#anways please enjoy!!!!

[littlemissemeritus]

nsfw below cut!!!! feral cardi thoughts >:3

idk i might be rambling but!!!!! the way copia would breed you like there's no tomorrow has me gnawing at my enclosure,,, usually neat pinned back hair is curling over his furrowed brow as his leather gloves hold your thighs up so deliciously. he's fucking growling in your ear, unintelligible from italian or english as he swears to the highest power beneath ur feet with every roll of his hips,,, u aint stopping till his cum is dripping out of you (at which point he'll push it back in with a soft, "cara mia...")

[slavhew]

i draw myself a lot

[lesbijkas]

chapter 5 of Together (Dead) Lunar Interlude

OR: A check in with the Bureau, as Lup tackles the weight of a promise her brother doesn't remember.

[tryingtimi]

69/>:3

Hitman's Mistake

Would you look at that, I'm getting a prompt song like All Your Fault by YUGYEOM and I'm re-writing an old piece. It was a short one for a tragic love between a hitman and a woman anyway, so here's a Metalsea AU, my love. Also a reformed aesthetic.

METALSEA AU | HITMAN AU | MODERN AU | BLOOD | DISTURBING THEME | MENTION OF SUGGESTIVE THEME | DEATH | WC: 2,128

It shouldn’t have ended like this.

The black leather’s embrace tightened around Cronyl’s hands as he adjusted his gloves with his teeth. He molded into the shadows of the dimly lit gallery, leaning onto the velvety, red walls.

His fingers carefully held his cigarette, its twirling smoke lost in the darkness. He rose it to his lips again to scratch the itch in his throat, eyes never leaving the elegant pair on the ground floor.

Syonehlia wore the same blood-red dress she had during their first meeting.

A bitter smile crept upon Cronyl’s face, dried blood tightening on his injured upper lip. He soundlessly knocked his head to the wall.

“The deal has been sealed,” she purred on her even tone. He could hear her crystal clear, even from such a distance. “It’s your employer’s signature, is it not?”

Confidence. Delicacy. Fire. She had it all. She always had it. From that first moment which lived inside Cornyl’s mind as a never wearing out filmstrip. That first moment he could recall it anytime.

The job he was entrusted with that night almost felt like an insult. Its easiness stood close to the line where Cronyl could have felt offended. A luxurious event where the high-ranked crowd drowned themselves in gluttonous pleasures, leaving the biggest kingpin of New Eval staying upstairs. Alone. Barely guarded.

Cronyl’s job wasn’t questioning the perfect chance, however. He stayed there nevertheless, boredom accompanying him only as he waited for his turn; so long before Syonehlia approached him. He didn’t notice her right away, but she successfully chained his attention to herself with her platinum locks, her crimson, skin-tight silk dress, and her sharp gaze in the end.

She wore the look of a lady with the eyes of a predator.

Cronyl could still point out all the places her lips traced around his body that night. He gave himself up to her without hesitation, right after he let the kingpin's head hit the table, his throat precisely sliced up in the adjacent room he used as an office. Syonehlia might have treasured resentment towards him for being the one who killed his uncle. Although, if she did, he never saw it on her.

He, the lone exterminator, gained his first, single weakness that night.

Cronyl’s half-smile still tugged the corner of his lips as he squatted down in the darkness. The remnants of his cigarette burned his fingers under the gloves as he inhaled more of the grey stench.

“It is, Mrs. Eval. I must assure you, however, that my employer never has seen these papers. The arrangement does not exist, therefore your demand is not executable.” Eldnar might have worn the same tuxedo as Cronyl, but he couldn’t dress up his manners as finely. He did not try to sound sheepish, even a bit.

And that did its job.

Syonehlia’s curving figure brightened under the chandelier’s prismatic light where her dress showed skin. She didn’t seem pleased with the answer, taking out a cigarette of her own. Her confidence never faltered, however.

It reminded Cronyl of how she was never against his profession. In fact, after every exhausting mission, he stumbled home, bloodied and injured; she gently took his hand and lured him into the bedroom, not taking no for an answer. Only one thing was more heated than their love-makings. Their arguments.

Cronyl absent-mindedly scoffed, grazing over a wound at his eyebrow with the back of his thumb. He got that from the time when she threw a plate at him. A silent breath of giggle bubbled up in his throat as he let his head hang between his shoulders. He pinched the cigarette stub between his fingers, twirled and inspected it, then, eventually stubbed out on the corps’ palm beside him.

He dragged this body upstairs, so he could seat it here. As if it was watching the scene that was happening. As if he was watching it.

The dead man’s long, red hair almost hid half of his ruined face. Cronyl stretched his gloved fingers, feeling the injuries on his knuckles still throbbing with a faint wave of pain. The same blood stained it as the one painting over the man’s face; Cronyl couldn’t tell if it was his or the man’s anymore. He carelessly started fistfights with the guards outside the building as well, but they never stood a chance. It easily could have been a mistake, still.

This physicality wasn’t foreign to Cronyl, in contrast with the situation. He didn’t know where everything went wrong.

Syonehlia knew what being with him meant. To be the lover of a hitman required eternal loyalty and the responsibility of understanding his profession. It meant never-ending danger. She still fought with him over it, not less fierce than a lion with its mate. Not once. Cronyl have sworn her he can protect her and that any of his workmates would do it for him too, but they both knew it was a half-truth. A lover was their own responsibility, and theirs only.

Cronyl would have risked it anytime, nonetheless.

Tension tightened his muscles as he clenched one of his fists and forcefully stretched his neck down. Then, he run his fingers through his long, black hair, not paying close attention to the discourse down there. Instead, he fixated on the redhead’s body, its peaceful face that carried no more satisfied, smug-looking expressions. His ice-cold skin burnt with a nauseating stench where he stubbed his cigarette. On that palm that Cronyl would have skinned it, preferably.

He wasn’t a butcher, however.

“You're the representative of your employer, Mr. Rowan. You must have the liberty to make the right decision on your own. I’m sure we can come to an agreement when my husband arrives back.” Syonehlia gracefully brought the cigarette between her lips, her eyes sparkling with authority and a glimpse of voluptuous might.

Cronyl set his jaw, his bone barely bearing the force without cracking. He stepped and turned on the dead Urien’s lifeless hand as he adjusted himself to reach into his hidden pocket on his jacket; the crunching sound of the movement getting lost in the vast space. Fine silk grazed his gloved fingers as he pulled out a golden bullet with two letters carved into it.

He was sitting in his armchair, wobbling on the edge of insobriety when he received this bullet. It was the night of their most ferocious quarrel. They went too far too quickly, the things they threw at each other heads were beyond painful. And they were well aware of it. She stormed out of the apartment the moment Cronyl uttered the words: “Go then, no one forced you to stay. It was your own choice.” The words echoed in Cronyl’s mind as a neverending record. Syonehlia made him weak, which his lack of self-control displayed perfectly. He never burst out like that. He never became such a twisted version of himself. He was raised as a hitman, he could never have afforded emotions like that. He was warned to be careful.

He did refuse their teachings, still.

He made a lethal mistake; let Syonehlia give him a soul. In that very moment, where she showed up hours later their argument, curled into his lap despite his impossibly tensed state, and pulled out the golden bullet with the letters of her name on it.

This is the pledge of my loyalty, she said. Keep it over your heart, but use it only one time, she said. And she vowed to him that time never comes.

Cronyl took out his revolver along with his silencer. He proficiently fitted at the weapon, not paying real attention. His focus was drawn back to Urien’s body, instead. At that hand, he saw him caress her thigh as she sat beside him at the meeting. At that red hair that was tugged back, when she laced her fingers into it.

Cronyl bit back an awful curse as his fingers slipped off of the revolver when the silencer clicked in place. He run his hand over his face, while he stood up, looking over Eldnar.

The man was staring right at him.

And so Cronyl grabbed the edge of the handrail, climbed out, then down on it with ease so he could hang by his free arm only. He lingered in place for a moment to stabilize his body before he let go of the stone and landed softly on his toes.

The thud he landed with sounded muffled enough to not gain Syonehlia’s attention. He lifted his revolver, his aim precise. Right in the middle of her pretty head.

Cronyl was ready and yet, he did the only thing he never should have done in his entire life.

Hesitated.

“Why?” he uttered, his voice raw and raspy. “Why, why, why?”

He could have repeated it a hundred times. He wanted to. Still, this was enough to make Syonehlia’s poised shoulders tense immediately.

She slowly turned to him, while Eldnar beside her calmly took a drag of his cigarette and quietly walked towards the window. Leaving the two of them by themselves.

Cronyl’s throat tightened, his eyes burning as wildfire when she finally faced him again. He couldn’t see shock or surprise in her gaze, really. Instead, he saw something else entirely.

She took a small breath.

“You’ve caged me.” She knew it. She needed to know.

“Bullshit.”

“You’ve made me paranoid,” she continued. She needed to know he killed Urien. Her husband.

“Lie.”

“I’ve become this, because of you!”

“Enough!” he screamed.

He screamed at her; he never has done that once and yet now, he screamed at her.

He wanted to yell why, again and again, and again. He heard these excuses thousands of times now, but none of it was good enough. He needed something else. She should have answered him properly. At last.

Yet, when he looked at her, Syonehlia was not about to say anything. She just stood there motionless, delicate dress hugging the body he knew better than his own, pale fingers that made his knees weak with a touch laced together and the gaze that bewitched him from the first moment sparkling with anything but resignation.

The trigger burnt under his finger, his tears soaking his face feeling unreal, and the woman he was facing foreign.

Cronyl almost flinched from the muffled sound of gunshot.

Syonehlia fell to the ground with a thud, no grace hidden in the motion. A whimper scratched the pit of his throat as he walked over her steadily. He pushed it back into his gut, however.

When he reached her, he squatted down and gently brushed her platinum hair out of her face. Blood as a tiny river began to stream out from the bullethole. The wedged-in gold ruined her skin, and the blood slowly painted her face from pale pearl to mellow pink.

Yet, she seemed so peaceful finally.

Cronyl caressed her cheek the same way he did the first night they spent together. Then, he stroked her hair and ultimately led his hand to the bullet. He didn’t close his eyes, nor turned his head towards the chandelier as he yanked the bullet out of her skin with one swift pull.

“My condolences,” Eldnar started, his voice flat, but honest. He walked into Cronyl’s peripheral vision, stopping far enough from the pooling blood on the carpet. “What’s next, boss?”

Cronyl brushed the blood off of the deformed bullet to reveal the letters. They remained readable.

He sighed, thinking, then pulled out the empty chain he wore around his neck. With adept movements, he attached the bullet to his necklace, strong enough to never lose it. He pulled on it to test its strength; it was solid and it fit perfectly.

Cronyl stood up, touching the bullet as it fell upon his chest.

He kept it as a reminder. A reminder of the time he had a soul. Of that, he gained it only so she could rip it out with excruciating pain. Of that, to love is a weakness. Of that, he was weak once.

Of that, a hitman couldn’t afford such mistakes.

Cronyl adjusted his jacket, his face itching from the long-dried blood. His chest hollowed, emptiness echoing inside. As it should have been.

He shot a stone-cold glance at Eldnar.

“The rest of them,” he stated, while his mind still wandered back into that moment for a grave second; the moment his eyes caught that blood-red dress.

It shouldn’t have ended like this.

[unitedhamilton]

Leaked

Summary: Texts between you and Lewis get leaked on Twitter.

A/N: I'M BACKKKK!!! I went on vacation and wasn't in the mood to write anything. ANWAYS... PLEASE ignore the watermark on the texts. I'm still trying to find a good website/app to use. Reblogs are always appreciated!! Enjoy lovelies 💜

Meanwhile...

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx

pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!

a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!

"you fuckin' thief.."

shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.

lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.

it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!

..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !

and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.

"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."

"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."

"and all this time.."

"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.

"it's been fucking YOU ?!"

and he pounces.

with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.

it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less

“you’re. so. dead.”

there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.

before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.

frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.

“katsu—”

you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.

from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.

“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”

“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.

“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.

you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”

you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”

“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”

“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”

his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.

“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.

he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.

you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.

your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.

“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”

he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”

“i didn’t !”

“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.

“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.

“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together

“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.

“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”

“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.

he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.

“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”

“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.

“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.

“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”

“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.

“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.

and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.

“for now.”

[najenvhs]

hi sweetheart🫶

can I request bff!mark + dry humping while watching movies

mdi ! afab reader ! (i love this hehehe)

you and mark always have sleepovers, watching movie playing games listing to music. your families were super close and the both of you grew up together, but since your parents were out of town for the weekend you invited mark over

“so we are rewatching Spiderman right?” mark asks half as a joke but you know he’s serious.

“we watched that like a couple weeks ago” you sigh to yourself as you were in the kitchen making popcorn, you love the movies but you you’ve had enough.

“listen how about for a change we watch a girlie movie” you say with a smile on your face.

“fine, but next movie i call being a spider man movie” mark says rolling his eyes.

the thing is girlie (romcoms/ romance) movies always get you a little horny… they are always so cute and always about finding the one you will love, even if its them going though hardships or trying something new- the main character will always at the end of the story find love and 99.9% of the time have sex at the end.

you guys finished the movie you were watching and didnt really say much about it. watching romance movies with mark is nothing new but- watching romance movies with mark alone in your house is definitely new.

“that was cute” you say braking the silence.

“yeah it was funny- anways next movie?” mark says our of awkwardness and adjusting himself next to you.

you got back up to make more popcorn as he started the movie. you sat the food down on the table in front of the couch and since you were slightly bent over. in that same motion you leaned back to sit back down on the couch. but when you sat back it was not soft and fluffly.

“y/n” mark yelped

“oh god mark im so sorry” you said in a panic as you tried to get up but he wrapped your arm around ur waist making you sit right on top of him.

“y/n, could you say like this for a second” he said into your back.

“o-oh um yeah” you responded.

you sat there for a good couple of minutes watching the beginning of spider-man till you moved trying to get up again but that single movement make mark moan.

you couldn’t believe it, it shocked you down your spine and made you really aware of what you were sitting on.

“y/n please don’t move, im sorry” he says, you could tell he felt so apologetic.

“should i help?” you said quietly.

“what?” he responds quickly “no… no no no absolutely not”

“what if i wanted to” you said.

“i jus- f-fuck” he moans, you didnt care, you yourself were in a mood too and after feeling how hard he was you couldn’t help but move.

you started off slow, you didn’t want to overwhelm him or make him cum fast since you wanted to enjoy this too. “m-mark” you moaned out as you made little movements on top of him.

“y/n…” mark said, he moved your hair so that he had access to kiss the nape of your neck as you sat on top of him like a chair.

you move your lower body in slow circle movements to get him started. you knew this was going to be a bumpy ride so you place your hands on both of marks thighs to hold yourself up as you work yourself on him.

“you are doing so good y/n” he moans, he uses the hand that was wrapped around your stomach so snake it up into your shirt. he finds one of your tits and try’s to work on it while your moving on him. as he using his other hand to hold you down so he can meet you through the layers of thin clothing.

“a-ah” you push your ass down on him much as you could trying to fit yourself onto him like putting on a pair of tight shoes. you throw ur head forward in pleasure and to put all your strength in your legs.

“f-fuck y/n, your so f-fucking hot” mark shutters as he still chases after your back to leave hot kisses all over it. you change your rhythm to back and forth motions, you could feel him trying to meet your change.

you never really thought you would be doing this with mark, you had some feelings for him in the past but never let it get the best of you. seeing your best friend as a boy, a man was something really hard for you till today.

“f-fuck m-mark your so big” you say, feeling the length of him though clothing was making you wish that the layer wasnt there.

“y/n- i’m gonna cum” he grunted as he places both his hands on your hips so he could control your movements

“m-me to mark” you yelped trying to move as much as you could on top of him.

“f-fuck” he moaned loudly right into your ear as he spilled out in his pants. and you following right behind him.

he wraps his arms around your stomach pulling you in just to sit on top of him as you both come down for your high in  silence.

“so, what was that…” mark finally says, still holding on to you.

“i dont know but it was good, like really good, lik-“ you said but got cut off by mark.

“y/n please stop or im gonna actually want to fuck you” mark says resting his head on your back.

you twist your arm around in a awkward manner to reach his head, “if it means less clothes next time then i wouldnt mind”

and with that the two just laugh a little, clean up and try to at least finish the movie without any sexual glances at each other.

an: hiii i hit 127 followers so i thought i would respond to some requests as much as i could ^_^

[fairydustblossom]

encroaching promises

azriel x reader

summary: based on this request "I would love if you wrote something where Azriel was a dick and he has to GROVEL. (Angst feeds my soul) please and thank you."

category: angst (i just rly love it)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: slightly nsfw in some parts, emotional (not physical) disloyalty ?? maybe ?? kinda ??

notes: umm this was so fun to write! it came to me so fast like I didn't even have to edit it?? hopefully it's good lmao anways i hope you enjoy this @liddyr03, thank you for sending in a request!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Something had shifted between you and Azriel. It had been a gradual shift, one you had felt coming on for some time- but you could have never expected the reason for the growing distance between you and your mate.

He had been working longer hours, waking up earlier, barely spending any free time with you and you knew the middle Archeron sister had a part in it. You had tried to ignore it, their growing closer. Azriel had taken a liking to her. At first, your heart had warmed at Azriel’s willingness to help. There had not been many opportunities in his life where he could help someone directly, not just in a battlefield or in an interrogation room. You witnessed the impact it had on him, you could feel his inner peace, the way he viewed himself, his self worth improving- and you were proud of him. You really were happy that Azriel was finally seeing himself in a way you had always seen him. You believed in kindness, in helping others, in going above and beyond for someone in need, you had always preached it to Azriel. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to you, seeing in you traits he wanted to possess. But now, it had gone too far. 

