#Caught one the other day not directed at me but might as well been about “useless paddock ornaments” 🙄

[black-thoroughbred]

got some comment about Bambi not being good with clipping this time because she "hasn't been handled much lately"(or something along those lines) 🙄 no it's just last time she was forced into it and just because she didn't have a massive reaction doesn't mean she was ok with it. Now I'm actually taking my time and giving her a chance to tell me when she is uncomfortable, she's showing me that she's definitely not cool with it actually. So I will put in the time and effort(and lots of treats) to make sure she is actually comfortable, I don't care if it takes weeks.

[bakubunny]

@dcsiremc you started this with your lil, “better run along, daddy’s waiting,” nonsense, so eat up.

tw: jealous!izuku, f!reader, aged up characters, daddy as title, mild degradation, mild breath play, exhibition, reader is called puppy, katsuki loves to instigate bs

your cheeks grew hot the moment katsuki’s hand lightly rested on your shoulder unnecessarily. he was hovering over you, answering a question you had about a case file. izuku cleared his throat from across the work room. you immediately pulled away from katsuki, who was looking back at izuku with a smug grin, unbeknownst to you. he watched as a vein bulged in izuku’s neck.

fuck, this is too easy, he thought. katuski knew how possessive izuku was and how easily he got jealous, especially when it came to you. he’d been doing this kind of shit all day - standing a little too close, speaking a little too softly so you’d have to lean in, taking one too many glances at your body when you weren’t looking - in an effort to set izuku off for the hell of it.

the final straw was when it was just the three of you in the agency. you were in front of the microwave. katsuki walked over and brushed his hand on the small of your back, hovering there as you froze while he reached around you to grab a coffee mug. you heard a pencil snap and a chair roll against the floor as izuku stood up.

“need something, kacchan?” tension laced his tone of voice.

katsuki looked at him in bewilderment. “no? just wanted a cup,” he said, holding the only other all might mug in the office in his hand.

you kept your head down as izuku walked over.

“then why the fuck are you touching my girl again?” izuku spat. he shoved katsuki’s shoulder.

“izu, stop-”

“shut the fuck up, brat, i’m dealing with you next,” he said.

katsuki bit back a grin. “tch. dunno what’s gotten into you but you need to chill.” izuku got in his face.

“keep your hands and your eyes to yourself, and i will. and you,” he said, turning your direction. izuku grabbed your bicep. “you just gonna let him do that when you know good and well who owns you? hmm?”

you froze, unsure of how he expected you to respond.

“answer me, pup,” he said quietly, leaning in to look you in the eyes.

katsuki’s grin broke and he snorted. your body grew hot.

“n-no, sir,” you whispered.

you flinched when his grip tightened.

“then what should you do?” his voice was as soft as he could manage, but the look on katsuki’s face told you he heard izuku’s every word.

“go to you.”

“that’s right,” izuku said.

izuku dragged you to the table where katsuki now sat with a plate of food for his lunch break. he took a fistful of your hair and pulled hard.

“ow! what are you doing?”

“reminding you of what’s mine. bend over. now.” he pressed your face into the table in front of the smug, blonde hero.

“are you crazy?” you asked. heat rushed to your core as izuku pinned one arm behind your back and grabbed the other to hold both of your hands tightly in one of his.

“you wanna play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. you know daddy doesn’t like to share,” he said. he lifted your skirt and ran his fingers along your panties, already more damp than you’d wanted to admit.

“izuk-”

your breath caught as a thick finger slipped into your cunt. his skilled hand rubbed into your spongy sweet spot in a way that made you flutter around him, closing your eyes and biting back a whine. you tried to turn your face away from the grinning man you knew was staring down at you.

“no, no, don’t be shy,” izuku said. “you wanna be a brat and whore yourself out right in front of me, you’re gonna let kacchan see your pretty face when i make you cry.”

a whimper slipped off your lips. izuku pushed a second finger into you. he pumped harder and faster, the messy sound audible as you moaned.

“yeah, that’s what i fucking thought.” he leaned into your ear. “you’re just a dumb puppy, need to be put in your place. too stupid to know any better without my help.”

your cheeks burned as katsuki snickered, seeming unphased by what he was doing.

“open.”

izuku shoved slick covered fingers into your mouth to clean off before pulling your panties down. he made quick work of unbuckling his belt and freeing his heavy cock. you cried out when he pushed into your cunt with a single thrust, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from overwhelming girth as he set a hard pace. the breath was knocked out of your lungs as he fucked you, a cold sweat forming on your skin as your body tried to adjust.

“izu, fuc- ah! it h-hurts,” you whined.

izuku’s hips slapped harder and faster into yours. “stop bitching, i know you can take it. take it like a good girl. take my fucking cock.”

the lump in your throat burned from the mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure rapidly overtaking your body. tears fell down your cheeks when a hard smack hit your ass and you groaned. katsuki looked down at you with a sickening grin as he ate.

“tch. dinner and a show. at least you’re good for somethin’,” he said.

izuku grunted. he let go of your arms and moved a hand to grip your hip. his free arm worked its way under and around your neck as his bicep flexed. your eyes rolled with his thrust at a slightly different angle, dragging his cock head along your sweet spot at a blinding pace.

“hear that? even kacchan knows where you belong,” izuku said, his warm breath fanning your skin.

you made a pitiful attempt at pulling on izuku’s tightening arm, the size of him and the strength of his hold only making the sound of your wet cunt sloppy and lewd as you clenched hard around his cock. lightheadedness trickled in as gurgling moans added to the disgusting slew of humiliating noises your body made.

“‘zuku-”

“nuh uh, baby. who owns this pussy? who do you belong to?” he growled.

a shudder rolled down your back. you gasped as his grip loosened slightly. “daddyy-”

“say it again.” izuku’s lips grazed your ear.

“d-daddy, fuck, daddy,” you whined, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth.

his fingers dug into your hip hard enough to bruise.

“that’s it, puppy. better keep it up til you fucking cum. wanna hear you tell me that when you cum for me,” he said.

with your head spinning, the coil in your belly felt ready to snap as you nearly came undone. izuku’s balls clapped against your clit, sparks of tingling pleasure in your body as he moved, fucking you hard and deep. the sound of your slurred, pathetic voice crying out over and over as your legs shook made him groan.

“gonna make - shit - make me cum, fuck,” izuku said. c’mon, i know you’re close. be a good fuck toy and cum on my cock.”

“daddy, ah-”

you moaned and trembled when your orgasm came crashing down in white hot pleasure as you pushed your hips into his thrusts. izuku fucked you through it as his own hit, filling you with his hot cum with a growl.

“fuck, that’s it, milk my cock dry…. s’ a good girl….”

izuku groaned again before kissing your head as you came down from bliss. you could already feel wet heat trickling down your thighs. katsuki’s grin told you he was never going to let you live this down.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

one month later

you stood at katsuki’s desk, clarifying something about his recently submitted case file, feeling the weight of izuku’s eyes on you as he answered you. katsuki glanced in his direction and smirked.

“better run along. daddy’s waiting.”

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

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[hopelesslyromanticshark]

HII!! I'm quite new to making requests, but I was wondering if I could ask for some headcanons: Percy Jackson x Aphrodite!Reader (with a sunshine personality, if that’s okay!). Please and thank you! 💞 I hope it's not too much to ask for. Also, remember to stay hydrated and healthy! And, Take your time!💗

(Quick side note: I made this pink because

I thought it looked cuter!<3 oh and, I’m not sure if you do this but if you’d like to pick like an emoji for me to use as a sign off. Then, that would be quite nice! Because I think I’ll be requesting from you quite often💞)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader hcs warning: i don't think anything?? fluff ig watch out yall dangerous stuff might make you fall in love 😬😬 author's note: hihi ! this is my first time doing headcannons as well as writing for percy. tbh, i was a little nervous because new things scare me and i don't want to disappoint but i hope you like it!! also i shall dub you...🎀 anon, bc of all the pink 😋😋

okay, mr. loverboy and ms. lovergirl are in the house yall

i know he's head over heels for you the moment he sees you, leading around some new campers, excitedly clapping your hands as to get them excited too. It works, earning a few smiles

he was so distracted, annabeth managed to get the jump on him in the middle of their training, sending the son of poseidon sprawling on the hard dirt of the arena

"get your head in the game, jackson."

"it is!"

"no, i can literally see your eyes turning into hearts right now-"

"shut up!! she might hear you!!"

he spent days plotting, trying to figure out the best way to approach the bubbly daughter of aphrodite.

he didn't want to just come across as like all the other guys who only talked to them because of their beauty. from what percy's seen, you were one of the kindest and lovely people he's known.

one day he was laying on the dock, his foot passively swinging through the water and he muttered stupid pick-up lines or other introductions, all of them equally as terrible.

"mind if i join you?" a voice questioned before a shadow blocked his view of the sun, which he could vaguely make out to be the girl he'd just been lovesickenly talking about.

"y-yes, yeah, of course!" he sputtered out, jumping up and squeezing over, making space for her. she giggled at him, taking a seat with a sideways glance in his direction.

percy felt like he was evaporating

"i like the water, the seafoam especially. because…well, you know," the girl mused, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

"yeah, that's how your mom was born, right?" percy questioned though he knew the answer, he just didn't want her to leave quite yet as he was desperately trying to remember one of the pick-up lines he'd been thinking about. but with the girl around, the only thing running through his head was her.

"born is a loose term, but yes. it's comforting…feels like home," she replied, turning her head to percy and offering him a dazzling smile that he'd pay all the money in the world to see again.

"i know how that feels, trust me," he murmured back before tilting his head at her, a smirk slowly growing on his lips, "where would you go right now if you could go anywhere?"

"easy. there's this target near chicago that always has my favorite lip gloss," the girl replied like it was the most normal answer.

"what?!" percy questioned through his laugh which then sent the pair down a rabbit hole of questions and rebuttals, neither of them noticing how much time had passed until the sun was nearly completely hidden from view, only the last few rays shooting out from behind the mountains.

"Oh, ha, look at how the time fly," the girl muttered, laughing as her eyes got caught on the dying sun

"must've been having fun then," percy replied with a blinding smile and she laughed, shaking her head at the boy.

there was a pause, the two just staring at each other.

then soft movements from the daughter of aphrodite, who gently cupped his face with one hand before pressing a lip gloss coated kiss to his cheek.

"i was definitely having fun. you're fun, jackson, we should hang out some time," she whispered near his ear before moving to stand up, leaving the boy as still as a statue. she walked away, with a few giggly glances over her shoulder.

once he was sure she was gone, percy shot up and cheered, pumping his fists and jumping about all over the dock until he caught his foot and fell in.

and yet, he couldn't seem to loose his smile, even coated in seaweed and muck from the lake.

she always had the effect on him, his bubbly lovergirl.

author's note cont. : anyways, i present ya'll with this. i'm trying to work through all my new requests rn, which is very exciting bc i've never had those before, but do not be afraid to request away still!! anyways, hope you enjoyed, anon!!

[sailortongue]

You Callin' Me a Liar?

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie tells the boys that he has a girlfriend, but they don't believe him. eddie vows to make them eat their words

wc: 2.5k

part 2

——————

“No can do, boys. I’m driving my girlfriend home today.” The freshmen had barely gotten the question out when Eddie shot them down.

“Girlfriend?!” exclaimed Dustin. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?!” To say he was shocked was an understatement. His eyebrows shot all the way up to his hairline and his jaw might as well have been on the floor.

“Dude, if you don’t want to drive us then just say that,” said Mike.

Eddie looked at the boy incredulously. “You callin me a liar, Wheeler?”

“I mean, not in those words…” Mike quickly looked down, uncomfortable with the glare that Eddie was directing at him. The dungeon master was usually pretty chill, but god he could be intimidating.

Eddie scowled before staring at the other two boys, “And what about you two? You don’t believe me either?” The look on Dustin’s face was answer enough, as was Lucas’ awkward smile. “Just you three wait. I have the most gorgeous girl in Hawkins High and I’m gonna prove it.”

“Yeah, right,” started Mike before looking over at Dustin and Lucas. “Next thing we know he’ll be telling us his ‘girlfriend’ is a cheerleader, too.”

“As a matter of fact, she is,” huffed Eddie. If he was being honest with himself, it kind of stung how none of the boys believed he was capable of being in a relationship.

“Whatever you say, Eddie,” said Dustin placatingly, obviously still believing Eddie to be lying so he didn’t have to drive them home.

“Y’know what, I’m gonna bring her to Hellfire this week and all of you will eat your words.”

——————

Hellfire wasn’t for another two days and Eddie was becoming more and more short tempered at constantly being the butt of the joke at the table. Not a single one of his friends believed him. This is what he gets for not wanting the relationship to be public. He’d been so worried about how the rest of the squad would treat you if they knew, but he didn’t even consider how his friends would react, especially without proof.

“So, Eddie, which one is it? It can’t be Chrissy since she’s dating Jason, and Kelly is with that Daniel guy. Is it Lisa?” teased Gareth. After that, the rest of the guys started taking turns poking fun at him, trying to guess the cheerleader that Eddie was supposedly dating.

“No.”

“Jennifer?”

“No.”

“Beth?”

“No.”

“Yn?”

Your name obviously caught Eddie’s attention, the rest of the table erupting into a cacophony of shouts and laughter that couldn't be distinguished from one another.

Jeff’s voice cut through the noise, still laughing, “Dude, there’s no way you got a girl like Yn Y/l/n to go out with you. She’s, like, the golden girl of Hawkins High. It’s been a fun joke, but I can’t even entertain it anymore.” His broad smile was a harsh contrast to his words. Jeff didn’t realize it, but Eddie was both offended and hurt by his words. 

You were at your usual table with the rest of the squad when you saw your beloved boyfriend storm out of the cafeteria. A frown tugged at your lips, wondering what had upset him so much. You waited a few minutes before excusing yourself from the conversation to go after Eddie, knowing exactly where you would find him.

He was already at the picnic table when you arrived. He had his head in his hands and his back to you. “Eddie?” you called out. He lifted his head and turned to you. “Yeah?” he croaked.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You approached the table and sat next to him, pulling his head into your lap. He sighed, “It’s the guys. They think I’m lying about you.” He was full on pouting now. You knew he was upset but damn he was cute when he did that.

You gazed down at him and smiled, running your fingers through his hair, “So what? At the end of the day I’m still your girlfriend, whether they believe it or not.” Your words finally got a smile back on his face as he sat up and pulled you next to him, pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss before pulling back. “Thanks, sweetheart. You still comin’ to Hellfire this week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you said with a cheeky grin. “Can’t let the party think their dungeon master is a liar, now can I?”

“Oh, but of course not. My honor will be restored and the princess of Hellfire will put her subjects in their place.”

“Princess of Hellfire? Eddie, they’ve never even met me,” you chuckled, Eddie joining you. His theatrics had always been a source of laughter for you and oh how Eddie loved the sound. When the laughter died down the two of you were left in a comfortable silence until Eddie checked his watch and hissed. “What is it?” you asked.

“Lunch ended 10 minutes ago.”

——————

One day to the Hellfire meeting and the club was still not dropping the subject. The three freshmen had finally told the others that Eddie planned to bring you this week, and they were determined to hold him to it. Not that he had any intention of backing out.

“So, Eddie, why don’t you tell us about her? Since y’all are dating you should know all about her, right?” Lucas was being a bitch and the whole table knew it was intentional. He was trying to get under Eddie’s skin and it was working. “So, how did you meet?”

Eddie remained silent, opting to ignore the nosy question in favor of eating his lunch.

“Oh, c’mon, man. Just answer the question,” chimed Gareth.

Eddie huffed, practically throwing his fork onto his plate. “We met at a music store. She was looking for some Ozzy and I helped her out. Got to talking about music and we hit it off.  Turns out we listen to a lot of the same stuff.”

“You really expect us to believe a prep listens to the same kind of music you do? You sure you didn’t dream this?” said Lucas skeptically, his expression one of total disbelief. The rest of the guys murmured in agreement.

“First Wheeler and now you’re callin’ me a liar, too?”

“Look, man, no one’s calling you a liar right now,” objected Dustin. “ We’re gonna wait to see if she shows up to Hellfire.” He glanced around the table at each of the club members, “Right, guys?” There was a chorus of half-hearted acceptance. Not wanting to go too far and piss off Eddie even more, the subject switched over to complaining about classes and teachers and annoying classmates.

——————

Today was the day. You were finally going to join Eddie in one of his Hellfire meetings. You were nervous about making a good impression. You knew how important the group was to him and you were terrified that they wouldn’t like you. He’d nearly laughed at your concern when you brought it up during one of his late night visits, but was quick to reassure you when he realized you were serious.

“Sweetheart, you are the most amazing person I know. You’re sweet and talented and you have great taste in music,” he comforted, voice taking on an airy quality as he leaned in closer to you, lips brushing but not quite connecting. “And we can’t forget how you look in that cheer uniform, especially that little skirt.” He’d laughed against your lips before finally melding his lips to yours. The lazy kiss quickly turned heated as he dragged his hand down your side to grip your hips, pulling you onto his lap. He withdrew to leave a trail of kisses down the column of your throat before finding the spot he was looking for; the spot that made you gasp out his name so prettily. 

He brought his sinful mouth up to your ear, biting and sucking all the way back up your neck and nipping your earlobe before whispering, “You couldn’t be any more perfect unless you were God himself.” He placed one more chaste kiss against your lips before resting his forehead on yours. “You have nothing to worry about, I promise.” That night, you fell asleep with Eddie’s arms wrapped around you. He was gone when you woke up, of course. If either of your parents saw you sleeping with a boy in your bed, they would have blown a fuse.

The school day was dragging and your nerves were making it worse. Despite Eddie’s reassurance, you still had your doubts. By the time lunch rolled around you were practically shaking with anxiety, so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Chrissy calling your name.

“Yn!” she said loudly, finally gaining your attention.

Your head jerked up in her direction, “Yeah?”

Chrissy laughed at your distractedness, “Just wanted to let you know we’re practicing a new routine today. What’s got you so distracted?” You didn’t answer and she gasped dramatically. She leaned over the table and whispered conspiratorially “Is it a boy?!” You blanched. “I knew it!” she squealed, delighted that her best friend was finally showing interest in someone. “You have to tell me all about him!”

