk by these boarding attempts, which dumps the poor occupants into the water. In that realm, no one stands a chance.

 If a Katthveli grabs onto the boat and tries to climb on, you have to do everything in your power to get them off before they pull you under. This is not an easy thing to do, as they are hissing and snarling the whole time, while trying to snap at you with their bladed jaws. One fisherman I spoke to said that he survived by thrusting his lit lantern into the beast's open mouth, the burning oil driving the creature back into the water. Often the advice is to jam something into their mouth or eye, but the trick is doing that without losing a hand. Killing them outright is nearly impossible, as their thick blubber dampens all attacks and makes it difficult to strike an organ. Waiting for them to bleed out is not an option, as they will tear you to pieces long before that happens. Slaying this intruder may not even solve the problem, as one tale I heard said that the occupants of a boat successful killed a boarding Katthveli, only for the dead weight to drag their whole vessel down. So it is best to avoid these waters entirely, as the ocean already offers enough misery. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------ And for the next evil whale we have: a walrus! It's a walrus, the description is literally a walrus what do you want from me?

Requesting some nasty with All American Massacre era Choptop, or... Notchop at that point? Maybe him going out to find some dinner at a bar before he actually sees reader and is like "Nah I can think of some better things to do with this one" flirting, which then ends with them messing around in that combination fairylight torture chamber we have seen in the trailers? Obviously there is not really characterization of him at that point so I encourage you to go as headcanon as you would like. Just.... God, Mosley looking like a crusty ass punk in the few pictures we got really does it for me and I need to get rained by THAT version of the character specifically.

It's Been Years, Love. (AAM!Chop Top fic)

Pairing: All American Massacre!Chop Top Sawyer x AFAB!reader Word Count: 0.9k Warnings: Knives, weaponry. blood hint, unprotected sex, just some weird smut A/N: I set this up in case of a sequel, so if anybody enjoys this first one-- feel free to request a description of what went down that night!

Alone in a bustling bar… this wasn't how you planned your Friday night to go. You let out an exasperated sigh, eyes glancing down in sorrow. Around you are laughing, conversing bar goers whomst seem to be having the time of their life-- but not you. That was until a greasy-appearing man slid into the unoccupied seat next to you, staring at you expectantly. He adorned a pair of purple sunglasses and an outfit that screamed hippie. His silver headplate glimmers under the bar’s lighting.

"I wouldn't expect somebody like you to be all alone in a place like this." The man comments, chuckling nervously. You cock an eyebrow.

"Somebody like… what?" You ask, confused if he meant an insult or a compliment. It could've meant anything.

"Somebody so… deliciously attractive." He answers with a lick of his lips. He slides his arm around your shoulder and orders you a drink, demanding the bartender put it on his tab. As you wait you take in his looks. He screams bastard with his slouched posture but warrior with his exposed head plate.

Drink after drink, the two of you start to become closer. You learn his name is Bobby Sawyer, but you can call him Chop Top. You learn his experiences in Vietnam, you learn about his years in prison. With every word, his hand slowly slides across your body and gropes your breast. You stumble on your words, trying your best to not let out a moan.

"Do ya wanna go back to my place?" Chop whispers into your ear, licking up your neck and onto your lobe. He grunts into your ear, giving it a gentle nibble. Your answer is an immediate yes, allowing Chop to lead you out of the bar.

You arrive in a musty truck, various bones hanging off the front mirror. What kind of animal could these possibly come from?

"Oh! M'brother Bubba made these for me." Chop explains as he sees your confused glance, "My brothers are… butchers."

The two of you arrive at Chop's place, surprising you at its messy state. The air chokes your lungs, a thick level of dust covering everything. The house looked like somebody hadn't been there for ten years, Chop was being genuine about his stay in jail. You'd think he'd clean up once arriving home. On the counters are various weapons and tools, some clearly used with some type of dried red substance on them. Your gut screams to question it, but the man seducing you seemed too good to pass up. Chop guides you to a suspended blanket fort, fairy lights strung across to provide romantic mood lighting. Inside are various pillows to provide comfort. You lay down, Chop sitting on top of you. Then it begins.

Chop leans in for a kiss, his hands holding his body above your shoulders. Your lips meet, beginning a passionate dance. You fight for dominance, kissing harder and harder. His wet tongue slips into your mouth, letting him win this battle. You gasp, panting for air as his fiery energy takes your breath away. Chop pulls away, taking his personal hunting knife and pointing it at the collar of your shirt. He cocks an eyebrow in question of consent, your longing eyes approving. He begins cutting off your top, then your bra. Your bare chest stings in the anticipating air.

"I could do anything to you…" Chop groans, gently tracing the knife down your exposed skin. "You're just my prey."

"If you could do ANYTHING…" You begin, grasping the excited bulge in his pants, "then show me what this can do."

Chop eagerly begins undressing, pulling off his tie-dye shirt and custom stitched jeans, along with some colorful boxers. Out flings his erect member, long and slender. He's dripping with precum in pure excitement. Chop tugs off your pants and panties, throwing them off to the side. His long fingers slide across your entrance, feeling your yearning wetness. Then he enters- out of your lips escapes a moan. Chop takes his time, slowly pulling in and out of your expectant sex. A plea emerges from your lips, a moan of "please, Bobby". Then he ravages you. His cock thrusts aggressively, speedily, filling you with wild pleasure. His lengthy cock pushes against your g-spot. Your back curves, your feet push into the floor, your head digs back into the pile of pillows. The aura of the room is lust as all the two of you can hear is your bodies coming together and sapped moans.

"I'm gonna-- I'm gonna!" Chop grunts, speeding up his pounding. Your sex fills with his warmth. He pulls out, droplets of his slime spilling from your pussy.

He flops down next to you, breath heavy from pouring his energy into you. Your sex is empty now, lonely. You sit atop of Chop, grasping his knife and pointing it at his chest.

"I never finished…" You pout, twirling the hunting knife in your hands, "Why should you be the only one having fun?"

Under you, his member raises against your sex. His erection throbs impatiently in a matter of seconds. His longing eyes gaze upon you, leaving him speechless.

"Maybe use that knife a little bit more and you'll get it." Chop growls, a shit eating grin spreading across his flushed face.

The night is full of passionate embracing, countless amounts embracing, now including various items and weaponry. The two of you are like rabbits, switching who's on top and who uses what. It seems the knife really excited him.

Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life. 

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again. 

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch. 

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours. 

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent. 

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB. 

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly.  What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.

⤷ december 14 ▸ don’t leaf me hanging ft. bakugou

summary: holiday parties aren’t the best way to spend a pleasant, snowy evening, especially when you bump into your frenemy practically everywhere you go. your evening takes a turn for the worse when you’re stuck together beneath the most odious sprig of the season: mistletoe. how will you get out of this one?

warnings: slight hint of college au, some cursing, mentions of drinking, unwanted advances

wc: 1.9k

a/n: this was horrible but terribly gratifying to write at the same time,,, low key my first time writing for both bakugou and bnha and high key v nervous about posting this since its like a billion years late but i guess its a christmas present?

note: find the rest of the advent calendar here!

Idle chatter rings in your ears as you cradle a mug of now cooled hot chocolate. The room was pleasantly warm, but the onset of partygoers stifled you. Everything was swelteringly suffocating and you gave Mina a sheepish smile. “I’m gonna go refill my drink, I’ll be right back.”

“(Y/N), you haven’t even touched—”

You paid her no heed and all but bolted towards the kitchen. Immediately the atmosphere quieted, the living room’s noise dulling to an easily ignored thrum. You leaned against the marbled counter, fingers skimming the slight pores of the mineral. 

“What’re you doing here?” You heard a growl from the other side of the table, the tenacity of its timbre almost making you drop your cup. You spun to meet scarlet eyes that practically burned into you. Immediately, a scowl pulled at your lips. Of course, it was none other than the resident pain in your ass, nuisance extraordinaire: Bakugou Katsuki. 

He had it in for you the day you’d met, that much you knew. It was as if he took one look at you and dismissed you as what he generously liked to call ‘an extra’. As if he couldn’t be bothered to dignify you with his presence, let alone a conversation. Normally, you’d brush it off but something about it all irked you to no end. You made it your mission to be around him as much as possible, learn what makes him tick as well as what made him hate you so. Initially, he reacted as predicted. He practically leveled the building that first day in his booming voice and irate fury, to which you responded with nothing but a laugh. As enigmatic as he may seem, Bakugou was surprisingly predictable. 

The weeks passed by and you’d come to notice his yelling had toned down, not significant enough to be perceptible by the rest, but his words no longer held the same sharp edge as before though his aggressivity was as boisterous as ever. Soon enough you began to feel more at ease in his presence, even going as far as looking forward to the next time you’d see him at your lectures, in the halls, out at lunch. Catching yourself scanning the area for his presence every time you’d enter a room. In short, you had fallen for him. Hard.

Together you fell into a steady rhythm. He allowed you to remain in his vicinity unscathed and you didn’t have to tiptoe around his easily detonated temper. 

You quickly learned his moods were more fluctuant than you ever could’ve guessed. The days leading to the small holiday party you found yourself in were riddled with the same explosive disposition from when you’d first met. Every stinging barb and taunt wounded you a little more than you’d like to admit. And then, radio silence. You no longer studied together, he no longer met your eyes when you had made a particularly interesting comment. Back to the very beginning when he didn’t even know you existed. You didn’t know what hurt more. 

You forced yourself to take a deep breath and smooth your words into a clipped, polite speech.

“I’m in the kitchen, same as you. Do you have a problem with that?”

The blonde balked, opening his mouth to spew a retort, when Mina stumbled into the kitchen, bright smiles and full of boundless cheer. “(Y/N) since you’re in here would you mind getting me and—” 

Her words died on her lips, tripping over each other as he planted her hands on your shoulders and tugged you away from the blonde, an uneasy grin on her face. “We’ll be going now.”

You gave him what you hoped looked like a sincere smile; one that hid the painfully evident panic that shot through your limbs. You knew well enough not to provoke him nor did you have the energy to do so. 

Mina stopped pulling once you were safely outside in the hallway. Silence followed as her hands slipped from their perch on your shoulders to your own, shaking them lightly to force you to look at her.

“What was that?” The incredulity that filled her words matched her bug-eyed expression, swerving as she alternated from staring at you and the room you’d just exited. 

“Actually, I don’t know.” You were equally as shocked and stumped as the poor girl. 

“Well, in any case, I don’t think it’s worth ruining Kirishima’s party over whatever it is that’s been going on between you two lately. Just in case, it’ll be safer to avoid him for the rest of the evening, yeah?”

You nodded numbly and allowed her to take you back to the living room now outfitted with a hastily put together dance floor. Mina was right, anyhow. From just one quick look towards the rest of the room, you could tell everyone was enjoying their evening, basking in the warmth coming from the central heating as well as the close proximity. There’s no need to need to spoil the festivities with a silly quarrel you could fix any other day. However, there was one slight issue with your plan. Out of the corner of your eye, you’d catch a glimpse of spiky blonde hair. No matter where you’d go, he’d still be there, somewhere. Every move you made seemed to draw him closer. With a huff, you maneuvered around the throng of dancers to make your way back to the kitchen. There’s still a chance he’d follow you, but at least you’d be further away from the vigilant stares of the crowd. 

As you thought, Bakugou was already leaning against the marbled counter once you stepped in. 

“Mind telling me why you’re avoiding me?”

Before you could answer him, someone else stumbled into the kitchen seemingly towards you, all wobbling steps and inebriated smiles. His drink sloshed in the dented plastic cup he held onto so tightly, rivulets of it spilling down the side and splashing onto his clothes. “You’re really pretty, would you give me your number?”

You scoffed at his sudden forwardness, a scowl pulling at your lips once you had fully registered his words. “Why should I?”

The man, startled at your response, was silent for a beat. Seemingly regaining his composure, he pressed closer into you, backing you further into the counter. “Well,” he leaned towards your ear as if his next words were to be shared only with you. “If you do give me your number, maybe I can call you up and I could show you a good time. Whaddaya say, pretty thing?”

Words failed to form, tripping over each other as you stumbled away from him, away from whatever he thought he was doing. You bumped into something solid as you backtracked, turning around to see that it had been the fiery blonde himself. 

“That’s not happening, asshole, we’ll be going now.” absolute venom dripped from his words as he smiled cruelly, his lips contorting into something akin to a sneer as he takes your hand in his, tugging you away. 

Despite the constant abrasiveness in his everyday mannerisms,  you couldn’t help but marvel at the gentle manner he used to intertwine his fingers with yours. He wasn’t rough in pulling you from the kitchen, he didn’t crush your hand in his grasp or practically pull your arm out of its socket. He was almost sweet, coaxing you away from the situation. 

He only stopped once you were a safe distance away, turned in the direction you’d come from, to presumably make sure the offender hadn’t followed. You’d been too preoccupied with the softness of his touch to notice him watching the kitchen doorway and then the rest of the crowd once he noticed the other student sift in, glaring sharply every time their eyes met. Suffice to say, you were probably not going to hear from him in a long time. 

“Bakugou?” He let out a noise of acknowledgment, eyes still trained on something across the room. 

“You can let go of my hand now.” 

