#I love this story a little too much so I could talk about it for days LOL

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[chilumi-shipper]

Soulbound

Zhongli x GN!Reader (Soulmate!AU)

Summary: Zhongli hated the mark on his neck, and he hated whoever the mark bounded him to. But fate plays a cruel joke, matching him with you, as he swore he would love no one else but Guizhong.

Tags: Angst/No Comfort, Short Story, Rejection, Hurtful Words, Hatred to Love

Soulmark - A mark that binds two individuals as soulmates.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Morax had always been frustrated by the mark on his neck.

A glowing, permanent part of his body that marks him tied to a soulmate. He thinks its stupid, for the love of his life was already in front of him, a gray-haired inventor that no carving in his body could ever stop him from adoring.

He finds it unbelievable that his neck is claimed by a soulmark yet Guizhong's remain blank, and he curses Celestia above for such a foul joke.

How could he be for anyone else but her?

When her dust settled in the field of glaze lilies he thought were incomparable to her beauty, he was utterly devasted, his clawed hands held onto his neck, wanting to rip the soulmark that had been taunting him for centuries.

How could he be marked for someone else while the love of his life laid lifeless?

He loathed his mark, everything about it, and he will till his last breath.

...

Zhongli deeply dislikes you.

You are a messy, silly, babbling buffoon.

An adventurer from Mondstadt that embodies the nation's will of freedom. Bubbly, carefree, and loud, much like a fellow god he didn't particularly like.

Despite of his disdain of you, your affection towards him never wavered. You filled his somber days with excitement as you joyfully tell him stories about your adventures, share some new recipes you've learned, even ushering him to talk about obscure Liyue historical facts that you've always found interesting.

He was much too proper to shoo you away, and his cold looks and short responses didn't discourage you to try to make friends with the man that peeked your curiosity.

Ever so slowly, you had pried open his caged heart, planting a small seed that was so distinctly you.

He would have accepted you, he would have seen you as a friend... and yet...

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint, familiar mark on your neck, revealed when you put your hair up into a ponytail.

Zhongli knew he truly disliked you.

...

"I don't believe in the marks either, Mr. Zhongli..." You reasoned with him, but his gaze still stung you with daggers.

He caged himself back up, ensuring that you could not care for the little seed you planted, no light would be able to reach it again.

His heart would not open...

No matter how many times he catches himself smiling at your antics.

No matter if he displays every gift and trinket you give him from your travels.

No matter how much he preferred your cooking over anyone else's.

No matter how beautiful you look staring up at him with your doe eyes as you confess your affection.

No matter how frustrated he felt at himself when he made you cry as he rejects your feelings.

Because, for him, how could there be anyone else but her?

...

"Do you see why it could never be you?"

You both stood in front of a monument, surrounded by various plants and objects you assume to be from friends of this ancient goddess.

"I bet she was amazing."

"She was perfect. Perhaps that's why I was not worthy to share a mark with her."

At this point, you were used to his words, how they praise her, how they degrade you.

"You're pretty great too, Zhongli..."

Faith places identical marks on the necks of two soulmates, and the rest is a romantic story of the passion that builds up as people pursue their marks of love.

Fate is cruel to you and him.

"That mark is not for you, Y/N." The Geo Archon says to you, tearing you apart silently, as you stand and take his words.

His heart quivers despite the harsh words coming from his own mouth. Even after millennia of having the mark engraved on his neck, after concluding that maybe he would allow your little seed to prosper even just for a bit, he still chooses to cling onto his hopeless past.

Tears fall down from your eyes, but you remain quiet, only nodding in agreement.

You loathed the mark on your neck.

...

Zhongli opens the cage of his heart a little, allowing him to peak at the small sprout from the seed you planted.

So distinctly you, it was the only thing he has of you.

After letting you leave him at Guizhong's monument with tears still staining your face, he couldn't help but miss you.

He couldn't help but let you finally take your place in his heart, after so long of hating his soulmark, hating whoever the mark tied him to, he fears he has finally accepted faith.

...

"Where is it?" He grips your arm harshly, his hold not faltering as you try to shake him off. His gaze was cold, yet you could still catch the hint of alarm in his eyes. "What have you done?"

After weeks... you return to him... missing something.

You winced at the stress of his words, feeling frightened under his tense hold. "I..." His bruising grip didn't falter, urging you to explain yourself. "S-Surprise...?"

"You..." Zhongli looks at you in disbelief. "How stupid could you be?"

"M-Mr. Zhongli... it's a blessing of the Anemo Archon... I prayed for him set us free from fate."

"Y/N... I..." He was at a loss for words, his heart ached as his eyes searched your neck in vain. "Fate... going against it is painful. It must've been excruciating."

"It was... but this if for you, Zhongli..." You smiled, feeling him loosen his grip. "Because I love... loved you." You fully free yourself from him, rubbing at where he previously held you.

The wind around him picked up, and he hears the faint whispers of an old friend along with it. Whispers of comfort, as he clearly ruined what would have been the light of the rest of his days.

Your soulmark fades, but his remains...

Zhongli loathed his mark, for it bears no meaning, no one but him bears that mark.

As you leave, trying to fade away in the background of his life, you remain under a spotlight in his eyes, for you will always be the one that shares his mark, no matter if it is visible.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

What y'all think of this one? :3

I bet y'all's feelings were hurt hehe

[m0onlustre]

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: somewhat enemies to lovers, smut, porn with oc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 5,8k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries. 

ᯓ Notes: Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

 “What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

ps; this story has the potential to delve into other parts, either of Sylus and reader in the future or of their shared past from the moment he found her. You can always comment and let me know if you'd like to see something more from this fic:))

[scarletcomalies]

Hear. Me. Out! Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,119

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

[tojisun]

(quietly) oh god thinking about kyle falling in love with his new neighbour.

How he was just going to crack open a window to let the breeze in only to stop at the sight of his neighbour and her daughter dancing in the rain, twin smiles tugging at their lips as they hop around in their front lawn, feet digging into the muddy parts of their grass garden, letting the water splash out.

Laughter trickles from the two, and it tickles Kyle’s ears, filling him up with such longing he can’t even put a proper name to it.

She is the single mother who moved from another country.

Why she settled in this little suburb, Kyle doesn’t know but he’s thankful of her because there are times when he forgets about many things—himself, for one; the touch of soft blankets and the feel of warm water, for another—but somehow he always finds himself snapping back to his body at seeing her.

At hearing her.

She is beautiful. She is beyond beautiful. She is—

God, how can anyone have that much fortitude and strength and love? How can anyone see the world so optimistically; so full of wonder?

“Oh, you,” she’d murmured, shy, when Kyle had told her of his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks at her quiet chuckle.

Kyle’s throat had gone parched—he has never felt this type of yearning before; one that makes him full even when he’s yet to eat anything. One that lulls him to a quiet sleep like his mind and his body have finally found their centre of gravity; like they’re no longer unyielding nor unforgiving. But kind.

Filling. Wondrous.

“It’s because of my little duckling,” she continued, eyes crinkling in her delight. She turned to her snoozing daughter. “I would have been lost without my darling Pen.”

She looked at Kyle then, smiling like he wasn’t just a kind stranger. Like he wasn’t just a nobody.

Kyle stares at the them now, his lips quivering as he watches them dance and splash and giggle to each other. Their laughter sounds like chimes. Like twinkling bells. Like what home sounds.

Kyle stares at them now, wondering if he could ever be part of their family.

(He already is. Have been, for a while now.

Penelope adores Kyle. So much so that she would not stop asking you when could she play agIn with the kind man next door.

She tells you that Kyle is so patient—not in those words, but she tells you that Kyle always asks more about her stories, and asks her who are her friends and which of her collection of toys is her favourite.

And Pen is still too young to understand the word ‘patience’ but she tells you how Kyle is nothing but.

How he never once rejects her tea time invitation, even if the tea is just bottled sweet tea and grocery store cupcakes that you were able buy that week.

How he never once asks why she doesn’t know how to tie her shoelaces, and instead teaches her time and time again. That he never gets snappy even if she keeps forgetting.

She even recounts to you how excited she had been when Kyle showed up for the dad-daughter dance hosted at her school. He’d asked for your permission then, going shy as he stuttered out his, “But I don’t want to impose and you can say no, I swear, and we can just ignore this and—”

“Kyle,” you murmured, your eyes prickling with tears. “I’d be honoured if you were there for Pen.”

He said something to you then. It was a slip of his tongue, clearly something he didn’t want you to hear, and you honoured his wishes but when a man like Kyle—

No.

When Kyle says, “I wish I can be there f’r you too.” What is the natural reaction if not to let him know that he can?

That you want him too?)

(Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He talks funny, like the many others in this new country.

Mama said it’s not nice to say that Mr. Kyle talks funny but Mr. Kyle is not angry. He just laughs with Penny, and says she should hear his best friend, Mr. Johnny, talk.

Penny is told Mr. Johnny sings more than he talks. Penny giggles at the idea of it.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He is warm and he always has toffee in his pocket for Penny.