“Okok, but not here.” Eddie had been adamant about being hush hush with your relationship. He was so worried that you would be ridiculed just for dating him, and he didn’t want to see you go through the same torment he did. But Chrissy was your closest friend and there was no doubt in your mind that she would be over the moon for you as well as keep your secret. You got up from the table, Chrissy following suit, and led her to the girl’s locker room in the gym, which was thankfully empty.

Chrissy was immediately bombarding you with questions, too excited to wait for you to answer before asking another one. “So, what’s his name? What’s he like? Oh! Is he on the basketball team? I could get Jason to help set you up!”

You waved your hands in front of you, quickly denying her offer. “He’s not on the basketball team. He’s not on any team, actually.”

“No? Well, who is it then? C’mon, the suspense is killing me! Best friends are supposed to know everything, and you’ve been holding out on me!”

“Alright!” you wheezed out in between your laughter. “It’s Eddie…”

“Eddie Munson?” she said, stunned. You nodded in affirmation. She seemed to roll the idea around in her head before seemingly making up her mind, exclaiming, “You two would be so cute together! Have you talked to him?”

“Chrissy, we’re already dating,” you informed flatly.

“Oh my God, Yn, how could you not tell me?!” she whined. “You have to tell me everything, now.” She crossed her arms and tried to school her face into as stern an expression as she could.

“We met at a music store. I was looking for an Ozzy Osbourne cassette but I couldn't find one. Eddie was there and helped me out. We talked for a while about music and it just kinda went from there.”

“Aw, that’s so cute! We should totally do a double date!”

You looked at her like she had grown a second head. “A double date? With Jason and Eddie?” It dawned on Chrissy that there was a serious flaw in her plan: your respective boyfriends hated each other.

She let out a loud laugh and looked at you, smiling. “Wouldn’t that be something? Pretty far fetched, huh?”

“Yeah, no kidding. They’d be at each other’s throats the whole time.”

You and Chrissy spent the remainder of lunch talking in the locker room and telling her all about your plans with Eddie later. It was relieving to finally be able to tell her about him.

Meanwhile, Eddie was bragging up a storm at his lunch table. He couldn’t wait for the guys to meet you and especially couldn't wait to prove them wrong.

“Eddie, if you say one more word about her, you’re gonna be one party member short tonight, whether she’s coming or not,” warned Lucas. Eddie held his hands up in surrender.

“I still don’t think there’s any possible way you got with a girl like Yn,” said Jeff around a mouthful of food.

“Just you wait until tonight. You’ll all eat your words.”

——————

Hellfire had started 30 minutes ago and you were still nowhere to be seen. The guys were throwing him pitiful glances and whispering amongst themselves. They still hadn’t started the session, and it was clear that Eddie was on pins and needles waiting for your arrival.

Dustin was the first of the boys to give him the benefit of the doubt, “Hey, man, maybe she’s just running late? The cheerleaders practice after school, so she’s probably still in the gym.”

The others weren’t convinced, but it was enough to satisfy Eddie, who was no stranger to how hard you worked for the squad. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. So, what do you say, gentlemen? Ready to fight some monsters?”

——————

That new cheer routine turned out to be much harder than anyone was anticipating, and practice ran for much longer than it typically did. You were supposed to be at Hellfire 45 minutes ago. You didn’t bother to change out of your cheer uniform, rushing out of the gym doors, hoping that yelling bye on the way out was good enough. You ran through the corridors to the drama room, barging in without so much as knocking. “Eddie, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to be late but cheer practice ran overtime-”

“See, Eddie, I was right! Cheer practice!” interrupted a boy who could be no older than maybe 15 or 16. Eddie wasted no time introducing you, “Guys, I want you to meet my lovely girlfriend, Yn. Yn, this is the sorry bunch of freaks I play DnD with every week.”

You gave a small wave to the group. “Sorry I didn’t knock. Was in a bit of a rush,” you chuckled awkwardly, growing increasingly embarrassed by the open-mouthed stares of the boys. They recovered quickly when Eddie cleared his throat a little too aggressively to be genuine. Within seconds the room was filled with questions being directed at both you and Eddie, not that Eddie was answering any of them. He was too busy admiring you in your uniform.

He continued to ignore his club in favor of looking at you. When you finally turned your gaze back to him, he pushed his chair away from the table, an obvious indication of what he wanted. Without any hesitation, you made your way over and plopped yourself into your boyfriend’s lap, not caring about the club still being present. Eddie instantly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind to secure you as he nuzzled his face in your neck. You giggled at his actions before addressing the other boys, “I think you all owe Eddie an apology.”

[radio-writes]

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?" 

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction. 

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom." 

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room. 

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly. 

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way. 

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!" 

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips. 

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station. 

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife. 

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second. 

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more. 

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley. 

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?" 

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really. 

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight. 

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies. 

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two. 

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved. 

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face. 

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless. 

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no. 

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose. 

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin. 

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him. 

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead. 

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you. 

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were. 

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone. 

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature. 

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice 

[milla-frenchy]

Wolf like me

2k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: you meet someone who finally fills the void in you Warnings: 18+ mdni. Darkish. rough sex, oral (m/f), facial, self abandonment, toxic relationship, possessiveness, jealousy, spitting, biting, manhandling, unprotected piv, rimming, ass play, anal, creampie, reader is looking for pain, Joel is not particularly nice and not caring either. No age specified. a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you for beta-ing me, and hearing me whine 😭💕🫶 There are Joels that are particularly physically powerful, brutal, and sexually aggressive. I call them “beast!Joel” 😍🥵 Here they are: Carnal @pascalsbby | Daddy Joel & A day in the filth @toxicanonymity | Lost in the dark @iamasaddie. Thank you for these awesome fics 🙏❤️ Here’s mine :) The title is from Wolf like me by TV on the radio

ao3 | masterlist | part 2

Joel was pretty well known at the QZ. He had the reputation of a distant man, not meddling in other people's affairs and hating people meddling in his own. He carried out the worst tasks, those that paid the most. It was impossible to know what shenanigans he was getting into with Tess, the woman he was often seen with. Impossible to know why he sometimes met FEDRA soldiers on the sidelines, but without really hiding it, as if he knew that no one would dare bother him.

You worked for Robert and you knew that his relationship with Joel was tense. So for some time now, when Robert needed something from Joel, he went through you. Every time you met him, Joel lived up to his reputation. He grumbled more than spoke, he was not very verbose, he did not bother with manners and was barely polite. He used to roll his eyes an embarrassing number of times at you, like you were the stupidest person in the world. However, he didn't impress you, and one day, you caught a grin when you responded to him in a biting tone.

That’s probably how you ended up on your knees in front of him one evening, his cock in your mouth and his fist clenched in your hair. His massive hand on the back of your head holding you exactly how he wanted, while he was fucking your throat without worrying about the tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

He let go of you, and ordered you to get on the bed, “cheek against the pillow and ass in the air.” 

You looked up at him, without immediately obeying, and he pointed to the bed with his chin. You got up and settled in, unable to resist his directive tone. When he knelt behind you, his fat cock in his hand, ready to push it into your core, you freed yourself from his hand, asking him to wait.

“Wait for what exactly, little girl?”

In someone else's mouth, this pet name might have been cute. Or kind. But in his, you felt like a helpless little thing in the hands of a man much more powerful than you.

“Wait until I’m prepared,” you whispered.

“Do you think I’m gonna make love to you, baby girl?”

He tilted his head to the side, waiting for your response which didn't come.

“Cause I don’t make love. I fuck hard. So either you take my fuckin’ cock the way I wanna give it to you, or you get the fuck outta here.”

You let him fuck you the way he wanted, your teeth digging into the flesh of your hand to keep you from screaming, while his fingers were firmly buried in the flesh of your hips. He pulled out just before he came, grabbing your arm for you to follow him to the side of the bed. His feet planted on the ground, he jerked himself into his clenched fist until spurts of cum covered your face.

Stunned by his animality, you didn't move before he pushed you down onto the floor, and he plunged into you, his tongue dipping into your aching pussy. He ate you as he had fucked you just before: like a hungry beast devouring its wounded prey. His fingers were everywhere, on your clit, in your pussy and in your ass. Yours were buried in his curls, clawing at his scalp, making him grunt against your folds until you came, exhausted, and finally relaxed your muscles that had been contracting until then, under the assaults he had inflicted on you.

Of course, he didn't walk you home. He didn’t even say a word to you, to be honest. He barely watched you wipe away the cum that was still on your cheeks.

You continued to meet Joel on Robert's behalf, and you returned to his apartment several times.

Every time he fucked you, you felt like you were being tossed around in dark waters, the movement of which seemed strangely familiar to you. And above all, the feeling gave you the confirmation that you were still alive.

Joel wanted to own, to take. And you wanted to be owned, creating a perfect balance between you. You were giving him everything he wanted. Your body was always adapting to his, whatever hole he thrusted into. He probably licked and smelled every inch of your skin. Left bite marks on your body, as if his cock deep inside you wasn't enough, as if he needed to sink his teeth into your skin. Needed to show everyone that you were his. That you had been claimed. “I want you to use my body whenever and however you want”, you told him once. And he did. Days after days.

As soon as you closed the door to his apartment behind you, you felt that the atmosphere was heavier than usual. He was sitting near the dining room table, facing the front door, and you.

“Who was it?”, he asked, in an annoyed voice, so low you barely heard him, while his fist was clenched on the table.

"Who are you talking about?"

“That boy, with you near the guardhouse this afternoon.” He spat out the sentence, his jaw clenched, the sound of his voice barely reaching your ears.

“He’s one of Robert’s guys, he’s not a boy,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. He stood up suddenly and slammed you against the wall with surprising agility for a man of his build. His hand pressed against your throat, his face lowered towards you, you only saw his dark eyes.

“You let him fuck you?” he growled, tightening his grip on your throat.

“No, damn, Joel…”, you whispered.

He released his grip slightly and breathed down your neck, then moved up to your ear, as if to make sure that he would only smell your scent on you.

“Mine,” he murmured, his nose in your hair, his hand sliding from your throat to one of your breasts which he grabbed.

“Yours”, you breathed in his ear, your hand clinging to his bicep.

“I’m gonna be brutal, baby doll.”

“I know.”

He unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his hard cock, before grabbing your thighs and lifting you off the ground. He pushed aside the panties under your dress, and positioned his tip at your entrance. He looked at you, daring you with his gaze to tell him to wait. But it’s been a long time now since you asked him to be prepared. You only wanted to feel him more. Always more. And the faster he plunged into you, the more intoxicating the sensation was.

He sank in, his gaze boring into yours as his cock split your pussy. In one push he bottomed out. He pulled back almost all the way and thrusted in again, after tilting his pelvis so that you impaled yourself as deep as possible on his shaft. Breathless, you grabbed his shoulders to try to ease the way you were taking his cock. But he placed his arm against your back and tightened his hand on the back of your neck, trapping you in his embrace. He pounded you against the wall, and you were whimpering at each stroke of his cock.

“You’re mine”, he said again, thrusting in. “You belong to me, only my cock can fuck this cunt. You hear me, little girl?”

“Fuck… Yes Joel! Just you.”

“Not only your cunt. Everything. I want only my smell on you.”

He grabbed your chin in his hand, looking at you questioningly. You nodded and said “only you.”

“Good girl. Come here.”

He released you and grabbed your arm, squeezing it way too tightly with his large hand, before throwing you onto the bed. He was standing in front of you, his pants just under his balls, still covering his thick thighs. His hand was tight on his cock, glistening with your wetness. You could see the vein in his neck pulsing.

He spat into his palm before jerking off harshly while watching you.

“Joel”, you whimpered. “Please I want-”

“You’ll have that cock when I’ll give it to you”, he cut you off.

“Please Joel, use me”, you whined again.

“Jesus, you need my cock that bad? Get on all fours, then. And take off your clothes.”

You undressed and watched him remove his clothes, before waiting for him on your hands and knees. The bed sank under his weight as he knelt behind you. He ran his hands from your neck to the small of your back. He reveled in your eagerness, seeing your ass pushed back towards him. You wanted him to use you, the way he wanted. He placed his cock at your entrance, and thrusted in slowly. So slowly that it was almost more painful than when he would suddenly stick it in you. Like a bandage that you gently remove instead of ripping it off all at once. You felt your pussy spread painfully to let his cock sink in. You felt his skin warming you up from the inside. He kept thrusting, and you realized that you had been holding your breath since he dove in you. You breathed deeply, keeping yourself from moving backwards and impaling yourself on his cock in one blow. You knew he wanted to control the pace, and you wanted him to act that way. You wanted to be in pain, to feel things as intensely as possible, and for as long as possible.

You felt so fragile and vulnerable, with his massive hands on you and his cock piercing you. And at the same time, you had never felt so safe. Nothing could happen to you, with him.

Finally his cock bottomed out and you gasped. He pulled back and thrusted in with a brutal move this time, as you reflexively leaned forward. He tightened his embrace, threatening “don’t you dare. You’re gonna take my cock, as I want you to take it.” You bit your lip and nodded.

You heard him spit and you shivered as you felt his saliva reach your ass, his thumb immediately coming up to push it into your ring. You heard him grunt behind your back, guessing his contemplation between keeping fucking your pussy or claiming your ass. With a snort, he pulled out, dipping his tongue against your ass, lapping flat. You heard him jerking off into his fist and part of you hoped to see him desperate to the point of cumming against the sheets without having time to fuck you. But his primal instinct for possession was the strongest, and he positioned himself against your ring once he felt you would be able to take it.

He pushed, and you waited quietly, controlling your breath, until the tip was fully in.

“Oh fuck, Joel…”

“Always ready to take it in your ass, right?”

“I…fuck. Yeah. I can always take it.”

“Good girl”, he praised, as he thrusted in suddenly, the brutality of his action clashing with the sound of his voice. You didn't have time to say a word, he was already pulling back before burying himself again, showing you once more that you were his, pinching your hips, and you knew that the morning after your skin there would be blue.

“Turn around, I want to see your face while I fuck your ass,” he said, pulling back and manhandling you to turn around.

You lay on your back, and he grabbed the back of your knees to bring them closer to your shoulders before thrusting in. The position made the penetration so deep that you thought he was actually going to tear you in half. His growls were more animalistic than human and you lost yourself in their sounds. 

“Look”, he said. “Look at my cock, ruining your ass.”

He pulled his torso away from yours and you looked down, where your bodies were one.

“Fuck, baby doll. Look. You’re taking it so good.”

“Joel... Let off all your steam. Use me for that.”

“Shit you’re…you never get enough of that cock.”

He fucked you, probably harder than ever, and you couldn't feel your body anymore.

“Lose yourself in me”, he told you, looking at you as if he was reading you. “I’m here for it”, he added. You came, hearing him, your clit rubbing against his lower stomach.

Burying in your ass, he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them above your head, placing his mouth against your armpit, licking away the beads of sweat hidden there and growling against your skin.

“Jo…fuck. Joel.”

“Mmmm?”, he growled.

“The sounds you make, when you fuck me. I…- fuck.. I feel so full - …I love these sounds.”

For the first time, you thought you saw a loss of control in him, and you tried to catch his gaze. When he froze inside you and shot the hot spurts of cum into your ass, all you could think about was the dark waves you were floating in, and you came a second time on his cock.

You got dressed and as you were leaving he grabbed you, holding you against him like no one had ever done before. He held you so tight that it was painful, but you would have let him crack one of your ribs if it would allow you to continue this embrace. When he released you, you tried to meet his gaze again, but he had already turned away from you.

When you got back to your apartment, you knew you were screwed. Fucking with him, letting him use you in any possible way, was no longer enough.

Part 2

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

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[xvysarene]

𝕌𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you.” Words: ~2.5k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Antagonist MC, Mentions of wounds [ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

His childhood friend exuded energy just as vibrant as her Anhausen class Evol, captivating those around her with her bubbly demeanor.

However, beneath the cheerful façade lay a calculated use of charm, a trait you couldn't help but notice, especially in her interactions with Zayne.

As a senior hunter, your responsibilities included supervising new recruits, and you discerned her manipulative tendencies over time.

"Just because you've seen me at my weakest, you’re not entitled to pass judgment on those dear to me. It proves how I've known her longer and better, as she would never stoop so low as to speak ill of you. I don’t need you babysitting me."

Quick to defend his adored friend and seemingly caught up in emotion, he voiced those unfavorable words your way.

You knew Zayne was a direct person, but being on the receiving end of those words hurt. Especially as you later realized that you harbored feelings towards the cold doctor, feelings that had unknowingly woven into what you had always believed to be a purely platonic friendship between the two of you.

“—and you’re here because?”

His voice jolted you out of your reverie.

Somehow, standing in the exact spot where your last conversation occurred, resulting in months of silence between the two of you, had clouded your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on the present moment. “Greyson and Yvonne have been trying to get in touch with you.”

When news about Dr. Zayne taking recuperative leave had spread like wildfire throughout the UNICORNS, you had considered reaching out to him. 

Your fingers had hovered over the phone, composing and deleting messages repeatedly.

In the end, you completely abandoned the notion altogether when you heard his childhood friend’s not-so-subtly mentioning her plan to visit and cook for him while chatting with the short-haired girl from the Data Analysis sector.

“I’m fine,” he managed to huff out after a while.

Taking a swift glance at the unexpected mess on his kitchen counters—scattered papers and remnants of food packaging—you challenged him. "I thought we had moved beyond the superficial 'I'm fine' responses when asking about each other's well-being."

Zayne didn’t reply and you noted that he had absentmindedly leaned his long legs against the kitchen counter as if seeking support from it.

“You, the Chief Cardiac Surgeon of Akso Hospital, someone who enjoys his lack of free time, couldn't possibly have felt 'just fine' after being placed on recuperative leave."

“I wasn't aware that you still kept tabs on my whatabouts," he retorted, eyes slightly gleaming competitively. However, they lacked the usual spark; instead, they hinted at tiredness and something indefinable that looked familiar but you couldn't quite pinpoint.