He blinked owlishly, looking down at your fingers as if he now just realized what he had been doing. “You never answered my question.”

“And you haven’t let go of my hand.”

His next words were drowned out by tumultuous cheers and wild shouts of the other students. They’d formed a crowd behind the two of you. Why?

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” You looked to Bakugou in confusion, who responded by pointing up to the top of the doorway to spot a small tangle of mistletoe lies poorly taped to the wood. 

Realization dawned on you and frustration ebbed into your rapidly spiraling thoughts. Of all people to be stuck under that odious herb, it just had to be the one who sent your poor heart into overdrive every time you’d catch one of the softer, more peaceful looks he’d sport around you. Part of you wanted to grab him and plant your lips on his, that part of you had longed for such an opportunity for a while now, longed for him. The other part of you was caught up in trying to process Bakugou’s radical change in behavior. From one minute to the next he had gone from his usual brutally harsh demeanor to holding your hand so tenderly as if he was scared to hurt you.

“We don’t really have to do this if you don’t want to,” You were unsure of what you wanted, what you thought of him. He said nothing as he gently placed his hands on your cheeks, drawing closer till his lips met yours. The world drowned out around you. Electricity surged through your every nerve and you shivered as you felt him nip at your bottom lip. You drown in the taste of spiced cinnamon and his tongue swiping along the roof of your mouth. It’s dizzying and you almost couldn’t believe it had happened once he pulls away. 

Once you look into his eyes you’re suddenly aware of the crowd’s roar behind you. The full weight of the past few moments settle in and you don’t know if you want to slap him or kiss him again. 

“You never answered my question, but I have been treating you like shit all week. You don’t deserve it. You really don’t,” he repeated, tapering off as he fumbled for the right words to say.

“I got scared of my feelings, of what they meant, and I pushed you away because of it.”

“That’s putting it lightly, Bakugou,” You let the ghost of a smile pull at your lips. After all, that’s probably the closest he’d get to an apology.

“Dumbass, don’t interrupt me while I’m trying to tell you that I like you—” His cheeks burned once he realized what he’d said. You mirrored his reaction, eyes widening at his words.

“You like me?” Your smile quirked into a full grin as you pulled him back towards you in another kiss. Immediately his hands shot to your waist, pressing you closer to him as you lost yourself in the way his lips melded against yours. He’s everywhere, up the curve of your spine and down your arms, kissing you with a fervent urgency you’d never known before. The feeling of melting so deliciously against him made your nerves sing. A sudden giddiness spun through you as you pulled away and mirrored Bakugou’s radiant smile. 

“Luckily, I just so happen to like you too.”

taglist: @tsumuseum @amoroushero @mrslordexplosionmurder @ssat0ris​ @osamusriceballs @seraphgabrielle​ @1642lux

strike through means I wasn’t able to tag you

additional note: event taglist is open! send an ask if you’d like to be added <3

Wooow, first time writing a fic for this fandom. I’m stupidly nervous. Also I only just finished SDR2 so I’m just gonna make this a Non-Despair AU in case there’s any big events in the next canon games I don’t know about yet. Plus i want everybody to be alive and well (chapter four hurt). This is also the first time in years I’ve written any fanfiction, so forgive me if I’m rusty. I do love this pairing. Can be taken romantically or platonic in this one (as this isn’t my only ship for Hajime so I tried to keep it ambiguous). - Circle

Also posted to AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/33332596

Warning: sickfic, descriptions of vomiting (I don’t go into much detail), nightmares/general anxiety.

Kazuichi was the only person Hajime knew with a worse sleep schedule than his own. For months he hadn’t realised - everybody had their own space on the island and Hajime was occupied enough with his own fatigue - but as Fuyuhiko saw how much Kazuichi grew to trust and confide in Hajime, he reported the issue.

“He’s like a fucking baby,” Fuyuhiko muttered bitterly. “If he gets tinkering on something he’ll be at it for days without sleeping. You gotta make sure he doesn’t overdo it. I can’t babysit that dumbass by myself.”

Hajime nodded, letting the insults sail over his head. Fuyuhiko may swear and yell and tell everyone over and over that Kazuichi and Hajime and Akane were the bane of his existence, but he was really the closest thing their group had to a mum friend.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Hajime promised. It was an easy enough job. At least it gave him something to do. Whenever Hajime found himself unable to sleep now, he’d go hunting for Kazuichi. More often than not he’d be at the airport, dismantling or building things as the mood struck him, and all Hajime had to do was hook his collar and ignore the whining as he dragged his friend away to bed.

But that night was different. Hajime could sense it the second he walked into the airport. Since the other students rarely went in there, Kazuichi had taken over the space, scattering bits of parts and machines in various stages of completion. But he wasn’t hunched over with a fiddly screwdriver or hidden underneath some big contraption with only his legs visible. He was sitting against a large machine, resting his head against the cool metal, his thumb rubbing at the motor oil embedded under his bitten fingernails.

That was concerning. Kazuichi was never still. He was forever biting his fingernails or twirling his wrench idly in his hands or messing with the pockets on his jumpsuit, dragging the zips up and down over and over. It used to drive Hajime mad, but after knowing Kazuichi for so long Hajime could recognise it as a nervous response and he knew not to complain about it.

Because kazuichi was fragile. Not physically - he could easily haul heavy engine parts around and didn’t buckle when Akane jumped on his back - but it was pretty easy to upset him. When Fuyuhiko had started mocking Kazuichi over his obsession with Sonia - “you gotta bully the shitty behaviours out of people, Hajime.” - it had led to Kazuichi knocking at Hajime’s cottage in the middle of the night, tearfully asking him why Fuyuhiko hated him.

Sometimes Hajime really wished they had an Ultimate Therapist on the island.

So now, looking across the abandoned airport to Kazuichi behaving in a very not-Kazuichi way, Hajime proceeded with caution. He made sure to step purposefully, his footsteps loud on the linoleum floor; he’d once surprised Kazuichi from behind and almost received a wrench to his temple… as well as a burst eardrum from the screaming.

Kazuichi looked up, hastily fumbling with his glasses and shoving them into his pocket. He hated anyone seeing him wear them, so Hajime knew not to comment.

Usually Kazuichi’s face brightened when he saw any of his friends, but now his smile was wary, reserved. “Hey, Hajime,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue.

“When was the last time you slept?” Hajime asked bluntly. “Or ate?”

Kazuichi turned back to face the hunk of metal beside him (unidentifiable to Hajime), though he still didn’t start tinkering. “Not hungry.”

“That doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“I slept yesterday. I think… It’s Monday, right?”

Hajime sighed heavily and hooked the collar of Kazuichi’s jumpsuit with his fingers. “Come on, get up. Bedtime. You’re not even doing anything.”

“Mmn. Can’t seem to focus tonight.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted. Go to bed.”

“Okay! Jeez, man, you’re acting like my mother,” Kazuichi whined, sounding more like himself.

The pair walked out into the cool night air together, Hajime taking hold of Kazuichi’s sleeve when he stumbled. Just how long had he been awake? He was acting like a zombie.

“Fuyuhiko said you weren’t sleeping,” Hajime grumbled. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Fuyuhiko said it? So why did he make you come get me? Are you sure he doesn’t hate me?” Souda pressed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I told you, he was only harsh because he wanted you to leave poor Sonia alone.”

“Well. I have been, haven’t I?” he muttered.

Hajime assumed that was meant to be a rhetorical question, but it came out like Kazuichi was looking for reassurance. It hadn’t occurred to him how often Souda seemed to do that, as if he was worried anything he said would elicit a bad reaction.

“I’ve even been nice to Gundham,” Kazuichi said, much more irritably. “Though that’s a damn uphill battle, Hajime, I’m telling you. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about half the time.”

Hajime snorted. Watching Souda trying to interact with Gundham was becoming a running joke between the other students now. There was always a five second pause when Gundham finished talking before Kazuichi could reply, his face contorted as he hastily tried to translate.

“You’ll get used to Gundham. I didn’t understand him much at first either.” Hajime frowned as Kazuichi wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “Are you cold?”

“I’m freezing. Maybe I do need to sleep better. I’m not feeling so good…” He stumbled again as they went across the uneven boardwalk to the cabins, bumping Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime caught hold of him instinctively - then paused for a second. He quickly cupped both hands over Kazuichi’s cheeks.

“H-Hajime?!” Souda reeled back so fast he almost toppled right off the platform. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You have a fever, Kazuichi,” Hajime groaned. “You’re burning up. That’s why you don’t feel good.”

“I do?” Souda cupped his own cheeks contemplatively. “Huh. That makes sense. I couldn’t focus properly all evening.”

Hajime sighed heavily. Souda could be so oblivious at times it was hard to believe he was so talented with his machines. He seemed so much more confident when he spoke about that stuff. When he’d started getting closer to Kazuichi, Hajime once asked about some little mechanical toy Souda was making - and Souda’s face had just lit up. He talked Hajime’s ear off for a good fifteen minutes about every little piece of the toy and how it worked. Hajime didn’t understand the majority of it, but he always made sure to ask Kazuichi about his various projects after that. Souda was delighted every time, his words tripping over each other with excitement and his eyes shining like beacons. For a second Hajime wondered if that was how it felt to be Sonia.

“Well, you’d better come with me for now,” Hajime said. “I know you don’t have any first aid supplies in your cabin, and we don’t need Mikan to tell us you have some standard virus. I’ve got painkillers and fever reducers.” Hajime held onto Kazuichi by the elbow, guiding him along to the correct cabin. He seemed beyond argument. He flopped onto Hajime’s bed as soon as they went inside, curling onto his side and closing his eyes.

Hajime hovered over him, feeling a pang of anxiety. He wasn’t used to caring for any sick people except Nagito, and caring for Nagito was a wholly bizarre experience all around. Hajime had never seen anybody swing so wildly between self-deprecating, passive aggressive and strangely clingy when he was forced to babysit a sick Nagito. Hajime figured Kazuichi might fall into the clingy category.

Hajime grabbed fever reducers from the bathroom cabinet and went to crouch beside his bed, shaking Kazuichi’s shoulder. Maybe it was the fever or the several days without sleep, but Kazuichi already seemed to be breathing deeper. There was a red flush across both his cheekbones, garishly bright against his pink hair. Hajime checked his forehead again; it was burning.

“Hey, dude, wake up. You’ve gotta take some medicine and go back to your own cabin,” Hajime said, shaking Kazuichi’s shoulder harder. Kazuichi whined irritably, reaching out a clumsy hand without opening his eyes. He managed to find Hajime’s face and tried to shove him away weakly.

“Kazuichi!” Hajime caught hold of his wrist, sighing. “You have motor oil on your hands. Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to take medicine, but go sleep in your own cabin. This happens to be my bed.”

Kazuichi didn’t move, breathing deeply. Hajime wasn’t sure if he was actually sleeping or just ignoring him.

“I kissed Sonia,” Hajime lied.

No response. Hm. Maybe Kazuichi really was asleep.

Well, what was Hajime meant to do now? He didn’t feel mean enough to boot his sick friend off the bed. He supposed he could go stay in Souda’s room, but he didn’t know where his key was, and he didn’t want to go rifling through Kazuichi’s pockets for it while he was sleeping - and maybe Souda needed somebody with him in case his fever got worse. Fevers could turn nasty, right? Not that Hajime would be any use, but he could go get Mikan.

Sighing resignedly, Hajime went to the unoccupied side of his bed, lying back to back with Kazuichi. Most of the bedsheets were trapped under his sick companion no matter now Hajime yanked them, but Souda was so hot Hajime was soon uncomfortably warm. The sleeping boy was taking up a lot of the bed too; he had Kazuichi’s hair in his face and elbows jabbing his ribs no matter what sleeping position Hajime tried. He sighed again. “You’re an utter pain to deal with, Kazuichi,” he mumbled into his pillow. “You need to take care of yourself before you get really sick.”

Hajime, though sure he’d never be able to even doze in this situation, must have slept at some point, because he woke with a start to find the bed shaking so violently he almost toppled off it. In his drowsy state Hajime wondered for a second if the island had any seismic activity, but the earthquake seemed confined to the bed alone. He sat up and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned to his sleeping friend.

Kazuichi was shaking violently, curled into a foetal position. His face had bleached several shades whiter and his fists were clenched tight, crumpling the bedsheets. His brow was furrowed and he made intermittent whines in the back of his throat, barely audible. Whatever dream was playing in his feverish head, it clearly wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Kazuichi,” Hajime called, shaking the sleeping man’s shoulder. Hajime could feel the heat radiating through Kazuichi’s clothes. “Come on, man, wake up.”

When he received no response, he shook harder, momentarily panicked. It was a mistake. Kazuichi jolted awake with a scream, the momentum sending him tumbling right off the bed onto the floor. He banged his head hard on the skirting board.

“Shit! Fuck, Souda, are you okay?” Hajime cried, hurrying over to Kazuichi. Souda scrambled backwards in a panic, clonking his head all over again when he hit the wall. His eyes hadn’t focused yet and he was breathing far too quickly. Hajime was starting to think he really should fetch Mikan.

“Kazuichi, it’s just me. Hajime. You know, your…” He paused, cringing. Only Kazuichi ever called them by that dumb name. “Your soul friend.”

