#but I think rn I could squeeze in some time to draw again

[sometimes-stufful]

Hey guys. It's been um *checks watch* like 5 or 6 years since I've used this blog. How's everybody doing? Sorry for the unannounced hiatus all that time ago.

I don't know if this blog will become active again. However there is a good chance that it might! I'm starting to create a plot for the blog's characters (because I still love them dearly), so hopefully I can create that and get this show up and running again. I've also been updating everyone's refs. So even if I don't come back to posting here officially, I think I'm going to at least upload those. I also have some new characters in the works that I may post refs for if I don't go thru with returning/making this blog more plot-centric.

I really do want to return to sometimes-stufful. However I'm an adult now (I'm literally about to turn 25 in 10 days, holy shit), and the past few years have been rough as hell on my mental health. I've lost a lot, and am just starting to heal from everything that's gone down. And I work full time, and have a datemate now, so finding the chance to draw is difficult. But this blog helped me on my art journey before. And I'd love to use it as an excuse to draw more, which is the main thing that pulling me back into the pokemon ask community. Another thing that's been pulling me back is the strong af urge to create content for my characters. Because I still love them so very much. I think about them so often that I want to put them in Situations and share it all with you. Although first I wanna get better at drawing humans lol (its relevant I swear). But I could get back into the swing of drawing some 'mons if I really set myself out to.

Let's see how it all goes. I'll keep you all updated. For those of you who have stuck around waiting so long, thank you. I hope to join you in this community again soon.

In the meantime, here's where you can find me and my artwork:

Main blog Toyhouse Artfight

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the piggyback

“It’s always been you,” Steve whispers, lips pressed above your brow. “The six kids. The family I’ve always wanted. Traveling the countryside. My dream, it’s always had you in it.” You laugh, breathless and in love. “I know, honey.” Sickly sweet warmth cascades through you. Your lips find Steve’s, you kiss the smile off his face. He lets you. “I’ve always known it was going to be the two of us.”

Summary: operation save hawkins is a go. youre eagle one, steve is currently doing that, eddie is youd be lying if you said you havent thought about it, nancy is it happened once in a dream, robin is if you had to pick a girl, and dustin is eagle two. what could possibly go wrong ? spoiler alert: everything. literally everything goes wrong. might as well break a few promises while youre at it. for the plot. but at least its over, right? .... right?

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, weapons, blood, death and gore, injuries, lowkey suicidal thoughts

Words: 8.5k (we broke tradition where the last chapter is the longest but tbh this is probs for the best)

Before you swing in: oh my god this is the end. i am. very very emotional rn. this story is my baby and i dont know what im going to do now that its done. i cant even write an in between chapter because we still dont have season 5 content :((( im gonna miss writing this story, and i will absolutely go crazy waiting for season 5 so i can write again. these next few months will be ROUGH but !!!! thank you guys so so so much for reading. all your comments/reblogs/kudos/likes have meant the world to me. im truly the luckiest girl ever :') for now, and for the final time... enjoy !

–

It’s pitch black outside. All around you is darkness. The sun is long gone, its golden warmth no longer present, retreating into the treeline as if afraid of what the night will bring. 

You’re afraid, too.

Everyone stands around Nancy. The group is quiet as you await whatever she has to say. When she turns to face you, her voice is leveled, calm, but her hands shake. 

She’s afraid, too.

“Okay,” Nancy exhales deeply. “I wanna run through it one more time.” She looks at Robin, prompting her to recite everything back. “Phase one?”

“We meet Erica at the playground.” Robin responds. “She’ll signal Max and Lucas when we’re ready.”

“Phase two.”

You step forward. “Max and I will bait Vecna. When he goes after one of us, he’ll go into his trance. If he chooses Max, we’ll go onto phase three together.”

“And…” Nancy swallows, looking away. “And if he chooses you?”

It’s Steve who steps forward this time. He stands tall, brave, but his voice shakes. “Then I’ll stay with her, walkman ready, while you and Robin go on your own.”

You grab his hand, squeezing it. He squeezes back. 

“Speaking of phase three.” Dustin clears his throat, weary eyes never leaving you. “Me and Eddie wil draw the bats away.”

“Carefully,” you look pointedly at your brother. “Right?”

He rolls his eyes at you while Nancy continues speaking. “Okay, phase four.”

“We head into Vecna’s newly bat-free lair and…” Robin holds up a molotov cocktail. The liquid sloshes around. The scent of gasoline still stings your nose from when you helped her pour it into the bottles earlier. “Flambe.” 

“Nobody moves onto the next phase until we’ve all copied. Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what.” Nancy reiterates, looking around the RV. Her eyes linger on you, cautious, almost doubtful. She trusts you. She knows she trusts you. But she also knows your heart and the lengths you’ll go to save others. 

Nancy has always admired your selflessness, but she’s also always seen it as your greatest strength and weakness. A coin, two sides. Now, tonight, she has to hope that you’ll follow the plan. Even if it means leaving Max behind if she’s the one Vecna chooses.

Your eyes harden when you realize what Nancy is thinking. Without saying anything, you nod at her. The jut of your chin tells her that you’ll be fine. That she needs to trust you. 

Eddie’s trailer is only a few yards away, but the walk to it feels like decades. Steve guides and Nancy is close behind him. You stay back, walking beside Dustin. Your shoulders brush. His presence grounds you, reassures you that you will make it through the night. 

Dustin, sensing your fear, reaches for your hand. He extends his warmth to you, silently promising you that he will always be here. There isn’t anything left to say.

Steve opens Eddie’s door, turning the lights on and tossing his backpack to the ground. He eyes the rope that connects the trailer to the Upside Down, getting ready for the part of the plan that you honestly really hate.

“Be careful, please.” You urge him, uncomfortable that he has to be the first one to return to the hell that is the Upside Down. It makes sense, he’s the only one able to climb the rope up, but still. You’ve had shit luck these last few days.

“I’m always careful, angel.” Steve winks at you, rolling his sleeves up. “Here goes nothing.”

He climbs up quickly, years of being an athlete being put to use. Everyone watches anxiously. However, when Steve crosses through the gate and lands with a cheesy flip, you and Robin share a disgusted look. 

“What, does he want us to applaud?” She scoffs.

You shake your head. “Sometimes I think he has an imaginary audience in his head.”

“Do you think they ever boo him?” “Not like we do.”

Nancy covers her mouth, muffling her laugh, and Robin snorts. You smile at the two of them, momentarily forgetting what’s to come.

“Alright,” Steve shouts up, tossing down Eddie’s old mattress. “Let’s go.”

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you place them on the rope and prepare for the inevitable torture that this will be. You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding again. 

“A little help?” You ask the others, motioning towards your injured leg and shoulder. “Sorta out of commission.”

Eddie grips your waist while Robin and Nancy gently hike your legs up. Together the three of them are able to carry you almost all the way up. Breathing through your nose, you grit your teeth and climb the rest of the way, wincing every few seconds. The pain is unbearable.

You really hope you don’t sound as pathetic as you look.

When you land on the mattress, small, black dots litter your vision. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Steve is already bending down, helping you up with ease. “And ruin Munson’s tidy home?”

Woozy from pain, you bat Steve away and wait for the others to join. Nancy comes next, then Robin, then Eddie and Dustin. Weapons get tossed down. Bodies land on the mattress with finalizing thuds. 

Outside, it’s just as cold as you remember it. Eddie and Dustin stay in front of the trailer. This is as far as they’re going. They aren’t leaving.

Roughly you pull at your brother. His body lands against yours, but the kiss your press to his forehead is gentle. You haven’t done this since he was a kid. Dustin flings his arms around you, nearly knocking all the air from your lungs. He squeezes you tight, as terrified as you are, and you feel tears in your eyes.

“We’ll come home,” your whisper is hoarse, rough and desperate. You bury your face in his mess of curls and kiss his head again. “The house won’t be empty.”

Dustin sniffles, too weak to hide his tears. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Your throat burns. How can you possibly leave him? 

Vision blurry with tears, Eddie manages to catch your attention as you cling onto your brother. The teen nods, lifting his pinky in the air to wave it at you, reminding you of his promise to you. He’ll protect Dustin. He swore it.

Reluctantly, you pull away from Dustin and wipe your face. “Please don’t die. Who knows what Mews’ ghost would do to you?” Dustin laughs wetly, wiping his own face as well. The thought of your childhood cat haunting his grave is enough to lessen the sting of letting you go. 

“If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort.” Steve breaks the remorseful silence. He doesn’t want anyone getting hurt. He doesn’t want you losing anyone else. “Draw the attention of the bats, keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be a hero or anything.”

His tone is harsh, but you know Steve means well. You also don’t want Dustin and Eddie anywhere near danger. As long as they stick to the plan, they’ll be fine. They have the quickest escape route and the most amount of protection.

“What Steve is trying to say is that you two better climb back through the gate the moment anything bad happens.” You look at the two boys. They stare at you, grim faced. “I mean it, okay? Go through the gate, don’t try anything else.”

“We’re the decoys, we get it.” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. You and Steve can be the heroes.”

“Look at us,” Eddie nudges your brother’s shoulder. “We’re not heroes.”

Your stomach twists. You hate how Dustin views his and Eddie’s position. They aren’t just decoys, they’re heroes in your eyes. They’re facing an army of bats all on their own, but you don’t dare say this out loud, afraid to encourage them. 

“Just…” your mouth is dry. “Just be safe, alright?”

“We will.” Eddie swallows. Then he pauses, his gaze darkens slightly. Looking back at you, he breathes out, “And make him pay.”

You and Steve look at each other. So much of Eddie’s life has been ruined by Vecna. Even if you all make it out of here alive, killing Vecna, there’s no guarantee that Hawkins will accept him back into the town. You understand the anger that resides within Eddie. The desire to kill the very thing that has destroyed everything he loves. 

You bite your lip. You’ve never made a promise you haven’t been able to keep. But this time you’re facing something bigger than anything you could’ve ever imagined. All this time you’ve tried convincing yourself that you’ll win. That everything will work out.

But you remember last summer. 

The mall. The fire and the deaths. Hopper. Billy. The power Vecna seems to hold, his claws that have sunk into you and Max. His threat to Nancy. The danger that Hawkins is in, up above where your mother sleeps peacefully. Unaware of what you’re sacrificing for her.

This is more than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. But a promise built on an unsteady foundation is all you can give Eddie. 

“Well will,” you echo his earlier promise.

Eddie smiles at you. The one you’ve grown to like, even find charming. Slanted and mischievous. The glint in his eyes never dimmed, even after everything. Through it all, he remained kind.

This is how you’ll always remember him.

– 

The further you walk away from Eddie and Dustin, the harder you have to force yourself to keep going. Your body is heavy, the weight slowing you down, pleading with you to go back. None of this feels right.

Steve’s hand on the small of your back is the only thing keeping your heart from collapsing. Robin’s smile helps, too. 

“You’d think this place gets less creepy the second time around.” She says, stepping over a root. “But I’m still pretty damn creeped out.”

“It isn’t the most pleasant place.” You agree. 

Robin steps over another root, looking back at you as she does so. “At least I’m here to protect you, Y/N. Pretty brave, don’t you think?” “Hey,” Steve warns. “Watch it.”

You knock your shoulder against his and smile apologetically at Robin. “Like always, I think you’re the bravest.”

She smiles proudly, throwing her fist in the air in excitement. However, after stepping over a root for what feels like the tenth time, her heart starts to pound. Looking around, all the trees suddenly look the same. Have you been here before?

“Not to alarm anyone, but I swear we’ve seen this tree before.”

“That’s impossible.” Nancy dimisses.

You agree. “We’re in the woods. All we’re going to see are trees.”

Robin tries to calm herself down, but ultimately fails. There are so many components to the plan, so many ways it can go wrong. “I mean, that would suck, right? Veca destroys the world because we got lost in the woods.”

“We aren’t lost–” You try to reason with her, but Robin is already running away in a panic. You scream at her, terrified of losing her. “Robin!”

“I’ll be back!”

You start to stumble after her. “Why does everyone want to separate?” You huff out, nearly tripping. “There’s safety in numbers! Come back!”

Nancy, seeing your fear for your friend and horrible coordination skills, steps in front of you. “I’ll go after her. You stay here with Steve.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing into the mass of branches alongside Robin. 

“They’ll be fine,” Steve reassures you, grabbing your hand. “They’re tough, even if Robin may lose her mind sometimes when she’s distressed.”

“I think we’re all slowly losing our minds.” You laugh, bitter.

Steve tightens his hand around yours. The two of you walk in silence for a while. The thunder above you serves as a reminder of where you are. The darkness is a threat. But you’re here, together. That’s all that Steve cares about in the end.

“Did you really mean what you said? Back at the cemetery?” He asks, clearing his throat in unease. The question has been on his mind ever since he heard your pleas for Vecna to take you instead of Max. 

He thinks of how adamant you’ve been to protect her. How you’re only here with him right now because Max wouldn’t let you blindly walk towards your death. 

The question strikes deep guilt within you, yet an exhaustion follows. You’re ashamed of how desperately you pleaded to die. Steve and Dustin had to hear you beg for your death. Lucas, too. 

You’re ashamed. Yet you wouldn’t take it back.

“I did.” You finally say. “I wanted him to take me.”

Steve already knew you’d say this. He’d been expecting anger to follow, to be furious with you for sacrificing yourself knowing he’d be left to pick up the pieces. 

But seeing the way you set your jaw and stare ahead, seeing the resolve that masks your face, the acceptance of your decisions, Steve can’t bring himself to be angry. Not at you. 

This is who you are.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Steve promises you again. He will always promise this to you. Over and over again, he will die saying these words to you. “I-I can’t lose you. I refuse to lose you.”

Your eyes remain downcast. 

“I know that this is how you love,” he grabs your jacket, begging you to look at him. “I know that I can’t let you lose the ones you love. Dustin, Max, Robin, Lucas, or El or Mike or Nancy. Hell, even Jonathan. I won’t let you lose them, but I won’t lose you, either.”

He understands, then. The selflessness within you and its selfish ways. Yet he doesn’t shy away or hiss at its venom. Steve opens his hands and allows the selfishness to stay there, warming it with his skin. 

You kiss him. Surprising both him and you, yet you melt together. Steve circles his arms around your waist, pulls you flush against him, and in the cynicism that surrounds you, there is still love. 

“Thank you,” you breathe against his lips. He’s wonderful. He loves you wholly, without any faults. Your kindness and its destructive ways; he accepts it all. “Thank you for understanding.”

And this, you believe, is the most selfless act a person can do. Steve’s understanding of why you need to do this, to sacrifice your life for Max’s, even if it means he risks losing you. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” Steve kisses you again, softer this time. Slower. 

You pull back, confused. “Why?” He pulls you in again. “I mean, I don’t know if you know this, but I was a pretty huge asshole back then.” You laugh softly, and Steve knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. “You saw this good in me that I didn’t know existed. Right off the bat you saw through me, expecting more from me than anyone else ever did. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you. ”

“Steve…”

“And I’m sorry for thinking you didn’t see a future with me.” He continues, unable to stop now. This is everything he’s wanted to tell you ever since you allowed him into your life. “I know it’s stupid now, apologizing for our fight a week ago after the hell we’ve been through since then, but…”

He can’t believe he almost let something as small as a misalignment of where you’ll be a year from now jeopardize what you have. There is a string that attaches Steve to you, it brought you to him and tied your heart to his. 

“I meant what I said, Y/N.” Steve’s forehead presses against yours. “I’d wait forever if it means I can have forever with you.”

His eyes shine down at you, brown and warm. The honey you fell in love with when he pretended not to know your name, all to get you to laugh. 

“When your head went under the water, that night at Lover’s Lake, I thought you were dead.” Your voice shakes, remembering the fear that choked you. “For those thirty seconds, I thought you were dead, and it almost killed me.”

It was then that you realized how truly you can’t lose Steve. You’ve always known this, but to have his soul ripped from yours so suddenly, so permanently, there are no words to express the agony that poisoned you. 

Losing him would be the one thing you’d never recover from.  

“I don’t ever want to live through those thirty seconds again,” you’re crying. Steve is, too. He wipes a tear that falls, strokes your cheek, and you can’t bear the thought of a world without his touch. “I want forever with you, too. We’ll figure it out, but I’m not losing you. You have to be in my life, in whatever capacity. Whether you’re in a small, cramped apartment with me in New York or in Hawkins, waiting for me to come home.”

Your breath hitches. To think that a childish argument almost separated him from you. 

“As long as we come home to one another, it doesn’t matter.” 

Steve is quiet after you’ve said all this, and for a moment you’re scared you’ve said too much. Revealed too much of yourself, convinced him he’s gotten it all wrong, but then he cradles your face. His hands are soft, tender, the weight of them familiar against your skin. 

He kisses your forehead, and you exhale the last of your uncertainty. All that is left within your lungs is love. 

“It’s always been you,” Steve whispers, lips pressed above your brow. “The six kids. The family I’ve always wanted. Traveling the countryside. My dream, it’s always had you in it.”

You laugh, breathless and in love. “I know, honey.” Sickly sweet warmth cascades through you. Your lips find Steve’s, you kiss the smile off his face. He lets you. “I’ve always known it was going to be the two of us.”

Steve smiles, wide and bashful, and you know that this is where you’re meant to be, too.

“Hey, guys!” Robin breaks through the treeline, running back with Nancy right behind her. “Awesome news!”

“We aren’t lost.” Nancy cuts to the chase. “We think the Creel house is up ahead.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” You step out of Steve’s arms, though your hand remains intertwined with his. “Let’s go face imminent doom.”

Nancy huffs out a laugh and Robin winces, though Steve squeezes your hand and is the first one to start walking. Together, the five of you descend deeper into the woods.

Unsurprisingly, the Creel house is even more terrifying in the Upside Down. Bats surround it, their screeches stinging your ears. Lightning flashes a deep, blood red and the thunder that follows causes your heart to drop.

You stand at the crest of the hill. There’s a light below you, its glow pure in the abandoned park where it resides. The same park that you told Erica to hide in as she waited for Max and Lucas to take their place. The light flashes.

It’s time for phase two.

– 

“Max is moving into phase two: distracting Vecna. Y/N, get ready.” Erica’s voice carries into the Upside Down.

Nancy, Robin, and Steve all turn to you. Grief and longing taint their faces. Your walkman hangs from Steve’s hand. He grips it tightly. Tension coats the air, nearly suffocating you; you can’t run anymore. 

No one says anything as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. It’s cold beneath you. Hard, unforgiving. You cross your legs, ignoring the deep ache of your wounds as you do so. You close your eyes. The storm is coming. 

“Take the bait, you son of a bitch.” You hear Nancy whisper. 

You or Max.

Take me, you silently beg. Take. Me. 

Silence settles over the group. Everyone waits with bated breath. No one knows who Vecna will choose. 

Steve stands nervously behind you, his hand on your walkman at all times. 

Just take me. Kill me instead of her. If you’ve watched me for so long, then just get it over with. Don’t make this easy, don’t be such a fucking coward.

The words echo in your head. Taunting Vecna, hoping their malice will be what saves Max. That he’ll choose you in the end, give you what you want. You’ll do whatever, say whatever you need, if it means Max will come home. 

Something pricks your skin. An uncomfortable, electric sensation coats your entire body. 

Vecna. 

For a moment you think he’s listened. You can feel his presence, the weight of him shadows in your mind. He’s here, he’s spared you mercy after prolonged cruelty. He’s chosen you and Max will survive. Her blue eyes will remain bright, her body alive.

Then it all comes crashing down.

“He chose Max. I repeat, he chose Max.” Erica says, voice cutting through the delusions you allowed yourself to get lost in.

Your ears are ringing. Somewhere in your body there is still oxygen that has not escaped you, but you cannot find it. He chose her. 

Robin radios Dustin and Eddie, you think she’s instructing them to move onto phase three, but her words are jumbled in your mind and you can’t hear anything besides the screaming in your head. 

He chose her.

“Y/N,” someone roughly grabs your shoulder. “Y/N, look at me.”

Nancy. She’s in front of you, kneeled down. She grabs your arms, her grip vicious. Her mouth moves. She’s saying something, the way her chest heaves makes you think she’s yelling.

Is she yelling at you?

“Y/N!” The ringing doesn’t subside, but you manage to look at Nancy. “We need to go!”

She’s right. You need to leave. There isn’t time to remember how to breathe. You know this. Somewhere in the distance there’s music. Guitar rifts through the wind, Eddie’s melody enrages the bats that swarm the Creel house. They’re gone in seconds, flying towards the sound, and you need to stick to the plan. 

Your head moves shakily, managing a small nod, and Nancy yanks you up with Steve’s help. She looks at Robin, and suddenly her and Steve grab your arms and force you to walk alongside Nancy. They aren’t aggressive as they do so, nor are they cruel. But you can’t afford to shut down. Not now.

Max won’t survive if you do. There’s no time to hesitate. No turning back.

You hope she finds the light.

Lightning flashes all around you, illuminating the Creel house as you stand before it. Steve opens the door first. The vines that cover the ground writhe at the disturbance. He shines his flashlight, his heart drops when he realizes just how infested the house is.

“Shit,” he breathes out. The floor is virtually impossible to walk across. “That’s not good.”

Then, because he has no other option, Steve starts jumping to any safe spot he can land on. He looks ridiculous as he does so, but for once you aren’t focused on that. Instead, you stare down at your injured leg and wince.

“Great,” your thigh is currently more blood than flesh. Jumping on it is quite literally the last thing you should be doing. “This is gonna hurt.”

“At least you have good balance?” Robin offers, though she doesn’t believe what she’s saying either. 

Nancy grabs your hand, then Robin’s. She looks at the two of you and smiles, trying her best to look reassuring. “It’s okay. You guys got this.”

The first jump hurts, setting the remaining nerves in your upper thigh on fire, but you can’t afford to scream or collapse. You have to remind yourself that the vines are interconnected. One wrong step, one miscalculated fall, and they’ll wrap viciously around you. 

It’s a slow, tedious process trying to get to the attic. The stairs are the hardest part. The vines twist with every step, slithering across the walls. Steve does his best to help you, offering you his hand for support, but you both hold your breath every time your foot slips. 

When you make it to the attic door, everyone readies their weapons. In one hand are your knives, in the other a molotov cocktail. Steve spins you around, digging into the backpack for an ax while Nancy grabs her gun. 

Your foot lifts, about to step forward, before the ground beneath you shakes violently. The entire house trembles, and Steve barely has enough time to catch everyone as all of you struggle not to fall. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You sneer, holding desperately onto Steve. This is all some sick, cruel joke. A poorly timed rupture in your rapture.

But then the house stills. Everything is quiet. You, Nancy, Steve, and Robin stare at one another, panting. Nobody moves. There’s a clarity in the air, a false sense of security. 

That’s when the first vine latches onto Robin. 

It folds around her ankle before tearing her away from you. She screams, so do you, and her body is thrown against the wall as more vines encase her limbs. They move fast, snake like, and everything unravels after that. 

“Steve! Y/N!” She screeches, terrified. “Nancy!” 

You’re at her side in a second, stabbing at the vines. Your knuckles are white as you grip your knives, your biceps strain. You aren’t letting them take Robin from you. “Hold on!”