“I understand that your friend has probably visited you, but my great buddies insisted I come and check on you. They didn’t want to pester, but after two days of no answer, they are beginning to worry.” You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender. “Though if I’m not welcome, I’ll leave you be.”

As you moved past him towards the front door, you felt yourself emotionally drained from the brief exchange.

“Why you, specifically?” his whisper caused you to stop in your tracks.

“They know we are—” you stopped yourself, “used to be each other’s confidant. They thought you might be willing to speak to me if not to them.”

He chuckled dryly. “Used to…”

His muttered words compelled you to turn. Your hunter’s awareness noticed how he had subtly shifted, leaning more against the counter with one hand supporting his weight while his body slightly hunched forward, facing your retreating figure.

His body trembled with involuntary shivers, and the silver-framed glasses that had been perched on his nose earlier now lay discarded on top of the black granite.

“What’s wrong?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Your eyes instantly snapped to his arms, expecting to see the familiar bluish hue and the delicate, yet deadly patterns of ice crystals.

Instead, you saw fresh cuts on the back of his hand. Both of them.

A sound must have escaped your lips because Zayne quickly tugged at his light gray pajama sleeves, trying to cover his hands. He took a step back as he heard you stomping towards him.

Helplessly, he played a brief game of tug-of-war with you before yielding to your unexpected strength.

“What the hell,” you breathed out as you took the angry red marks marring his pale skin, making them stand out more. When you rolled up his sleeves further, you discovered fresh lacerations, a chilling reminder of the frost's icy grip.

You cupped his cheeks. It took his gaze a moment to gradually refocus on you, seemingly startled by the sudden skin contact. “Zayne, what happened?”

His lips were sealed shut. He began to resist, however, as you guided him towards his bedroom, but your hunter strength slightly won over his sluggish state.

Zayne watched you intensively check his wounds after you managed to get him to bed. They were more severe than the scratches you saw after you had cradled his frozen arms and succeeded in defrosting them using your Evol. It was when you found him beating himself up in regret for failing to save your partner during surgery.

As you stood up to fetch the medical supplies, his hand swiftly caught your forearm, surprising you with its speed. "You don’t have to take care of me," he insisted.

“Respectfully, Zayne,” you began, knowing he'd grimace at your next choice of words, “Fuck your pride and let me look after you.”

Seeing his familiar disapproving grimace at the brash word, you chuckled quietly to yourself. 

Your boldness and recklessness often clashed with his calm and collected nature, one that left people wondering how a friendship could blossom between two such opposites.

As the antiseptic scent filled the air and silence enveloped the room while you tended to his arms, memories flooded back to the griefful night when you had lost your partner.

He had treated your temporarily forgotten battle wounds after the frost had thawed from his arms.

“It’s not your fault,” Zayne had spoken softly as he cleaned your wounds.

Your breath stuttered, surprised by the doctor's attempt to console you. Many people regarded him as highly reserved due to the carefully crafted mask of indifference he wore.

"The other staff told me what happened. You couldn’t have known that he was bitten; a child Chlorostaga leaves a very small puncture, and it would only feel like an ant has bitten you. With adrenaline running high, he wouldn’t have felt a thing."

“He told me that his heart was racing unusually fast during the transport back,” you whispered, feeling the tears clouding your vision. “And I jokingly suggested he needed to do more exercise.

“He laughed at it until—�� you forced down the bile rising in your throat before being able to continue, “until he suddenly collapsed from cardiac arrest. We were only a few minutes out before arriving here to treat our wounds.”

Zayne continued gently dressing your gashes as you recounted the last moment with your partner. “His last memory was of happiness with you, feeling fulfilled knowing he had once again protected Linkon City from Wanderers... With his trusted partner."

The tears you had struggled to contain finally broke through, cascading down your cheeks in torrents. He held you close that day, offering comfort until every tear was dried.

From that moment, a bond seemed to form between both of you, drawing you closer from mere acquaintances to individuals you could trust with your deepest emotions. Only a few had ever witnessed each other's vulnerable state.

In the present, you noticed his breathing had calmed, and the hazel eyes that had been watching you carefully moments earlier had closed as you finished tending the last cut.

Gently smoothing out the crease between his brows, you couldn't help but wonder how troubled he must have been. “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you,” you whispered, afraid of him hearing your secret.

You had tried to shield yourself from future heartache after you slammed his front door the day he had spoken harshly. Yet, seeing him so vulnerable, your caring for him only deepened.

Listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, an unexpected exhaustion washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sleep claimed you swiftly, and it wasn't until you felt Zayne's gentle touch on your shoulder that you awoke.

“You’re going to strain the muscle in the back of your neck sleeping like that.”

Still groggy from the unplanned nap, you couldn’t protest as Zayne easily deposited you to the space he occupied earlier, as if you weighed nothing.

Your skin flushed hot feeling his fleeting touch behind your knees. Blinking, you met his gaze as he settled back beside your feet on the bed, already looking much better than before.

As the heat from his body permeated the wool blend of his pajama pants, you could feel it warming the tips of your toes. “Are you feeling any better?”

He nodded, casting a glance down at his arms adorned with scattered adhesive strips. Awkwardness filled the air as you both grappled with the ever-present unresolved tension.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled softly. You looked up, startled.

"I'm sorry," he repeated more clearly. His hazel eyes, appearing browner under the dim lighting, seeking yours. "For saying those hurtful words to you, for failing to accompany you on mourning day."

Your eyes widened, surprised that he even remembered about the day that had occurred months earlier.

When he didn’t appear at the cemetery of fallen hunters on mourning day, an annual tradition to honor your late partner whom he couldn't save, you learned just how much he cherished his childhood friend.

While he hadn't explicitly promised to join every year, he had always done so without fail. At that time, you couldn't help but feel disappointed when you discovered he had spent the day with his childhood friend instead.

And perhaps, an ugly thorn of jealousy had begun to bloom inside your heart.

"Greyson gave me an earful after he found out about our... conflict, and then he pieced together why I was absent that day. Why didn’t you remind me?”

You broke away from his gaze, not prepared for the sudden query. “You are under no obligation to accompany me, so there's nothing to apologise for."

"I absolutely have to apologise, for on the day you mourn for your late partner the most, I callously had fun with my friend."

And there it was, his childhood friend once again stealing the spotlight in your conversation. You felt the barriers you erected creeping back into place.

"It's getting dark outside, I should head home," you said, retracting your legs and hurriedly standing up.

However, a warm hand on your wrist carefully pulled you back down, knee bumping with yours.

"I was ensnared by my memory of her innocence from our childhood," he confessed, voice heavy with regret. "She envied the deep connection we share and after overhearing your conversation with Yvonne, purposefully suggested a day trip to our hometown that exact day. She exploited my weakness for her gain, knowing my fond memories of our past together."

Zayne tenderly unraveled each of your tightly clenched fingers, soothing the nail marks that had etched into your palm.

It was one of your bad habits, surfacing whenever anxiety and stress took hold. Ever the observant person that he was, it was something he was well aware of.

Your breath hitched as he wove his fingers with yours, larger palm easily covering your smaller one.

"I'm the one who foolishly let myself be blinded and stooped so low, wrongly accusing you when your intentions were nothing but good-hearted." He swiped a hand over his face in frustration. “People praised me for my good judgement, but I evidently failed to make the most important one."

“And so this happened?” you gestured towards his arms with your other unoccupied hand. “Punishing yourself because you felt guilty for your lapse in judgment?”

She had heard bits and pieces of what happened from Greyson. The Chief Psychologist in the hospital had noticed Zayne’s peculiar behaviour for weeks—moments of zoning out and evident emotional distress.

Not wanting to jeopardise his patient’s health, he agreed to take a leave until he felt mentally prepared to return to his responsibilities, which required a clear mind above all else.

"No, it's me losing myself because I've taken advantage of the only person who understands me; to the extent of hurting that one person who, despite knowing her for a shorter time, has selflessly always been there for me." He placed a kiss on the back of your hand. "And fearing I may have already lost her, as I come to realize the depth of my feelings for her."

You whipped your head to fully face him, face flushed at his confession. His gaze unwavering, trapping you with fierce affection.

“You don’t need to say anything—”

“Zayne—”

“I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for causing you pain—”

“Zayne, I—”

“And I would understand if you don’t want to do anything with me again after everything that’s happened—”

"Zayne!" You moved to cover his mouth and lost your balance in the process, tumbling together onto the bed.

Him beneath you.

As you stumbled, his hand found the curve of your hip, supporting you from falling on top of him. While his other arm remained thrown over him, fingers still intertwined with yours amidst the sudden movement.

You could see him trying to mask his discomfort, no doubt feeling some of the deeper slashes being tugged.

"God, you really need to shut up sometime," you blurted out, catching Zayne off guard with your abrupt remark following his heartfelt revelation.

This close, you could see his pupils dilating at your close proximity, almost consuming the green in his eyes.

With profound confidence and a fuzzy feeling spreading inside your heart, you eased his mind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The content smile painting his lips tugged at your heart. It was a genuine happiness that chipped away his usual cold demeanor. 

He squeezed your hip and slowly urged you to lay on top of him, a silent invitation to be closer. Strong arms circled around as you nestled your head against his throat, enveloping you in his scent—grounding, and slightly musky, like the scent of a forest after rainfall.

“I never want you to lose control of your Evol over me again,” you warned him, eyes closing as you felt his lips pressing on your forehead.

“I can’t promise, but—” he interjected before you could interrupt him. “I’ll work on myself for the better. It’s the least I can do for the one who holds the dearest place in my heart.”

When you opened your eyes again, you could finally pinpoint that familiar glint in his eyes, the one you noticed when you confronted him hours earlier in the living room; it was endearment.

As you lay down on his bed that night, fingers gently combing through his tousled midnight-black hair as he rested against your chest, it dawned on you that the glow of affection had been there all along, subtly shimmering in his eyes throughout the years whenever you were by his side.

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part twelve)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: none that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: you did not think I would forget about my baby, did you? Yes, I am in fact, not dead. And yes, I didn't write anything for this fic for a long time because I had no idea what to do 😌

Also, thank you for all the love that you gave this one. I am soo glad I was able to write something for you to love. 🥹❣️

This is the last part in this series. But if there is something you want to see in a possible epilogue, please send in an ask or comment.

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

A loud knock on the door startled Y/n, who was trying not to get caught reading the very... not child friendly stuff Nesta had given her. Cauldron knew what else Nesta had in store for Y/n.

The knock was a little too loud to be Azriel, because most of the time Y/n didn't even realise someone had knocked when Azriel knocked. So it was definitely most probably Cassian, who was probably excited about something.

She got up to open the door, wondering if she should hide the book she was reading in case Cassian decided to barge in. For Cassian, it wouldn't be anything new.

She felt like it was the biggest shock in her life when she found Azriel standing outside the door, his hand poised to knock again as he grinned widely at her, panting.

Because, first of all, Azriel was a quiet person. Hell, even his wings made no sound when flying. If he knocked so loud, it was probably something huge. She didn't know if it was a good thing or not.

And second and more concerning thing was that Azriel was grinning. This was a man who would glare at people just for smiling in his direction.

Now she wondered if she really should have hidden the book.

"Azriel? Is everything alright?"

Impossibly, he somehow managed to grin wider. Once he had gained some semblance of control over his breathing, he spoke.

"Everything's fine. Perfect even."

Now Y/n was seriously concerned.

"Why are you grinning?"

"I need to show you something."

He offered her his hand, which she eyed suspiciously before taking. "What is it?"

"It wouldn't be fun if I told you about it." He pointed out, leading her to a nearby balcony.

That made sense.

He picked her up and began flying, the setting sun making the atmosphere beautiful. That was all Y/n tried to think about because if she didn't, she would continue to hound Azriel for answers, and he was too stubborn for his own good. He wouldn't tell her what it was, no matter what.

Soon, he was landing in front of a beautiful house, a beautiful lawn surrounding it. The area was quiet. There were similar looking houses nearby, a few shops. They were near the center of Velaris, but the pace was still quiet, tranquil even. Just like Azriel.

Y/n thought she knew what was going on, but still she asked. "Why are we here?"

Azriel grinned, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "I wanted to show you this place. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful." She stretched out the word, searching his face.

"I brought that home. I thought now that we are... getting to know each other again and are comfortable, we might as well live somewhere far from Cassian and Nesta. Figured you might be just as tired of them as I am. Of course, I'm not saying you should live with me if you don't want to, but one day... maybe?" He looked at her when he finished rambling, his eyes hopeful.

She smiled. "I would love to live with you Azriel. So, when are we going to move in?"

Azriel's face lit up like a child who had recieved a gift on solstice. "As soon as possible. If you're okay with it." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Do you want to take a look inside?"

"Sure."

Azriel led her inside the mostly empty but clean house, a little jump in his steps. Y/n smiled and shook her head as he walked in front of her, opening all the doors and cupboards, a small grin on his blushing face.

•○🌑○•

Azriel was cooking, having forced Y/n to sit and watch. Since there weren't many things in the house except for a couch, bed and a few cupboards, Azriel had flown back to the house of wind to get items for their dinner.

She had offered to cook, but he had refused. And since then, Y/n could tell he was trying really hard to impress her with his cooking skills.

They kept talking throughout, his focus equally divided.

Right now, he was seemingly about to flip the food in the pan, and he turned to her.

"Watch this." But then he realised she was already watching, and he faltered.

Unfortunately, he had already begun to move the pan. And because he wasn't paying attentiont to the pan, the food items in the pan scattered all around the kitchen, and Y/n hid her smile behind a hand.

Cauldron, Azriel was adorable.

He stared at the mess, his shoulders slumping. Y/n hopped down from the counter she was siting on and moved closer to him. "Go. Sit. I'll make us something."

Azriel shook his head. "No."

Y/n cocked her head. "Why not? I cooked all the time by myself before."

"I'll get something from a restaurant."

Her brows furrowed. "But why?"

"Because I want to treat you better than you have been treated before." He mumbled under his breath, barely audible. Maybe he was trying to not let her hear, but she did.

Her heart swelled, as if it tripped fell down the stairs and now had to rest in bed for its whole life.

"You are treating me good." She smiled at him when he looked at her with wide eyes. He blushed furiously when she placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

"What– what would you like to eat?"

Y/n sighed. "Anything. I don't really have something in mind."

Azriel nodded. "I'll be back soon."

And with that, he bounded off towards the door, leaving his shadows behind to clean up the mess he had made.

•○🌑○•

Y/n watched as her husband moved his hand animatedly, his face filled with excitement.

The two of them sat on the couch, knees touching. Y/n wondered if in a few moments she'd be on his lap.

It had started out with her on the couch and him on the armchair near the fire, having finished their dinner sitting on the kitchen counter top because there was no table or chairs. After that, they had moved to hear the fireplace.

They had sat in silence, contemplating what to talk about when she found Azriel grinning.

When she asked him about it, he told her about how his shadows loved to be nosy and knew almost everyone's secret. How they had been telling him about the secret of the little boy passing by the house. It was that he had stolen a cookie without his mother's knowledge, and how he prayed to the cauldron that she never found out.

Since then, he had begun telling her of all the juicy secrets he gathered over the years, his shadows occasionally chiming in to add to the information. He had slowly begun shifting towards her as he spoke.

It wasn't long before he settled on the opposite end of the couch, a huge smile on his face as he told her of one of his favourite secrets that he found out, his body seemingly moving of its own accord.

Throughout the night after that, he had shifted closer anytime he got a little more excited, her scooting closer when she got more and more intrested in the story he was telling.

He finally stopped speaking, taking a deep breath, his cheeks flushed and a wide grinon his face.

Y/n sighed. "Well... that was a journey."

"I have better stories than that." He smirked smugly when her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Liar. I don't believe you. Even Nesta's books have less dramatic plot lines."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Speaking of Nesta's books... did you enjoy the book that you were you reading today?"

Y/n immediately tensed. "What do you mean?"

He gave her a sly smirk. "I'm the spymaster of the night court, Y/n, and I've been married to you for almost six months now. Do you really think I don't know what conspires between you and Nesta when me and Cassian aren't looking?"

A blush climbed up Y/n's neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure. Let me help you with that–" And then, as if the damn book had been next to him this whole time, he pulled it out of between his shadows and flipped open to where she had been reading when he interrupted her that morning. She knew that because she found the candy wrapper she placed in between the pages to mark the her progress.

She gasped, but he was already beginning to read. "Where were you? I think it was here? He grinned up at her from between her thighs..." He paused for a moment, reading, before he clicked his tongue. "You are really interested in this?"

He was busy reading, and so he didn't see her reaching out to snatch the book until she had a firm grasp on the book. He looked at her in surprise, but she began tugging. Of course, he didn't let her pull it too far before he himself started tugging at it.

"Let go Azriel."

He gave a harsh tug, and Y/n was no match for his strength. She lurched forward, her hand landing on his shoulder. Her face was mere inches from his and he grinned up at her.

"Really? You like this–" He shook the book near her face. "–this thing so much? Honestly, you could choose better."

Her whole face flushed as she tried to keep herself from glancing at his lips. "Don't be mean. It's rude to judge people."

"Hard not to when you read childish things like these." She scowled at him, and he leaned closer to her as he whispered, "Honestly, I could show you better things. The male here is like a newborn child compared to me."

Y/n blinked in shock, his closeness doing nothing to help her slow brain. He huffed a laugh at her reaction, and the air on her face finally pulled her from her daze. She began to pull back, trying to retreat back into her original position, but he caught hold of the hand on his shoulder, his expression serious.

Azriel's eyes trailed down to her mouth, and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. He glanced up at her eyes, his eyes swimming with question.

Y/n knew it would be pointless and stupid to pretend she didn't want what he was offering. She could not keep lying to herself when this was all she wanted since the two of them began spending more time together.

So she simply leaned back in, her eyes fluttering shut when his breath caressed her features again.

•○●⛦●○•

Azriel didn't need anymore confirmation.

He was tired of waiting, and now that she was so close, it was too hard not to sink his teeth into her. Into those beautiful lips, that beautiful body.

So he surged up, and caught his lips with hers.

In that moment, it felt like he had found peace. Something he had been searching his whole life for. Like he had found the home he never had.

Not the house he was currently in, but home in her.