Kazuichi looked up, locking eyes with Hajime. He didn’t stop shaking, but his breathing calmed slightly. For what felt like several minutes, both boys stared helplessly at each, unsure what to do or say. Souda swallowed thickly and finally whispered in a hoarse, rasping voice, “I’m gonna puke.”

“What?” That certainly broke Hajime out of the awkward staring contest. He grabbed hold of Souda by the wrist and yanked him across the bedroom to the bathroom, shoving him firmly towards the toilet. He turned to leave - he didn’t want to witness any of that - when something snagged onto the back of his shirt.

“Are you serious?” Hajime groaned. Souda felt too nauseated to dare opening his mouth, but he tugged insistently at Hajime’s shirt.

Hajime paused. Part of him - maybe even most of him - really wanted to brush Kazuichi’s hand away and flee the room before anything gross started happening. But Souda looked so… pathetic, sitting there trying not to vomit, still shaky and tearful from the nightmare, his hair tangled across his sweaty face.

Damn it. Hajime shouldn’t have looked at him.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, kneeling beside Souda on the bathroom floor. He hastily gathered Kazuichi’s messy hair away from his face as the sick boy leaned further over the toilet. “You owe me big time for this. Especially when I end up catching this from you.”

Grumbling aside, Hajime stayed, managing not to complain or pull too many faces when Kazuichi was vomiting. He focused on holding Souda’s hair out of the way, glad he had one job he could manage. This comforting thing was way out of his depth. Souda kept one hand reaching backwards to clasp Hajime’s shirt, as if he didn’t quite trust him not to run away.

When the retching finally tapered off, Hajime released Souda’s hair and reached up to flush the toilet, grimacing. “Better?”

Kazuichi made a noise between a whine and a sob, head resting on the toilet seat.

“Well, at least it’s over. I’m gonna go grab you some water, okay?”

He stood up, but Kazuichi hastily lifted his head, looking outraged. “You’re leaving me? I could be dying here!”

“You’re not dying, Souda. Honestly, sometimes I think you should’ve been Ultimate Drama Queen.”

“Stay with me.” Kazuichi shuffled away from the toilet and latched onto Hajime leg.

“Souda, it will take me literally thirty seconds to grab a bottle of water. Now get off.” Hajime tried to yank his leg free, but Souda had a strong grip, even when ill.

“Nope. Don’t leave.”

Hajime sighed heavily. “Then get up and come back to the bed.”

Souda slumped down onto the cool linoleum floor, making sure to keep his arms around Hajime’s ankle. “Don’t wanna move. Everything hurts.”

“Oh, for fuck sake!” Hajime tried to pull Souda up himself, but Souda let his body go limp, sprawling across the bathroom floor, and Hajime couldn’t lift him up when he was dead weight like that.

“You know that’s exactly what toddlers do when they don’t want you picking them up,” Hajime snapped. Honestly, this was almost as bad as Nagito. Why did everybody mess with him when they were sick?

“I can see why. It’s very effective,” Kazuichi muttered.

“I could just leave, you know. Just say fuck it and let you lie there on your own.”

“Don’t.” The jesting tone had disappeared from Souda’s voice. He looked close to tears again, flat on his back and staring up at Hajime pleadingly.

Hajime tried to hold onto his frustration, but he couldn’t. Not with Kazuichi looking at him like that. He sighed and sat on the floor beside Souda, putting a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Keep your hand there,” Kazuichi mumbled. “It’s cold.”

“Fine. But if you let me leave I could get you a cold cloth for your head.”

“Noooo…”

“Okay, okay.” Hajime paused. Souda’s eyelids were drooping again. If he wanted to ask, Hajime had to do it quickly. “Hey, Kazuichi..?”

“Mn?”

“What happened? Earlier, I mean.”

“I puked.”

“No, you dope. Earlier than that. When you woke up. You seemed really terrified. Were you dreaming?” Hajime was already regretting asking. Kazuichi was sick and over-emotional. They were sitting on the bathroom floor, for God’s sake. Nothing good could come of emotional conversations on a bathroom floor.

There was another silence, so long Hajime checked to see if Kazuichi had dozed off. His eyes were wide open now, staring at the ceiling. “It was just a dream. That’s all.”

“Do you remember what it was about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime sighed. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. But it clearly freaked you out really bad. If there’s something you’re worried about or something that’s scaring you, I can-“ Hajime stopped as Kazuichi sat up abruptly. He kept his face turned to the wall, but Hajime heard the sniffles, saw his shoulders start shaking.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered helplessly. “Kazuichi, I’m sorry. I’ll just be quiet. You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m messing this all up, I’m such a fucking idiot sometimes.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Kazuichi sobbed. “So stupid I still dream about him! Why can’t he just go away!” He went on talking, but he was howling too hard for Hajime to understand. He’d seen Souda cry countless times before, but this was different somehow. This wasn’t just wailing because some girl he liked had turned him down. This was raw, painful terror.

“Hey hey, calm down! You’re gonna make yourself sick again,” Hajime said, trying hard to keep the panic out of his own voice. He took hold of Kazuichi’s wrists, pulling him gently away from the wall. He’d meant to lay Souda down in the same position as before, but Souda instantly fell against Hajime’s chest, practically knocking him over.

“Right. Um. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” Hajime mumbled, patting his sobbing friend awkwardly. He wasn’t used to embracing people. It felt strange and unnatural but not unpleasant - and Souda clearly needed a hug more than anything else right now. “Souda, breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe. The fever is probably making it worse. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about the nightmare.”

“Home,” Kazuichi gasped.

“Huh?”

“I was dreaming about being back at home.”

Oh God. Where was that Ultimate Therapist again? Hajime didn’t know how to handle this. He couldn’t sort his own problems, let alone anyone else’s. “Oooh. Okay. Shit. Your dad..? You mentioned him once before.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about it.”

“Okay. Sorry. So your dream was a memory? When he… hurt you?” Hajime guessed.

The sobbing, which had been gradually calming, quickly returned to near-hyperventilating.

“Sorry, sorry. Breathe, okay?” Hajime’s own heart was thumping hard. This was way more than he could handle. “Look… You’re away from there. He’s literally across an ocean. It’s just me and you here. Because you usurped my bed tonight.”

Kazuichi gave a snort that could’ve been a laugh. “It’s not… not usually this bad,” he said, his voice still jerky with sobs. “I-I can handle it on my own. The nightmares.”

“Fevers make nightmares worse. I think. I’d have to check with Mikan,” Hajime said. “But at least you were here this time.” He was surprised to find he really meant that. He couldn’t bear to think of Souda dealing with all that on his own.

They sat in silence for a long time, until Souda’s sobs died down to sniffles, his head still resting on Hajime’s chest. The front of Hajime’s shirt was now damp with tears and snot, and Souda’s feverish body was like a furnace, but he didn’t suggest they move. After a long time he found he’d wound his arms around Kazuichi’s shoulders.

“Are you still awake?” Hajime whispered eventually.

“Mn. Barely…”

“Listen, this is important. If you have dreams like that any other night, you can come over here. If you want. Just knock hard so I wake up.”

Kazuichi shifted in his arms to look at Hajime’s face. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t feel like you’re stuck with me.”

“Maybe I don’t mind being stuck with you,” Hajime retorted.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Kazuichi’s face, though he was still red and tear-stained. “Then you’re fucking crazy.”

“It’s not crazy to want to be your friend, Souda. So will you ask me for help next time you dream something like that? Please?”

Kazuichi wound his arms around Hajime’s middle and squeezed so hard it made Hajime gasp. “Okay. I’ll come get you.” He paused. “Thanks, Hajime.”

Kazuichi fell asleep soon after, still pinning Hajime to the bathroom floor with his weight. And though Hajime would moan about how sore and stiff he was the next morning, he was still glad Souda came to him for help. Just about.

Post Arkhelios

Adam stayed by his nephew’s side as long as he was allowed. He hadn’t been allowed in the operating room, but there was no removing him from the recovery area.

The bullet had gone clean through Roman’s chest, so fortunately there was nothing to remove, and once the bullet was found, it could easily be compared to the one that had killed Abraham Helios. Roman had lost a lot of blood, and there was still considerable damage caused by the bullet, but everyone agreed that he’d likely recover from this attack. Malika had stumbled upon him in just enough time to save him.

Malika had been equally difficult to remove from the recovery area. Adam at least had staff privileges, while Malika was in the recovery area by sheer force of will. No one dared escort her out when she was that intense about staying. The hospital hadn’t really hired any security in the past decade since their previous most serious case had been Zane Hydes eating fifty grilled cheese sandwiches in one night and becoming quite ill from it. They’d never needed security to take on family members overstepping proper procedures before. At least both Wanda and Salem were directly impacted by Roman’s shooting, and probably would approve any budget increase the hospital asked for.

There had been another positive change caused by the shooting. Malika had actually embraced her son Adam, and he may have been hallucinating it, but he thought he may have heard her whisper that she was proud of him. After years of her being indifferent at best towards him, Adam wasn’t sure he knew how to process this sudden display of maternal praise.

Omar and Kamalani were so beside themselves with worry, they didn’t even bicker with each other as they sat next to their unconscious son. Omar left his spouses and kids at home for obvious reasons, but Wbuna had sent along homemade muffins to supplement the horrible cafeteria food in support of the family. Salem had eaten a few before Malika’s arm had “slipped” and dropped them in the trash.

“I should have had him living with me,” Omar groaned finally. “This would never have happened if I-”

“If what?” Kamalani snapped. “What would you have done? What have you ever done?”

“What have I done? I didn’t abandon him for months without any explanation or even a goodbye.”

“No, you just let your incompetent parents raise him for you, until he let a Helios seduce him into breaking-”

“Kamalani!” Malika’s voice cut across the room sharply and her ex-daughter in law’s mouth snapped closed immediately. The two women shared a knowing stare that Omar couldn’t interpret.

“Well, I’ll be fighting to get custody of him again. He’s going to need his father more than ever after this,” he declared and nearly everyone in the room tried to stifle a laugh.

“Oh honey, we all appreciate you trying to lighten the mood, but now isn’t the time for joking,” Malika chided, tousling his hair like he was still ten years old.

Someone needed to hold down the fort at the Bellamy home, and Wanda and Hunter volunteered. They chased off some reporters, and checked in every hour with the hospital, but were otherwise left alone with their thoughts.

“This is all so crazy,” Wanda said. “Nothing makes sense.”

“I know, who would want to shoot Roman? He’s just a kid.”

Wanda wasn’t entirely sure about how to broach the subject of motive with her husband. She’d been having doubts for weeks now about anything concerning Roman’s recent troubles. Kamalani was as rude to her as the blood related Bellamys, and it was no surprise that Malika had Kamalani around more than her actual son. The two of them were both vipers hiding behind a deception of sincerity. But what were their real motives? Wanda got to be included in simple things like summoning Roman, but was left out of their private tea times, and whispered conversations in the yard.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that the person who killed Abraham shot to kill him, and then shot Roman clear of any major arteries or organs?”

Hunter frowned.

“Maybe they were a lousy shot,” he replied. “It doesn’t matter, I’m just thankful that he’s going to pull through this. He could have just as easily bled out.”

Wanda picked at the corner of one of her nails absently. This needed to be said in the right way.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that your mother was walking in Factory Park so late at night, just in time to find Roman?”

Hunter’s frown grew deeper.

“No, she got a text message from the killer. That’s why Roman went too. She’s lucky to not have been a victim as well.”

“I know, but she...” Wanda paused and changed tactics. “Have you noticed anything strange happening lately? Especially around Roman? I saw him throwing chairs at his bedroom window the other day, trying to break the glass.”

Hunter shrugged.

“He’s a troubled kid,” he replied. “A lot’s changing in his life and he’s acting out.”

Wanda shook her head adamantly.

“No, it’s more than that. Kamalani and your mother talk about him all the time, but stop talking the instant I get close to them. He’s been cooped up in this house for several weeks, and never once left to see Abe who lives basically down the street. You’re telling me that Roman, the boy who runs away from everything, stayed voluntarily in this house when he could be sneaking out to see his boyfriend?”

Hunter’s shoulders stiffened, and Wanda knew she’d pushed a bit too hard, too quickly.

“What are you saying? That Roman should have died because Abraham died? That my nephew is usually out roaming the streets looking to impregnate other teens and him trying to spend a time of crisis with our family for support is suspicious?”

“Yes!” Wanda blurted out, too frustrated to care anymore. “Yes, he should have died! Just like my brother died! Your mother had no time to see and react to the text and still make it to that park in time to save him.” Her hands clenched into fists. “This family is insane, and it would be insane to expect support from them! Your brothers are thrown out of your family now, but they were never really included in the family before! Who lets their son’s ex-wife stay in their house, while shunning their son? Omar’s a bit dull, but he’s way better than Kamalani! And Roman has been a budding sociopath as long as he’s lived with your parents. He has no friends his age, and keeps condoms that he uses with someone in his wallet. For god’s sake, you could tell me that he shot Abraham and I would believe it. I try and I try with that kid, and nothing outside of being with Abe seems to get through to him. No wonder both of his parents abandoned him here!”