He also laughs loud, like the one from the belly, and she thinks that his laugh fills their house with how loud it is. Mama said that Mr. Kyle laughs loud so that the monsters under Penny’s bed would leave. Penny cried and said many thanks to Mr. Kyle after that.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He…

He makes mama happy.

Not the way Penny makes mama happy. No one can make mama more happy than Penny could! But he buys her flowers and donuts and- and books! Adults are so weird.

Books are no fun.

Sometimes she wished Mr. Kyle can be her real dad.)

[ierofrnkk]

the sum of his parts - steven grant

Summary: You love Steven Grant, and there are some parts of him that stick out in your mind a little more than others. (~1.2k)

Content: 18+, gn!reader but reader has a vagina (no fem pronouns used), very brief & vague oral (f receiving), fingering, egregious use of italics.

a/n: This is the first thing I’ve really ever fully written AND posted!! Forgive me for it being vague and unpolished—I will get better!! I’ve just been so captivated by these boys after watching Moon Knight that I had to write something!

—

You love Steven as a whole, the culmination of all things that make him him, but it doesn’t mean that you don’t notice the little things.

The details.

—

The first thing you loved about Steven was his hair; the way that the curls were always pushed to one side, sitting atop his head like his brush had broken and he’d neglected to buy a new one.

It was one of the first things you touched when you finally had the opportunity to, making up some story about how he’d had a shred of paper stuck to one of his curls—he hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

You couldn’t get enough of the soft texture, even after months of getting to experience it. You had your hands in his hair every chance that you got.

When the two of you lay on the couch together, him cuddled against your chest as you watched the next documentary about the evolution of earth’s marine life, or something, you would drag your fingers through his hair idly. He would sigh in appreciation of the gentle touch.

When he’d be in a flurry early in the morning, racing to get ready on time before he missed the bus, you caught him for the briefest moments to smooth your palm across his unruly curls, taming the locks as best you could before he raced out the door.

When he’d settle himself between your thighs, mouth on your cunt like he’d die if you pulled him away, you’d tangle your fingers in those same dark curls, tightening your grip just enough to keep him in place. He always sighed appreciatively then, too.

—

The next thing you’d found yourself loving about Steven were his eyes, always wide like saucers and taking in every ounce of information that they can. The color of them always reminded you of coffee, but specifically the cups that he’d make for you in the early hours of the morning, perfect like no one else could.

You’re stupidly fond of the way he looks at you when you talk—it could be the most mundane thing, like laundry or dinner, and he’d be watching you so intently it’d feel like you’re giving a presentation on newly-unearthed artifacts in Cairo.

You remember the first time he cried in front of you. It was over something that seems so simple now; the two of you had made plans for dinner at your apartment, and he’d shown up late—through no fault of his own, the train wasn’t on schedule—but he’d felt so guilty about it that it brought him to tears. You can still see the way he looked in your mind: brows knit together, those beautifully dark eyes rimmed red and filled with tears.

He’d apologized profusely, and you silenced him with a kiss.

You like the way he looks when he’s half asleep, doing his best to fight his drowsiness to spend as much time with you as physically possible. His gaze is softer, somehow, his eyes half-lidded even with the way he fights to keep them wide open. That’s when you know he’s not going to last much longer before he’s out for the night.

When you’re kissing him, and you pull back for that brief, glorious moment, his eyes are dark, pupils blown with desire in a way that sends a wave of heat to your core.

You don’t miss the way those pretty eyes of his flutter shut whenever you touch him, even if it’s something simple; he’s touch-starved—not that he’ll ever admit that to you—so any physical show of affection is nearly enough to put him over the edge.

You’ve become familiar with the way he drifts, his eyes seeming to haze over and go unfocused—when he goes away for a moment—caught in his own reflection and watching as if there’s something else there with him.

—

You’ve quickly grown to become fond of his hands, in many more ways than just one.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to hold his hand all the time, to feel the warmth of his palm against your own, fingers interlaced with yours in the way that makes you feel like nothing could separate you two. He made sure to hold your hand at every opportunity.

You’re very grateful for that.

When he takes one of his hundreds of books off of his bookshelf, flipping through page after page as he looks for a specific section, you can’t help but watch his hands. He moves with ease and precision, stark from the way he’s usually fumbling or unsure of where to go. He’s in his element, and you recognize that.

When he joins you on your monthly grocery trip, he insists on bringing all of the bags up in one go—he’s trying to be helpful, even if it means making things more difficult for him; that’s just how Steven is. Selfless. You can’t get enough of the sight of him like that, though, with multiple grocery bags held in each hand, all while he does his best to navigate your apartment complex.

You remember the first time he truly, properly held your hand; he’d done it in such a Steven way that you couldn’t deny him. He’d gone off on some spiel about human evolution and something about how in ancient civilizations, the size of your hands denoted status—you can see where this is going—and he insisted the two of you compared the size of your hands. For the sake of anthropology, of course.

Knowing what he was getting at, you obliged, pressing your palm to his, and without a beat of hesitation, he laced his fingers with your own, a sheepish grin on his face as a result of his boldness. You couldn’t even be mad about it.

Of course, those hands of his are good for more than just holding yours or carrying your groceries.

—

The first time he made you come was with his hands; he was too impatient to even wait to fuck you properly—he just had to touch you—so, he did.

You remember the feeling of his hands on your thighs, shifting and adjusting you until you were in a good position for him. He had made sure to not be too rough with you, even in his desperation. Sweet, considerate Steven.

His hands, as fidgety and hesitant as they usually are, were precise and sure when he touched you. He moved deftly when he found your slit, dragging his fingers through the wetness that’d already gathered there.

It wasn’t long after until one of those same thick fingers pushed into your heat, then another. It’s practiced—efficient— like he’s done this for you a thousand times, even though you both know he hasn’t.

When his thumb had brushed your clit, with just enough pressure to send another wave of heat up your spine, you knew you were done for. He had looked at you with those eyes, pupils blown and eyes half-lidded, and you could tell right then that he was more focused on your pleasure than his own.

When you finish, you card your fingers through his raven curls, holding just enough to bring him close enough that you can kiss him.

He goes willingly, all sweet and pliant as you maneuver him closer, and you’ve never been more grateful to have someone like him.

—

Steven is much, much more than just the sum of his parts, but you sometimes have to put him under a microscope and appreciate everything that makes him him.

[charlie-thewitch]

Chapter II

"What are you talking about" Shen Jiu hissed. He does not have the time nor the willingness to entertain this clearly delusional man more than he already has. Honestly, he probably shouldn't have freed his mouth if this is what's coming out of it.

"Gege I know it's been like 20 years or something but you couldn't have forgoten about me, could you? This breaks Didi's poor heart" Said the other, batting his eyelashes like a little mistress asking daddy for a new dress and it's making him sick. Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

"You don't even know my name and this one doesn't have any siblings, so shut up. I'll fucking leave you here if you say another stupid thing" Shen Jiu walks to the corpse of the fat man with a grimace. He would prefert to not do this but the prospect of ruining a nobles day by liberating "the merchandise" is too sweet to pass after all.

Taking the sleeve with just two fingers, Shen Jiu brings it up enough to search inside. Dropping on the ground the knickknacks the man inexplicably had inside. Well, the money he keeps. Shizun is too cheap with her disciples and inns are disgusting while brothels are expensive. He'll need a good night's sleep after this and his prey will be founding it.

"We didn't actually had names" With the keys in hand Shen Jiu walks to the largest cage he can see and passes his founding to the frightened woman inside. Only when she understands what to do and gets to work opening all the cages on sight does he turn around to the nuisance still tied and sitting on the dirty ground. "What?"

"When we lived with mother; we didn't have names. That man-" He said it with so much venom Shen Jiu could for a single moment believe they were siblings after all. "-never let her name us. He was planning on selling us from before we were even born so she 'shouldn't get attached'. She fought him, naturally, but Mother only could do so much... He took you first, I was too sick to be sold just yet"

Shen Jiu is marginally grateful the other slaves ran as soon as they were freed from the cages because he doesn't need reports of what he'll do to this bastard to reach Shizun. A murder outside of the permitted by the mission will look so bad on his already muddy reputation. "Good story, you should write a book" He deadpans.

"It's the truth!" The guy pouts, as if that helps his case at all and doesn't just make him look crazier. "Gege could easily prove we are related with a talisman, couldn't you? I know fancy cultivators have that type of tools just lying around!"

"You want me to believe you remember bullcrap from when 'we' were, what, 4 years old?" Shen Jiu said mockingly

"Gege isn't even denying he was a slave like me" A curious head tilt and Shen Jiu suddenly feels like he's missing something, again. He hates that feeling. "He knows deep down that this Didi is saying something important." That knowing look is pissing him off, but he can't deny felling the littlest bit curious. The guy stole his face, that's undeniable. And a sibling relationship could very well explain it.

But is he ready for the implications? Is he ready to have a family, a fucked up one he is sure, but, family?

Qi-ge Yue Qi used to call them brothers but that didn't stop him at the moment of betraying him for a better life. Is this guy actually interested in Shen Jiu or is this his ploy to be freed? He already saw Shen Jiu give the keys to the others, surely there's no need for him to still be talking to Shen Jiu at all?