And when she gasped, he realised there were multiple reasons responsible for that feeling.

First obviously being that he loved her.

Second, she loved him.

And how did he know?

He felt it coming at him in waves.

Through the newly found golden string connecting their souls.

I love you. The emotions he felt from her seemed to tell him.

I love you more. The emotions he sent back to her.

And there, on that couch in their new house, tangled in each other's arms...

Azriel and Y/n were finally home.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides @5moremin @stargirl1714 @bunnymallowo @ivy-34 @aria-chikage @kalulakunundrum

[rongzhi]

How would you describe the concept of being gender fluid in mandarin? I've been avoiding coming out to my parents for a while bc I straight up don't know what I'd say - I don't know enough Chinese and idk if they'd be able to understand what I'm trying to communicate if I said it in English. They're both from the Hebei area if that helps at all, and they're not really conservative but they're also not at all caught up on modern terminology so,,, any help would be appreciated 😭

First of all, I want to say that I hope things go well and I’m rooting for you 💖

The term for gender fluid in Chinese, as I’m sure you know, is 流性人 liú xìng rén/流性别者 liú xìng bié zhě.

I’m honored that you think highly enough of my input that you asked, so I wanted to give an answer. However, I am not really a good person to ask about coming out to parents because I have not personally done so in any coherent manner myself, even though my parents aren’t conservative, either.

I can say that I think if I was to come out (hopefully I will one day—I just want to be financially stable first, altho... hmm...), I will probably explain it as best I can in English first and then later offer supplementary reading materials in Chinese. In my mind, the best course of action would be to just start off with the facts—say there is something important you want to share with them and that it would mean a lot if they could hear you out first (or however you talk to your parents normally to get them to sit and listen for a bit). “I am [genderfluid], this means I [whatever it means to you personally, as well as what it doesn’t mean/how you came to this realisation, etc].” I think if I was to explain genderfluidity to my parents, I would include what it might appear as in terms of personal outer appearance as well as how it affects your inner life. I would mention why it’s important/significant enough to your identity that you want them to recognise this is how you identify. I think emphasising the euphoric aspects/how being openly genderfluid would make you happy will be more beneficial to you, rather than try and immediately teach the terminology. My parents often say that they want me to be happy so I would try to explain how sharing that part of who I am would make me happy.

Your parents might understand what transgender identity is because it’s talked in the news a lot, so you could try approaching it from that direction, too. If they know of Guanyinshiyin, too, you could approach it from that direction or liken it to a feeling of nothing and all and either/or fluidity in that sense (if that’s a relevant definition). I think my parents would want to know what it means for them going forward as well, so that might be something to talk or establish in your initial explanation, too—pronouns, whether you hope to change your appearance once out to them, etc. I would probably also say something about how you understand what others might think about you but you don't care about that, again, going back to personal euphoria. I personally wouldn't expect them to understand anything right away, but I would communicate that the hope would be that they make an attempt, and that if they have questions at the moment or in the future, I would want to try to answer them.

I hope that helps at all. Maybe other diaspora with experience can offer further advice in the replies/reblogs.

Good luck! 💖💖

Something that might be helpful for later:

伴您同行：专为跨性别儿童的父母准备的指南 - This is a short guide geared towards parents of transgender/nonbinary children, covering questions of "why", "what", when", "what to do", "who to turn to", "where to go" (recommends Oogachaga, SAFE Singapore, The T Project, TransgenderSG, and Asia Pacific Transgender Network; I'm not personally familiar with all of these organisations, but the handbooks itself seems pretty helpful). It includes brief overviews of HRT, as well, if that's something you want to bring up at all.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Fire and Ice 2

Hi guys!

Here is the part 2 of Fire and Ice, I try to pick a suggestion an anon made yesterday so I hope it will be fun to read :)

And it’s actually much longer than I imagined at first.

Keep telling me what you think about my writing, I love to read you.

Enjoy!

PART 1 ______________________________________________________________

The next time you saw Leah was two days after your kiss. She was kind of moody, all the team was supposed to take the team picture and the weather wasn't really nice.

Even if you didn’t stop thinking about this kiss, you didn’t try to talk to her. Or at least you didn't do anything else than creep every picture on her Instagram or the firsts videos of her TikTok. And the more you find yourself watching these videos, the more you fall in love with Leah. The way you felt during this kiss is always present and you just have to think about it to feel them again. It never happened to you before and you don't know what to do about it.

Arriving the last ones with Alessia, with whom you make the trips to the stadium, you don't have the courage to go and greet everyone. You just smile and wave, but your gaze lingers for a few more seconds on Leah. With her umbrella, she seems to complain to a Lia who have an amused look on her side.

After this day you didn't really have the opportunity to see her. However, what you don't know is that she sometimes observes you from the physio center where she continues to follow her exercises to return to the field with you. Despite the tinted windows, she sometimes has the impression that you feel her gaze on her given the way you turn in her direction.

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

The next time you really have the opportunity to see her, it's for the next team evening. This time it was organized by Lia and you gladly accept when she ask you to come over. You managed to sit on the sofa with direct look to the kitchen where Leah is, in the middle of a discussion with two or three other teammates, allowing you to look at her without it being too obvious. This will not stop you from getting caught by Leah herself watching her, several times. But each time you just smile at her before looking away, without even taking the time to check that she gives it back to you.

Pizza were eaten and the first film finished when Beth and Katie approach you with a big smile, sitting each on either side of you. You were talking with Frida about Norway, you missed your country a little bit, but your conversation was quickly stopped. From the corner of your eye, you notice that Leah sits down more straight on the other sofa, a look of frustration on her face.

"So!" Katie begin as you raise an eyebrow at here "We made you a Tinder account."

"You what?"

To be honest, you really thought they’d forgotten about you meeting someone. The subject hadn't been discussed since and you didn't even think to tell Frida about it, the kisses you exchanged with Leah making you forget what else had happened during this evening.

"What’s all this about?" Frida asked with a deep frown, taking her role of big sister a little too much at heart.

"Well, Y/N is single, young, cute and really hot. She need to find someone to take care of her and give her the love she deserved" Beth answers, like it was the most logical thing ever.

You whispers something about the love of god on your mother language, hiding your face behind your hand.

"Told you it was stupid of you" Leah mumble from her couch.

You look at her between your fingers, but you are quickly interrupted by Beth who removes your hand from your face to show you her phone screen.

"Look!" she says happily while you take it in your hand.

Tinder was open on your profile and you look at what they might have written or said about you.

"Where did you find this picture?" you asked, as it was one you take from your last summer holiday.

"Google, i think. Dunno" Katie shrugs.

"I'm single and ready to mingle. Really?"

Beth and Katie both laughs as you roll your eyes, giving Beth's phone back. You’re trying to take this lightly, even if you must admit that it makes you a little uncomfortable. If the information that a profile in your name is on a application like this comes to your parents, you’re not sure you can handle their questions. Frida, on the other hand, seems rather suspicious and a glance at Leah informs you that she's still looking at the scene with a gloomy face.

"And it's not finish! We already managed to arrange two dates for you. We didn't know which kind of girl you like, so we take a brunette and a blonde. You just have to cancel the one you don't like."

You remain completely amazed this time, simply not knowing what to answer. It was Leah who did it for you, getting up from the couch, too angry to stay on the couch.

"This is some bullshit, making up a date from Tinder? What are you looking to? Get her murdered to get her place on the team?"

"She's right" Frida add, frowning. "I don't want to find her in the news, other than for her athletic talents."

"You both are overreacting. She will be safe" Katie shrugs.

"Blond or brunette?" Beth asks you, ignoring the others.

Your gaze flies away for a split second towards Leah, before you respond in a whisper that you prefer blondes.

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

A few days later, you find yourself at the date that you haven't planned at all, clearly not totally comfortable with the girl that your teammates have selected for you. She realized very fast that the way you talk isn't the same that it was on the application, so you confessed the truth. It didn’t seem to bother her, but rather to amuse her. After your meal at the restaurant, she offered to continue the evening in a bar a little further down the street and you agreed. You can’t deny people things.

You’re having a hard time concentrating on what she’s telling you, stupidly excited about something else. One little thing, too. But Leah did a post last night on your last game and in her photo drop she posted one of you accompanied by a goat emoji and a crown. And it gives you far too much pleasure for it to be innocent. But again, Emma, who seems to be particularly the kind to forgive people, doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it.

Speaking of attention, you haven't shown much either since you didn't realize that the woman who has been haunting your thoughts for almost three weeks is actually a few meters from you.

Leah managed to snatch the name of the restaurant you were supposed to meet Emma from Beth and simply decided to take you as a fillature. Officially to watch over you and make sure nothing happens to you. Unofficially because she’s mad as hell just thinking about the stupid idea of her two friends. Like you need a Tinder date to meet someone.

As she watches you talking to that damn blonde, she tries to determine the real reasons why she came here. Because the truth is, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your kiss either. And it annoys her like crazy, but after trying to ignore you for almost two weeks, these idiots of Beth and Katie decided to throw you in the arms of the first person coming.

And even though she’s consumed with jealousy to see you so comfortable with Emma, unlike what you’ve never been with her, Leah can’t help but feel satisfied seeing you get lost in your thoughts sometimes as Emma talks. Emma can certainly not realize it since she doesn't know you, but Leah has been watching you for two weeks and can now determine the different expressions of your face.

She followed you to the bar discreetly, there also satisfied to see the physical distance that you put between you two while you were walking. She saw the way Emma tried to grab your arm to walk and the skillful way you went away, while remaining polite. It reassured her a little, too, proving that despite your shyness you can say no.

The bar you chose doesn’t have a very good reputation (something you don't know) and Leah is happy to have followed you, just in case. The crowd being denser than in the restaurant, she sometimes loses sight of you from her table while you are installed in the bar with Emma. She isn't disturbed on her side, her icy look sufficient to keep away any human being having a little common sense.

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

The discussion with Emma is rather light, but not transcendent either. She seems rather kind and it makes you a little sad not to be able to give her the attention she probably deserves. But you can’t help but think about Leah and it makes you half crazy. While you and Emma were walking down the street, you were wondering, for example, where would Leah have preferred to take you after the restaurant instead of listening to Emma talk about her work.

"I'm going to the bathroom" you say right after you order your second drink.

On your way to the toilet, you take the opportunity to take a look at your phone and send a message to Frida and Alessia to inform them that you are still alive. And you end up on Leah’s Instagram page, pouting when you see she doesn’t post anything. When you return, you inform Emma that after you finish your drink you will go home. You’re getting tired and the heat at the bar doesn’t help you feel better.

She takes it with a smile, not even asking if you will be able to see each other again next time. It makes you hope a little that she realized that you didn’t necessarily have sparks between both of you. Perhaps she could become a friend, but certainly not a love interest.

"Are you all right?" Emma asks you frowning a few minutes later.

With your eyes closed, you shake your head negatively, using all your strength of mind not to fall off your stool. Your head turns atrociously and you have the impression that the food you ingested a few hours earlier is just waiting to come out.

"Bathroom" is the only word you managed to say.

You try to get up, but it’s only Emma’s hand catching your arm that keeps you from falling. It's no longer your head that turns, but the whole room while the sounds of conversations or atmosphere of the bar reach you as if you had your head under the water.

"Come with me, I'll help you ok?" Emma tells you nicely by helping you to the bathroom.

As you reach the door, a voice intervenes and you must focus to understand what it says.

"Let her go. Now."

"Who are you?"

The unknown voice doesn't respond, but you feel much more toned and assertive arms seize your waist, rather delicately though. A fresh, pleasant hand lands on your forehead and only then that you recognize the smell of Leah’s perfume. The white fear that gripped her voice prevented you from recognizing her.

Hardly opening your eyes, blinded by the light of the toilet, you only see two babyblue eyes before sinking definitively.

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

When you regain consciousness, despite your closed eyes, it only takes you a few seconds to remember what just happened. Opening your eyes abruptly, you suddenly sit in the bed in which you are. You’ve read too many stories that end badly because of drugs ingested without consent.

"Wow, slow down cowboy"

Leah get up from the chair next to you, lightly pushing your elbow to make you lie down again.

"Leah? What are you doing here? Wha- What happened to me?"

"It's ok sweatheart. You're safe. Breath, ok?"

Leah doesn't answer your question but the pet name she gave you make you forget this point. The softness of the tone she just used and her hand that delicately releases your hair from your face causes you like electric mini-currents throughout all your body. Is it normal to react like that to such a banal gesture?

But the black hole in your memory continues to torment you, you need to know.

"Do you know what happened to me?" you ask quietly, raising your eyes on her.

Leah bites her lips and you imagine already the worst, but she doesn't let the suspense remain too long.

"They think someone put something in your glass. Your girlfriend swore it wasn’t her, so they’ll look for who it might be. Even if you decide not to press charges the bar did so then they will look anyway. But no one touch you, I promise."

"She's not my girlfriend" you mumble, sinking yourself in the pillow.

"Whatever" Leah grumble, pulling the chair next to your bed to be near you.

"What are you doing here Leah?" you ask again, looking at her.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Of course not. You’ve never been alone with her in a room so long and you’re secretly thrilled that she’s here to take care of you. You’re worried about her leaving.

"No"

A few seconds of silence passed after your answer, to which Leah replied only with a nod, before returning to speak.

"I followed you"

You did not expect this answer and your head turns so sharply in her direction that Leah doesn't have time to hide her slight red cheeks.

"Why?"

"I'm your captain. I’m supposed to look after you."

You nod, a little disappointed with this answer. Your eyes continue to scan Leah’s face, who always seems to refuse to look at you. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gently place your hand on hers. You notice with relief that she doesn't remove it, despite her look on your hands.

"It's weird"

"What?" you ask, frowning.

Her eyes plunge into yours and you find yourself breathless in front of so much intensity.

"The way you make me feel"

You feel your heart miss a beat, before it start beating way too fast. You swallow your saliva but suddenly find yourself unable to say a word.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed Y/N. I can't stop to think about it. I can't stop looking at you even if I don't want to because that's fucking scare me. I never fell this way before, even though I didn’t kiss almost two hundred people like Beth implied the other night. I mean, of course I noticed you because like Katie said, it’s hard not to. But we never really talked, and now I’m just thinking about you all the time. It doesn’t fucking make sense."

You're stunned, one more time. But Leah has been honest with you and you owe her the truth, too.

"You impressed me. That’s why I never really came to talk to you. I was afraid you might think I was stupid or immature."

"You used the past. Does that mean you don’t think I’m impressive anymore?" Leah asks you with a smirk.

Despite everything you can't help but smile slightly.

"No. I feel it even stronger, because you’re not the only one who has those kisses in mind all the time. I didn’t know you felt the same way."

Your heart keeps beating fast and you are relieved not to have a heart rate displayed on a machine, nothing would have been more embarrassing than that.

Leah’s gaze scans your face and you take the opportunity to do the same, admiring her features more openly than ever.

"Would it be inappropriate to kiss you now?"

Smiling softly, you respond negatively with a nod. You didn’t think your heart could pick up its pace again when you realized that Leah is approaching your face. Very slowly, allowing you to largely anticipate what will happen.

A breath escapes from your mouth when her lips ghost yours.

"Stay still" she whispers.

And you need all your strength of concentration to lie down and not break the last millimeters between your lips. But eventually it happens, Leah’s lips gently settling on yours. With the tip of your thumb, you caress her cheek for the few seconds that the kiss lasts.

It may have been a simple kiss and not a session of long making out, but the fireworks are back. You find yourself immersed in the blue of Leah’s eyes when you open yours again, shining with the same light you saw when you were at her home.

"I want more" you whispers and she smiles.

Delicately, you draw her with you on your bed and she willingly lets herself be guided.

You’re the one who initiates the next kiss, now that you know you have the right to do it. The sensations you find on her lips make you feel like you can breathe completely again. You spend a few moments rediscovering her lips, before sliding the tip of your tongue on her lower lip. You take advantage of Leah’s moan to slide your tongue into her mouth, starting a playful battle to determine which of the two will win.

When you separate from her to catch your breath, you feel her chasing your lips for a new kiss that you cannot refuse her. The truth is you don’t want this moment to end. But this eventually happens when a nurse enters the room right after knocking. Leah detaches herself from you to cast a bad look at the professional who blushes like a tomato.

"Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t know…" she stammers and you have to bite your lips not to burst out laughing.

"What do you need?" asked Leah coldly.

"I just came to check that everything was fine"

"I’m fine, thank you" you answer with a smile, not to traumatize this poor nurse.

She nods and waits a few more seconds without moving, requiring a steady look from Leah with both eyebrows raised so that she gets out of the room, apologizing again.

"Stop impressing people" you smile, gently smacking her shoulder.

Leah turns her attention to you with a smirk and lays a softer kiss on your lips this time. Laughing softly at the visible disappointment on your face, she wraps a strand of your hair around her finger.

"As much as I would literally spend the rest of my day kissing you, I would like to make things clear right now"

"Ok?" you answer, feeling the anxiety slowly coming back.

You push yourself to the side of the bed to let Leah settle next to you, which she does by lying on the side her head supported by her hand.

"I know I’m not easy, I’m unpredictable, and sometimes I have trouble myself figuring out why I’m reacting like this. I am unbearable when it comes to food. I am jealous but I hate being so sometimes I pout for like two days without succeeding in explaining why. I’m really not the perfect girlfriend, every time I wanted to surprise someone it went wrong."

You don’t say anything, listening to Leah talking about herself, maybe not in the best way, wondering where she wants to go by telling you all this.

"But I think I’m a caring person, who knows how to take care of those she loves and remember things. I love cuddling in the morning, singing like crazy while burning my breakfast and taking baths. And I think I’ll love all these things even more if you share them with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship, but I want to try with you. I promise you to never hurt you. Let me get this right and let me take you on a date as soon as you get out of here."

"I would love that, Leah"

"Yes?"

"Yes" you answer, your smile illuminating your face.

She smiles back and you lean for another kiss. Leah doesn’t let you, however, putting an index on your lips at the last moment.

"One last thing"

"What?" you ask, hiding your frustration.

"I never want to hear about this damn Emma again."

You laugh while rolling your eyes. Despite her, Leah smiles softly and finally decides to interrupt your laughter by kissing you.