You had noticed Elain and Azriel growing closer and closer. You had pushed your wariness aside, opting to be kind to her, hoping to help her in the way Azriel was doing so. Maybe she could be a good friend to you both, you thought. But Elain had not been as welcoming to your helping hand. Instead, she had treated you as she had treated all other fae, like you were a monster, personally responsible for her family's misfortune.

You tried time and time again to be graceful, to brush off her rudeness. You chose to be understanding, to put yourself in her shoes. But still, she treated you poorly. When you would join Azriel in visiting her, you noticed the difference in treatment. How she would look at him, and how she would look at you, like you had something she wanted. 

Eventually, you stopped joining Azriel in his visits, finding it hard to control your feelings of jealousy and not wanting to come across as an irrational possessive mate. He was only helping her get better, you told yourself.

After you stopped going together, you noticed how his visits grew longer and longer. The longer he would be there, the more you would question it. What are they doing? Why is she keeping him there? Is it him that wants to stay longer?

The questions would run through your head until the moment he would walk into your shared chambers. You would lay your eyes upon your tired mate, but you would catch the gleam in his eyes, happy with himself for doing some good for once, and you would push aside all jealousy. How could you ever doubt your mate? The very same male that had worshiped you for years, that had vowed his undying love to you, who was bound to your soul. And so you would welcome him home with open arms, letting him fall to bed, little words spoken of his day.

It kept on like this, for months, till a whole year had passed and you no longer recognized your relationship with Azriel. You barely spoke anymore, going through your established routines around each other in silence. What had once brought you so much comfort, now left you fretting that something had irrevocably changed. You knew next to nothing about what Azriel was thinking, of where he spent his days, although you had a good idea of who he spent them with. You who had once been his closest confidant, wrapped in his arms till late hours of the night, whispering every thought that crossed through your minds to each other. You were barely having any sex. What used to be almost a daily activity, was now a hurried fuck in the dark, taking no time to explore one another's bodies, only looking for a quick release. You hadn’t actually seen your mate’s body in months. Had Azriel finally had enough of yours after all this time?

Elain’s smell had practically been imprinted on him. You never smelled any sex, no, and you thought, no you hoped, that Azriel would never do that. But it hurt all the same when you could smell her on his clothing, for that only happened when a fae was around all the time. 

You had decided to take matters into your own hands. You were waiting for Azriel to come home, wearing his favorite silk slip that you had surprised him with on the night of your mating ceremony. Determination drove you- you would not let him go to bed without first feeling satiated. 

And so you waited, your belly fluttering with parts equal nerves and excitement. You were excited because you knew your mate would melt at the sight of you, and love on you like you were accustomed to. You felt maybe all you and Azriel needed was one night to destress, to reconnect and everything would be back to normal. 

When Azrile came home, his eyes immediately darkened at the sight of you, he recognized the slip you were wearing, images of your mating ceremony flashing through his mind. He was overcome with need for you and it only took a matter of minutes before you were pressed up against the wall, lost in a hungry kiss. You sent all your excitement down the bond and he groaned into the kiss, sending his desire right back. You were elated, nothing pleased you more than the feeling of Azriel against you and feeling the bond thrumming with need.

Azriel was quick to pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom, tossing you on the bed. You sat up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting to slow this down a bit. You could feel how badly he wanted you, not only through the bond but by the bulge pressing into your flushed bodies. The mother knew you wanted him just as badly, and any other time you would have given into your needs in a desperate attempt to chase the release you were craving. But you wanted to take him in, wanting to drag this out as long as possible, to drink in the sight of his glorious body that your eyes had been deprived of. 

You pressed your forehead against his, willing your breath to calm down. Azriel pulled his head back a bit, brows furrowing slightly and a look of confusion overtaking his eyes, “You alright, love?” a wave of worry flowed down the bond, his hands roamed your body, bringing you comfort and spreading warmth all over. 

You flushed slightly, butterflies erupting in your belly at hearing the pet name. Your ears perked, not having heard the endearment in so many months. Gods, you had missed him. You smiled shyly at him, and gave him a slight nod. Azriel felt his knees buck, so many years later and a single look from you could make him feel like the inexperienced younglin he used to be back at the camps. You looked so so lovely in that slip, the shy look you gave him, eyes shining with love, and the pink tint on your cheeks he had elicited all warmed his heart. He brought a hand up to your face, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear, resting his hand at the base of your jaw all while staring intently into your eyes. When he saw your cheeks flush a darker red, he gave you a charming grin, amused and delighted by the sudden shyness in you. He loved that he still had that effect on you, as if you were meeting for the first time.

“I’m alright Az, just taking you in” you murmured, your voice sounding like honey to his ears. 

“You can take me in all you want Y/N, I’m all yours to look at” he murmured back, dipping down to place warm loving kisses on your neck. You were delighted by his words, breathing him in deeply, relishing in the smell of his arousal. You felt delirious and giddy all at once, yes, you thought, all mine. Wishing to remind him, you sent the possessiveness you were feeling down the bond, making Azriel growl and nip at your neck more feverishly, marking you as his. He loved when you claimed him just as much as claiming you, feeling lucky to have someone in his life that wanted him as badly as he had always wanted.

The feeling of Azriel’s nipping and sucking your neck urged you on to keep undressing him. Undoing all the clasps you had started unfurling downstairs, you removed the tight fitting top of his leathers. You ran your hands along his arms, taking pleasure in the warmth of his bare skin against your fingertips. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, trailing your gaze up his tattooed arms, to his chest, hands sliding along- when your eyes snagged on something just below his pec and you halted all your movements. Azriel buried in your neck still, stopped as well, feeling you tense up. You pulled back, taking a good look at what your eyes had seen. It was a tattoo. One you hadn’t seen before. 

Your heart sank, hurt overpowering any feeling of desire you had been feeling. The unexpectedness of the moment had left you vulnerable, leaving your side of the bond wide open for Azriel to feel the sudden shift in your emotions. He froze, suddenly panicked at why you were hurting and he pulled back, grasping your arms and holding you at arms length. He tried meeting your eyes, noticing they were locked in on his torso. When he looked down he saw what you were staring at. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the rose shaped tattoo resting on his right rib. You didn't know what it meant, but you had a feeling you knew what, or rather who, had been the cause of it. You thought of Elain and her precious garden. You thought of Elain and her treasured white roses. You couldn’t fight the tears that lined your eyes and you moved out of Azriel’s grasp to the other side of the room, wanting to be as far away from him as possible. 

Azriel felt his heart sink at the way you fled his touch, as if he had burned you. He saw the look in your eyes and felt his that his world was crashing down.

“What is that Azriel?” you asked, struggling to conceal the wobble in your voice, not actually wanting to hear the truth you already knew.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at the tattoo your gaze hadn’t drifted from and then looked back up at you. Forcing himself to look at you, even if it made him feel like the biggest dickhead.

“It’s… It’s a promise” he said, wishing he didn’t have to tell you and see the betrayal in your eyes. He had been avoiding this conversation, feeling disgusted at himself for having made the promise in a lapse of judgment.

He saw the fire ignite in your eyes, anger rising at his answer. You already knew it was a promise, and he was aware you wanted more of an explanation. He only hoped you could forgive him, for he did not know if he could forgive you if it were the other way around. Shame creeped up his spine and he mustered up the courage to confess his mistake. He had barely been able to look at himself since the tattoo had seared itself onto his skin and he had opted to ignore it all together- to pretend it wasn’t there. Azriel had done so much pretending, that the tattoo had been fully forgotten moments earlier when he had welcomed and encouraged you to look upon him.

At your lack of response, he cleared his throat and carried on, praying to the mother in his head, for he knew he was about to hurt you and he would hate himself for having caused you pain, “I made a promise. I-I made a promise to Elain.”

You looked up at him then, and the pain he saw in your eyes made him feel sick to his stomach, knowing he has caused it. “Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, your voice terrifyingly low “What did you promise her Azriel?” 

His cheeks were red and his body felt hot with shame as he replied, “I promised I would always be there to protect her.” 

His words, uttered barely above a whisper, felt like daggers to your heart. You flinched, unable to conceal the effect they had on you. The tears broke free, you managed to hold in your sobs by biting the inside of your cheeks, but you couldn’t hold back the tears. You were biting so hard you tasted blood, and the world felt like it was spinning. You couldn’t find any words, there was nothing to say. He had promised her something he was supposed to only ever promise you.

“I fucked up. I know I did, I’ve been working out a way to undo it.” He started to plead, taking a few steps to close the distance between you. You stepped away, not letting him get near, barely hearing his words over the rushing sound in your ears. “Rhys and Feyre have been helping me find a way to break it. We actually know how, the same way they broke their deal from under the mountain, we just need Elain to-”

You were done listening to him, his words only adding to the hurt you were feeling. Rhys and Feyre knew your mate had promised his protection to another? Did everyone know? Why hadn’t he told you? 

“Leave” you hissed at him. You didn’t care to hear his excuses, you were done. Never would you have ever spent so much time with another male, never would you have ever made such an intimate promise. 

“What?” he asked. He had been expecting you to react this way, for months he had been mentally preparing himself. But to hear you actually say it still caught him off guard. “Y/N, please, I can expl-”

“Leave” you said again, your voice strengthening with conviction. “Get out of my home, Azriel.” You felt if Azriel stayed any longer you would go mad, and you meant your words. This was not a home anymore, not with him in it. He had bound his soul to another, and kept it from you. If he remained here any longer, you don’t know what you would do. You could feel your power thrumming in your veins, begging for release. 

Azrile looked heartbroken, like a man that had lost everything he cared about in this world. He pleaded with his eyes, pushing everything he was feeling down the bond, hoping you would take back his words. When you only looked away as a response, he knew he had to respect your wishes. It pained him unlike anything else to leave you alone after the damage he had caused but he understood there was nothing he could do at that moment to make it better. He steeled himself, calling all his shadows to him, fighting with the ones that were wrapped around you trying to comfort you, and then he vanished.

You broke down when Azriel left, letting the pain of your failed relationship consume you. The image of the rose tattoo was all you could see behind your eyes and you ran to the bathroom to release the bile that had risen up your throat. You sat there on the floor, picturing all the interactions you had witnessed between Azriel and Elain. You could have prevented this, you couldn’t help but think, if you had only stepped in sooner. If you had only kept that girl away from your mate. If you had only shown her anything other than kindness. You had in a sense, lost your mate to another woman. For how could he spend his days with you when he promised to protect another for the rest of her days?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel knew he had to fix this. He honestly had already been trying to, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the promise he had made Elain. A promise that she had coerced him into. But to be rid of it, she had to be in agreement. Rhys and Feyre had helped him contact Helion and that is what he had told them. The High Lord of day had also told them it would cause great pain, which Elain had grasped onto in her refusal to break the promise. She argued she had been through enough in the past years to willingly put herself through more pain.

Azriel blamed himself, really. For letting Elain get so close to him, for having been there at her beck and call to the point she expected, no demanded, that treatment from him all the time. He had spent the last few months attempting to convince Elain to go through with breaking the promise. He was doing everything he could for her, hoping if he did enough she would come to her senses and consent to Helion’s spell. 

He kept telling himself she was only holding on to this because she had lost everything else in her life, it made her feel that she was finally in control of something- that she didn’t mean his beloved any harm. But Azriel had come to the realization that whether Elain meant to hurt others or not with her actions- she was being selfish with them. He was devoted to you and he would not let Elain cost him what he prized so dearly in his life. His mate, he kept thinking, he would not lose his mate.

Rhys and Feyre were curled against one another in the living room when Azriel winnowed in, looking distraught, wings drooped, and frantic shadows dispersing around the room- swallowing all light. He dropped down to his knees, tears lining his eyes as he looked up at his High Lord and High Lady. They were instantly alarmed, Rhys dropping to the floor to join his brother while Feyra went to Azriel’s side. Rhys grabbed Azriel’s face in his hands, quickly assessing him for any injuries, he tried peeking into Azriel’s mind and only saw your pained expression. Azriel dropped his head on his brother's shoulder, looking like a fallen angel, and he cried. “Please help me. Please, brother”.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For the next few weeks, you had isolated yourself- putting wards around the house to prevent any of your family from winnowing in. You had felt each of them attempt to come in, to console you, but you refused to let them in.

You couldn’t forgive them, at least not anytime soon, for having kept this from you. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t know how long ago the promise had been made, you didn’t know how long they had known- all the interactions you had with your family since the time Elain came were now painted in a different light in your mind. Had they all thought you a fool? To let your mate get so close to another female, when Elains affections for Azriel had so clearly been written on her face? You couldn’t bear to face them, knowing they had kept this from you. 

You had also distanced yourself because you weren’t sure of what you would do if you came across Elain. Your territorial feelings had only been enhanced and you were scared of what you would do to your High Lady’s older sister if you saw her.

Azriel had tried almost everyday to talk to you, but you remained firm in your decision, refusing to yield to his pleas. You had received countless notes from Rhys, the only one who could get past your wards, and had burned them all. Until the latest one. You had been reading when a note appeared on the page you were on. Unlike the other ones, this one did not come to you unfolded so you had no option but to read the words they said.  “It is done. Azriel is recovering in the infirmary.” The note raised your heartbeat and caused dozens of questions to rise within you. Suddenly Azriel’s absence the past few days made sense. He had been resolute everyday since you had kicked him out in gaining your forgiveness, staying outside the door to your home waiting for the day you would let him back in. He hadn’t pushed or attempted to break through your wards, and you knew he could, he was the spymaster after all; instead, he had patiently waited, accepting his punishment. Every night, for weeks he had waited, until a few days ago, when he had disappeared and hadn’t come back. You figured he had gotten tired, or given up- you were still too hurt to find out why he had left. 

Now, worry filled you. Was he okay? What did Rhys mean by “recovering”? You recalled the time Rhys and Feyre had faked breaking their bond, fooling everyone by breaking the promise they had made instead- you remembered their shouts of pain, and that was the High Lord and the High Lady, the two most powerful fae in all of Prythian. 

You quickly stood up, pacing around the room, trying to decide what to do. Deep down you knew even if you didn’t go right now, adamant in your stubbornness, worry would eat you and thoughts of Azriel would consume you. Acknowledging you wouldn’t be able to go an hour without knowing, you made your decision and winnowed to the infirmary.

When you arrived, the sight of Azriel made you gasp. He looked awful. You could see the stark dark circles under his eyes, his ruffled hair, the pain expression etched on his face even as he slept. He looked thinner too, as if he hadn’t been eating well- he hadn’t, you learned later on, too sick at his own actions to feel any appetite at all.

You rushed to his side, grasping one of his hands, they felt cold, almost lifeless, and you reached deep within to the bond that tethered your soul to his, the bond you had buried deep down within you and ignored for weeks. You sighed with relief when you found it and tugged on it. He was still there you could feel, but the bond was dulled, as if life had been sucked out of it. 

You burst into tears, never having imagined that the beautiful bond you cherished would ever be in such a weak state. This feeling you had feared, the feeling of Azriel fighting for his life, of barely being there overwhelmed you.

You cried for him, for your love, for everything that had happened until your throat felt hoarse and the tears wouldn’t come anymore. You had sat there by his side for hours, squeezing his hand and murmuring his name over and over, tugging at the bleak bond, willing it to go back to normal. 

All night you spent by his side, the sun was now rising over the mountains of Velaris when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. It was firm and gentle- Rhys. You didn’t look up at him, your head pressed against Azriel’s hand, cradled within your own. When your tears had dried you had resorted to praying to the mother, you were convinced if you prayed enough he would be okay and you wouldn’t let anything interrupt the prayers that tumbled out of you. 

“Y/N” Rhys mumbled, sitting down next to you, arm now wrapped around you. “He’s going to be okay.” 

When he realized you would not acknowledge him until you felt satisfied with your orison, Rhys pulled you into a hug, waiting for you to finish. He does not know how long he sat there next to you, only that the sun was now high up in the sky. You slumped against him, still not letting go of Azriel's hand and started crying again. “You knew” he heard you say, and he felt a pang in his chest. He realized now that not only had you been hurt by Azriel, but he had hurt you as well. 

He nodded, “I’m sorry for keeping it from you.” He said “I was only doing what I thought best. I will let Azriel explain everything when he wakes up, I want you to hear it all from him. But just know I am sorry” 

He felt your body shake more violently at the mention of Azriel. “What if he doesn’t wake up?” you asked, voice small and filled with agony. 

“He will, Y/N. He will.” He pulled you away to look in your eyes, making sure you were taking in his words. “Madja and Helion have both guaranteed that he will wake up, his body just needs to heal.” 

You nodded, calming down slightly at his words. “How long has he been here?”

At this, he looked down, embarrassed to tell you he had kept yet another thing from you in hopes that Azriel could go to you himself and tell you he had gotten rid of the promise. “He has been here a few days, I-I didn’t take it would take long for him to wake up. I wanted him to be able to tell you.”

You only nodded, having already guessed as much, piecing together Azriel’s absence outside your door with his unconscious body. Later, you would give Rhys hell for keeping it from you, but currently you had no energy to fight. You leaned into his hug further, needing the comfort he provided and resigned yourself to waiting. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took three more days for Azriel to wake up, Rhys had briefly explained that the impact had been greater than it should have been because they had manipulated Elain into consenting to break the promise instead of her going willingly into it. You could feel the anger Rhys felt towards his sister in law as he explained- making sure you understood they had coerced her in a way not too unlike how she had done to Azriel when he made the promise. Your anger towards Azriel had diminished, you still wanted to hear what he had to say, but you were ready to forgive him. All you wanted was for him to wake up.