Shen Jiu could always just make the test and drop this guy on the streets if it came out negative and... And if it's positive that'll mean there's someone in this world who is his.

There's no way to change one's blood. He knows that very well. His blood may very well be running in this guys veins. An undeniable bond to someone, something unbreakable. This could mean he has a brother, maybe even a mother that... Loved him.

A mother. One that loved this wretched creature. Proff that he didn't came out wrong, twisted.

Is Shen Jiu being too naive? The simple promise of a past loved one has him doubting the most basic instinct of caring for no one but himself. Hope is an ugly thing he thought dead and buried years ago under charred wood and ash.

Shen Jiu returned his gaze to the young man, serious and grave. He can't believe he is doing something so stupid but one thing is true in all street children: If you can take something, do it. And never give anything back. "You will follow me and not say a single word to anyone. Understood? I will have to ask someone back at the sect for a blood testing tool" This guy wants to be his brother? Fine. Let him cope with his horrible personality. Shen Jiu is never diminishing himself for the comfort of others. Never again.

A sly smile is his answer, and he can't quite help the feeling he just got played. "This Didi will do as Gege says..."

Prev - Next (soon)

[spahhzy]

*knock knock*

Weiss opened the door to her home to see her sister standing before her.

Weiss: Hello Winter to what do I owe this pleasant surprise!

Winter walked into the home of her sister feeling a slight chill nip at her skin but didn't pay heed.

Winter: I just came to check in on you... you know with what has all happened...

Weiss: ...have you found out who did it yet?

Winter: No, Weiss, but I can assure you whoever stole their bodies will be handled with the highest accordance of the law.

Weiss gave a sniffle and hugged her sister tightly.

After a much lengthy talk, it was time for Winter to leave.

Winter: Do give a call to me sometime, dear sister, mother and brother ask about you a lot.

Weiss: Tell them not to worry so much, they have a company to run after all, no need to worry about me.

Winter: ...heh, it looks like he rubbed off on you after all.

Weiss: Hmm, I guess so.

Waving goodbye, Winter walked away, and a limousine awaited her, Weiss waved as her sister got into the limousine, closing the door her Winters limo vanished over the horizon.

*slam*

Dead blue eyes stared out the window before the curtains were drawn. Covering the whole room in darkness.

Weiss Schnee Arc breathed to herself as she walked calmly to a door marked 'Cellar' each corner of the door, having bits of frost on them as she opened it and blast of cold hit her face as the sight that greeted her was a staircase and darkness.

Pulling out a small piece of crystallized fire dust, she descended the stairs case.

-

'So where should we go for our honeymoon Mrs. Schnee-Arc'

'Jaune... you're going to be a father!'

'IM GOING TO BE a DAD!'

'BRING ME MORE OF THOSE DELICIOUS PANCAKES!

'Right away, sweet heart!'

'ARGHHHH JAUNE SCHNEE ARC IM GOING TO MURDER YOU!

'Look Weiss...look at what you brought forth to world'

'Elsa...our little Elsa...mommy loves you'

'Momma Poppa, look!'

'Very good, sweetie! Weiss look! it's you and me!'

'Such a good artist she is, aren't you, my little Elsa'

'I'm gonna paint mommy a winter wonderland!

'First day of school! Oh, I'm such a proud father!'

'Stop being so dramatic beloved, you must set a good example for our daughter classmates!'

'Momma Poppa, look, I got an A!'

'Momma and Daddy are so proud of you!'

'Hunny, I'm off to pick up little Elsa'

'Be safe! Storm is bad outside! Love you!

'Love you too!'

'The number you have dialed is not available-please leave a message after the beep'

' Ma'am I regret to inform you that due to the low visibility from the weather a pickup, tboned a car...they were pronounced dead at the scene Miss Schnee we need you to identify the bodies'

'Weiss...are you sure you want to transfer over the company to me and your brother?'

'In breaking news story...the deceased bodies of Jaune Schnee Arc and Elsa Schnee Arc were dug up and stolen from their graves...this comes two weeks after a fatal accident killed the father and daughter, the wife and mother refused to comment'

-

Feeling the temperature drop rapidly as she descended the stairs, Weiss finally came to a lone door in the darkness. Ice covering the whole door as she reaches out and grabs hold of the handle. The touch stinging a bit from the extreme cold, but it didn't bother her... not much did anymore.

With a slight grunt, she pushed open the door.

Their frozen in two chunks of ice were the dead bodies of her husband and daughter.

Weiss: I'm sorry I kept you two waiting... Winter had stopped by she seemed very well!

Only silence came from the two frozen statues.

Weiss: What about the company? I could care less for the company... when all I care for is right here in this room!

She walked to the two frozen corpses and before embracing them.

Weiss: Soon my dears...very soon we can be together forever.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Make Me Write ask answered

162 📖 for @inell!

---

When they arrive at the fire station, Eddie is indeed in rough shape. Scratched, damp, and wearing a heating blanket. 

“Buck, why is my dad dressed like a baked potato?” Chris asks nervously when he sees him. 

Eddie is sitting in the back of an ambulance, looking a little sleepy. The other paramedic - the one that isn’t Chimney - is talking to him. 

“It’s keeping him warm,” Buck explains. “Why don’t you go see him? That’ll make him even warmer.”

“DAD!” Chris calls out, heeding Buck’s advice. He picks up his pace a little in Eddie’s direction. 

“CHRISTOPHER!” Eddie calls back once he sees him. He hops out of the ambulance, dropping the warming blanket, and runs across the engine bay floor towards his son. When he reaches him, he scoops him up into the biggest, tightest, most loving hug Buck has ever seen. Buck honestly feels a little choked up, watching it. 

He doesn’t want to intrude on their moment, so he hangs back, holding onto Christopher’s backpack. After a minute of this hug, of Eddie speaking quietly to his son, he finally looks in Buck’s direction. He sets Christopher down, strides over to where Buck is, and hugs him too. Just quick, with a clap on the back, but it’s still a hug. It catches Buck off-guard a little.

“Thank you,” Eddie says emphatically. “Thank you so much for taking care of him.”

“No problem, really,” Buck says when Eddie pulls away. “Chris kept me in line. Made sure I knew the right answers to American history. Really he did me a favor.”

Eddie’s smile in response is practically glowing. “I owe you one, man.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. Just glad you’re okay.” Buck says. “Is Carla good? I couldn’t reach her either.”

Eddie nods. “Her dad isn’t well. She was visiting him today.”

“Oh,” Buck replies. “That’s… That’s too bad.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Listen, man, can I buy you a beer sometime? As a thank you?”

Buck… Well, for some reason, even though it’s totally not necessary, Buck really likes the sound of that.

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Yeah, that’d be great. My number should be in your phone from when I tried to call you.”

“Perfect,” Eddie smiles. 

x.

It’s way too much fun. 

Buck meets Eddie at a sports bar. They grab beers. Watch a game. It’s probably the most fun Buck’s had in a while. Without work or a kid in between them, they connect as just people. And it turns out, they connect pretty well. They have a similar sense or humor and like a lot of the same things. Eddie listens when Buck goes on accidental tangents about subjects he finds interesting. Buck is genuinely delighted with stories about Christopher. They just sort of… Mesh?

By the end of the night, they’re making plans to hang out again, and Buck’s stomach can’t quite shake a fluttery, swooping feeling. Something that he’s only really felt before… Well, on dates. 

Which is strange for Buck because, well… Eddie is a man? And Buck didn’t know that another man could make him feel that way. 

Which probably means… Something. 

xi.

Buck and Eddie manage to hang out two more times by themselves, and once with Christopher, even, before the world shuts down. And Buck goes from the exciting thrill of a new friend/maybe crush to working alone in an empty library, filling online orders, and putting them in sterile pickup areas, with nothing at all to look forward to. 

It’s awful. It’s depressing. Buck genuinely struggles to get out of bed in the morning for the entire month of April. 

His sister is pregnant, and she can’t even stay with Chimney because of the risk. She’s alone. Buck’s alone. Everyone is boxed off from each other. 

They keep in contact. Eddie and Buck. Text. Social media. Buck does a few virtual homework help sessions with Chris out of working hours. But it’s weird. It’s like they almost had a friendship or something, and it just kind of gets stalled. 

All the nothingness means Buck has time. On and off work. He has nothing but time. It reminds him of the early years of his undergrad, where the coursework wasn’t challenging or interesting enough to keep his mind busy. He’d had to find ways to fill the time. Partying. Drinking. Sex. Working out. Those had been his options, then. Apart from working out, he doesn’t want to replicate the rest in a global pandemic. Which means Buck is left with way more hours to fill than even in undergrad. 

And he’s a librarian. So… One of the things he does to avoid going crazy? He reads. He researches. He learns. And one of the things he starts going all in on learning about? Human sexuality and attraction. Because the distance from Eddie doesn’t make Buck stop thinking about him. Doesn’t quell the curiosity, the thinking. The excitement each time a notification from Eddie lights up his phone. So Buck researches, and he tries to figure himself out. 