[rax-writes]

Rolan x Reader

↬ Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns for reader, mentions of breastfeeding and some old coot being uppity about it, protective!Rolan

↬ This is the brain rot result of @drizztdohurtin and I discussing proective!Rolan. Hope y'all enjoy, Rolan Nation. Love y'all. ♡

Sorcerous Sundries was thronged with customers, and it seemed every one of them had a question they only wished to ask the Master of the Tower himself. Rolan did well with maintaining his pleasant demeanor, even after he finished speaking to the third person in a row who struggled with the somatic components of simple spells. Regardless of how trivial the questions, or how dense the customers, Rolan thoroughly enjoyed his job. After all, this was everything he'd dreamed of, and more.

The company he kept in the shop area of the Sundries on this particular day helped as well.

Naturally, the brief moment to himself was snatched away by a customer approaching Rolan – albeit looking considerably more agitated than the others, but not a sight he was unfamiliar with.

Ah, the joys of customer service.

“I'd like to speak with the manager of this establishment,” the middle-aged woman stated, the deep frown set upon her features making her wrinkles all the more noticeable.

“You're looking at him. How might I assist you?” Rolan asked calmly, giving her the same kind smile he gives everyone in the Sundries.

“I have been here many times over the past few decades, and never before have I had any concerns about the atmosphere or decorum. Until today. And I must say, I am downright appalled.”

Rolan's smile faded. Gods, had Cal or Lia gotten cross with a rude customer and swore at them? Or maybe something simpler – like one of the newer employees guided her in the wrong direction?

“I am grateful you have come to me about this, so that I have the opportunity to right whatever wrong has occurred. Could you tell me more about what happened?” Rolan asked sincerely.

“Yes. I simply cannot believe the indecency you would allow in a place of such esteemed business. For the sake of the gods, that – that harlot over there is lounging about, exposed.”

Rolan's brows furrowed in genuine confusion, as he swiveled his entire body around to examine the space. The only person seated, on the entire ground floor, was you. His wife. Who just so happened to be breastfeeding his son.

You smiled at him when you caught his eye, confused when he did not return it. Instead, your husband's expression soured, before he returned his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Are you referring to the woman on the settee, feeding her baby?”

“Why, yes I am. That is indecent. She should be covered up, or in a washroom. Or, better yet, she should have left and gone home to do that!”

“She is here because this is her home,” Rolan said, slowly and carefully, attempting to conceal the intense irritation he felt. The woman appeared confused, until Rolan spoke again. “Ignoring the fact that she is the Hero of Baldur's Gate, and you should show her due respect – she is my wife, and she is feeding my son. I hardly see how that is indecent.”

“Well, she – it – that isn't something she should be doing in public! You ought to tell her to go elsewhere,” the woman sputtered, crossing her arms.

“The only person I'll be telling to go elsewhere is you, madam.” The woman sputtered some more, alternating between halved arguments and requests for forgiveness, but Rolan merely held up a hand, effectively silencing her. “Please leave this establishment at once. Should you wish to return with a kinder demeanor, you are welcome here. If not, do not bother coming back. Have the day the gods see fit to bestow upon you.”

Rolan turned on his heel and walked away then, noticing the woman huffing but leaving from his peripheral vision, as he made his way over to you. He sat beside you on the settee, a beaming smile quickly replacing his scowl as you handed him the baby, having just finished feeding and burping him.

“What was all that about? That woman looked positively irate,” you inquired with a chuckle.

Rolan merely shook his head, placing a gentle kiss between the still-tiny nubs of his son's horns, then giving you a quick kiss.

“Nothing of importance, my love.”

[chvoswxtch]

I have a request for you: I'm at the bar with friends but have been sneaking glances at Matt playing pool all night. Friends are like quit staring at his ass and go talk to him. But I'm like no, guys that hot aren't interested in shy, curvy girls. Then to my surprise, Matt comes over and starts flirting. Wouldn't mind it getting spicy. Fic if the muses are with you. She/her pronouns are fine. Thank you for your time.

hi darling!

i'm sorry for getting this to you so late, but I hope you enjoy it 🖤

generous.

warnings: swearing, drinking, allusions to spicyness, matt murdock's ass word count: 1.4k

“Oh come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Are you really asking me, a chronic overthinker, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Because I could give you ten worst case scenarios right now just off the top of my head.”

“So what, you’re just gonna sit here all night staring at his ass?”

“I wasn’t just staring at his ass. He’s got plenty of other nice things to stare at.”

For the last hour, you’d been staring at the mysterious brunette blind man lingering by one of the pool tables with his two friends. You hadn’t even wanted to come out tonight. It had been a hell of a week, and you would’ve rather gotten tipsy in the comfort of your own living room. But now you were thankful your best friend had dragged you out, and to whomever this gorgeous man’s tailor was. 

The white dress shirt he wore seemed to strain around his broad shoulders and biceps every time he lifted his beer bottle to his plump looking lips. His maroon tie hung loosely around his neck, the first two buttons undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows giving you a delectable view of his forearms. But the real star of the show were his pants. They clung to his thighs like a second skin, and every time he leaned over the pool table, you were presented with the sight of the most amazing ass you had ever seen. 

You didn’t know whether to be jealous that yours didn’t have the same curve and roundness or grateful that from your spot in the bar you had the perfect view of it. 

“Quit being insecure. It’s not like he can see you.”

“Oh wow, thanks.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You might as well be as blind as he is if you can look in the mirror and not see you’re a knockout.”

Rolling your eyes, you downed the rest of your dry martini, letting the bitter lukewarm gin settle warmly in your lower stomach. Setting down your empty glass on the table, you turned to her and cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes into lighthearted slits.

“Do you know how blind people ‘see’? With their hands.”

“What man doesn’t love a good handful of tits and ass?”

The laugh that abruptly escaped your mouth couldn’t be contained by your hand. It was so loud and infectious, it caught the attention of a few patrons around your table. Removing the twist of lemon from your empty glass, you tossed it in her direction with widened eyes, trying to speak through your laughter.

“Jesus, Jess.”

“What? All I’m saying is if I had your curves, I would never wear clothes. I’d walk around naked all the time. And I certainly wouldn’t be so shy about approaching men.”

“Okay one, you do that already. And two, you haven’t been shy a day in your life.”

Setting her glass of bourbon down, Jessica looked at you with a mischievous smirk on her lips and arched one of her dark brows.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you go talk to him.”

“You are not bribing me to go talk to him.”

“Well I shouldn’t have to with the way you’re drooling over him. Thirty bucks.”

“I am not drooling-”

“Forty bucks.”

“Jess I swear to-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a firm chest met your shoulder, and you felt a large hand suddenly pressing along your lower back. Glancing up, your eyes widened in shock as you were met with the sight of none other than the beautiful man that you had been thirsting over all night. His soft lips stretched into the brightest and most charming grin you had ever seen, adorned with a set of dimples indenting each of his scruffy cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, excuse me. I think I took a wrong turn on the way to the bar.”

That voice…God, that voice. It was deep and smooth and itched something in your brain you didn’t realize needed to be scratched. You’d definitely be fantasizing about it later reciting particular phrases with your hand between your legs. A light kick to your shin under the table brought you back to the present, and you turned your head to glare at Jessica, finding her staring back at you with an arched brow, motioning her head towards the handsome stranger. You quickly realized that you hadn’t said anything, just sat there gawking at him, and your cheeks flushed with heat as you stumbled over a response.

“Oh…um…don’t worry about it. I get lost on my way home from work all the time, and I only live two blocks from my office. At least you have an excuse.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, your eyes widened in horror, and you immediately started trying to do damage control.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant…I just…I didn’t-”

Your ramblings were cut off by the sound of his deep and hearty chuckle that was melodic and full of pure amusement. His large hand that was splayed on your back, causing your skin to feel scorched from the heat of his palm transferring through the thin material, slowly slid to your waist to give it a light reassuring squeeze, but he didn’t pull away.

“Two blocks away? If your sense of direction is that bad, you’re welcome to borrow my cane.”

There was a hint of a tease nestled within his words that you detected, and it settled the anxiety that had twisted your stomach into knots thinking you had offended him. Letting out a soft breath, a faint laugh left your lips.

“That’s…very generous of you.”

The man’s tongue darted out to wet his plump lips, and the sight was hypnotic. The edge of his mouth curved up into a devilish smirk, and he gave a light shrug of his shoulders.

“I’m Catholic.”

A soft snort escaped you at that, and your brows rose slightly up your forehead as you took a moment to enjoy the sight of this gorgeous man up close.

“Oh, so the generosity is mandated?”

“Highly encouraged. Speaking of generosity, would you mind showing me to the bar?”

That caught you off guard. Blinking a few times, your lips parted to speak, but you abruptly forgot every word in the English language. Jessica suddenly piped up from across the table.

“She’d love to. She needs a refill anyway.”

You were so caught up in being close enough to the handsome brunette stranger to smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne, you had almost forgotten she was there. Turning your head to look at Jessica with widened eyes, silently asking “what the fuck are you doing”, all she did was wink in response and bring her glass of bourbon to her curved lips.

“Well, in that case, I’d love to buy you a drink then. As a thank you.”

The man removed his hand from your waist, and you instantly found yourself missing the contact. He held his large hand out in your direction, that same charming smile plastered on his enticing mouth.

“I’m Matt, by the way.”

Matt. Your new favorite name. You’d definitely be reciting it later in bed while you indulged in erotic fantasies, wishing that your hand between your thighs was his own. 

Smiling shyly, you slipped your hand into his, your heart rate picking up at the way he curled his fingers around your palm in a firm but gentle grip. His hand was warm and a little rough but you wouldn’t mind letting him trace every inch of your skin to draw his own map of you in his mind. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

The way he repeated your name, like he was tasting it on his lips, had heat burning in your lower belly more than the gin you’d consumed. He gave your hand a delicate tug in his direction, grinning when you followed his silent command and got down from the bar stool. He let go of your hand to slip his arm around your waist instead, bending down to speak lowly in your ear.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejloveb0t @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts @starsm00n @mentallyunstablebish @spiritofthewriter @merleisapartygod @powellssaturn @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek

[boyfhee]

ALWAYS ⋆ lhs

prompt · “this—” [ points at their chest ] “—belongs to you. always,” requested

g · fluff warnings · vegetable mentions lmfao wc · 0.6k

note · i tried something new ( sticking to the point instead of over explaing the scenes )

“you’re upset,” heeseung finally says after a series of sighs dancing off his lips, walking up from the couch to the kitchen, taking a seat opposite to you by the counter as you start preparing dinner. “what happened?” 

you start putting vegetables in a bowl to wash them, taking an onion from his hand as he passes you one, eyes lost amidst the unreadable expression on your face, looking for answers. “nothing,”

“did i do something?” he asks again, voice softer than before. 

you shrug, “perhaps,”

“you need to be more specific there, love,” 

you pause, wondering if it’s actually worth telling him— the reason is quite embarrassing, honestly. the look on his face resembles hesitation, you can tell he’s thinking if he’s doing something wrong, along with the slightest of guilt with panic that gleam in his eyes. on other days, you would cup his face and discard every second thought intoxicating his mind, but not today. 

“i went to jake’s aunt’s flower shop to see how you and the boys were holding up with volunteering,” so, you get back to your vegetables, letting the words fall off your lips ever so nonchalantly while heeseung listened with extreme care. “and i saw you being all smiley with a certain someone,” 

“oh,” and you understand that he has gotten the hint in the way his lips curl into a smirk, knowing how you are referring to, and the way he gets up and walks next to you, putting his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “do tell me more,” 

“and i wanted to have a little talk with you guys but,” you continue, as per his request, the frown on your face fighting back to morph into a smile at heeseung’s playful gaze that lingered upon you while your own is busy travelling walls and ceilings. 

“but?” the smile on his lips grows wider. 

“but—” 

“but, you got jealous and left,” he finishes your sentence for you with a mocking smile, knowing exactly the direction this conversation was heading in. “is that right?” 

it isn’t wrong to be jealous, neither is it wrong to accept that you’re jealous, but you know better than saying yes and giving him yet another reason to tease you. “no, heeseung, i was not jealous. i was just concerned,” 

“i see. i was too, about the sales,” he explains, pressing his lips into a thin line. “she was getting lilies, and jake’s aunt particularly told us to smile and greet customers to make them feel welcomed so that they visit again,” 

it had become a saturday routine for heeseung to lend jake’s aunt a hand or two at her shop, along with jay and sunghoon. the boys had been hunting for part time jobs and she offered a perfect deal after her previous employees left almost three weeks ago. it was surely difficult to assist everyday due to classes so they settled for tuesdays and saturdays, with sundays if there is ever an influx of customers. 

“and what if she gives those flowers to you tomorrow?” your question makes him look at you with a blank expression as if he was to say, not again, sweetheart. “c’mon, hee, we both know iseul likes you,” 

“well, that might be true but this—” he points at his heart, looking at you with eyes full of all the love present in the universe, as if you hung the stars in his sky. “—this belongs to you, always,” 

“oh, then i must be the luckiest person in the world,”

you laugh at his corny and yet sweet words, getting lost in his gaze as if nothing else is worth looking at, getting caught up in surprise when he leans down to plant a soft peck on your lips. “i think i’m luckier to have you own my heart,”

[eoieopda]

Hi Jade! Could I request a cute, fluffy Jungkook drabble where his girlfriend meets Bam for the first time and they instantly become besties?

sure thing, sweet bean!

i saw this pic while i was looking through pinterest for possible banners and it sent me, then it inspired this nonsense 🤪

The first few weeks of dating anyone new are a certifiable mindfuck. Underneath the warm wave of infatuation, there’s a maelstrom brewing; and if you’re too short-sighted, you might drown.

To keep afloat, you spend more time than ever preening — making damn sure that your appearance and personality are at their most palatable. You wear carefully coordinated underwear; you wash your hair on a regular schedule for once; and you try to keep that persistently doubtful inner monologue of yours locked in the vault at the back of your brain.

Meanwhile, outside of presenting yourself as the prettiest of all packages, you have to — somehow — keep an eye out for the other person’s red flags. Sure, you’re a firework whenever their texts light up your inbox, but are they good for your mental health? What if you take off the rose-colored glasses and find that your little love boat is actually trash barge; and — surprise! — that trash barge has been on fire this entire time, with you none the wiser?

If you successfully cross that minefield and survive long enough meet who you’re really dealing with, the introductions don’t stop there. They meet your friends, you meet theirs. Then come parents, then the hidden flaws that are no longer waiting in the wings, then the final arbiter.

If their pet doesn’t like your vibe? Game over.

It’s with a weak jolt of panic that you stand on Jungkook’s doorstep, poised to knock. Before your knuckles can hit the wood, you hear a muffled call from inside: “It’s open!”

Odd.

You inhale as you turn the knob and push it open — and the second you lay eyes on him, it leaves you in a wheezing, entirely and embarrassingly authentic laugh. The very laugh you’ve nearly fainted trying to suppress, which prompts you to immediately slap your hand over your mouth.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor is the bad boy your friends all warned you about — donning a face mask that looks like marshmallow fluff against his tan skin — with a dog wiggling excitedly in front of him, and a toothbrush in hand. Both of them look up at you like everything’s normal, and you swear they’re both smiling.

“Hi,” Jungkook chirps, grinning carefully so as to not disturb his mask. He speaks at his usual quick pace like his body contains more energy than he knows what to do with, “I’m almost done with his teeth. Are you hungry?”

You blink, absolutely dumbfounded, and then you ask, “Did — did you forget I was coming over?”

Jungkook furrows his brows— which are, for the record, hidden under bright, white clay — and now you feel like an absolute asshole for making assumptions. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t be caught dead in this state. Not this early into the relationship, when he might not be invested enough in you to see past it.

Yet here he was with all his cards on the table, leaving it up to you to take them or leave them.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve actually been looking forward to this all day,” he admits with a sheepish smile, suddenly shy. Then, Jungkook glances down at the dog, whose wiggling only intensifies as you toe off your shoes and begin your approach. “So has Bam.”

You join them both on the floor, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle. With your weight propped up on one arm, you tilt your head and muse, “He’s really well trained. Normally, dogs are all over you the second you walk in a room, you know?”

You really should’ve known better than to bait Jungkook like that. There’s barely time to process the look he exchanges with Bam — as if they’re plotting telepathically — because there’s a quick nod in your direction, and then there’s a doberman bowling you over onto your back.

It’s impossible to tell who’s laughing louder: Jungkook, whose watering eyes might leave streaks in his face mask; or you, hugging forty kilograms of unadulterated bliss. One thing is clear: Jungkook is over the moon. So much so that he coos, “Aww, look who made a friend!”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to Bam or to you.

“Best friend, obviously,” You peep, “No one has ever been this excited to see me before in my life.” You have to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the tongue lapping lovingly over your cheeks. Turning your head abruptly to the side, you snort, “God, he even kisses like you!”

“I sure as fuck do not kiss you like that,” Jungkook huffs with a pout you just barely catch a glimpse of. He’s up on his knees in a heartbeat, carefully removing Bam from you just to take his place. He narrows his eyes playfully as he settles with one hand on either side of your face; and the wicked glint in them isn’t lost on you. “One of us bites, doll. The other one was trained not to.”

You flex an eyebrow and it’s more of a dare than a reaction, “Is that so?”

Jungkook tucks a renegade strand of hair behind your ear. “Definitely,” he hums as he does the same to the other side. “Pretty thing. Know what you’re missing, though?”

You’re scared to ask, so you let your widening eyes do the talking.

“Bit of skincare!” He declares with a wolfish grin.

Within a split second, Jungkook cups your face in his hands and you realize exactly why he bothered to push your hair out of your face. His is pressed to yours as he kisses you deep, right through your startled gasp. Jungkook makes sure to smear the goop from his chin and cheeks onto yours in the process. You can feel his smile as he does.

There’s a teasing nip at your bottom lip when he eventually pulls back, gently tugging what he’s captured with him for a millimeter or two before releasing you. Gazing down at his messy masterpiece, his brows crinkle under the weight of his thoughts. Wordlessly, he drops one hand from your jaw; drags the pad of his thumb down his nose; then swipes the excess along the bridge of yours. He taps the button of your nose gently, looking pleased as fucking punch.