You were sitting next to Azriel, head nodding off in sleep. After almost four days of little to no  sleep, you were struggling to fight it off. Your eyes had fully shut and you could feel yourself drifting when you felt the hand you were holding twitch.

Immediately you gasped and sat up, watching with wide eyes as Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to battle with himself to wake up and once he finally did you stood up grabbing a cup of water for him. He looked at you with daze eyes and croaked out, “I’m sorry”

Your heart melted, his voice was barely there and you shushed him, raising the cup to his lips, urging him to drink some water. He gulped down the water you offered, pulling back to catch his breath, then he looked at you again, eyes filled with sorrow before he whispered again “I’m so sorry, my love”

You only nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion to form any words. Instead, you pushed everything you were feeling down the bond and in return Azriel poured all of his love. You could feel how sorry he was, his love for you, his sadness. His eyes watered at feeling the bond thrumming again, he had been convinced he would never feel it again and he thanked the mother for blessing him with such an amazing mate.

 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he kept mumbling, groggy from his week-long slumber and unable to form any other coherent sentences. 

You shushed him and cradled his face to your body, peppering his face with kisses wanting to convey how grateful you were for your mate. You stayed there, curled up against him the rest of the night, letting him know how much you loved him, your mate, who had risked his life to make things right. 

“I would do it again, for you, I would do anything” he murmured, head tucked in the crook of your neck, before drifting off into sleep again.

[sarahscribbles]

thirsty thursday idea! since you've done a marking kink drabble, maybe a bruising kink drabble? I've never seen a fic about it. I'm thinking that the reader is really turned on by Loki bruising her with his grip/ roughness. him grabbing her hips while she's riding him so hard it bruises. bruises the next day on her arms/wrists from where he held her. bruises on her thighs from loki holding her down while he eats her out. okay I'm done now, hopefully this inspires you😂

Oh, Lord, I hope this suffices as a bruising kink! I did my best!

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟓𝟎

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The very first time Loki had left a mark on your skin, you had thought the guilt would consume him.

Tiny splotches of purple and red had quickly blossomed beneath your skin - the aftermath of eager fingers following a week apart - but to Loki, those tiny marks indented in your skin were akin to a bullet straight through your heart. 

“I hurt you,” he had said, ghosting the tips of his fingers guiltily along your thigh. “My darling, I can’t apologise enough.” 

At first, you had thought it was an act, but the heaviness that settled across his face and the pain shining in his eyes brought the realisation that he meant every word. He truly believed that ten little bruises no bigger than a fingertip had left you in agony. 

“Loki,” you had called to him softly, watching his eyes quickly rise to meet yours. Those pretty green irises held so much remorse that you wanted to wrap him in your arms and never let go. “You didn’t hurt me, love. Not in a way I didn’t enjoy, anway,” you added, reaching a hand down to cover his. 

Two perfectly groomed eyebrows had furrowed in clear confusion. “How do you mean?”

Beneath your hand, his thumb still traced slowly over the bruise it had left there, and, for some strange reason, it made heat creep slowly to your cheeks. You had talked about so many of your kinks with him - hell, only a few weeks ago you had told him it gets you going when he finishes on you - yet it was this that made you embarrassed?

“I…I like it when you mark me,” you had admitted. “Brusies, biting, I don’t care how, but I like it. I like the physical reminder that I’m yours. I like other people knowing that I’m yours.”

His hand around yours had tightened and you watched the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Say that again, darling, please. I need you to say it again,” he had said softly, a new roughness lacing around his words. 

You had bitten your lip coyly in the way you knew drove him crazy. “I want everyone to know that I’m yours, Loki. Please.”

A grin had spread cross your lovers face, one that was both soft yet wicked, and he had climbed back eagerly between your legs. “Your wish is my command, darling.” 

That had only been a few short weeks ago. Now, as he thrusts into you almost ruthlessly, his fingers are gripping your thigh so tightly to his waist that you might pass out at how good it feels. 

He’s lost the hesitancy and the fear, and now a patchwork of purple and red splotches covers every part of your body that he can reach. Your chest and stomach are covered in bruises - all courtesy of his beautifully sinful mouth - and similar marks pepper the inside of your thighs from where he had held them apart to lick you to your first orgasm. 

Tonight, you’re riding a high so powerful and so blinding that you yearn for the ability to stop time, to stay locked forever in this bed with this god between your legs. 

Loki’s hand tightens around your thigh as your climax builds, making tiny stars dance enticingly at the edge of your vision. “Oh, fuck, Loki!” you groan, clutching him to you in sheer desperation. “Please! Let everyone…let everyone know…I’m yours!” 

He rolls his hips against yours with a ferocious force that makes you whimper and pants roughly in your ear, “I promise you…no one will question who you belong to…when they see you tomorrow morning.” 

His lips find your neck and you explode on his cock to the feel of him leaving a trail of fresh marks along the column of your throat. No part of you has been neglected tonight. 

Your orgasm has barely faded when Loki pulls his cock from your cunt, and you’re still floating so blissfully on the pink cloud of release that you don’t even raise an objection when he maneuvers your body so that you’re on all fours on the bed. 

“Oh, fuck,” you slur out when his cock thrusts back into you. Vaguely, it registers somewhere in your mind that you’ve had two orgasms while Loki has still to have one. 

A shiver wracks your entire body. 

“Oh, darling,” Loki purrs in faux sympathy. You feel a large hand clamp firmly around one hip while the other gathers your wrists to pin them against the small of your back. His grip on you is heavy and unyielding, and your cunt clenches joyfully around the aching length of him. “It looks like there’s still more canvas for me to paint.”

He gives a single roll of his hips and squeezes your hip in his iron grip. A sharp cry of pleasure tumbles from your lips while you wriggle back against him, silently begging for more. “I do hope you have no prior engagements, my love, because I don’t intend to stop until every inch of you is covered in my marks.”

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [7].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. the usual amount of swearing and ruining the lives of men, jay goes through an crisis, mentions of hairballs, mc is extra menacing this chapter. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. here....it is..... this has been long overdue and i'm so sorry AHAHAH but i did say that i'm gonna update this whenever i want. anyhow, this is the jay chapter! and i hope this makes up for the one month long delay! enjoy, please let me know what you think<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish.

YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER GET SICK OF WAKING UP AND GETTING LULLED BACK TO SLEEP BY THE MOST COMFORTABLE MATTRESS IN THE WORLD. Seriously. You’re considering hoarding it back to your dorm once you leave at the end of the month. 

It’s the best thing about this house. The second best thing is having your breakfast cereal already laid out for you in the kitchen the moment you step downstairs. This princess treatment is going to get you spoiled. 

The odd thing about today, however, is that your usual bowl of Cheerios is nowhere in sight.

You rub your eyes, proceeding to squint at the counter because maybe you just aren’t awake enough yet. But it’s still not there. You look over to the sink. There is no evidence that someone ate your cereal. What happened? Did your cereal robot sleep in today? Did he die? Are you gonna have to make your own bowl of cereal from now on?

“Good morning.”

Sunghoon greets you upon walking into the living room, cereal-less and still groggy. Beomgyu is also there, cross legged on the couch and playing something on his phone. “Good—” you greet back, scratching your hand underneath your shirt with a big yawn, “—morning.” For some reason, Sunghoon suddenly looks scandalized. You ignore it and stretch out your arms above your head with another yawn.

“Please— oh my god, please don’t do that. I can see your un—underwear.”

You pause mid-stretch, arms up in the air, shirt hiking up a little. “What color?” you ask. 

“Grey! Why would you ask me that?!”

“Ooh, correct.” You drop your arms down. “I thought you were kidding. Sorry, my bad.”

You grin and shoot them a peace sign. “Sunghoon, go get the PD&J,” Beomgyu announces, eyes not leaving his phone. Your expression quickly moltens into a glare and a grimace. Dammit, you’ve been careful all this time. You blame your lack of early cereal nutrients for this carelessness.

“I’ll pay later,” you grunt. “Anway, where’s Jay? He didn’t make my cereal today so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Is he your slave?” you hear Beomgyu retort. You’ll deal with him later.

Thankfully, Sunghoon is normal(?) and answers your question promptly. “Out on the deck,” he tells you, and you look over to the open glass doors past your dining setup leading up to the sunlit deck outside. You squint, unable to spot a life form of any sort at first, but after a moment of letting your eyes wander, you finally see it.

Jay is laying flat on the wooden floor, shades on, facing directly at the sun. “What’s up with him?” you ask Sunghoon. There are pieces of paper with unidentifiable contents scattered around the motionless man. You fear he might be actually dead.

“He’s photosynthesizing,” he replies. You should’ve known better than to expect a correct answer.

“He’s not a plant,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s past nine. He’s not getting any more vitamin D at this hour.”

Sunghoon simply shrugs and Beomgyu is still busy yelling profanities at his phone. You sigh. Time to take care of things yourself, so saunter over to Jay’s tanning bed and crouch down near his head, arms crossed. Is he asleep? you furrow your brows and peer down a little closer. His pitch black sunglasses are making it impossible to tell.

“Wow. This is the first time I’ve seen you upside down.”

And he’s alive.

“Hey,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

Jay has his hands symmetrically placed on his abdomen, and he remains unmoving when he opens his mouth to reply. “Brooding,” he says, and you are granted more questions than answers. 

“Don’t people usually do that in the dark?”

“I don’t conform to society’s standards.” Jay sits up, so you lean back. You watch him as he adjusts the shades on his nose bridge, ruffles his hair as if there’s a camera pointed at him, then says, “I’m absolutely fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

Woah, there. Looks like Mr. Easygoing is going through some troubled waters.

“Alright.” You shuffle out of your crouching position, dropping to paneled wood to cross your legs for a more comfortable position. “Lay it on me,” you announce, ready to sunbathe and hear a very very long story.

Jay stares at you. There’s a wrinkle between his brows. 

“Go ahead.” You nod decidedly. 

After another pause, Jay shrugs and sets his head down on your crossed legs, laying back down but with you as his new pillow. That’s not what you meant, but you roll with it. This is an opportunity to braid knots his hair. “So I took a summer class, right,” he starts, and you dig your fingers into the dark strands. “Women’s wear design. Thought It’d be useful for androgynous clothing ideas, but anyway.”

Wow, it’s so soft, you think, finishing a single braid. “And then?”

“Well. For our final project, we need to have a live model to wear our design prototypes. To test their functionality and all. A friend of mine already agreed a few weeks ago, but she suddenly canceled yesterday, so I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

His hair slips out of your fingers. The gears in your brain start to churn. “When’s the presentation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Have you asked someone else?”

“Yeah. I’ve already tried calling everyone I know.”

“And?”

“I ran out of people,” he says. “I’m screwed, right?”

“I feel like there’s more to this.”

A third voice suddenly pops up and you flinch. “Holy shit,” you turn to see Heeseung sitting next to you. He looks like he’s been there for a while and you make your surprise very evident by how wide your eyes are staring at him. Jay props up, also looking at him. “When did you get here?”

Heeseung ignores you. “Jay,” he starts. You’re gonna get back at him for that. “What did you tell Eunmi when you asked for her help for the project?” 

Eunmi is a familiar name. You’re pretty sure she’s the one that stormed out of the house the other day. “I told her that I had a problem and asked if she could do me a favor.

Your brows knit together. Wait a minute. “And what else did you say?”

“I also asked if she didn’t mind taking her clothes off,” he says. “Why?”

Silence sets in. It simmers for a while. You and Heeseung share a look. “Jay,” you call out. He gets off of your lap and sits up, turning to face you. You press your lips together. How do you break it to him? 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she thought you were asking to hook up.”

You double over and nearly let out a gasp. So the mysophobe isn’t hasn’t completely eroded his social awareness. You are both horrified and impressed, and he’s looking at you like he can hear your thoughts, visibly offended. 

“Heeseung’s right. Girlie probably thought you’d be using your measuring tape for something else outside of measuring.” They both give you a look. Maybe you gave Heeseung too much credit. “What? After measuring her tits and ass, imagine her disappointment when you went off to measure her ankles next.” 

“Well, I’m a fashion major, what did she expect?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some dressmaker-themed BDSM shit!” you huff. “Don’t you know you know anyone else that can model for you?”

“I’m pretty sure all the girls in his contacts have him blocked,” Heeseung says. 

You grunt and lean back, the deck warm on your palms. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but—” You sigh. Your shoulders slack, and you run your fingers through your scalp with a deep inhale. Jay and Heeseung nudge themselves closer. You give them three more seconds of suspenseful silence— one…two…three. 

“But we don’t have much of a choice.” 

His dumb sunglasses are still keeping his eyes hidden, but you’re pretty sure Jay is looking at you like you’re the second coming of Christ. On the other hand, Heeseung looks suspicious. You assure them that you’ll take care of, telling Jay to go upstairs and prepare his design prototype in case he needs to make any alterations, and Heeseung follows you to the living room, where Sunghoon and Beomgyu are still lounging around.

They turn their heads the moment you enter. Sunghoon and Heeseung’s eyes are trained on you as you approach Beomgyu, who has now settled down his phone to give you a disgruntled expression— impatient and nervous because, “what the fuck are you up to this time?” he voices out. You spare him an extra second of agony and tell him what you came for.

When the words leave your mouth, Beomgyu nearly chokes on the air.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His eyes are wide, looking up at you. 

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you can pretend to be a woman for a day,” you repeat. Beomgyu is looking at you like you’re insane. 

“What the fuck?”

“C’mon!” you exclaim, hopping down on the plush sofa cushion next to him and he jumps and flinches away. There’s a reason why you adore fucking with Beomgyu the most. “It’ll only be for a day! Do it for Jay! Whoa. That rhymes.”

“Why me?!” he shrieks. The reason is he fights back. He makes it all the more satisfying when he inevitably admits defeat. 

“Because you’re arguably the prettiest one of the lot!” You bounce closer, trapping his between the armrest and your enthusiasm to see him in a fucking dress. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are like, really, really pretty? And your facial structure is already so nice and elegant, I really don’t need to do anything with makeup, you’re already perfect!” 

With each word you utter and with each centimeter you lean closer, Beomgyu’s face gets increasingly redder and brighter. “Your— your flattery won’t convince me to fucking cross dress in public, you psychos!” 

Before you can get the chance to say ‘so you don’t mind doing it in private?’ Beomgyu tries pushing you off, but he’s too flustered to put any strength in. The opportunity to grab his wrists and pull him closer simply just presents itself. “C’mon!” you tug him in. “Swallow the toxic masculinity, Beomgyu! I believe in you!”

“No!”

He manages to roll off the sofa and retreat to his room. As Beomgyu’s heavy and hasty footsteps fill the air, the sound growing weaker by the second, you turn over to Sunghoon, who is sitting on the individual seat. He meets your eyes. “No,” he says before you could open your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second to get up and follow Beomgyu’s escape pattern. “Sunghoon! Sunghoon, wait!” you yell after him. When he pads up the stairs, you stop at the bottom of the flight and watch as he scurries up the floor. “Are you upset that you’re the second choice? That doesn’t mean anything! You’re pretty too! I love your nose and your pretty face moles and—”

And he is gone. You turn back. “Well, I tried,” you shrug. Heeseung is wearing an expression you can only describe as severe perturbation. “Soobin and Jake aren’t home. That’s a bummer.” Then again, Jake would probably be down for it, which is no fun. And you can’t risk making Soobin cry again. Your list of crimes is already long enough. Beomgyu has the copy. 

“Of all the solutions you could come up with, I didn't think you’d go for the crossdressing route.”

Heeseung is leaning against the sofa, arms resting on top of its plush back. “Actually, I never even considered it,” he adds. “I thought you’d volunteer to model for him yourself.”

You make your way back to the living area with a yawn. Shrugging, you say, “I am.”

His brows scrunch, eyes narrowed. “Then why did you—” Heeseung stops thinking. He gives you a look of distaste. “You’re pretty evil, you know that?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you hop on the couch Heeseung is leaning again. He visibly flinches when you do, but he doesn’t move away. So you sit up with your legs still on the sofa, knees sinking into the cushions, and you poke your nose forward so that it nearly bumps into his. 

“What are you—”

You inch your face closer. “It’s not my fault that you guys are easy targets.” You can literally hear his breath getting taken away. You flash him a wide grin. 

“Calm down. I’m moving away, moving away. No need to run.” When you flop back to lie on the sofa, Heeseung’s pink-tinted face is in full view, and he’s trying his best to hide it from you all while still trying to shoot you a glare. At some point he’s going to snap at you, for sure. Until that happens, you’re free to mess with him. “Anyway, I’ll be off to Jay’s secret lair. That is unless you man up and take one for the team, and—”

“Bye.”

Like the other two, Heeseung stomps away. You let out a huff of air. “You’re all weak as shit,” you call out. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to give one of them a makeover. Maybe one day you can paint their nails and do their eyeliner.

Jay can’t express just how grateful he is for you.

No, really. He can’t. He tried telling you that he owes you his life when you told him not to worry about it and just go upstairs and prepare his things, but all that jumped out of his mouth is a measly, “you’re so cool,” before leaving you with Heeseung. 

That won’t do it. He’s gonna say thank you and a million more once you show up in the storage room-turned-office-slash-workspace next to his bedroom, and you’re going to be so impressed by his thanking skills. But the feeling is all muffled and fuzzy inside his chest— like a way too stubborn hairball he can’t cough out. So when you knock on his door and take a peek inside the extension of his room, all he can say is, “I made the carpet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Oh!”