Your teeth grit together in exertion, sawing as fast as you can. Steve and Nancy are on the other side, throwing their axes as hard furiously into the vines. But nothing works, they’re too thick, and you don’t realize that one of the vines has wrapped around your arm until it’s too late.

“Y/N!” Steve screams when your body gets lifted into the air. You try to fight it, to pry your arm away, but your legs give out and soon a second vine wraps around your other arm. Then a third, a fourth and a fifth. 

In seconds you’re pressed against the wall. 

“Steve!” Screams are ripped from your throat, you try to call out, to beg for your life, but the more you move, the tighter the vines constrict.

Steve calls after you, ramming into the wall as he tries to cut you loose. “I got you! I–”

The ax he’s holding gets yanked back by a vine. He’s launched into the air, body landing harshly next to yours several feet up the wall. He screams again, but his voice dies when a vine cuts off his breathing and chokes him.

Another vine coils around your throat and suddenly you can’t breathe. Your airway constricts. Sobbing, you try to reach out to Steve. You’re inches apart, his fingers are so close to yours that you can feel their warmth, but you can’t reach him

All you want to do is hold him. 

Nancy falls to the ground, the last victim. She gets thrown to the opposite wall, it all happens so fast that she doesn’t even have time to scream. 

Your vision blurs. You close your eyes.

This is how you’ll die. 

Far away from your home. No one will find your body down here. Dustin will come looking for you and he’ll face the same fate. He will die trying to find you. Vecna will destroy everything you’ve ever loved.

Your lungs burn, fighting for breath that they cannot get. Blood rushes to your head. You take your last breath. The sound of it echoes in your ears. 

Everything goes black. 

Your mother will be worried about you. 

I’m sorry.

– 

There’s a body beneath yours. 

It groans, gasping for air, but your vision is dark and you can’t see anything. Pain erupts in your wrist. You try to move it, but the sting makes you nauseous. 

There’s coughing all around you, but you’re too weak to suck the air back in. Everyone cowers for breath. The vines rescind, unwrapping themselves from your skin. There’s a body beneath you, and a gentle hand cups your cheek, you know it’s Steve.

“Breathe, angel.” His voice cracks, wounded. It hurts to speak, but he needs you to breathe. “Y/N, you have to breathe.”

Everything is numb. Your lungs are empty; you can’t remember how to fill them. Steve coaxes your lips open, blows air in your face, does whatever he can think of to get you to breathe, before finally, miraculously, you inhale sharply and begin coughing. 

“Are you alright?” Steve asks you softly, rubbing your back as you cough. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Your throat is raw. It takes everything within you to speak, but you want to. You need to. There’s only one thing you want to say. “We have to make him pay.”

The anger is back, and Steve’s jaw sets. Vecna has hurt you. He’s hurt everyone you love. He’s chosen Max for his final death and your fury threatens to devour the sanity you have left. You’re tired of his shitty mind games.

It’s like what you promised Eddie: you have to make Vecna pay for what he’s done to you all.

“I don’t believe in a higher power,” Robin rasps, breaking you from your thoughts. “Or divine intervention. But that was a miracle.”

Nancy cocks her gun, already walking towards the attic door. “Then we better not waste it.”

“Phase four.” Steve says, steadying himself against you. 

“Flambe.” Robin finishes. 

You flick your knives out. “Let’s finish this.”

– 

Vecna’s body hangs in the attic, thick, gruesome vines attach him to every crevice. He’s unmoving, eyes closed, and seeing his body up close makes you want to gag. He’s a terrible, vile creature. 

But Dustin had been right: Vecna is in the same trance-like state that El goes into when she uses her powers. 

Without being told to, Robin sets down her bag. All the molotov cocktails are inside. Everyone grabs one, silent. Almost as if you’re all too afraid to break the spell he’s under. You only get one shot at this. 

Steve has the lighter. You hold the first cocktail up, and he looks at you, eyes shining. He asks you if you’re ready, if this is what you really want, and you nod. At your signal, Steve throws the cocktail into the air.

The bottle shatters against Vecna’s body. The flames engulf him, the impact of the blast so powerful that it knocks you and everyone else back. There’s an awful scream as Vecna’s vines begin to snap from the sudden heat.

Your screams mix with his, throwing another cocktail with every ounce of strength you have left in you. You’re bruised and bloodied and exhausted, but you think of Max. You think of Billy and Hopper. Eddie and how his life will never be the same again. You think of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred. All the innocent lives that have been lost for a cause that you despise. 

This is for them. For Hawkins. For your home.

The last of the vines die withering away, and Vecna’s body falls to the ground. He stands, body on fire, and stalks towards you. His eyes are only on you. 

Robin lights the final cocktail and the force of it sends Vecna stumbling back. It’s enough to break through his chest, and he’s weak. Weaker than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Shoot him, Nancy!” You cry, ready for this all to end. 

And she does.

The first blast pierces Vecna’s skin. The second, third, and fourth diminish him to ruined pieces. With every shot, Nancy steps forward, drawing him out, and you’re right behind her. Vecna releases a deep, furious roar. The sound of it sinks into your bones, but you no longer fear him. 

He isn’t worth your fear. 

Nancy raises her gun again. She deals the final blow, sending Vecna through the old, rotted wood of the house into the dark night. He falls, screaming, before everything is quiet. 

The roar of the fire that surrounds you is the only sound. You all stand in the attic, numb. None of it feels real. All that’s left of Vecna is a hole in the house, his body far below, sprawled on the concrete outside. 

“Did we…?” You’re afraid to jinx it, to somehow bring him back. But this has to be it. There isn’t any other way for this to end.

Nancy doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns around, running back down the stairs. No one has to ask why she does this; you all know. There has to be a body. There must be tangible proof that you’ve won.

Everyone runs outside.

Vecna’s body is gone. 

The only indication that he’d been there is an outline of flames that molt the grass below it. But there is no body.

“No,” you run down the steps, kicking through the grass as you look around. You’re frantic, sprawling on the ground as if you’ll find him buried beneath the ash. “No, where is he?”

You killed him. He was on fire. Nancy put more than five bullets in him. He fell from the attic, a height that alone should’ve killed him. Where the fuck is he? You did everything right. Followed every step of the goddamn plan.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Something is wrong, you just don’t know what. Steve and the others join you. They’re quiet, fearing what you’re refusing to even consider. Four deaths. That had been all Vecna needed. But you killed him. “None of this makes sense, unless… Unless he–”

No. 

A bell chimes. 

The sound sends you to the ground. Your knees give out, collapsing under the weight of it all. “No!” Your scream is loud, guttural. Tearing from your chest as it tears out your vocal chords. There’s blood in your mouth and you want it to choke you. 

It’s Max. 

He got her. He killed her. 

All of a sudden there are arms around you. Someone carries you back up the stairs, back into the house that has taken everything from you. Steve holds you to his chest as he, Nancy, and Robin stare at the grandfather clock before them. 

It’s alive.

“Four chimes,” Nancy’s voice can barely be heard above your crying. “Max…”

The realization settles upon all of you. You’re in hysterics, no one can calm you down. You’re crying so hard that you can’t breathe, but you don’t want to breathe anymore. 

Grief pours from you in cruel, bitter waves. All you do is cry, barely even registering the earthquake that follows your devastating loss. 

Steve has to set down your crying figure in order to stabilize Robin and Nancy. You curl into yourself on the ground, making yourself as small as possible. There is too much. It’s all too much. Your head digs into the floor beneath you, cutting you, and your tears mix with the blood. 

Over and over again the clock chimes. Like laughter. His laughter. 

He won. 

Steve holds onto the stairs as the earthquake worsens. He has to crawl over to you; you’re rocking back and forth on the ground, your cries heard even above the cracking of the earth. His hand wraps around your weeping body and he won’t let you go. Steve tries to shield you from fallen debris, the world is falling apart, but you don’t move.

You don’t care anymore. 

It’s always your fault in the end. You lose everyone eventually; you get them killed. You can never save them. You will never be able to save them.

She’s gone. 

Max is gone. 

– 

The days pass. You’ll come to remember them in fragments. 

Returning to Eddie’s trailer and finding Dustin crying over his dead body. Prying him away, your tears mixing with your brother’s when you have to tell him that something has happened to Max.

Finding Hawkins in flames. Seeing the deep gashes in the town you grew up in. Stumbling to the Creel house, racing side by side with the ambulances for everyone within the once quiet town, and collapsing again when you find no one there. 

Going home. Your mother’s arms breaking you. 

Steve. How he never left your side throughout it all. Holding Dustin’s hand, unable to stop crying. 

Visiting Max in the hospital the day after. The stench of sterilizer and surgical tools. Seeing her lifeless body still alive. The countless other bodies in the building that died due to your failure. 

When the news broadcasters announce Hawkins to be cursed. The burden that you can’t tell them that they’re right. The guilt seeing your baby brother’s limp. Another scar he will carry with him forever. 

All the hurt in the town. The pain. 

The collapse of your home; they’re calling it an earthquake. 

It all comes to you in flashes. 

Hawkins high school gets converted into a donation center for everyone dishoused. Visiting it is your idea. You can’t bear the thought of spending any more time inside your home knowing there are hundreds of others who no longer have a place to call home. 

“Anything else?” You place your old comics into one of the boxes you’re donating. 

Dustin shakes his head. “That’s the last of it.”

He hasn’t left your side in days. He still keeps your walkman on him, though neither of you know if it’s important anymore. Dustin is afraid that you’ll never put the headphones on again, even if it could save your life. 

You tape the boxes up, carefully writing down their contents on one of the flaps. Your fingers are scabbed. Your wrist is stiff, locking up if you move it too suddenly. 

Books.

Bedding. 

Clothing.

Anything you can offer, you’d give it all to Hawkins if you could.

Steve picks you up. He helps you put the boxes in the back of his car, gentle with you as always. “You guys ready?”

You nod weakly, and Steve kisses your forehead, careful of the cuts that litter it. He helps you into the car. Turns on your favorite songs. Tries to distract you from the wreckage that encases Hawkins as he drives; you keep your head down. You can’t look at any of it. 

Nancy is waiting in her driveway with Robin, a pile of their own boxes at their feet. They greet you kindly, warmly, with an air of fear that you’ll break, and you’re too tired to pretend. 

“I found some more of your old stuff in the attic,” Mrs. Wheeler walks out of the garage, smiling despite the circumstances. “I think it’s lovely you’re doing this, Y/N.”

“We all just want to help,” you politely respond, staying near Steve’s side. 

Nancy picks up one of the stuffed animals in the box and pouts, seeing her old favorite toy. You’re about to tease her, try to laugh, when a pizza delivery van speeds down the block. 

“Someone order a pizza?” Mrs. Wheeler asks.

“Not that I recall.” You mumble, confused as your eyes follow the car. Every business in Hawkins is shut down right now. It doesn’t make sense for there to be a pizza delivery.

It parks in front of the Wheeler’s, and when you see who steps out, you drop the box you’re holding and run towards them. 

Will and El throw themselves around you, hugging you tightly. Dustin joins, and holding them again, having them here with you, makes everything okay for a moment. Your kids are okay, they’re safe. 

“Are you okay?” El asks you, pulling away slightly. Her eyebrows knit in concern when she notices the cuts on your face and how red your eyes are. “Did he get you?”

Somehow you aren’t surprised that she knows about Vecna. 

“I’m okay, sweetie.” Her hair is buzzed. Already you miss the long strands she once had. You don’t know what she’s been through this last week, but you hope, more than anything, that she hasn’t lost her kindness. “I-I’m okay.”

Your voice catches at the end, and immediately El understands that something else happened.

“We were worried about you,” Will doesn’t let you go. “When El told us what was happening, Jonathan almost lost his mind.”

Jonathan.

Hearing his name makes you remember everything. Instinctively your eyes find him. They always do. Jonathan has Nancy in his arms, but when he senses your eyes on him, he looks up at you. He will always be able to find you. Your heart stops, looking into his once familiar brown eyes.

Jonathan rushes towards you, as he always does, and his arms around you feel like home. 

“Bug,” he breathes against your neck, holding onto you tighter than he ever has before.

You melt when the nickname drips from Jonathan’s lips. It’s been so long since someone has called you that. It’s been even longer since you’ve held Jonathan like this. 

“God, what happened to you?” His eyes roam your body, catching on your bandaged shoulder and thigh. The cuts on your cheek. You try to ease his concern, grabbing his hands, but Jonathan starts to ramble. “We-we tried to get back to Hawkins as soon as we could. The second El told me you were in danger I–”

He inhales shakily, presses his face deeper into your neck. “All I could do to stay sane was think of your voice. Of our last phone call.”

You bury your face into Jonathan’s messy hair. You’re crying, but for what, you don’t know. His scent is bittersweet. His arms are reminiscent of what was once. You’ve missed him, but nothing will ever be the same again.

“I need to see her.” El’s raised voice causes you to let go of Jonathan. She’s standing in front of Dustin, arms crossed, and you know he’s told her the truth. “Take me to Max.”

“What’s wrong with Max?” Mike slings an arm over your shoulders, putting all his body weight against you in greeting. “Miss me, Henderson?”

You move his arm down, forcing him into a hug. You want to remember these next few seconds. The remnants of his childhood before it comes crashing down on him. “I did, Wheeler.”

Mike hugs you back, but when he sees the distress on El’s face, he lets you go and walks towards her. “What? What’s going on?”

Dustin is the one who breaks the news. Shamefully, you know it should’ve been you, but you haven’t been able to say Max’s name in days. There’s too much guilt, remorse, resentment that it hadn’t been you. 

It’s a mess of tears and panic when Dustin tells them. Will covers his mouth, holding back tears, while El storms inside the pizza delivery van as Mike demands that Jonathan take him and everyone else to see Max. They don’t believe any of it. El told them that she saved Max. 

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Jonathan holds his keys up. Everyone else, including Nancy, are already inside. A boy your age, you think his name is Argyle, waves at you from the passenger seat. 

So much has changed. Unable to form the right words, you shake your head at Jonathan. Yet even after months apart, he understands your unspoken words. You can’t see Max again. Not yet. It’s too soon, too much for you to bear.

Seeing her limp body once was enough. 

“We’ll be back,” Jonathan hugs you one last time, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he lets you go. “I promise.”

Steve steps forward then, wrapping an arm around your waist as he stands next to you. The two teens lock eyes, Steve gives Jonathan a cool, steely look. He remembers what you’ve told him. He remembers Jonathan’s words to you before everything collapsed. 

Sensing his anger, you squeeze Steve’s arm. Not here, you beg him. Not now.

Exhaling slowly, Steve offers you his hand. You take it, allowing him to walk you back to his car as the others leave.

– 

The donation center is packed. There are so many people inside, sitting on makeshift cots and pinning missing posters of their loved ones to a bulletin board. Nurses tend to the injured. Mothers cradle their children. The sight makes you ache. All these people, displaced by what they believe to be an earthquake.

You set the boxes down at the main dropoff table, and though the kind employee praises you for how organized the boxes are, you can’t help feeling that you should be doing more. 

In the hundreds of injured and grieving people you’ve seen, you’ve only noticed a handful of workers. 

“Is there any way we can help?” You ask the woman, looking around with a frown.

“Truly anything.” Robin says. “We just… we want to help.”

The woman seems surprised, and you wonder how rare it is for kindness to still be in a town that has known nothing but turmoil these last few years. 

You and Steve get placed sorting clothing while Robin is assigned to the food station. Dustin passes out cups of water for everyone. It isn’t much, but the work is meaningful and it eases the tension in your chest. 

“So…” Steve folds a t-shirt. “Can I ask about Jonathan yet?”

Picking up tattered jeans, you place them in the trash pile. “Might as well.”

“How do we feel about his sudden arrival? I mean, the giant pizza statue on the van was a little dramatic for me.”

He’s trying to keep the conversation light, which you appreciate him for, but you also know that Steve is doing this because he’s worried about you. And, you know, he’s unnerved seeing Jonathan. There’s still a lot left unsaid between you. 

“It’s… a lot.” You admit, struggling to find the right words to convey how you feel. “I’m relieved he’s okay, and I really am happy to see him again, but I… I understand, you know. If you’re upset.”

Steve scrunches his face. “I’m not upset, just… I don’t know. Annoyed with the guy.”

“So you’re upset.”

“Okay, no–”

“Is that Vickie with Robin?” You unintentionally cut Steve off, too surprised by the fact that mere feet away from you is Robin and Vickie making sandwiches together. And they’re laughing. “Are they talking together?”

Steve whips his head around, disbelieving, but lets out a low whistle when he sees Robin making easy conversation with Vickie. “Well I’ll be damned. Who knew our girl had it in her?”

The Jonathan talk lays forgotten as you and Steve admire your friend. You share a secret smile, remembering your own first awkward, bantering conversations together. There is so much pain in this town, and yet you watch as love still blossoms within it.

Across the room, you see Dustin talking to an older man. They’re deep in discussion and you notice your brother’s shaking shoulders. He’s crying. The older man is, too. You narrow your eyes, unsure if you should approach, but when Dustin hands the man Eddie’s old guitar pick, you realize who it is. 

“I’ll be back.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, excusing yourself. 

He tries to ask where you’re going, but you’re already gone. Your brother needs you right now.

Walking over, you stand to the side and allow Dustin and Eddie’s uncle some privacy. While there are so many things you want to say to the man, like how kind his nephew had been, how brilliant his mind was and how you’ll never forget the smile that never left his face, this is for Dustin and Dustin only. 

Eddie was his dearest friend. There is no greater loss than that.

Whatever Mr. Munson tells Dustin will be good for him; it will be the closure you can’t give him yourself. 

An arm wraps around you. You lean into the touch, knowing who it is without even having to look. You rest your head on Steve’s shoulder, exhausted, but content with the warmth he offers you. The two of you keep an eye on Dustin, ready to catch him in case he falls. 

Eventually Mr. Munson leaves, and you take his place next to Dustin. The second you sit down, the boy cries into your shoulder. Tears soak your shirt and your brother’s frail body shakes. “I-I had to tell him that Eddie died a hero.”

“I know,” your head falls against his.

“They’ll never know what he did for this town.” Sobs wrack Dustin’s body. “It isn’t-it isn’t fair.”

You rub his back, brush his hair out of his face. “None of it is fair, Dust.”

He cries even harder and you try to shield him from the world with your body. You try to block out the grief, the bitterness that follows death. How empty it can leave you. An emptiness that can swallow a person whole. 

You won’t let it happen to Dustin. 

“We’re gonna get through this together, alright? You and me, just like it’s always been. I promise–” Your words catch in your throat, tears forming in your own eyes. There’s so much you want to promise your brother, to swear that will come true, but you’re just as hurt and lost as he is. 

“I promise,” you make the words come out. “That everything will be okay. We’ll-we’ll be together, heal and do whatever we can to make everything okay. I-I’ll never leave you, you hear me? I won’t leave you again.”

Though Dustin still cries, his breathing slows. 

“Together. We’ll face this together.” As you talk, you notice a crowd of people swarming by the windows. They’re looking at something, staring and gasping. Your voice grows weak, anxious that something bad is about to happen. “It’ll… it’ll all work out.”

Dustin notices the crowd, too. He looks to you for answers, but you’re silent. You don’t know what’s happening. There’s a murmur in the crowd, hushed, urgent. It sets your skin on edge. Even more people get up now, some are even running outside, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to run. 

Suddenly the room darkens, as if a giant cloud has covered the sky. Your stomach twists, and you get up, following after the crowd. Bodies shove each other, people blindly walk through the haze of whispers and uncertainty. 

When you step outside, all you see is ash.

The ash falls like snowflakes, beautiful and pure. There’s a softness to it, something delicate in the ruin it leaves. Dustin knocks against you, staring up into the sky with the same dread that you feel. The crowd is murmuring with glee, whispering excitedly about what they believe to be snow; but they’re wrong.

You’ve always won in the end. 

You’ve come to believe this to be a fact. You once told Steve that you believed you used up all your luck. Saving Will, closing the gate over and over again. The penance was the deaths from this summer for the greedy way you abused luck.

Steve had reminded you that there was still good leftover in the bad. That there will always be softness in the destruction, a reason for hope. That you will always find a way out, that luck and love were two sides of the same coin.

You’ve always won in the end. 

Yet, lost in the swarm of people, you watch as the sky begins to fall and Hawkins descends into the Upside Down. 

You no longer believe it.

[END OF SEASON FOUR]

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Within Arm's Reach

Zayne x male!Reader

IT'S FINALLY HERE. Yeah not having wifi atm sucks so hopefully no one walks in on me writing this at school

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: fluff, smut, pwp, aftercare, anal sex, hand job, kissing, biting, nipple play, praise kink, swearing, first time topping, first time bottoming, references to proposing, banter, teasing, creampie, multiple orgasms

Word Count: 2,157

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AO3

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Zayne groans something beautiful, lodged in his throat as he strains to keep his head up to watch you slowly push your cock into him. His own dick twitches prettily against his stomach, leaking precum onto his pale skin.

Your head spins, eyes stuck staring at the sight of his body sucking you in, squeezing around you. It's hot and slick from lube, and you think you could cum right then and there. Zayne reaches out to hold your hip. His fingers press deliciously into your skin as he draws you closer, drawing you deeper into him.

"Good," he breathes. "Just like that." He sighs a shuddering breath when you've bottomed out. "Give me a moment."

You'd wait to the end of time for him, truly. And this sight - his hair disheveled from your make out session on the couch, his ears bright red, his lips parted and swollen, his chest rising and falling, his pupils blown wide - well, you could admire it beyond the end of time. You wonder if he feels this way when he fucks you. If he relishes in being able to look down and see you in such a mess, dribbling precum on yourself as you look back up at him, pleas falling from your lips like prayers, begging him to move. When he leans his head back to look at you, you think he just might.

"Go ahead," he says. You begin to pull out and he gasps, closing his eyes to center himself again. "Start slow."

You pull back until just the tip remains inside. It's your first time fucking him, but it's also his first time being fucked. You try to draw on that experience. Rub circles into his hip with your thumb to soothe him. His eyes crack open to look at you. You grin softly at him, and slowly push back in.

It's addicting, watching your put-together doctor fray at the edges. He's always had the habit of "losing himself" to your pleasure when you two are intimate, doing everything in his power to please you as much as possible, even getting off when he sees you enjoy yourself. He chases after it. He loves it. In those instances, he gets almost desperate. But no matter what, he is in control. He has his finger on the pulse.

Now that he's beneath you, even as he guides you along, you are the one in control. He could tell you to go faster and you could slow down. Tease you just like he does some nights, when you're being difficult and he quirks his eyebrow and smirks and tells you to be patient. You understand why he loves it so much.

You speed up gradually. Sweat glistens in a light sheen across both of your bodies. With each thrust, his dick bounces, drawing with it webs of sticky spend. Zayne's cheeks are flushed now, quiet sounds pulled more readily from him. You can't help the sounds that escape you either, slowly losing yourself to the feel of your partner's tight walls hugging your cock, engulfing you in ways you can't begin to emulate with your hand, but that you'll wish you could replicate when you're alone.

You lean down over him, supporting yourself with a hand beside his head, and he wastes no time pulling you close. One hand tangles in your hair, drawing your lips to his, mouths parting and coming together with wet sounds and hot breaths. He tastes faintly sweet. His other arm wraps around your shoulders, hugging you to his chest. Slick skin rubs against each other. When you grind your hips into his, you feel his cock brush against your stomach. He groans, breathless as he tilts his head the other way and kisses you again.

