#The ones I visited for the eclipse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livinghostly · 2 months

Text

i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer.

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this.

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like.

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway.

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words.

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children.

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence.

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home.

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students.

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried.

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta.

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack.

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said.

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

#spleen writes #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x mom!reader #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #jjk megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #mom!reader #satoru gojo fic #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader

1K notes · View notes

harmonysanreads · 29 days

Note

Hello !!! I hope you’re doing fine and enjoyed last patch quest! I really really love your writing, and especially like the way you write Ratio,,,,, that yandere Drabble you posted a while ago with Ratio and Aventurine sharing reader has been haunting me in the best ways <33

Since your request are open, could I ask for a one-shot of yandere Ratio and Aventurine? If it’s fine I’ll ask for reader to be shy/introverted but otherwise I’ll leave it up to your inspiration! Maybe about life at home, or visit in Penacony? Maybe they’re tormenting Reader through strip-poker? Maybe Ratio was inspired by the shrinking device and now they’re having fun with their pocket-sized darling? Anything you fancy I’m not difficult, I only ask you have fun!! <3

(I assumed your no-sequel rule only applied to one-shot, I deeply apologise if I was wrong fjekjdksjd)

Inure

yandere!aventurine x reader x yandere!dr ratio

cw(s) : yandere, forced proximity, slight dehumanization (but everything is sauteed in humor so bon appetit ✨)

wc : 1k

hi nonnie!! thank you so much for your sweet words<3 tbh every idea you presented was very enticing and i'll definitely keep them in consideration for later. for now though, i really wanted to write something soft for these two, i hope you don't mind :>

Inconveniences come in many forms.

Some more candid than most, while others lurk in the shadows of carelessness like hyenas ; ready to pounce on the unsuspecting prey at the opportune time. Trouble and tribulation eclipse the course of human life, masquerading as two sides of the same coin. What they are, in truth, a pair of mischievous twins who are always watching, evaluating and trapping their victims in elation-filled jumpscares. It is also true that woes differ based on the individual, some even see fit to opine that the source of misery is the individual themselves.

Your vexations however, are dictated by two idiosyncratic persons with interests as farther apart as two solar systems. Which isn't a lot if one considers the magnificence of the universe, but distanced enough to be the tillable land of your miseries. Said inconveniences usually arrive dressed as revoked privileges, confiscation of entertainment items and... movie nights.

A night where you're supposed to be enjoying a film as a group shouldn't have been such an adversity if the aforementioned individuals respected the bare minimum of being normal. On usual occasions, who you end up accompanying is maintained through a strict schedule as opposed to the much friskier notion of rolling-dices that was favored by a certain blonde (in which he always emerged victorious and was thus declared irrationally imbalanced by Veritas) — but, an unforseen lapse of management and chaos was bred.

In matters that concern you, it seemed as though even the most seamless co-operations failed to reach a simple consensus. So when the erudite Dr Ratio expressed eagerness to spend a ‘relaxing afternoon’ with your person, it clashed quite clamorously with Aventurine's desire to have you participate in one of his many adrenaline-high games. And because of the decrease in release of dopamine that came from being a frequent observer of their arguments, you ended up suggesting this dreadful activity ; Ratio's silent perusal by your left and Aventurine's equally quiet phone browsing by your right are all that remains of the earlier fiasco.

You consider it a shame, because unbeknownst to them, you actually were plotting ways to watch this particular film. But, when at approximately fifteen minutes into the story you realized you were the only one among you three that was paying it any attention at all — you felt, quite blatantly, deflated. Surprisingly though, that was not the main source of your current misery at all, no, no ; what was causing you distress was the deplorable portion of space that they alloted to you from the couch.

At least Ratio has the habit of crossing his legs subconsciously, making your life just a miniscule easier. Unlike Aventurine whose default setting is to be attached to any patch of your skin anytime you're within his radius and when he brings that to the cauldron of being compressed between him and Ratio — it perfectly justifies why you're dancing between the provocative lines of mild annoyance and a meltdown. You'd believe they forgot about your existence altogether if not for Ratio's definitely-not-intentional shifting and the without context headpats from Aventurine.

Their treatment, although (probably) not deliberate, suggest you to be the equivalent of the pampered housecat and if one was to generously point out the expression on your face at present, that allegation would be right.

You stifle a sigh that transitions into a yawn with your only friend in this dreadful world, your plush pillow. The dialogues exchanged by the actors in the movie gradually become unintelligible as your vision morphs into a kaleidoscope of black dots and patterns. You draw your knees closer until they become parallel to your chin, musing a scenario where you lean so into the couch that it swallows your form and hurls you into a wonderland free of covetous hands or hearts. Where you could roam without eyes attached to every move you make and most importantly, where the notion of inconveniences would cease to exist.

You've seen it happen in shows a younger you indulged in and a passing thought makes you smile sardonically ; the world is so bizarre that you've effortlessly found yourself in a situation as complex as your current one but, not bizarre enough to make fantasies such as these a reality. The noises from the screen, Ratio's nonchalant page turning and the fragrance of Aventurine's cologne make your lucidity sway, until darkness cradles you close.

That night, you found yourself having a rather tender dream. In your dream, the blonde promptly busied himself in positioning you more comfortably on his lap upon feeling your slumbering head hit his shoulder. You felt succinctly amused upon the ‘place the pillow under their head, moron!’ that left a certain virtuoso's lips. Said virtuoso, shifted the rest of your body to be rested on his lap with a gentleness that baffled even Aventurine. Some say that dreams are manifestations of the desires that stay stagnant within the crevices of our minds. If that theory holds even a fraction of credence, then the percipience of what your subconscious desires, leaves you feeling as solemn as sated.

By the hour you gain awareness of the waking world again, there is but silence surrounding the living room. Your first blink is followed by a series of more and your sense of feeling works faster before your sense of sight, it sticks quite insistently just above your knees and atop your head. You roll a bit and realize they are in fact the hands of Ratio and Aventurine respectively, holding you away from kissing the floor and cracking your nose. As your vision gains more clarity, you notice the purple-head, supported by the palm of his left hand and the arm of the couch. You rise up and notice Aventurine mirroring Ratio's position, you conclude them both to be asleep judging by their collective inertia despite your movements.