So, in the middle of a pandemic, where everyone is quarantined, and Buck is completely alone, he discovers he’s bisexual. Stellar timing. Really great work. Had he uncovered this little tidbit of identity earlier in his life? Maybe he’d be quarantining with a boyfriend or a husband or something cool like that. Since he’s historically fumbled all the women in his life. Who is he kidding? He’ll probably be the same with dudes. But until proven otherwise, he imagines he’ll be very smooth.

So. Bisexual. Alone in his studio apartment. Living through an unprecedented global emergency. Kind of thirsting over a man he won’t be able to see for months, and who he doesn’t even know is queer, so probably has no chance with. 

Buck is frustrated. 

He learns to cook. He buys a variety of plants. Tries and fails to learn to draw. Impulse adopts a cat; a Burmese he renames Begonia. Her previous name was Princess and to be honest she is way too relaxed for that designation. 

Nothing makes the sense of restlessness building in his chest go away. 

xii.

It’s late summer by the time he and Eddie can hang out again. At a distance. Outside, on a hike. Masks on if they get any closer. Eddie has a higher chance of infection on his job, and Buck wants to be safe. 

They fall back into their easy pattern of conversation and humor. It’s like whatever paused between them at the beginning of the year picks right back up without any issue. And Buck is relieved. Relieved and excited. Like they’re pointed towards a direction he hasn’t seen before, but is desperate to discover.

Buck tells Eddie all about the ever-changing library policies regarding the virus. Eddie tells Buck about childcare struggles. 

“With Carla caring for her dad full time, and my Abuela back in Texas, it’s been insane,” he admits. 

“And no aftercare programs at the library,” Buck says. 

“Or anywhere,” Eddie says. 

“Man, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… Well, single parenting is never easy. But global catastrophe certainly adds to it.”

“Hey, if-if I can help…” Buck offers, a little aimlessly. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Is the library open to visitors yet?”

“Well, no,” Buck admits. “Soon, hopefully? But I mean, I can ask the head librarian - Janine - if he can, uh, sneak in. Masked up, of course.” “I mean, if he could. That’d be really helpful. He could do class from there, right?” Eddie asks. ”Only if it wouldn’t put you out!”

[whatdoyoumeanimacat]

𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘?

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - Yandere behavior, Kidnapping, Dead Doves: Do Not Eat, Stockholm syndrome (?), mentions of self harm

Author's note - I disappear once in a while and it's concerning I know but I promise I'm not dead :( (I will ALWAYS come back <3 Y'all so supportive *sobs aggressively and cutely*)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 more did you want? Why were you so cruel to him when all he wanted was to protect you? To help you? To love you? Was it too much to ask? Just a little love? You knew too well that he wasn't happy like he seemed to be. You read him. You saw through him the instant he met you. You tore the layers of his heart and made your way through in, sitting on the vacant throne. That wasn't supposed to be for a human. It's too dangerous. Oh well. It's too late now, isn't it? You're already buried 10 feet deep in his heart. There's no going back now. Satoru was hurt. He didn't know why your sweet little brain couldn't understand why he captured you and kept you locked up in his basement. Why couldn't you understand that this was for your own good? Or was it? Why couldn't you understand that he did this just for you and he was not being selfish. Oh, how could he be selfish when you gave away your world and understood him? He was used as a weapon. But you looked at him like a small, delicate little flower.

A human.

Maybe that was your biggest mistake. To the point that it made you feel like smashing your head against the hard concrete walls of the basement, he had kept you in. You didn't understand. Why? Why was he doing this? Why was he hurting you so much? Why had he kept you locked up to suffer? Sure, he had kept you locked up in a huge estate with lots and lots of luxuries, and basically everything you could ever want to everything you couldn't even dream of seeing. But that surely didn't excuse the fact that he had kidnapped you. You felt your life fade away before your eyes. Time passed by, days passed by, and you rotted in the basement, the only form of entertainment being the carefully programmed laptop Satoru had got you. Today, was another day of your organs slowly rotting in your body, as you felt your organs sink deep inside you. You mindlessly held the page-down button on the laptop, while Satoru clung to you, refusing to let go as if you'd vanish into thin air if he did so. You heard your stomach rumble, breaking the silence in the air, to which he giggled like a teenage girl staring at her crush. Not one bit was this funny to you. He had starved you for 2 days after you fought to get out of this nightmare of a house. "Awh~ Someone's hungry, huh?" He teased. Your eyes never left the laptop. You couldn't stand him. No. Not one bit. He chuckled at your expressionless face (which wasn't really expressionless. It was more of... numbness.) He chuckled. Of course, he didn't care. You're the idiot here if you think he did. Yet, he spends all of his nights convincing himself that nobody cares like he does.

"C'mon, baby girl. Don't be like that, yeah? I'll getcha some food, mhm? How about then? Will you behave, baby girl?" Oh how much you hated that tone of his. He talked as if he owned the world. Maybe he did. But he certainly did not own you. And that's where you're wrong. "Gimme 15 minutes, yeah? I'll come back with some food, hm?" You felt warmth spread on your lungs when you heard the word 'food'. Almost like a starved, abused dog. Maybe there wasn't much difference between you and a starved, abused dog. Oh, you poor thing. Only if someone was kind enough to pity you just as much as you pitied others. Too bad, too sad. This is not a story and you certainly are not the princess of the story. "Whatever...just get me something to eat." You muttered, your throat dry from dehydration. Oh you'd trade golds and silvers for a drop of water. He chuckled at your impatient tone, he found it cute, even though you’re just hungry and want some food. “Not to worry dear... I’ll be back in 15 minutes, alright? Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone~” You felt a heavy weight lift off your shoulders at the sight of him getting off the bed and leaving the basement. You swore you felt your heart lighten up at the sight of him leaving.

But the gods didn't like you and wanted you to suffer and carry the weight of all the burdens in this world. Satoru came back after what it felt like 2 seconds. “I’m back, baby girl- and I got you food~” He hummed. You felt your heart drown back in when you heard his playful voice. He held a polythene bag, with something inside "What did you buy?" Your voice cracked. You'd die for some water. Just a drop. What did you do to deserve this fate-? No, what did your poor little throat do to deserve such a fate? Being stuck with someone as unlucky as yourself. Oh, that poor thing. He sat back on the bed, beside you while you made an attempt to pull the bag out of his hold, only to fail. "uh-uh." Your lips instantly curled downward. "I'll give ya this, under one condition." Your frown deepened. "What." You questioned coldly. He chuckled at your response, he loved how annoyed and impatient you were. But that was only making Satoru enjoy this much more. “Come on now, don’t be like that.. at least I'm not making you beg- plus, if you want something, you gotta be nice and ask sweetly, no?~” He teased before leaning closer, his expression turned serious “It’s nothing bad, I promise. But, I’m just asking you to fulfill a certain condition.~" You hated that tone. That cocky, know-it-all tone. But your stomach couldn't care less. "What do you want?" You couldn't take it anymore. You were starving. It was all amusing to him, though. He smirked, his voice teasing, "Baby girl, you’re being too impatient right now. If you want it so badly, you gotta give me a kiss~" The visible disgust on your face could've made him laugh his ass off. Again, you felt like you'd die if you didn't have a piece of food on your tongue right now. So you accepted, leaning in and pecking his cheek quickly, noticing the tint of red while you proceeded to grab the bag from his hand, digging in. He chuckled at your sudden excitement for the food, you were clearly starving and it was kinda adorable to him. As if he hasn't starved you for 2 days. “Relax, I haven’t even taken the food out of the bag yet and you're already so eager to dig in” He teased as he began to take out the food from the plastic bag. “I got you some rice n' sushi." He watched with infatuation in his eyes while you gulped down the rice and sushi. You could feel your stomach warm up after you swallowed the first bite. Oh, how heavenly it felt. Nothing could compare to it. Or perhaps, he could. That was the exact feeling he felt whenever he saw you. He felt starved without you. A person dying of thirst regrets every single second he wasted water throughout his life. The first drop of water that quenches his thirst, feels heavenly to him. Again, to the point, he tears up and worships water for the rest of his life. That was the exact emotions he felt towards you. Such strong emotions, no? Well, it isn't wise to feel such extreme emotions towards a human being.

As minutes passed, you eventually finished all the food, completely and utterly full. Satoru leaned back as he spoke. “Are you finally done now, baby girl..?” He chuckled, and a fond smile crept onto his lips. “Took you long enough.. it was honestly kind of amusing to see you eat so fast like you’ve never had food in your life” You felt anger building up in your lungs. How dare this- this imbecile ask you such a question as if he hadn't starved you for two whole days? But you knew better than to start a fight. Yet, this was overwhelming. Tell me, just how much can a little human being tolerate? And for how long can it tolerate? You frown. "Why do you call me 'baby girl'?" You did not like him. He chuckled at your question. He knew you did not like him. "Why else? I’m calling you that because you’re just way too cute and adorable to not give you that nickname. I’m also calling you baby girl because you belong to me. You’re mine."