Between kisses, he speaks into your mouth. "Put your knee up on the bed," he tells you. You follow his instruction without contest. With the added leverage, you fuck into him easier, moaning as you find a new angle to rut into him. He draws you even closer with a broken sound. "Yes~ So obedient. Such a good boy."

Whether it's the angle or the praise, you're not sure. But something snaps. You cry out his name as your hips stutter, pressing hard up against him as though you can possibly reach any deeper. Your dick twitches and hot spurts of cum paint his insides white. The odd feeling, the heat of it, has Zayne's back arching, stomach, chest and cock pressing against your front as he gasps and sighs against the corner of your mouth. His knees squeeze your hips encouragingly, silently telling you to stay there until you've recovered. He presses light kisses against your jaw.

"You did so good," he praises beside your ear. You roll your hips and his breath hitches. "Take your time, my love. Just breathe."

You drop your face into his neck, bowing into him. "Fuck, Zayne, I-" You take a deep shuddering breath. He scratches soothingly at your scalp. He smells like mint and pine, like a cold winter, but his body is so warm, his hand on your back running along your spine to give you chills. You sigh shakily against him. "I-I'm still hard," you admit with a wet swallow. "Feels so good. You feel so good."

He cups your face to draw you from his neck, to kiss your lips lightly. "It's okay," he says softly. "Keep going. I've got you."

Your eyes are bleary as you pull back to see his face. "Are you sure?"

He nods, face flushed as he guides your hand from his hip to his still achingly hard dick, still twitching with the need to cum. He's so hot as you wrap your hand around him, weighty. You thoughtlessly lick your lips, imagining the taste and feel of him on your tongue. You dream for a moment of pulling out and just settling between his legs, taking him down your throat or licking his stomach clean. But he shifts his hips up against yours and the shock it sends through your system wakes you from the thought. Another time.

You're so sensitive when you pull out again. Your own cum acts as lubricant as you thrust back in. Some dribbles out, following the cleft of his ass to stain the towel he laid down prior. His chest moves in choppy breaths, your sweet doctor taken in once more by the euphoria of it all.

He guides your hand along his shaft. The dual feeling of your cock fucking into him as you jerk him off sends his head spinning. He tips his head back against the pillows, Adam's apple made prominent as he mindlessly tells you to take what you need from him.

Neck so open and exposed, you can't resist putting your mouth on it. Wet, open-mouth kisses trailing along his artery, lips sucking on the smooth skin to form light bruises, teeth lightly nipping over the jut of his collarbones. You settle back on your knee for support as you go further down. Tongue circling his pretty pink nipple, sucking it into the wet heat of your mouth. He tangles his fingers in your hair again with a moan of your name. Holds you to his chest to keep you there, devoting attention to his nipple as it hardens within your mouth. The salt of his sweat tastes so sweet when you have him like this under you.

His hand falls from yours as you take control over the rate you stroke him. You do short, quick pumps around the head of his cock, over the ridge. Your thumb presses against his leaking slit, spreading the slick precum around, staining your hand in it to lubricate your ministrations. Zayne grips onto the towel to ground himself, as though he could float away at any second from the high of his approaching orgasm. "'M close. So close. Hng- Don't stop. Fuck, don't stop."

You push your tired body to go faster. The slap of skin against skin fills the air. The wet pop as you tear your mouth from his nipple to lean back up to his neck, kissing messily along his jaw. The tension in your abdomen builds, muscles tensing as you prepare for the fall. It almost burns, so overstimulated from your first orgasm that it nearly hurts to chase after this one. But you don't dare shy away from it now, even as your breaths choke up and you're pressing down desperately into Zayne for support.

His hips buck up, fucking his dick in your hand just as hot ropes of his cum shoot out over your hand, onto his stomach, even sticking to your own. The vein pulses against your palm, cock twitching, as it forces out every last drop he can offer. Your name falls from his lips in breathless whispers, choked and drawn out and so fucking beautiful.

You don't stop stroking him. Don't slow your rapid pace. Not until your own cock pulses with its release. Hot cum fills him once more, coating your dick as you helplessly thrust into him, messy and off rhythm. When you finally feel the ache fade, you stop, buried to the hilt inside of him, hand releasing his flaccid cock to hold his hip with a sticky hand. It's hot on his sweaty skin.

He lets out a quiet sound as his body relaxes back into the bed. Satisfied and tired, he strokes a hand lazily through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp as you catch your breath. You can't help laying your weight on him, but he doesn't complain at all. Just turns his head to kiss your temple.

"You were perfect, my love," he whispers, voice shaking ever so slightly. He strokes odd patterns up your back, occasionally massaging into the muscles to coax out any remaining tension.

You hiss softly as you pull out. His breath hitches, but he otherwise seems unaffected, pressing another kiss against your head. You press a kiss to his neck in return. "You were, too," you hum. "Thank you for agreeing to try this."

You feel his lips curve into a slight grin against you. "Which do you prefer?"

"Hmm, right now?"

"Mm."

"... I didn't realize how addicting being... inside you would be."

He huffs a soft laugh. "I underestimated how good it would feel to have you inside me." His fingers grab hold of your chin, tilting your head up so he can kiss your lips. The kiss is reverent, delicate. Barely a brushing of lips. "We need to clean up."

You grin against his lips, eyes half-lidded and sleepy as you crack them open to look at him. "I guess that's my job tonight, huh?"

He grins in return. His thumb mindlessly strokes your jaw. "Shall I show you how to do that, too?"

You pinch his side playfully. His body jolts slightly as he shoots you a look. Your arms shake as you push yourself back up, standing on wobbly legs. You wipe your hand on the towel beside his leg. Your traitorous eyes look at the mess that's been made. You do your best not to drool, flushing with heat as you disappear off into the bathroom. "I've seen you do it enough times." You run the water on the shower, starting up the towel heater in the meantime before stepping back out to disappear down the hall. "It's your turn to watch now!" you call from the kitchen, fetching your beloved a glass of water.

Zayne stares down the hall after you, though you can't see him, nor he you. A content smile paints his lips, timid but insistent. The spray of the shower hits the tile wall. Glasses clinking in the kitchen barely sound over it. He's hot and sweaty and sticky, uncomfortable with the dripping mess leaking out of him and how sore he is. He sees your face, tired but smiling, as you come back to the bedroom with two glasses in hand, condensation gathering on the sides, and he thinks of the box in his office drawer where you can't accidentally stumble upon it before he's ready. He wishes now, when you help him sit up and sit on the edge beside him, drinking your waters together, that it had been hidden in his nightstand, an arm's reach away.

Because he is ready. He knows that now more than ever. He finds himself lost staring at you. You tilt your head at him. "Something wrong?" you ask.

He shakes his head and hides his embarrassment at being caught behind a sip of water. "No, nothing's wrong."

He can see the sliver of worry fall from your shoulders as you smile. You set your glass aside and stand up, bending down to kiss his cheek. "C'mon, sugar, the water's getting cold."

Yes, he is ready. Tomorrow. Maybe tonight. Soon. Soon.

---

Tag List:

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[x-aefx]

Hihi !! 🩵

I have a little request and I was hoping you could to it ! So I was thinking you could do a little blurb of F!Reader having like really bad cramps and Billie just comforting them that’s just pure fluff bc I’m having like horrible cramps rn and I need smth like that ☹️

This is so cute��� i hope you like it and i hope you get over your cramps soon🫶

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

SWEET - BILLIE X FEM!READER

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

You had your day planned. You were supposed to organize your closet, practice guitar and do some cleaning. it was supposed to be a productive day, yet you lay on your bed in pain.

Out of all the things you had planned for today, getting your period was not one of them. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the sharp pain from your cramps, the hot water bottle you clutched doing little to soothe you.

"fuck." You muttered in discomfort.

"y/n!" A voice called from downstairs. Billie closed the front door behind her as she invited herself into your home. She looked around not finding any sign of you. She frowned in confusion.

"up here." You tired to call out as loud as you could, but the pain you were feeling made it hard to do. You turned on your side to try find some relief.

Billie didn't hear your response, but she walked upstairs anyway, not thinking of any other place you could be, and she knew you were home since your car was here and the house was left unlocked.

She smiled excitedly as she walked to your bedroom, figuring you were cleaning or working and thats why you hadn't heard her. She was excited to see you. You two had made plans to hang out, which Billie always looked forward to. You were her favorite person.

Opening the bedroom door her smile faded slightly, her brows drawing together in concern as she seen you curled up in your bed, a hot water bottle clutched against your stomach. She knew immediately what was wrong, she had seen you many times like this, and you with her.

"y/n?" She called out your name again, this time sympatheticly, feeling the urge to take care and comfort you. She walked over to your bed.

You exhaled the air you had been holding, growing frustrated with the cramps you suffer from every month. You turned your head to face her, a pained expression on your face. Billie frowned down at you, she hated to see you in any kind of pain, it broke her heart seeing that expression on your face.

Billie put her phone and car keys on your bedside table, she shrugged off her jacket and shoes, and gently climbed into the bed beside you.

She wanted to do everything in her power to ease your pain.

She lay on her side, sitting up with her weight on her elbows as she leaned down to rest her face in the space between your shoulder and face. You leaned into her embrace, her touch welcoming and needed.

Billie wrapped an arm around your waist, the pads of her cold fingers tracing up and down your warm skin, leaving goosebumps after them. She tilted her face so that she was facing you. She smiled lovingly down at you, her lips placed small gentle kisses on your cheeks down to your jaw. Her fingers met the hem of your shirt and moved under it, dancing slowly up the skin of your stomach.

You smiled lazily up at her causing Billie to smile too.

"how's my sweet girl?" She mumbled. Her free hand moved up to comb her fingers through your hair, her fingers weaving gently through the strands.

You shook your head slowly. "Not good." You mumbled. Billie's smile softened. She leaned down and placed a small, sweet, kiss on your lips before moving down further in the bed. With her fingers she slowly pulled up your shirt slightly to expose the lower part of your stomach, where you had been clutching the hot water bottle.

You watched her curiously, but with the up most trust and love.

Billie began placing small, sincere kisses along your stomach, not neglecting a single place. She took her time, being gentle and making each kiss as loving as the last.

A small smile tugged at your lips, you sighed in content as your eyes threatened to close.

Billie smiled against your skin. Your shirt raised higher as she made her way up your stomach, leaving a soft and delicate trail of kisses with her.

Somehow you had manged to get distracted from your period cramps, feeling nothing but the love Billie was showering you with. You felt completely at peace in that moment.

Billie lifted her face to meet yours. She grinned up at you happily, making you chuckle at how adorable she looked. Billie leaned in to kiss you again, a soft and tender one, you both smiled against each other's lips.

"thank you." You whispered.

Billie softly shook her head. "You don't need to thank me, im here to take care of you, always."

You smiled back at her, thinking 'how did i get so lucky?'

Billie placed another tender kiss on your forehead.

As she lay back on the bed you climbed on top of her, resting your body flush against her front, as her arms wrapped securely around your body in a loving embrace, showing you she wasn't going anywhere.

You hid your face in the crook of her neck, relaxing as her fingers traced small circles onto your skin. You smiled when Billie began softly humming the tune of a song, the noise calming you.

You didn't know if Billie somehow soothed your pains, or if her love overpowered the pain you felt, all you knew was you felt happier and better in her arms.

"i love you." Billie whispered.

"i love you too." You whispered back, your smile audible in your voice.

Billie placed another tender kiss against your head, sighing in content as she smiled fondly down at her girl.

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ♡

[pttwice]

it's so hot in my country rn can i request cg!sahyo taking little!mina on a trip to go swimming

it's starting to get hot where i am too! try to stay cool and keep hydrated :)

beach day

|| little!mina, cg!sahyo ||

Only partially awake, Sana shuffled into Jihyo’s kitchen and sat down. She leaned back in the chair and let out a long yawn. When she heard a small giggle from across the table, she jumped. Sana sat up and watched as Mina set down her crayon and reached for her hand.

“Good morning, Minari. I didn’t know you were here.” Sana chuckled softly as she reached her own hand out, letting Mina hold it and squeeze it a few times before she went back to her coloring.

Sana watched Mina color for a few minutes before Jihyo emerged from her large walk-in closet. She walked into the kitchen and poured Sana a cup of coffee. She sat the mug down in front of Sana and took a seat beside Mina. “Jeongyeon decided last second that she was going on a little vacation with her sister, so she asked if Mina could come over for the weekend.”

Sana nodded in understanding and took a sip of her coffee. She didn’t mind taking care of Mina when she was regressed at all. It was easy enough. All she really needed was a coloring book, a little TV time, and plenty of cuddles.

“I was thinking that we could go to the beach today since it’s so hot out. It’d be a shame to waste a good day inside.” Jihyo spoke to Sana as she gave Mina a thumbs up for her drawing.

Even though she was an extrovert and one of the most energetic members of the group, Sana had become a bit of a homebody. Unless one of the members or one of her friends asked her to go out on her days off, she tended to stay in and catch up on sleep.

Sana nodded slowly and took another few sips of her coffee. She did want to take time to just relax and maybe play with Mina for a little while, but she guessed that the beach was a good place to do that as well. Maybe she’d even get a little bit of a tan like Jihyo.

“Would you like to go to the beach today, angel? You could go swimming and we can bring some sand toys if you’d like.” Jihyo ran her fingers through Mina’s hair, still messy from sleeping.

Mina looked up and held up her picture, drawing a laugh out of both her caregivers. It was a little messy, but it looked to be a picture of herself, Sana, and Jihyo under a big palm tree. Jihyo could make out who was who and the palm tree, but she wasn’t too sure what the big gray blob was beside her.

“I see you had the same idea. But what’s that beside me?” Jihyo asked as she pointed to the gray blob.

Mina giggled and looked at the blob. She set the drawing down and picked the gray crayon up again. Adding a few more details, she held her paper up. “Bbu Bbu!”

Jihyo’s eyes widened as she looked at the now more detailed blob. “Wow! You even drew Bbuyo. It looks just like him, sweet pea. You did such a good job.” She gave Mina a kiss on the cheek and took her drawing to hang up on the fridge. “How about you go to your bedroom with Sana, and she’ll help you get into your swimsuit?”

Mina excitedly nodded and hopped out of her seat. She tugged on Sana’s hand, too excited to wait for Sana to finish her coffee.

“Okay. I’m coming.” Sana took one last sip of her coffee and followed Mina into the guest room. She smiled at the disheveled state of her bed, Tim nestled in between the pillows. As Sana crouched down to pull Mina’s bathing suit out of her suitcase, she looked up to see Mina grab Tim off the bed.

Mina held Tim close to her chest and did her best to try and take her pajama shorts off. She managed to get one leg out before Sana scooted closer and helped her out of the other leg. Sana successfully got Mina’s swimsuit bottoms on before she pulled out her top. It was long enough to fit just above her bellybutton and cover her shoulders.

Sana tried to lift Mina’s shirt off so she could put her swimsuit top on, but Mina clung tight to Tim. “I’m sorry, sweet pea. We’re going to have to set Tim down for a few seconds so we can put your top on. I promise I’ll go as fast as I can.”

Mina hesitated; her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Sana. Once she sensed that Sana was telling the truth, she gently set Tim down on the floor beside her suitcase. “Okay. P’omise.”

Staying true to her word, Sana quickly slipped Mina’s pajama shirt off and her swimsuit top on. “There we go. Now you’re all ready to go swimming! Why don’t you go show Jihyo your swimsuit?”

Mina excitedly clapped her hands, forgetting about Tim as she ran into the living room to show off her swimsuit. She ran up to Jihyo who changed into her swimsuit, shorts, and a t-shirt. “Look! I’m a fwuit!”

Jihyo smiled and picked Mina up, spinning her around before she set her back down. “I love your swimsuit, angel. You make a cute little watermelon.” Mina giggled shyly and clung to Jihyo’s arm as they waited for Sana to get dressed.

//

“I know it’s icky, Minari, but we don’t want you to get burnt. If you get burnt, then it can be itchy and hurt.”

Sana let out a small sigh as Mina stood in front of her. She had her arms crossed and a big frown. Sunscreen was the last thing she wanted on her body. It was oily and it stung her eyes whenever she sweated.

“Would it help if Jihyo and I put some on first?” Sana asked, hopeful that Mina seeing them put it on would sway her a bit. Mina hesitated. Her frown slowly disappeared as she nodded and sat on the edge of her penguin beach towel.

Jihyo and Sana let out a sigh of relief and slowly passed the tube of sunscreen back and forth to each other. It only took a few minutes for them to completely cover themselves and by the time they were finished, Mina was ready to get her own sunscreen on as well.

“Make Mina eyes itchy.” Mina said with a pout as she stood in front of Jihyo who started to put the sunscreen on her arms.

“I’ll do my very best to try and make sure it doesn’t get in your eyes, angel. If it starts to get itchy, let me know and we’ll get your face washed off, okay?” Sana gave her a comforting smile and kissed the crown of her head before she squirted some sunscreen into her hand. Gently, she rubbed the sunscreen into Mina’s face, trying her best to avoid her eyes.

Once Jihyo was sure the little was covered, Mina ran down towards the edge of the water. She let out a small scream and giggled when the tide came up and splashed her feet. It was hot out, but the water was still a little chilly.

Jihyo and Sana took their time to walk down towards the water. As they stood beside Mina, Sana took her hand and encouraged her to walk out a little further. Mina clung onto Sana’s hand, letting out little screams each time the water splashed on her tummy.

“Cold, Satang! Cold!” Mina giggled and let go of Sana’s hand as she ran back to Jihyo. Jihyo tried to pick Mina up, but as soon as she bent down, the little was running back towards Sana.

For a while, Mina ran back and forth from Sana to Jihyo. She got a little further each time before Jihyo called her back in. Jihyo knew Mina swam well, but she was worried that when she was regressed that she wouldn’t be able to swim without a floaty.

Jihyo walked back up towards their little setup and pulled out a purple pail, a few shaped molds, and a yellow shovel from her beach bag. She sat them down in front of Mina’s towel and watched as the little excitedly started to dig into the sand.

Sana soon joined them, taking a million pictures on her phone and a few on a polaroid she had bought a few weeks ago. She loved seeing a care-free and completely relaxed Mina.

Mina took her time filling the pail with sand. Jihyo helped her pack it in and flip the pail over before they lifted it together. As they lifted it, a small portion of the sandcastle fell off, but Mina was more than happy with it. She smiled and calmly collected more sand to patch the side.

The rest of the morning was spent building sandcastles and other sea animals in the sand. They ate a peaceful lunch on their towels, only interrupted occasionally, by a happy scream from Mina whenever she’d run to the edge of the water and come back for a bite of her food.

After lunch, Mina played in the water a little while longer. Sana made sure to keep an eye on her from the shore as Jihyo stood out in the water with her, holding her up in the water if she got too deep.

“I swim,” Mina said as she held onto Jihyo’s hand. She excitedly splashed around, her feet just barely off the ocean floor as they swam together.

“You’re doing such a good job, angel.” Jihyo praised Mina and laughed each time she’d duck her head under the water.

“Wook! Pishy!” Mina gasped as a small school of fish swam by them. She let out an excited giggle and ducked her head under the water again before coming back up, realizing that she couldn’t see the fish with her eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see. There’s lots of fishies in the ocean, huh?” Jihyo chuckled and followed Mina as she walked closer to the shoreline. The little crouched down and gazed into the water, on the lookout for more fish.

“Wook! Dere’s a bwue one!” Mina excitedly clapped her hands and pointed at a long blue fish that swam just past Jihyo.

Mina stayed crouched in the water for a while. By the time she got up, the warmth of the sun was starting to make her sleepy. She held Jihyo’s hand and walked back to their towels and chairs. Instead of sitting on her own towel, she curled up in Sana’s lap. Even though her towel was a few inches away from where Sana was, it was much too far.

Jihyo chuckled softly and grabbed Mina’s towel. She shook it out before gently wrapping it around the little. The sun was starting to go down and the temperature had dropped a little. It was still quite warm out, but the breeze from the ocean provided a little bit of a chill in the air.

Mina curled up as small as she could into Sana’s side. She tucked her head into Sana’s neck and yawned as she closed her eyes. “Satang sing p’ease?” Mina mumbled, her sleepy eyes barely opening as she glanced up at Sana.

Already half asleep with the sweetest, sleepiest smile on her face, Sana couldn’t say no to Mina. She silently nodded and wrapped her arms around the little, gently kissing her forehead before she started to sing.

Sana’s voice was so quiet and soothing and the perfect breeze from the ocean was just right. It wasn’t long before Mina’s breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Jihyo and Sana knew that Mina’s nap wouldn’t last long, and she’d be up and running in the water again, but they didn’t mind. A beach day is exactly what they needed.

[xylatox]

TSFAWC [06] || kth and cyj

After going through hell and back last year reading this, we are back with TSFAWC. I kid you not, this was probably my first read series on tumblr despite being on the app for so long and I absolutely love it. I still need to draw Cricket because I genuinely love her character so much even if she was only mentioned in the beginning (I literally have a pinterest board for her)

Anyways!! Unto my thoughts, I still can't believe TSFAWC is here again😭 I honestly think I'm going to reread it because God, it really has a chokehold on me.

Beomgyu😭😭😭 I missed his silly kelpie character in this Oh my god.I missed this dynamic so much😭😭

“It means that I worry for you,” he says, flopping back down beside you. “And that you should be safe. I don’t wish to live in this terrible estate with just the Lord, some servants, and I.” — :(((((((

His gaze falls on you, old in its weight. “And so, if it is?” he says. His voice is gentle, or perhaps comforting, in a way you weren’t sure he could be. “Would you make yourself sick debating it? Hanging onto every word to discern whether it's a real truth or a faerie truth?” — god, I missed every aspect of this world

“I thought something happened,” he says. Curt. Short. “You shouldn’t be out alone like this. It leaves you vulnerable.” His eyes stay trained on your face—distinctly, purposefully. It’s almost humorous how stone-faced he is. Almost, if your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears. — giggling like an idiot, I missed you so deadly Taehyun

He lets his head drop into a laugh. A laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever held on to the sound of someone’s laugh the way you do the soft, mellow sound.  — my fucking heart oh my god.

KAI😭 my little baby (I can't remember what I called him back then but it was something silly before he was introduced) I feel like a mother.

A letter. He produces a letter. You aren’t stupid enough to pretend that it might be from Beomgyu or anybody else. Belly dropping, you know exactly who’s written to you. — god. God. GOD. girl. This letter popping up brings back all the memories the MC had with him (my love Yeonjun I'm so sorry but I am a Taehyun freak rn) and I miss him a Lil bit ngl 💔

she's so much stronger than me to burn the letter

“No, it doesn’t.” You thumb the scar he got with you before, and then so very slowly, you press a soft kiss to just beside it . Your breath puffs out from your nose, warmth over the frigidity of him. — im going to go mad, Ashlynn. Mad.