Jay watches as you crouch down almost immediately upon his mention, feeling the mishmas of fabric texture with your palms. Your hands are running through a patch of faux fur, stitched to some leftover corduroy. You’re stepping on denim, and in between you and him is a large swab of linen. “Holy shit. This is pretty cool.”

There’s a thump in his chest. He’s pretty sure you’re the first person to say that after the other dozen people that have been here before you.

Then again, Jay’s pretty sure you’re the first for him on a lot of things.

He fears the hairball lodged in his throat just multiplied.

“So.” You pull yourself up from the ground. “What are we doing?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Let me show you the clothes first. It’s a dress. It may not look like one, but trust me it is a dress—” he quickly explains, walking over to the mannequin in the corner of the room, pulling it out from the corner with a bit of a struggle because the wheels get caught in the stringy fabric of his carpet. “You can try it on, but it’s made with Eunmi’s measurements. Tell me if anything doesn’t fit right so I can alter it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Hey, I may make fun of you guys a lot, but this time I’m being serious— this is so cool! What the hell, Jay?”

Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t think you’d like wearing something so avant garde. After Eunmi’s reaction to seeing it, he was pretty sure you’d be hesitant. “This will swallow my entire figure! I’d look like a jellyfish! You know what, I was already disappointed when you suddenly started jotting down my arm width. I’m going home. Don’t call me,” was what she said before storming off. But you’re all ooh’s and aah’s as you dig your nose into the thin sheets of intricately sewn on sheer, black fabric. 

“I was also serious about the carpet. Hold on let me try this on—”

You struggle taking the dress off of the mannequin. Jay helps you out. “You can change in my room.”

“Gotchu,” you shoot him a thumbs up, running off to the door with the dress flowing in your hands. “Don’t you dare peek. I don’t have any more spare change to throw into that stupid jar.”

“What if I pay for you?”

“Great. Door’s unlocked. Open if you have the balls.” Then you close the door with a still thinly open gap. It’s really is easy to talk to you. You don’t give him a weird look after he says a few words. He can hear your swearing slipping out of the crack in the door. Maybe he should have left you to fend for yourself against his admittedly unconventionally constructed dress.

“Need any help?” he asks, hesitantly inching towards the door.

“I can handle it— fuck, wait, where is my neck supposed to—”

After hearing a thump from inside the room, Jay believes he might have to intervene, else it’ll end up with either a torn ligament or a torn three month long project. He lands a knock on the door. “I think you need my help.”

“Give me a minute! I got this!” A minute. He starts counting down from sixty. And mentally counting down in nothing but silence and the occasional profanities from the other room is giving him some time to think. To think about how even though he’s gone through numerous dates, talked to numerous women, but for some reason they never last long. Well, all except you. You and his mother.

He’s lost count of the times he’s been ghosted (a ghost dress does sound like a pretty good idea), but the times they do communicate— they all communicate with a very familiar script:

“Maybe we should start seeing other people.”

Maybe his bonfire joke wasn’t as funny as he thought.

“Hey, Jay, is it supposed to look like this?” you call out before his sixty second countdown is over. “I think I’m wearing it wrong.”

When he opens the room to his door with a creak, his breath hitches in his throat. 

And it’s not the metaphorical hairball that’s been annoying him. Shit. Something about seeing you in a design he’s crafted with his own hands, conjured up with his own brain, is tying all sorts of knots in his stomach. Even when you put your arm in the wrong hole.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Jay walks up to you next to the bed. The clothes you’ve shedded on in lieu of the dress he made is scattered on his mattress. He swallows hard before laying a discreet hand on your shoulder, tugging on a loose part of the clothing to reveal the armhole.

“Oh! That explains a lot,” you say, slotting in your arm into the correct gap this time. The dress still looks a little off. “I haven’t zipped it up yet. Can you help me?”

He lets out a cough. “Sure.”

Ah, what is going on with him? He’s been sleeping in this same room for nearly a year now, but for some reason the air right now is arid and stuffy and it’s making his head spin. Jay turns you around, a hand on your hip, and zips up the dress that suddenly feels like fire. That doesn’t make sense. It’s supposed to mimic water. Why the hell are his palms burning? 

The moment the dress is secured, you quickly look into the mirror. “What...what do you think?” he asks hesitantly. Maybe you don’t like it as much anymore now that it’s on you. Maybe the dress is also burning you. Maybe this design is a failure after all— and he feels that fear being confirmed when your back is turned towards him, and you spend a good minute looking at yourself in the mirror in silence. 

Dammit. The damned hairball is back in his lungs.

“I feel…” you start talking. His heart is pounding. Holy shit, he’s never felt this nervous before. “I feel like a sexy goth jellyfish. This is crazy. I love it.”

And just like that, air starts flowing back into his chest.

“Exactly!” 

He grabs you by the arm, spinning you around so he can look at you, and the dress fabric flitters along in the air. “Whoa!” you squeak out. He steadies you by the arms. You look at him, wide eyed.

Jay breath’s are bated. The sunglasses he’s got perched on his nose this entire time got crooked from the rush, falling down to the tip of his nose, revealing a look on his eyes that he didn’t know he was capable of making. “You get me,” he breathes out. “You totally get me.”

Something swirls inside the confines of his room. It’s dark. The only light coming in is from the crack into his office and the warm bedside lamp you turned on.

The both of you stay like this for a moment. Until there’s a knock on his door and a voice rips through all of the tension.

“Okay, fine!” 

It’s Beomgyu’s voice entering the room along with the sound of the door swinging open. 

Creak!

“Fucking fine, I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it as long as—”

It’s not just him. Heeseung and Sunghoon are also there, squeezed between the frame of his now open door. “Oh,” someone says out loud. He’s unsure who. “Oh.”

Somehow, Jay isn’t feeling your arms anymore. He blinks, and you’re not in front of him anymore. He turns his head and sees you in between him and the three other guys outside. “Are you ready to become a sexy jellyfish, Beomgyu?” you taunt, moving further away from him by the second. 

Beomgyu looks at him. Then you. Then keeps his eyes on you. “I never said anything. I’m gonna go—”

“C’mon! Don’t I look great? You’d look just as— no, maybe even prettier than me if you wear— wait!”

And just like that you and his dress project run away from the room. Sunghoon’s head whips back and forth between him and wherever you’ve run off to before going after you and Beomgyu as well. Heeseung stays, albeit out the door. “So, did it go well?” he asks. Jay is still staring at the spot where you’d left.

“It went well,” he replies. “I think I’m gonna get a good grade.”

Well that’s not the only conclusion he’s come up with after all that. In spite of the loud noises, the yelling outside, and the threat of his dress getting ripped apart in the crossfire, he’s sure of two things. He is not only sure that he’s gonna ace this final summer project— Jay is sure that he might have just half fallen in love with you, too.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[python333]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it. 

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight. 

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts. 

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either. 

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago. 

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important. 

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment. 

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder. 

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off. 

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves? 

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep. 

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool. 

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now. 

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true. 

You’re still staring at the scalpel. 

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting. 

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife. 

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself. 

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations. 

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough. 

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it. 

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind. 

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about. 

The fists your hands have formed become tighter. 

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring. 

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel. 

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin. 

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain. 

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself. 

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger. 

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed. 

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun. 

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar. 

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred. 

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go. 

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area. 

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart. 

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it. 

There’s a knock. Then another. 

The door handle twists. 

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second. 

The door opens. 

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?” 

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip. 

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.” 

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried. 

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.” 

“... Ye sure?” 

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.” 

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?” 

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.” 

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.” 

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.” 

“Ye whit?” 

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—” 

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.” 

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die. 

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally. 

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions. 

“No.” 

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?” 

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others. 

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?” 

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred. 

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters. 

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive. 

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s. 

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far. 

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word. 

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?” 

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest. 

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.” 

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself. 

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well. 

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads. 

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention? 

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].” 

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled. 

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings. 

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no. 

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit. 

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.” 

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.” 

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk. 

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—” 

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.” 

“But I—” 

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks. 

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you. 

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left. 

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit. 

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more. 

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?” 

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it. 

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms. 

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again. 

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.” 

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you. 

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself. 

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better. 

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click. 

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier. 

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters. 

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly. 

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin. 

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure. 

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once. 

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it. 

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort. 

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did. 

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more. 

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned. 

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” 

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either. 

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?” 

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.” 

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.” 

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?” 

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin. 

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question. 

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.” 

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?” 

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either. 

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.” 

“Us ‘four’ being… ?” 

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.” 

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally. 

Your words affect them more than you thought they would. 

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince. 

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?” 

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you. 

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.” 

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.” 

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.” 

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz. 

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price. 

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably. 

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did. 

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple. 

“Does that surprise you?” 

“A little bit, yeah.” 

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.” 

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?” 

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.” 

“I do.” 

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—” 

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.” 

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.” 

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.” 

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.” 

“But you just said that I was strong.” 

“I did.” 

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks. 

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.” 

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.” 

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up. 

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.” 

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.” 

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-seven

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: please know, I do try really hard to get updates out every day but sometimes life happens. This story is so so important, I'm taking my time writing each chapter; especially since each chapter has been at least 7k words. Anway, enjoy!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond

JOLLY

I stood in front of the coffee maker in our little makeshift kitchen on our bus as I waited for the coffee to brew. The usual cup I drank my coffee in hung from my fingers as I held it up in the air, the black letters spelling my name read upside down. There were deep brown stains etched into the ceramic and I mumbled to myself that I should wash it.

Once the coffee was poured over the old stains, I eased onto the couch while browsing through the emails in my inbox. Even though Finding God Before God Finds Me was released last year, the record label was pressuring us to write the next album which is the email I was reading right now. Matt told them that once the tour was over, we'd buckle down and start but that didn't seem to satisfy them.

A humming tune filtered from the back of the bus and I quickly recognized it as Noah. He was humming a tune that wasn't familiar to me and I leaned on my knees so I could look back into the bunk area of the bus, smirking when I saw him dancing; the tune getting louder.

Someone's in a good mood.

Ever since he and Y/N returned from the funeral a few days ago, Noah's spirits were surprisingly lifted. We were afraid he would come back in a catatonic state but he had a large smile on his face. They wouldn't say it but we knew something happened while they were gone.

Noah finally caught my amused expression, and he stilled, a red hue crossing over his cheeks. "I didn't know you were awake."

I hummed while taking a long sip of coffee. "Care to explain what has you in a jolly mood?"

He rolled his eyes while throwing a shirt at me. "Your dad jokes are getting worse."

"Avoiding the subject, I see," I teased while catching the shirt.

Noah shut himself in the bathroom but not before flipping me off.

NOAH

Shaking out the water from my hair, I stepped into the front area of the bus, not surprised to see Chase and Malcolm lounging on our couches. We just arrived to the venue but didn't have to worry about soundcheck until way later so we planned on hanging out on the busses. I noted how close the two of them sat next to each other, Chase's knee bumping with Malcolm's.

"You two should travel with us at this point since you're always here," I joked while grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and sitting next to Nick at the dinette table.

"If we could talk Y/N into it, we would," Malcolm grumbled.

Looking closer at them, I noticed the bruised knuckles on both of their hands.

"What the hell happened?"

Chase rubbed his head. "The other night, we got into it with Trey. We were tired of watching him treat Y/N like how he has and had enough."

I let out a low whistle while my heart hammered in my chest at hearing her name. "I'd hate to see what he looks like."

"Let's just say he's lucky he had a few days off to lick his wounds," Malcolm said.

"Where's Y/N, anyway?" Folio asked while sitting next to Jolly.

Malcolm drummed his fingers over his thigh as he sat back against the couch. "She's locked herself in her bunk because she doesn't want anyone to see her."

"Did something happen?" I rushed out in one breath while grabbing the water bottle tightly, the loud crackling noise echoing throughout the bus.

"She's fine. Actually, more than fine. She's in such a great mood she's been humming around the bus a lot lately. I think she's working on a new song," Chase said.

My stomach burned with the best intensity knowing that I was the reason for that.

"But the reason she doesn't want to see anyone is because she's afraid you guys will make a big deal out of today," Malcolm added.

"What's today?" I asked with a raised brow.

"It's her birthday," Chase informed.

Nick and I shared a look, almost immediately thinking the same thought.

"Text her and tell her you need to show her something inside the venue," I nodded towards Chase.

With his phone in his hand, fingers typing away, he still shot me a weary look. "What are you planning, Noah?"

I stood from the table and looked towards Folio. "Text Matt and say we need to borrow the van again today."

He winced. "He's still pretty upset about the sand in the van. I don't know if he'll let us."

"Matt will get over it," I shrugged while rummaging through my suitcase to grab a few things. "We're not going to let her spend her birthday alone on the tour bus."

Chase and Malcolm rose and muttered something under their breath to themselves before the latter ran a hand through his long auburn hair.

"It seems like you've got something planned but if I can suggest something?"

I set the beanie on top of my head and then nodded. "Of course."

"There's this Dasio store in town that she not so subtly brought up on the way here," Malcolm said.

"Oh, the one in that little outlet mall in town? It had the jewelry store right next to it? I saw it," Nick said nodding.

Chase held up his phone towards us. "She wants to know what I want to show her inside the venue."

Shit, I thought she'd take the bait.

I shrugged on my black hoodie. "I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

Everyone smirked at my mischievous voice, and Malcolm motioned towards their bus. "She's alone so don't have to worry about any surprises."

"Meet you guys at the van."

Bounding down the stairs of my bus, I jogged the few feet distance to Hollow Souls bus and quietly sneaked inside where I heard a noise coming from her bunk. Ignoring how similar our buses looked, I stood in place, body frozen, as the soft melody of her voice crept deep inside my bones.

"But for now we stay so far til our lonely limbs connect. I can't keep you in my arms so instead you'll be in my mind."

I clutched my chest as she sang the words a few more times in different octaves of voice, trying to find the one that worked best. It wasn't anything like how she sang on stage. This had more passion behind the words and if I saw her, I bet her eyes would be closed in concentration, soft lips breathing out the words.

Fuck.

Shifting on my feet at the feeling of all the blood running to my dick as I remembered our kiss, I returned my focus to the whole reason I snuck on the bus. Yanking the curtain to her bunk back, I smirked as Y/N let out a shrilled shriek while covering her face with shaking hands.

"What the fuck, Noah! You scared the shit out of me," she seethed with no ounce of venom behind it.

My lips curled up in a lopsided smile. "Happy birthday, angel."

She stared up at me from her bunk with a surprised gaze but then a low scowl fell on her lips. "They told you?"

Ignoring her, I pointed to her outfit of black biker shorts and a black fitted tank; to me, she looked fucking breathtaking in this simple outfit, but I wanted to make sure that's what she wanted to wear out today. This day was about her and whatever she wanted, I'd give it to her.

"Fine with wearing that?" I asked.

I saw the way her eyes dwindled as the fight within her mind took over.

"Why?" She dragged out the word.

"Because you have two seconds to decide if you want to change or not. It's your choice; I'm not going to force you to change if you're happy with how you look."

She had her long hair pulled back in a tight braid but there was one small strand that hung into her eyes and she brushed it away eventually giving me a small nod.

"I'm happy with wearing this," her voice was quiet almost afraid that I'd change my mind.

My tongue darted out to wet my lips, an action she watched with intent eyes. "Good."

"What are you-?"

With my hand around her ankle, I slid her off of her bunk and threw her over my shoulder to carry her out of her bus. She protested by smacking my back but remembered what I told her the last time she was in this position.

"My shoes!" She yelled.

I turned around in a giant circle so fast; that she giggled with pure delight. It made my heart ache with the need to always hear that sound.

"Which ones?"

Y/N did the best she could to point in the right direction. "The bunk above mine has my shoes. Grab my docs."

Swiping them, I continued my run down the stairs to the outside air, her body bounding against my shoulder.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked.

"No, you're fine, Noah," she giggled. "But I'd love to know why you're kidnapping me."

I playfully scoffed. "It's not kidnapping if you're going to enjoy this."

Her nails scratched at my back and I shivered under her touch. "Hm, don't tempt me with a good time."

Swallowing thickly the desire to throw her against the bus to attack her lips again, I walked towards the van just in time to see Folio emerge from our bus.

"Shit, I didn't grab a jacket," Y/N cursed.

"Folio, can you grab my leather jacket? The one on my bunk?"

He raised a brow. "You sure you want that one?"

"Special occasion," I smirked while gently patting Y/N's ass.

"Hey!" she protested. "I'm way too old for birthday spanks!"

Don't fucking tempt me, angel.

Once we reached the van, I set her gently on her feet when Jolly and Nick took turns in a birthday celebratory hug. As much as she wanted to be upset about us celebrating her, the smile on her face gave her away. Chase wrapped an arm around her and left a kiss on her forehead while Malcolm did his typical fist bump.

"Happy birthday, kid." He said.

"Kid?" Her brows pulled together. "I'm older than you, dumbass."

Malcolm's fingers gently brushed across Chase's and I tilted my head at the small action.

"Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes.

Chase whispered something low in Y/N's ear and I watched as her face turned stone for a few brief seconds before giving a slow nod.

"I'm fine, Chase. The cramps haven't been that bad."

"Did you take your meds?" Malcolm asked. "I know you were worried about getting it refilled while on the road."

Y/N locked eyes with me for a few long seconds but before I could ask anything about whatever meds Malcolm was talking about, she turned her back to me so they could have their private conversation.