It enraged you. You were not some tool to be thrown around. You were a human. A kind human. You couldn't accept this from him. Not after being such an angel to him when everyone saw him as a weapon. I scoff. "Go find another woman who's willing, kidnap her, and torture her, let go of me." At this point, you prayed, begged, any god, any angel, any mystery being out there, to make him somehow fall out of love with you and find someone else to bother. Seems like this would start a fight. Time to say bye-bye to food again for a good few days, I guess. “Excuse me?” He spoke, his voice was low and menacing as he leaned closer. He was clearly pissed. “Who do you think you’re talking to, baby girl?” You frown, pissed as well. "Well- why don't you go out and find someone who fucking loves you instead of being a fucking creep and kidnapping someone who-" He cut you off. “No.” He replied firmly “I’d never let you go, baby girl. Not even in your fucking dreams." You let out a 'tsk', turning your head away as this slowly started to get heated. "Do you know how fucking sick you sound??? You are so fucking disgusting! why the fuck don't you leave me alone and find someone fucking else-!??!!" His patience was being tested and his irritation began to grow bigger than before. "Because all of them want my fucking money. They like me because I'm strong, popular, and loved. They all only wanted me for my reputation, something that I can offer them.” He paused “You’re different, you don’t want anything from me other than my love and affection.”

Now that's where he's wrong. You scoff. "GOD DAMN MAN- I don't want anything from you-! I didn't even know you properly before you kidnapped me-! We were JUST friends-! But you forgot. This is his house. His rules. You'd obey whether you like it or not. He looked at you with a dark, cold glare. You were starting to get on his nerves and he could feel the anger rising inside of him, like a storm brewing inside his mind. He was furious with your behavior. “Babygirl.. I’m going to ask this once. Shut. Up. Stop speaking before you say something you’ll regret.” He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his calm despite his boiling anger. But you knew you were hitting the right points in him. Maybe if you keep this attitude up for a few months he'd get tired and let go of you. Maybe. "OH YEAH-!? Now it's fucking bitter cause it's the truth! You just fucking wanted me because I wrote those pathetic goddamn poems for you TO MAKE YOU FEEL FUCKING BETTER-! I did it as a GOOD fucking FRIEND. If I knew you were such a MANIAC, I wouldn't even have GLANCED at you-!" It's true you were an angel to him. But that's the reason he fell for you. What if you were the same with someone else and they took advantage of it? No. No. He can't bear that. He could never. His heart would bleed to death. His anger was now at its peak, you just kept pushing and pushing and it was only getting bigger and bigger the more you spoke. “SHUT UP-” He snapped, losing his temper and patience “I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR WHINING AND COMPLAINING!” He had now cornered you. Be careful, this is Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

He trapped you between him and the wall behind your back. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that again, do you understand me?” He spoke with a stern tone “I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth about me letting you go." But you can't stop there. You can't lose this time. Losing gets tiring after some time. And you start to get desperate. You were starting to get desperate too. "I just was fucking go home-! Get out of your mind-! You're a fucking CREEP-!" He leaned down closer to your face, his voice raising, anger clear in his voice. “Did you not hear me?” He spoke through gritted teeth “Stop speaking. You keep saying things that are getting on my nerves and pissing me off.” What a nightmare. The proximity probably scared you. I mean, it's Satoru Gojo. He scares everyone. He's a weapon, after all. You instinctively squeeze your eyes shut, turning your face away. Your lips quivered as you managed to utter out some words, "I wish I never met you." Once again, what a nightmare.

He paused for a moment, his anger slowly fading as he watched tears stream silently down your face. Despite his boiling anger being replaced by a throb in his chest. “What?” He muttered, his voice no longer sharp and aggressive “What’d you say, babygirl..?” Oops! You've made his heart bleed. Not like it's your first time doing this, so I guess it'll be fine. But hey-! The guilt will swallow you alive, though! He looked down at you, studying your expression and watching your tear-stained face. He stared at you for a moment before he slowly spoke again, his voice now soft and gentle “Did you.. say you wish you’d never met me..?” The numbness in his voice was clear, he sounded like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard from you. Satoru loosened and stumbled back a few steps. He continued to study your face, his heart feeling a little heavy when he saw how fearful and afraid you looked. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt deep within him, seeing you this terrified of him. “You… you really hate me that much, huh?” He muttered quietly, his voice sounding sad and almost… hurt. He continued to stare down at you, his eyes looking into yours with a mixture of sadness and hurt. Despite the anger he had felt before, he suddenly felt a wave of a different kind of pain in his heart. He couldn’t lie, hearing you say that you never wanted to meet him hurt him more than he thought it would. For the first time, Satoru felt an intense feeling of sadness that he hadn’t felt before. He was conflicted at the moment; he knew he was supposed to get angry at your words, but seeing how frightened you were and hearing the way you spoke of him filled him with a sense of guilt and remorse. He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating his thoughts before he slowly spoke again, his voice soft and quiet. Despite trying to maintain his composure, there was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, “Is.. is that really how you feel?” He asked, his voice almost shaky “That you wish you never met me..?” Your silence stabbed his heart. He's a hundred percent sure even if he had his infinity on, he'd still feel it. No one had ever even laid a finger on him, except you, perhaps. This was his first time. We all have first times, no? He could tell you weren’t going to answer his question, judging by your silence and lack of response. Deep down, he knew what answer was, but he still desperately wanted to hear it from you directly “Please…. Please just tell me if that’s how you really feel..” His heart ached as he spoke, the vulnerability in his tone becoming more obvious.

"Yes."

His heart felt like it shattered into shards when he heard your response. Even though he expected it, the truth being said out loud still felt like a sucker punch to the gut. His eyes dropped down, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eye contact anymore. For the first time in a long time, Satoru felt a deep, sharp pain in his heart. He tried to keep his composure, but he felt like his walls were slowly crumbling down around him. Oh, how he drowned in his emotions. It felt as if a glass of boiling hot acid was poured on top of his delicate, feeble little heart. He protected everyone. Everyone and anyone. Known and strangers. Why wasn't there even a small ant to protect him? Why him? Why? His world shattered as he walked out. Oh how the poor little weapon of a heart cried in his ribs. It bled and cried and sobbed to be held by you, to hear your comforting voice, soothing voice, to tell it that you didn't mean it. Oh how that poor thing begged the brain to wake up, except, this wasn't even a dream to begin with. What did this poor little thing do to deserve such misery? Oh the poor little thing. But. Guilt is a monster. Satoru lay on his back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head. He hadn’t spoken to you for the past few hours, not a single word from him. He sat in complete silence, lost deep inside his thoughts. It had been so quiet the entire time that the only sounds that filled the room were his breathing and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The silence engulfed the room until he heard some creakings in the basement. Oh right. You were there, in the basement. His angel was there in the basement.

He sat up immediately, his ears perking up when he heard the noise coming from the room you were kept in. It was the first sound he had heard in hours, and he was curious to see what it was. Satoru swung his legs off the bed and stood up, walking over to the door of the room he had kept you in. He peeped in. He had chained you. He found you chained, staring out of the tiny window, moonlight falling on your face. Moonlight falling on your angelic face. Oh what a sight to soothe his sore, bleeding heart. You were singing a song. Your favorite. "Did you get enough love, my little dove, why do you cry?~ And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best, though it never felt right~ My Little Versailles~" The sound of your beautiful voice coming from the room caught him off guard, making him freeze for a brief moment. He stood in front of the door and listened quietly to your singing, feeling a pang in his heart when he heard the lyrics of the song. Little did he know, you weren't singing. This was the voice of guilt. The guilt took over your throat as you struggled to voice it out, in the form of music. "The hospital asked should the body be cast~ Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky~ Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth, Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?~ Shall we look at the moon, my little loon~ Why do you cry?~ Make the most of your life, while it is rife~ While it is light~ We're all gonna die~" Maybe the guilt tortured you just as much as his heart tortured him. Maybe you were really upset for saying those things to him. What a silly being you are. Being sorry for hurting my kidnapper's feelings. The person who tortured me. Maybe that's why he fell for you. Maybe that's why, you actually are an angel. His shoulders slumped as he listened to you sing the lyrics of the song. He could almost feel the sadness and hurt in your voice, and even though he knew he should be mad and upset at you for saying that you wished you had never met him, he couldn’t bring himself to feel that anymore. All he felt now was a mixture of guilt and sadness, as he thought about the pain he had caused you. He leaned against the door frame, still listening to your voice fill the room.

"Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head Was it all a disguise, like Junior High Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction Now, where am I? My fading supply~" Hearing the words about being in 'disguise' in the song seemed to hit Satoru harder. It was almost as if the song spoke to his heart, bringing forth the feelings of guilt and remorse that he had buried deep within him. It was perhaps what you knew about him. He hid his real feelings behind a happy, playful, flirty, and teasing facade. But, how long will a facade really last? With his eyes closed and his head leaned back, he listened to every word you sang, his heart growing heavier with each passing line. "Did you get enough love, my little dove Why do you cry? And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best Though it never felt right My little Versailles" His mind kept replaying the same words of the song over and over again, and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the pang in his heart each time he heard those lines. He continued to lean against the door frame, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. He knew he should walk into the room and confront you for how you felt, but he found himself unable to move, stuck in his place as he listened to you sing. "Shall we look at the moon, my little loon Why do you cry? Make the most of your life, while it is rife, While it is light" As he continued to listen to your beautiful, sad voice singing the lyrics of the song, the guilt and remorse inside of Satoru continued to grow like shadows in the back of his mind. The words of the song seemed to hit him harder and harder, making him feel a sense of pain and suffering that he had never felt before. Despite how he appeared to others, he had deep feelings that he hid inside, and hearing the song seemed to make them all burst to the surface all at once.