Your eyes shift downwards towards the pillow on which you rested moments before and seeing it positioned exactly atop Aventurine's lap, confirm your suspicions that the scene you witnessed in your sleep had, in fact, happened in reality. Perhaps the universe heard your hopeless plea and bargained it with this speck of generosity.

They really didn't move an inch — but the bubbling warmth was soon pushed down by — as if I was a cat they didn't want to disturb!

being treated like a cat by two of the most cat-like characters in hsr lol

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere dr ratio #yandere dr ratio x reader #yandere veritas ratio #yandere veritas ratio x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

590 notes · View notes

vasiktomis · 3 months

Text

Loophole (Zayne x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Zayne has an Evol flare-up while you’re visiting Snowcrest. You’re a good friend, so you help him out.

It doesn't mean anything if you don't move, right?

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~6800. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Reader is MC, Caretaking, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Doctor/Patient Relationship, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Cock Warming, First Time, Vaginal Sex, Photography, Unsafe Sex, Porn with Feelings, Switching. Post-chapter 4 spoilers. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“Let’s get you inside.”

The cold weather poses something of a threat to Zayne, you've realised.

He'd never admit such a thing, of course, but if he hadn't wanted you to make such an observation, he shouldn't have made it his responsibility to impose such an unexpectedly strong presence in your life.

A year ago, you barely knew him. To say he kept you at arms' length was an understatement, but with everything that's occurred in recent months — with such a void left in your life from the loss of Caleb and Grandma — and the ugly mysteries eclipsing once-happy memories — your doctor, of all people, is the one dedicating almost every minute of his time outside of work to trying to fill that void. It's not like he talks your ear off — he's Zayne, after all — but he makes a noticeable effort to make himself accessible to you whenever he can.

He's been a good friend to you at the sacrifice of his own comfort.

In the seven months that have passed since the explosion, you've had more exposure to Zayne than you've had any of your other friends. He rarely strays from his quiet stoicism, but it's far easier to read him. These days, you can't believe you once thought him intimidating. The softer aspects of his personality aren't offered willingly, but accidentally. A slip of the tongue here, a too-long stare at a community cat there, a smile he doesn't think you notice. He masks his requests for you to visit him in his overtime hours as nagging reminders for you to water the plants. He never asks you to bring him dinner, but there's always an extra seat pulled up at his desk when you arrive with it unannounced.

You’re sure he likes it well enough; getting to know you after all these years. You’re just not sold on how fond he is of you knowing him.

It shows stark on his typically taciturn features. Streetlamp light bounces off fluffy snow at all angles in the little village laneway, illuminating the man with an almost healthy glow as he walks stiffly beside you, right hand clutched against his side and his left doing all it can to keep from crushing the bones in yours.

“I’m fine.” He insists while you lead him up to the cabin, grimacing at a sudden chill of wind passing over the porch. There's a certain tone he uses when he's putting on the bedside manner. As a patient, you'd be soothed. As a friend, your patience wanes. He's not fine.

”I’ll get a fire going.” You mutter, ushering him inside. He tries amidst obvious pain to be gentlemanly, waiting for you to enter first, but a scowl on your part has him conceding defeat and ambling through the door. “Get in the shower. Can you turn it on by yourself?”

There’s no more warm light from the street in here. Dr. Noah likely would have fallen asleep hours ago, shortly after you’d left for dinner. Still, even in the dark, you can sense the irritation in him.

“You act like I’m frozen solid.” He retorts on his way to the bathroom, knowing better than to stick around despite the attempt to uphold his pride.

”Get your butt in the shower before I throw you in there myself.”

The warmer months gave you no initial reason to suspect anything, but as the weather worsened and temperatures dropped, Zayne began to feel more on-edge. You’d bore witness to his attacks in the past, but he was no more willing to share his condition with you beyond the odd occasion of being unable to switch it off after a battle. You knew what it looked like when his Evol was acting up. It almost caused a fight, the first time you asked about it. Then, when it became clear you weren’t simply going to leave him to his own devices whenever he was displaying the signs, Zayne steadily, reluctantly, began to let you assist. He couldn’t stand it — he still can’t, you’re sure — not playing caretaker for once, but the two of you found a rhythm; keeping an eye on his temperature, steering clear of fluctuations, little remedies that help him bounce back quicker when his Evol gets the better of him. It became second nature to you, like carrying an Epipen for a loved one at risk of anaphylaxis.

You won’t lie, though. It pisses you off. He’s a constant nag when it comes to your health regarding your heart condition, but there was no allowable mention of his condition when he brought you to Dr. Noah. Not that your opinion counts for anything, apparently, but what idiot cashes out his annual leave for an extended stay in a tundra when he's so prone to such reactions?

It had shocked you even more when your friend declared he’d be staying back for the foreseeable future, conducting research for the old man on a solo expedition on Mt. Eternal. Your friend — the one who'd taken it upon himself to be a stand-in for your lost family — alone, in the worst possible place he could be in his condition.

It was unthinkable.

Four weeks was your breaking point after you’d returned home without him.

Sure, he responded to your texts within seconds. Reception wasn’t good enough for calls, but he made sure to give you no logical reason to worry about him. It didn’t help. Once your dreams started to take the shape of him disappearing into the mountains, you cut your losses and decided to visit for the weekend.

Just as well, considering he’d been massaging his wrist in your periphery for the entirety of your first day. Still, he'd insisted on showing you around Snowcrest, spending as much time away from Dr. Noah's cabin as possible. You knew his tells. He was bordering on a flare-up and hiding it from you. Had he mentioned it and agreed to stay in tonight, you might not of had to drag him home with frost seeping out of his clothes and a foul mood. Instead, he chose to be proud about it.

Idiot.

God knows what could have happened to him if he hadn't come down from the mountain to spend the weekend with you.

He’d never let you get away with such stupidity, and it’s hard not to hold it against him. You came here out of worry in the first place, and the visit isn’t doing a thing to set your mind at ease.

You tend to rekindling the dimming embers in the fireplace, content to mind your business once you hear the shower turn on. At least he’s doing what he’s told.