Wanda was practically hyperventilating. All of her frustrations, all the little micro aggressions she’d had to endure while living here spilled out of her, and for the first time in months, her chest didn’t feel burdened down by the Bellamy family.

Hunter said nothing, but Wanda could see the anger burning in his eyes. He stood up slowly and headed for the hall.

“It’s been a very stressful night, and tensions are running high,” he stated with the same bitter edge to his voice as his mother. “I think that maybe it would be for the best if you spent the night with Melvin. To clear your head.”

Wanda rested her head against the smooth wall outside of the hospital main entrance. She and Hunter had never really fought before, and she didn’t like feeling out of sync with him. There was so much adding up that she didn’t understand about the Bellamys, and about Arkhelios itself. Maybe a night apart would help give Hunter some perspective on his family. Maybe it would help her decide if she truly wanted to be a part of the Bellamy family at all. She would go spend the night on Melvin’s couch, and they would put their heads together and solve this nightmare once and for all. The constant stream of funerals had to end before the entire population of Arkhelios was buried in the church yard.

Still, she felt bad about what she’d said about Roman, especially since he was still in such bad shape. Could she be wrong about having suspicions about his injuries? Maybe he had just been luckier than Abraham and she was forcing connections to help her cope with how her brother had not been quite so lucky. She decided to pop in to see Roman quickly before she headed to Melvin’s just to ease her guilt. Maybe supporting the Bellamys when their guard was down was the key to winning them over. If they endured this all together, they would have some common ground to work with.

The hospital wasn’t very big, and had a limited amount of rooms for Roman to be in. She found Salem and Omar napping on couches in a waiting area, with several empty styrofoam cups of hospital coffee strewn across a nearby table.

Well if they’re able to sleep, that probably means Roman is doing okay.

She peeked into the first room on the left. Nope. Empty.

She wandered to the next room down the hall. No, no Roman. She was about to continue her search when she heard familiar voices echo down the hall. Malika was crying to the point of actual sobs, which made Wanda extremely uncomfortable. Malika never broke down and showed her feelings, especially if they made her look vulnerable. It felt like an intrusion to hear her in this state, but this brief glimpse into Malika’s actual feelings may be the only chance Wanda ever got to understand her bewildering mother in law. She hid in the room she’d entered behind the door, and strained to hear what was being said just up the hall. Thank god the hospital walls were poorly made and exceptionally thin.

“I...I can’t get the blood out of my coat,” Malika sobbed, and Wanda could hear Kamalani make comforting shushing sounds.

“It’s okay, we did what we had to. Things will be better now. You can buy a new coat.”

What they had to do? That probably just means the CPR.

“And my hands, under my nails...there’s a gaping hole in my grandson’s chest, I saw it! I practically raised him! I kissed him good night every time you gave him to us.” The sobs increased until Wanda could barely understand what she was saying. “And now I’ve watched him slowly start to die! People cut him open right in front of me! His shirt...bleeding...and pieces of bone....”

Malika was barely making sense and Wanda felt shame wash over her, listening to a grandmother grieve this horrible trauma. Maybe Hunter was right, and there wasn’t anything deeper to Roman’s shooting. Malika had been lucky to find Roman when she did. The stars had just aligned correctly to save Roman. He had beat the odds, and Zane simply didn’t. Just random chance.

“Shhh,” Kamalani whispered. It sounded like Malika was calming down. “’Screw your courage to the sticking place’, remember? You know what’s at stake here, and our plan is working. That Helios boy almost came here once already. With Roman immobile, he’ll be drawn here eventually. Arkhelios can be saved. Roman will be saved.”

A chill ran down Wanda’s spine and she pressed harder against the wall instinctively. She definitely didn’t want to be discovered now.

This had been the wrong thing to say, and Malika started sobbing once more.

“His-His eyes though! I saw him look at me when he fell. When he struggled to breathe! I thought when we started this it would be easy, but I can't forget the look on his face. The smell of his blood! I can only pretend that I don't know for so long. How do I tell him when he wakes up? How can I make him understand?”

Kamalani sighed heavily, clearly growing impatient with her ex-mother in law.

“Tell him that you weren’t involved. That you found him after I left. You’re not the one who pulled the trigger after all. He may not even remember seeing you there, or confuse it for when you called Adam." A long pause and more sobbing carried over the air to Wanda. "If it makes you feel less guilty, I can shoot you too. That will throw suspicion off of you.”

Wanda had to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from reacting.

Kamalani shot her own son? Why? And does this mean she killed Abraham too?

“You had one job this entire time,” Kamalani hissed as Malika’s sobs grew louder. “All you had to do was put him on a plane and keep writing checks until some duke or prince caught his interest and you couldn’t even manage that. Now how do you think he'll feel when Abe turns up dead? You could have spared him that pain if you'd only stopped this when I warned you."

Complete silence fell in the hospital. The only sound was the faint hum of the lights, and an occasional beep from down the hall. Wanda looked through the crack of the door hinges, and saw Malika poke her head out of the room they were in, looking for any sign of eavesdroppers. Salem and Omar were still sleeping and the woman at the front desk far down the hall seemed to be busy typing. Wanda held her breath, trying to remain as still as possible. Satisfied that they were alone, Malika ducked back into the room.

“What do you mean?” she hissed, shock replacing her tears. “Killing Abe was never part of the plan. We only need to prevent the child-”

“It’s been too long, that child could be born any day now and survive. Our only chance is to act swiftly, and end the threat immediately. You must realize how close to ruin Arkhelios is. A lot more people will die if Abe doesn’t. You know this, Malika! You were the one who chose this to begin with."

Malika sighed and seemed to be gathering her composure again. The cold mask she presented to the world (and especially to Wanda) was slipping back into place.

"You're right," she admitted. "I don't have the stomach for the act itself, but it's necessary. We've been too subtle, too timid hoping that this will resolve itself. Roman will understand one day, and if he doesn't, then maybe he'll feel pushed to leave Arkhelios on his own."

1. "Stay here tonight." + 31. "Calm down." Chaseprice

Uhhhhhh went a bit overboard with this one...it’s quite long and there’s some big big CWs for sex, alcohol, and mentions of abuse and suicide. Only felt right for the first Chaseprice scene I write to be extremely dark and angsty. Also gotta give credit to @chaseprice as the preeminent scholar in this field for letting me bounce ideas off of her and graciously editing.

“There...now get your hands off me.” Chloe says as she pushes Victoria’s arm away from her. 

“Well that’s a new one,” Victoria scoffs back, catching her breath. “Not in the mood to whine about being held this time?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Chloe says coldly.

Victoria watches her walk over to the mini fridge she keeps under the desk. Chloe reaches inside the freezer compartment and pulls out the bottle of Vodka that permanently occupies it. She unscrews the cap and takes a large swig, furrowing her face as she does so.

“What the fuck is your problem, Price? Do you have any idea how expensive Grey Goose is in this dump? Put that shit back right now.” She scolds. Chloe turns back at her.

“What are you going to do about it.” Chloe says, monotone and disinterested.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You of all people can’t pull this tough guy shit. What do you think I’m going to want to put you in your place and pounce on you or something? That’s not how this works, you’re not worth my energy. You come over, I cum, you cry, you leave. That’s how this works.”

“You think I want you to touch me right now?” Chloe says, raising her eyebrows. 

Clearly Chloe isn’t expecting, or doesn’t care to listen to, an answer, as she takes another large swig of Victoria’s Vodka and sets it down, still uncapped, on her desk. She grabs her tank top that was tossed over a chair and nonchalantly puts it on. Usually during this stage Victoria can’t help herself but to sneak a couple more glances at Chloe’s chest, but it’s becoming clear this isn’t some ploy to keep her turned on.

Chloe is always moody after sex, but not like this. Normally, she just has a breakdown and embarrasses herself with a flood of tears, and the words never cross either of their lips, but it’s understood who and what she’s crying over. Victoria likes it when Chloe is aggressive, a little angry, that’s kind of the whole deal, but this is different. 

“I think you want someone to touch you.” Victoria says with a cruel smirk, having found her angle.

“Who?”

“Wow, you really are a masochist huh?” Victoria smugly looks at Chloe, if Chloe wants to play with fire let her get burned. “ Rachel. Rachel Amber. Your fucking angel dream girl whatever the fuck. You know, the one who left? The one who disappeared without a word?”

“Yeah. I do. You do too though.” Chloe grabs the vodka again and takes another swig.

“You’re going to be so fucking trashed, Price, you already stank of cheap beer when you got here. If you throw up in my dorm I’ll make sure you never step foot on this campus again. But, anyway, what the fuck are you getting at?”

“You wish she was here too. You miss her touching you too.” Chloe says, starting to raise her voice. Several shots worth of vodka seem to be catching up to her now. “Whole fucking school knows you two hooked up. Whole school knows what you are, Vic.”

“You’re such a cunt.” Victoria bites back. She shouldn’t lose her cool though, she can’t give up control like that. “Well if you know that, then I guess you should also know that she fucks better than you do.”

“I know exactly how she fucks. You think I care about your stupid fuckin, fuckin dick measuring contest?” Chloe sloppily screws the cap back on the Vodka and slams it back into the freezer. She starts fumbling with her pockets. “Where’d I put my keys.”

“No,” Victoria says, much more softly than she intended, “go walk home, you’re not driving anywhere like this except headfirst into traffic.” 

“Put some clothes on, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Chloe says, continuing her search.

Victoria hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was still naked. Duly embarrassed, she grabs some shorts and a tank top of her own as nonchalantly as she can so as not to give Chloe any satisfaction. Vic looks over and sees her still searching around the dorm room, illuminated only by the moonlight through her window. 

Victoria doesn’t care about her. She’s just a sex toy, a dirty one at that, but this still doesn’t feel right.

“Knock it off, Price, seriously, go catch a bus with the rest of the drunks.”

“What the fuck do you care?! Stop acting like you give a shit!” Chloe finally snaps.

This is also new. The way Chloe is looking over at her, looking down at her, is different from all the times she’s hate-fucked her. Usually all it takes is some comments about her being poor, being pathetic, being lonely, that get her to hold Victoria down and be rough with her, just as she likes it. But there’s not an ounce of lust in her eyes tonight. Not an ounce of desire, just hate. Can’t be far from breaking her now. 

“I don’t. Go get turned to paste like your dad for all I care.”

That does the trick. Chloe stomps her way over to Victoria’s bed and screams in her face. “Don’t you ever fucking say a word about him!” She grabs Victoria by the chin, with more force than she’s ever touched her before. “Not one fucking word!”

Victoria doesn’t flinch. She barely blinks. She doesn’t know how to react. Chloe lets go of her face and steps away, her own mouth agape in shock.

“I-I…” Chloe starts, but falls to her knees and starts to sob.

“Calm down…” Victoria tries to maintain her detached tone but it’s not working. Chloe has never snapped like this. Never even come close to getting physical (in a way Victoria didn’t explicitly want). But she’s never hit Chloe below the belt the way she did just now either. Victoria obviously wanted a reaction, but she didn’t want this. Or, maybe she did want it, and what does that say about her? After what happened last semester she’d been trying to save that extra level of cruelty only for herself. But Chloe’s always been the exception. And now she’s seeing the result.

“Price, you’ve gotta...come on just…” Victoria stumbles over her words as Chloe continues to sob on the floor, “Chloe. Don’t do this.”

“I’m a fucking monster!” Chloe cries into her hands.

“You’re not, no, you’re not a monster. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a monster.” Victoria’s voice is softening, almost against her will. Used to be Victoria could make girls cry without a second thought. Or if she did feel a pang of guilt, she could always drown those feelings later, but this situation is on the verge of danger.

“I am! Get drunk, come over here and hit you, I’m like him...I’m like him and, him and your dad.” Chloe says wiping her face on her arm.

“No. You’re not my dad, and you’re not your step-dad either. They’re the monsters. Neither of them feel anything when they hurt people.”

“I gotta fuckin...gotta…” Chloe slurs, trailing off at the end as she looks across the room and gets up from the floor. She walks over to Victoria’s closet and grabs her jacket from the handle. She fumbles with the pockets but Victoria can hear the jangling of a keychain inside.

“Chloe, no, don’t do this.” Victoria panics, grabbing Chloe by the arm. “Please. Don’t do this, I don’t want you to go out there and kill yourself.” She says through tears of her own.

“Well why didn’t you say that to fuckin Kate Marsh! She didn’t do, fucking anything to you! I deserve this, she didn’t.” Chloe says, looking away from Victoria.

Victoria’s grip tightens on Chloe’s arm. She’s right. Kate didn’t do anything to her. And she kept pushing that girl, and pushing her and pushing her, and now she’s dead. 

“No. Chloe, neither of you deserve to fucking die and I can’t let another person do this. Please, stay here tonight.”

Chloe finally looks at her. A mix of fear, anger, and self-loathing shine through her watery eyes in the moonlight. Victoria never saw Kate this close, but she wonders how many times she had that same look in her eyes. Chloe looks at the ground again and pulls to move away from Victoria, but Victoria doesn’t let go. Chloe tries taking a step forward, maybe thinking she could drag Victoria with her, but she loses her balance and falls to the floor. Victoria still holds onto her arm and kneels down next to Chloe, once again sobbing into the floor. Victoria lets out a sigh and finally lets herself feel just how much she’s been shaking. She will have to push Chloe out of the door as soon as she wakes up. 