"Happy birthday!" Folio beamed his usual bright smile before giving her a high five and handed me my jacket with the free hand.

The smack echoed throughout the entire parking lot, and she hissed out in pain, shaking her hand.

"Y/N gets shotgun!" I raised my hand in the air, deciding it would be best to ignore the private conversation she had with Malcolm and Chase.

If she wanted me to know, she would tell me.

Y/N quickly shot me down. "No. I'm fine sitting in the back."

"Not going to happen, angel, it's your day. You ride front and center."

Even though we were almost ready to leave, we were waiting for Bryan who wanted to tag along to create a vlog day video for us. There was a chain-like fence that blocked off the edge of the parking lot with the sidewalk and I sat on it while I waited. Y/N watched me with a careful gaze and arms crossed over her chest.

"Please be careful, Noah."

"It's pretty sturdy. See?" I held onto it while jumping on my feet.

But my heart jumped into my throat when I felt myself lean too far forward and as I prepared myself to fall face-first into the concrete, Y/N's arms wrapped around me to save me.

"Shit, thanks," I muttered while back on my feet and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Looks like I'll be catching you when you fall," she winked.

I looked down at her full lips and the same pull that connected us made me dip my head low to close the distance when Bryan's loud voice caused me to take a step back.

"Matt wants us to bring some mochis for him since he's letting us borrow the van."

Jolly rolled his eyes. "Of course he does."

Bryan raised his camera towards Y/N. "Happy Birthday!"

When the large smile spread across her face as she threw up a peace sign, posing for the picture, my heart swelled inside my chest and the butterflies fluttered their wings at a rapid pace.

She's fucking beautiful.

"Hey!" We all turned our attention to the person who shouted, seeing Matt poke his head out from the crew's bus. "Be back by one for sound check! And fill up the van when you're done!"

"Yes, sir!" Y/N saluted.

Even though he was flipping her off, Matt smiled as he wished her a happy birthday.

"Alright, we should go," I wrangled everyone up into the van and then slid behind the wheel.

Once we were all settled, I handed Y/N the aux cord. "Birthday girl gets to choose the music."

She broke out in a wide grin and quickly pulled up some music on her phone. "I know exactly who I'm putting on."

Malcolm, who was sitting in the middle row with Chase and Bryan, leaned forward towards Y/N. "Joe?"

"Hell yes."

"Who's Joe?" I asked with a raised brow but kept my eyes on the road.

"Joe Mulherin. But he goes by the stage name nothing, nowhere," Y/N informed before deciding on a song.

I shrugged as the strum of notes played on the speakers. "I've never heard of him."

"He's pretty small, few people know about him," Malcolm said.

"Malcolm was the one who told me about nothing, nowhere. I've been obsessed with him the last year," Y/N admitted with a sheepish smile.

Taking my eyes off of the road for a brief second, I threw her a teasing wink. "Oh, should I be worried?"

"I don't know," Y/N rested her elbow on the armrest with her chin in her palm. "If Hollow Souls has the chance to tour with nothing, nowhere, I'm taking it."

"Over me?" I pushed out my bottom lip in mock disappointment.

She flicked my nose with her finger. "Definitely."

Her giggles bounced off the confines of the van as I took off my beanie and tossed it to her, both of our smiles radiating light. With the music tangling in the air with the various conversations, I looked into the rearview mirror out of habit and noticed Chase tuck a strand of Malcolm's hair behind his ear.

Y/N saw my confused gaze and rested a hand on my knee, squeezing me. "They'll tell you later."

I rested my hand over hers and squeezed it. "Well, are you ready for the first stop on your birthday surprise?"

"I can't wait!"

Her eyes sparkled with the brightness that made my heart stop every single time she looked at me like that.

NOAH

"Y/N, look at this," I chuckled while throwing on a random animal hat I'd found in an aisle at the Dasio store.

She was looking through some merchandise with Nick and when she turned up her gaze at me; she burst out into a fit of giggles, her hand covering her mouth.

"Wow, I love the new look, Noah. You should go on stage with it tonight. I can see the memes now. 'this is your favorite metal singer?"

Bryan, who also thought it was hilarious snapped a few pictures which gave Y/N the idea too as well but with her phone. I gave her a wide smile as she snapped a few pictures and when she was finished, I took off the hat then handed it to her. She eyed it warily.

"What?"

"It's only fair I get some pictures of the birthday girl wearing it," I said with a small smile.

I thought for sure she would fight it instead she put the hat on happily and threw up a sideways peace sign. Bryan and I both took an insane amount of pictures before I pocketed my phone and figured now would be the perfect time to slip away for the next phase of her birthday surprise.

"Shit, we should probably head back to the venue for a soundcheck," I made a show of checking my watch.

It was only noon but I needed a diversion and also because we needed Nick to have enough time to set up for the third phase of Y/N's birthday celebration.

"I'll meet you guys at the van in ten minutes," I handed Y/N my leather jacket. "It's cold out now."

"Always looking out for me," she mused while slipping on the jacket.

Fuck, she looked so good wearing it.

The sudden urge to see her wearing more of my clothes filled me but I ignored it by clearing my throat. "I'll meet you at the van. Think of what you want for your birthday lunch."

Her hand caressed mine as I walked past her and every fiber of my existence buzzed with electricity.

"Where are you going?"

I leaned close to her ear; the words brushing against her skin. "If I tell you, then it ruins the surprise, angel."

With a wink, I jogged out of the Dasio store into the small shop right next door. The lady behind the counter gave me a warm smile as she beckoned me over with a wave.

"Hi there, what are we looking for today?"

"Uh," I rubbed my chin with nerves because I realized I didn't know what type Y/N likes. But can never go wrong with something simple. "Do you have any matching sets?"

I pointed down the silver array in the glass case, and the lady smiled. "Like his and hers?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"We'll look at the more feminine choices first before looking for some for you."

For the next few minutes, she helped me choose the best set for Y/N and me. When she was bagging everything up after I paid, she raised a curious brow.

"Whoever she is must be special."

"Yeah," my heart skipped a beat. "She really is."

READER

"No fucking way!" I squealed. "Are you serious?!"

Nick buzzed the gun in his hand a few times and finished setting up the small cups full of different colored inks.

"What did you want to get done?" Nick questioned.

My mind filled with different options and designs but knowing we were pressed on time for before the show tonight, I went with a small design from another one of my favorite animes My Neighbor Totoro.

"I've been wanting to get a small Totoro tattoo for a while now," I beamed. "Another one of my favorite animes."

"Alright, give me a few minutes to get it drawn up."

I wrapped my arms around Nick. "Thank you."

"Of course, Y/N. Happy birthday," he returned the hug.

"So, who's first? Me or you?"

Turning on my heels, I let Nick finish setting up and stared up at Noah, his words registering in my brain.

"Wait, you're getting a tattoo as well?" I asked.

He gave me a lazy smile. "Yep. I was going to get Aogaeru."

My eyes widened. "The frog from Spirited Away? Are you serious?"

Noah stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged as if this idea wasn't a big deal.

"It was the first movie we watched together in the hotel after Keaton's funeral. Means a lot to me."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You'd sit and get a tattoo with me?"

Noah brushed away a loose strand of hair that fell from my braid behind my ear, fingers trailing against the skin of my neck.

"I'd sit and watch ants crawl out of a hole for hours if that meant I'm sitting next to you," he vowed with hooded eyes as he stared down at my lips.

Memories of our kiss flashed in my mind, and I clenched my legs together. It had been days since then and every second since, the only thing I felt were his lips and how they tasted. It haunted my dreams in the best way and I craved to feel his kiss once again.

Trey. Don't forget about your boyfriend.

Right, the same boyfriend who didn't bother to say happy birthday before he left for his interview.

"I have something for you," Noah's deep voice snapped me out of my thoughts of his lips on every inch of me.

"Noah, you've done enough," I said.

He ran a hand through his hair before pulling out two velvet boxes from a bag that was sitting on the couch of the green room where we all were hanging out. My heart stopped for three seconds as he handed them to me.

"No-Noah," I stumbled over his name, shock filling me. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. Now open it."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I opened the box, and a gasp left my lips as the silver necklace and matching bracelet shined under the light of the room. It wasn't anything over the top and there were no diamonds but that didn't matter to me. I wasn't one for over-the-top jewelry, this simple chain and bracelet were enough.

With wet eyes, I gazed up at Noah, who had a nervous look on his face as he fiddled with his wooden rosary. "Do you like it?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into my embrace, burying my face into his neck. "I love it, Noah. Thank you so much."

His large hands gripped my hips as we stood there in each other's embrace for a few more long moments, enjoying the warmth of each other. My mind was racing in pace with how fast my heart was beating as the sudden realization hit. My feelings for Noah slammed into me like a fucking freight train and I nearly choked on them.

Noah leaves an imprint on me like I’ve never felt before. He is a permanent mark on my skin, deeper than any tattoo or scar. I can pinch myself and feel the pressure want to implode because he's burrowed there. Even if it imploded, it would heal over and Noah would still have his imprint on me. It seemed as if he was meant to be there and as I stared into his deep brown eyes, almost black with his feelings, I decided I never wanted to remove him.

"You know," Noah cleared his throat while stepping away from me. "I got-."

"Noah, can I talk to you quickly?"

Nick motioned Noah over to where he finished setting up for our tattoos.

"Go," I nodded. "I'm sure we'll have more time to talk tonight."

With a reluctant sigh, he squeezed my hand as he met Nick halfway. My gaze lingered at his back and my bottom lip caught between my teeth as I stared a little too long at the way his jeans hugged his ass.

Someone cleared their throat from behind causing me to jump and I gave Jolly a sheepish smile. "I wasn't-."

He hummed while taking a long sip of his beer. "I see everything, you know."

I pursed my lips while clearing my throat and adjusted the leather jacket; Noah's leather jacket. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jolly."

"You sure about that?" He motioned to the jacket.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked his chest playfully before going to sit on the couch in the green room.

NOAH

"What's up?" I asked Nick.

"You're getting matching tattoos with her?"

I ran a hand over my chin, already preparing myself for this conversation. I knew the guys wouldn't understand why I was doing this but as long as Y/N didn't mind, that's all that mattered.

"You're thinking too much into it, Nick. It's just a tattoo. Plus, it's not matching. I'm getting one from a different anime," I said.

He shrugged. "Can you blame me? I'm just worried you slipping too close to the edge for her and you're about to fall without someone there to catch you. We barely got you back the last time this-."

"Don't," I sliced my eyes into him. "I don't want to talk about her."

Nick let out a deep breath and nodded, patting my shoulder. "Alright. I'm just worried, that's all."

Guilt ate away at me when I realized I snapped at him when Nick was coming from a good place. She fucked me up years ago, and it was something I was still dealing with to this day.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Whenever she's brought up, I go back to that place, and today out of all days, I don't want to go there."

"What's taking so long?" Y/N came up beside Nick and poked his side. "Birthday girl is getting impatient."

I snorted. "You heard her, Nick."

For the next couple hours, we all chatted about our lives before becoming a band and I found out a lot about Y/N that I couldn't find out on the internet. She has a black cat back home in Vegas named Salem; a friend of hers takes care of him while she's on the road. She was adopted at six months old but her parents divorced when she was sixteen; her dad moved to Japan while her mom stayed in Vegas. She saw her dad every so often and wished that she moved with him instead of staying with her mom. Y/N felt like she had to stay with her because the divorce hit her mom hard which ended up almost destroying their relationship.

"Have you visited your dad recently?" Nick asked as he finished putting the cream over her fresh tattoo.

It was a small design of Totoro on her ankle; mine mirrored hers in design and placement.

"It's been a few years. I've been so busy with Hollow Souls that it's hard to take a trip that far. But I try to talk to him every day," she said with a smile.

"I'm sorry the relationship with your mom isn't the greatest," Jolly frowned.

Y/N shrugged. "I love her but sometimes she forgets how to be a mom. She'd rather be a friend."

Chase kissed the side of her head since he sat next to her on the couch. "It's her own fault. She's missing out on seeing the kick-ass women you've grown into, Y/N."

"Yeah, fuck her!" Malcolm cheered while finishing his second beer.

Y/N tried to chastise him for cursing her mom but eventually, she agreed with a curt nod.

I sat on the armrest of the couch next to her. "Our tattoos look sick."

"I still can't believe you got a Totoro tattoo just because I like it," she chuckled while resting a hand on my thigh.

"That's exactly why I got it, angel."

Folio handed her a drink before passing out the rest of the bottles to all of us and I raised my beer in the air. "Happy birthday, Y/N! I hope you had a great fucking day because you deserve it."

She tapped her bottle with everyone before she turned towards me, a glimmering light beneath her pupils. "Thank you, Noah, sincerely. You've made the last few weeks something truly memorable."

We clinked out bottles and as I brought it to my lips; she watched it with careful determination.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring and as I peered down at it, my heart sank low to the depths of my stomach.

Trey.

"What the fuck does he want," she grumbled while standing to her feet.

"I doubt it's to wish you a happy birthday. Prick has been gone all day for a two-hour interview," Malcolm said.

She waved him off as she slipped into the hallway, leaving the door cracked open a bit, just enough to hear parts of her conversation.

"You were the one who left me alone today, Trey."

"I didn't plan on celebrating my birthday today. Noah surprised me with everything, I would not say no."

"Holy Hades, you're delusional. Nothing is going on between us. He's just a friend."

The words would have stung if I believed her but I didn't. We both knew that our feelings for each other were more than friends; the kiss proved it. My lips tingled as I remembered how she tasted or the way her teeth grazed across my bottom lip.

"Why should I come to you? It's not like you have anything for me."

There was a long beat of silence. "I'm sorry but the last thing I want right now is mediocre birthday sex where you'll get to finish while I'm laying there getting myself off as you fall asleep."

I didn't know whether to be impressed at her witty comeback or upset at the fact that she was stuck with that kind of guy.

Why the hell did she continue to stay with him?

"You didn't even post anything about my birthday!" She seethed, her anger echoing into the room. "You might think it's stupid but I don't know; to me it means something. Fucking Bryan posted a video compilation for me."

"Bryan's their photographer you fucking dick! Oh, my Hades. Not every guy I hang out with is trying to sleep with me."

Bryan shifted in his seat. "This guy sounds like a real prick."

Chase drained half of his beer in one go. "We know."

While she continued to talk on the phone with Trey, I whipped out my phone with a small smile pulling at my lips.

READER

"Yeah, fuck you too," I spat while ending the call.

Trey promised that if I met him on the bus, he'd make my birthday worth it.

"He can't even find my spot, how the fuck is he going to make it worth it." I rubbed the frustration out on my forehead with a long, calming breath.

Many would ask why I continued to stay with Trey but the answer was simple; he was familiar.

A familiar asshole who doesn't deserve you.

That part was true. It was my birthday and what did Trey do? Nothing. While all the guys spent the last few hours making me feel so adored and thought of, Trey didn't even post on his social media for me but you know who did?

Trey and Malcolm made compilations of random pictures throughout our time in Hollow Souls together.

Both Nick's and Jolly posted pictures they took of me while on stage to say happy birthday.

Even Bryan posted a small video compilation of me from when we went to the zoo.

With my phone still in my hand, it buzzed letting me know I received yet another tag on Instagram. This post was the only one that made my heart stutter wildly in my chest. Two pictures. The first was the picture he took of me today at the Dasio store with the animal hat on my head. The second one was a picture of our tattoos. The words he wrote in the caption made the butterflies flutter in my gut.

Happy birthday @y/n! I'm not attempting to be corny or some shit on this app, but I will say this: tour and this whole experience has been sick, and it’s been such a privilege to be in your presence, your talent is beyond measure, you inspire me more than you know and I hope you enjoy yourself. You deserve it. 🧡 P.S. The tattoo I got today hurt like a bitch.

Of course, he limited the amount of comments on the post but that didn't stop the few fans that tossed their absurd accusations about the post.

"I'm so fucked." I muttered while double-clicking the picture.

NOAH

"Has anyone seen Y/N?" I asked while poking my head into the green room seeing Chase and Malcolm talking amongst themselves; pretty close.

When they heard me, they broke apart pretty fast, and I raised a brow to them while crossing my arms over my chest. "You guys don't have to hide this, you know?"

I could practically see the weight lift from Chase's shoulders as Malcolm held hands with him. "I told you, Chase; no one cares."

"It's not that. It's still new and I don't want to jinx it," Chase admitted.

"Well, good for you guys. I'm glad someone has a happy relationship in your band," I grumbled the last part to myself.

Malcolm snorted. "Why are you looking for Y/N?"

I held up a bottle of Hennessy. "Birthday shots before you guys go on stage."

Bad Omens finished their set a while ago with Y/N watching the entire time and every time I caught her eyes on side stage, I made sure to either wave or wink; something to let her know I was always thinking about her.

When Chase asked for the bottle, I tossed it to him. "I think she's on the bus getting ready."

Nodding to him, I quickly walked out of the venue and over to her bus with my nerves working into overdrive. I wanted to find her for birthday shots but there was also something I wanted to tell her; something that had been eating away at me for the last few days, since our kiss.

She needed to know the truth. I just hope she felt the same.

No, I shook my head. I know she did.

Hollow Souls bus was dark, with no sign of life, until I heard soft moans coming from the back bunk area and the sound of skin on skin.

"Shit, Trey. So good."

My jaw dropped in tangent with my heart as the feminine moans burned in my ears.

"Fuck, baby. You're so tight. I'm gonna-."

"Harder please."

"I'm better than him, right? He can't make you feel like this?"

"No, just you Trey."