The living room heats up steadily. New flames settle into a longer-lived glow. You get yourself changed into more suitable bed wear; a commandeered hoodie from your doctor’s medical school era, large enough to reach halfway to your knees. The frayed cuffs have since lost their elasticity and there are a few choice stains, and most condemning, the drawstrings have been chewed to tassels — but god, if it isn’t comfy. Time stretches on, and while the worry gnaws at the back of your mind, you leave Zayne to his privacy. So long as you don’t hear a thump, you’re content to imagine he’s probably just in there being mad at himself over not being the sensible one for once.

Zayne keeps himself locked away for the better part of an hour, in the end. Even Pie pads out into the living room to investigate what you’re doing up alone in the middle of the night before a scritch sends the fox on its way back to bed.

You’ve slid most of the way off the couch by the time the man emerges from his room in fresh pajamas. With your back to the rug, you watch him approach stiffly, slowing to a halt upside-down. He’s still rubbing at that wrist, you note.

“You’re still up.” He mutters, brow knitted in discomfort.

There’s frost on his neck. His lips are blue. It wasn’t even this bad when you were outside. A pit forms in your stomach.

Then, his wake hits you. Cold air, chilling you to the bone, and you sit up in a flash.

“Zayne—“

He silences you with a little hand motion, stepping around you to seat himself as close as he can to the fireplace.

“You’re half-frozen.” You continue when he offers you nothing else. Crawling onto the couch beside him, you reach up to tug at the collar of his sweater, trying to inspect the severity of the attack. “God, you should have said something.”

“I thought you were asleep.” He replies quietly. “I’ve seen — how much it takes to wake you-“

Zayne flinches from your touch when your fingertip skims his neck. The most aggressive warning to stay back that he can risk without waking his mentor. You ignore him, of course. You always do. Sitting close, you press yourself to his side on the couch, guiding his right arm between your thighs. Your fingers lace between his from both sides, covering as much surface area as possible as you use your body to fend off the cold.

A moment is all it takes to see some of the tension in his face disappear. He breathes through the pain, eyes closed, and you shift your gaze to the fireplace to give him his privacy with it.

”You’re in so much trouble when this passes.”

A short, sharp chuckle slips through Zayne’s teeth. He nods once. “I know.”

You sit together like this for a long while, letting him sap the heat from your body to combat the flare-up. If not for the fire, you’d be shivering. It takes time, but eventually Zayne’s breathing evens out. His face relaxes, bit by bit. His half-frozen arm feels just a little cold to the touch.

Neither of you part. Not just yet. There’s too much left unsaid, and Zayne takes far too much solace in quiet to make the first move.

You let your temple drop to his shoulder. “Snow village dates are nice, but most girls would say yes to ‘Go Fish’ and hot cocoa if it means their date makes it through the night.”

After a second, Zayne rests his head against yours.

He inhales.

He pauses.

Then…

“I wanted you to have a nice time. I didn’t think it through.”

…God, he’s such a sweet man. It’s not wonder he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

There’s such a sense of finality to the way he says it. You suppose it’s not necessarily a wrong way to think of it, but it’s not his fault. Sure, it’s your last night together for what may amount to months, and he was stupid enough to think he could get away with poking the bear, but you’d rather have him come home alive and well. Not a victim to his own Evol.

It doesn’t sit right with you to let it end like this. The moment he’s recovered, he’s going to insist you both go to sleep. You’ll take the guest bed, and he’ll take the pull-out trundle, and he’ll remain there, soundless with his back to you. In the morning, you’ll say your goodbyes, and that will be that. The next time you see him will probably be for a check-up, and he’ll spend the entirety of the ECG acting like you’re mere acquaintances again.

No, you’re not losing momentum.

You’re not sure if it’s warmth in general, or if it’s a reaction specific to you — through trust, or the Aether core — there’s just no telling. Zayne keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to ever be sure, but you do know for certain that you hold the quickest remedy. If it’s just warmth, he never lets anyone but you get close enough to supply it. If it’s trust, likewise. The Aether core? You’re the only one.

“What are you—“

Zayne stiffens when you climb into his lap. He winces in discontentment; at such an intimidate proximity, at the physical danger he still poses, at the feeling of your thighs astride his. He doesn’t look pleased in the slightest, but still, his knees shift together, offering you a more comfortable perch on which to explain yourself.

You can feel the cold still radiating from him, fighting his body to keep from regulating its own temperature. It’s unpleasant, the way the chill claws at you, reaching across the expanse of your front. The joints in your hands already ache just from holding his arm to your chest. It’s imaginable, what it must be like to host such an Evol. What it must be like to have your own flesh freeze from the inside-out on a whim.

“Not done keeping you warm.” You answer simply, making a conscious effort to keep your teeth from chattering for his sake. He’s exercising enormous restraint not flinging you off of him already. You shouldn’t push your luck by sending him into any more of a panic.

“It’s not safe for you to be this close.” Zayne protests.

“Then I’m making you safe.”

This time, a growl escapes him. Pain cuts his patience with your impudence short. “You’re going to get yourself hurt—“

Zayne’s words die in his throat when you drape yourself over him, chest to chest, arms languidly curling over his shoulders. He goes completely silent.

“Aren’t you always telling me you can control it, anyway?” You muse, relaxing into him, moulding yourself to his body. The white frost that blooms beneath his skin begins to fade from his throat, unable to contend with the warmth of your breath. “If you didn’t want me doing this you shouldn’t have shown me how well it works.”

“That was after the aid of a hot shower.” Zayne argues. His logic might apply for that aborted attempt at an early-morning hike, but it falls flat tonight. “I was trying to warm up after the shower.”

Yeah, look how well that turned out. He’s as bad at lying as you are.

“So you’re saying I ought to have—“

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If it’s not helping, Zayne, tell me.”

“…It’s helping.” He mutters.

You declare your victory with a hum, tucking your face into the collar of his sweater.

Even his scent is cold, somehow.

Beneath you, Zayne shifts, conceding defeat. You feel his lips ghost the side of your head. Considering — then retreating from a kiss — opting instead to rest his chin on you. His affected arm remains wedged between you, while his free hand comes to rest on your waist.

Minutes pass. Zayne’s breathing steadies to a resting rhythm. Eventually, the ice retreats into his flesh, disappearing with only a lingering chill. It shifts, marking the man’s return to normal, but he doesn’t announce anything. Instead, he tugs his arm out, only to wrap around you, surrendering to the moment.