Just because Victoria doesn’t have any love for Chloe doesn’t mean she wants to see her dead. Every other night from here on out she’ll be her own problem, but at least she’s safe. For now. Victoria reaches over and pulls a pillow and quilt off of her couch, properly setting Chloe up for the night. She’ll have to get up to get her a bucket soon, just in case. It’s a while before she lets go of her arm.

The Warriors Smile

Fandom: Pocahontas Characters: Kocoum, Kekata, Nakoma, Pocahontas Relationship: Kocoum AN: So I remember seeing this request for Kocoum, but I cant seem to find the specific request. I remember it being about him not dying and the reader traveling with John and the reader falling in love with Kocoum and respecting his culture, but the details are foggy. Im not sure if this was what you had in mind, but I hope it satisfies you for now and if ive totally miss remembers the request or its not what you were looking for, just let me know 😊

  You didn’t like being on deck when it was such a storm. You were useful as a medic, but your training didn’t extend to battle the harsh sea. But after John had jumped overboard for Thomas, you came to make sure they weren’t injured. John saw your sour face when the men started talk of killing anyone you came across in the new world. After he came down from the crows nest, he tried to cheer you up, not knowing that you only stayed on deck to speak with him. “You look like you were the one who fell overboard.” He leaned against the banister, his face scrunched up in fake concern. “I wish you wouldn’t call them savages.” You mumbled to John, not having enough energy to fight with the rest of the crew. “But they are.” He looked at you perplexed. “Besides, everyone else on this ship calls them sav-“ “You’re not everyone else, John. And they look up to you. You cant have not noticed Thomas following you around like a shadow.” You saw the smirk pull at his lips meaning he knew what you were talking about. 

“He listens to you, too. Hes becoming pretty knowledgeable with medical stuff because he follows you around like a child.” John fires back, and he was right. But only because you warned Thomas that you might not always be around and he needed to know enough in case something happened to you. “Just, just remember. They’re humans too.” You huffed, wanting to move the subject back. “But they’re different.” John kicks off a boot to pour out some water. “They aren’t as different as you think, John. We’re different. Most people on this ship are different. Different eye colour, hair colour, height, weight, built.” You wave to the crew who weren’t paying any head as they secured the deck. “But i bet they have hearts that beat, lungs that breath and blood that runs red.” “Maybe I’ll find you a savage for you to find out.” John smirks at you as he tries to lighten the mood, but the moment he saw you weren’t impressed, he stopped. John could normally read you like a book. You had bother grown up together, and he pulled you along on his adventures many times. He got into fights and you patched him up. You had warned him that you were just a nurse, and one day you might not be able to patch him up. But he dismissed you as a ‘rambling wife’. Not that you were married, or anywhere near a relationship. In truth, you were sure you two would rip each others throats out if left alone too long. But people often assumed there was more than friendship. “I truly hope you are joking, John. No one deserves to die for simply being alive.” You shake your head, disappointed as you stand, rubbing your arms. You turn to disappear back into your quarters, hoping your words might have some weight with the man.

------time skip ---------------

 When John disappeared from the landing party, you found yourself wondering into the surrounding woods. You knew you would be chastised for it later, but you didn’t care. It was so beautiful. you wouldn’t go too far, venturing about 15 minutes away from the others until you found a clearing. The way the sun shone down on the forests was like something out of a fairy-tale. You were so lost in the beauty of it all that you almost didn’t notice the small chirping coming from the ground beside you. Glancing down, you saw a small bird. It had a yellowy orange chest, with a blue back and black markings. Crouching down, you wondered why a bird would be this close to the ground. It seemed dangerous. Unless something was wrong with him? The bird began to jump to you, but you saw its left leg wasn’t taking any pressure and it hobbles a little. “Shhh.” You picked up the small bird with ease and sat down with your legs crossed, your skirt making a small nest for the animal to sit in. “I think you have dislocated your leg, sir.” You mused, gently wrapping the bird in the towel and making sure you could still get to the leg . You grabbed some small bandages you used for fingers and smaller cuts and folded it in half so it was the length of the birds leg. You wrapped the small leg till you felt it had enough padding without hindering the bird too much and then tied it up. “All done. My fee will be in the mail.” You laugh to yourself, even though there was no one around to hear your little joke. You unwrap the bird, which tweets happily. “Lets get you somewhere high.” Getting to your feet, you hold the bird in your hands, leaving the towel and your medical supplies on the floor as you searched the surrounding trees till you found a branch about the hight of you eyes. Taking the bird over, you place it on the tree, but the branch wasn’t thick enough and you didn’t think it was high enough either. “Higher?” You ask, even though the bird has no say as you pick it up again, venturing to another tree which was higher up. The bird didn’t even move from your hand as you reached up to let it go onto the branch. It started tweeted, looking up to a near by tree. You followed its eyes and saw a small bundle of sticks and twigs nestled between two thick branches. The problem was that the nest was about 10 foot off the ground. You groaned, walking up to the tree and looking up at your new destination. There was a branch that you could grab onto, but you didn’t know if you had the upper body strength to pull yourself up and hold yourself with just one free hand. Moving the bird into one hand, you reached up and grabbed the branch. You managed to walk up the tree and pull yourself up till you were eye level with the branch you were holding, but your arm was shaking. You were almost parallel to the branch as you glanced down, seeing you were now a good 5 foot off the ground.  Before you could even reach out and attempt to put the bird up to its nest, your arm spasmed and you lost your grip. You didn’t even have a chance to yell as you fell, preparing yourself to crash on the ground. Until arms caught you. Your eyes had been scrunched shut, expecting pain, so your mind immediately thought John or one of the others had found you. Opening your eyes, you forgot how to breath. The man who had caught you was unbelievably handsome. Strong cheek bones and jaw line with dark brown, intelligent eyes that stared back at your own. You knew your surprise was painted on your face, but his was stoic, like a warrior. He had long hair with shaven sides, like a mohawk, but the hair fell to the left and down to his shoulder, and white feathers adorned the back of his head. The man lowered you to the ground gently. You both watched each others every movement, trying to work out if the other was dangerous or not. Just because you refused to call them savages didn’t mean you trusted them completely. You were on their land, their homes. They were within their rights to chase you off or punish you if they saw fit. The bird chirped in your hands. Apparently, you had tried to protect the bird from the fall rather than try held yourself. Great self-preservation skills. The man took a few steps back from you but before you could ask why, he ran at you. You let out a small yelp, turning away to try protect yourself. But then you heard a grunt. Looking through your hair, you saw he had ran right past you. And up the tree. He was holding himself on the branch, managing to get enough momentum to get past the lower branch and brace himself on it with a straight elbow on one hand. The sheer strength in his arm was shown by the muscles. He reached out to you, eyes darting to the bird. You instantly understood and went to him, placing the bird carefully in his outstretched hand. He rose it to the nest and the bird jumped happily into its home. You smiled widely, happy that the animal could recover from its injury in its home from a little while. Perhaps you could bring it some food later. The man looked back to you, and you caught his eyes. Despite your smile, his face stayed stoic. Taking a step back, you allowed the man space to jump back down, landing elegantly before straightening back up. He towered over you, and you suddenly felt rather intimidated by his presence as your eyes fell to the red markings on his chest. Two clawed paws. Like a bears or wolfs. You opening your mouth, about thank him when you heard voices calling your name. Whipping to look over your shoulder to where the voices came from, you started to panic. If they found this man, he was dead. Looking back to him, you saw his eyes darting to the sound as well, his stance strong. In fact, you could see that he was growing more hostile with every call. “you need to go.” You whispered, drawing his attention back to you. But his eyes showed confused. He couldn’t understand you. You tried make a shooing motion with your hands, but he only grew more perplexed. Eventually, you were drawn to more drastic measures. You placed your hands on his bare chest and pushed him back behind the tree. He stumbled slightly, before his stance became really aggressive. But he was out of sight now. You backed off, pressing your fingers to your lips as you silently begged him to stay hidden. And just in time. “[y/n]!? Where have you been?” Thomas called out to you and you flashed the man a small smile before walking back to your items. “Frolicking through the flowers, are we?” Ben laughed but ti quickly stopped. “Whats that on your hand, lass?” Looking down, you saw some of the red paint from the stranger had rubbed off onto your hand. “Oh, I found an injured bird.” You wiped the evidence on your skirt as you gathered up your things. “We better get you back.” Thomas looked to the sky, the sun lower in the sky. “Okay. I’ll follow.” You nod, throwing your bag over your shoulder. The two men retreated back into the woods, you following behind. But not before you could steal a glance back to the tree, seeing the stranger watching. You smiled at him before turning back. You heard the men grumbling about having to dig for gold. You would certainly make sure Ratcliff had a piece of your mind if he thought for a second you’d be digging. however, the moment you got back, all hell broke loose. Guns were firing, and crys that there was savages. Ducking behind a waggon, you saw them firing at some people in the trees, and they hit one. That might have been the end of it, but then you saw the man from the forest. He scooped up his fallen alley and carried him back into the wood as they all retreated. Stuck in a conflict, you stayed hidden as you thought. You owed him something. Not your life, but he had saved you from a broken hip or a concussion. And you knew they probably wouldn’t be able to treat a gun wound. You thought of the man, suffering in agony before dying with no understanding of what had hit him. So you did the unthinkable. Racing into the woods, you followed them, until they reach a village. You almost collapse when you see the colony of small huts. The crew would slaughter them as sure as day. A deep sickness filed your stomach as you press your hand over your mouth. You took an oath to help people, not hurt them. Holding the strap of your bag, you take a shaking breath. You could very well be walking into certain death, but that man needed your help. Taking a deep breath, you circled the outside of the village until you saw them taking the injured man into a hut. That must be either his home, or a medical place. You would bet the latter. Slipping inside, the group were too preoccupied with the wounded man to notice someone who wasn’t like them had entered. You felt like you had just entered a sleeping lions den. So you cleared your throat. Like lions, they turned and bore weapons at you as if they were fangs. “No, I want to help.” You held your hands up to show you meant no harm, but the men couldn’t understand you. You looked around, trying to figure out a way to show them you wanted to help him. Pulling the bag open, you pulled out the bandage you had. Showing it to them that it wasn’t a weapon, you began to wrap it around your arm. “Help.” You repeated, pointing to the gunshot wound. Their eyes narrowed, but none protest as you moved closer to the injured as you unravel the bandage from your arm. You would need it. You inspected the gunshot wound. There was no way he could survive this without medical help. But you would need the take the bullet out, clean the wound and sew him shut. You didn’t notice the chief looking to the man you had met not an hour ago. There was a silent understanding between them to let you be unless you caused any issues. And the shaman had said he didn’t know how to heal such wounds. “I need to take the bullet out.” You spoke, knowing they couldn’t understand everything you said. You rummaged to the bottom of your bag and found the spare bullets that the men had dropped. Pulling them out, you showed the man you assumed to be the leader one of the bullets between your thumb and pointing finger. You then mimicked how the men held the guns and made a quiet gun shot noise before showing them the bullet flying to his wound. Eyes widened as they realises what you were saying. “We need to take it out.” You pull out your bullet remover. It was a relatively new invention in the medical word, only about 50 years old but it was a key part of your tool kit. But you didn’t know it they would understand that. Your eyes flickered to the head healer, who looked to chief. A breeze came through the tent, making you shudder while the small group closed their eyes for a brief moment. When the chief opened his eyes, he nodded to the head healer who looked back to you. “Save him.” He told you, making your eyes widen at his English. But you nodded, and got to work. They let you work without question but with watchful eyes. You warned it would hurt, and apologised. But the man gritted his teeth and managed to stay still. Bullets were kind of a speciality of yours. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but it was a fact. the bullet was out with 5 minutes. But that didn’t mean it was over just yet. You sewed up the wound, trying to make it as neat as you could. “You’re doing really well. Im nearly done, I promise.” You glance to the injured man, and you could see the relief in his eyes. “Why did you come?” Their leader asked you. “To help. Im a medic. I took a vow to heal people where I could.” You answer truthfully as you wipe away the blood from around the wound and placing a gauge over it. “Your people caused this.” The chiefs words made you flinch. “My people are ignorant and arrogant. I am not like them. I don’t want a war or anyone to get hurt.” You shook your head, feeling the guilt in your stomach. “Why?” he knelt next to you, his eyes watching your face closely. “All blood is red. Its my job to heal that.” You look at him, hoping he might understand your reasoning more than you did. “We cannot let you leave.” The chief stated as he stood, but you had prepared for this. “if you don’t, they will come to find me.” You answer, looking up at him. “Then how do we know we can trust you?” he asked, his chin rising as he spoke to look down at you. “You cant.” You answered honestly, your eyes dropping. “But I can trade you supplies. Like these. To help if you do get into fights. I don’t have much, but it will help you.” The chief regarded you for a moment, his mind thinking over your deal. “Are they dangerous?” The leader asked you as you focused than you needed to on tying the bandage. Pressing your lips together in a straight line, you nodded once. “Leave by night fall. Do not return.” He spoke with authority and you nodded, thankful he was allowing your freedom. “Thank you.” You bowed your head to him out of respect as you packed your things. “We will fight this enemy, but we cannot do it alone. Kocoum-“ the chief was answered as the stranger from earlier stood and followed him. “Send messengers to every village in our nation. We will call on our brothers to help us fight.” He walked out the door, the stranger from earlier at his side as he addressed his people. “These white men are dangerous. No one is to go near them.” You sat back on your heels, unsure what to think. Had you condemned your friends? But these people had a right to know, to protect themselves, didn’t they? You were conflicted, torn between the right thing to do. The lead healer hummed a little, regarding you. You held out a spare gauge and bandage to him, which he took along with a bottle of anti-septic. “Its incredible, how calm he was.” You look at the man, who lay with his eyes closed as if in a trance. “I will speak on your healing once it is done.” He muses, but his eyes danced with some amusement as you smiled at him. He pushed a bowl of water to you so you could wash the blood off your hands. Just as you were drying your hands, the stranger from earlier stepped back in. Kocoum. “I hope to meet you again, child. But not in such circumstances.” The healer smiled, nodding to you before he continued his chant from earlier, signalling it was your time to leave. Kocoum snuck you out the back, and guided you through the forest in silence. You followed without question, occasionally falling behind a little but always catching up until you saw the wooden logs being hauled up to build a fortress. Placing a hand on Kocoums arm, you stopped him. “You shouldn’t go any further.” You told him, your eyes screaming apologies to him as you stepped in front. “But im glad we met again, even if the circumstances were awful.” Kocoum nodded, and you were sure if he was agreeing with you or simply acknowledging your words. “Goodbye.” You step away from him, and he gives you a small bow, before he moves behind a tree, hiding. When you emerge, it feels like the entire crew fauns over you, worried. But Ratcliffe suddenly appears, parting the crew like a sea as he regards you. “Where did you run off to?” he asks, his voice not showing any concern for your wellbeing but probably for your lack of labour. “The guns and fighting scared me. I ran to the woods for cover and got lost.” You lied. “And did you… find anything?” Ratcliffe prys, leaning down as if to intimidate you but you stood your ground. “No.” You shook your head, not breaking under his pressure. he huffed, demanding everyone gets back to word before retreating to his quarters. As the crew disperses, you steal a glance to the woods, unable to see Kocoum anymore.