I blinked slowly as my brain tried to process everything I was hearing. They were having sex, and she was enjoying it?

"Angel," I whispered as tears burned in my eyes.

Movement out of the window caught my attention just as Trey groaned out a name, one that wasn't Y/N's. It was white noise as I stared at my friend, who was outside laughing and smiling bright with Folio who was probably telling her the story about how he tried to catch this huge fish but ended up falling into the lake.

Oh, shit.

If Y/N was outside then who the fuck was in the bunk with Trey?

I fumed as I ran down the steps into the parking lot where Folio only stood, Y/N nowhere in sight. As he saw the anger radiating from me in waves, Folio stepped in front of me to stop me.

"Where's the fire, man?"

"Where's Y/N?" I asked, fingers shaking with the need to hit something.

"She's about to go on stage." Folio could sense something was off because he forced me to look at him. "What the hell is going on?"

Pressing my tongue to my cheek, I spat out the words like venom on my tongue. "I caught Trey cheating."

"Fuck," he cursed while running a hand over his face while pacing. "You're sure?"

I nodded. "Heard it loud and clear."

Nick and Jolly came down from our bus at that moment and immediately could feel the tension. "What's going on?"

Folio filled them in on what I had heard and they both had the same reaction as him.

"What are you going to do?" Jolly wondered.

I threw a hand towards the building. "I have to tell her; she deserves to know!"

"We know," Nick nodded. "But wait until after their set. Let her perform with a clear mind, alright? That's the last thing she needs to focus on while on stage."

"Fucking prick cheats on her on her birthday," Jolly fumed. "Who the fuck does that?"

As if he could hear us talking about him, Trey appeared from behind with a smug smile on his face and ran a hand through his messy curls. "Sorry, I missed your show, boys. I was kind of held up."

"Really? Cause I don't see Y/N anywhere," I stepped up into him.

Trey eyed me up and down. "My girlfriend is none of your business, Noah. Back off."

“She isn’t cattle for you to own, Trey. From what I’ve seen, you don’t love her. You were balls deep into someone less than ten minutes ago.”

“Shut the fuck up, man you don’t know anything," Trey pushed my chest.

Jolly stepped between us while both Nick and Folio grasped my arms to hold me back.

“No. No, I do. I see everything,” I said through gritted teeth.

Nick's tight grip on my forearm had me taking a large step away from Trey, letting out a deep breath.

"Might want to stick around for the show. I hear it's going to be one to remember," Trey flipped us off as he slithered inside the building.

"I really fucking hate him," I seethed.

NOAH

No. Fucking. Way.

I thought I was angry before but now; I was seeing red. Jolly and Nick flanked me on both sides while Folio stood off in front of me as we watched Hollow Souls finish their set. As usual, they killed it even with Trey but I couldn't focus on how beautiful Y/N looked tonight in her yellow flowy sundress or the white vans that seemed to glow underneath the stage lights. She took her hair out of her braid and it cascaded down her back in waves.

The only thing I could focus on was Trey and how he kept getting close to Y/N, wrapping an arm around her or even once trying to kiss her while she was on stage. She was uncomfortable; it was clear in the way her shoulders tensed when she kissed him back. My heart ached when I saw that but I couldn't dwell on the pain for long; I was buzzing as I waited for Y/N to come off stage so I could tell her what I heard but apparently, Trey had other plans.

"As some of you may know, today is Y/N's birthday so let's give her a huge round of fucking applause," Trey screamed into the mic.

Everyone in the crowd sang happy birthday along with Trey but neither Malcolm nor Chase helped, both seeing how uncomfortable Y/N was. It was if she shrunk into herself and let her hair fall into her face to hide.

"I love you so much, baby. Hollow Souls would be nothing without you. You truly make me a better man. I put a small video compilation together for you. You better like it," he ended his words with a wink.

Y/N's attention turned towards one of the large screens that we usually use for graphics for the show and immediately, everyone knew that this 'compilation' Trey threw together was a bunch of bullshit. It was mostly pictures of Trey with Y/N barely in the background or the pictures she was in were all of their media pictures. Not one personal picture he took of her.

As if she felt me watching, Y/N gazed over at me with a pleading look in her eyes.

"Alright, thanks so much Cincinnati! Have a good night and get home safe!" Malcolm called into the mic and cued the techs to start the nightly ritual of clean up.

Once she was cleared, Y/N sprinted off the stage over towards us but before I could even a second with her, Trey was hot on her tail.

"What, no thank you?" He demanded while grabbing her arm.

She ripped it from his grasp. "Fuck off! Why the hell would you do that? That stupid movie barely had any pictures of me!"

Trey clenched his jaw. "You're being ungrateful."

"Ungrateful?" she scoffed with wide eyes. "We both know the only reason you did that was because you wanted to one-up the guys. You don't give a shit."

"Baby, can we talk about this in private?" He tossed a glare towards us.

"Actually," I stepped towards her. "I really need to talk to you."

"I need to be alone," she mumbled under her breath.

Y/N pushed past me to continue her path outside where I followed behind, not ready to let this die. She needed to know the truth.

"Angel," I reached for her hand once we were outside.

"Noah, please," she let out a shaky breath. "I need to be alone."

I shook my head. "Give me five minutes."

"Oh, what's the problem wannabe Oli Sykes? Something upsetting you? Mad she won't spend the rest of her birthday with you?" Trey teased as he came up behind Y/N and wrapped an arm around her waist.

She brushed him off. "Can you give me a minute, Trey? Please, just a fucking minute."

Reluctantly he nodded but pulled her in for a heavy kiss and I averted my eyes down to my worn vans. I didn't need to watch as Y/N kissed him back for the briefest of moments before pushing on his chest.

"Two minutes then I want you on that bus, dress off," Trey smacked her ass before stalking up towards their bus.

Y/N wiped at her lips. "What do you want, Noah?"

"You can't go back to him, angel." I reached for her hand again and felt the weight around my heart ease when she intertwined our fingers together.

Tears burned in her eyes and I could tell she was seconds away from a breakdown.

"Why?" Her question wavered.

I swallowed the large lump in my throat. "He cheated on you, angel. I walked in on it."

Her broken stare barley lifted from the dirt on my shoes but the way she recoiled her hand from mine tightened the weight all over again.

"What?"

I tried to reach for her again but she smacked my hand away. "You're lying."

"I'm not," I shook my head. "Why would I lie to you about this?"

Her lips parted, nothing coming from her mouth, until she let out a stronger breath. "Be-because of the-."

Suddenly the anger intensified when I realized why she couldn't finish her sentence; she was afraid that if she said the word it would become real for her and force her to think about it.

"The kiss," I deadpanned. "You can say it, angel. We kissed. But that has nothing to do with Trey cheating on you!"

My voice was raised now, but I didn't care who heard. The only one that needed to be standing right in front of me.

"You're supposed to be my friend, Noah. Why would you even say that?"

Tears fell from her eyes and I had to force my hands into my pockets so I wouldn't wipe them away.

"That's why I'm telling you! And don't pull the friend card, you know this," I pointed between us. "Is more than that."

She turned her head away from me. "I don't know what you mean."

"Bullshit." I scoffed. "You know exactly how you feel, angel. Stop ignoring it."

"Did you see him?"

Her voice was so quiet, that I almost missed her question.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked dumbfounded.

"Did you see him?" She snapped, eyes slicing into me.

My nostrils flared. "No, but I heard him."

"Please, he could have been watching porn," she defended.

It was as if someone had slapped me across the face.

"I've listened to better audiobooks with sex than that," I said.

"Trey said you would do this. Tell lies to confuse me." She took a step away from me.

"You're taking his side over me? Even after everything he puts you through," I asked, dumbfounded.

She shook her head, not meeting my gaze again. "You don't get it."

"No, I get it loud and fucking clear, Y/N! You're so afraid of how you feel for me, for us, that you're staying with something familiar even though he treats you like shit!"

"There's no feelings here, Noah. That kiss was a mis-."

"Don't," I took a large step towards her. "We know it wasn't a mistake; we both wanted it."

Her tears stained her face, mascara leaving black trails underneath her eyes. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm used to this. I can handle it."

I stared at her for a long moment, shocked that she was taking Trey's side. Yes, I might not have seen him, but I know what I heard.

"Fine," I eventually nodded and ran an aggravating hand through my hair. "When you wake up from this delusional world you're in, you know where to find me."

With a final look of betrayal, I left her standing in the middle of the parking lot, her soft cries running daggers into my chest.

[kaeyahiya]

"Unrequited Enemies" (NSFW)

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Pairing: Ayato x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW/Explicit content, use of y/n if that bothers you,use of feminine parts, enemies to lovers (kinda), swearing, and mentions of marking, a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut

Disclaimer: This is intended for adult viewing only, I have plenty of SFW content on my master list so please check that out instead. I am strongly discouraging and actively not condoning the consummation of this content for anyone who is a minor.

Word count: 5687 OH MY GOD???

Authors note: This is LONG the longest thing I think I've written to date. This counts as like a full fic, should be like a multi chapter type beat. It's a long read but dare I say this might be my best work yet. Anway, I haven't written anything for Ayato bc he was a faceless ncp before I went on my hiatus.... I am also in love with man and couldn't stand the thought of this. Hence I'm writing a self serving fic bc I'm incredibly selfish rn and need some of this man in my life. Also I enjoy a good enemies to lovers troupe sue me!! ALSO ALSO THIS IS GENDERED HAHAHAHA finally if you see my master list it's all been GN so ha I did it. Anyway enjoy me being selfish 🧍🏻‍♂️(edit) Future self here... This took me almost a month to write, this turned into a novel and I apologize....

This will also be crossposted on my A03 probably bc of the girth of this beast. You can read it: Here if you prefer that interface better

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Working under the Kamisato's was a blessing. Truly it was. You considered yourself exceptional in hospitality and an ace seamstress. That's how the Kamisato clan sought you out.

Lady Ayaka was kind, the easy one to put it bluntly. Her tasks were normal simply as asking you to clean her linens or making small repairs on her formal wears. (Which Thoma would normally jump in to help, cleaning and sewing was also his forte). Genuinely, she was the nicest noble person you've ever seen, still managing to keep an air of excellence and gracefulness to her despite her overly kind nature. 

Working there is what kept you and your family fed and you were able to have a safe haven during the Vision Hunt Degree when being a vision holder yourself was hard to avoid.

However, working under the Kamisato's wasn't easy work by any means.

The head of the household was where the issue lied when it came to your work. Kamisato Ayato, you swear had it out for you since you arrived to work for them. One day he'd have you doing mundane tasks like taking inventory of the spices in the kitchen, and the next it would be making him tea over and over until it was the exact temperature he liked.

Not to mention all the constant repairs on his clothes you'd have to do, whether it be taking care of personal matters or training with his sister he'd always come back with piles of clothes in need of huge repairs.

You probably would have punched the pretty smirk off of "Lord Ayato's" face if it wasn't for poor Thoma keeping you afloat. You feel bad but while he cooks, you normally lament your frustrations to him. He'll occasionally offer his support or advice, since after all he's your senior and also a fellow outsider of Inazuma.

"Miss, your presence is requested in Lord Ayato's office." the guard locks eyes with you. You want to groan in agony, you were hungry and tired but still you mustered a smile. " I'll head over right now, thank you."  You say with a small bow. Once the guard exits you you finally let out a long groan looking to Thoma for support. "Can't you go instead, at least you can put up with his nonsense." You sigh exasperated.

After one particularly frustrating day of repairing both Lord Ayato's and Lady Ayaka's training wear entirely and aiding another with mending their Shinai Practice Swords (The bamboo ones, commonly used in kendo??), which were almost beyond repair. You find yourself once again in the kitchen with Thoma going on and on about the day before a dreaded guards men enter.

Thoma chuckles. "I believe a 'Miss' was summoned, I'd be scolded if I showed up, besides I'm cooking. Unless you wanna deliver food to the entire staff and the Lord and Lady." You wrap him lightly on the back of his shoulder. " Fine, but if I wind up dead it's your fault." You joke. You excuse yourself and exit the kitchen; then head for your doom, Lord Kamisato's office.

-

You stand outside his office, the dimly lit Shoji (those paper sliding door things?) showing the silhouette of menace himself just waiting for you.  "(Y/N) here My Lord." You grit your teeth. "You may enter." You can almost hear the sadistic smile in his voice. Sliding open the door you're immediately confused on why you are here.

Ayato looked right as rain, clean and on top of that his office looked organized and practically sparkling (you'll have to thank Thoma for that later), boba tea full, and a small before dinner snack fully eaten. What more could he need at this hour. "Ah yes, Miss (Y/N)" his eyes lock with yours. "I've seemed to have spilled ink on my clothes. I need them cleaned immediately before dinner is finished." Though the room was dimly lit, you could clearly see there was no ink anywhere on Ayato's clothing.

"My lord I don't-" before you can even finish getting the word's out, Ayato takes the ink on his desk and proceeds to dump its contents all over his clothing. All the while that signature sadistic smile plastered on his face. You face contorts, you try to conceal the seething hot rage from pouring out of your mouth. (Un)Luckily Ayato speaks first. "I'm sorry you were going to say something? Go ahead, I apologize for my clumsiness."

Your mouth opens but you quickly close it. You're dumbfounded. His informal attire is mostly white, similar to his training attire, getting ink of that amount out in such a short amount of time would be nearly impossible. As you continue to stand there in silence you can see Ayato absolutely blossom with happiness.

A few more seconds pass until you collect yourself enough to speak calmly. "I'll fetch you some other clothing to change into while I tend to your..." Your eyes narrow at him. " Accident. " Words laced with venom at the end. He nods, smiling. " Go ahead, I'll be right here. Do be quick though, I hear ink is a pain to get out the longer you leave it. " He smirks.

You bow rigidly before bolting out the door to his quarters to grab him some fresh clothing.  Returning to the lion's den, you announce yourself once more. "You may enter," Ayato calls out again. Sliding open the door he promptly stands up this time.

You don't say a word but hold out the clean clothes to him. "My my, that was fast." He smiles. You don't answer but begin to turn to exit so he can change in private.  "No need to be so shy. You're practically one of my retainers at this point. "

You quickly turn around deciding to face the door instead of him, face red with embarrassment this time. You hear the rustling of the rest of his clothes. After a few awkward quiet moments with your thoughts filled with annoyance and somehow Lord Ayato's bare chest and perfect stupid abs, he finally speaks again. "I'm dressed." You pivot to see him again, back in pristine condition, however not bothering to pick up the ink stained clothes off the ground.

Retainer??? Since when? Where's your pay raise? That's all that runs through your mind as you stare at him dumbfounded. You don't realize until you snap out of your train of thought Ayato has already started stripping, his bare chest on full display. "Miss (Y/N) I don't mind if you watch, but watching me so intensely is unnecessary." You didn't think that smirk could get any bigger but it does.

You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in and kneel to grab the stained clothes scattered around his feet. You go to grab a sleeve and the bastard has his foot still on the article of clothing. Giving it a little tug as a hint to move, Ayato simply looks down at you with a smile. "Oh my apologies, didn't realize I was standing on it and hindering your precious time to get those pesky stains out." He steps out of your way and plants himself back to his desk. Asshole is all that runs through your mind as you gather the clothes.

Once again you quickly excuse yourself and rush to the medical bay to grab some balls of cotton and rubbing alcohol. Storming back into the kitchen you decide you need to get this frustration out and combat this stain at the same time.

-

You definitely startle Thoma as you slide open the Shoji with little to no care of its fragility. "Listen I'm sorry, Lord Ayato is fucking awful."  You say holding up the stained clothing to accentuate your point.

You recount your encounter with the Lord of the house to Thoma all the while desperately scrubbing the ink out with the rubbing alcohol. "He's a sadist Thoma, he hates me I'm sure of it. Why on earth would he do this." Thoma turns to the area of the table you're vigorously scrubbing at ,now almost finished with dinner at this point, offers you a pot of cold water and soap to help you finish cleaning the stain. "That's just Lord Ayato, and hey maybe it was a genuine mistake."  He shrugs. "Thoma, I saw him pick it up and dump it on himself."

You move over a bit to let Thoma work his laundry magic. Taking the garment from you, which was now almost its original color, he washes it in the aforementioned cold soapy water. After some more scrubbing he pulls it out. Looking as radiant as it did on Ayato before he went and soiled it.  "Thoma I'm sorry for roping you into this... I appreciate you." He smiles nudging you softly. " Stop that, you'd do the same for me if I needed that level of help. " You're glad Thoma is always here to save your ass. 

"I may have done the best I can but it won't dry before dinner, since I'm almost done with it." You grab your Anemo Vision and wave it in front of him and he lets out a 'Oh yeah...' before he smiles radiantly. "You got this then, dry it quick and as soon as you're done I'll serve dinner. Hopefully that'll buy you a bit of time. " You bow to Thoma, thanking him profusely. You exit the kitchen before running to the courtyard to swiftly dry the Lord's clothes with a little help from your Vision.

-

After making quick work of drying the clothes. (Thank you Anemo Archon). You inspect the clothes one last time and decide they are pristine enough for him. Carefully folding them, you proceed to slide down the hall to Ayato's office once more. 

For the final time of the night you announce yourself. "Miss (Y/n) back so soon?" he says as you enter. His eyes narrow in on the clothes in your hands. "I'm more than pleased with your speediness. However, folding them will definitely crease them." You wordlessly unfold the clothes, gesturing to the creaseless stainless garments. "I see... Very well then, I will change after dinner."  