“I know it is.” His face goes hard, a sharpness you’re familiar with. “And you cozied right up with his messenger. It’s ironic.”— The way he doesn't even say Yeonjuns name directly I'm gonna through up

Cared, as if he found something to care for. Your mouth dries up, belly doing flips. Because, of course he didn’t care about leaving behind his life to follow you wherever you went, when he has been cold for so long, and he felt something. — Lord help me

“He’s an old friend,” he answers. “And I know what it is to love a human. That’s all.”— my heart is breaking

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he shifts. “My real name.”— I fucking gasped, I feel like a mad woman

“Always him,” Taehyun growls, eyes smoldering. “No matter what I do. What will it take for you to stop fucking wanting him?” — I missed Taehyun being like this Oh holy fuck😭

He licks the seam of your mouth, his hands in your hair and then running up your torso and then squeezing the plush fat of your hips, as if he can’t decide where he wants to feel you, so he devours it all at once. As if he could make up for all the times he wanted so badly to do this, but could not. — UES ASHYLYNN YESSSSS

“Are you sure?” he says, the words tumbling out past his lips with trembling urgency. “Because I’m… Don’t play with me. Please, don’t fucking play with me. You want this?” — I'm going to throw up and pass the fuck out

So he can replace it all with himself. Your blood boils under your skin. — YES YES YESSSSSSSS

“I have been tortured,” he says, wetting his lips and scoffing as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “I have been tortured, driven up the fucking walls, by the sound you make when you cum. Since you let him have it in my home, since you let me hear it.” His eyes flash, and then he’s bent you straight in half. — I want to scream so loud

THE TYUN NICKNAME NOOOOOO GOD I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST SOLDIER

I'm gonna fucking cry with that letter I'm not okay o feel sick, absolutely sick, I went through the most amazing torture while we were w yeonjun but my god Taehyun is finally there I am so sorry Jjun no😭

A strategist through and through. It was Taehyun who will have Yeonjun’s head. — im not going to be able to fucking handle this Ashlynn Oh my god why do you do this to me

I'm so glad TSFAWC is back def one of my favorite series ever, it drives me so insane everytime I think about it.

We are so back guys ♡

TO: SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE ... ❨ O6 ❩ ⸺ 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴

𝓘N WHICH 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉. "𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. "say what i am."

faerie!𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 ╱ faerie!𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 · ƒ ! r 15k 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ⸺ smut, angst, unprotected sex, mentions of past trauma, kissing scars, yandere themes, oral f rec, overstimulation, cumming on belly, power play, jealousy and possessiveness ｡ ( playlist )

← rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd! ♡(ᗒᗣᗕ )՞ →

🪶 ⦂ look what's finally out. i almost shed a tear formatting this post. i've missed this series so much. hehe. did i shed a few real tears over this? yes. i know that this part is shorter, and i did cut some stuff out, but i think that it packs the biggest punch. things HAPPEN. there is no meandering here.

“Tomorrow?” Beomgyu says. He’s laid with his shoulder pressed to yours, watching the ceiling the same lazy way you do.

Tomorrow. Leave it to Taehyun to spring stuff on you. Just when this place started feeling like home, here you go packing. You suppose you could stay here with Beomgyu and stick your head in the sand, but what good would that do you? You can’t pretend that the world will stop moving around you if you do. It won’t. Ancient powers will still be toeing at war, and Taehyun will still be general, and you will still be too near to the center of it all than you ought to be. They are indelible truths, so whatever. You’ll go to that war camp with him, if it’s for the best. 

For tonight, though, you’ll enjoy Beomgyu’s presence. You almost want to ask him to come with you, but to the kelpie, being dragged into some meandering court war is worse than being left here by himself. Truly, he’ll probably be here thriving by his lonesome. Kelpie is as kelpie does.

You echo the word with a sigh. “Tomorrow.”

He turns to you, mischief sparkling in his mud eyes. Even without words, you know exactly what that look’s supposed to be saying.

“Don’t even start,” you say, elbowing him. “I was just beginning to think that I might miss you. Of course, you had to remind me of your nagging…” There’s no real bite. You’re never really annoyed, and Beomgyu doesn’t really care to run away. 

Well, he might. You like to think that he’d at least look back twice were he to get the chance to make his grand escape for the treeline. But this conversation is more of a strange, unconventional comfort for the both of you than it is a genuine consideration.

“You’ll miss the nagging most.” He turns props himself up on an elbow. “Will you talk with the grass stalks when you’re there? The Lord isn’t much for words, and you love to hear your own.”

Gasping, you glare. “Are you calling me annoying? That’s not fair coming from you. You love the sound of your own voice more than any faerie I’ve known, and you love the sound of your own voices.”

Of course, Beomgyu takes pride in that. “I do tell a story good. You should love my voice, too.”

He’s awful, but you laugh. He’s right enough. There was a time, when you first brought him here from his forest, that you’d talked to him for so long into the night that your voice went raw. You had never talked so much in your life.

“I guess the grass will have to do.” You interlace your fingers on your belly.

“They are quite humorous.”

“Whatever, liar,” you snort.

“Oh, but they are.” Sitting up, Beomgyu’s snarled hair hangs as he looks down, impish amusement bursting at the seams of his face. “Such a human thing; to think that because you don’t know it, then it can’t be how it is. Everything has something to say, you just don’t hear it.”

Blinking, you look at him. “I guess that’s true,” you say. You’d always known that there was a lot about the world that you didn’t know, but you are reminded of that more than ever these days. Even just in little things like this. “I wonder how it’ll be.”

Beomgyu looks a little bit less playful. “You’ll need to watch yourself. Humans don’t go to faerie war camps. They won’t be glad to have you there. The Lord thinks he’s protecting you, but our world is feeling the unbalance. Not even his mind, as sharp as he thinks it is, can predict what’s unpredictable.”

How terribly ominous is that. “Do you know something I don’t?” you ask, releasing a short breath for a laugh and fiddling with the trim of your pillow that you’d made pretty with gold swirls.

Beomgyu shoots you one of his eerie, knowing grins that leaves you unsure whether you should laugh with him or worry about what it means. 

“What?” you say, giving him a contemptuous frown instead. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re reminded of when he’d told you similar things when he’d helped with your geas. You will never be whole again, but you ought to savor what you’ve got left. Perhaps he does it just to mess with you, but you’ll never be sure. That’s the thing about a faerie: the moment you think you’ve understood who they are and what they’ll do, they’re different the next. Capricious and ever-changing, at least to your human mind.

You’d thought you’d known a faerie once. That’s a lesson better taught than learnt.

Or maybe what you have here, in those strange eyes and that fickle smile, is just friendship, and the things he says are just because of what he is. Maybe you’re trying to look at Beomgyu through the same cracked lens that Yeonjun had left you with. You’d been a trusting girl once. Breathing out a sigh, you take a long look at his face. Shouldn’t you let yourself be her again? Isn’t it unfair to assume the worst of him because of what another did?

“It means that I worry for you,” he says, flopping back down beside you. “And that you should be safe. I don’t wish to live in this terrible estate with just the Lord, some servants, and I.”

You blink up at the ceiling, your throat tight for whatever reason. “A lie,” you say. It comes out more as a rueful complaint than the shoddy joke you intended for it to be. It’s hard when you’re not sure whether or not you believe it to be the truth. He’s the one that said he could lie if he wanted to.

His gaze falls on you, old in its weight. “And so, if it is?” he says. His voice is gentle, or perhaps comforting, in a way you weren’t sure he could be. “Would you make yourself sick debating it? Hanging onto every word to discern whether it's a real truth or a faerie truth?”

Instead of speaking when you don’t know what to say, you turn to him and let his words wrap around your bones. 

You would, just as you always have. Out of all the people that’s not fair to, it might just be the most unfair to yourself. You’ll never know for certain, so why torture yourself trying to?

Well, if only it were that easy. If only you could know what someone intends before you give them a tender spot in your chest to leave achingly empty. To leave it bruised and a shriveled, wary husk of its former self. 

“And,” he says, full of humor, “if not you, then who would I bother asking to release me from the bridle’s hold? Not the Lord. He wouldn’t tolerate it. He’d keep me here for an eternity, was it convenient for his own plans.”

No, you don’t think he would. Taehyun hadn’t gotten Beomgyu to serve his menial needs; he hadn’t gotten him for himself. You wonder if you’ve been looking at Taehyun through that same, warped lens you’ve been seeing the rest of the world with. Did you let it bend his image into something untrue?

“Of course,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I was wrong. You are predictable. Maybe I’m with Taehyun on that.”

❆

Cutting through snow up to your calves and with a pack on your back and Taehyun’s silhouette leading the way, it’s impossible to not remember the last time you did this. So much has changed since then, and then so much has stayed unchanged.

It’s been months since you two came north. A lifetime ago. And so much has happened between the both of you, quicksand up to your ears, but you can’t say you know him that much better than you did then. You might even know less now. It’d been cut and clean—he was a dark, impolite man that saw the world down his nose.

Going west, it takes less time for frost and white forest floor to give way to green than it had when you went north. Foliage. Seeing a forest untouched by the cold’s bitter death has you breathing in the air, savoring the way it doesn’t sting your lungs. It’s fresh in a different way.

Once your feet begin to ache, you make a small camp for the night. Camp, meaning a fire made of damp wood off the forest floor that’s reluctant to burn and tree stumps to lean your back against. Good that it’s warmer here.

Taehyun gets some poor small forest animal to roast, and you brought some apples to eat on the way. The gamey tang and the sweetness mesh into something that’s not too awful, considering your circumstances. You sit down by the meek fire, holding your palms out at it. You’re not so far away from home yet that the night doesn’t at least make your bones ache with the chill.

“Did you not know until recently that they’d want you to go to the camp?” you say, trying to warm the air between you in the same way you toast your numb fingers.

With one arm propped up on a bent knee and his apple dangling untouched in his hand, he shakes his head. The fire dances an array of oranges and yellows in his eyes. “I’m their general. It doesn’t matter why I did it; if I don’t play the part, it’ll have been for nothing. If I stayed in my estate, they’d have no use for me.”

So, it was his idea. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Taehyun purses his lips, watching the fire. Thinking about whether or not to say. “I thought it’d upset you,” he says finally after a long moment.

Unsure of what to say to that, you take a pause. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected that—that he thought it would be fine either way, that he hadn’t thought to, that it wasn’t up to him, you might’ve assumed. He was nervous to tell you that he, and by extension you, were going to have to go? He didn’t say it outright. Taehyun never would. But the thought is sweet, in a way. Your lips turn up at the corners, a soft and unexpected smile.

“I guess that’s true,” you say. You would’ve gone either way, though. The fire sizzles and pops as it eats up the wet logs, the little stack falling. “Don’t you worry about the fact that they might find out that you’re not so enthusiastic about the war? To be general?”

“As long as I do their bidding, I don’t think they’ll care what I believe in.” He shrugs. “I play general, they get to have war. If  they aren’t coming to our doorstep because we were spies, that’s all I care about.”

You suppose that’s right. Neither of you are looking out to play hero, anyway. Just to survive. The both of you seem to always be doing that together. 

“What are they asking of you?” you say. If they’re moving out into camps, then something must be happening. That was inevitable. 

“The camp is near the King’s castle. Just a little north of it, on a big grass plane. They’re not looking to be sneaky anymore,” he says. “So, it could be anything.”

Nodding, you cozy back up against the tree. You hope it’s not anything too terrible. For his sake.

❆

Taehyun’s not awake by the time you stir, his arms crossed over his chest and his head back on the bark. A few early birds sing back and forth to each other from the boughs of the trees above you. It’s a sound as fresh and clear as the blue dawn sky and the dew that sparkles from the grass.

How sweet it all would be, did the bottom of your spine not pinch from the night spent upright on your ass, and were there not the unignorable muckiness that clings to your skin from a day spent walking. Dusting your palms of dirt where you’d planted them to the ground, you decide to make a trip to the gentle stream that had lulled you to sleep with its rushing last night. A bath in that water would definitely wake you up quick.

You follow the sound of it until it appears from between two trees. It just looks cold, rushing over the mud riverbank a crystal clear color. You kick off your boots and test it, gasping as it bites. You can’t help but smile at yourself—it’s exactly what you need to come out fresh enough to suffer another day of dragging your feet over the ground.

Getting in is like pins and needles. You peel your clothes off and step in up to your hips, your hisses meshing with the sounds of the morning air. Damn it, it’s cold. Ice cold, as it runs down your spine from where you cup it and wet your hair. And when you’ve gone numb to it, you feel the water rushing in between your fingers, scrubbing it over your skin, letting the crystalline coolness make you clean.

Hopefully, they’ll have some way for you to bathe there. The folk don’t need to bathe for hygiene the way you do, and they’d have no reason to bring a luxury like a tub along in that case. It’s a war camp. You wonder in what other ways it’ll be inhospitable for a human.

Maybe you’ll have to find a river, there, too—

Taehyun’s voice startles you. “You didn’t think to at least tell me you were going?” There isn’t any real bite, more like annoyance. 

You freeze, heart kicking into action so hard that you feel it. You thought he’d be asleep for at least until you got back. Covering your chest with your arms, you spin.

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning. Why’s this feel so… Well you don’t even know how to put it into words. He’s had his hands all over you, his lips on you, but him catching you like this just is different. Frankly—you’re flustered, aware of each inch of bare skin, water still rolling down your body and your hair laying in wet tendrils,  that he has to pretend he doesn’t see. For your sake.

Or maybe it doesn’t phase him. Your tummy flips. Would that be for the better or worse?

“I thought something happened,” he says. Curt. Short. “You shouldn’t be out alone like this. It leaves you vulnerable.” His eyes stay trained on your face—distinctly, purposefully. It’s almost humorous how stone-faced he is. Almost, if your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears.

“I wanted to clean up.” You shiver, maybe at the soft breeze on your wet skin or maybe at the redness of his ears. “I’ll tell you. Next time.” Please, go so I can put some clothes on, you want to add.

“Yeah. That would be useful.” He thumbs the hilt of his sword. “Finish up and meet me back at camp. We should get going.” He unceremoniously turns on his heel and disappears back into the trees, his spine straight.

Water falls from you as you step onto land, wringing your hair out and tugging your clothes on to follow him. You’re just glad he didn’t insist on closing his eyes and staying as you dress to keep watch. 

Add that to the list of reasons the air becomes suffocating the moment you’re in proximity to him. It seems that the things you leave unsaid and unaddressed, like those words he’d said to you when he kissed you for the second time, the ones that make your spine tingle the more you pretend they didn’t happen, are sometimes heavier than what you do say.

❆

The camp is a scattering of a few tents raised on a grassy stretch, just as Taehyun had said. Their flags willow in the wind, pointed swords strewn out beside straw-stuffed dummies. 

You’re sharing a tent with Taehyun. It’s simple: two beds on opposing sides, trunks for your belongings, and nearly nothing else. You appreciate your bed at home a little more when you plop down into the cushions, but you’re for blankets and a pillow instead of tree trunks and bark.

Taehyun slips in some time later. It’s dark out behind him as he does, the stars hanging above. 

“It’s certainly functional in here,” you say, running your fingers through nasty tangles in your hair like a comb. “A war camp.”

“We’ve both slept in worse.”

“Yeah, we have,” you snort, but don’t miss the distance in his voice. After a few beats, just watching him lean his sword against the wall, you ask, “Did something happen?”

He breathes out slowly through his nose, eyes caught where he’d just placed his heavy, dutiful sword. “They want to go straight for bloodshed. They thought I’d get here and just march into the fucking palace.”

You open your mouth, bracing your hands on the mattress beside you as if unsure if you want to stand up or gawk at him. “What? Just walk right up? How does that make any sense?” you say. “You said no, right?”

“Yes, I said no.” Taehyun sits on his bed and works on the laces of his boots. “It doesn’t just make no sense. It’s not how war works. Not a faerie war.”

“Were they… okay with that? You telling them no?” He’s not a general that has commanded an army at war—not his father. They know nothing but the fact that Taehyun is the General’s son and that he’s come here pretending that he’s somebody to tell them what they should or shouldn’t be doing. The faerie ego is not sympathetic to that.

He grits his teeth, jaw flickering.

No. Most definitely not. “Why go in with swords? They know that, by hospitality, they’d have to entertain us if we asked to be. A feast, a celebration of nothing, literally anything. And then we could make a quiet move while we’re in there. Battling it out in some field is ridiculous.”

Taehyun blinks. Thoughts turn in his head, visible through his eyes. “That would break the rules of hospitality, though.”

“So, they won’t see it coming. It seems better than just throwing armor on and hoping we can outnumber them. You said that the North couldn’t win this, but isn’t that only if we play by their rules? Of course they’ll do better when it’s the stakes they put up.”

“You’re good at that.”

“Well,” you say, unsure and flustered. “It just makes the most sense. I thought it’d be what you were thinking too.”

He lets his head drop into a laugh. A laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever held on to the sound of someone’s laugh the way you do the soft, mellow sound. 

You linger on the last remnants of his smile, letting its stark contrast with his usual disposition ring through your bones, as he snuffs out the candle and lets a new, uncharted kind of silence fall over the space.

You linger on it as you fall asleep, too. 

❆

The camp becomes more hollow as Taehyun takes up his role. The only time you get to see him now is when he steps into the tent too late in the night. He’s always up earlier than you.

It’s not like you have anything else to do. Other than Taehyun, this place is just an encampment of strange, hard faces and unnerving eyes that watch you as you toil through the days. Eyes that are curious as to why you’re even here. You start to wonder the same, under their scrutiny. It certainly feels like you shouldn’t be. 

You know better than to stick your nose in their business or to try and make friends. Instead, you whittle time down with practicing on the fine, veneered bows and taking your needle to any tattered old fabric you see. 

Today, you snatched one of Taehyun’s simple black tunics to work away at. All you’d brought in your pack when you had stuffed your essentials in there was some black thread. So you stitch blackthorn branches around the cuffs even though nobody would notice unless they cared to look.

You thread and you thread, letting the world blend into nothing as it always does when you work with your hands like this. The sun sinks from its peak, casting golden afternoon warmth onto your skin from in between tents. You focus on that. When you were a girl, you did the same thing with the goldspun threads you had then. It’s one thing you had for yourself.

Only the sound of something different draws your attention enough to drag you away from decorating the cuffs. A familiar sound; melodic and off-kilter in the same way. Something so singular that you’d know it anywhere, no matter if it made sense or not. Faerie music, and not just any faerie music.

Your feet follow the sound until you find him: a flop of golden hair, freckles spackled over his nose, and music floating away from his lute like magic. Because it is magic.

But, why would he be here?

“How come I knew you’d show up right when I was looking for you?” Kai says. He has clover in his hair, of course he does, and wears a faerie smile. “You have such a strange way of finding yourself in the middle of things. Come for a dance?” He plucks a few notes like an invitation.

You can’t disagree with that. Staying put where you are, you say, “What’s a bard got to do in a place like this?”

“A faerie needs music wherever they will go,” he answers, “and none else more than us antsy for a show.” Crisscrossed in the grass, he puts his instrument down for the first time since you’ve known the strange faerie. “It would not be remiss to say that you and I are both here on equally unlikely terms. Who is to say that you are to be here and I am not, or that I am to be, and you are not?”

Beomgyu’s vernacular has made you at least a bit more accustomed to faerie turns of speech, but Kai speaks the wordiest of them all. A taleteller. That was either fully the truth, or a lie disguised somewhere in those long and gossamer words. It has to be at least partly the truth, though, because Kai is sympathetic to the North. 

Or maybe he isn’t. You can’t tell exactly what Kai is, or what he believes in, or if he likes or dislikes you, or if he’s here or there. The only certain thing about him is that you might never know.

“Okay, well,” you say, “I’ll be off then, if we’re playing riddles.”

Kai looks up at you, his brows raised presumptuously. “Why leave when you’ve only just arrived?” he says. “We are two of a kind here. I don’t see why we two can’t be friends. And, oh, do I have something that you ought to see.”

Your interest must show in your face, because he smiles and pats the ground beside him. That could mean a hundred different things, coming from him. You don’t move, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t be wary,” he laughs. It sounds something like bells twinkling in the distance. “What good would it bring me to play tricks on you? You’ll hate to miss what I’ve brought for you.”

Still not entirely convinced, but definitely intrigued, you take a seat on the ground with him, criss-crossing your legs. A gentle breeze tugs your hair one way. It’s a beautiful day. Maybe you should’ve let yourself enjoy it a little.

“Not a trick,” you say, playing with the grass beneath your fingertips. “Then what? I thought you to be the tricksy type.”

The sun gilds his silhouette, making his hair into true gold around the edges. He laughs, nose wrinkling with such joy that you wonder if it really was that funny. “You suffer trust,” he says.

It’s nothing but a flippant, passing remark. Nonetheless, it strikes you deep, because deep down you know it’s the truth. You just hate that it’s so obvious to them and their kind. You hate that everything about you is obvious to them. It’s as though they reach in and flip through your pages, while you’re stuck out here trying to figure it out yourself. Beomgyu had done the same.

The long moment in which you look at him makes him laugh again, shaking his head. “Here. Let me show you.” He reaches into a pocket.

A letter. He produces a letter. You aren’t stupid enough to pretend that it might be from Beomgyu or anybody else. Belly dropping, you know exactly who’s written to you.

“I don’t want it,” you rush out. “Keep it. Send it back to him and tell him I won’t be taking any of his letters.”

You keep telling yourself that you’re past it. Past him. No healed person has to remind themselves that they are, or has to choke down the lump in their throat at a slight reminder as this. It is achingly pathetic.

Kai seems to think so, as well. He furrows his brows. “You don’t want them? Are you not lovers?”

“No, we are not,” you lie. Or, well, it’s the truth, but it’s as venomous as a lie on your tongue. “It doesn’t matter. I wonder why he would send you all the way here just for this.” Now, it’s clear why Kai is here at this camp. 

He grins, because your reaction makes it obvious to anybody looking close enough. “Take it. Read it at least once, and then burn it if you must. I can’t leave this place until you have it.”

That doesn’t sound so awful. Tentatively, you accept it into your hands.

Kai, in a different tone of voice than before, points at the little patch of clover that you wouldn’t be wrong to assume he stole the ones in his hair from. A four leaf clover stands proud in the center of them. “Luck, it seems,” he says, “has its own say.”

What that means, you don’t know. You take his letter and burn it in a candle flame, watching the words float up in curls of wispy smoke. Not for anger, but because you know better than to do this again. You know yourself and how much you love his sweet words too much to even allow yourself to read them first.

And over the weeks the next came and then the next. You burnt those ones too. Seeing Kai becomes your routine, stepping out into fresh air to go sit with him wherever it is. A damp patch of grass, on a fallen log out in the edge of the forest, in between two tents. He’s somebody to talk to, and goodness are you hungry for that. He’ll play old songs for you, telling you stories in which you are even less sure whether or not they’re bolstered with dramatics than Beomgyu’s.

Goodness, you miss that horse. You ask Kai to take something to him for you, since he’s coming in and out anyway. The letter you get back makes you laugh out loud. In jagged, unsightly lines, he scrawled back, sending letters now, are we?  You’re just surprised he knows how to write, honestly. Would it be a cruel joke to write back and say, you’re free? Would that even work over ink? It seems that you’ll be here forever, with the way things are going now. The long haul. Taehyun wouldn’t even know Beomgyu was gone until you got back.

Nonetheless, you are certain he’s content there by himself, though it isn’t the loch he wishes it would be. 

There’s always something happening here, and you live just on the outskirts of it. You’re not sure what. Taehyun doesn’t come to tell you about it, but from what you’ve pried at Kai over, you know that things aren’t going well. You figured as much, what with the quietness that Taehyun returns with every night, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders, and the way his face has become sharper.