"We're all gonna die"

That last line of the song truly felt like it stabbed him straight through the heart. It was like a dagger being plunged into his chest when he heard the words spoken so sadly from your voice. Satoru gritted his teeth as he continued to lean against the door frame, his mind filled with a chaotic mixture of emotions that refused to die down.

"We're all gonna die."

He couldn’t take it anymore. The words echoed like a mantra in his head, making the feeling in his heart even worse. Without thinking, Satoru pushed himself off the doorframe and pushed the door open, stepping into the room to face you. His eyes were slightly wide as he looked at you, noticing the expression on your face. He walked up to you until he was standing right in front of you, towering over your figure. Despite trying to maintain a calm exterior, his heart was beating faster and his mind was racing with a mixture of feelings and thoughts. Satoru stared at you, trying to figure out what to say. For the first time, he felt completely speechless. The normally confident and composed man was now standing in front of you completely silent, his mind still reeling back from the words of the song and the pain in your voice. Perhaps his presence killed your guilt a little. You stood there, internally panicking. "I-I-....a-aren't you asleep yet...?" Satoru’s intense gaze focused on yours as you looked up at him. He was silent for a moment before he spoke, his voice deep and calm, but with a hint of melancholy in his tone “No. I wasn’t able to sleep.” He continued to look down at you, looking into your eyes, studying your expression. He could tell you were panicking, but he didn’t seem to care about that at the moment. Now this was awkward. You didn't know what to say or do. What was up with this guy...? Wait- that's right! What's up-! Wonderful. You nod, looking away. "What's...up?" Satoru continued to stare down at you as you muttered, his intense eyes still fixed on yours. He could feel a strange tension in the air, and he knew he needed to confront you about what he had heard "I heard you singing in here.” His voice was calm and steady, but there was an undertone of sadness and vulnerability in his tone. He stepped closer to you, closing the small gap between you and him. ”The words... you... said." His voice grew softer as he continued to look down at you, his eyes focused on yours. "Did you mean it?" What a weird question. Doesn't everybody sing just because they like the song?? We're not Disney characters, hey. But, just maybe. Maybe you meant that. Who knows. I for sure don't. "I....guess." You mutter. The tension in the air was thick. Satoru’s heart squeezed in his chest when he heard your response. His expression remained serious, but the sadness in his eyes grew a little bit stronger. “You guess?” He repeated the words you said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. “That’s not a yes or no answer.” Oh, come on. You sure were kind. You are kind. Your heart would squeeze at the thought of even giving someone a dirty look, let alone hurt them. What a sweet being you were. Guilt loves to engulf such sweetness. You tear up, frustration clear on your face. "Yes. I meant that. I meant the things I said. I couldn't say it to your face, but I thought the stuffs I said earlier had a huge impact on you. It hurts me. I couldn't bear to hurt anyone. To hurt you. Not after I gave all of my love to you. Not after I dedicated the life of my heart to shower you the love nobody ever showed you with." No wonder why he fell for me, to the point of obsession and beyond.

Satoru listened to what you said, his heart clenching at the pain and hurt in your voice. He was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice cracking a little as he tried to hold back his own emotions. “I… I knew you meant it when you said those things. I just wanted to hear you say it out loud.” He took a deep breath, his expression still serious despite the sadness in his eyes. "I've been causing you pain...haven't I?" Oh the poor little child. The poor being went through so much, you could tear up. Oh how much it's heart ached. You could feel it. It's a curse. Or, maybe, it's a blessing. Maybe. You slowly opened your arms. "Do you...wanna cry...?" Satoru couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The sight of you opening your arms, offering him comfort, was something he had never expected. His expression softened at the words you said to him, and he felt a wave of emotions welling up inside of him. “I…..” For the first time, tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill out. He let out a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure. Seeing you offer him a place to feel vulnerable and emotional was something he never knew he needed so badly. You nod slowly, opening your arms. Oh, that soft look of kindness in your eyes squeezes his heart so tight. Without saying anything else, Satoru moved quickly and crouched down in front of you, wrapping his arms around your small figure. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body shaking slightly as he held onto you tightly. Despite how powerful and strong he was, at that moment, he just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You wrap your arms around him, your abductor. You gently pat his hands, feeling the guilt die down slowly, little by little in your heart, leaving your veins, even though it wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. The guilt should've never formed. Satoru continued to hold onto you tightly, clutching onto you as if his life depended on it. He couldn’t hold back the tears that streamed down his face as he buried his face against your chest, letting out quiet, shaky sobs. Your hand running through his hair and rubbing his back only made him cry harder, as he realized just how much he had been hurting you.

"Shall we look at the moon,

my little loon,

why do you cry~?

did you get enough love~

my little dove~

why do you cry~?

We're all gonna die."

Satoru clutched onto you tighter, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head buried against your chest. He couldn’t control the tears that streamed down his face and soaked your clothes, his body shaking slightly as he took deep, shaky breaths. Satoru felt a wave of emotion wash over him, and in that moment, he knew he had completely fallen for you. As if he didn't already know. Satoru continued to sob quietly into your chest, his body trembling slightly as he held onto you tightly. He couldn’t believe how much he was crying, how much pain he was feeling, and how completely vulnerable he was in this moment. But at the same time, he couldn’t have cared less, as he leaned into your touch and let your comfort wash over him. “Please…” He spoke in a hoarse, shaky voice, his grip on you not loosening at all. “Please, don’t ever say that you wish you had never met me again…” He sobbed, and sobbed. The words that left his throat made your eyes well up with tears.

Why were you such a cruel being to a child?

You're just like your mother.

You stared at him with agonizing pain, unable to express any of it. But, what he did was wrong too, no? What he did was bad. Nothing could, and nothing would justify it. For god's sake, He's a child. What good does a child know? A child finds something it loves, and wishes to be with it. What is the child's fault? Is it so wrong to wish for something? What is right? What is wrong? You are wrong. The poor child wishes for some comfort, for some love. It's not like it chose to be born here. It knows nothing. The poor little thing needs someone to hold onto, who will show them the right way, who will show them love, kindness, patience. You were oh, so kind to every one of them who just took advantage of it. Why can't you be a little more considerate towards someone who just wants some love? You didn't know what was correct, what was incorrect. And if I'm being honest, I don't either. Why does it matter, though? At the end of the day, At the end of the time,

𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐞.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ

{ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴜʟʏ} {ꜱᴏɴɢ ʙʏ ꜱᴜꜰᴊᴀɴ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴꜱ}

𝙱𝙾𝙽𝚄𝚂+! 𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙴𝚁

© ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴏʀ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴘɪꜱꜱ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ >:(

[bucktommyfanfic]

A list of BuckTommy fics posted on April 8, 2024

These fics are carefully read through to ensure that they are BuckTommy positive. Any listed works do not feature character/ship bashing (apart from the Buckley parents or Gerrard, who do not count). These fics may feature other mature or triggering content, so please read author tags and warnings carefully and don't forget to leave some love!

Fic Recs - Navigation Page – Send a Message

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a bright side to this by @half-bakedboy Oneshot | General | 777

Tommy has to stamp down his worry before he walks up to Buck’s door. He’d only gotten the short story from a coworker who’d heard from a former partner that a firefighter on the 118 had gotten himself into trouble again.

Unfortunately, Tommy was immediately certain who that firefighter was.

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But 15 Seconds Later, They Were Clappin' Too by StarrySummers04 Oneshot | Teen | 1456

Bobby and Athena are having a little party to celebrate 5 years of marriage. Buck hasn't told any of the fire fam that he's bisexual or that he's dating Tommy but he really wants to bring his boyfriend to join them. How will everyone react?

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Every time we touch (I get this feeling) by @livelaughbuck Oneshot | General | 1466

Buck loves touching his partners, he just doesn't know what it's like to not be the one who gets cuddled.

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Eyes Wide Open by @inell Oneshot | Teen | 3365

Tommy drops by and wants to talk, which has Buck drawing some wrong conclusions.

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First Of Many Dates by JamieHarper Oneshot | Teen | 708

They go for drinks on a first date and Buck opens up about the kiss being a surprise to him.

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flaws by thisclose Oneshot | Not Rated | 548

buck and tommy cuddle and admit some things...

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go easy, kid (it’s only rock and roll) by selfmythology Oneshot | General | 1747

He’s about to head to bed early, ready to call it a night and sleep off the worst of the pain when there’s a knock at the door. He frowns but opens it anyway.

He’s not sure who he expected, but it certainly wasn’t Tommy.

“Hey,” he breathes. Even that one word aches on the way out. “What—”

“Eddie called me,” Tommy says by way of explanation. “Can I come in?”

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good place to start by kitthekazoo Oneshot | General | 807

Buck and Tommy's first date goes pretty well, Buck thinks.

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I'll Cover You by ALilyPea Multichapter | Teen | 2867

Buck had never found himself ashamed of his body, not once he'd begun treating it right and not like a temporary shell that would crack under too much pressure. But it was sometimes challenging to take care of, even when he did his best.