His eyes light up again and you regret opening your stupid mouth. "Ah yes, Thoma should be along with my dinner soon. My arms are awfully tired from writing documents all evening..." There it is again that fucking sadistic grin. "Stay here and feed me will you?" You can't stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. "What? Why?" Clapping a hand over your mouth. He didn't like that, you can tell as you watch sadism on his face fade to confusion. "Because you serve under me and I'm telling you to do so." 

Taking the clothes from your hands, Ayato purses his lips briefly as your fingers touch during the exchange.  You grimace at him, typical of him to be disgusted by touching you even for a millisecond. You quickly rearrange your face before asking the dreaded question. "Can I help you with anything else my Lord?"

Right. You forgot. You're supposed to be like Thoma, a loyal dog who does what it's told. Maybe that's what you're supposed to do but this was an outlandish request. However, knowing the wrath of Kamisato Ayato, you flop yourself in the corner in defeat, not bothering to put up a fight. You press your knees up to your chest, glancing at Ayato's, once again, happy smirk. He too proceeds to sit back down, at his desk.

A heavy silence fills the room as Ayato resumes his work. You want to yell at him, kick and scream, but overall you just wanted to cry. You're so embarrassed for what's to come and your mind is reeling. The tears brimming your eyes burn as you try to continue putting on a strong front. You refuse to let this asshole see you cry.

Thoma must be taking his time because amongst the scribbling mixed in with silence you have a lot of time to think. You evaluate your position. You signed up for this, but did you really? A maid sure, but dealing with a sadistic brat? No, that wasn't in the job description. Or maybe that was the plan all along, maybe it just happened along the way? You weren't sure at this point and you felt bitter and defeated.

"Lord Ayato?" Your voice comes out horse. "Hmm?" He questions. "Why do you trouble me with the most torturous and utterly embarrassing tasks?" You stare him down. He looks shocked you dare question his authority. He opens his mouth to answer? maybe yell at you? But as if the Archons themselves are taunting you, Thoma announces himself. "My Lord you dinner is ready, may I enter?" Ayato fixes his gaze on you for a second longer than needed before responding to Thoma. "Thoma. Yes, you may enter." He answers 

Thoma comes in hands full of all of the dishes Ayato requested tonight. He almost doesn't see you in the corner for a second but being the loyal retainer he is, the actual retainer of Ayato, he says nothing but shoots you a sympathetic glance. "Thoma, please let Miss (Y/n) help you with the rest of your food deliveries. I wish not to be disturbed the rest of the night." Ayato says using a voice he normally only uses when talking with other officials. It's cold, a lot colder than usual. The blood drains from your face and a knot forms in your stomach, you fucked up big time.  

-

Three days. It was three days of terrifying tranquility, free of summoning from Lord Ayato.

Lady Ayaka assured you, as well as your job, were fine. The looming anxiety however had you on edge, you couldn't sleep fearing you'd be assassinated in the middle of the night. After all Kamisato Ayato hated being questioned, the only thing you were sure he hated more was you. Death would be the only solution right? 

You were in the courtyard, it was evening and everyone was eating dinner. Thoma approached you gently tapping your shoulder. "Dinner is ready for you in the maid's quarters... But uh, Lord Ayato wishes to see you in his quarters before dinner." He says sheepishly. You groan looking to Thoma “If you don't see me tomorrow, assume the worst." You joke but deep down felt your stomach drop. It had been three days of not seeing him, who knows what kind of punishment you'd receive. 

Thoma gave you a reassuring smile as you bid him farewell and headed from the courtyard to the personal quarters of Kamisato Ayato. It's not like you haven't been there before, but something still felt off about addressing your punishment not in his office but your room. 

So there you were, standing in front of the looming door to the man who was about to decide your fate. You swallow hard before addressing your arrival. "My Lord, (Y/n) here. Thoma said you requested my presence..." Your voice came out a lot shakier than you'd like to admit. Frankly you were terrified. There was, what felt like, an eternity of silence before he finally responded. "Come in."

Your hands waver as you pull the Shoji door open. It was almost pitch black inside Ayato's room. He was sitting under a Kotatsu with his dinner finished. His eyes immediately fixed on you as you entered. "Miss (Y/n) please sit. There's something I'd like to discuss with you." Fuck. Your family will be so upset if you lose this job, what will you do for work, where will you live? Sure you hate Ayato but you for the most part enjoy your job and- No no no you can't spiral right now. 

You suck in a composed breath and take a seat opposite him under the Kotatsu. "What is it, my Lord?" You ask meekly. He closes his eyes, sighing. "I.. You see.." He's uncharacteristically fidgety. "My sister has brought it to my attention that I've been causing you much strife lately." You want to laugh, lately he says, it's been since day one but okay sure. You grit your teeth. "As you said before, I serve under you. It's my duty, I suppose." You respond promptly. As much as it hurts your pride to admit you needed this job. You belong here and you won't go down without a fight. "I see." He says, sighing again. 

" (Y/n)... You loathe me do you not?" He locks eyes with you, as if boring directly into your soul. " My Lord, of course not. I'm grateful to serve the Kamisatos." He shakes his head. " Miss (Y/n), from the moment you arrived here you've seemed to take a disliking to me. I'm just trying to understand what started it. Please be cooperative." 

Huh? You? You're the problem in this situation? You know what fuck your job. "Kamisato Ayato, I do believe from the moment I arrived here you've made me do the most outlandish things and have, frankly, acted like a brat. If anyone hated anyone first it'd be you." You bang your fist on the table of the Kotatsu. "I'm a mere maid trying to make a living, not a babysitter or a toy for a spoiled noble's amusement." 

He has the audacity to laugh. "I'm sorry I seem to be missing the joke here my Lord. Please share so I too can laugh at the very serious call concerns I just raised." You glare at him. He smiles trying to suppress his laughter. "(Y/n) no one has ever talked to me like that before..." You pause. You've never seen Ayato look so pleased in your presence before. 

"Shamefully I'll admit, I enjoyed hearing your true feelings about me." He fidgets under the Kotatsu again. "For the record, I never hated you. I enjoy teasing you, and I'll admit I take things to an extreme. For that I apologize for the suffering I put you through." You're stunned at his apology. The head of the Kamisato clan apologized to you? " My Lord I..." Your words catch in your throat and all the anxiety built over the past three days spills out of your eyes. The one thing you swore you'd never do happens, you're crying in front of Ayato. 

Instinctively Ayato rushes to your side of the Kotatsu kneeling next to you handing you his handkerchief. You take it and turn away from him as you try to repress your sobs. "(Y/n) I'm so sorry, I didn't realize... I..." He turns you to face him. His face is almost unrecognizable, maybe from the blurry vision of your tears, but his face laced with pure concern and gentleness. "I apologize for being so bold to ask but my I... Hug... You?" H u h?  Your world feels like it's been turned upside-down. Ayato is being nice to you, and the craziest part is you kind of enjoy how it makes you feel. A half hour ago you would've never dreamed you'd be in this situation. 

You cautiously nod and Ayato gently pulls your much smaller form into his chest. You sniff, still calming down from your episode. Ayato gently strokes your back. It sends shivers down your spine but you don't... hate it?? You're conflicted at this moment. A man who was once so cruel to you is now being the perfect gentleman. 

While battling your thoughts Ayato fills the silence. "When my sister and I were young, she would often hurt herself by accident. While she cried, I'd hold her like this until she would calm down." You hum softly. You're unsure what to say. This whole situation feels like a twisted dream. You feel like any moment you'd wake up in your bed and the sinister Ayato you'd known up until now would return.

You glance up at him, his eyes are closed as he still is gently stroking your back. He looks peaceful, a small gentle smile on his face. You dare even concur he looks rather handsome like this. Your face turns red as you now realize the situation you're in. Kamisato Ayato is holding you. Even worse, you're enjoying it.

One of his eyes opens and peers down at you. His smile gets wider but remains gentle still. "Feeling better?" He asks. "I think so. I apologize for my outburst My Lor-" "Ayato..." "Huh?" "You can apologize but please use my name, not my title." You snort with a smile, there's the Ayato you know. "I apologize for my actions Ayato. For the record as well, I don't hate you either." 

You pause for a brief second confused by your own confession, then words continue to spill out of your mouth. "I think I hated the way you treated me and just assumed you hated me. Besides you'd make me do silly things and would cause problems just for me to fix, making my life harder, it was frustrating but..." Ayato tips your chin up from his chest. You both stare at each other in silence.

Whatever rambles you had in your mind vanished and all you can think about now is how pretty his eyes are and how you never noticed until right now.  Ayato leans down, your lips inches apart from his, you can feel the heat of his lips radiating on to yours. "May I be bold once more Miss (Y/n)?"  You say nothing, you're absolutely frozen so he continues. "I think I did all of that because I'm positively enamored by you." Then closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you.

His lips are soft and as his hand moves from your back to your waist you find yourself kissing him back. It's gentle but tender, all that pent up rage for the man you once loathed melts and in this moment it feels like you two are the only ones in the world. He pulls away first. You stare at him, he looks positively breathtaking now. His other hand runs a finger over your bottom lip then joins his other hand on your waist. "If you hate it please tell me to stop, and I will." You shake your head. "Please... Continue."

-

His lips meet yours again this time with more passion. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently part your lips. Ayato takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss further, sliding his tongue gently into your mouth. His hands wonder about your body while he kisses you. You can't deny the sparks that follow in the wake of his touch. 

You part briefly to catch your breath and Ayato uses this as an opportunity to explore your neck. You tilt your head to the side giving him more access. He chuckles softly at your action. "So responsive." He teases against your neck. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself and keep kissin-" He bites down on your neck leaving whatever grip you had planned to die in throat and gets replaced with a soft moan. He lavishes the bite with his tongue and you're positive that's gonna be a mark you'll have to cover tomorrow morning. He tugs at the corner of your kimono staring into your eyes asking for silent permission to continue. 

Taking the hint you boldly slide down the shoulder of your kimono to let him continue. He smirks as continues his conquest from your neck to your newly exposed collarbones. Placing soft kisses on them while making quick work of sliding the top half of your kimono off, leaving the excess fabric to hang around your waist. The cold night air hits your skin leaving your exposed top half covered in goosebumps. Ayato reaches around to your back feeling for the clasp of your bra. "May I?" His voice comes out soft, filled with lust against the shell of your ear. "Please." You whimper.   He skillfully unclasped the bra freeing your breasts from the confines. Instinctively you cover your, your face bright red with embarrassment with another realization Kamisato Ayato, your boss, is about to see your naked body. 

Ayato wraps a warm hand around your wrist, planting a kiss on the inside of it. "If you're nervous we can stop here. If not..." His eyes wander to his bed, which is partially skewed from your vision due to the folding screen for Ayato's privacy sake. "No I want to continue... I just..." You laugh. "I don't want this to affect my job you know?" Ayato chuckles back. "I promise you it won't." You blush slowly unfolding your arms. "In that case..." He smiles, that's all the permission he needs and in one swift motion stands up and hoists your half clothes body over his shoulder, like you weighed nothing. 

He takes a few steps and throws you on to his bed, one you've made many times before and one you'll probably have to make again after this. He takes advantage of you getting comfortable to take off his top. You're once again faced with Ayato's bare torso, this time you are able to ogle at it as much as you'd like. "You're staring again." He says with a smug expression, climbing on the bed now towering over you. "Am I not allowed to My Lord?" You quip back. 

He raises an eyebrow and then you see that expression on him that you used to loathe, that sadistic smile. "I suppose I'll allow it tonight. I'll even do you one better." He once again grabs your wrists, this time places your hands on his bare chest, abs, shoulders. But Ayato being Ayato was in control of your movements Giving you the satisfaction of feeling his smooth skin but not giving you control to do so as you please. "Ayato..." You whine. He just laughs before releasing your hands and leans back down to kiss you again. 

While kissing you his hands wander to your breasts giving them a little squeeze. You can feel him smile in the kiss when you let out a small moan. "Sensitive?" He asks. You nod in response, worried your words will betray you. His kiss trails back down your neck to your breasts this time. Taking a nipple in his mouth and biting and suckling on it you can help but cover your mouth and whine in pleasure. He takes his other hand and messages the other breast pinching your other nipple occasionally. 

Your core was practically aching for friction at this point you wiggle your hips. Ayato's attention shifts again. "How cute.. Someone's needy." He says after releasing your breast from his mouth. He shifts his attention to untie your obi to get the rest of your pesky kimono out of the way. When he does you catch a glimpse of the sizable bulge in his pants. "I could say the same for you." You tease. "Can you blame me?" He responds as you lift your hips so you can let him discard your kimono on the floor. "Besides, your one to comment when your panties have a wet spot." He states bluntly as he slides off the bed dragging you by the hips to set you at the side of the bed. 

Ayato plays with the waistband of your panties eyes once again meeting your asking for silent permission to go on. As if you would stop him now. He must take your silence for reassurance because he drags your panties down your hips and discards them somewhere with your kimono. He parts your legs and spreads your pussy open. "You're soaked..." He sounds breathless as he stares at your glistening hole. "Don't stare!" You protest as you attempt to close your legs, admittedly flustered. Ayato, of course, overpowers you by keeping you legs spread and plants a firm's kiss on your clit. 

He takes his time eating you out. Making sure to tease all the spots he gets a good reaction out of you. Your grip on the beds' silken sheets will tear somehow. Ayato looks up at you making eye contact with you before sucking on you clit particularly hard. You almost cum right there. After a one more delicate kiss on your core he brings his fingers up to your mouth. "Suck on these for me please." He says. Instinctively you take his fingers in your mouth. The flush across his face as you tease the tips of his fingers is something you'll definitely be thinking about later. 

Once Ayato decides you've soaked his fingers enough he gently pulls them from your mouth. You let out a whine and Ayato takes the opportunity to spread your legs a bit wider. "Oral fixation... Good to know." He teases. Taking his now wet fingers he gently prods at your damp fold locking eyes with you as he slowly inserts a finger into you. You bring a hand out to cover the guttural moan that spills from your mouth. 

Ayato looks up at you, eyes boring into yours. "You better keep your voice down, we don't want the entire estate to know I'm giving my 'disobedient maid' a punishment. " He winks, and you click your tongue at him. Ayato quickly slides another finger into your hole before you can come up with something to throw back at him. 

Ayato scissors his fingers, opening you up for him. You feel close, that all too familiar high. "C.. close" is the only thing you can muster without being too loud, you were just so sensitive. He smiles sinisterly at you, rudely ripping his finger from your aching core. "Not yet, I want you to cum with me inside you." He bashfully explains. To think Kamisato Ayato is blushing, you still honestly can't tell if this is a fever dream or not.

While in your own thoughts Ayato shed the rest of clothing and you finally get to see his cock. It's definitely not going to fit... He's going to split you in half. You move to get off the bed to 'return the favor' but Ayato stops you. "Next time... I need you right now." Pushing you back down on the bed he grabs some oil stashed under his bed and lubes up his dick. Pumping it a few times for good measure. The anticipation is gnawing at you, as he runs his length in-between your folds. 

You open your mouth to tell him to hurry up, but his lips catch yours and he inserts himself into you. Ayato takes, what would have been an earth shattering groan, from your lips as he lets you adjust to his size. Pinning your arms above your head he peppers your face with kisses as your pain slowly morphs into pleasure. Eventually the pain stops and you relish in the feeling of being full, the glee of that gets old pretty fast and now all you want is Ayato to rail you into high heaven. 

You wiggle your hips as a gesture to show him you're ready and he smiles down at you. "Use your words... Ask me what you want." He's a fucking sadistic asshole. "Please?" You whine. "Please what? (Y/N), you always have something to say, why are you so shy now?" You hate him, tears of desperation fill your eyes. " Ayato please fuck me, I need you to fuck me. I can't-" You choke back a moan as Ayato slides all the way out of you and rams his dick back into you.  He buries his face into your neck. "Good girl." He praises before leaving yet another hickey you'll have to cover later. 

He sets a steady pace snapping his hips into yours. You can only imagine how fucked out you look right now. Ayato looks like an Archon himself above you, his furrowed brow and the sweat glistening on his forehead. To think you hated this man a few hours ago... Now look at you, completely at his mercy. The soft grunts he lets out next to your ear you wish to engrave in your memories forever. 

Ayato hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur and you can't suppress the whine that spills out this time. "Ther..Fuck...There!" Ayato hones into that spot, causing you to fall over the edge. He gently thrusts in and out of you helping you ride out your orgasm. With the combination of your soft whines and how tight your climax made you, he pulls out and comes all over your stomach. 

With no strength left Ayato collapses, gently, onto you. "Noooo" you whine weakling. " My stomach is a mess now you're messy too." "I'll call for a maid to bring me a towel." You smack him and he laughs, rolling off you. He pushes himself up off the bed and grabs a small towel from a drawer. Gently tending to your cum covered stomach before attending to himself. You curl up on his bed, as you watch him as he grabs your clothes along with his. "So next time huh?" You smirk. "Pardon?" He freezes for a moment. "I owe you one, so you know... This doesn't have to be a one time thing." He clears his throat. "I wouldn't be opposed to that, I suppose."

 You push yourself up to grab your clothes from him but immediately regret it as every muscle in your body refuses to cooperate with you. You fall back on the bed Ayato chuckles softly. "Rest for a bit before leaving... Leaving too hastily will definitely cause more suspicion than leaving now anyway... " He lays back down on the bed pulling your body into his. "I didn't take you for a cuddler My Lord." You joke, followed by a yawn. He laughs, stroking your back just as softly as he did when you were crying. "Rest for a bit. I promise I'll wake you up in a bit." You nod sleepily into his chest. "Just for a bit is fine." You mumble before drifting off to sleep in Ayato's arms.