The weight of a leader that he will shoulder, because he believes it to be his duty.

❆

For the first time in a while, Taehyun comes back at an hour that you’re not opening one heavy eye to watch him through. Kicking the blankets off your legs, you sit up and watch him peel his doublet over his head, the one with the Blackthorn crest in silver.

And then he takes his tunic off, and there is his back, bared to your eyes. Your stomach erupts with violent butterflies. His muscles move under his skin, precise and powerful, the movement of him throwing the fabric elsewhere showing them off beneath each jagged old wound. At the top, in his shoulder blade, is one that you recognize. 

“That looks better than when I last saw it,” you say, voice gentle with sleepiness. 

Taehyun pauses, looking over his shoulder. “I thought you were asleep. I’m sorry.” 

Tension; tension as thick as smoke in the air between you. It’s been that way for a while now. Suffocating.

“No, it’s okay.” You purse your lips. “I haven’t gotten to talk with you much. I stayed up a bit later.” The fact that it insinuates that you’ve been waiting to speak with him, you don’t address. You sleep in the same little space every night. It’s hard not to want that. 

Sitting on his bed, elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped, he looks at you for a long moment. “Is that so?” he says. “I didn’t know.”

How could he know? It’s not like the two of you have ever been the way you and Beomgyu had. The way you and Yeonjun had. There’s always been this exact indescribable tension underlying it all between you. Something you are desperate to understand, but in the same way, deeply frightened to. 

Crossing the room, you sit beside him. “I know you’re busy,” you say, filling the candle-lit air with words. “The stitches. They helped? It doesn’t look so bad.” You lie. It’s a gnarly scar, still red and tender, but no longer an open wound. For some reason, though you don’t think another scar would bother him too much, you don’t want him to know that it’s unsightly. It’s not what he deserves to hear. He got that one carrying your poisoned self when he didn’t need to. 

There are a lot of things he did for you that he didn’t need to, and you struggle to grapple with why he did. Why he left behind a spy’s golden trove of information as if those years of his life meant nothing. Why he did a number of the things he did, when it made no sense for him to. Taehyun isn’t one who will do the kinder thing over the rational thing. So, then, why?

“They did,” he hums, his voice low. “It healed up fine. Thank you.”

There’s a few long beats of silence. You’re looking at his back, curved forward into a bend, and you blurt it. You curse yourself even as it's coming out, because it’s a ridiculous thing to ask, really.

“Can I…?” you say, a soft thing that trails off toward the end. Bringing your palm up, you hover it just over his back. 

Taehyun tenses up, but he doesn’t object.

His skin is everything that a living thing’s should not be, under your palm. Cold; bitterly so, and each long, marred line is a groove under the pads of your fingertips. His back is torn up, and then smooth muscle where it isn’t. It makes your stomach sick.

“Are these… all from him?”

The timbred rumble of his voice reverberates through your palm. “No. Not all of them.” You run your fingers over a vicious, sideways scar. Something once festering and visceral, but his skin mended into something whole once more. That jagged mark will never leave, though. “But some are.”

His voice is distant and tight. You know it’s that he thinks speaking of it is pitying himself, when he survived it already. He doesn’t see it how you do—how much it’s clear that those still bother him. Your heart clenches in your chest, but you hold back all the things brimming on your tongue. You don’t want him to think you pity him.

“How did you get that one?”

He surprises you by answering. “The day I learned I was strong enough to fight him.”

Your hand freezes on his back. You knew each had a story, but hearing them is different. “What happened?” you ask, gentle but prodding. You wonder which parts of him were built by that man, and which still remind him of it.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Taehyun says. His voice is tight; walls beginning to draw back up. 

“No, it doesn’t.” You thumb the scar he got with you before, and then so very slowly, you press a soft kiss to just beside it . Your breath puffs out from your nose, warmth over the frigidity of him. 

Taehyun shudders. His heart thumps in his chest—you can hear it, up this close. An unsteady rhythm, frantic against his ribcage. When he sits up and turns to look at you, his eyes are something different. Somewhere between intense, frightened, or unsure.

Your heart mimics his. With your voice a low, gentle sound, you say, “I’m sorry for that one.”

Where he had walked in here a war general with hard eyes and his jaw tight, the man you see now is one who hasn’t ever known a gentle touch, who never hardened himself so that he couldn’t. And yet—like a frightened, unsure animal, he lets you in just enough to know that you won’t balk at his unsightliness. Beyond just his torn-up body. That doesn’t bother you, beyond the heaviness knowing what he was made to survive leaves you. Rather, down to what he is at his very core.

❆

 Most of what you know about what’s happening comes from Kai. Not that Kai has ever shown animosity toward you—with time, you’ve come to at least enjoy listening to him playing for hours. You wish Taehyun would come to you to talk about it. Wish that he felt like he could. 

What is this, between you? Is it trust, or not? You don’t know. You don’t even know how you feel, let alone even beginning to know how he does. But with this, shouldering it all himself, it looks like maybe he doesn’t. And, then again, his favorite tunic to wear for weeks has been the one that you made pretty. The threading that only he and you would know was there. Small gestures, and whatever they mean from him.

The sentiment toward Taehyun, with the faeries here, and you’re sure back home in the North, is starting to sour toward him. His moves have all fallen apart, ended up with us worse than we started off with. You keep a distance between yourself and all of that—but even you know what’ll happen if that trend keeps up. What use is a general that will lead you into loss? They’ll rid themselves of him. 

Worse. You choose not to think about that, or the dark pit it leaves in your stomach.

It makes no sense at all. Taehyun is capable and intelligent—he doesn’t do anything without considering it. If anybody in this world was to succeed in something like this, it’s him. But suddenly he is not, and you watch it weigh on him. 

And then, there’s Yeonjun. His sending letters tells you he’s at least okay. You might make peace with receiving and burning them forever, did you still not wonder about him, or ache for somebody to hold some nights. There had been a time in your life when you had never known what it was to hold or to be held, and still you lived. A bitter part of you wishes you never did. It’s like what Beomgyu had said: You’ve only got so much of yourself. Each time you fill yourself up with our magic, you lose that space. You will never be whole again

You will never be whole again. Yeonjun’s love was magic in its own right, even if it wasn’t really. It sometimes seems like it’s a hollow, empty spot inside of you where he sat. But that’s not right. It’s that he is still there, and always will be, and you feel as much when you try and pretend otherwise. So now you are to live forever as if you didn’t know him, didn’t love him, and it aches. You cannot pretend it doesn’t.

So, sometimes, you consider whether or not it’s better to live without him forever or to forget yourself and indulge. It’s not like he ever was a pure evil. Hardly that. But when you get to thinking about how sweet he’d been, how much you enjoyed it, you remind yourself of what he did, who he’s left you as. For the better. For the better.

You worry that he really will make good on what he wrote in those letters. Regardless of what he sends you now, you choose not to look. Losing you was fresh, then. Yeonjun is not nonsensical, just hurt. You tell yourself that, anyway. 

Taehyun’s in your tent before you even are tonight, slipping in after a long evening of Kai trying to teach you the lute. As handy as you are, music seems to be out of the question. You don’t just spend time with him on days where he comes with letters—it’s most of your days, now. It’s easier that way.

His shoulders are rigid. He sits, so still and lost in thought. Sword still on his hip and still dressed down to his boots, he probably hasn’t moved since he sat there. It’s not hard to imagine what it is.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, ruffling through your trunk for something to make a snack out of. “Do they still not trust you?”

Taehyun scoffs. “They don’t just not trust me. They want me out. Not all of them, but the loud ones. They think that I’m doing it on purpose.” Laughing with a caustic edge, he shakes his head and looks at you. “I wish I was.” After a moment, he adds, “How did you know?”

“Kai said as much,” you say. Forget eating. 

A look of something akin to realization flashes over his eyes, and then he nods. “Of course. Of course.”

“...What?” you say, knitting your brows. 

“Somebody’s been telling my people that I’m a traitor. Somebody’s been making sure that each and every one of my moves goes down in flames. Somebody was sent here to do a prince’s bidding and give you his letters.”

Pausing, you frown. You didn’t think that Taehyun knew about those, but you also think that he’s just pieced that together himself. “But I’ve been with him most days,” you say. You were today, and then just the day before. “He wouldn’t have been able to.”

Jaw working, Taehyun trains his eyes on you. “Does that mean you were with him always? And that doesn’t mean that he dirtied his own hands.” He pauses, softening his tone the littlest bit. “You don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

You know that. Goodness, do you know that. You might say that he’s just avoiding considering the fact that it could be that his moves have failed, but that’s not Taehyun. If it were that, it wouldn’t bother him like this. He’d try a new approach, find a way, because he is utterly capable. That’s the problem, and why he’s come to this conclusion. Because he already knows that it’s the truth. 

“Then, should we do something that couldn’t be sabotaged?”

He waits for you to elaborate with interest shining in his dark eyes. 

Flushing, you’re reminded of the last time he trusted you enough to follow your lead, and how it ended for you. Still, he looks ready to do it again. You take a gnaw at your lip before saying, “We could do something. Us, if they’re just gonna mess it up when you send others. That way we know that it gets done, and they’ll see that it’s not your fault. They’ll trust you again, even if someone’s running their mouth.”

Taehyun thinks about that for a few moments. The silence as he does reminds you again of what you stand to lose if it went sideways. “They’re not as easy to convince as that. Not if somebody’s still in their ears, and if they’ve already decided that I’m not who they want leading their army.” A beat. “But, better that than letting it happen.”

You let out a long sigh, settling down opposite of him on his bed. Letting the silence stir between you with only your eyes speaking for a few moments, you say, “You think it’s him?” Not Kai—Yeonjun. At least, the one who would want this.

“I know it is.” His face goes hard, a sharpness you’re familiar with. “And you cozied right up with his messenger. It’s ironic.”

Gritting your teeth, you shoot back, “That’s not fair.”

Taehyun doesn’t answer you. His eyes burn with something beyond anger—an expression that you can just barely name hurt. You hold back the reflexive scoff that begs to come tumbling out like an old habit. Back to this. Searching his face, you try to find what, exactly, has him looking at you like that.

“Don’t do that,” you say. The emotion that comes out with it, straining the words, surprises you. “You’re just… shutting me out again. I thought you…” You don’t finish your sentence, but the air carries the meaning along for you. I thought you would let me in.

He doesn’t answer, but there’s a flash of something over his face. A wince. Like he wants to say something, but he can’t let himself.

“Why do you do that?” you say. Your blood roars to life in your veins, and you find your mouth straining under the weight of words you’ve wanted to say, just like it has for so long. And then it buckles. “To be honest with you, Taehyun, nothing you do makes any sense. One minute, you’re looking at me so cold that it looks like I mean nothing to you, and then another you’re… You’re saying stuff that I don’t understand. One second you won’t even speak to me, and then you’re leaving behind your life because I wanted to stay with Yeonjun. Why? Why would you do that? Why didn’t you go back and tell them I was a traitor kissing their prince? Why didn’t you get me killed? You make me think…” Your voice cracks despite you, but you don’t care if it makes him see you weak. “ It’s not fair.”

The tent falls silent, the air a thousand pounds, each beat sounding like you’ve said it now. Chills erupt over your arms, and you can take none of them back, so no matter what, you will at least finally know. Finally. Your  stomach is done so tight up in knots.

“Because I never cared about being a spy,” he says, face dropped. “Or about being general, or being Lord of an estate, or about what people thought of me either way, or about any King or Queen or wars.”

Reeling, you breathe. The slow sound of it fills the room, but the pounding of your heart in your ears roars over it. That makes no sense at all. Your mind buzzes. 

 “Why did you do any of it, then, Taehyun? What do you care about?”

His throat works. Those cold eyes have something tender in them, but not a gentle tender. Tender like an old wound that he’s long since licked clean himself, that he hates to poke and examine out loud. Despite it, he tells you. Just for you, because you tend to always need him to do so. 

“Nothing. I cared for nothing.” He’s rigid, so out of place, sat in front of you. “So I gave myself purposes.”

That word, cared, puts in context so much that you have to blink and make your head stop spinning just so that you can catch a solid thought. He cared for nothing. You have had Taehyun wrong in your head down to a ridiculous, fundamental level. Taehyun didn’t become who he is because that’s what he wanted. He was a ghost, a shell left hollowed out, floating between duties that he assigned himself just to survive, like becoming a spy, or whatever else he did. He had no goal, no place he cared to call home. Never want or let himself want anything—froze himself from the inside out to ensure it.

Cared, as if he found something to care for. Your mouth dries up, belly doing flips. Because, of course he didn’t care about leaving behind his life to follow you wherever you went, when he has been cold for so long, and he felt something. Of course he went to any lengths, no matter how unsure his motivation seemed to you then, to keep you safe. Of course he tried to mold himself into Yeonjun’s shape, as unbending and unmoldable as he is, because he felt that whatever hollowness he saw inside himself, you would not want. He knew that he was pushing you away because he doesn’t know how to nurture something like that, so he tried to veneer himself with bits of the man you were so enraptured with. Filled that hollowness up with something he thought would make you look his way—but of course he’d never say it. He couldn’t make himself, no matter how much he wanted it. Because that is who Taehyun is: a contradiction of himself.

All those time’s he’d frozen up and lashed out at you, because it was fucking killing him. Seeing you with Yeonjun. You had thought moments ago that it was Yeonjun who was the one with a bottomless sea of wants. Well, where Yeonjun wants, Taehyun needs. He will have you, because somebody who has only ever let themselves want something once is not going to just let it go.

What could you even say to that? How could you digest the bigness of it? Instead of trying, you go utterly still and wide-eyed in front of him. 

He wanted something to trust. Searching his eyes, the ones that have gotten even more wildly tender in your silence, you determine that. Taehyun had nothing and nobody, not his father, not his killed mother, not a single one of his own kind in this world, to trust.

You, hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, breath fully for the first time in a while. You think you know the feeling. You think that you have become intimately familiar with the severe lack of it. That much, you can offer him.

The words fall from your mouth floaty and ethereal. Something unreal in the orange, all-too-real glow of the space. “I understand.”

About all the things that just came crashing over your head like ice water, or about the yearning for trust, you’re not sure. Either way, you do.

❆

Crouched behind some bushes, your knees dig into the mud. In front of you, the High King’s palace stands proud, briars crawling up its walls and strange, unpredictable windows here and there. It looks more like a festival hall than a palace.

Taehyun decided that doing something, just the two of you, like you had said, was best. It’s reminiscent of where you began. The two of you, spies again. In a way.

It’s nostalgic, but then it’s also so… new. The air between you, charged with new energy, but energy that grips you all the same. So many questions were answered, but so many cropped up to fill their absence.

But this feels lighter. You can’t discern why, when it fully should leave your spine tingling. The gravity of what he feels for you should tug you straight down to the earth with the force of it. It doesn’t. Turning to where he crouches beside you, you eye the lines of his profile. Your heart does a little jump.

“Now?” you say.

“A minute. We have to wait for the watch to change.” He tilts his head up in a point gesture toward the massive door at the main entrance.

“Or, we could go in another way. I’m sure they have other doors. How can we just walk right in?”

“There could be a door in through the servant’s quarters, but…” he says, eyes flicking over to you.

“That sounds like it would be better, though. Easier.” The hall is massive—you don’t doubt they use servants to make it run.

Running a thumb over the bottom of his sword at his hip, a little thing you noticed he does, Taehyun falters. “They keep human servants,” he says.

Like Soobin. Glamoured to be brainless hands, floating like spirits around the halls to fulfill their assigned purpose. You eye its walls and think of how easily you could’ve found yourself there. Some fates are fairer than others. You wish you knew why. 

“We’ll wait until we see those watchmen leave. Then we can slip in.” He says it as fact. “We’ll search rooms. It’s not much, but we could use leverage. Anything.”

You nod slowly, and then turn to watch through the gaps in the leaves.

The watch does change, as Taehyun has said. You slip in silently, and nobody stops you. If it’s so easy to make your way into here, maybe war with them wouldn’t be so unimaginable. Your eyes dart everywhere as you do. It couldn’t really be that easy.

But it is. You split off from Taehyun. At the center, there’s an opening hall where feasts must be held. You imagine how many of those have happened there, and how many of the kinds of stories Kai tells you might’ve started right beneath that high ceiling. You don’t linger long enough for anybody to find you, but you do take in the look of the walls and imagine how Yeonjun would’ve done the same years ago. His home.

You peek your head into a number of rooms. None look like anything important, but you dip in to scan them just in case. Not counting the guards, you haven’t seen a soul. Empty; each room, empty. With how alive Court had been in the north, this is starkly not that. A dead palace. How strange, considering that the North is known for its bitterness and unwelcoming nature, and this place the opposite. It doesn’t feel that way.

You come to a room that gives you pause. It’s decorated not too differently from the rest, a bedroom as opposed to studies and other sorts of rooms, bathed in crushed velvet greens. The floor is littered with a strange array of things, surfaces dusted. It’s even more vacant than the rest of the hall, left untouched by whoever called it theirs once.

And, it’s familiar. You just get this achy, tingling feeling in your core. Bending down, you blow dust off some paint. It’s bright and colorful in ways only something from the human world is. Reds, blue, yellow, a rainbow in a little palette of dried up colors. A few unfinished, amateurish canvases lean against a wooden dresser. Decks of cards, none like any from here, scatter over the wood panelling. 

Yeonjun always did like keeping human things. Dragging in a long, deep breath, you try and see if you can catch the woody, warm scent of him, left lingering here where he no doubt spent so much time. Nothing but the musk of an empty, dusty room meets you.

Picking up a leatherbound book from the blanket, you sit and pull it open. It creaks like old leather. The pages are moth-bitten and most are blank.

In an elegant hand, you find a written page. That handwriting. You loose a steadying breath. 

It reads, They say I’d only make some stupid order that all humans would be free from our people, were I King. Would that really be so terrible? 

You wet your lips. It’s some letter that never ended up with whoever he intended it for. Seeing that he did, in fact, live a wholly different life is strange. He left it behind for reasons that you know—he hated this place. Still, seeing it all confirmed. In front of your face. The rebellion must mean a lot to him. It seems, reading these little bits left behind, that he had his reasons. And obviously, he did. Nobody leaves behind their life for no reason. The time he spent in the human world changed him. Or, it magnified what had always been there: a soft spot.

Footsteps come for the door. You snap the book shut, but the door’s already opening.

“Hey,” Taehyun says. 

Clinging to the leather, you let yourself breathe. “Hey,” you echo.

“You’re not great at being quiet,” he says, lips tilting up to one side in something that you could call almost playful. “You’re lucky that there’s nobody here. Anybody with my ears would’ve known you were in here.”

You figured as much. “Why, though? Where are they?”

“I don’t know where.” His gaze flickers around the room before landing back on you. “They have never left this hall. I thought that they would’ve just sat in here and let us right in before ever leaving.”

“Eerie…” you hum, hopping off the bed. 

“Yeah.” Thoughts swirl behind those eyes. “They were smart enough not to leave anything, either. I found nothing.”

Looking down at the book you clutch to your chest, you purse your lips. Neither had you, but no part of you wants to leave this to be gnawed on some more. So, you don’t.

❆

Pulling back the bowstring comes easier now. It creaks, your arms aching. But you release your breath in a slow, measured puff, eyes finding the center of a straw bullseye a hundred yards down.

You let it fly. It cuts the air straight and makes its mark a little left of dead center. Always a little left… You huff, arms aching. Kai plays a song that faded into background noise thirty minutes ago.

“You shoot well,” Kai says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You taught yourself?”

Shooting him a glance, you shake your head.

“Then, the General taught you himself,” he deducts. “An interesting thing.”

“I guess. A lot of things are interesting. Like how you play music the way you do.” A deflection, more than anything.

Kai pats the face of his lute. “You’ve learned how to speak like us, though you can lie. That, of all things, is interesting. You’ve spent more time around our kind than most. Tell me, what have you learned?”

He’s no doubt collecting a story he thinks he can make into a song. A storyteller like him is always listening and watching for another. That’s one way to be immortalized in this world. “I have no reason to lie,” you say, tinted with a laugh.

“Don’t you?” he says, playful eyes watching you. 

“Don’t I?” Forget your bow—you toss it elsewhere. “Am I the one with a reason to lie?”

Cocking his head to the side, his mouth splits into a grin. Many of the folk are glad for animosity; Kai seems to be the type. He knows exactly what you mean. “You have a lot to say. I’d like to hear it.”

You do. But where do you start? Instead of asking him something that beats around the bush, something he could find a loophole in, you’ll ask him plainly. That’s a start. “Why are you trying to sabotage us? Is it because of Yeonjun? Did he ask you to?”

“He did,” Kai answers, without any flounce or fakery. Straight up. It shocks you. It shouldn’t be that easy. He could’ve just as well not answered. That might’ve been as much an answer as saying it outright, though. “Does that make you hate him?”

Freezing in place, your mouth doesn’t move to say yes. You don’t know how to answer that. You wish you did. Instead, you say, “What does he think he’s achieving? What if they find out that he’s sneaking around? It’s stupid.”

“It is,” Kai hums. The day is overcast, but his colors aren’t dulled by the grey sky. “When the prince feels, he feels it true. He makes his mind, and then he lives for it.” The way his eyes meet yours strikes you. Full of meaning. “What, then, would he change his mind on something like a purpose he believed as he did that one for?”

“I’m asking you,” you say. Yeonjun feels deeply and unapologetically, you are already intimately aware of that. From the moment he told you that his initial purpose was to identify and have you as spies killed, you have wondered how deeply he stood for the cause. That’s another thing that’s troubled you for the fact that you can’t make peace with it.

Well, since he’s here in front of you, it’s best to just ask.

“Did Yeonjun love me? Really love me?”

“He did, but I believe you know that already. That’s not what you really wonder.”

You hate that he knows. Gritting your teeth, you nod.

“You interest me, so I’ll give you this. The prince has never cared to become a king. A soft-hearted, joke of an heir. So, then, why would he have rebelled against his father if not to have his spot? Because he had one purpose, after living among your kind. The prince could never stand the way we treat you. That was enough for him to leave his home and try to change it.”

Yeonjun’s book still sits somewhere in your trunk. That lines up with what you had read. 

“The prince cares for you,” he says. “More than even that. Enough to forget what else he did. Enough to forget anything else.”

There that is again. Why does it even matter to Kai? “I’m sure he said the same plenty of times before,” you say. Bitterness, as a habit. “I don’t understand why you do what he says. What’s in it for you, if he has me back? I don’t see what you gain.” Kai, who lived always between here and there.

“He’s an old friend,” he answers. “And I know what it is to love a human. That’s all.”

You purse your lips. He was a part of the rebellion as well. As mysterious as he is, of course Kai has his own reasons. 

“Tell him that, if he does love me, then he’d stop. It’s past the point where we can go back to what it was.”

“I know that what happened hurt you, but I don’t think you really believe that.” 

He says it so matter-of-factly, so airily, that it doesn’t even annoy you. Your ears go hot with defensiveness. “You don’t know me. How would you know that?”

Shrugging, he says, “It doesn’t matter what I say. But you have a few decisions you need to make for yourself. Not for what you should do, but whatever it is that you want.”