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The Imperfect Date by theonesthatreallymattered Oneshot | General | 1136

Buck wants his first date with Tommy to be perfect. It’s anything but.

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It might be worth it for once by ActuallyIntro Oneshot | General | 2922

For as long as he could remember, Buck hated being called Evan. Despite that being his real first name. His teachers, his mom, and even his sister would use that name and it drove him crazy. Especially when it was for something he did wrong.

But then Eddie Diaz stepped into his life and became one of the first people to call him Evan without the negative connotation. Then Tommy stepped in, and suddenly he became the second. But Tommy seemed to only call him Evan even when nobody else did. And strangely, Buck didn't mind. Like a light switch had flipped in his mind and Buck had no desire to turn it off.

The feelings were complicated and more than he knew how to process but he knew one thing. He was starting to like Tommy.

Aka, my version of a 3 times Buck hated being called Evan and 2 times he liked it.

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let’s get lost between the lines by @capseycartwright Oneshot | General | 2086

“You handled that well,” Tommy said, as they left the restaurant and stepped out into this cool evening air. His words were soft, and gentle – genuine, even. As though he really meant it. Buck was baffled, frankly.

“I handled that with as much grace as an elephant doing ballet,” Buck glared at his - his date? - incredulously. “Tommy, did you hit your head? Are you concussed? Do I need to take you to the emergency room?”

or, after the eddie shaped hiccup of their first date, buck and tommy walk and talk - about coming out and why buck deserves a nice boyfriend.

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The Most Natural Thing by @tabbytabbytabby Oneshot | Teen | 666

As calm and sure as Tommy might seem when he kisses Evan, he's still nervous about Evan's reaction.

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my family is yours by @half-bakedboy Oneshot | General | 709

“I can practically hear you spiraling, and I feel like that’s supposed to be my job,” Evan interrupts Tommy's, well, spiraling

“I’m meeting your entire family together for the first time. How is this about you again?” Tommy asks. Evan must know he means well because there’s a soft smile on his face and he reaches out to grab Tommy’s hand.

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oxygen in my soul by 2pretty_2die Oneshot | General | 554

Tommy kissed him.

Tommy kissed Buck and turned Buck's world on its head, in the best way possible.

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pregame by kitthekazoo Oneshot | Teen | 846

Buck gets caught snacking by Tommy before their date.

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Step 3: Slick, Sensual Showers by TrustDivineChaos Oneshot | Explicit | 1225

Tommy's eager to see this special showerhead Buck mentioned, but more than that, he's eager to see Buck in the shower. Thankfully, he gets both things he wants! It's sexy shower time!

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this is what it feels like by orphan_account Oneshot | Teen | 1361

Buck blushes. Always has. Gets flustered easily, ducks his head with a giddy, boyish grin at any compliment. It’s poetic, really, that he’s a firefighter because he flushes bright, fire engine red every time.

Still, though. He’s not sure he’s ever blushed as much as he does with Tommy.

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trembling on some new beginning by drcloyd Oneshot | Explicit | 2803

Buck enjoys the beginning of things with Tommy.

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[iloveelliefanfics]

Bela's sweet little thing ୨ৎ

synopsis: you're friends with the Dimitrescu daughters, but your relationship with bela turns from friends to... more

summary: mentions of nicknames, flirting, fluff, friends to lovers, wc is about 1k.

pairing: confident/flirty bela x shy reader (no pronouns used for reader)

story is proofread, i take requests

a/n: this is my first post, thank you if you take your time to read this! english isn't my first language so if you find anything that i should correct, please feel free to do so. pics are from pinterest!!

It was just a usual normal day around the castle. You befriended the Dimitrescu daughter's after a few weeks you had moved to the village with your family. Their Mother, Alcina Dimitrescu liked you from the very start, which was rare, considering how overprotective she was when it came to her daughter's. The summer breeze kissed your skin as you made your way to the beautiful castle to spend time with Bela, Cassandra and Daniela.

Although, you mostly spend time with Bela, she has the same interests as you, it made you two connect very quickly. Your shared love for music and art was lovely. If you weren't playing on an instrument with her, or listened to your favorite songs, you walked around the castle viewing the beautiful painting's they had hanging on the walls. This time was no different. As much as you loved spending time with Daniela and Cassandra, you loved every moment spent with Bela even more. Secretly, she adored you, so did you adored her.

Everything felt... Natural when it came to you and her. Every conversation, every second, every stolen look, every laugh. Little did she know she started developing a crush on you. Maybe you had too. You weren't too sure of your feelings. Lately you started feeling nervous around her, longing stares felt like you were going to blow up any minute if you wouldn't stop looking at her. She's too gorgeous not to look at.

You tried denying that you like her. That you really started developing feelings. Once you had realised, you wanted to act on it. You wanted something to happen so badly, but it's easier said than done. Even if it's just your skin brushing against each other's it was still... something.

She was stuck in your head while you were walking. Once you were at the castle, the enormous gates opened, revealing the three daughter's. They were always on time when you talked about catching a break and spending time together. They rushed to you, hugging you tightly. They are always so, so welcoming.

"Y/N, hi, you finally arrived! We have prepared tea for you." -Bela said with a huge grin while nudging you inside the castle.

While you were walking through the hallway and as the daughter's were chatting, you couldn't help but catch Bela looking at you from time to time. Once you arrived in the living room, all of you sat down, and started talking.

Hours passed, which felt like seconds. When Daniela and Cassandra returned to their bedroom, you were left alone with Bela.

"I have a few new things to show you, c'mon." Bela suggested and held out her hand to help you up. You accepted her hand with a smile, clinging onto her.

As she led you through the hallway, with intertwined arm's, you were lost in your thoughts, thinking how could you give a hint that you want to be more than friends.

"Y/N, you there?" she bumped into you with her shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"Huh? Yeah, just lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?" You ask, confusion visible on your face.

"Yes, I was saying that i had a new painting I want to show you." She smiled at you, leaning closer to you.

To make you walk faster she placed a hand on your waist, guiding you through the rooms and hallways of the castle.

"You look really pretty today, sweetheart." She complimented on your appearance, making you blush, by not just the compliment but also the nickname.

"Definitely not better than you, Bela" You return the compliment, catching her off guard. She turns her head to hide her blush, she's not used to compliments.

"Oh, returning my compliments, now, sweetheart?" She asks, confidently walking beside you.

"Just because i returned it, doesn't mean it isn't true, sweetheart" You return the nickname, making her laugh.

Her hand remained on your waist, guiding you in silence. You find yourselves standing in front of a large window overlooking the castle grounds, the sun is setting, its light still visible from the castle window, so you're still met with a spectacular view.

You notice that she's standing a little closer to you than she'd usually stand, as she likes to keep her own personal space. You gaze out upon the darkening landscape together, admiring it, wishing it could last forever.

"Quite the nice view huh?" Bela says with her usual sly grin, after taking in the views.

"Yes... Quite the nice view." You nod in agreement and you both look back out the window, watching the sun begin to sink behind the surrounding mountains. It's a breathtaking view, with shadows starting to fill the grounds as the light fades.

"Yeah," she responds, "It's a nice view, alright." She says as she looks in your way.

She looks over to you, meeting your gaze, a sly smirk still across her lips as she admires you in the fading sunlight. You notice now that she's standing much closer than she was earlier, less than a foot separating you two. Her smile grows, almost sultry, as she continues to look into your eyes.

"Although," Bela says, her voice just above a whisper, "The view right in front of me might be even more appealing..."

You blush, words stuck in your throat. Is it actually happening? You can feel your cheeks flush under her gaze, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Bela notices your reaction and her smile grows even wider, enjoying the effect she's currently having on you.

"No need to be so shy." She says softly, taking a small step closer, closing the remaining gap between you and her. Her lominous eyes never leaving yours, you get lost in her eyes. She brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your face, her fingers gently tracing your jawline. She can feel the heat of your blush as you struggle to respond, your eyes wide and your pulse beginning to quicken. Bela knows she has your full attention now, and she's loving it.

She let's her fingers drift from your jaw to your chin, gently tilting your head up to maintain eye contact as she closes the space between you two.

"You're so cute when you blush like that," She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, leaning closer to your ears. "It almost makes me want to keep teasing you, you sweet little thing..."

"Bela..." Your breathe quickens "Maybe i put myself in situations like this to make you tease me.*

You exit the window-lined hallway and continue down the dark passageway. The castle is quiet now, most of the maids have already retired to bed, leaving you alone in the dimly-lit corridors. Your footsteps echoing softly in the silence as you make your way to the art room. As you walk, she glances over to you, admiring your profile in the low light. She smiles slightly, enjoying the quiet moment between you.

You know," Bela begins after a few moments. "You never asked me what the painting is of," She points out, gently bumping your shoulder, "You just agreed to see it, sweetheart."