  -------------time skip ------------

You told yourself that you were just going to feed the bird. That’s the only reason you were going back to that clearing. But you weren’t. That man had plagued your sleep, and you wanted to see him again. walking through the forest, you wondered if you were lost, until the clearing came into view. Digging into your bag, you grabbed the paper bag of bread pieces and seeds you had managed to get your hands on. Walking up to the tree, the bird appeared on the lower branch that you could reach, apparently recognising you and tweeting happily. You took a palm full of the food and held it up to the creature, who happily jumped onto your wrist to peck at the food. “Thank you.” A voice spoke from behind you, making you jump. But when you saw it was Kocoum, you relaxed. You had never heard him speak before. “How is he doing?” You ask, going back to your task of feeding the bird. You could just leave the seeds on the branch, but you wanted to be doing something. “He grows stronger every day.” Kocoum informs you. “That’s good. I cant imagine the fear he must have felt.” You muse, as the bird jumps onto your fingers, hopping across your hand to stand on your palm to peak at the food. You were grateful because you could lower your arms, which were hurting a little. “Why did you follow?” Kocoum suddenly asked as you turned and sat at the bottom of the tree. In truth, you knew it was risky. Any instinct you had told you to run away, but you were so interested by him that all you really wanted to do was talk. “I already told you. I don’t like seeing others suffer.” You move the seeds into one hand, freeing your right hand. With the back of your pointing finger, you stroke the birds head, smiling. “Plus, I own you for saving me from a nasty fall.” He didn’t laugh with you, but you didn’t mind. You were a stranger to him, an enemy even. Kocoum stayed standing, but backed away so he wasn’t looming over you. It suddenly dawned on you that you knew his name, yet he didn’t know your own. “Im [y/n].” you suddenly say, wanting to right that wrong. “Kocoum.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “I know.” You smile, amused by the birds trust in you as you petted it. Looking up, you saw Kocoum was confused and, perhaps, suspicious. “I heard the others call you by that name.” Your explanation seemed to ease his suspicions, but not completely erase them. He sat with you for an hour or so, and you told him about your home. You didn’t want to ask about his own in case he thought you were going to relay information. When you noticed that your absents would soon be reported, you stood. Placing the bird back in the tree, you told Kocoum goodbye, but he followed you. At first, it made you a little uneasy, until you reached the edge of the forest and it dawned on you that he was making sure you got back safely. Before you could turn and thank him, he was gone. For the next few days, you found yourself running off to the clearing, and most times he was there. There was the occasion that he wasn’t, but he seemed to like your little meeting. You were both suspicious of each other, but it seemed to ease out as you both spoke. Well, you spoke and he listened. He would ask questions, and seemed interested in you, but didn’t seem like much of a talking. You joked about it, saying that it was fine because you could talk the ear off anyone, so you could easily make up for it. And, at the, he smiled. You nearly fainted. In the setting sun, in this beautiful clearing with this handsome man, he smiled at you. Your legs were jelly as you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. “Your voice like bird song.” Kocoum’s words would be the death of you, you were sure of it. Now a blushing mess, stumbling over your words, you knew it was time to head home. He accompanied you as always, and yet he stayed a little close than normal. Just before you reached the outskirts, he grabbed your hand. “Stay safe.” He whispered, and you could see the corner in his eyes. “You too.” You returned the concern before the two of you parted.

-------time skip ----------

Whatever was going on with John, you were worried. Pacing by your tent, you wondered where he had ran off to at such an hour. He should know better than to do this. You didn’t want to confide in anyone in case they told Ratcliffs and he got angry. In fact, you hadn’t seen Thomas around either recently. Stopping, you glance around. Something felt off. Suddenly, the calmness of the night was broken by screams. Grabbing your medical bag, you followed the others. Thomas came running, crying out for help, that John had been attacked and taken. You rushed to calm him but the others got there first, demanding to know what happened. “I kill one of them.” Thomas whispered, swaying back and forth before dropping his gun. “You- you did what?!” You nearly shriek, but managed to keep it down as the men gathered weapons. “I shot one. They took John because I killed one of their own.” He scrunched his eyes up, but when he opened them again, you were gone. Running into the forest, you felt yourself trembling as you raced to the tribe, treason be damned. Maybe you could help, or exchange something for John. You didn’t know. “[y/n]!” A voice called out, making you nearly fall over as you stopped, heart beating so loud as you saw a woman running through the forest to you. She stopped when she saw you had noticed her. “Kekata told me to find you. He said… you could help Kocoum.” She seemed unsure as she spoke, her eyes darting around. “He- He was the one shot?” You whisper in disbelief. And she nods. You followed her as she raced back to the hut where you had went to heal the first man. Sneaking around the outside of the village, you both managed to slip inside without notice. Kekata sat by Kocoum side, who was still. You were praying he was asleep. Passing Nakoma, you raced to his side. “It isn’t as the first one was.” Kekata spoke to you quickly, and you could hear the worry in his voice. “No, its in a more dangerous area.” You nodded, confirming his worries. A hand was placed on your shoulder, making you turn to Kekata. “I wanted to give Kocoum a fighting chance. But I do not expect a miracle from you.” his words sunk in as he stood, preparing to leave. You didn’t know what was going on. What was going to happen. “I do not trust the white men. But I trust you. you might save one life, but I suspect blood will still fall at sunrise. Stay here. This is my safe haven for you, for what you have done for us. A debt repaid. Do not come out of this hut. Do you understand me?” Kekata spoke with such urgency and hints of aggression that all you could do was nod. “If he wakes, sound the horn.” Kekata draws your attention away from Kocoum to look the elder. He was standing at the entrance, gesturing to the corner. You didn’t follow his direction, instead noticing Nakoma, who seemed confused and almost fearful that Kekata was leaving you alone with an injured Kocoum. “But I do not know if it will stop the war.” War. The word hit you like a bolt of lightning as the realising dawned on you. You knew what would happen now, but you couldn’t think about it. You just had to focus on saving Kocoum as the two left the hut with no further words. Putting on your calm façade, you told yourself it was just another patient. Your hands shook a little more than normal, and you paused before you went near the wound. But once you got to work, you were immersed. All the items you had given them were laid out to your side, along with your own and 2 bowls of water. Time seemed to drag, and you felt sick, but you pushed through. You heard things happening outside the hut, the warriors marching to battle, but blocked it out until there was silence. Working by candle light, you blinked away an odd tear and focused. Maybe, if Kocoum did wake, you could spare John too. Then its not a life for a life. Shaking away the grim thoughts, you worked through till you heard the morning chirping of birds. It was still mostly dark out. Once you were finished, you sat back. The cloth you had been using to clean the wound was bloody, and you didn’t want to use it any more. Ripping a piece of your shirt, you knew it was freshly cleaned this evening. The first bowl of water was more blood than water now, so you moved on to the fresh bowl and used the rag to carry water and run it over the wound to clean it. You went to the water and wet another tore bit of your shirt before coming up and sitting beside his head to clean his brow. Your eyes darted to the paint on his chest, but you didn’t dare touch it. It wasn’t your place to remove that sort of thing. You didn’t speak, not needing to offer any comforting words to anyone, but the silence was near unbearable as you waited for something to happen. For war to break out? For Kocoum to wake? You really couldn’t put your finger on it. After what felt like a millennium, you noticed his eyes were moving behind his eyelids. You held your breath, your lips pressed together in a harsh line as you tried to keep yourself calm. However, the moment his eyes fluttered open, you broke. Tears of relief streamed down your cheeks as you pressed a hand over your mouth to hid your sobbing. The fear which had had your body in a tight grasp eased the moment he woke, and you had done so well keeping yourself calm while you had been alone that you were overwhelmed. His eyes found you, and he began to sit up, despite the pain he must be feeling. Leaning on his left elbow and forearm, he pushed himself up into a sitting position before you could even talk. “Don’t sit up, it will be painf-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence as a large hand slipped behind your neck and he drew you to his lips. The moment his warm lips met your own, you were a goner. The nurse had left you, replaced with the girl who was screaming with excitement as he kissed you. The kiss was intense, but controlled and carful, just like Kocoum. He controlled every aspect and, if you had been standing, your knees would have been weak. It was so perfect, like a dream which you wished to never wake from. Some part of you was convinced you had falling asleep by his side and you were dreaming all this. You reached up to his face, your fingers gently grazing across his cheek before mirroring his own hold on you by slipping your hand around the back of his head to just above the base of his neck. with your other hand, you gently wrap your hand around his wrist, your thumb pressing against the veins, feeling the pulse beneath the skin. A small shiver ran through your body as you moved closer, running your hand along his arm and to his chest. Pressing an open palm above his heart, you could feel the steady beat. Pulling back, you felt the air flood into your lungs and the tent suddenly seemed to much bigger and brighter. You couldn’t help the red in your cheeks, or the smile on your lips as you look at the man who had stolen your heart from the very moment he had caught you. Much to your surprise, you saw a smile tug at his lips, his eyes dancing with a joy you had never seen before. No one had ever looked at you like that. He looked so happy, so full of life. Suddenly, what was happened beyond the tent hit you like a wave as you jolted back. “We have to tell them you’re alive.” You suddenly say, and you see the happiness be replaced with concern and confusion. “They think you’re dead. They are going to kill John in revenge but Ratcliffes marching to war with them.” You began to panic again as you turn to where Kekata had pointed before he left. In the corner was a horn. Moving from his side, you grabbed the horn. Turning back to Kocoum, you knew you couldn’t ask him. He was already moving way too much and you were terrified his stitches wouldn’t hold. Getting to your feet, you went to the mouth of the hut and looked up at the blue sky, praying it wouldn’t see red today. Taking a deep breath, you raised the horn to your mouth and blew. The sound was deafening but you pushed through for a solid 10 seconds before lowering it. You didn’t know what it would do, or who could hear it. Perhaps you were too late. Some leaf’s rustled as a wind ran through them in your direction, but what you felt was not the wind you knew. It was a small gust, and it seemed to run up your body, winding around your legs and waist before passing your head and fleeing, taking leaf’s with it. You stared in the direction it had went, and something told you that there was still a chance. You jumped when you felt a hand on your lower back, turning to see Kocoum standing behind you. “We need to go to them. They will need proof.” As he spoke, you knew he was right. “But, you are still healing.” You press a hand to his chest, desperate to keep the heart beating within it. “I will have time to heal when this is done.” Kocoum spoke with conviction, but you pressed firmly on his chest. “No, you could undo your stitches.” You shook your head, until a small figure appeared from beside the hut. Your eyes darted to her, nearly jumping at her sudden appearance before you recognised her as the girl from the night before, Nakoma. She looked at Kocoum as if he were a ghost, a hand pressed over her mouth before she stepped forward. “I’ll go. I’ll tell them you are alive.” She nods firmly, before turning on her heel and running off towards wherever the battle was going to happen. Hopefully, the horn was enough to cause a moment of doubt, and Nakoma would be the voice of reason. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late. You pushed your worries to the back of your mind and turned to Kocoum. “You need to rest. Please.” You take his hands in your own and guide him back into the hut and towards the mat. Despite his protests, you helped him lie back down as you chested the stitches and saw they were fine. Although, even if everything did turn out okay, you were sure you would have a battle trying to keep him still to heal. There was not much else to do, but wait.