“Do you have plans, while I’m away?” He asks.

“Tara’s been looking at the blank spots on my calendar, so I’ve probably got things on without knowing, yet.”

“Blank spots.”

”Yeah. Some of us have those.”

”Sounds like you don’t know what to do with yourself without me.”

“Please. I won’t have to worry about you bullying me. Maybe, y’know, I’ll do just fine without you.”

A chuckle escapes him. Tentatively, he toys with the fabric of your hoodie. “You’re not going to wash this at all, are you.”

Heat climbs up your neck at the suggestion. Of all the night clothes you had to bring, why did it have to be something you’d stolen from him?

You’re no coward. You rise to challenge. “Can’t miss you when it feels like I’ve got you with me.”

“I know you’ll miss me,” Zayne retorts, and wow, he’s really angling for a comeback after having you subject him to being taken care of, “But that’s no excuse for poor hygiene.”

“Poor hygiene—!”

You lean back to glower at the man, only to find him smirking up at you.

“I��ve half a mind to expect to find you asleep on the platform when the train pulls in, simply because you were too excited to wait at home for me to drop by.”

Your ears are positively scalding. You feel yourself shrinking, suddenly not so confident taking up as much space in the room. How does he have you so well figured out? Are you really that much of an open book? Compared to him, sure, but you’d hoped you carried a little more mystery about you than sitting on a station platform for a quasi-boyfriend-without-benefits like a dog.

Even if that is the case — does he really have to rub it in your face?

He can’t get away with this.

Speaking plainly, Zayne’s warmed up plenty. There’s no real reason for either of you to remain this close, and yet — despite lauding himself as the rational half of this friendship, his arms almost keep you from moving any further away.

His expression doesn’t falter with your silence, remaining ever-undisturbed. It unnerves you. His smiles never last more than a second, and you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s looked you in the eye with a pleasant face on. He’s on a power trip. If you don’t cut him down right this second he’ll go nuclear. He’ll leave you hanging with a ‘goodnight’ and a kiss on the forehead and you’ll both never speak of tonight again.

This is it. This is the last straw. Tonight, you leave him hanging.

“You want me to miss you so fucking bad, huh?” You accuse him, tapping a finger to your chin as you pretend to wonder. His eyebrow ticks. “Is that what you’re into? Man, you medical staff are all so power hungry.”

Zayne looks thoughtful for a moment. A thumb idly traces back and forth along your skin, barely tucked beneath your hoodie. It’s such a cautious touch. You wish he wasn’t just all talk. “Perhaps you’re easier to deal with when one considers you might actually like getting bossed around.”

There’s no hiding the erection that sits wedged between you. There’s no ignoring the heat that pools in your core every time it strains against your cunt, blocked only by his sweatpants and your underwear.

There’s no way he can’t feel your heart beat throbbing against him.

And yet — he pretends not to be taking part in any of it.

You think about it for a moment.

Then, you roll your hips forward, slowly, gently. Your nerves spark as your clit finds the pressure it needs against the underside of his cock.

It takes everything in your power to keep from doing it again.

A tiny shiver makes its way out of Zayne. Frustration, perhaps. You angle a knowing little smile at him, and his throat bobs. He knows he’s been caught.

Checkmate.

“Doctor Zayne, are you getting off on this?” You ask, and his face flushes scarlet. His eyes widen, caught off-guard by you finally crossing the threshold.

”I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answers lamely, pointedly avoiding looking down.

“You are!”

“Not so loud. It’s n-… it’s nothing.” He insists in a hushed voice, shooting a look over your shoulder before he’s satisfied that the coast is clear of anyone who might be privy to what the two of you are doing. “Just a biological reaction to stimuli.”

“Which stimuli?” You ask, feigning curiosity. “The cuddling, or this?”

To stress your point, you do it again, biting back the swell of enjoyment at the way his lips part of their own accord. A little hum spills forth, and his own hips chase the motion, just for a second, before he halts.

“Please.” Zayne murmurs, moving to hold you still. Inching you back onto his thighs, condemning himself to reveal two little damp patches. One where the grey fleece of his sweatpants pulls most taut. The other a little lower, where you’ve been rubbing your cunt along his clothed shaft.

“You need to learn when you’ve teased enough.”

What — fall back? Now? When all your nerves are alight?

Your tongue wets your lips as you take in the sight of him. Well on his way to wrecked, but not quite there. His expression remains otherwise impassive, but his pupils are far too blown to help him maintain the facade.

“You’re one to talk. Can’t hack it when it’s not you in charge?” You challenge him. “You’re not usually one to shy away from uncharted territory.”

You can’t help but reach out, itching to touch him. Fingertips smooth along his length, feather-light from the bottom up. His cock twitches when you reach the tip, begging for more.

“Ah—“ Long fingers snatch at your wrist, holding you fast. “Try no man’s land.”

“It’s nothing.” You assure him. “You said it yourself.”

Nothing. No different to how he so often strays into treating you, with all his dates and touches. Nothing, midday naps and linking your pinky-fingers as you walk together. Nothing, like the spare clothes you both reserve a drawer for.

“Just warming you up. That’s all.”

Zayne’s chest expands. His gaze fixes on your fingertips curling insistently at his waistband despite his grip keeping you at bay. “That’s all.”

Disbelief? Determination? Disappointment? You’re not familiar enough with how each of these sound in his throat to properly identify it, but Zayne’s grip on your wrist releases nonetheless. He opts to help you make more comfortable work of his track pants, pushing them down just a little to allow you easier access. There’s no presence of approval at how greedy you are about it, pawing and snatching at your prize while he tries to remain nonchalant.

You do try to give him the dignity of privacy by not looking down when he settles and you finally wrap both hands around his cock. He’s already indignant as it is, and the rumble that vibrates deep in his chest as your fingers close around him isn’t helping.

Oh — maybe just a little tease.

“Hey.” You chide, grinning. His eyes crack open, just enough to narrow at you. “Don’t make it weird. I’m a professional.”