“And, what? I should decide to run back to him? Because that’s what you want, and he wants, so that’s what I should want too?” Your knuckles bleach white. “I don’t trust him. I can’t trust a word you or him say.”

“Why? Because he was scared to tell you, but still, he did because you deserved to know?”

Shaking your head, you say, “Does he pity himself? If he was as selfless as you want me to believe, he would’ve left it at that. But he didn’t. You’re here, aren’t you? That’s proof enough.”

“I’m hardly trying to say that he’s selfless. He is selfish. But it’s distorted to pretend that he’d hurt you.”

“What do you know?” you say, scoffing with pure acid. His eyes watch you as you go, but he doesn’t call after you.

Your nails make crescents in your palms, but you dig them in harder so that you feel that, rather than the aching like a poked bruise you thought had healed. His words ring disturbingly true regardless.

❆

Even though it seems that Taehyun is under more stress now than he ever was before, something has changed between you. Something unspoken.

It’s not as if he’s become talkative. But in some quiet moments, you catch him for long enough to have quiet, meaningless conversations with him into the night. And the nights where you get those dreams, he doesn’t mind you taking a spot in his bed to talk yourself out of it. He surely misses out on sleep for it, and as busy as he is, he surely needs it, but he never complains. Just listens to you ramble until you’re too tired to worry that you’ll close your eyes and find something frightening behind them.

He’s awkward. Terribly awkward about it. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at you. You imagine that he’s piecing together his speech in his head. It’s endearing in a way that has your heart clenching in your chest. He understands so much of the world so deeply, the darkest corners of it, but letting someone close? Speaking just to speak? It’s as though he’s trying to teach himself when he’s around you.

Orange flickers over the planes of his face. He watches you, his arms crossed over his chest, like he usually does.

“Taehyun?” you say, hair unkempt and your eyes sleepy. He doesn’t seem to care. “Can I ask you something?”

He hums.

Ever since he whispered it into your ear, that unintelligible word, you’ve been viciously curious. Chills erupt over your skin at the memory. Him behind you, the pads of his fingers on your skin, the heat of his breath. And, whatever it had meant, it crackled like magic in the air. Something different. 

“That one day, you said a word that I couldn’t understand. What did it mean?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he shifts. “My real name.”

You freeze, mouth dropping open as though to scoff and laugh it off. But his face is bare of humor. That can’t be right. Having a faerie’s real name is as good as them handing their life over to you. They don’t just hand them over like that. Most will spend their entire life guarding holding it viciously to their chest, and for good reason. Anything you said or commanded, he would have to do. The way Beomgyu’s face had morphed when Taehyun commanded him to do anything—something like that. Anyone with a faeries name could tell them to crawl in the dirt and then take a dagger to cut their tongues out, and they would. They would. 

And, Taehyun, of all of them? It doesn’t seem logical for him to give that to you. For a man so adept at surviving, it’s out of order. “What?” you say, voice peaking. “Why?”

As if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he says flatly, “Because I trust you with it.”

Your chest tightens. What a heavy, unbelievable thing to hold: somebody’s life in your hands, and to know that without a doubt that you will nurture it. His life, with which he did not care for so long about. You understand the gravity of that.

“I could hurt you with it,” you say. You can’t breathe, the air sucked from the room. “Aren’t you worried about that?”

“Then do it.” His jaw flickers. “Hurt me with it.”

How can he just say that? “No—why would I? I won’t ever. I won’t ever even use it. I promise you.”

“It’s yours.” He shrugs. “Use it how you want.”

The words slither up your spine, tickling the back of your skull. Oh. “I don’t even remember how to say it.” Could you? The vivid memory plays out, and it’s as incoherent to you as it had been then.

In a low, breathy voice, he repeats it. The hair on your arms stands up.

It takes you a few tries before you finally manage to get something close to it to come from your mouth. The dimple in his cheek peeks out with each attempt. But when you do get it, his eyes darken.

“There,” he says, nodding once. “Say it again.”

You do. The air crackles and comes alive.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It feels like when I ate Lachrymose.” Tastes like it, too.

He frowns. “When did you?”

The knee-jerk reaction is to lie and say that it was something that happened when you were little. But you’re trying to tell less of those. “There was this time that he took me to a market. I had to have some to even see it.”

Taehyun’s jaw ticks, shadows flickering, but he doesn’t comment on it. “I had a feeling you were off doing dumb stuff.” It’s terse, but not mean. You might even call it an attempt at humor.

Snorting, you cross your arms. “You can’t pretend I’m the mysterious one.”

“Mysterious?” he says, arching his brows.

“Yes, mysterious. What do I know about you? I guess I know that you were a spy, but that doesn’t count.”

“That’s because there isn’t much to know.” His voice goes distant like it always does when he’s thinking.

Even if he had lived a phantom life, everybody has a history. “That’s not true. I’ve never been more curious about anybody’s past than I am yours.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sorry? For what?”

“That I don’t have anything to tell you.”

A life like that must’ve been awful. Your heart aches for him. Going from one place to another, unsure why you are or what you want or what your purpose is. “Was it lonely?” you ask.

Hair brushes his eyes as he moves. They look softer under this light—not soft, but softer. “It was all I knew. It couldn’t have been lonely.”

But, he felt the lack. Whether he calls it loneliness or not, he knew he was carved out by something. Isn’t that loneliness?

“Did you like being a spy?” Did it hurt you to leave it behind, you want to add. 

“No more than for the fact it was something I was good at. I’m good with swords and metal, and not much else. It was a start.”

You nod, smiling gently, “I’m not good for much else than sewing.”

The air sits still between you, a calming presence that wraps you up in its arms. At ease, safe, like you usually feel with him.

You talk until your throat’s sore. Youdon’t even realize dawn has come until he pushes himself up off the bed and the soft blue light peeks in as he leaves.

Laying under your blankets to fight the morning chill, you say his true name one more time. Just to taste it.

❆

The drooping pearl of the necklace Yeonjun gave you swings delicately side to side. No matter what, you couldn’t leave it. You hold it out, watching it. Just watching it.

Kai had gotten up under your skin. His words peeled the dressing you had so carefully laid down for yourself. He’d done it so easily that you’re almost angry.

It doesn’t feel good to paint Yeonjun out to be all terrible, because he isn’t and never was. The truth of the situation is that he didn’t expect to end up loving you, or maybe he didn’t expect for his job to involve hurting a human life in any way. In any case, he never meant to break your trust.

But he did. Aren’t you a hypocrite, then? You weren’t telling him everything, either. Even if he already knew what you were, that was a decision you made. Because you were afraid. He was afraid he’d lose you, too. At least he told you regardless. That’s what gets you; he did tell you. Is what you’re doing punishment for that? Is it mean? And yet, if you go to him again, what of the fact that he thinks he can make you come back by pulling strings? That leaves a nasty taste on your tongue. 

You don’t know. Dropping your head, you sigh. For a long time, everything has been bubbling up in your chest. Now, it rises into your throat and restricts your breathing. You don’t know, you don’t know. 

The thudding of booted footsteps has you popping your head back up to find Taehyun in the doorway. His mouth moves in a half-smile to say something until he zeroes in on what you hold in your fist. Eyes going sharp, his face twists.

“Oh,” you say. “You’re back.”

His feet remain planted. He’s so still that it doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing. It sends a genuine chill over you, hair prickling. That look; you recognize what it is, now. You’ve seen it once or twice. So intense that it eats up the oxygen in the room and leaves none left for you.

“What’s that?” he says, crossing the room to snatch it from your hand. He watches it spin and glimmer in the lowlight. Last time he had seen it, he couldn’t help but snap it off your neck. His throat bobs around a hard swallow.

“A necklace.”

“Always him,” Taehyun growls, eyes smoldering. “No matter what I do. What will it take for you to stop fucking wanting him?”

You’d breathe, but it all gets caught in the back of your throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t?” he scoffs, taking your face in his hands. So gentle in contrast with the razors he sneers with. “Bullshit.”

You do. Of course you know what he means. You try to muster up words, but his thumb down the line of your jaw stops them short.

“Look me in the eyes,” he says. Mush-brained, like you always seem to be around him, you do. His jaw ticks and he breathes out a weakened, “Fuck.”

The mattress meeting your back doesn’t even register through the thick, fire-smoke haze of his mouth on yours. You gasp into his mouth, fingers curling into the front of his tunic. That same one you had embroidered. Him, walking around in your touch all day. It makes your belly turn over. 

He licks the seam of your mouth, his hands in your hair and then running up your torso and then squeezing the plush fat of your hips, as if he can’t decide where he wants to feel you, so he devours it all at once. As if he could make up for all the times he wanted so badly to do this, but could not. 

You gasp for breath when your mouths part, kiss so impatient and frantic that it dazes you and leaves your lips smeared. “Taehyun,” you shudder out. He always leaves you stupid and with nothing to say but that. 

He takes your chemise where it lands on your thighs and brings it up. Each inch is scalding and exhilarating at once. When it’s bunched up above your breasts, those intense eyes eat the sight up. All sharp edges and want, but you see how his ears go red.

“I haven’t wanted anything this bad in my whole fucking life,” he says, palm splayed over your ribcage. “I have gone so long like this. Never had anything to want. But I want all of you. That, I need.”

You shake like a leaf in his hands with it; want. “Take it,” you say. It’s good that it’s nothing more than two words, because you don’t trust your voice right now.

 But, really, is it? You think they’re much more than just words. Your head spins so much that the world blurs into lines around you—everything but him and the beating of your heart. 

Instead of devouring you like you thought he would, he thumbs the hinge of your jaw. Yeonjun, as sure of himself as he is, would’ve. But everything about Taehyun is contrary to what you’ve known. Yeonjun was a slow, tantalizing burn because he knew exactly what he wanted to do with you. Taehyun’s all over you like he cannot get enough, a dazzling white-hot fire. And he cannot get enough.

“Are you sure?” he says, the words tumbling out past his lips with trembling urgency. “Because I’m… Don’t play with me. Please, don’t fucking play with me. You want this?”

You’re just as bad as he is. Worse, even. It’s like he takes whatever is inside of you and makes it tenfold. Your skull pounds to the same terrible rhythm as your center. It goes through you in waves. “Taehyun, please, just do something. I do. I do.” 

His fingers are biting as he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, his hair hanging in his eyes. Dark, swirling pools. You drown in them. They’re even better in between your thighs, down on his knees. 

“Tell me where he touched you,” he says, breaths puffing over your inner thighs. 

So he can replace it all with himself. Your blood boils under your skin.

“Did he do this?” he asks. It doesn’t come out vindictive. No—he’s really asking. He wants to know exactly what you like, to make himself exactly that. Why does that set you on fire the way it does?

“Yes.” You run your palm down the length of your belly, slowly, just to feel it and the tingles. His eyes track it the whole way, darting back up to yours when you take his hair in your hands. “Yes, he did. And he was so good at it, Taehyun.” It’s purposefully antagonistic, but your belly tightens as his face falls to shadows.

The first swipe of his tongue is a test. He watches you jump with analytical precision and then applies that like he does everything else—watching. Observing. Another, trying a flick, and his intelligent eyes note how your thighs shake. Then his fingers go tight under your thighs, the cold of him like frostbite, and he dives in. No long drags, no fanfare.

You squeak, but it devolves into a litany of feral sounds. No, Taehyun is not Yeonjun. He reminds you of that in the way he pins you, his arms stronger, in the different way his mouth moves on your cunt. Not at all. It’s like you’re learning how your body reacts anew. 

He does not let you clamp your thighs around his head, does not let you buck your hips, and does not let you breathe.

“Oh—” you start, but your vision tunnels as he takes your clit into his lips. A graze of teeth here, his tall, strong nose against it there. Wholly overwhelming you so that he knows, beyond a doubt, that there’s nothing in this world that you could be thinking about but this. Him. Because he so desperately needs it that way. 

“Taehyun,” you plead with him. Your fingers tug at his scalp, and you’re positive that his jaw must ache, but there’s nothing but an endless hunger that meets your gaze when you find it in you to pry your eyes open and look. “Taehyun, please,” you say, voice cracking toward the end as your belly tightens.

His nose. It sends your body rigid each time he digs in deeper and bumps it up against you. It pushes you closer, closer, and then closer, until you burn all over, nails digging into his muscle-corded forearms to have something to hold as it licks down your spine. The last words you can manage are intelligible—your tongue betrays you.

Taehyun presses a rough hand right below your navel and holds you down through it. He’s the only thing that’s real beyond your hoarse cries and shaking body. Him. 

He doesn’t stop flicking your clit with his tongue until you’re jumpy and choking on your breaths, belly going taut.

The vision of him as he pulls back has stars speckling your vision. His mouth is covered in you, his pupils blown wide. On him, on his perfect, clean-cut face, it’s the lewdest thing you’ve ever seen. Though you’re still floating in a smoky haze, sedated, it sends glowing sparks through you.

His breaths fan over your face as he climbs back up, maneuvering you however he pleases. With his forehead pressed to yours, he half growls, half shudders, “Damn it.”

The words are scalding. You know exactly what he means, because you’re feeling it too. Something as powerful as the sea swallowing you clean, sucking you down to where you know you won’t ever reach the surface again.

You take a hand and run it up the plane of his stomach, feeling and savoring each scar, until you feel his heart. It thuds under his skin frantically. It echoes through your bones, so loud that you might hear it if you strained your ear enough. It tugs at the strings of your heart.

“You’re nervous?” you say, eyeing the mess of his hair, the flush on his cheeks. All so endearingly human. Sweet, even.

“No,” he says. His voice is vibrantly husky and thick. “I’m not scared. I’m just…” His eyes sweep over the sight of you, the spread of your soft thighs and the splay of your hair and the same glazing of the eyes in yours as there is in his no doubt, longingly. There’s a flicker of unsureness, and then he presses his forehead to your shoulder and rolls his hips into you. He lets that speak, the hardness of him. “Good?”

Running a finger over the curve of his ear, you feel the scar tissue left there. “Good,” you say, still partly lost for breath. More than that; you want him all over you. You want him like liquid silver in your bloodstream, heavy but utterly potent.

He fumbles with his pants for a moment, the sword calloused pads of his free hand brushing over your pulse. It stutters under his thumb as he holds it there—checking if you’re feeling it how he is.

“I have been tortured,” he says, wetting his lips and scoffing as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “I have been tortured, driven up the fucking walls, by the sound you make when you cum. Since you let him have it in my home, since you let me hear it.” His eyes flash, and then he’s bent you straight in half.

With your thighs flush to your front, your mind goes blank white all but for the very human, very fundamental kick that comes with being so utterly held down. All his brawn is suddenly more apparent now than ever. You press at his hard chest, nothing but his breaths to breathe. “Tyun,” you say, calves on his shoulders.

“Good?” he repeats, his jaw working. The tip of him presses to your entrance.

Taking your lip into your teeth, you cut through the haze and nod for him. “Yes,” you say. “I’m good.”

That’s everything he needed to hear. The thick tip of him presses in first, and then you’re hanging on to each new inch, taking to his shape and size slowly but surely. A sound catches in his chest as his body meets yours, a gravelly curse following.

For a moment, he hangs on and lets you wiggle your hips in circles to learn the feeling. He’s different from Yeonjun like this, too. And then he takes your waist into his hands and begins to fuck you, because hardly could the both of you wait a moment longer. You need, need, need. 

He drops his head and works his hips into you so eagerly that it’d be impossible for him not to brush up against that sweet, saccharine spot inside you. You press a palm over your mouth. Not to quiet yourself—when the world has gone to nothing else but him on top of you, you don’t care. But because you haven’t got a clue what else to do with your hands. You’re clawing, bothing grabbing him closer and pushing at him. 

“Taehyun,” you whimper. “There—right there.”

Angling his hips, he searches your face. “Yeah? You…” His voice chokes off before he can gather himself again. “Like it there?”

Cupping the back of his head, you pepper kisses and nip wherever you can reach. It’s all your overwhelmed mind can do to thank him.

That deep, trembling feeling starts at the base of your spine. It’s inescapable between him and the bed beneath you, your toes curling in the air and your back going rigid. Everywhere you go, he’s there. Every square inch of you. 

Taehyun’s no better off. “Fuck,” he whimpers. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard come from his mouth. His head drops into your neck, a procession of something between whiny breaths and growls spilling into your skin.

“I’m…” you say, insides burning up far too much for you to finish that thought. You teeter on the edge just enough to drive you mad, mad enough that falling off feels both like punishment and prize.

He knows, though. “Me too,” he says, voice so tight you think it might snap. Hips faltering, he takes the hair at the back of your skull and tugs your head back just to press a smoldering kiss to your mouth. You know why he’s done it—the sound of his coming undone is muffled into your mouth as he eases up just enough to let your twitching legs down, slipping out. He takes himself into his fist, the slick sounds so obscene they break through your delirium. Belly going taught, the little bit of soft, healthy fat there, he throws his head back and spills over your stomach with a bone-deep sound. 

Both made lazy, you don’t have it in you to move for some long moments. You just listen to the sound of his ragged breaths coming and going off pattern with yours. It’s all you need to hear. All you need to know.

Dazed, you watch him stand to find something to clean you up with. The air is empty, but not bad. Not stifling. He dabs at your belly with a gentle hand, tossing it away. You half expect him to slip out or go lay in his own bed, but he doesn’t. You always did seem to get him wrong, anyway. 

You draw shapes into his skin, talking nonsense with a raspy voice until you’re droopy-eyed and don’t even realize you’re drifting.

❆

Poking through the fabric, you tug the string taut. Another one of Taehyun’s shirts dangles down from your hold.

Something’s happening. You’re not exactly sure what. But he’s hardly here, so something must be. You gnaw at your bitten lip. It doesn’t seem so much like there’s any buzz or mistrust around here anymore, so then what? 

You know that you came here for real war, but the notion of it finally becoming actualized makes your stomach go nauseous. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even know where they’ve gone. That leaves a door of possibilities cracked that you don’t even want to peek into. 

Taehyun can handle it. You know he can. Despite it, you hang on to every moment that he’s not here. What’s that? You decide not to name it, for your sake. 

You thread and you thread, circling the cuffs and then around the neck, letting your mind wander. But not too far. 

A rustle at the tent opening catches your attention, and then Kai’s stepping inside. Your belly doubles over itself. Never once has he come to you. “Is everything okay?” you say, throat tight like you already know. Because you do.

Wasting no time, Kai says, “The prince has been apprehended. But I’d tell you that he’s been given away.”

Silence washes over you as you pause. “What?” you say. Your voice is distant as it comes out. That was not what you were expecting, but it’s not any better. Taehyun’s shirt goes forgotten. 

“For leverage,” he elaborates, “the King has been told about his son's rebellion. He’s been betrayed by one of our own.” There’s a deep sadness in his eyes. Old friends, he had said. “Our general is a cruel, sharp man.”

“What do you mean by that?” you say. The walls spin around you. That’s not right. That’s not right.

Kai doesn’t answer you, but his long, telling look speaks truer than words. Producing a letter, he offers it to you. Yeonjun’s insignia is stamped into wax on the face of it. “I suggest that you read this one.”

Your hand trembles as you take it from him. Yeah. You’d better read it. The cruelty of burning letters hits you like a real blow to the chest. The King has his traitorous son, probably sitting somewhere you haven’t got a clue of, plotting on having his head. So many words—oh, you feel sick just thinking of them going up in smoke now. Yeonjun will die. 

The letter tears with a sickening sound. You don’t have the steadiness in you to open it delicately like you did once.

𝐾𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. 𝐴 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑛.  

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼’𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦. 

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑚𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 

𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙, 𝐼 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡. 𝐼’𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒.

  𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑛

It’s all so sickly sweet, so dramatically him. Hot tears burn down your cheeks, jaw trembling as you make attempts to keep it all in place. Even just to see his handwriting…

You want to close your eyes and pretend that Taehyun would not, but your gut doesn’t allow it. You know the truth. You know that it was Taehyun who deducted it was Yeonjun sabotaging you. You know that it’s Taehyun that so perfectly, so seamlessly hid behind an ice wall for months that you hadn’t a clue how deeply and voraciously he needed to have you. It was him, with his sharp mind—that part of him that is capable of shutting down emotion and acting on brutal, detached strategy. 

A strategist through and through. It was Taehyun who will have Yeonjun’s head.

🪶 ⦂ this is the happiest day of my life (＞＜) i missed them so much. i know how this development is probably making yall feel... so yes i will be needing to hear everything.

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[yesimwriting]

Corridor Moments

A/n this is a request from @mariannagris for a fic with the Darkling x Sun Summoner! reader where they're having a cute moment and then Zoya walks in and sees that they're together and gets jealous.

I'm working on a longer fic that should be up this weekend!! I'm working through a bunch of requests/updates rn I promise lol

--

He's no longer guiding me, but he hasn't moved his hands away--one on my waist, one on my shoulder.

"Aleksander," I try to keep my tone casual, only hinting at a warning.

There's no way he misses it, but he still allows the hand on my shoulder to ghost across my collar before setting his palm on my cheek. "Yes, my sun?"

Before I can roll my eyes, he brushes his thumb across my cheek softly. His touch has started to become more casual, but I'm not sure the comfort it brings me will ever lose its novelty. I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his touch.

"We're not alone." The reminder is more for me than him. All of his actions are intentional, he knows the risks of his sudden bout of affection. "We may be in an empty hallway now, but we're not alone."

Aleksander leans forward slightly, forcing me to press my back into the wall to avoid melting into him. I don't miss his half-smile, a confident smirk breaking across his features. He knows what he's doing. "And what would we need to be alone for?"

The slightest hint of annoyance bubbles in my chest. For someone so determined, he enjoys playing coy more than he should. My lips part, prepared to call him out for his teasing, but Aleksander senses my hesitance like always. He leans forward again, this time pulling my chin up slightly so that our lips could brush together if I just inclined my head slightly.

The closer we get, the more I feel our distance. His eyes flicker downwards, focusing on the slight part of my lips. Aleksander angles his head downwards, allowing our lips to meet fully. Now that the barrier's been broken, I have no choice but to reciprocate with full force, my hands leaving his chest and finding their way into his hair. Aleksander's hands grab the collar of my kefta. He pulls me towards him sharply, as desperate as I am to eliminate space.

And then he pulls me away. I'm left pouting on instinct, lips slightly swollen and breathing a little uneven. "Easy," he chides, "We can't afford to get distracted."

I wrinkle my nose at him. He started this, pulling me out of the meeting under the ruse of important, private conversation. "And who's the one doing the distracting?"

Aleksander smiles fully. A real grin, the kind of grin that rivals any amount of sun I could ever produce. "You," he breathes, leaning in again and brushing his lips against my cheek, "Considering you won't leave my thoughts."

I let myself grin back, his unexpected softness an arrow that pierces through whatever's left of my composure. "You're awfully sentimental today."

He straightens slightly, expression still light. "Is that a bad thing?"

Squeezing the hand that he's placed on my waist, I beam at him. "Not bad at all--just different."

He's still looking at me with a fierceness that sometimes frightens me due to its wholeness, but something ancient and dark is settled behind his eyes. Something haunting that he won't let me help him with. I haven’t known him that long, but I’ve figured out that his affection is often a secret plea, a silent attempt to rid himself of darkness. What's the point of being able to summon the sun if you cannot banish the darkness that haunts those you care about? I raise his hand to my mouth, kissing each of his knuckles deliberately. He exhales at the contact, some sort of tension coiling in him at the chaste contact. 