Within an hour, Nakoma ran back. By the look on her face, it wasn’t good news. You held your breath, waiting for her verdict. Thankfully, the sound of the horn had reached Pocahontas in the forest as she ran to save John. Apparently, this was the one John had been sneaking off to see. She had manged to stop everything, even speaking sense to her father before Nakoma had appeared, telling everyone that Kocoum was alive. But then she grabbed your wrist. “Your leader, a shot hit John. Hes bleeding.” As she spoke, you felt sick to your stomach. Another bullet. Grabbing your bag, you stuffed your medical supplies in. “I’ll go. Will you stay and make sure he doesn’t move? His stitches are fresh and it could do damage.” You didn’t wait for her to respond before taking off in the direction she had came. Something guided you through the woods, until you appeared at the bottom of a hill. You saw your crew on the other side at the bottom of a sheer drop, and Kocoums tribe were on the hill. There was relief on everyone’s face from your crew at your appearance. But you were worried. You had patched John up a fair few times. Your worries were that this time, you couldn’t. Climbing the hill, the tribe parted for you as you came to John. “Another bullet, eh?” you dropped to your knees beside him. he was lying with his head on Pocahontas lap as she soothed him. “Yep, I’ve heard you’re pretty familiar with them.” He tried to laugh, but winces, holding his side where the blood was. When you saw the position of the hole in his shirt, your heart sank. Pulling away the material, your greatest fears were confirmed. “John, the entrance wound is right on top of the scar from before.” Your voice shook and, for the first time since you arrived, you felt useless. “What does that mean?” Pocahontas asked, unsure why that was an issue. “It means I cant help him here. He needs to go back to England and get it surgically removed by a doctor. I don’t have the tools or the ingredients to do it here and I’m totally useless-“ Tears welled in your eyes as you were overcame with emotions. But John interrupted you. “Hey, hey, hey. From what I heard, you’ve been very useful. Theres only so many times a sailor can patch up his ship before he has to put it to specialists, eh? And this ships taken a few waves or two over the years.” He chuckles, wincing yet again. But he soothed you immensely. “I’ll get your bandaged up, give you some stuff for the pain. Im sure Thomas will be by your side the entire way home.” You smile, reassuring both him and yourself.

-----------time skip --------------

You stood by the sea, waiting as John asked. He said she would come say goodbye, and Kocoum had agreed the same. “So, let me get this straight.” You sat, crossed legged by Johns side. “Me and you, two people who get mistaken as a couple all the time, each started a relationship with two members of a tribe who were due to be wed?” “Yeah, funny how things work out, eh.” John smirked. “Look.” Thomas, who had been standing on watch, pointed to the mist that lay thick on the forest floor this morning. You couldn’t see anything at first, until there was the silhouette of not just Pocahontas and Kocoum (you were partly annoyed that he was walking so soon), but also of at least 8 others. The crew held their breath, clutching their guns, until it was revealed the others were carrying baskets of food for the journey home. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. As Pocahontas came to John, you stood. But Thomas met her, taking off his hat out of respect. “Going back is his only chance. He’ll die if he stays here.” Thomas spoke with her, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. You watched the two with such amazement and respect. Powhatan and Nakoma approached. Powhatan pulled off his shawl and lay it over John. “You are always welcome here. Both of you.” He looked to you as well, making you smile with gratefulness before turning to speak only to John. “Thank you, my brother.” He smiled down at John before retreating. John said farewell to the animals, he then turn to Pocahontas. He cupped her cheek in an intimate way. He asked her to come, and she refused because she was needed by her village. But when he offered to stay, she said he needed to go. Their love would be broken by distance, and as she leaned in and kissed him, you took your leave to go see Kocoum. “Stay.” He took your hands in his own, holding them tightly against his chest as if he never wanted to let them go. You couldn’t help but smile, but you faltered in answering. Was it selfish to stay? John was leaving Pocahontas, with an open invitation back. What if something happened on the way home and they needed a medic? Were you abandoning your promise by staying here? But you were staying as a healer as well, so did that balance everything? Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a hand clapping your back. “Sorry to interrupt.” John called over to you. the smirk on his face was not one you trusted. “You know, [y/n], I think that we need a new nurse. One whos not going to run off and heal the enemy. Not that you’re the enemy now.” He quickly added to Kocoum. “No, I think that you should be somewhere that’s peaceful, somewhere that you cant run into trouble. Like, oh say I don’t know, here? Just something to think about.” If he hadn’t been shot, you might have kicked him. Had everyone been eavesdropping this whole time? Looking back to Kocoum, you couldn’t help but beam at him. “I think that means I can stay.” You nod, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement. Kocoum smiled, and you heard him let out a breath that he had been holding. Something small flutters to your side, and you turn your head to see an old friend. The bird, with the blue back, was hovering beside you, chipping before flying into the sky. Something told you that you would see the little guy again. You raced to say goodbye to the crew, and Thomas promised you that he would take care of John no matter what. You told him that you believed in him. John didn’t like long goodbyes, so gave you a handshake along with a smile. “I’ll see you soon, anyway.” You smile. “oh, I’ll be back as soon as I can stand.” He joked. “You know, I would roll my eyes, but Kocoum only got stiches a day ago, and he came to stay goodbye, so I have no doubt that you men are stupid enough to do that.” You returned, swatting his arm. But soon, it was time to part. The sadness you felt from seeing the ship sail into the distance was no unfelt, but as you felt the warmth of Kocoums body beside you, you couldn’t help but be excited for this next chapter of your life. You were welcomed in the village both as a healer and Kocoum’s wife, and quickly became known as the only one who could make the warrior smile.

Hello! I don't really see anywhere if requests are open, so sorry if Im bothering you ;; But can we get some hc about Gouhin with red panda reader? Its just so cute idea, red pandas are sooo much smaller than Giant pandas, both eat bamboo, and have you seen how red pandas sleep on trees? Im not saying that gouhins arms are the size of branches, but they are. Have a great day!

A/N: It’s no bother at all and thanks so much for requesting. My requests are open and I usually put them in my bio or in my fics just to get the message across twice.

I love red pandas since they’re so adorable!!! Gouhin is honestly such a mood, no lie. I hope you have a great day as well...

Feedback is appreciated and requests are open! Gif isn’t mine!

• Your first encounter with Gouhin happened at the Black Market, a place designed specifically for carnivores and their temptations...

• But you had no business there being a red panda and all, meat isn’t really your ideal food.

• You were there under cover, you didn’t work for anyone but the idea of the Black Market’s purpose always intrigued you... but maybe this time you bitten off more than you could chew.

• You were cornered by a snow leopard whose been following your every move and was growing suspicious of why a herbivore would even think twice of stepping foot in this place.

• You were ready to try your best to fight him off but a large bear like figure caught your eye lingering in the shadows.

• Unbeknownst to the carnivore the figure poked them with the sharp end of a bamboo stick which prompted them to turned around only to be struck right in the face by the figures forceful punch.

• The leopard stumbled back with dizziness giving you the perfect chance to bite down hard on his tail causing him to shreek in pain and run towards the figure only be thrown down hard on the ground before fleeing away in defeat.

• You dust yourself off and see a set of eyes staring back at you to which you assume was a look of worry but soon turned it’s back on you ready to walk out.

• “Wait!” You call out and they stop. “Come into the light...”

• The figure takes a deep sigh but does what you say coming into contact and finally revealing that this vigilante was in fact a male Panda.

• “Follow me,” he takes after a serious tone. “If you still want to live.”

• You do just that and that’s how the two of you have been going on forever since that day.

• Since you were a psychologist Gouhin decided to keep you around as his assistant, his job became yours and together you tried to save as many struggling carnivores as you possibly could.

• But what came with the domestic side of Gouhin? After all it wasn’t long before you developed feelings for him and vice versa...

• Sometimes after long days of research you’d make jasmine tea with a shot of bamboo which was always his favorite.

• Being pandas and all bamboo was something you’d both enjoyed as a snack. Gouhin always breaking a piece in half for you to share since he knew you weren’t capable of eating an entire stock with those tiny teeth of yours.

• Height difference like its so obvious at this point, him being a giant panda and all.

• Sometimes your small stature would get in the way of basic everyday activities.

• One time while you were trying to reach something from the top shelf and couldn’t, Gouhin picked you up by the hips which made you let out a small squeak in surprise but you shook it off and got what you were looking for.

• He wouldn’t say it to your face but it was the cutest shit he’s ever heard.

• Another incident happened to be when you slept in the same bed together for the first time.

• You dozed off first and hung onto his bicep for comfort, they reminded you of how safe sleeping ontop of trees from your childhood had made you feel.

• At first he was skeptical on why you were so affectionate but after a couple more times he gave in and learned to accept it. He’s been touch starved for soo long and didn’t really know how to handle the situation but he’s willing to put his guard down just for you.

• Most nights he’ll tuck you in before joining you in bed and plants a kiss to your nose which always made you smile.

• But if he’s the first one to sleep which is relatively rare you’ll cover him in blankets, snuggle in close, and try your best to squeeze your way into his arms to which he never turns you down on.

• Morning routines like making breakfast for the other, workouts/yoga, and lots and lots of research.

• One morning he even taught you how to defend yourself in case there be a time he wouldn’t be able to save you.

• He’d be smart enough to not start you off with a heavy gun so a small set of blades like daggers and darts did the trick.

• Soon enough you were ready to kick ass and take care of aggressive animals from off the streets as a team.

• Just goes to show that the same one who saved you, trained you, cared for you, and most importantly loved you would do anything to keep you safe.

• Overall loving Gouhin was a gamble since you never knew what was to come next but it was a gamble you were proud to call love.

———

Tag list - (just ask to be added)

@starr60

This was really fun to write! Hope y’all enjoyed it!

Hello! I don’t know how requested the dangerous women but that was so good. Can I request Spencer x Max and the ex boyfriend with the song friends by Chase Atlantic?

Hi! I’m going to apologise in advance because I’m sure this is not what you were after but I got an idea in my head and ran with it, I’m sorry if it’s not what you were after 🙊 CW: vague hints at domestic abuse (Max’s ex) and aggressive behaviour. Italics are flashbacks.

Send me a song lyric and a CM pairing and I’ll write you a blurb

Girl, tell me what you're doing on the other side

And so, just tell me what you're doing with that other guy

'Cause I ain't got patience

To slow down the bass

All your girlfriends are wasted

They need it, they chase

He watched from afar across the park. He watched her sitting on the bench with the tall slim man with too long hair.

He watched as she laughed at his jokes, touched his arm as she smiled at him.

His rage bubbled inside of him. What did that man have that he didn’t?

Was she so desperate for attention she would take it from anyone? And if that was the case, why had she snubbed him?

Why had she ended things with him?

He would get her back

Face it

You want it, you crave it

Believe when I say that you'll know once you taste it

It was good until it wasn’t. He treated Max like a princess until he didn’t.

One wrong move, wrong word spoken and he turned.

Living in fear had become her norm.

Fear of what mood he might be in from one day to the next.

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

Girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

He’d been drinking again, her friends were encouraging it. They didn’t know what he was like when he drank.

They only saw the charming side of him, they had no idea what she was in for when she got home.

She tried to smile through it, making comments that maybe they should stop drinking.

He’d blame her for ruining his night.

And the cycle would start again.

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

He watched them sip coffee, watched his hand slide across the table and his fingers entwine with Max’s.

He watched Max smile and blush a little. They made eyes at each other across the table. It made him sick.

He followed them as they walked down the street hand in hand. They talked about literature and art.

Later he watched her leave his apartment mind running wild over what had gone on inside.

Just give me some time and space to realize

That you, were busy lying, sleeping 'round with other guys

How long had this really been going on? Before Max had left him she’d been distant. He was sure she’d been seeing someone behind his back.

Was it this guy? And if it was, he was going to kill him.

What the hell were we?

Tell me we weren't just friends

This doesn't make much sense no

But I'm not hurt, I'm tense

'Cause I'll be fine without you, babe

“I can’t keep on like this!” Max was crying as she yelled. “Things have to change.”

“I promise.” He cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “I promise things will be different.”

“They need to be.” She sniffed. “Because I can’t live like this much longer.”

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

Girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

He followed them to the bar and watched them across the room as they got closer and closer together in the booth.

Max’s friends pawed over her new beau, smiling and laughing at the dumbs things he must be saying.

It infuriated him. It wasn’t so long ago they were pawing over him that way. How fickle. Almost as fickle as Max, he thought.

He downed a shot of whiskey, not his first and certainly not his last.

Max would not be going home with that pipe cleaner with eyes tonight. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

Girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Are you ready to go?” Spencer asked her softly as she stifled a yawn.

“I think so.” Max laughed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you all.” Spencer addressed her friends as they both stood from the table.

He and Max said their goodbyes and Spencer placed his hand on her lower back as they made their way to the door.

“Your friends are great.” He told her, slipping his hand in hers as they stepped outside.

“They loved you.” She beamed at him.