It earns you a scoff. Zayne’s fingers, settled on your thighs, give a retaliatory squeeze, thumbs pressing just hard enough into your adductors to skirt on discomfort. He watches you tense at the feeling, and sensing an opportunity to shift the attention back off himself, decides to squeeze harder.

You finally flinch with an “Ow!”, and the man smiles to himself. Mission accomplished. He lets go.

”You’re the professional? How many surgeries have you performed?”

”How many have you performed?”

”…A lot, genius.”

“Didn’t you tell me that some of your worst patients are doctors themselves?”

“Your point being?”

There’s no point — at least not in arguing with him. He’s only trying to distract you. You shift over him, and his attitude dissolves. He leans back, maintaining as much distance as he can — or perhaps to watch, as you tug your underwear to the side — line yourself up — and sink down onto his cock.

Zayne’s chest expands, but he makes no noise. His eyes close. His lips part. A minor crease forms between his eyebrows. It might as well be a sob. You’d use such a reaction against him if you weren’t more concerned with suppressing your own, lest he catch you out. Your cunt burns from the sudden, full intrusion, and his diverted attention gives you the moment you need to grow accustomed to it.

Once you’ve gotten over the initial shock of the feeling, you brush any intrusive thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter if he’s one of your oldest and closest friends. It doesn’t matter if he’s your doctor. You were already squarely planted in conflict-of-interest territory the moment he took you on as a patient.

You try to ignore your own desire. Your body catches up with your actions quickly, igniting touch-starved nerves that you’ve long-fantasised him satisfying. Heat builds inside you at a nervous system realising you’re finally giving it what it wants, and it only screams for more. Of course you’ve wanted Zayne. You adore him, but he’s not the kind of man who could balance a friendship with benefits; if anything, he finds a way to be the inverse of such a thing. He gives you everything in the way of a relationship except sex, and with him steering so clear of crossing that boundary with you, you have to tread carefully.

As much as you want to, this is delicate.

“My point is: zip it and let me take care of you.” You manage.

Besides, its not like you’re actually having sex with him. He’s continually pushing the boundaries of platonic with all his touches and hugs anyway. It’s not like he has a leg to stand on if he wants to protest what sitting on his cock might mean for your relationship. Hell, this isn’t even the first time he’s been hard when you’ve had his hips pinned down with your own.

If anything, you’re doing the guy a favour by taking the responsibility off him to go this far.

Zayne doesn’t bounce back as quickly as you do. His eyes remain scrunched shut, his core engaged beneath your palms as you brace your weight to settle into a more comfortable position in his lap. He looks worried. Apprehensive.

“Doctor Zayne?” Concern begins to creep in, just a little. “Okay, you can say something now.”

“Please,” He grits between his teeth, and relief floods your body as some semblance of calm returns to his expression, “Don’t call me that — like this.”

“Like what? I’m just warming you up, remember?” You offer a smile when he opens one eye, mood shifting to quizzical.

“You’re so immature. And for the record, this constitutes malpractice. You’re a terrible doctor.”

”Trust the process.”

”Fine. What’s the course of treatment?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but chuckle at such quiet outrage. It’s getting easier to read him. Relaxing against his front, you ignore a little gasp on his part to loop your arms around his neck again. Dishonest pretences be damned, this really is doing the trick. “All you need to do is stay still.”

Zayne weighs up his options for only a moment before giving in. His arms slip around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder, just barely nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He’s breathing in your scent, and the following exhale into your skin has you stifling a shiver.

Then, there’s a flex within you.

“Hey!” You choke, “I said stay still back there!”

“Quiet down. It was only a reflex.” Zayne defends, a little too cavalier to fly under the radar. “Besides, I’m not the one squirming.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. Your hips are pointy.”

Zayne’s hips slot up into yours, and the feel of him nudging just a little deeper has your eyes stinging. You fail to stifle a little squeak, and you’re shushed for it immediately.

“Just getting comfortable.” Zayne’s words lick at your ear, and the sound of him sends shivers through you, pooling between your legs, pleading with you to satisfy the ever-nagging want to start riding him. “You’re like a vice.”

He has to know how much of an effect he has on you. There’s no way he doesn’t.

You don’t respond to his attitude — however, the condemning, responding, constricting of your insides around his cock surely doesn’t go unnoticed, and with a hollow breath, he lifts you, just a little, enough to draw back and push back in. He’s slow about it; infuriatingly so, almost like if he inches in and out at enough of creeping pace you’ll either not bother to be strict with him, or you’ll simply abandon your own rules in favour of crossing the boundary he’s silently begging you to cross for him.

No. He’s not getting the upper hand here. Not when he gets to pretend all his little actions are forgettable. Platonic. Accidental. Misunderstood. There’s only so many times a guy can subtly grind on someone during a spooning session and claim ignorance when called out about it.

You lock your feet beneath his knees, and sink down onto him, hard. Pleasure blooms. Your cunt aches for more. A sharp breath escapes Zayne, threatening to blossom into an appreciative groan that would only serve to tempt you without your hand clapping over his mouth and a ‘shh!’.

“You can keep still, or this stops.” You announce in a whisper, and he watches you defiantly from behind your hand.

Zayne’s gaze eventually breaks away from yours. Conceding. For now, at least. You lower your hand from his mouth, and relax, reaching across the cushion to pluck your phone from the couch and check your messages.

Already, he’s bothered by your lack of undivided attention.

“You’re on your phone.” He huffs.

“I’m not rewarding your behaviour.” You reply simply.

“You’re not implying that behaving differently would warrant a reward, are you?”

That’s for him to figure out.

You shift your weight maybe just a little more than you need to, indulging in the feeling of his cock shift with you, within you, pressing insistently against that one spot that almost has your constitution coming apart at the seams. Zayne trembles momentarily beneath you, swallowing hard. He’s keeping his cool well enough, but as you settle into the new angle, no longer moving, his frustration makes itself known with another twitch inside you.

If he keeps doing that, you’re not sure you can hold out.

“You really think this is helping?” He asks, voice tight.

“You don’t believe me?” You pout, tapping your home screen and opening your camera app. “Fine, let the expert see for himself.”

Switching to selfie cam, you watch as the man glances at his image on the screen for half a second, before tearing his gaze away. Not a shocker, you reason. He’s probably never seen himself with a hair out of place. Flushed cheeks and dilated pupils? You might as well have shown him a traffic collision.