Now, it would seem that you’ve rocketed straight through the awkward, not-quite-yourself phase of dating and ended up crash-landing on the other side.

“That better?” You pant, knowing full well that it really, really is.

Jungkook leans down again to kiss you much more sweetly than before. With his lips still pressed to yours, he smirks, “Much.”

Then, he drops onto the rug next to so you can sit upright again. “And I think you’ve been greenlit, but I won’t presume to speak on Bam’s behalf.”

You both turn to Bam — the final boss — for his verdict. When he lets out a quick boof, it sounds like a sneeze, but it says everything you need to know.

[staytheword]

clear skies

clear skies — one shot sequel of falling rain [ masterlist ] 

— bang chan x female reader. also features han jisung, lee know, yeji (itzy), and san (ateez).

— non idol au. friends to lovers. mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, angst, drinking, explicit language, explicit smut, a lot of discussion around break-ups, closure, healing, etc. smut warnings (spoilers) — oral sex (m receiving), protected sex, some dirty talk, no major warnings.

— word count: 6.8k

— !! please consider reading falling rain before reading this, as it is a direct sequel and I fear it will make much less sense without the first part :') ♡

You and Chan are friends. Maybe a little more than that, after your night together. You find yourself healing, really healing, until your ex makes you question everything.

You knock on the door of apartment 6, nervously biting your lip. A few seconds later, it opens on Jisung. He looks like he just got out of bed although it’s early afternoon, which wouldn’t be surprising considering what you know of his sleeping schedule. 

“Y/N,” he smiles. “We don’t often see you around here. What’s up?” 

You show him the bag you’re holding. 

“Chan told me he was sick. I brought him some stuff.” 

Jisung gives you a long look but he opens the door so you can come in. You enter the apartment, taking a curious look around. You’ve only been here for parties, and nothing looks the same in the dark. In the direct sunlight of the afternoon, and without all the people, it feels like a whole different place. 

“Yeah, he told me he caught a cold,” Jisung says, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “No idea how.” 

“It’s been raining pretty bad these days,” you shrug. 

Jisung nods, still looking at you suspiciously. You do your best not to act differently than you do, hoping your friend isn’t as good at reading you as Chan is. Because you have no idea if Jisung knows about what happened. You haven’t told anyone yet, although you’re planning to spill everything to Yeji soon. You’re not sure how Chan feels about the other night - you’re not sure how you feel about the other night. 

But when he told you he was sick - because of you and the scene you made under the rain - you couldn’t just stay home. You had to make it up to him. So you got him soup from his favorite place, as well as a few snacks. 

“He’s in his room,” Jisung says eventually. 

“Thanks, Ji.”

“Sure. I’ll be here if you need me.” 

He gestures towards the couch, and you give him a smile. As you walk away, you see him hit the controller, and the show on the television starts playing again - although from what you can feel on your back, he’s staring at you. 

You knock on Chan’s door and a tired voice tells you to come in. 

He’s laying on his bed, half sitting up, playing on his Switch. His hair is a mess, and so is his room, but you don’t mind. All you see are his red nose, his chapped lips, the hazy look in his eyes. 

“Oh, Chan,” you sigh, and he chuckles. 

“I look that bad, yeah?”

His nasal voice clearly shows he’s sick, and you pout, closing the door behind you. 

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he says.

“I wanted to. I brought you a few things.” 

You sit on the bed next to him, opening the bag and taking out what you know are his favorite snacks, placing them on the desk close by. 

“And also this,” you tell him, removing the bowl of soup. 

As he recognizes the restaurant name on the lid, his eyes light up. One of his favorites. 

“Ohh. Ohhh.” 

“Thought that might make you feel better. Eat, while it’s still warm.” 

He giggles excitedly, his Switch abandoned next to him, and he sits upright, carefully taking the bowl in his hands. You just watch him as he takes his first spoonful, closing his eyes to savor the taste. 

“I think I’m cured,” he says with a laugh.

You smile affectionately, relieved to see he’s not too sick to eat. As your eyes linger on his face, you realize you can’t really stay. You have no reason to, after all. You look down at your hands. 

“Ji was highly suspicious of my visit,” you tell Chan. 

He frowns. “What did he say?” 

“Nothing,” you sigh. “But it was obvious.” 

“Well…” Chan swallows. “I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

You nod, but you’re not sure what to answer. You don’t know if you’re happy about that or not. 

“I’ve been too sick, didn’t feel right,” he explains, keeping his eyes on you. Despite their glassiness, you read them well. “Should I have?” 

“No,” you answer. “I mean - not if you didn’t want to. Of course not.” 

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No,” you say, looking up at him. “I want to tell Yeji, though. Is that okay?” 

He smiles. 

“Of course. I don’t want you to feel like it has to be a secret.” 

You sigh in relief. “I agree. It’s just… Some might not understand.” 

“We don’t have to tell everyone,” Chan shrugs. “We’re still friends, right? That doesn’t change.” 

You blink. 

Just you and me.

Just you and me tonight. 

“We are,” you smile, and you believe it. 

That night, Chan made you feel seen like you never had before. A part of you wonders if it means you have fallen in love. But as you sit next to him, looking at him eating his soup so excitedly, you realize it’s not. What you shared is special - and you told each other things that did matter, and that did change your relationship. But you are still yourselves. You don’t want to bury yourself in doubt. Not now. There are still things you need to figure out about yourself and what you want. 

You need to find yourself first so you can honor him. 

So you can love him like he should be loved. 

Maybe Chan can fall in love with you.

Maybe you can fall in love with him. 

For now, you are friends. 

A little more than that. 

But it’s still enough.

“So, yeah. We had sex.” 

Yeji gasps, putting a hand over her mouth. Despite the gesture, she does not seem that surprised, and you arch an eyebrow at her. 

“I mean -” she stammers. “It’s not that I’m not surprised, I’m just - well -” 

You let out a chuckle. “C’mon, spit it out.” 

She sighs. “I guess I just expected it to happen some day.” 

You take your mug in your hand, lifting it to your lips. The cafe is quiet tonight - it’s a weeknight, so the only people there are students catching up on studying and people talking casually. You adore this place - it’s close to your apartment, the coffee is good, and it’s never too busy. Yeji and you regularly meet up there for a pastry or a latte, as you are tonight. 

“So you knew, huh?” 

“Knew what?” 

“That he had a crush on me.” 

She shakes her head as you take a sip from your latte. Her hair is tied into a long braid today, and although she looks tired from work, she still manages to look breathtaking. That’s just Yeji. 

“No. I didn’t - not for sure,” she smiles. “I just had a feeling. Neither of you are really good at hiding how you feel.” 

You sigh, putting down the mug. “I guess you’re right about that.” 

She gives you a sweet smile. 

“So how was it?” 

“The sex?” When she nods, your smile can’t help but widen. “It was good. Really good.” 

“Really good, huh?” she giggles.

“Really good.” 

You keep laughing, and you indulge her when she asks for details. You have nothing to hide, anyway - you know you need to open yourself up to people, and with Yeji it’s always been easy and mutual. That’s something you learned, sometimes at a bitter cost. It’s all right to give to people, as long as they do the same. Throwing pieces of you into the void - that’s how you lose yourself. 

“I’m so glad, Y/N,” she says, putting her hand on yours. “You look good.” 

“I feel a little better. And it’s not even just Chan, you know. I think… In a way, I think I’m relieved, actually. About San.” 

Yeji gives you the time to measure the words on your tongue. You think about your ex, the one who loved you, the one who hurt you, and all the things in between.

“He has someone. He’s moved on. I can too. To see him heal - it helps me.” 

You’re not even lying. 

It’s not that everything is perfect again - of course it isn’t. But you’re putting the pieces of yourself back together, slowly. Learning to love again - yourself and others. 

It’s been about a week since Chan spent the night at your place. Since then, you’ve seen each other a few times, sometimes just the two of you, sometimes with others. When he recovered from his cold you went for brunch. To see a movie. You spent a night at the boys’ apartment to play board games. 

You haven’t slept together again. A part of you wants to, but you’re not interested in forcing it. The only time you almost did was back at his place, but Jisung and Minho had both been there, yelling nonsense in the living room. Not the most romantic background music. So you just held each other tight, exchanged a few kisses. Chan played with your hair. You put your hand on his chest to feel him breathe. 

You and Yeji talk some more, and then you decide to head back home, as you’re both working early the next day. After a hug, you give her a smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night? At the party?” 

She gives you a surprised look. “You’re coming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Honey…” She frowns. “You know San and his girlfriend will be there, right?” 

You nod. 

“I know. That’s all right.” 

She smiles, puts a hand against your cheek. “Healing looks good on you.” 

It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever told you.

Healing is a complicated thing. 

Healing takes time, and healing is never a straight line. 

One moment you’ll feel you can take anything, and the next the ground shifts from under you and you collapse. 

You thought you’d be strong enough. 

You’re not. 

“I miss you,” San says, not even able to look at you. “I know it’s a shitty thing to say, I know I’ve been a dick, but… it’s the truth.” 

You did not expect this. 

You did not expect this at all.

You thought San was over you. But now, here he is, looking tired and anxious, telling you he’s broken up with his girlfriend because something didn’t feel right. Because he missed something. You. 

“I…” you stammer. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he breathes out. He’s tipsy, you know him well enough for that. His body sways a little as he shrugs. “I just wanted you to know.” 

“O-okay.” 

And just like that, like he hasn’t just dropped a rock in your throat, like he hasn’t just set off a bomb in your chest, he walks away. You stare at the back of his head, your fingers squeezing the bottle of beer in your hand. You’re glad it’s made of thicker glass, that it won’t crush under the pressure. Still, it feels brittle. 

You arrived at the party more than an hour ago, and you’ve been having a good time. You played a drinking game of cards, danced with Jeongin and Lily, flirted with Chan. The two of you are not together - but you’re not not together either. The night was going so well you barely noticed that San was not accompanied like he was supposed to be. He avoided you up until minutes ago, asking you if he could talk. Now you stand in the backyard, looking up at the night sky and wondering how your legs will be able to carry you home. 

You wish it would start raining. That would make more sense than the tears on your cheeks. 

You frown, shaking your head. You’ve been doing so well. Your heart was repairing itself, helped by Chan’s smile, by the strength you found in yourself through his eyes. After so much time in a relationship, you are actually enjoying some time on your own, even if a part of you belongs to Chan. He’s respecting the distance you need, never too close but never far. You like Chan. A lot. 

San misses you. 

You miss him too. 

Do you want him back? 

It would be so simple to fall back into it. Like letting your body float in safe waters, the current sweeping you away. Easing back into the comfort you had built together. But you can’t. You don’t love San anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore either. He’s just confused. He’s processing things in a different order from you. 

Right? 

Still, it would be so easy. 

“Y/N?” 

You turn around at the sound of Chan’s voice. It feels like a familiar song in the middle of a cacophony. He brings you back to that night, your limbs entangled on the couch, his chest moving up and down as he slept next to you. Being with Chan feels easy too, but it is more than that - it feels right. 

It also feels terrifying.

“Are you crying?” he frowns. 

You shake your head. “A little. It’s okay. It’s nothing bad.” 

“I just saw San walk away,” Chan says tensely. 

You can feel him getting angry, so you put a hand on his arm, trying to gather the right words. 

Chan sighs. “What did he say to you?” 

“Chan, please,” you breathe out. “Calm down.” 

“I just don’t want him to hurt you again -” 

“He misses me,” you interrupt him, meeting his gaze. Chan stops and looks at you. You can’t quite read his expression. “That’s what he told me. That he missed me. He broke up with the girl because of it.” 

Chan pushes his fingers against his temple. “That fucking asshole…” 

“Chan -” 

“No, Y/N.” It’s his time to interrupt you and you freeze on the spot. “I know what you will say, but that still doesn’t make it okay. He shouldn’t put this burden on you. Whatever his process is, it’s not fair to pull you in and out of it like he is.” 

Your mouth is dry. “I…” You don't even know what you want to say. 

“Please,” Chan says, taking your hand in his. The warmth it spreads on your fingers makes you realize how cold you are. “Don’t let him in.” 

His eyes are dark oceans you want to fall into. He looks so handsome, with his hair dancing in the breeze, his sharp jaw that you want to kiss. Those lips that were everywhere on you that night. Those fingers that held you tight. 

The pang of longing that passes through you makes you dizzy and you take a step back, removing your hand from his. You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. This is a lot. This is too much. Your lungs burn and your heart is being torn apart.

What you want. What you need. What you can’t help but miss. 

“Y/N?” Chan asks so delicately it feels like a caress. 

You shake your head, holding a palm up, not even able to look at him. “I- I’m sorry. This is just a lot. I… I need to think, I…”  

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll give you space. Do you want me to get Yeji, or anyone else?” 

You nod. “Yeji’s good.” 

“Ok. Ok. Stay there.” 

You let Chan walk away, and once you can’t hear his footsteps, you let your knees buckle. You collapse on the grass, bringing your legs against your body, the bottle of beer hanging pathetically from your fingers. 

You don’t know anything anymore. 

You’re mad. Sad. Confused. Torn. 

You look up at the sky, empty of clouds. There’s just nothingness there.

Why can’t it rain for once?

It’s been a few days since the party. Or you think it has. Time has been tricky, lately, twisting and turning in ways you didn’t expect it too. Days feel like seconds. Hours feel like weeks. 

Your head is laying on Yeji’s lap. She’s braiding it, the both of you watching your favorite show. You’ve seen these episodes a dozen times but you don’t care. It’s just so there’s noise instead of the deafening silence. Something to look at instead of the abysmal nothingness. Yeji made you sure you ate something. 

You’re going backwards.

A descent.

A regression.

Yeji calls it a bump in the road, but it doesn’t feel like a bump. It feels like a black hole sucking you in, tearing you apart at the seams. 

Chan is on your mind. His kindness, his eyes that understand you better than anyone does. San is on your mind. His comforting arms, his familiarity. You don’t know what to do. You feel stuck. You want to listen to your heart, but it has remained silent, like it wants you to make the decision. 

For now you have shut yourself off. You don’t answer anyone, except for Yeji. But then again, she forced the lock, sat you down and said, cry. Scream. Punch someone. I don’t care, but do something. You did all of those things. You cried, you screamed, and, well - you punched your pillow. 

Everything felt right. Now everything feels blurry. 

It was so hard to get yourself back on track, and now that you’ve derailed, you feel worse than before. It’s so stupid, too. They’re just boys. 

That’s what Yeji told you - and she’s terribly right. You can’t allow yourself to feel like this for boys. And yet you can’t shake the lethargy. So you decide to give yourself the time. Figure things out.

You owe it to the both of them.

Chan. San. 

Whatever the truth is, they deserve it. 

Yeji’s phone vibrates on the table in front of you and you sit up to let her answer it. Your eyes unconsciously fall on the screen, and you see Chan’s name. Your chest tightens and you look away. Yeji squeezes your hand.

“What’s up, Chan?” she answers. 

You can discern his voice, not what he says, and you try not to stare. Instead you grab the mug of tea you’ve barely touched and take a sip. It’s lukewarm. 

“I’m good,” Yeji says. “Just watching tv.” She pauses. “Y/N?” 

Your heart drops at the bottom of your stomach and you look up at your friend. You shake your head. 

“Yeah, she’s here,” Yeji continues. “But she’s asleep.” You smile faintly at her as a thank you. “Yeah, I’ll tell her you called. Okay. See you soon.” 

She hangs up, putting down the phone, and you wince. “Sorry you had to lie because of me.” 

“That’s okay, honey. I just…” She hesitates, but you nod, encouraging her to speak her mind. You need her to. “You know you can talk to Chan, right? He’s your friend, first and foremost. Whatever happened between you, whatever the feelings… He’ll listen. He cares.”

“I know,” you say faintly, playing with the blanket on your knees. “I just don’t even know what I would say. And if I see him… I’ll just get more confused.” 

Because Chan is a dream guy - handsome and kind, with the cutest smile. Because Chan will remind you of what happened that night, of the way he held you, of the way he made you shiver. 

Yeji smiles softly. “I understand. I just wanted to remind you.” 

“Thank you. I’ll try to text him later. I have to answer San, too, he messaged me like two days ago…” 

A sudden surge of anxiety overtakes you, and you breathe out. Yeji puts a hand on your leg. “Breathe, Y/N. One thing at a time.” 

“A part of me just wants to say, fuck it, I’m just going to be single, you know?” you chuckle, feeling the tears at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t need anyone. I’ll give myself time to heal. But when I tell myself that, then… I feel so empty. Like I’m making a terrible mistake.” 

You shrug. 

“The worst part is, I already know what I want,” you whisper. Chan. Chan. Chan. “But the past won’t let me go.” 

“The past doesn’t control you,” Yeji breathes, giving you a smile. “You control what hold it has on you. You have to let it go.” 

You wipe the tears from your eyes. “But what if letting San go is a mistake?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Yeji tells you. “Missing someone doesn’t mean you still love them, or that you’re right for each other. It just means you care. It just means what you had was real - and moving on from it doesn’t take that away.” 

You breathe in slowly, giving your friend a tight hug. 

The skies will clear. 

And even if they don’t, the rain really isn’t that bad. 

Rain is cold, rain is heavy. But rain is a thing of beauty.

You hear the door close behind you and you pause. The relief is spreading through your body. The knots, untangled. The wounds, soothed. This will scar - but it will heal. It already is. 

A part of you can’t help it - you turn around to glance at the closed door. Apartment 2B. You spent so much time there, loving San, being loved by him. It felt right to return there to have the conversation you needed to have. Both of you, sober, calm, ready. I miss you too, you told him. But we don’t love each other anymore, and we have to let each other go. 

I know, San nodded. Or I’ll learn to know. He smiled then. You were always the strongest of us. 

You’re not sure it’s true, but you’ll accept it. Strength is something you have, strength is something you grow. It’s not constant. It’s not even logical. Even strength can break. Even strength can be weak. 