“I’m glad.” He pulled her close by the hand and kissed her. “Will you come home with me?”

“Where else would I go?” She squeezed his hand.

They started to walk hand in hand but they didn’t get far before a figure stumbled out in front of them.

“Get off her!” The man slurred, reaching to shove Spencer but Spencer side stepped out of his way.

“Whoa buddy, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” Spencer laughed nervously.

“Mike?” Max spat, shuffling closer to Spencer.

“Mike?” Spencer questioned. “Your ex?”

“Not her ex pal.” Mike growled. “But you’re about to be. Not beat it.” He got up in Spencer’s face. He reeked of booze.

“Mike leave him alone.” Max was squeezing Spencer’s hand hard. Spencer sensed her fear.

Spencer straightened himself and squared his shoulders.

“You need to leave.” He told him calmly.

Mike laughed, a menacing laugh that rang out through the street.

This time when he shoved Spencer it landed.

Spencer stumbled a little but quickly corrected himself.

He tugged his hand free of Max’s and in one swift move he managed to grab Mike by the wrists, spun him around and pin his front to the wall. He pulled a pair of cuffs from his pocket glad he hadn’t changed since work and slapped them over the guys wrists.

“You just assaulted a federal agent.” He growled in Mike’s ear. “Max, call the cops.”

He fished his cell out of his pocket, his other hand clamped on Mike’s shoulder.

Max took the phone, her hand shaking.

“Call the cops and then call Emily.”

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

Wish she'd let me stay, I'm ready now

“What a night.” Max chewed her lip, her hands still shaking as she sat on Spencer’s couch a few hours later.

Spencer sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“He made a big mistake tonight. You’ll never have to worry about him again, my love.” He kissed the side of her head.

“Spence,” she sniffed back tears, looking at him through watery eyes.

“Yes Max?”

She kissed him softly before whispering,

“My friends aren’t the only ones who love you.”

Top/Bottom Relationship [Part 1] ||Nakamoto Yuta ||

[ Part 1 ] >> [ Part 2 ] >> [ Part 3 ]

Genre: sum smut & biG angst energy

Pairing: Fuckboy! nakamoto yuta x CEO! female reader (feat. Johnny)

Warnings:  mentions of substance abuse, casual sex, degradation, s/d elements, friends with benefits, if you don’t already know and believe that Nakamoto Yuta is TOP energy... Leave my page this insTAnt. 

>>>Inspired by the legendary top! yuta himself and his famous retaliation quote from NCT LIFE in OSAKA.

(A/n): also I did not expect it to be this looong...so enjoy. Promise you there will be more SMUT in Part 2;)

“Fuck!” Yuta enters you and right away your body arches to adjust to his length. Yuta takes your earlobe between his teeth and swipes his wet tongue over the skin of it. 

From the last hour you’ve been edged and denied of a climax over and over again that at penetration you were already tearing up. “Yuta!-wait! Oh my go-”

He thrusts into you with a vice and from the look in his eyes you could tell that he was enjoying how he was messing you up. Your hair was matted into your skin from the sweat, your eyes brimming with tears and your mouth drooling from deep throating his length. 

“Stop whining. You were the one begging for it.” His stupid smirk spreads across his face and you can’t even muster thoughts because your climax began rippling through the pit of your core. "Look at my personal little whore... already cumming from me being inside her."

This was Nakamoto Yuta.

The infamous,yet extremely delicious fuck boy from your company. 

When this type of relationship started out, the first few times was from the desire of your body. But slowly you knew that this was a one way route. 

You were catching feelings. 

*****************************

“Ms.(y/n), Mr. Nakomoto would like to discuss a few issues regarding the project you assigned to his team.” Behind your secretary you see a familiar Japanese man standing behind her. Wearing an expressionless face. 

As soon as your secretary leaves to give the two of you privacy, you professionally ask for the matter at hand. Yuta takes a seat and places down his tablet on the coffee table. 

“Hello, Miss (y/n).” Like a predator he eyes you up and down. 

Despite you being the CEO of your company and an independent woman with no need to have a man support her... Yuta had this unfailing talent of making you feel small and worthless in his presence. Granted, you loved that about him.

“What-what’s the issue, Mr. Nakamoto?” You both agreed that at work things should be professional. (emphasis on should) 

“I’m frustrated, Miss (y/n).” He leans back biting his lip before darting his eyes towards your pencil skirt. 

“About?” 

“Us.”

Your eyes widen. “Us? What about us?” 

You thought that maybe this was going to be his confession to you. That you wont have to wake up to an empty, cold bed every Saturday morning. That this friends with benefits relationship wasn’t working out for him just as much as it was becoming a problem for you.

He puts his head down before meeting your eyes. Lust filled in his dark pupils. In this case, your heart drops. 

You know what he wants. 

“How far you were taking it today by teasing me in the manager meeting.” His tongue flicks over his lips. “Bending over in front of me like that, like I wasn’t going to see that skirt hugging your ass so tight.” 

You choke down the disappointment and use his horniness as an outlet  for your frustrations with him.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

He unbuttons his shirt with one hand while the other reaches for his belt. “I’m not gonna do jack shit. Lock the door, slut.”

You wanted to throw your notepad in his face and tell him to stop playing these games. But you lock the door like the good girl he wanted you to be for him. 

Since this was a top/bottom relationship. 

*******************************

After the dinner with the company you were absolutely exhausted. At your apartment, your shoes are sprawled by the door and you find the nearest comfy spot. Which in your case was the plush love seat in your spacious living room. 

“Ah this feel amazing...” You sigh to yourself before taking off your blazer. You haven’t had much time to yourself since the upcoming project was hurdling to an end and all of the last minute preparations always took the most of your energy out of you. 

To think about it, you haven’t even seen Yuta in the past two days. your mind suddenly started wandering to what he could possibly be doing on a Friday night since he was usually here undressing or starting round two with you. 

Just as he crosses your mind you receive a text. 

Nakamoto Yuta : You home? (11:31pm)

You think about his face. The way his smile curved and exposed his beautiful teeth. For a moment, you smile and stare at the text. Hoping that he’d want to just come over for a movie or for drinks. 

But it’s thot hours. 12 am. 

Yuta is horny and you didn’t want him to find a reason to leave you. Even if it just meant that his body was yours just for a few hours. 

So you do what you know best. 

Reply: Yeah, Door’s unlocked ;) (read 11:33pm)

You hated falling into this viscous cycle. 

Nakamoto Yuta: Good girl. (11:34pm) 

**********************

When you hear the door open, you’ve freshened up. Making sure your body was clean and scented since you prided yourself in being absolutely perfect for him. 

Your night started as soon as you heard him lock the door.

You got dressed in your usual lingerie. All black. Just like he likes it. 

All the lights leading to your bedroom are dim to set the mood. A shadow enters the room and behold the man of the hour. 

Nakamoto Yuta.

He grins at you and scans your outfit. Ears turning a little pink from his reaction to what was in front of him. However, when he pulls you in for a kiss you could smell the reminisce of alcohol tainting his breath. Now that you were close enough to see through the kiss you could see that he was red. 

You break away from him and taste soju. “You’re drunk.” 

This wasn’t the first time. 

He stumbles a little before leaning against you. “I’m not.” 

You look him in the eyes and immediately you know how much he’s drank. 

He looks more gentle. Less aggressive. 

“Come on.” You let him hang over you as you guide him to the bed. 

All thoughts of sexually pleasing him leave your brain as you go to get water for him and a huge sweater for you. The lingerie was a bit redundant at this point. You were  grabbing water from the kitchen, collecting yourself and tying your hair up when you heard a whimpering noise come from the hallway. 

“Baby~Babygirl??~” Yuta’s soothing yet panicked voice echoed through your large apartment. “Where’d you go?” 

He finally sees you and he practically stumbles into your arms again. “I missed you!~I thought you left me...” 

I would never leave you Yuta... 

You help Yuta back into your bed and hand him some water. “Can you hold me, Baby?”

You can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. When he got like this he became the man that you’ve longed for. A man that wanted you to be there. A man that could not only fill your physical needs but a man who would fill your emotional needs. You needed more than what Friday nights could offer. You were entire done with the constant tug and pull that you allowed yourself into. 

This wasn’t only his fault. It was all yours. 

You agreed to it. Heck, you were the one that made it very clear that you only wanted him-at the time- for one night of the week. So to give credit to Yuta, he was sticking to your request.

It was ironic. How you, his CEO, asked for a sub/dom relationship only to fall for him then end up hating the very terms that YOU set for the both of you to follow and abide by. How ironic is that?

Yuta shifts next to you. Refusing to let go of your waist. Keeping himself close. His scent is so strong around the sheets that you can’t help but cuddle into him more.Considering how cold your skin was this type of contentedness and comfort made you loose sight in the emotions that you’ve been holding back. He was so warm and manly to be around. This was a moment that you wanted to savor because you knew that in the morning. The only thing left of him would be his scent. 

Your eyes fight the exhaustion to bask in the moment but the battle proves to be lost when you shut them for a second. 

It’s dark. But you’re extremely warm. 

*********************

By morning, your alarm wakes you. To your surprise, someone stirs next to you and grabs your phone from the nightstand to shut it up. 

Yuta’s eyes are barely open while he crawls back into bed. His hands reach out to bring you into a warm embrace under the sheets. 

You shut your eyes again, dismissing this odd memory as a dream. 

When your eyes open again-

the bed is empty. 

You were alone. 

Again. 

**********************

“-to CEO (y/n) for her successful completion of this project.” Yuta proposes a toast the the company celebration dinner for closing the project. 

You nod and bow your head to everyone. 

All through the night, you sensed Yuta’s gaze following your every move. He knew what he was doing and how it was making you feel. Your neck was burning hot. You couldn’t believe that he was so blatantly checking you out in front of the entire company. 

Once you deemed it clear that people have gotten a few drinks in them, it was your time to leave them to enjoy the rest of the party. You rise from your seat and bid everyone goodbye. Not at all glancing at Yuta. 

A couple weeks have passed since the last time Yuta was last in your apartment and you concluded to yourself that he really only wants you as a vessel rather than something more. You had no one but yourself to blame for that. Those two weeks were hard. Harder than you thought it would be. 

Although all you guys had was sex, you missed his presence nonetheless. 

He didn’t ask to come over and you didn’t call for him to. 

You suppose it was a mutual agreement that would carry on and end up as a mere memory. 

Your apartment was the last place you wanted to be but there you were, week three without Mr. Nakamoto in sight. You missed his warmth. Withdrawal hits you like a truck. You admitted it to yourself and began crying. 

With little to, actually, no thought you decided to do another stupid thing. You call your ex.

The phone rings a couple of times before someone answers.

"Hello, (y/n)?"

"Please..." You voice trembles. "Come over..."

There's a pause and obviously he's thinking about whether he wants to come over. And for those few seconds of no response you can feel a lump form in your throat when you sense that he might hang up.

"Okay." But he doesn't. "What's your address?"

You send it to him and wait until someone rings your door.

"Johnny?"

As soon as you open the door a tall man embraces you tightly. Almost like he knew that's exactly what you needed. When the door shuts, your arms reach behind him and press him closer to you... but it wasn't the same.

You wanted it to be the same. You start tearing a little and press him closer to you.

"Tell me what's wrong." His hand soothes through your hair and you close your eyes. Mad that you weren't imagining Johnny but you in Yuta's comforting arms.

"I miss you..." You say your thoughts out loud.

"Me?"

No... I miss Yuta...

Johnny has always possessed a sense of what was going on so he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he guides you to your couch and places your body in his lap.

"You don't have to tell me anything, (y/n)." His hand rest on the small of your back. "But like I said when we broke up, I'm always here for you."

It takes you a minute to gather your voice since you've been crying but you tell Johnny what happened and how you've gotten yourself in the situation that you were in.

Johnny sits back and glances at you when you're done. "Well... At least you experienced some good dick after me. Glad to know you're not inactive."

His comment makes you laugh and it reminds you why he's such an important person to you. No matter how bad your relationship got, he never made you feel burdened. He was the type of person that once he was in your life he is there for life. And you really liked that about him.

"Thank you, johnny." You lean your head against his chest. "This means a lot."

"Anything for my first love." He smiles before tapping your side. "Now get the fuck up, my legs are falling asleep."

You laugh again and as a joke you straddle his lap to be an ass. "It just started getting comfy though..."

Johnny chuckles and tries to wrestle you like the good old times.

"So you replace me instead?"

A voice from the entrance of the living room startles the both of you and you can't help but think your mind was playing games with you.

"Yuta?"

You rise from Johnny's lap, fully aware that you know what this could look like to Yuta. He glares at you and Johnny.

"No Yuta its-"

"-It's not what it looks like?" Yuta scoffs. "Seems to me that I might've interrupted something."

Yuta's brow lifts in accusation and you stutter to find an explanation for yourself.

But then you realize something.

It was 12 am.

He came because he was horny.

Not because he missed you.

"Yuta ... just go." You point to the door. Taking all of your strength to do this.

He doesn't wait a second longer. His back faces you and in a matter of seconds all that's left is the echo of your slamming door.

You were in your apartment with Johnny but you've never felt so empty.

So alone.

>> [ Part 2 ]