“Aw, come on. Look how much colour’s come back to your face.”

Zayne musters the courage to look up, but not at the phone. His eyes narrow at you. Accusatory. “I’m not interested in giving you blackmail material.”

“What? Get real. There’s nothing incriminating going on. Especially not when you angle it like this.” You switch on a filter and lean down into the man. “See?”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and his head tilts to get a better look at whatever scheme you’re cooking up. On the screen, both your flushed faces smooth out, blushing perfectly. Cat ears and whiskers. Cheek to cheek. Just another one of your countless selfies with completely platonic friends.

You take the shot. The shutter clicks.

“Cute.” Zayne mutters drily.

“You think so?”

“Only how much fun you seem to be having of it.”

Your brow knits. “Oh yeah? All right, stick in the mud, you take over.”

He gives too much away at that response. His long fingers immediately slip over your hips. He’s readying to flip you onto your back before he notices you’re holding the phone out to him. Then, knowing he’s shown his hand, he has no choice but to recover his pride.

Much to your chagrin, Zayne plucks the phone from your hand, aborting whatever miraculous step he’d been about to take. A corner of his mouth ticks, minutely. He angles your phone away from you, tapping and swiping. His own phone buzzes. Then, he casts the device at the other end of the couch, out of your reach. “I think it’s getting a bit late for screens.” He murmurs. Fingers smooth up and over the swell of your hips. His long arms uncoil from your waist, releasing you as he leans back. Leaving you with a lonesome chill. “And you ought to be going to bed.”

Is that…rejection? Has he just been humouring you up until this point?

You tilt your head. “I’m sorry. Is this not okay?”

“This is fine.”

He looks at the fireplace. Stoic as ever.

“Then what?” You frown.

He doesn’t respond.

Your throat runs dry. Dread creeps up through your heart.

“Hey. Talk to me.” You urge, smoothing your fingers along his jaw, and he leans into your palm.

Seconds pass. Zayne finally regards you again. There’s an acknowledging incline of his head — almost a polite bow. A pre-emptive apology for what he’s about to say.

“What happens after this?” He asks. “Do we part ways at the train station in the morning and the next time we see each other, it’ll be as doctor and patient?”

Oh.

“Is that what we are to you?” You ask, not entirely sure if you want to know.

He dodges the question the best way he knows how: with rationality. “I feel that if that scenario is what you want, we should say goodnight. My understanding of our relationship won’t change, I promise you, but if this goes further, at least one of us is going to feel differently. It would be better if there were no misunderstandings between us.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and lovely all the same, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a tipping point, at least before saying goodbye. Trust Zayne, of course, to turn to smoke and mirrors when it comes to a confession of feelings, but you’ve known him long enough to see how far out of his comfort zone all of this is.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You ask, aborting an attempt on his part to avert his gaze with a finger beneath his chin.

His expression remains inexplicable. Then, there’s that little tilt of his head. The quirk of an eyebrow. “Your assumption is correct.”

The apprehension that’s been building in the back of your mind disperses the moment he says it. Your resolve all but disappears. “My understanding,” You begin, reaching up to cup your hand over the other side of his face, “is that I’ve wanted you ever since I walked into that restaurant last year.”

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds yours in a heartbeat. Previously unsure hands pull you against him, locking you in his embrace. He’s so awfully gentle about it all despite your combined strength. Such a gentleman. It comes as no surprise that he shudders at the intrusion of your tongue past his lips — what does surprise you is how quickly he catches up to your pace. Inviting you in. Slipping an arm lower to brace your weight, and you feel yourself being pulled up off of his cock, just until only the head remains at your entrance.

The loss of him has you incensed. He keeps you from sinking back down, and your protesting whines are suffocated with another kiss. All he’s left you with to express yourself is your hands, and you seize the opportunity, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, just slightly at the roots.

He breaks away with a little noise. Not pained, but shocked. Another one of his spots, you reason, and he’s just as displeased that you’ve found it.

“You don’t know when to quit.” Zayne pants. His fringe dusts your forehead. “What — what were we saying about bad behaviour going unrewarded?”

You’re too mindless right now to play any games. There’s no more thrill of the build that you can handle. Not after this long.

You break, instantly.

“Please —“ You whimper, almost trembling in his grip, trying in vain to take him back in again. “Zayne, I need it — please—“

Zayne relents right away. He gives you what you want, lowering you, burying himself in you to the hilt. Then he lifts you again, building into a steady rhythm.

”You’re so — you’re so frustrating.” He manages between kisses. “Should’ve told me this is all it takes for you to do as you’re told.”

More. You need more. Heavenly as it is, it’s not enough, just having him in you. You push back, and Zayne takes the hint. He’s said his piece. He lets you take the lead again without a fight, admiring the view as you roll onto the balls of your feet, gripping the back of the couch to keep yourself stable. The new angle feels deeper, each stroke rolling drifting sharply over your nerves as he brushes that spot inside you. It takes a moment for Zayne to kick into gear, brain short-circuiting as he watches you squat on his cock, taking what you need from him. Then, he leaves you to support your own weight. Fingers wrench at the front of your hoodie, yanking it up to your sternum, and his tongue sweeps a nipple. In the time it takes for you to react, his other hand has snaked between you, between your legs. His thumb rolls over your clit just as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. The keen barely escapes your lips before Zayne’s hand claps over your mouth, continuing his assault.

It goes from too little to too much. It creeps up on you so fast, so suddenly, and there’s nothing you can do but ride through it. A muffled hum is all the warning you can give him. Your pace staggers as the burn in your thighs catches up to you, but Zayne only goes faster, rubbing merciless little circles into your nerves. His hips roll up into you, compensating as best he can for your loss of control. Finally, the band snaps, and you sob against his hand, spasming around him, tears pricking at your eyes with the intensity of it all. You go positively boneless, and Zayne breaks away just enough to let you collapse into his chest as he carries you through it, breaths quickening as the lingering spasms of your orgasm invoke his own.

“Fuck, I’m—“ He barely stammers, releasing you only to coil his arms around your torso again, readying to pull out.