You leave the apartment building. Poetically, the rain from earlier has ceased. It still hangs in the air, hazy, leaving the streets wet. As you walk, you watch droplets fall from the tree leaves, distorted visions of the city and sky in puddles. Your umbrella is useless in your hand, still dripping from earlier. You spin it a little in your hands, making the water trapped in it dance. 

You know exactly what you will do next. 

Your next destination is not exactly close but you enjoy the long walk. The sky has gotten dark, your cheeks are a little red, and your heart is spinning. But you know this is what you have to do. You know it’s what you want to do. 

Once again, it’s Jisung that answers the door. When he sees you, he smiles playfully. 

“You’re around here a lot these days, Y/N. I wonder why.” 

You shake your head with an amused smile, refusing to encourage him. “And you’re too curious for your own good, Han Jisung. Is -” 

“Chan here?” he finishes, his grin widening. “Come in.” 

You nudge him by the elbow as he closes the door behind you, following him to the living room. You find Chan there with Minho, holding controllers, the coffee table covered in beer bottles and snacks. Jisung sits back down, pushing Chan’s hoodie back to reveal a chaos of brown curls. 

“It’s for you, lover boy.” 

Minho gives you a wave as he drinks a sip of beer, his eyes not leaving the television screen. Chan, however, looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” 

You fidget a little, pulling on the sleeves of your jacket. “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have time?” 

“Y-yeah, of course…” Chan answers. He puts down the controller, standing up to meet you. Behind him, Jisung follows your conversation, not trying to be subtle in the slightest. “Is everything okay?” Chan adds in a whisper. 

You nod and smile reassuringly. “Yeah. Do you want to take a walk, maybe?” You are a bit tired from walking all the way here, but you’re not sure you want to do this inside. 

“Isn’t it raining?” Chan frowns. 

“It’s stopped,” you say, and Chan smiles. 

“Let me get my shoes.” 

You tell him to take his time, but Chan only heads towards the door and slips on his sneakers. You wave at Jisung and Minho, who you realize are now both staring at you suspiciously. 

“Ignore them,” Chan chuckles, putting a hand on your shoulder to guide you outside the door. 

The wind has picked up a little but it’s still not cold. You keep your hands in the pockets of your jacket, walking alongside Chan, who looks up at the now pitch black sky. There’s not much to see up there except the deep darkness - but perhaps Chan sees something you don’t. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You walk for a minute or two, heading away from the busy street into a nearby residential neighborhood. It’s packed with huge houses, large lawns, neatly kept trees looming over your heads. Once in a while you feel a drop of rain fall on your head or your shoulders, but you don’t mind. 

“I’m just coming back from San’s,” you tell Chan, breaking the silence. You know he was waiting for you to speak first - giving you the time to find your words. 

He glances at you, looking concerned. “Oh?” 

“I felt we needed to have a conversation,” you nod. “I did a lot of thinking since the party and I just wanted him to know how I felt.” 

Chan breathes out. “How did it go?” 

“Good,” you smile. “I told him I missed him too.” You give Chan a look, but he’s staring ahead of him, lips closed, his hands behind his back. “But that it is over between him and me.”

Chan looks at you then. Is that pride in his eyes? 

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you breathe. “That night at the party. And recently, not answering your calls. I just… I really needed to think.” 

“I know, love,” he says. The nickname tugs at your heart. You can’t ever get tired of hearing him call you that. “I never held it against you.” 

“And then I didn’t really talk to you, and -” 

“You needed to figure things out,” Chan softly interrupts. “You don’t have to apologize for that. You shouldn’t, even.” 

“But still. Things were good between us, and I’m scared I ruined everything,” you finally admit with a shrug, looking down at your feet.

Chan stops, taking you gently by the arm so you face him. He’s smiling, full lips curved upwards, his black clothes looking so cozy you wish you could cuddle up against him. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he frowns. “I mean, I don’t want to assume that there was anything between us, or that you have to -” 

“I like you.” It’s your turn to interrupt him. “I like you a lot, Chan.” 

He looks at you, and you let yourself get lost in his eyes. 

“You make me feel safe, and I have fun with you, and you get me. And if it’s something you want too, then I’d like to see where this could get us.” 

It feels good to let it off your chest - but it’s also much easier than you would have thought. You really mean it, you realize. Every word. Exploring a future with Chan is something you want, something your heart feels at peace about. 

You realize he still hasn’t spoken - but you’re not defeated by it. You just keep looking at him, smiling gently. 

“Please don’t feel like you have to answer now,” you whisper. 

He shakes his head and speaks in a whisper. “I’m just taking it in.” 

“What?” 

“You, telling me you like me back.” 

You blink in slight disbelief, letting out a laugh. You push your index against his chest. “You’re such a romantic, Bang Chan.” 

“Yeah, I am,” he laughs wholeheartedly, bringing you into his arms. You settle your cheek against his chest, your arms around him. He places a kiss on your hair, nodding to himself. “You better get used to it.” 

You stay like this for a minute, just breathing each other in, the wind swaying around you. You’re in Chan’s arms. He breathes alongside you. Your heart feels calm. Your heart feels free. 

“You know what I feel about you. It hasn’t changed. So can I take you on a real date now?” he asks, his fingers sliding in your hair, sending shivers through your entire body. 

You nod. “On one condition.” 

He leans back, finding your eyes. “Hm?” 

“Kiss me,” you breathe. 

He just grins, light shining in his eyes. His lips meet yours, delicately and lovingly, as if he wants to savor every second. You can believe it, because it’s the same for you. It’s a slow kiss, the kind that lasts for a lifetime, the kind you can’t ever forget. He tastes like trust, like the softest light, like rain that falls exactly at the right time.

You kiss for a long time, until your lips feel swollen, until your mouth is dry. Chan pushes his forehead against yours, stroking your cheek.

“How about we go home and get you warm?” 

You look up at him, your eyes twinkling in adoration. “Will you keep holding me?” 

He smiles. “I’ll never let go.”

Chan and you find the front door locked. He unlocks it, stepping inside an empty apartment. The bottles and snacks are still on the table, but the television is turned off and Jisung and Minho are nowhere to be seen. 

You remove your shoes, following Chan in the kitchen, where you find a note scribbled onto an old take out receipt. Out for drinks. Enjoy the empty apartment. 

Chan chuckles. “I guess they know.” 

You smile, wrapping your arms around Chan from behind. “I think Ji’s had his suspicions since I brought you soup.” 

“That was good soup.” 

He turns around, placing his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. Your hips almost meet his, making you feel a little dizzy. You place your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to slide them under his hoodie to feel his skin. 

“So…” you smile. 

“So,” he repeats with a chuckle. “What do you want to do?”  

You bite your lip, blushing slightly. 

“You want to… enjoy the empty apartment?” Chan suggests. You like his confidence, although you notice that his ears are bright red. 

You nod, stealing him a kiss. “I just want you.” 

He hums against your lips, his fingers digging into your skin. You take another step forward, decidedly pushing your hips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Chan tilts his head, his mouth seeking yours, and you can feel him parting your lips slowly. He doesn’t want to insist, but you let him, your tongue meeting his. Instinctively you arch your back, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. 

“I’ve been craving you so much,” Chan whispers. “I just want to feel you around me again.” 

You clench at his words, letting out a small moan that gets lost in his mouth. “Fuck, Chan…” 

“I want to make you feel good,” he breathes, kissing you again, and you can feel his length harden against your stomach. “Will you let me, love?” 

“Please touch me, Chan, I missed you so much…”

Just like that, he picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He starts to walk, never ceasing to kiss you, as he brings you to his bedroom. Once you’re there, he pushes the door closed, and lays you down carefully on the mattress. He’s warm, his muscular thighs pushing yours apart so he can settle between them. Leaning down to kiss you again, your head falling against the pillow, he grinds his crotch against you - and you can feel your walls throb. 

There are too many layers of clothing to your liking, so you tug at his hoodie and Chan understands the signal. He removes it and his t-shirt in one movement, letting you touch his chest freely. His jeans hang low on his waist, so you trace his abdominal muscles, let your fingers wander on his back. 

Your clothes are next, Chan kissing you all the while he removes them. Soon you are naked under him, one of Chan’s hands holding your breasts, brushing the back of his thumb on the nipple. You shudder, Chan leaning down to swirl his tongue around it, sending waves of pleasure through you.

But there’s something you want. Something that you’ve wanted to do, something you’ve been thinking about. “Chan -” 

“Yes, love?” he whispers, coming back to kiss your neck, his tongue leaving wet trails on your skin. 

“I want to taste you,” you breathe, and he looks up to meet your eyes. You stroke his hair, feeling a little shy. “Please, I can’t stop thinking about it…” 

Chan closes his eyes. “Fuck, I almost came just hearing you say that.” 

You both chuckle, sharing a feverish kiss. You sit up, moving positions so that Chan is the one laying down under you. His eyes are darker than ever, his lips swollen from the kissing. You can’t get enough of him, feeling almost drunk as you leave a trail of kisses down his chest, unbuttoning his shorts and lowering them. His cock bounces free, already hard, but you remove his clothes completely before you come back to take it in your hand. Chan sits up a little, leaning against his pillows, and he’s able to look at you. Gently, you palm his length, moving your hand up and down. Your thumb rolls around his tip, spreading the pre-cum there, and Chan grunts at your gesture. 

His fingers hold your hair back, his eyes never leaving your face as you slowly jerk him off, loving the way his cock pulsates around your fingers. In fact you are clenching around nothing, aching for pressure. But for now you want to take care of him - you want to show him just how much he means to you, how eager you are for him. 

You flick your tongue at the tip of his cock and Chan lets out a low groan, pushing his head back into the pillows. You smile softly, wrapping your lips around him, his moans dancing to your ears as you start to bob your head up and down. You suck him slow, teasing him with your tongue at the same time, attentive to the sounds he makes. Sometimes he twitches a little, or his fingers will slightly pull at your hair, and you know you’re doing something good. 

Your fingers leave his base when you try to take him as deep as you can in your mouth, feeling your lips stretch, saliva and pre-cum coating his cock. 

“F-fuck - Y/N - fuck, that feels good…” 

A single hum escapes your lips, but you do not stop blowing him, perhaps taking too much pleasure at feeling him lose composure. His hips buck, and you do not stop. You join the movement of your hand twisting around his base with your mouth, and Chan’s grip on your hair tightens.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - ah, don’t - ah, Y/N, stop,” he whimpers, and you move your head back, looking up at him with wide eyes. Chan takes a second to breathe out, and you feel his cock throbbing in your hand. “I’m going to come if you keep going,” he chuckles. “I want this to last.” 

You smile, crawling back up on the bed for a kiss, straddling him. “Was it good?” 

“So good, love,” he grins, kissing you. “So, so good.” 

You settle your drenched core against his cock, rubbing it up and down the length, moaning in response. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers against your ear, licking it gently. You whimper, desperate for touch. “Can I fuck you now, love?” 

“Yes, please,” you moan. 

Chan is quick to grab a condom from his bedside table, wrapping it around his length before he guides it against your entrance. Slowly, you push yourself down, his cock stretching you. You close your eyes at the feeling, the pleasure making you dizzy. Chan pulls your upper body closer to his, playing with your breasts as he starts to thrusts his pelvis, entering you deeper each time. You roll your hips, finding a rhythm quickly. 

It feels so good to have him close, so good to let yourself go. Your heavy breathing mixes with his, touching his chest as he fucks you, and you’re both lost in the moment, not exchanging a word. He enters you deeply, his thrusts both gentle and passionate. It is not quick, but steady, every movement measured. 

You fuck like that for a while, just breathing and moving with each other, until your pleasure starts to ramp up. You are clenching around Chan, who grunts in your ear, and he holds your waist, anchoring himself there to accelerate his thrusts. He’s fucking you harder, and you cry out his name as you come. He follows you quickly in his release, breathing your name, making you feel whole like only he can. 

Both you and Chan breathe out, bodies slightly swaying like in a storm, holding each other tight. His arms around you, your fingers on his skin. 

Lifelines. 

After a little while he kisses your neck, your cheek, your lips. You sigh because you don’t want to move, although you know you have to. 

“My love,” he whispers. “How about a shower and some food, just the two of us?” 

You smile, leaning back to kiss his nose. “Just you and me?” 

He nods. “Just you and me.” 

That’s all you need.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let the taste linger on your tongue. Just enough sweetness, hints of bitterness, the perfect balance. You’ve never eaten something that good, you’re almost sure of it. Chan, who is sitting in front of you, lets out a chuckle.

“That good, huh?” 

You let out a soft moan. “Best ice cream I’ve ever tasted.” 

Chan grins. “I know something that tastes better.” 

You push his leg under the table playfully and he chuckles, shaking his head, both embarrassed and amused by his dirty joke. You can’t stop looking at him. He looks so handsome in his fitted black shirt, just one button undone, a slim silver chain around his neck. When he showed up at your door wearing that, fitted black trousers and leather shoes, you almost pulled him into your apartment and abandoned the idea of going to the restaurant. But Chan had also been holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his eyes sparkling with joy, and that made your heart dance in different ways. 

“Pardon my French, but you look fucking gorgeous,” he had said, leaning in for a kiss. 

You had hugged him, giggling like a teenager as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, his other hand touching the fabric of your black dress, exploring the way it hugged your body. You had to push him away and take the flowers from him - if you let yourself go against his embrace you knew you would never make it to the restaurant on time. 

Chan had made a reservation at a fancy place, not at all your usual style, but he had once gone with family and had loved the food, so he wanted you to taste it too. 

When you leave the restaurant, your belly is full, your heart content, your soul even more. You stop when you cross the door, however. While you were inside it started to rain. It’s not a drizzle - it’s heavy, cold rain, falling down straight and hard on the ground. 

“Damn,” you let out, glancing at Chan. “Should we wait it out, or…?” 

Something sparkles in his eyes, and he doesn’t need to speak for you to understand what he is thinking about. You let out a nervous giggle, giving him a single nod.

Chan takes your hand and the both of you dash into the rain. You let out a scream because the rain is cold, but you don’t stop. You and Chan run towards the car, crossing the parking lot as fast as you can. He doesn’t let go of your hand. 

You run fast, it feels like you have wings.

And yet, it’s like time slows down. 

You glance at Chan, his eyes disappear in crescents, his laugh the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You can’t help it - you stop, pull on his hand and draw his body towards you. 

Under the falling rain you kiss. 

He kisses you back, his lips hungry and smooth. 

You slide an arm around his waist, and slowly, you start dancing. 

Chan bursts in laughter against your lips. He draws back, looking at you with tenderness spilling out his eyes, and joins you in the dance. For a minute or two, you dance under the rain. You turn, swirl, sway. You can’t stop laughing. 

You kiss again, and the rain starts falling harder on your heads, and even then you do not stop.

— the end.

Well, hello ♡ Believe me, posting was a surprise for me as well! But I found myself missing writing, missing sharing my writing with you, missing this. So here is the sequel that I once talked about, that has been written for a long time! I hope it's not too disappointing. I remember the writing of it very fondly. ♡ Please be kind as I haven't posted in forever haha.

Thank you for sticking around, thank you for reading me. I am so incredibly thankful. I don't think I'll create a taglist for now, so do not ask please ♡ I hope you enjoyed this, and please take care of each other. Love you all ♡♡

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

One step forwards, two steps back. You’re just not on the same page.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, making out, honey has a meltdown every time she thinks Bradley wants to have sex with her but very much wants him to want to have sex with her, bradley dislikes her fiancé, deception, also inaccuracies in the timeline of Pompeii and the telling of Greek mythology, 18+ minors dni, wc: 4.7k

…

It’s the last day of June. Under the table, his hand is on your knee and above it, you’ve started to memorize the delicate pattern his smile lines cast around his temples. A bottle of mostly empty Malbec sits between you, the centre of his lips is tinted a sweet red.

His fingers curl into your thigh, eyes widening in mock offense as he leans in close enough for you to inhale that honey, amber, cedar medley of his cologne. You’ve been meaning to ask him which fragrance he wears; it’s classic, it could be too strong but he seems to have hit the perfect balance when applying it. It makes you want to turn your face into the curve of his neck and fall asleep right there.

“Okay, now you’re just trying to upset me,” He taunts with a grin on his face, shaking his head in dramatized disbelief. His thumb has been trailing a complex pattern around the curve of your knee for the better part of ten minutes. “Come on — I taught you this two days ago.”

Something about the age of Cicero, the supposed master of Latin prose. You remember the lesson — well, you remember being present for it. He’s right, two days ago. Right after arriving in Florence.

That first afternoon, Bradley had seemed restless. Leaving Natasha behind, you had presumed. Being cooped up in a hotel room trying to study was the last thing he had needed, and you know that he likes showing you around. As soon as you had asked, he had once again found the perfect spot for your lesson.

The corner of your lips twitch as you think of being nestled away in that corner of the library with Bradley. On a beautiful day in late June, it was practically deserted beside the two of you.

He stares at you across the table, seeming to enjoy the show of you trying to think back to what exactly it was he had been talking about.

The smile tugging at his lips that afternoon in the library as he had kissed down the column of your neck, lips grazing the collar of your polo shirt, fingers bracing against your thighs politely. His voice deep, and low, respectful of the library’s standards, “His philosophical works were the basis of moral philosophy during the Middle Ages.”

You swallow softly, crossing one knee over the other.

Across from you, that brown hued gaze flickers briefly downwards. It’s hardly a scandalous dress. A soft pink colour, cowled in the middle, dipping just lower against the centre of your chest than you would normally allow. The summer heat, or this newfound feeling in your stomach — one of them has you practically glowing. From the second you stepped out this evening, Bradley has been admiring this dress.

Either way, when he looks back up, he knows that you think you just caught him staring at your chest. He might have taken a glance in that direction. Unashamed, he smiles again, more candidly this time.

“Is this why you were late back this afternoon?” His fingers stray from the safety of your knee until the chiffon material is curling between his fingertips.

Caught. The look spreads itself so quickly across your face that you couldn’t lie to him even if you wanted to. The class was given an hour to roam the city today after the morning lecture — you had been a short measure later than everyone else.

And here you sit, in your reason for being late, staring back at him like he just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

His gaze flickers down again, the conversation about your lack of attention and the dull topic of the golden age of Roman literature long forgotten, and brushes at the hem of your dress with his thumb.