I like us better when we’re alone. When he lets things like this slip from him as he tries to let my light in him. I could stay in this corridor forever with him. I could hold him by his hand to make sure he can’t slip away from me. 

Reality does not allow me to coddle my dreams. If I lose focus, he’ll be able to convince me to do anything--to forget my own name even. I drop my gaze to the hand I’m still holding, running my thumb along his knuckles. “We can’t--we can’t stay.” Not the truest sentiment--he can do whatever he wants. “I can’t stay.” The correction leaves me bitter. “Not for long.” The addition only softens the harsh edge of reality slightly. “People are already starting to think you’re extending favoritism towards me.” 

Aleksander lifts the hand I’m holding, taking my hand with him. He turns my hand over before placing a kiss on my palm. The contact is warm and fleeting and I’m powerless against the sentiment it stirs. “And this isn’t favoritism?” 

I roll my eyes, his warm breath is still against my skin. “That depends--am I your favorite?” 

His hold on my hand tightens slightly. “You already know the answer.” I let the corner of my mouth twitch upwards. Aleksander has already offered me more than I expected today, but it’d still be nice to hear him say it. “You, my darling, my sun, will always be my favorite.” 

I beam a little easier, warmth expanding in my chest. Still, the feeling isn’t enough to burn through all of my reluctance. His affection stems from the fact that he believes me to be his salvation. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me. How else could i have won his affections? 

“It’s easy to favor a Sun Summoner,” the response is soft, a bit of forced teasing edging my words. 

His eyebrows draw together as his hold on my hand tightens, turning from a gentle squeeze to a desperate grab. “Sun Summoner or not, no one else has ever held my favor the way you do.” Aleksander leans towards me again, the comforting heat of his breath on my cheek. “And no one ever will.” 

I’m reduced to nothing more than happy neediness, letting him cup my face and pulling me towards him. His lips meet mine with a desperate understanding that’s both bruising and coddling. Aleksander’s teeth graze my bottom lip, testing waters that are unfamiliar between us. I reciprocate, pushing even closer to him. He pushes us backwards, pressing me against the wall as he moves his attention away from my lips and down my jaw, leaving a trail of hot skin wherever his lips brush. 

“Aleksander,” I breathe, placing a hand on his chest, “Meeting--we need to--” 

He pulls away just enough to let me feel his grin, “That can wait.” 

“They’ll think things,” Despite my warning, Aleksander doesn’t pull away, his fingertips brushing against my collar. “They’re waiting,” he sighs against my hair, still careless, “Alina--she’s waiting...” He continues to touch me like I’m an illusion of the light. “And--” He smiles at my waning resolve, attempting to move forward to silence the last of my protests with a kiss. 

I turn my head, suppressing a reluctant laugh at his carelessness. Aleksander is not discouraged, pressing a kiss against my cheek. Shifting my gaze while placing my hand on his chest to make it easier to push him off fo me, I freeze. He must feel my new stiffness, because Aleksander pauses against me.  

Zoya. She’s standing at the entrance of the corridor, watching us--watching me--with such a sharp look of ill-defined displeasure I’m surprised I’m not physically withered by it. Awkwardness and something akin to guilt leave me blind as I try to create space between me and the unbudging General. Does he not see her? 

“Yes?” His voice leaves goosebumps against my skin--not an ounce of shame, but not a drop of that easy-going softness either. He’s General Kirigan again--sharp and incapable of shame or regret. He’s in complete control, all the power in the world is at the fingertips that are still on my skin. 

Zoya’s expression does not waver, eyes still locked on me. “Those in the meeting were beginning to worry, but I see that you’re occupied.” I was wrong. She’s not staring at me, she’s staring through me--like I’m nothing more than a thin curtain on a cloudless day during high noon. “I’ll inform the others.” 

“You’ll inform them of nothing I don’t approve of.” He’s fierce, the threat of venom apparent in each syllable. “And it’d do you well to meet the Sun Summoner’s gaze with a little more respect.” 

I’m quick to grab his forearm, desperate to articulate how much I’d rather him not pick this fight--not when most can barely stand me, not when the more I think of Zoya’s look I realize any bitterness towards me is something else. Not hatred, no--resentment. The kind of resentment that’s only ever a byproduct of something else. If I was bolder, I’d assume it a look of jealousy--maybe not over the man, but the attention and praise received for being nothing more than new and shiny. Her eyebrows knit together as Aleksander’s hold on me adjusts slightly. Okay, maybe the fact that I’m with Aleksander has something to do with it--but it has to be more than that. Her dislike of me, her constant myriad of comments and looks all points to a jealousy much more bitter than that of someone love sick. 

If something in her has been broken over time here, time around Kirigan and his pension for manipulating that I am not blind to and my presence and joy is a reminder of that, than I can bear her hatred. “She was looking at me normally.” Before he can challenge me, I move his hands off of me gently and slip away from between him and the wall. 

I guess that’s what it takes for him to understand that I mean it, Aleksander straightens and takes a step forward. His eyes linger on me as he walks forward. I stay a few steps behind him, a pathetic attempt to cling to any kind of properness I can manage. 

“If I were you, I’d at least comb your hair with your fingers before entering that room again unless you’d like to announce yourself as a form of entertainment.” 

Being a decent person is nauseating sometimes. “And take the fun out of it for you?” 

I don’t wait for her reply, moving down the hall to catch up with Aleksander. Still, when I’m no longer next to Zoya I brush my fingers through my hair in hopes of correcting any damage she’s created. Maybe I should be more worried. Maybe I should care about the opinions of others more. But every reason to stay away from Aleksander entirely feels so small. I’m not naive enough to fall blindly, but the thing about being a Sun Summoner is that you can bring light with you, no matter how dark the path you chose is. 

I watch Aleksander as he places a hand on the door to the room. He offers me one last, genuine smile. His path isn’t as dark as he wants it to seem, and even if it is, I don’t care. 

[angryschnauzer]

Ok imma lil drunk rn but thats besides the point. Incant stop thinking about balconies. Back in my hoe~ing days I used to LOVE BALCONIES. And i cant stop.thinking about getting dicked donw by Henry on a balcony now

Darling, your wish is my command. Sorry this took so long

Room With A View

Summary: Whilst on holiday with Henry in Southern Italy, the sight of you on your hotel room’s balcony is just too much for Henry’s desires.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Biting, Unprotected Sex, Creampie.

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites where all of my stories are posted as well. Masterlist got too big for tumblr so can be found on AO3

Resting your camera on the wall of the balcony, you looked over the gorgeous coastline as the sun was starting to set, the white walls of the town buildings shining bright in the oranges and pinks of the sky. A pollen drunk bee bounced from bloom to bloom on the bougainvillea vine that crept up the side of the building and around the balcony, and you watched as it slowly flew away. The warm breeze caressed the bare skin of your legs, your soft dress billowing in the wind as it moved gently around your thighs.

The sound of the shower shutting off brought your attention back to the present, a small smile forming as you thought to the leisurely day of shopping in the boutiques you’d done with Henry, followed by a rather impromptu game of basketball with some local kids in a courtyard when they’d recognised him and had invited him to show them a few moves. You had happily watched from the sidelines, after all your wedge sandals were hardly made for sports, but you had taken joy in seeing Henry work up a sweat despite his soft linen attire.

Upon your return to your hotel suite Henry had decided to take a shower before you went out for dinner, and as much as you’d have liked to join him, it would have taken you considerably longer to get ready afterwards, plus you wanted to get some shots of the sunset.

The view was stunning, snapping a few shots before glancing back at just the right moment to see Henry emerging from the small bathroom, towel tied dangerously low around his hips, skin still glistening as water droplets hung in his chest hair. You silently gnawed at your lip, squeezing your thighs together to try and stem the arousal that was rapidly growing between them, knowing that if you didn’t get the shots of the sunset at that very moment the sun would have set. You should however have known that they were going to be the last shots of the evening you would take, as seconds later his strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist and you felt his chest against your back;

“What’cha doing?” Henry’s deep voice held a timbre of mischief and before you could answer you felt his teeth nibbling against your bare shoulder. Leaning back against his firm body your ass nestled against his crotch and you could feel the tell-tale twitch that told you dinner plans were going to be later than expected. A deep hum of appreciation resonated through his chest, his hands slowly pulling your dress up as he started to fluidly rut his hardening length against your ass, his lips moving to your other shoulder where his sharp teeth started to playfully bite, the pressure increasing as he progressed.

Henry pulled his hips back just a little so he could lift your dress over your ass, a small whistle escaping his lips;

“You mean to tell me you’ve been walking around in this short dress with just this flimsy excuse for underwear on all day?” he hooked his finger beneath the elastic of your lacy thong, pulling it to the side before that same digit found its way to your lips. Another hum of appreciation rumbled through his chest as he found you wet, seeking out your clit and giving it a few circular strokes before trailing his hand down a little to push that finger into your velvet channel;

“Hmmmn, not quite ready for me yet”

Pulling his hand away he quickly spun you to face him, capturing your mouth for a fierce kiss before lifting you as if you weighed little more than a feather to let you sit on the stone surround of the balcony;

“Henry!” you hissed, knowing what he was planning as he quickly got to his knees. Those blue eyes sparkled like the sea that surrounded the peninsular, except there was far more danger in those eyes than the mediterreanan sea. Clinging to the edge of the stone wall you nibbled on your lip as he parted your legs and pressed soft kisses up your inner thighs, before taking hold of your underwear and with one swift tug snapped it at the gusset. His gaze only left yours as he took in your glistening petals, before the blue mischief was back upon you as his wide tongue swept through your folds. 

There was no way of being silent when Henry ate you out, his tongue was everywhere; wide and juicy, he didn’t hold back with his noises of appreciation at the feel and taste of you. For you your precarious position gave another element of excitement, and as you scrambled for something to anchor yourself on one hand found his still shower damp curls, the other grasped at the metal trellis beside you, the pink bougainvillea flowers resting against your hand as your fingers curled around the metal framework holding it up. The rub of his nose against your clit and the days stubble on your softest of skin helped to bring on your orgasm, his tongue deep within you as you soaked his face with your essence, the pleasure surging through you as he held you tight before pulling away just a little to grin at you. Sliding his hand between your legs he gently pushed two fingers inside you, before pulling them out and lifting them to your mouth;

“Taste how sweet you are”

Holding his wrist you took those fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his digits as you sucked at them. Looking down you saw how his towel had parted where his thighs were wide apart, his fat cock standing hard and proud from between the pristine white of the towel. With his fingers still in your mouth he stood and wriggled his hips just slightly to let the towel fall to the floor. Towering over you he made you feel tiny as you sat on the balcony wall, pulling his fingers from your mouth;

“Good girl. Now turn around and bend over”

There was no arguing or disagreeing, you wanted to do it and followed Henry’s firm command, gasping as he kicked your legs further apart and you felt the blunt tip of his weeping cock slide through your folds before catching on your empty hole. With a grunt he thrust into you, growling as your walls hugged his flesh so tight at the thick insertion parting your insides. 

“Oh fuck” you muttered, breathless as your body struggled to get used to being so full. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, each time felt like the first all over again, your body struggling to take his girth before it finally yielded and you felt pleasure like you’d never felt before.

Henry was a force of nature when he fucked you, the raw power in his body meant you had three orgasm’s for every one of his, your mind as fucked as your pussy would be from the amount of serotonin in your bloodstream where you would end up lust drunk afterwards. As he ploughed into your body you struggled to stifle the sounds of ecstasy bubbling from your lips, before with a grunt he pulled you flush with his chest, one hand wrapped around your ribcage as the other covered your mouth;

“So fucking good, your cunt feels so tight as you cum…” his teeth bit into your neck as his hips worked quickly, the pleasure pain signals hitting your brain drawing another orgasm from you as Henry started to chase his own. His hips slammed into your behind, the sound of flesh upon flesh making it painfully obvious to anyone within earshot what was happening on the shrouded balcony above them as they walked along the footpath below. Screaming into his hand you came again, and with one final thrust Henry pushed deep and you felt him release his thick load deep inside you. 

For the longest moment he just held you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders whilst still nestled deep within you, before he softened and pulled out, turning you in his arms to just hold you tenderly;

“Still want to go out for dinner tonight? Or would you prefer room service”

“Just give me a moment to clean up then we can try that seafood bistro we passed this afternoon”

A few moments later you had emerged from the bathroom having cleaned up best you could, adding a touch of makeup before stepping into the room and grinning at Henry as you shimmied out of the ruined panties and tossed them in the wastebasket in the corner. Grabbing your purse you smiled at Henry and hooked your arm through his as he paused;

“You don’t want to put replacements on?”

“Nope” you grinned at him, knowing the thought of you going commando would drive him insane for the whole meal.

“You wicked woman. We’re gonna need to get a table with a cloth on it so people can’t see my dick getting hard at the thought of your cum soaked pussy bare for me”

With a grin you pulled him out of the door, knowing it would be a quick meal and you’d be back fucking in the room sooner than you expected.

[grapesodatozier]

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

NSFW Alphabet- Joe Toye

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

 Ok, so here’s the 411- Joe gives it his all when y’all are fucking. He’s flipping you around into different positions, he’s gripping whatever part of your body he can get his hands so he can reach deeper faster harder better, Joe is fully prepared to do all the work. 

That being said, the boy’s EXHAUSTED by the time he’s done with you. You’re lucky if he doesn’t collapse on you in a sweaty, sleepy mess. But after he’s had a second to regroup and rally- he’s totally down for some pillow talk. 

WARNING: it’s going to be in that sexy husky voice of his, which means round two is imminent.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 Ok, so our Joe’s hot. Like, really hot. He is fully aware of how good he looks- sometimes to the point of arrogance. If he had to pick just one part of himself, it’d probably be his arms. He likes knowing that he can always fight his way out of a sticky situation, but what he really likes is how your hands feel when they clutch at his biceps while getting sexy. (He also really gets soft when you run your fingers up and down his arms/forearms while sitting around and talking with the guys shh shh shh)

On you? Your hands- this boy never thought of hands being sexy until he watched yours dance across a map while discussing plans of action. His eyes followed their motions like a moth follows a flame- and when they touched HIS HAND for the first time? Boner city. Population: this guy.

 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

MESSY BOY. OH MY GOD.

He’s BIG into marking you, and if you gave him the ok (he always checks first) he’d gladly paint you in it (he gets very caveman when it comes to marking you as his ffs what a horndog). 

But if you aren’t into that? Not a problem. Simply seeing his cum on your hands (which we’ve established he’s super into) is enough for him. Inside of you works too, FYI. He’s very accommodating.

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 He once secretly got off in class while watching you disassemble and reassemble your rifle. Your fingers moved so fast and confidently that he couldn’t help but wonder what ~other~ confident things they could do (his mind instantly pictured you fingering yourself and he’s only a little bit sorry about how depraved he is). He’d kneaded the heel of his hand against his cock under the table and to this day he has no idea how he wasn’t caught.

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced is a good way to describe Joe, bc in cruder company he’d be called a fuckboy. He’s had more partners than the average Joe (lol sorry) but not nearly as many as someone like Tab or Nix or Liebgott have had. He just lived a full-ass life and, due to him being a stud, he’s never been wanting for company.

��F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 Anything with him on top is his comfort zone. He likes feeling in control, and he really likes being able to see how good he’s making you feel. 

Bonus points if he can grip your neck a lil bit.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 Joe is goofy in the sense that he likes to tease you, maybe antagonize you a lil. He knows that you get off on it- that you like when he points out how good he’s making you feel, or lightly chastising you for how quickly you’re going to cum. He doesn’t mean it, and if you were ever to tell him to back off he’d be totally down.

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

 Dark, curly, trimmed but not ~groomed~, you know?

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 Personally, He seeks to establish intimacy during the afterglow, curling around you once the sweat has cooled and your breathing has evened out. Face touches, greedy but sweet kisses? Joe Toye’s your guy.

HOWEVER!: If he thinks you could use some during the act, he’s game. If you ask for it? HE’S WHATEVER MORE THAN BEING GAME IS. Get over here, hot stuff.

 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 He does it whenever he feels the urge. It’s not a huge deal for him. 

He’d prefer sex with you obviously, but if you’re not feeling it or it’s not a good time then he’ll take care of himself. In a perfect world, you could both do some mutual masturbation. He absolutely thinks of you while he does it, tho.

 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 Choking kink. Wow wow wow. Nothing extreme- he doesn’t feel comfortable cutting off your airflow or anything, but a hand around the throat certainly adds a nice primitiveness to the experience. 

If you choke him, however: different story.

Joe finds that EXTREMELY hot. Oh my God. It plays into his weird obsession with your hands/touch. It reminds him that you’re just as into him as he is with you, and he is a big fan of you getting a lil rough with him now and again. 

Pin him down by his throat as you ride him? He’s done for.

 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 Any time, anywhere- as long as he can be sure that you won’t be interrupted. There are exceptions to this (see Risk). 

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

 Little touches from you can really get him going. Lacing your fingers with his as you both ride in a truck from location to location. Your eyes finding his as you talk business with someone else. The gentle scratch of your fingernails through the shorter hairs at the base of his skull. You also get a certain look in your eyes when you’re feeling frisky, and the moment he sees that, sexy with you is all that he can think about.

 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

 Doing anything to you that leaves more than a bruise. Hickeys? Awesome. Speckles of bruises on your hips from where his fingertips dug into your skin a bit too hard? Hot.

Deep shadows around your throat left behind from him holding you a little too hard? NO NO NOPE THAT’S NOT OKAY.

It reminds him too much of violence, of someone trying to escape the touch of another and being denied freedom. Once, a German soldier had tried to choke you out so you wouldn’t alert anyone of his presence and Joe. Fucking. Lost it. His brass knuckles were nearly fused to his skin by the time Joe was done with them.

Tl;dr- deep marks on his girl? He’ll kick someone's ass. He’ll kick my ass. He’ll kick his own ass

 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He’s a fan of both! When he’s going down on you, he’s all about results- what will get you off the quickest and hardest. Overstimulation King (but in a good way).

When you go down on him and make a point to draw the process out as long as you possibly can, he just about cries with need. He’ll beg you to give him more so he can finally cum, but secretly he’s hoping that you’ll keep edging him bc dear god you’re so beautiful and evil and wow your nails scratching down his stomach feels good.

 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 FAST. Like I said before, he’s all for getting you off quick and hard. He likes the feeling of his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he pistons into you with ruthless speed, likes the way it makes your body shake and bounce and sheen with sweat. He really likes being able to just fall asleep with you afterwards, so his goal is to tire out the both of you.

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 Ok, so here’s the thing- before you, most of his sexual history could be considered quickies. He didn’t like the idea of lingering too long after doing the do, so a quick fuck in the closet of a bar was his bread and butter. Remember: the quicker the better.

But since you, he’s decided that he’s good with both quickies and...slowies(?). If he’s feeling frisky while you both are out or just about to go out or in any sort of time crunch, he lets you know by coming up to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, gently pulling you back until you can feel his hardening cock against your backside. 

If you rest one of your hands on his forearm and squeeze it- then you’re not feeling it rn and he backs off (or excuses himself to take care of it bc he’s practical like that). If you lean back into him or turn your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek- it’s go time. Meet him in the bathroom, bc someone’s about to get their world rocked.

 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 JOe is fine with public sex as long as he knows/can predict who or what could possibly figure out what the two of you are doing. And even then, it’s going to be sneaky. You sitting on his lap with his dick in your pussy? Nice. pretending to lean over and whisper something to you while sitting at a booth (but actually fingering you? Dope.

He’ll basically go as far as you let him, but his big thing is not letting the two of you get caught by someone who will hold it over your ehad. Do’t fuck with his girl.

 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 Two and a half rounds- he always starts with getting you off with his hands, thigh, tongue (that’s the half round), then he cranks out the next two fast and unwaveringly. Ideally, the outcome for him is two orgasms for him and three for you. Bonus points if he can wring four out of you, but he’s not going to push it.

 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 Probably didn’t own any of his own, but if you have a vibrator or something he’ll definitely use it on you. Would probably consider letting you use it on him, but only once he’s used it on you a couple times.

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 Not very much in terms of edging teasing, but verbally he can be very antagonistic. 

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

 Loud and proud, but tries to keep the sounds in for as long as he can. You can always tell when he’s close by how vocal he’ll become. Huge whiner whenever you suck his cock or give him a handjob, bc you are so perfect and wicked that it literally overwhelms him.

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 Has at least one copy of the Kama Sutra. Bill gave it to him as a joke gift but Joe absolutely uses it for inspiration.

 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

 Average length but girthy. He’s pretty proud of it. 

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

 Pretty high, but something he can control. He knows it’s unrealistic to be able to fuck you whenever he wants (bc otherwise, you’d never leave his bed), so he’s able to channel that desire into anticipation for the next time he gets the chance to fuck you.

 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 SO FAST, OH MY GOD. But he doesn’t sleep long- it’s more like a power nap and then he wakes up and helps you clean up/cleans you up himself and then gets cuddly. Then he sleeps again. What a nerd.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber​ @tvserie-s-world​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​ @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ 

[wing-ed-thing]

Mob Wife (Kakuzu x Reader, ft. Hidan) Part IV

Synopsis: The Akatsuki are in emergency mode. Kakuzu leads Hidan to the only place he knows for sure is safe to regroup.

Word Count: 

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blackmail, Language, Fem!Reader, HouseWife!Reader, Moll!Reader, Attempt at Humor, Ceremonial Drinking of Sake, Traditional Wedding

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: It’s back. Writing Hidan has got me feeling a certain way rn

It rained on your wedding day: weather fitting for, and not minded by, a criminal and a deserter. As you approached the temple, he tried to tell you many times that you were going to be turned away, but as you spoke to the shrine masters, you were greeted warmly and welcomed. You were young with a warm face that offset Kakuzu’s intimidating exterior. Everyone always loved you right away, a way about you that Kakuzu could never begin to consider replicating. With your open heart, you brought a foreign concept into his world: acceptance. The few priests and priestesses at the temple on the border of the Land of Stone looked upon you kindly, a kindness that you and Kakuzu continued to repay years later. The small village of a few hundred that housed that shrine would never see a shinobi attack. Now, only you continue to repay years later.

You could tell that Kakuzu didn’t like being in the temple in the slightest. He had never been one for religion or structure or ceremonies, so you tried not to laugh the first time you saw him in his montsuki haori hakama. You wondered how much grumbling went into getting Kakuzu in such formal attire with a goofy, lopsided grin. Even as he gazed upon your amused, upturned lips, his infamous temper laid unusually dormant. Kakuzu never thought that he would see his own wedding day. Being the kind of man he was, he never thought that he’d have one. He didn’t think that he deserved it, but for once as you stood in front of him in your shiromuku, all of his jaded thoughts seemed to fade. Of course with you, all doors opened.

Kakuzu knelt next to you at the shrine, ever stoic. He put his hair up before the ceremony and secured it neatly behind his head. You remembered it when it was short. As the priest announced your marriage to the gods, you couldn’t help but glance at Kakuzu out of the corner of your eye. He held himself together better than you imagined he would.

“Well, yes. I am an adult,” he would tell you later.