“Not going anywhere.” You promise, clinging to him. Your fingers comb through his hair, tugging again, and a whimper dies in Zayne’s throat. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. His hips roll up into you once, twice, thrice more, and then he goes still. Buried in you to the hilt as he tips into oblivion.

He’s so subtle about it that you barely even realise he’s coming. Maybe it’s the effort not to wake Dr. Noah. Maybe it’s like this every time. Having him hold you with such desperate reverence while he does his best not to judder in stark contrast to to the feeling of him pulsing within you, you reason you’d like to find out. He hides his face from you throughout, only pulling his forehead from your clavicle when the aftershocks have come and gone.

Zayne looks lovelier than ever like this — coming out of a blissful haze, gazing up at you with cautious adoration. His focus flickers between your eyes and your lips. His chest expands and collapses like he’s like a 5-miler, but his breaths are smooth.

Even now, he’s trying to maintain a cool composure.

“Forgive me.” He mutters, not quite meeting your eye.

Your head tilts. Chasing him. “Huh? Why?”

“I exercised poor judgement. That was rotten of me. I should have known better, given I’ve never prescribed birth control to you.”

“You really think I’d come to you for birth control?” You snort.

Zayne’s brow creases. An incredulous look totally undermined by how positively wrecked he looks right now. “I am your physician. Or has your other doctor friend decided to become real after all?”

Your fingers comb through his hair again. Despite a pleasant sigh on his part at the sensation, his expression remains steeled.

“Hey.” You finally manage to capture his gaze, only for any tells to evaporate. “Could you tell me something?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Are you more jealous that I might have had sex with someone who wasn’t you, or that I might have gone to another doctor?”

Zayne considers his answer for a long moment. His head tilts in that particular way it does when he has to make a decision, eyeing you expectantly. Punishment for daring to push him out of his comfort zone.

He presses a hand to your forehead.

A thoughtful hum escapes him.

“Curious. Your temperature’s dropping. On second thought, you should stay another day so I can observe you.”

“You’re avoiding the question!”

“Here. I’ll keep you warm. You can install those camera filters on my phone to pass the time.”

#zayne love and deepspace #li shen #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #vas fics

551 notes · View notes

imcole · 2 years

Text

once again thinking ab my crung kidcorror au iorjakldfsdoifsdf

#rotating batim fnaf and ppt in my brain at critical speeds #theyre friends they hangout and are one big found family #bendy and wuggy live in the daycare #baldi helpy and that fucked up arcade sun or eclipse run the gangs mc server #digital mfers interacting w sometimes 2d mfers interacting w organic nonhumans interacting w robotic nonhumans interacting w somewhat haunte #d mfers . listen #theyre all weird its fine #its my autism i get to choose the soup #. i think itd be funny if theyre in the same universe at creepypastas too so splendy can come visit w his kids sally and ben

0 notes

itsillchangethislater · 5 months

Text

Y/n - “Good thing I had those flash bangs, huh Moon?”

Moon - *family guy death pose*

It’s okay buddy, we’ve all been there. I’ve always loved this moment in the fic, the pure FEAR that y/n has at seeing Eclipse for the first time is just *chefs kiss*. Paired with the dca lifeless husk, the dark tomb, vampires on the loose??? It was a packed chapter!!!! And such evocative imagery!

I mixed my inks and digital on this one cause anyone who has ever worked with ink I’m sure can attest, once you go black, you can never go back. Going too dark is irreparable and FRIGHTENINGLY easy lol…I was a weenie and fired up procreate for the final shading. But! I am pretty happy with the final product! I’d like to have done more detail on the walls? But with the text going to be added there, I didn't want the readability to be affected.

I did originally want to do travel shots for the location of each new place the boys and y/n visited. So there was a draft for a scene of them sitting in the graveyard together. But I just kinda ran out of stamina lol. I also wanted to make sure I had a space for the vampire chapter header so, alas graveyard Sun, you shall not be included!

cryptid sightings by @naffeclipse

Eclipse design by @themeeplord

#cryptid sightings fanart #cryptid sightings #fnaf sb au #fanf moon #Wren art #wren binds a book

358 notes · View notes

teyamsgrl · 8 months

Note

Hi Jade! Do you think you'd be up to do Neteyam fic where he and the reader are sweet on each other but because she's younger than him and friends with Lo'ak he doesn't wanna go that route with her so he distances himself from her and he starts vetting available girls in the clan as a distraction and this makes the reader decide to put her needs first and she starts thinking about future mates since Neteyam isn’t seemingly worried about her. But then a rumor starts that either Lo'ak and reader are to be mates or someone else is courting her and this pushes Neteyam to stake his claim and make her his.

❗️MDNI ❗️

hi!!!! oh my goddddd this idea is amazing, everyone say THANK YOU ANON 🗣️ jealous and in love neteyam woowowowowo i'm dead already - also this gif is so fucking crisp and clear holy fuck he is so fine respectfully

p.s: sorry it took me forever to get this completed! had some writer's block along with uni starting again 🥲

just a distraction ✧ neteyam

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, agedup!neteyam, dom!neteyam, jealous!teyam, younger!reader, sub!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn??, dirty talk, oral f & m receiving, missionary 😮‍💨 - paskalin: honey

despite being lo'ak's age and his best friend, you and neteyam got along extremely well. this 'getting along' also included a lot of unsaid feelings and the romantic tension between you both was unbelievably visible yet neither of you ever said a word. your actions showed enough though; the extra long hugs, the touches as you pass each other, the undivided attention as you teach each other new skills, the looks you share throughout the day. you were so obviously in love with neteyam and you figured he maybe felt the same; that is until he started to avoid you a week ago. it hurt. it hurt so bad.

what made it even worse was that he was going around the village and chatting up all the girls, showing off and being touchy. it made your blood boil as you watched him because that should be you. as you watch him speak to kai'ra, a very skilled hunter, you start to snap out of it. clearly neteyam doesn't want you so why are you sitting here pining over him? what's the fucking point? sure, it sucked to accept that you would never be with neteyam like you had anticipated for a long time but there was no point in sulking about it. there were many other desirable men in the clan and you figured that you'd find the right one eventually.