“I like it,” Though the look on his face has already given that away, it makes your mouth tug at the corners anyway. “Should I have worn a tie?”

Malcolm would have worn a tie, and a jacket. You would have expected nothing less from him. Bradley is sitting opposite you in a faded yellow shirt made of something comfortable and not stiff — probably a linen blend. He has skipped the top three buttons and from your seat beside him, you’ve got a faint glimpse of the gold cross necklace he wears.

As well as the dip between the muscles on his chest, dusting of brown hair covering his golden skin and the constellation of sun-kissed freckles you’re growing ever-familiar with.

“No.” You answer him decidedly, tearing your eyes away from his tanned chest to look him in the eye. This time, he caught you right back. His lips tug at the corners, and he almost fights it, and then he lets his mouth stretch into a smile.

His lips are a set pink. You’ve never liked facial hair but him without the always neat dusting above his lip is unthinkable. Tonight, the two of you shared that bottle of Malbec. His mouth will taste of the notes of cherry and blackberry.

His fingers brush the underside of your knee, featherlight. “Let’s take a walk.”

It’s late already, now that the two of you have finished your dinner. Bradley’s already regretting making group dinners mandatory now that he finds himself having to wait until afterwards to take you out, but in this moment, he doesn’t mind. It just means that there is even less chance of running into someone that you know.

The city is quieter by the time he slips his palm into yours, an instinctual move that neither one of you will address. Your fingers squeeze against his. It’s not until afterwards, when he turns his head to look down at you quickly, that he remembers it shouldn’t all feel this normal.

He should be ashamed of himself; afraid of being caught with you. He’s far from it. He’s arrogant enough to know that his students will be getting drunk on cheap spirits in the taverna he left them at, and that he’s got you all to himself.

“What do you want to do?” He asks you. He’s got an idea in his head already, that he’s not so sure you’ll find as interesting as he will.

“You’re the expert.” You answer calmly.

He smiles like that was the answer he was hoping for, then pulls you closer and lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your almost bare shoulders. His lips press softly to the top of your head.

“I walked by a place earlier that I thought maybe we could stop by,” He explains as he starts to walk, looking up at the waning crescent centring the stars over the city. He doesn’t mention to you that there’s a little more to it than that. You follow his lead, looking up at the stars above these ancient rooftops. “Counts as school work in my book.”

You make a sound of complaint beside him, leaning your head back against his bicep and exhaling with a dramatic sigh. Without having to look, you know he’s grinning beside you as he curls his arm tighter around your neck and drags you closer.

“Be nice, honey,” He whispers jokingly into your hair. “Just give it a chance.”

At that point, you should have guessed that he was up to something. Tucked under his arm, wondering exactly which undertone in his cologne makes it so entrancing, you’re hardly jumping for joy when he leads you up the steps and into an art gallery. It’s the kind of art gallery that you don’t need a suit or tie to get into — so can’t be that impressive.

Pompeii is one of the few words on the poster board that Bradley whisks you past that you understand.

“We’re going to Pompeii in a couple of weeks, isn’t this cheating?” You turn your head to look up at him and he just shrugs, taking you in his stride as he leads you right up to the first floor. Despite this being a temporary exhibition, he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

He rounds the corner and tightens his hold on your shoulder as you’re met with a canvas featuring a rather blurrily drawn woman bent over some kind of seat, and a man standing behind her.

To the right of that is a woman pictured straddling a man, his head thrown back against the sheets. Bradley lifts his hand from your shoulder and tucks it safely over your eyes.

“That’s not what we’re here for.” His tone is almost soothing, like he’s expecting you to turn and run for the door as he uncovers your eyes again. The opposite actually, you frown slightly and tip your head to understand the angle of the oil painting. He guides you swiftly onwards.

As you pass by, you can see that this room is filled with similar art. Some of it is weathered, not quite preserved, or outright broken. All of it is erotica.

All too quickly, he leads you into the next room in the gallery and swiftly off to the side. This room is already filled with people sitting in chairs, and at the front there’s an older lady with hair down to her waist and glasses that cover most of her face.

“She’s a classicist at Cambridge.” Suddenly his lips are brushing your earlobe and he’s nudging you back against the back wall of the room. “I think you might like her way of explaining things a little better than mine.”

He turns his head towards the front, you turn your head to look at him. His way of explaining things is just fine. Still, you turn your head back to watch the lecturer, and lean against Bradley’s side.

“As many of you know, during my team’s ongoing works in Pompeii, we are constantly able to determine more and more about the neighbouring cities of both Pompeii and Herculaneum. On a visit this past March, my team worked primarily in a building: the lupanar, or brothel.”

You shoot a look up at Bradley. He drops his hand down to your waist and pinches playfully at your skin, making you jolt into him.

“Pay attention.” Bradley whispers to you, smiling towards the front.

“Lupanar in Latin translates almost directly to ‘wolf's den,’ and lupa, she-wolf, was a common term for female prostitutes at this time.” The lecturer goes on.

She’s an interesting woman, maybe around your mother’s age, talking about sex and phalluses and erotica with a level of candor that you simply weren’t expecting. The people in this room are hanging on her every breath.

She goes on to explain more about what sets Pompeii and Herculaneum apart from other Augustan era Roman cities. As Bradley’s textbooks prove, Augustan Rome could be somewhat prudish in the major cities. Essentially, with their seaside location and their distance from the eyes of the emperor, modern theories tend to lean towards the abundance of erotica being simply a result of the Romans getting hot and heavy in their summer homes.

Bradley would scold you for phrasing it that way. You’re cutting corners and leaving things out, but that’s the gist of what she’s saying.

As much as you’re enjoying the fact that he wants you, specifically, to stand here and see this with him — you must admit that you’re waiting for the point to hit you a little bit.

Brothels quite clearly aren’t your kind of thing.

Then, she gets to the point. “So far in the study of Rome, we have tended to interpret erotic decorations in rooms to be signals of a brothel. The discoveries we are making now, tell us even more so, that there was a safe space for sex inside regular homes.”

Is that what he’s trying to tell you?

You turn your head and look up at him, watching the way he listens to the lecture. He hasn’t even noticed you staring just yet, he’s so interested.

Exhaling softly, you push closer to him. Heat courses through you, uncomfortable like an itch. If he wants you to feel safe having sex with him, if that’s why he brought you here — you’re not so sure that’s a good thing.

When you close your eyes and ignore the speech being given, and picture yourself in that library two days ago, with that dark look in his eyes and his lips sucking at your neck… it’s a nice feeling. It felt good. You would do it again in a heartbeat.

When you think further back, to the night he knelt beside your bed and buried his mouth between your legs, it makes you shiver, but not in a bad way. In a cold and hot all at once, conflicted kind of way. That felt good too.

He feels good. His arm on your shoulder, his weight in your bed, the way it feels when he grins at you. It all feels good.

Maybe that’s not such a good thing.

After all, he may only want one thing in return. With this ring on your finger, what he wants is no longer yours to give away — you’ve promised it to someone else.

You turn your head and rest it against his chest, your cheek hugging the soft linen of his shirt.

“By 79 C.E., by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, Christianity had begun to usurp the formerly polytheistic Roman Empire. With the rise of Christianity came a clear shift in the way sex was viewed culturally. With conceptions of red becoming more obscene into the 19th century—“

“Bradley, can we go?” You tug at his shirt and break him from his focused listening.

He unwraps his arm from your shoulder and gently touches your hair, cupping the back of your head. “Sure. You okay?”

“Mhm. It’s just getting late.”

He seems content enough with that answer, taking your hand once again and letting you lead him down the steps. Each step you take, you know that you’re just one step closer to inviting him into your hotel room.

“I know I kinda threw you in at the deep end just then,” Bradley starts to talk, seeming not to notice the way you’re panicking at his side. “I just wanted you to see how impressive she is.”

“Yeah. She was cool.”

“Cool? — She’s a legend,” Bradley cranes his neck to get a look at your face, frowning as he feels you speed up and tug at his hand to bring him with. “Her studies into Greece and Rome won her a Nobel prize, baby.”

“That’s… impressive.” You wobble over the words, trying to give him what he wants in an answer. Bradley stops abruptly and tugs hard at your arm to make sure you do the same. You’re spun towards him sharply, stunned as you blink up at him.

“I know I probably should have warned you about the paintings, but—“

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You ask him.

Bradley notices the elderly couple passing behind you turn their heads and curses them silently for being just about the only ones around that would have even understood the absurdity of that question, then looks back down to you.

He stares, focused and unwavering for a moment.

“Yes,” He answers you calmly, still holding your wrist in his hand. “But that’s not going to happen, honey. Now, what’s the matter?”

“It’s not?” He’s surprised by the surprise in your voice. You see it on his face. He’s practically tracing his steps in front of you, trying to figure out at which point the two of you stopped being on the same page.

“I… baby, Your first time shouldn’t be with me.”

“I was going to say the same thing.” You exhale quietly, without missing a beat, feeling the panic in your chest start to drain finally. A different feeling pinches at your nerves, tingling in your chest that makes you fidget. Bradley stares back at you.

“Good.” He answers curtly. Maybe a little too quickly. He’s still holding on tight to your wrists.

“Yeah, good.” You try back, heat creeping along your skin and making your ears burn. You push onto your tiptoes and back down again, glancing down at him still holding you captive in his big paws.

He seems to notice at the same time, and swiftly drops his hold on you to instead hook a finger under your chin. “Okay, so you’re alright now?”

“Yeah.”

He swallows, then nods. As he turns away, he sticks his hand out for you to grab once again. For him this doesn’t change things — he has wanted to sleep with you and known that he can’t since the day you kissed him back in Verona.

For you, this is the first time you’ve ever heard him admit that he wants you. You knew, of course, by the way he touched you last week in Venice.

You slip your hand into his. Across cobbles, under the stars and string lights, he leads the way the short walk back to your hotel somehow without the need for a map.

This hotel doesn’t have an elevator, you climb three flights of stairs beside him and start towards your door. Heels along aged, dark wood floors. This time, your sole occupancy room isn’t at the end of the hall or on a different floor — it’s right in the middle. Sandwiched between the common bathroom, and Robin’s room.

As you open up your bag and dig for your key, you wonder how he’s going to say goodnight. After the time you had, you don’t want the end on this tone.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly, fully prepared to hear you tell him no. His hand reaches once more for the pale chiffon of your dress, his thumb familiarly trailing the seam at the small of your back.

“Yes.” You turn your head and meet his gaze over your left shoulder. He’s relieved to see you smile. A smile spreads across his cheeks, warm and flushed as the old door clicks open with a pained but compliant creak.

It almost looks like room service came. If Bradley didn’t know any better, he would say they had. The bed is meticulously neat, and all of your belongings are packed neatly ready for your travel day tomorrow.

“I feel like I need to explain why I took you to that exhibition.” Bradley closes the door behind him and sticks to it as you cross the room and sit on the edge of the double bed.

“Okay.”

“It’s not because I’m trying to fuck you.” Bradley wracks his hands through his hair, his back pinned to the door, his eyes searching the floorboards like he’s looking for his point. “I’m a little bit offended that you think I can’t do better than Roman erotica if I was trying.”

Bradley hasn’t tried to make any of this happen. It’s not like he sought you out. And yet, it all keeps happening — like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Still, his joke is enough to earn him a smile and a soft giggle at the same time. You lean back on your palms as your smile fades into an apology of its own.

Bradley takes a step away from the door and crosses the room to sit beside you. He opens his palm.

“If we had stayed, the end part of that seminar is about Greek influence on Roman culture — specifically Pompeii,” He watches as you rest your hand in his, looping your fingers through his. “I thought maybe seeing her talk might convince you to stay in school… in my postgraduate program.”

His fingers close around yours, squeezing softly as he turns his head to gauge your reaction. His worst case scenario was that you freak out — and that doesn’t happen, so his pitch is a success in his eyes.

“I didn’t even know you ran a postgrad.”

“It’s a research programme. It’s relatively new — I ran it a year ago, we didn’t get enough people enrolled to run in this year. Next year I have forty places and a waitlist. Mythology and Art; Poetry in Greek Culture.” You still haven’t told him no, it feels like that’s building to a yes.

Instead, your brows knit together slightly.

“I don’t know anything about mythology.”

“Yes you do,” Bradley argues. It really bites at him when you pretend to know less than you do. “Look, it doesn’t have to be my class. I just wanted you to think about what comes after this.”

“My wedding.” You remind him quietly. Now you aren’t looking at him, staring at your hands in your lap. He’s kicking himself for ruining the night but god, everything you say makes him want to argue even more.

“And after that?” He skips over the idea of letting you go entirely. It’s easier that way, to pretend that he doesn’t care that you’re still planning to get married.

“After that I’ll support Malcolm and—“

“Christ, is that what you want? — You want to spend your life picking up his dry cleaning and cooking his dinner?” Bradley stands up from the bed and paces away from you. Instantly, you throw your face into your hands and growl in frustration.

The thought crosses your mind like a camera flash. The alternative; seminars and art galleries, nights like this with Bradley. He probably doesn’t even get his clothes dry cleaned, probably just drops them all in the washer.

Your brows draw together. Bradley hates how often he has seen that wounded look on your face.

“I don’t have to want the same things that you want.” You croak out.

“No, you don’t, you’re right,” He won’t come any closer, he’s just standing there and dwarfing the doorframe behind him with his broad shoulders and long legs. He runs a hand roughly across his mouth. “But you should want something for yourself. Something that’s just yours. Something you care about, you know?”

There’s a beat of silence between you. At first, he thinks he has really ignited the fuse and that there’s a big argument coming. Then, all of the anger fades from your face and you throw yourself back against the bed, facing the ceiling and letting out a deep sigh.

“You think too much.” You mutter grumpily, draping an arm over your eyes and finally taking away the ugly warmth of the yellow-orange mismatched lampshade above your head.

Bradley agrees, in principle. This doesn’t stop him, though. He thinks again as he’s watching you lay there in the middle of the bed, with your arm covering your face, about how different things could be.

Even with your eyes closed and your forearm acting as a makeshift blindfold, you expect that he’s still standing by that door and planning out your future for you. It’s tiring.

With all of the thinking he’s doing, you expect him to have plenty to say by the time he’s done. Another lecture.

The air is sucked out of you as he plants his knees on either side of your thighs, grabs your forearms and pins then above your head. Eyes blown wide, you must look crazy. He looks beautiful. Smiling softly, inches from your face, his cross necklace spilled forwards from his shirt and dangling above your lips.

“I’ll stop.” He swears, eyes pooled with sincerity as his head dips with a soft nod. Your heartbeat thurs between the two of you; his thumb strokes at your wrists. “I’ll stop, if you just make me one promise.”

The playing field isn’t exactly level, here. You could be convinced to promise him just about anything when trapped with him looking down at you like this. Your lips twitch, but you won’t smile at him. One of his hands leaves your wrists, coming down to trail an index finger along your cheek.

“You’ll think about it. While you’re here, you’ll think about what comes next for you.” He’s gentle with you, leaning in close and kissing your lips chastely.

It’s just too tempting to roll your eyes at him.

Bradley abandons his hold on your wrists all together and grabs at your waist instead, pinching playfully as he scowls down at you. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

“Fine, fine — you win.” Your lips crack into a smile, taking advantage of the newfound freedom to drape your arms around his thick shoulders and guide him in closer. Compliantly, he kisses your mouth.

Your tongue pokes out from between your lips and wets the flesh of your bottom lip, coating it in saliva, capturing Bradley’s total and absolute attention.

He lets his thumb follow the same path your tongue had, your saliva coating the rough pad as he trails it downward and catches hold of your chin.

The doe-eyed look on your face, the silk of your skin and the soft sheen of saliva sitting on the pad of his thumb has his mind reeling with possibility. You’re studying him too, recognising that same dark look in his eyes, trying to place it.

“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that.” He whispers finally, his chest inflating with a deep breath, his throat tight as he finally swallows. Heat prickles at the back of your neck. Your eyes dart downward from his face, at his knees bracketing your thighs, and back up swiftly.

That’s it.

“Will you teach me something Greek, then?”

Teaching is truthfully the furthest thing from Bradley’s mind. The thought of grading bad papers isn’t even enough to stem the sudden rush of blood flow headed to his dick. He exhales above you, practically itching with the need to touch you.

The thing about Bradley is that he isn’t a stranger to casual sex, but he doesn’t sleep around. When someone has captured his attention, they’ve got all of him. He can’t imagine going out and finding someone to hook up with, but at the same time — he can’t keep spending the morning work time thinking about you with your hand shoved into the front of his jeans.

“Sure, kid,” He leans forwards and kisses your forehead, then rolls off of you and settles against your pillows with an arm tucked behind his head. “What do you want to know?”

You push off of your back, wrinkling your nose at his choice of pet name as you turn and settle at his side, laying your head on his chest.

“I don’t know. A myth.” You close your eyes and turn your face towards his neck. After waiting all night to do so, the first inhale is exactly what you wanted. You hum and pull closer to him. His hand finds a spot safely, almost platonically at the small of your back.

“Okay, uh…” He takes a moment to think, trying to remember his study material instead of the way your bare leg is brushing against his thigh. “I’ve got one. It’s from the second century… by Apuleius, in…”

You let him figure out the publication details, absently toying with the loose button in the middle of his shirt. It would be a quick fix, beyond easy to sew back on. You could fix it for him.

“So the myth is right in the middle of his book, and it’s there as an example of mise en abyme—“

You turn your head quickly, frowning disapprovingly back up at him. “Bradley, I just asked for a story.”

“Right,” He hums, shifting slightly and closing his eyes as he scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Fine. The context might have been helpful, but fine… The story starts with a king, and the king has three very beautiful daughters. The most beautiful of his daughters is called Psyche, and she’s beyond beautiful — rivaling Aphrodite kind of beautiful.”

Right before your head settles against his clavicle, fitting perfectly against the curve of his broad shoulder. Your fingers follow the wrinkles in the linen on his shirt. Your leg is hooked just slightly over his thigh. Glancing upwards, he’s already watching your fingers dance across his chest. His lips pink, his cheeks warm, his eyes flicker up to yours.

…

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