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

OH MY GOD I FINISHED IT HAHAHAHA GET ABSOLUTELY FUCKED PAST ME. If you read all of this I both sincerely apologize and thank you for reading my self serving fic. I hope you enjoyed it even a tiny bit.

[stayteezdreams]

Lost In You: Part One

Plot: When attending your friends costume party, you keep getting complimented on your couples costume. But you can't help but be confused, after all, you came to the party alone.

-Part Two-

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Gn!Reader* *A/n: Obviously had to go with Star Wars costumes lmao, and even though the costumes are of a male and female character, I believe it doesn't matter the gender of the character, you can still dress up as them anways. So besides the reader dressing "as" Rey, everything else is Gender Neutral, so please dont let that effect how you enjoy the story. The readers costume is not mentioned in detail, only vaguely to give a rough idea :)

-Meet-Cute Series-

Warnings/Notes: Brief mentions of alcohol, drinking, and drunk people. Reader is referenced to have drank, but is not drunk. Reader is a bit of geek (helps them bond with Seonghwa).

Words: ~2.4k

Walking around the fairly crowded house, your eyes scanned over the mix of recognizable, impressive, unusual, and downright lazy costumes that people were wearing.

When you had been invited to your friend's birthday, being told it was a costume party, you were excited. You had been wanting an excuse to wear your costume for ages, having missed the opportunity the previous Halloween.

Waving to some people you knew, your eyes scanned the crowd for more of your friends.

Nearly bumping into someone, you said excuse me before you recognized them as an acquaintance.

"Oh hey!" you greeted cheerfully "Nice costume" you smiled down at their bright yellow kill-bill inspired jumpsuit.

"Thank you!" they grinned as they looked at yours "Oh! Love that you went with a couples costume!"

You furrowed your brow "Huh?"

Having not heard you they waved to someone nearby before smiling at you "Sorry, gotta go, I'll talk to you later yeah?"

"Oh yeah, bye" your voice was still laced with confusion as they walked away.

Couples costume? You hadn't matched with anyone, none of your friends were really into Star Wars, so they wouldn't have matched with you.

You shrugged it off, figuring they just mistook your costume for someone else as you walked through a small group of people, before spotting one of your best friends.

Grinning, you snuck up on her "Hey!"

Gasping, she turned around with a glare "Stop doing that"

You chuckled as you grabbed yourself a drink before looking around "A lot more people came than I thought would."

"Yeah, I guess adults really do love an excuse to dress up like kids again."

You smiled and nodded, agreeing with the thought. "I thought you were going to go with Harely Quinn?" You asked as you eyed her Batwoman costume.

"It was trash" she rolled her eyes "Tore as I was putting it on."

"That's what you get for ordering cheap"

She waved her hand dismissively "I know, I know"

"Where did you get this one?"

"Last minute favor from my cousin, luckily we're the same size, otherwise I would have shown up in that slinky red dress I have and called myself Marilyn Monroe"

"You have black hair, Betty Boop is more accurate"

Just as she opened her mouth to retaliate, a drunk girl stumbled up to the drinks table before the spotted your costume.

"Ooh, that's why he brushed me off" she pouted before her eyes rose to meet yours.

You rose your brow before you glanced at your friend who gave you a similar look of confusion.

The drunk girl took a step closer "You wore a couples costume, that's so cute, mm'jealous" she slurred with an even bigger pout before she spotted someone, squealed and ran towards them.

You let out an awkward chuckle as your friend looked at you "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, but that's the second time someone said I was wearing a couples costume with someone."

She looked you up and down, "Well, since you're dressed as Ren-"

"Rey"

"...Rey, then someone is dressed as that tall evil black haired guy right?"

"Kylo Ren, or Ben Solo" you stopped yourself from explaining as you recalled your friends lack of interest in the franchise before you began looking around the crowd of people "I haven't seen anyone in an outfit like that so far."

She hummed before she glanced around as well "I wonder if they're cute."

You scoffed but couldn't help but wonder the same thing. Shrugging it off again, you turned around, just missing the cloaked figure walk past and into the next room.

After a while, you parted ways with your friend. You made your way through the crowd again, having begun to grow tired of being bumped into, and having to strain your ears to hear anything anyone tried to say to you.

Your friend had clearly over-invited guests or overestimated how many people would show up, as the room grew hot and almost claustrophobic.

Spotting the doors leading to the backyard, which seemed surprisingly empty, you slid through a group of dancing people, desperately wanting to escape.

Feeling your costume catch on something, you had to tug yourself away, before accidentally running into someone just as you reached the doors.

"Oh sorry!" your voice almost mimicked the strangers, as you both apologized as your eyes met.

You smiled, "Excuse me" you added on.

"It's okay" he smiled sweetly, his voice soft.

Your eyes drifted down to catch his costume, and you felt yourself freeze as you noted the lightsaber hooked on his belt. His eyes grazed over you as well as he had the same exact reaction.

Your eyes quickly met again as your voices called out at the same time "You!"

You rose you brow in surprise and he chuckled "I've been hearing all night about someone I wore matching costumes with."

You smiled and let out a soft laugh "So have I!"

His smile widened a bit, and you realized just how attractive he was. He was intimidatingly attractive, actually, you told yourself as you suddenly felt a bit shy.

You cleared your throat a bit "Nice costume, it looks like really good quality"

He grinned down at his costume before he looked at you "Thank you. Your's too!"

You smiled, starting to feel a bit self-concious as his eyes seemed to have looked you over slowly.

Suddenly, he spoke up, his voice full of excitement "You're lightsaber! I have the same one at home!"

"You do?" you asked intrigued as he nodded with excitement "I collect a lot of Star Wars stuff" he confessed, and you saw a tinge of embarrassment cross his features.

'Cute' you thought as you grinned, "I collect a lot of stuff too! From Star Wars and other movies"

His face seemed to brighten a bit, as he wondered what else you might have in common.

As a loud song came on, you winced a bit as you looked towards the now cheering group of drunk people.

Seonghwa cringed as well, before he looked over at you and leaned closer. You turned and met his gaze, alarmed by his sudden closeness.

"Were you heading outside?"

You nodded, unable to find your voice as your eyes remained locked with his.

"Me too." Hearing a drunken scream you saw him wince as he motioned his head towards the door "Shall we?"

You let out a soft chuckle and nodded. You watched him opened the doors, stepping aside so you could go out. You muttered a thanks as you made your exit, your heart hammering in your chest.

The cool night air washed over you and seemed to sober any ounce of drunkenness you might have held before.

There were only a few people scattered around the back yard. A few in the pool, and some playing a nearby fooseball game.

You looked back at the house and shook your head softly, "I'd hate to have to clean up after this."

The man laughed and agreed, as he stopped beside you. Looking back over at him, your heart jumped a bit as he was already looking at you.

He seemed to realize this too before he adjusted himself "I'm Seonghwa by the way."

You smiled at him "I'm Y/n."

His smile widened as you introduced yourself. Seonghwa's heart was beating fast, as his face felt hot, he hadn't drank much at all, so he knew it must just be you affecting him this way.

His eyes glanced over at a nearby couch surrounding a firepit. Feeling a bit brave, and far too intrigued by you to just walk away, he met your eyes again.

"Want to go sit?"

You looked back at where his eyes lingered and you smiled before nodding softly. Following him over to the couch you took in a deep breath, calming yourself.

It hadn't taken long for you and Seonghwa to fall into deep conversation. You had a lot in common and found subject after subject to rant about to each other. From movies, to music, to friends and dreams, you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice the next morning with how much you seemed to be talking

So lost in each other's conversation, you hadn't noticed when the music died down, or how the back yard had emptied, leaving you two alone. Inside the house, nearly 70% of the people had gone home.

Nor had you noticed how much closer to two of you had become, literally.

When you sat down, you had sat on the seperate chair beside the couch, feeling too shy to sit beside each other. But now, you were both leaning forward, sitting beside each other on the couch now, faces merely a foot apart as you raved about a recent move you had both seen.

Seonghwa's arm was draped across the back of the couch, behind your shoulder, something he hadn't even noticed because it felt so natural already. When his knees brushed yours as you sat facing each other, you barely noticed.

"Y/n!"

Your voice cut out mid-sentence as you heard a familiar voice call out. Looking over, you see her walking across the yard, red solo cup in hand.

Her eyes moved to Seonghwa and you saw the look on her face that screamed 'Holy shit, he's gorgeous.'

Seonghwa however, did not see this, as his eyes became glued to you again, after only having glanced towards your friend when she first came out.

"Oh, hey!" you greeted.

She leaned on the back of the couch before Seonghwa finally looked over at her. They introduced themselves to each other before your friend looked him up and down.

"Oooh, you're the one that people kept thinking matched with Y/n."

Seonghwa chuckled and nodded his head "Yes, that's me."

She met your eyes, and a knowing look passed over her face, that you promptly ignored.

"I was surprised to see you out here though, you never stay at parties this long."

"What do you mean, what time is it?"

She rose her brow "One in the morning"

Your eyes widened as you looked over at Seonghwa, who had a similar look on his face. He took out his phone and you saw the time flash across his screen. 1:14am.

"I got here at nine" you said out loud to no one in particular.

She nodded, "And you've been out here...chatting" she glanced at Seonghwa "for about three hours."

You and Seonghwa locked eyes and he smiled somewhat shyly as he looked down at his lap.

"Oops." You chuckled as you looked back at your friend who wiggled her eyebrows.

"You said you were only staying until eleven, since you have work tomorrow"

"Oh God, I have work tomorrow" you put your hand on your face as fatigue washed over you, surely only because you now knew what time it was.

Seonghwa smiled as he watched you, thinking of how cute you were. Though, he also had to work tomorrow, and showing up to early morning dance practice after a late night was not his ideal.

You met his eyes, "I should go."

Seonghwa nodded his head "I should too, I also have work tomorrow." he chuckled.

You smiled at him as mutual shyness seemed to wash over both of you. Your friend looked between the two of you and smiled before standing up straight.

She tapped your shoulder, "Come find me after you say goodbye we can get a ride together."

You nodded at her as you looked back at Seonghwa. Both of you began to rise as you let out a soft groan.

"How did I not realize it had gotten so late?" you chuckled softly.

Seonghwa smiled, "We were busy."

He hadn't felt as though time had passed at all when he was with you. He got so lost in talking with you, so lost in you, that he didn't realize there was anything going on around him at all.

The way he was staring fondly as you made your breath hitch. You smiled at him as you felt your ears burn a little hotter.

"Yeah. It's been a while since I've met someone I could talk to about all of that stuff."

He grinned, "Me too."

Seonghwa, realizing you were about to say goodbye, felt panic rise in his chest. He didn't want to say goodbye, at least not forever.

"Uh- can I- do you think I could get your number?"

Your heart leapt as he asked, and you resisted the urge to respond with as much excitement as you felt.

You nodded, "Yeah"

"Great. And maybe...we could go see that movie next week?" he asked, referencing the movie you shared excitement about earlier.

You nodded a bit more fervently this time, "That would be fun"

He nodded in agreement as he pulled out his phone. When you exchanged numbers you began heading inside, noticing immediately how the party had ceased since you were last inside.

Music was no longer playing. Empty cups and plates were scattered around, two people were passed out on the couch as the disco ball spun slowly on the ceiling.

You winced, "Yikes"

Seonghwa laughed before you looked back over at him "I should go find my friend"

He nodded, "I'll text you tomorrow?"

You nodded with a bright smile and Seonghwa almost felt like swooning at the sight. As he began to walk away, he gave you another glance as he waved.

You waved goodbye before you spotted you friend watching you with a grin from across the room.

When Seonghwa disappeared out the front door, you made your way to your friend who rose her hand.

"If you tell me you didn't get his number, I swear to God-"

"I got his number" you cut her off.

"Yes!" She cheered dramatically "I cannot believe how gorgeous he is."

"Right!?" You said with a restrained excitement.

"Are you going to see him again?"

You nodded, "He asked me to see a movie next week."

She clapped her hands as she led you to the door "You have to tell me all about him on the ride."

You nodded as you thought back on your night, and Seonghwa. You had never clicked with someone so fast before, it almost felt too good to be true. Almost.

xx End xx

-Part Two-

Ateez General Taglist: @soso59love-blog

Series Taglist: @bubblesreplies, @halesandy, @why-am-i-sad, @acciocriativity

[ravenwitch45]

Can we get General Relationship Headcanons with Loona please? Thanks for your time! Also I may have requested this or something similar a while back, I really don't remember. If that's the case, I'm sorry!

Oh sure! Sorry for taking so long to get to this, I was sick. I haven't done much of Loona, but happy to do her, sorry if I'm not that good tho. And I don't think you did btw, only ever done her one and it was a collective request with a theme, so I think your good, it would be fine anyway. Anway on with the show!

General relationship hcs with Loona

She's very protective, not possessive mind you just protective. Even if that includes her growling at anyone who threatens to wake up when your napping and stuff.

She often asks your opinion on outfits and stuff, also gifting you stuff that she thinks you'll like, or stuff that reminds her of you, you eventually doing it to the other way around.

Her constantly calling you during work, even multitasking her receptionist duties pretty well most of the time, also calling you over to hang out if you can,

She's not openly affectionate very often, and she can be a bit harsher then she means too, but she apoligizes when she messes up like that.

You often try to talk her into being nicer to others, especially Blitz since it his her father after all, plus you want to make a good impression.

Aside From Blitz and Octavia, you are the only one allowed to touch her hair, ears, and tail most of the time, and she often melts at it even when she asks for it, or expects you to.

If your shorter then her (Which let's be honest you probably are with how tall Hell Hounds are) She'll love to pick you up and just carry you around, refusing to note or elaborate on it.

She get's really flustered when you note how soft her fur is, you teasing her about the blush, which only flusters her more, the whole thing generally ending in a tickle fight and stuff. XP

If anyone messes with you or insults you, she will punch them in the face if they keep doing it, and will throw down if she needs to, you honestly being both flustered and terrified at the sight.

She'll sometimes console in you about serious problems that are bothering her, explaining why she lashes out so much, and eventually breaking down, almost begging you to not hate her. You give her all the understanding and support she needs though. You love her afterall.

Okay there you go! Again not very confident or used to writing Loona but hope I did it well enough. It was fun. Enjoy!

[shearlin]

Word count: 11084 (...oops)

Chapter 9: Legend

First || << Previous || Bonus - Epilogue

*runs in, tripping and falling with notes spilling out of my hands*

I'm here! It's here! I'm done, I did it!!!

Hi! It me again! :D

This chapter was rough. It was so hard to write for no reason. Actually there were many reasons, but it would be too long to write them all here, lol.

I anticipated that this chapter would be long. I planned for it. It was supposed to be long... not 11k long though, holy shit.

Anway, enjoy! :D

Nervous tension hung in the air as they were setting up the camp, desperate to do something with their hands and help around where they could, since Hyrule shooed them all away from unconscious Legend, who was laid down on the ground after they managed to coax some of the green potion in him before he passed out. Setting up some bedding to transfer him on became priority and they all jumped to it, as the traveller was finally able to properly examine his state.

Magical exhaustion. Nothing they haven’t seen or dealt with before. Goddesses know that Hyrule himself used to pass out at least once every week, before they finally convinced him to take it easy with after-battle healing, especially if he had casted any spells beforehand.

But Legend seemed to be unproportionally affected when compared to their past experiences with the traveller. He was pale and shivering, despite how burned up he felt to the touch. There was blood flowing from his nose that made their healer panic and made Twilight practically fly over the ground with the veteran curled to his chest, so they could get as far from the collapsing dungeon as possible and treat his condition fast .

Legend was always so vigilant with his own reserves. They never saw him drain himself like that.

Logically, they knew he would be fine with some rest. Hyrule was much more composed now. Concerned, yes, but nowhere near the panic from before. Still, their worry remained.

They managed to finish setting up the camp, transfer Legend to a more comfortable position and change out of their armour before Hyrule finally rose up from his spot and moved closer to the fire.

“He'll be okay, but he probably won’t wake up until morning and even then the fatigue will persist for a couple of days at least. He got really low. Dangerously low. But he should be fine for now.”

A feeling of relief swept through the clearing.

Warriors picked up the care after the veteran then, while Hyrule brewed some of his herbal mixes to help with Legend’s fever, Wild ready with his slate to store it hot and fresh for when it will be needed.

While the sense of worry never really left them, the rest of the afternoon passed with no further surprises.

It wasn’t until evening meal that someone brought attention to their resting companion again.

“As much as the circumstances of this are not ideal, the fact that Vet is not able to hear this conversation, gives us a unique opportunity.” Four glanced around to make sure everyone was paying attention. When satisfied, he put down his spoon and preemptively raised his hand. “Everyone who got a personal gift from Legend, tailored to their needs, abilities or experiences, please raise your hand.”

Looks of confusion and concern brightened into smiles as all eight of them ended up with their hands raised.

“I knew it! Fess up, old men, what did you get?” Shouted Wind pointing his finger in Time’s direction, getting only a cryptic smile in return.

While they were trying to coax the answer from Time, Sky lowered his hand to put it behind his head, looking uncertain. “Not sure if my gift counts to be honest. It's not really a thing …”

“What did he give you then?”

“Oh, you know…” a smug grin crept on his face as he nonchalantly pulled out his harp to strum a few notes, dragging the moment out. “A heart-to-heart in the middle of the night and a song he clearly has emotional attachment to.”

...

“Oh, come on!”

“Not fair!”

“You're right, it doesn’t count, disqualified!”

Read the rest on Ao3!