"i heard that y/n is being courted, is that true, lo'ak?" neytiri questions as the sully family sits together in their hut eating an evening meal. neteyam almost chokes on the food in his mouth, eyes wide and jealousy rising in his chest. "yeah, by ät’uk and i think someone else too" lo'ak responds to his mother nonchalantly before continuing to eat. there are other men attempting to court y/n? what had he done? neteyam couldn't deny his feelings for you, they were almost overwhelming. it was hard for him to put distance between you both, but he felt that it was right due to the fact that you are younger and best friends with his little brother. this was clearly a mistake. the pit in his stomach was haunting, just knowing there were other men chasing after you had him anxious and on top of that, angry. neteyam set his bowl down and stood up abruptly, telling his family that he just needed some air and to walk by himself. he rushed out of the hut, turning left to head to where he knew you'd be; tree of voices.

you went to the tree of voices every night before eclipse to visit your late father, the visits always bringing you peace. just as you detach your queue from the tree, you hear someone approaching. you rarely saw others approach the tree of voices at this time of night, so you got a bit startled naturally. "it's just me", you hear that familiar voice you love so much. your heart swelled as he came into the light expelled by the tree, you had missed him despite his actions. "neteyam.." you say, nervously shifting to stand up and face him. "is ät’uk courting you?" he asks matter of factly, a glow of jealousy in his amber eyes. "uh... he has been trying, yes, so has tar'ete" you answer him, observing the way his nose scrunches at your words. "well, that's not gonna happen" he takes a step closer to you, now chest to chest. "and you get to decide that for me? that's funny, especially since you've been avoiding me" your tone is harsh, but it was true, what right did he have to state his opinion when he left you in the dust?

"look- i just thought that since you're younger and lo'ak's best friend it would be better to not initiate something with you, but" his hands move to grab your hips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "it was a mistake. i talked to all these other girls and i felt nothing, then i heard you were being courted and i just- you're mine and i won't let anyone else have you" he breathes out, pressing his forehead to yours and allowing his lips to ghost over yours. "i've always been yours, neteyam. it killed me to watch you with all those other girls.." you whisper softly, your own hands gripping his shoulders as though he could slip away any second. "i know, it was just a distraction. i'm sorry, paskalin.." the pet name effortlessly falls from his lips, said lips slowly inching closer to yours. you nod slightly, breath tickling his lips. before you can act first he presses his lips to yours, moving in sync with yours as though you had done this a million times before.

you hum into the kiss, hands running to weave into his braids as his tongue slips into your mouth, gliding along your own tongue. his hands on your hips pull them against his, bulge pressing against you and bringing more wetness between your legs. "neteyam" you whine out softly, grinding into his bulge and pulling out a moan from him. "y/n..." he sighs as he watches you sink to your knees, hands untying his loincloth from his tail that is swishing around in excitement. your eyes widen slightly as his cock bounces out of the confines of his loincloth, hard and leaking already. you lick the tip softly, his head falling back from the sensation. "wanna be yours..." you murmur, kissing along his shaft. "you are, i promise" he moans out as your mouth engulfs his tip, sucking and gradually taking in his entire length.

you start bobbing your head up and down, gagging slightly as his tip hits the back of your throat. "that's it, fuck..." neteyam's hands hold your head as he thrusts gently into your mouth, your mouth his to use. he moans as he continues, the whining and choking sounds turning him on even further. he pulls you off of him and you gasp for air, hand wrapping around his length to stroke him. "no- it's your turn, paskalin" he holds out his hands for you and you grab them, standing up and facing him once again. he is now the one to drop to his knees, hands swiftly removing your loincloth in seconds. he grabs your left leg, hoisting it over his shoulder so your glistening hole is on display. his arms keep you steady on one leg while he leans in, tip of his tongue gently flicking over your clit. you shudder at the touch and whine out his name softly, bringing a smirk to his lips. he leans in again and brings your clit into his mouth, suckling on it like there's no tomorrow.

neteyam moves downwards, tongue plunging into your hole and lapping at your wetness while he leaves marks on your thighs from how tight his grip is. "teyam-" you whine, hands holding his head not only for stability but out of pure pleasure. he hums against you, vibrations shooting through your body as his mouth continues it's assault on you. his one hand moves back to grab the plush of your ass, lightly spanking as he shoves his face further into you. "feels good" you squeak out, hips bucking into his mouth frantically. "yeah? wanna cum on my cock babygirl?" he mumbles between licks to your clit. "please yes" you gasp and lock eyes with him, allowing him to lie you flat on your back.

neteyam crawls over top of you, one hand beside your head as the other lines his cock up with your entrance. the pressure of his tip at your hole has you mewling already, hands reaching for his biceps as he begins to push in. the stretch is intense yet the most pleasurable thing you had ever felt, your back arching in an instant. his breath is shaky as he bottoms out, pulling away slightly to ram right back into you. he leans to press his forehead on yours as he settles on a rhythm, breath grazing your lips as your rock back and forth together. "shit-" he groans as your walls squeeze him on each thrust, his fingers pressing into the dirt below you. "oh eywa..." you whine, nails dragging down neteyam's toned back.

"so good.... you're mine, aren't you?" he hums, hips jerking continuously and causing squelching sounds to fill your ears. "yours, all yours" you moan, nails digging into his back further as your orgasm begins it's fast approach. "that's right- fuck, i'm close.. where do you-" "inside, please" you beg, legs tugging him in by the waist as you begin to quiver. "okay- oh babyyy.." he groans as he pumps you full, your own orgasm releasing simultaneously. both of your breathing is heavy as you come down, bodies pressed together.

"you're amazing" he whispers, hand stroking your cheek as he lies beside you now. "so are you" you whisper back, placing your much smaller hand on top of his, staring into his amber eyes. "be my mate?" he asks, other hand resting on your stomach. "yes, of course yes" you smile, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close. he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as well, his strong arms keeping you as close as possible. "all we need is tsaheylu" he mumbles, smirk plastered on his face. "are you saying you want a round two?" you giggle, kissing along his jaw. "maybe..."

536 notes · View notes

btsmosphere · 16 days

Text

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜💜

masterlist | next>

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities @parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack @oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

Let me know in a comment or ask if you would like to join the taglist🥰

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook mafia #jungkook scenario #bts mafia au #jungkook supervillain #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #bts series #jungkook series #superhero bts #supervillain bts

224 notes · View notes