"Because everything you touch or make turns out to be beautiful. I'm always curious what you have for me, Bela." You look at her with a shy smile. After admiring the spectacular view, you make your way to the art room. As you reach the door, she pushes it open and gestured for you to step inside. The room is dimly lit by a few hanging lamps, giving the room a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

She leads you further into the room, towards a large canvas that stands in the center, hidden by a cloth. Bela glances at you, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"You ready, sweetheart?" she asks, her hands on the cloth, ready to reveal the painting. You nod slightly, a mix of curiosity and anticipation on your face. You also can't let go of the given nickname.

"Alright," She murmurs, taking a deep breath, "Here we go, sweetheart..."

she pulls the cloth away with a grand flourish, revealing the painting to you... of you. She made a portrait of you. It captures every detail of your face, from your delicate features to the way your hair falls across your shoulders. The paint depicts you in an artistic, almost ethereal way, the light from the lamps in the room casting a warm glow across the canvas.

She stands back behind you, watching your reaction carefully, waiting to see your response. Your eyes widen as you take in the image on the canvas. You almost don't recognize yourself at first, the way she captured every bit of your features surprised you.

Bela remains silent, standing quietly behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You both can feel the tension between you grow as you examine the painting, your eyes tracing every brush stroke, every detail, every small part of the image that depicts you...

"Well?" She murmurs in your ears after a few moments, unable to hold herself back any longer. "What do you think, sweetheart?" Her voice is soft, a hint of flirt in her voice. She's desperate to hear what you think of the painting. Did she capture your beauty? Did she do justice to your likeness? She looks at your face, searching for any reaction, any sign of what's going through your mind.

"This is... amazing Bela, wow!" You're left speechless. Instead of saying something you turn around and hug Bela tightly."

"Oh you sweet little thing, I'm glad you like it." As she was petting your hair, she pressed her face against your neck. She pulled away from the hug. slightly leaning to your face. "I'm so glad you like your very own potrait, sweetheart." She repeated caressing your cheek. She leaned closer to you, pressing her lips to yours. You slowly kiss her back giving into her kiss and touch. You pull away and look into her eyes, touching her face.

"I think i can say it now, I've liked you for a while now." You say smiling, with a flustered face.

"Oh you sweet thing, you could've confessed sooner."

[pikahlua]

there are accounts going around on X tearing the story apart chapter by chapter and page by page from beginning to end because they are unsatisfied with where the narrative went and how it ended. they are entitled to their opinion of course, but god is it tiring to see as someone who was more or less okay with the ending. miss you and your analyses, pika.

Some people just have too much time and negative energy.

What I've learned from this whole thing is that manga readers are in general a lot more critical and unable to be pleased than anime onlys. For whatever reason, the anime onlys I follow have no trouble following MHA and love it as it is. But so many manga readers...I don't know. Maybe they over-analyze and focus on every little detail (or lack thereof) to a detriment. Maybe I'm the pot calling the kettle black, but I always did those same things for fun and was always aware I could be wrong about anything I thought. As I've been watching the anime release, I've noticed a lot of themes and threads no one ever talked about that showed up by the very end of the story. Things make a lot more sense to me now. It remains to be seen how the anime only community will receive the MHA ending, but I get the feeling it will be a much more positive reception than what we've endured so far.

Anyways, @greenhappyseed has started releasing their thoughts on the ending little by little. You should go check them out for a much more measured response.

[space-sheep08]

Actually so tired that people mainly focus on the bdsm when they talk about La Pianiste when we literally have this dynamic right here. Like, that's insane.

What if you were a little girl in her 40's who couldn't grow up because of your mother-wife who made you sleep in her bed and forced you to repress every sexual desires and thoughts of becoming your own person just to keep you close to her ? What if you fought back and yearned for dangerous things out of her reach ? But also, what if you let her because it's all you've ever known and been taught to want ?

[2hoothoots]

Revisiting P2 since the docu epilogue dropped and your AMV (<3) popped up as a sign for me to ask something that hopefully you haven't already spoken about years ago: What did you think of the in-game psych explanation for Maligula, that she's the primitive savage part of the mind? P2 is a weird mix of sketchy Freud/Jung concepts that Tim likes meshed with modern psych, and Maligula's deal seems like something they probably wrote a lot of different versions of but never quite solved elegantly

yeah, i think you totally hit the nail on the head - it's always felt like one of the parts of the story that they couldn't quite give enough polish to before they had to finalize it and move on with development. like - i went to go get my artbook to see if it had any insight into the writing process, and did you know that Nona and Maligula being the same person was apparently added way later in development? that's wild! i didn't know that until literally right now! i may or may not have skipped straight to my favourite characters when my artbook arrived and then put it on my shelf without reading the whole thing

ANYWAY, retrospectively i think it being a twist that was added later actually makes a lot of sense in the context of everything you mentioned. the Maligula problem, to me, is the fact that they're trying to juggle a bunch of different things that she has to be in the story. there's Maligula, the ruthless big bad, and Nona, the beloved grandma, and if you suddenly have to also make them both the same person... well, it ends up being kind of a thorny writing problem to make that work, haha.

here's some art i made so this isn't just a wall of text, rest of the answer under the cut

i think one thing they could have done when they needed to rehabilitate a mass-murderer into a lovable old lady was pull back on either end of the spectrum. make your villain softer and more sympathetic, or give grandma a mean streak like she's one bad day away from a tragedy at the crochet club. and to give the story credit, i'm really glad they didn't. Nona is relentlessly sweet and endearing - and that's great! she needs to be in order to make the audience care about her, otherwise the emotional beats are never going to land. likewise, Maligula is a great villain, she's vicious and ruthless and at the culmination of her arc we see she simply does not give a shit about murdering hundreds of people. i love that for her, honestly, you go girl

but then, like - how do you connect the dots? how do you frame grandma having a violently murderous streak in a way that doesn't make the ending of "but she's over it now" feel kinda weird and hollow? and how do you do that while also being sympathetic to the game's themes around mental health? Maligula's informed by the traumatic things that happened to Lucrecia during the war, but she can't just be a manifestation of trauma, because the moral of the story being that trauma makes you a mass-murderer (until you beat up your trauma and shove it in a giant pit) would feel... really tonally dissonant!

so i think you're totally right that the sprinkling of pop-psych concepts we get ends up feeling a little bit like an awkward band-aid. Maligula's story is about how the horrors of war can shape you into a terrible person, who does terrible things - ...but there's also, like, special circumstances, so it doesn't feel weird that she goes back to being Raz's sweet grandma afterwards. special psychic circumstances! she's not just any war criminal, she's the fight or flight response gone out of control!

which - i dunno, i think that line in particular always stood out to me, because that's not really what the fight or flight (or freeze or fawn) response is, right? it's a temporary boost of adrenaline to the system to rev you up for getting out of a dangerous situation. an overactive fight or flight response is called chronic stress and anxiety. i know the games are pop-psych and not actual science, but it always stood out to me as a little awkward.

if it were me in the writer's seat - with the benefit of all the time in the world to workshop it, and no looming deadlines, and the hindsight of having a full completed game in front of me to think about - i might have tried to frame it around connection. i think you could swing the lens to instead focus on how violence, stress, trauma etc., make it harder to understand and empathise with the people around you. the tragedy of Lucrecia's story is that she came home to try and help her countrymen, the people she cared so dearly about. but the more time passed, the less she cared, the less she was able to see them as people. after Marona's death, the Maligula that remains is one who's unable to even care about killing her own sister. the alternative is too raw, too painful - instead, she sheds her last vestiges of remorse, and throws herself into the easy relief of violence. (we see this again, when Nona "awakens" as Maligula - when confronted with the baggage of her past, she chooses to wash it all away with force, unable and unwilling to care about the people she used to call friends.)

and i think shifting the focus like that ties it in thematically, too. a big theme (of both games, but especially the sequel) is how important connection is, how being able to understand and reach out to and rely on other people is a lifeline during hard times. PN2 touches on how there aren't really "good people" and "bad people" - everyone has the capacity to do wonderful or terrible things, and i think Raz's line to Maligula about how "everybody's got something like you" works. Lucrecia was never a monster, no matter how everyone tried to pretend she was. she was just a person, the same as everyone else - and just like everyone else, she could be pushed to extremes under the right circumstances. it just feels kind of odd when the implicit context is "everybody's got a mass-murderer hidden in the primal recesses of their brain", hahaha.

but like, again, that's the privilege of hindsight, right? i've definitely also been on the other side of the creative process, stuck with something i suddenly need to make work in a story and having to come up with a solution that feels like a band-aid. sometimes you just gotta call it good enough, and move on. and i think the game is overall much stronger for having Nona and Maligula be the same person - it plays into the wider themes, it sets up some great emotional beats, and i think it's overall well-executed, even if there are one or two hiccups in the writing.

anyway, great ask! thank you for the invitation to ramble, this is something that stuck out to me on my first playthrough of the game and it was fun to sit down and get my thoughts in order

[mabaris]

no youre completely right - im a gay (trans)man and i legit wanna see so much more about the women bc There Is So Little. I wanna make a lesbian oc who gets bent in half by taash. im very normal.

i’m just tired man!!!! it feels so obvious how disproportionate it is when you’ve got. a cast of characters that we know almost equally little about. and a few of them explode in popularity and it’s like spongebob sticking his hand out the curtain. literally all a character needs to do numbers is to be a light-skinned man