But at that moment, he received the first sakazuki. The priest's vessel tipped over the small cup two times before pouring. Kakuzu brought the dish up to his lips and took three sips: pointless seeing that neither of you had parents, but traditional nonetheless. You were taught to always honor your ancestors, but you doubted that Kakuzu felt the same. You received your cup and the same sake, taking the same three sips and the ceremony went on. The second sakazuki represented your vow to care for each other. You received a slightly larger cup and once again, you each touched the sake to your lips three times. The third represented fortune and fertility.

The Heavens, the Earth, and the People.

You offered Kakuzu a light smile as you moved to the next part of the ceremony, a gesture to assure him that it was almost over. He would have rolled his eyes in any other setting, but Kakuzu didn’t even have to speak for you to know exactly what he meant. You knew that more than anything, he was happy to be with you. Out of all the things that he had done as a shinobi, he could handle a stuffy ceremony.

“I thought you liked stuffy things,” you teased him later, parts of your robes slung over forearms and shoulders for better mobility as you walked through the gardens. Your hand rested in his as you balanced yourself on some raised, rock ledges. His expression could have easily been mistaken for exasperation as he scoffed, but you knew better. He looked happy. “You’re a shinobi. Now that’s stuffy!”

The priest had you stand and you received a flowering branch to offer to the gods. As you held the sprig in your hand, you glanced at Kakuzu. His eyes met your own and you quietly prayed over your offerings before presenting them together, stem first. You bowed together, the rituals vaguely familiar to you as you performed them.

With the blessings of the gods, you had received your rings. Your thumb ran over the skin of Kakuzu’s hand. They had a familiar gruffness to them and held smooth bumps from old scars. His fingernails were short. You slid the band onto his ring finger. The black suited him. He squeezed the fingers of your other hand. The space behind your eyes stung as you held back tears watching as he placed the ring on your hand.

Neither of you had family, so you thanked the shrine priests and priestesses and enjoyed their hospitality. You took a single picture. It was the same frame that you held in your hands now.

Kakuzu walked out a few hours ago, taking Hidan with him. Your kitchen was, for the most part, wrecked. Your doing. Your tears had since dried up and your trembling was beginning to fade. With a shaky breath, you brought yourself to your feet. You placed the picture face-down on the counter and reached for the broom in the corner. Your heart hurt, but the world continued on. And if the world continued on, so should you.

***

You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t feel hungry, but you stood over the sink anyway biting into whatever you could pull from your fridge. You cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability. Trash piled up in neat bins outside: splintered wood, broken plates, and any other particles of dust that you managed to sweep up. You could handle it later. At least the rest of the kitchen was spotless. You glanced down at the thick wedding band that sat in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, you bit into your bell pepper like an apple. That was the kind of night you were having.

A harsh pounding came from the front door and for a split second you wondered if your husband came back. Ex-husband. You didn’t think so. You kept your eyes on the kitchen window but the pounding continued adamantly. A slight shiver went down the back of your neck. The next farm wasn’t for miles. That was definitely not Kakuzu.

You put down your pepper and rolled out your utensil drawer. Your fingers danced across the kunai strapped to the bottom as you silently hoped that your training hadn’t worn off too horribly. The banging ceased as the doorknob began to rattle. The door swung open and you launched your kunai with immense velocity and precision. It was snatched out of the air.

“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch!”

Hidan stood in the entryway with his hand still held up and wrapped around your weapon. Blood dripped onto your floors as the kunai clattered to the ground. He shook out his palm, now sporting a deep gash. All you could do was stand and blink, wondering why he was there and if Kakuzu was with him. Hidan threw his cloak onto the rack. It slid, hardly staying on as he marched over to you. The door didn’t fit into its frame the same as it did before and there was no sign of Kakuzu.

“Can you patch me up, lady?” He looked around your kitchen for somewhere to sit, but found none. He dripped more onto your floors. You quickly guided his wrist over your sink and looked up at him. Beads of water fell down his face. You didn’t even hear the rain outside.

“What happened?” you asked sternly, your voice cracking a bit with worry. Hidan groaned.

“You fucked up my hand, can you at least fix me? I’m traumatized over here.” You sighed, yanking him forward before turning the running water on over his hand. You held it there for a second as if telling him to keep it there before running off to get your medical kit.

“Hidan, you have to tell me if there is an emergency,” you said as you heaved the box onto the counter from your spare room. You cleaned his palm with soap and disinfectant before applying pressure. While you didn’t have to worry about blood loss with Hidan, you also didn’t want him passing out on your kitchen floor either. That would make one more thing to clean up. “Hidan—” You pulled the gauze extra tight. He didn’t seem to be listening to you. —“Is there an emergency?”

“No, lady, it was just cold as fuck and Kakuzu’s got a stick up his ass that’s worse than usual. But you already know what that’s like.” The atmosphere stood still at the mention of Kakuzu’s name.

You knew that you shouldn’t worry about him. As far as you were concerned, he had just divorced you a few hours ago, and even if he hadn’t, you were certain that he could take care of himself. You apparently didn’t do a great job at masking your worry.

He usually didn’t care about the effect of his words, but as you frowned to yourself, Hidan couldn’t help but consider how sad you looked. He pursed his lips, never one for comforting others. For a split second, he wondered whether or not he should have brought up his partner at all. Two fingers gently bumped the bottom of your chin and you looked up at Hidan.

“Don’t look so down. It doesn’t look good on you.” He hesitated. “He’ll come back.”

You dropped his wrapped hand, not noticing that you’ve been drawing loops around his knuckles with your finger.

“I don’t know. He’s usually pretty certain about things and I can’t dwell on that.” You shook your head, turning the water back on to wash your own hands. “You have to go. I know that you have things to do and my— and Kakuzu won’t like that you’re here.” He pouted as you moved around him. You had blood to clean up.

“But it’s raining…” he pouted, expression falling in your peripheral. “And he’s miserable right now which means I’m miserable. C’mon let me stay, I’m miserable.”

“Hidan.” You turned to him and leaned on the doorway from your kitchen to your small living area. “Your partner doesn’t live here anymore.” You flicked on the entryway light, your bucket in hand. Hidan followed behind you, now taking your spot in the doorframe.

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to leave. You know he’s being stupid, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer out in the rain because Kakuzu’s a crotchety, old bastard.” You sighed, resting on the handle of your mop. You shook your head.

“I’m sure by the time you get to town the two of you can find somewhere to stay.”

A silence overtook the house again, full of raging, but unspoken thoughts. You squeezed out the yarns and tended to the floors. It, at the very least, gave you something to do. Hidan’s blood already dried part way and you scrubbed harder, but not before it was snatched out of your grip. Hidan shoved you over to take your place. The backs of your knees hit the armrest of the modest couch that you almost toppled down onto. He took to scrubbing.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Hidan peered at you with his bright violet irises.

“I’m trying to be nice and ask you about your problems, so you better start chatting before I lose interest.” The mop splashed back into the bucket. “Who else do you get to talk to?” You pursed your lips. You knew that he was biding his time to wait out the rain, but his words weren’t wrong. The hurt still felt fresh and perhaps you were feeling a bit desperate to get it out of your system.

“I’m not sure what happened. I asked, but, well, you know how my… how Kakuzu is.” And you found yourself retelling the entirety of what happened: the argument, the ring, Kakuzu’s misplaced comments about children. You left out the part about the wrecked kitchen. “And then he said something about ‘now letting this happen’ which had to be the last straw for me.”

“Did you want brats?” Hidan had since stopped his cleaning. Surprisingly, he listened intently to your rambling as he propped himself against the wall. You swung your feet back and forth over the side of the couch.

“I never really thought about it before and Kakuzu and I never talked about it, so I don’t know why he brought it up.”

“Because he’s a dumbass who thinks too much. I never know what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. If I had a home to come to like this with a cute little thing in an apron—” Hidan scoffed. —“Fuck the Akatsuki. I wouldn’t be hiding you out here because of some band of losers in capes.” That made you laugh.

“You’re in the Akatsuki,” you giggled and Hidan raised a slender eyebrow.

“So? I’m the best one out of all those guys.”

“The best out of some band of losers?” The corners of Hidan’s lips turned upwards into a brief smile as he rolled his pretty irises.

“Listen, I got my devilish charms going for me which is better than Ragdoll. He looks like a fucking pin cushion.” Your hand came over your mouth as you laughed. Hidan looked down at where you sat, pride swelling in his chest at the prospect of cheering you up. But your face quickly morphed into something sentimental.

“Aw, but he’s a cute pin cushion…” Your bottom lip curled into a pout, but at least you didn’t look quite as sad as before. Hidan leaned a bit forward.

“He’s a little over a hundred-eight centimeters tall and has a big-ass nose.” You let out an amused breath. “I’d hardly consider that ‘cute’.”

“But it’s a cute nose. It’s slender and has that cute little bump in the middle.” Your voice grew quieter. Another silence, the third of Hidan’s visit.

It all felt too confusing for you. Maybe Kakuzu was never that interested in you in the first place. You shook your head then and there, much to Hidan’s confusion. Despite Kakuzu’s attitude towards most everything, you knew that he cared deeply about you. Perhaps he had grown bored. Despite ninja work not being of interest to you, you knew that many found the profession very exciting. You ran many profitable operations in the surrounding area, but more money could be made elsewhere, you knew that much. Your lifespan was nothing compared to Kakuzu’s nearly a century of living. He had done everything in life that he had wanted to do and all you had little to show for your existence.

You kept replaying his words about the time that you had. That you had enough time to do more. But if you really thought about it, you were content living the way you had been. You were happy and for a split second you considered whether or not Kakuzu actually saw himself as worthy of you. You shook your head for the second time. No, if anything, you considered it the other way around. You’d imagine that you would come off as boring and childlike to an immortal.

“That’s a lot of thinking.” Hidan had taken to wandering around the room. You hadn’t noticed. “Fuck thinking. You deserve better than taking care of some place in the middle of nowhere and running numbers on boring-ass shit.” You smiled again to yourself, something else that you didn’t notice.

“I actually like it here,” you mumbled. Hidan yawned.

“Can I stay now?” You deliberated to yourself before grabbing the bucket and the mop away from him. He didn’t do a great job, but you found yourself relatively uncaring at the moment.

“Yes, you can stay,” you sighed. Hidan was already halfway down the hall by the time you finished your sentence.

“Good because I was going to crash here anyway.”

@brokennerdalert @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @krispypotato @meme-queen-1999​

Notes: Reader and Kakuzu had a Shinto wedding if anyone’s interested. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[betweenlands]

zedaph or martyn inthelittlewood!!

both again

zedaph:

First impression: oh yoooo it’s the other guy that was in minecraft toy box alongside simplysarc! i didn’t know he was a hermit, i wonder what he’s up to?

Impression now: SCIENCE GUY OF ALL TIME. severely underrated hermit. i love him a lot and he deserves to go apeshit. incredibly brilliant redstoner

Favorite moment: idk man like all of s8. The Chamber was brilliant

Unpopular opinion: whoooboy. okay. potential Hot Take: i really, really feel like people tend to infantilize him and/or heavily diminish the role he has in team ZIT, to the point where it feels like some people don’t even really care about him as a character compared to impulse and tango? like for some reason there’s been a big uptick in zedaph content that literally could not be further apart from the way zedaph actually works as a person and hm. don’t like that!

Favorite relationship: uh i’ll be honest i don’t have a favorite dynamic of his rn. they’re all roughly equal in my mind. would love to put him in the same room as grian for longer than just a base swap and shake them a little bit. also obviously the dynamic i have wholesale invented between him and sarc Owns, but that’s because i made it up for myself

Favorite headcanon: @autisticlalna‘s alpha-z au, baybee! i really love the added layer of depth that comes with the implications of “zed is a clone of The Original Original Lalna That Worked At Yoglabs” and i think it adds a fun addition to his sciencey thing. it’s just really unique and also it means he can be little a sinister. as a treat

Idea for a story: uhhhhhh idk what if zedaph invented a new weapon called a gun i’d like to write a sequel to stormwatching the sandbox someday! of course, that relies on simplysarc uploading enough for me to squeeze more lore out of him, but. yeah

martyn:

First impression: oh yooo there’s a yog in this grian series? i didn’t know grian knew any yogscast members! i don’t know much about martyn but i’m excited to see where this goes!

Impression now: i rattle him gently and his one mcc coin falls out of his pocket. every time i watch his teams in mcc they do absolutely awfully and the one time i didn’t watch his team, he won. i’m very sorry martyn. also his lore is alright i guess

Favorite moment: i honestly think his double life series through cleo is hilarious in every possible way and it kinda owns

Unpopular opinion: ...yeah i’m still not a fan of the watchers lol. i tend to justify it with “this is some kind of entity pretending to be the watchers” but i just do not vibe with watcher lore. i feel bad because i know his lore isn’t intentionally the exact same as the fanon watchers i have disliked for so long, but it’s way too close coincidentally for me to be comfortable with it

Favorite relationship: just like with 3rd life ren. its renchanting duo. how could it ever be anything else. however also like i’ve mentioned in previous asks i would go absolutely insane over the thematic implications of a true impulse-martyn day one alliance in a traffic game, you would never get me to shut up

Favorite headcanon: anything bridging third life and yogscast i am SUPER down for. i think @strifesolution is the person i’m thinking of who likes drawing explicit parallels between the sacrifice at black heart altar and whatever the hell parvis and strife are doing in blood and chaos? and i think that OWNS.

Idea for a story: ohhh i dunno this is a hard one. maybe something with hopperhawk martyn, like he gets trapped in the breaker world that is trafficseries and then when he busts out he promptly decides he wants to dimension dive into other dangerous realities? yeah. maybe that

[zenith-impact]

i don’t know if you’re still accepting may prompt requests, so if you aren’t, just ignore this!

could i get either memory lane + xiao or albedo + homecoming? i adore your writing btw!! you’re probably my favorite genshin author as of rn. i hope you have a great/day night— oh, and happy anniversary to you and your husband!! 💞

Thank you so much ☆ ～('▽^人) Reading that really made my day!

I went ahead and did both prompts! Albedo's half will be under the cut. Thank you for the request!

The rain drizzles off of the roof of the inn, catching the light from the sun as it slips gently out of the sky. A rainbow curves in the distance, but it too is starting to fade. Some, like the people standing on the balcony below, might call a day such as this beautiful. Others, like the guests curled up by the fire or locked up in their rooms might call it a bother. For Xiao, it was a time to reminisce. A time to think on the centuries he's lived and piece together the small things that keep him going. The voices in his head retreat, leaving only the sound of the water plopping against the wood. His skin is covered in droplets but he ignores them, preferring to stare into the horizon.

Memories were difficult for Xiao. Not because he has a bad memory, but because he doesn’t have very many good ones. Meeting Rex Lapis was a shining beacon in a sea of violence and chaos. Darkness is often the only thing he sees. A haze in which he is disconnected from the pain he suffered in his early years. Other times his memories are crystal clear- something the voices that plague him make sure of. He reflects on all of this, ignoring the rain as it seeps into his skin. He is an adepti. The cold doesn't bother him, nor will it ever.

And yet, as he tries to focus on the karmic debt he holds, he finds his mind drifting back to you. The moments you share are much more recent. They are events that he never thought he'd experience. Memories that he never imagined would be his own. Laughter that makes his heart race. The gentle caress of fingers on his battle hardened skin and scars. The feeling of your hand in his, squeezing as you tell him another story of the life he has become a part of.

Years ago, he almost rejected you. Now, he can't imagine a world without you in his life.

"Xiao?"

He looks down, realizing that the balcony is now empty save for you and the towel in your hand. The rain has ceased as the sun dips below the horizon, giving way to the full moon. You are as captivating as ever, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. "Why are you here?" He says.

You smile. "Because you are."

He huffs as he hops off the rooftop. "And if I wasn't?"

"Then I would have waited for you."

"For how long?"

"As long as it took."

Satisfied, he leans on the railing overlooking the Dihua Marsh. You join him, still smiling. "I can fix that you know."

"Fix what?"

You gesture to him in a dramatic fashion. "All of that."

"Are you implying I need fixing?"

You roll your eyes. "I'd just be drying you off, silly."

"I do not need your help," He says, though his dripping hair betrays him as water slithers down his face.

"Please," you say, holding out the towel. Your Hydro vision glitters, taunting him. "Water is my specialty."

Xiao huffs, crossing his arms. "Do what you will." You were moving before he even finished his sentence, dropping the towel on his head with little fanfare. He glares at you, but you just laugh as you massage his scalp. He feels the water seeping into the towel, drying his hair in record time. You leave it there as you take a step back, drawing a circle in the air with your finger. Water rises off his body and clothes, gathering in a ball in front of him. You reach your hands out, directing the ball to float between them as you draw more in. The dampness on his skin fades. His clothes return to their normal softness. The last of the drops that cling to his mask slip away. You grin, mesmerized by your own handiwork.

Xiao's expression softens as he watches you, committing every detail of this moment to memory. The way your eyes glisten. The way your skin and muscles move with every small flick of your wrist or twist of your arm. The way the clothes fold and stretch with your body. The rising moon that fills the background with silver light and accentuates everything about you. The grin you give him as you make the water disappear. "Come on " you say, looping your arm in his. "Let's get out of the cold." With that, you guide him back to the room that has become your second home. Xiao follows, his heart yearning for you every step of the way.

Of all the memories Xiao has tucked away over the years, he decides that you will always be his favorite.

Albedo liked to think he was good at managing his stress. Experiments often went awry and he was always there to calm everybody down and get it under control. His time on Dragonspine was inherently stressful but he never let it get to him as it was just another experiment but in colder weather. Oftentimes he didn't even acknowledge things that should have been stressful to begin with. He doesn't have the same worries as someone like Sucrose or Timaeus. Albedo simply focuses on the task at hand and gets it all done.

But today was the day you were coming home after nearly two months away, and Albedo felt nothing but sheer anxiety.

"Albedo?" Sucrose said, peering over her notes. At first he said nothing, staring down at his sketchbook without actually seeing anything. He swore he heard his name, but his brain doesn't connect the dots. It wasn't until Sucrose cleared her throat and tried again that he was actually able to listen. "Albedo!"

"Yes?" He said, glancing up at her. His posture was rigid. His hand was tight on the pencil. His eyes felt the urge to dart around the room as the rest of him wished he could pace to relieve some stress. It is an uncomfortable position to be in, and Albedo couldn't help but feel bad as worry flickered across Sucrose's face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Albedo sighs. “They are coming home today.” Sucrose nods, her expression flickering to understanding.

“Why does that worry you?”

“It’s been so long…”

“Two months isn’t very long.” Sucrose puts a finger to her chin in thought. “Actually… this is the first time that they’ve left Mondstadt, isn’t it? Usually its you that has to go on these excursions.”

“That is the most common scenario in our relationship, yes.”

“But they’ve started coming with you,” Sucrose said.

Albedo nodded. “During our last two investigations.”

“But you had work to do for the Knights.”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried they won’t come back?”

He ponders this. He is not worried that you ran away or something like that. Your entire life is in Mondstadt. Not just your relationship with him, but your family, all of your friends, your livelihood… you weren’t the kind of person to abandon everything on a whim. You’d even been slightly nervous about the trip, as it was rare for you to leave the city without him or your family by your side. You were a capable person, yes, and you’d trained for years to defend yourself. Anything life threw at you, Albedo was confident you could handle. So, he said, “No I’m not.”

“Are you worried they don’t love you anymore?”

Albedo froze at that statement, but quickly parsed through it. The two of you had been together for quite some time now, and he had long since gotten over his fear of losing you. He couldn’t think of any glaring holes in your relationship. You had left for this excursion on the best of terms with both of you taking a few days off before the event to enjoy your time together. You had even expressed sincere regret that you could not take him with you. So, once again, he said, “No I’m not.”

“Then what is there to worry about?”

Albedo didn’t know, yet his stress didn’t dissipate. Sucrose seemed to notice this, for she just tilted her head and smiled. “You’re worried about seeing them again.”

“I… don’t follow.”

“It’s been so long,” She said, putting her notes down on the table. “You probably want everything to be perfect.” She sat at the seat next to him, reaching for her own pencil. “You probably imagine them running through the gates of Mondstadt and straight into your waiting arms. Maybe you’re even holding flowers or a nice gift. Maybe you’ve planned the perfect dinner or cleaned the house. Maybe you just want to spend time with them, just the two of you.”

“None of that is inherently stressful.”

“But the idea that things might not be perfect is to you,” She said. “But you know them. They’ll want to return to life as seamlessly as possible. No fanfare. No worries. No problem.” She pointed the end of her pencil at Albedo. “You just want them to know how much you love them.”

Albedo glanced down at his sketchbook where an unfinished drawing of you lay. It was one of his slowest drawings to date as he worked between his experiments, only committing to paper what he was absolutely certain was perfect from his memories. He’d started it the day you left, reflecting on everything that made you, well, you. He’d taken multiple pages just sketching your eyes, your hands, your feet. He’d spent an entire day working on the various ways you might mess with your hair during the excursion and imagined the clothes he knew you took with you. But even now, the day you were meant to come home, his image wasn’t quite done. He needed to see you again. Commit another version of your form to his memory so that the image was as perfect as you were.

“Perfection,” He muttered.

“Don’t worry about that,” Sucrose said. “Just be yourself.”

Albedo turned back to his drawing and got to work, pulling on the images that filled his mind on a daily basis. He drew the gates of Mondstadt, open and inviting. He drew the dandelions floating in the wind outside and the grass just on the edges. In the center, he finished his sketch of you - bright eyed and smiling like you always did. He picked apart every detail down to the laces on your shoes. The more he drew, the more his anxiety slipped away. This was his comfort zone. This was what reminded him of the person he was waiting for.

“Albedo?”

He rose at the sound of your voice, sketchbook in hand as he rushed to meet you, his stress finally forgotten.

[shorkbrian]

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g 

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t.  But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect.  How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed.  The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged  with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same  attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before.  A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words.  There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.

[leviiattacks]

No One Sticks Around | Levi Ackerman

note :: this was a request i just quickly wrote it because i managed to find some free time at 3am GODDD crying so hard rn i’m so upset over chapter 138 like i am in tears over it and school work T___T please i literally cried writing this because 138 made me so upset gn i’m a mess rn but if aot ends the way i think it does then idk maybe it won’t be that bad.

pairing :: captain!levi x cadet!reader genre :: angst, angst, ANGST word count :: 1.2k

warnings :: canon typical violence i guess?? not even really violence honestly but mentions of blood etc

He never understood why everyone had to leave him. Never understood why departure had to be defined as death. Never understood what he had done to be the one to witness each and every casualty caused by this misery but never become one of the bodies in the never ending bloody pile.

Living to be invincible wasn't as great as people made it out to be, neither was being as good as immortal on the battlefield.

Sometimes, Levi would look at his reflection and tell himself he had the urge to drop dead. He then would carry on to tell himself he knew he wouldn't be able to do that. He didn't want that really. All he ever wanted was to escape this cave of bloodshed.

The world was caving in and he couldn't do anything about it. No matter how powerful he was he couldn't. All he could do was watch in horror as he saw everyone else slowly die out.

He promised not to grow attached, there was no reason to grow connections or friendships.

Farlan and Isabel were bitter reminders of that.

That day he learnt death was worse when there was a shared familiarity between souls. Part of him died when he found them drenched in the damp downpour. Their blood soaked into the concrete beneath them.

The day he returned from that expedition he reeked of failure. He scrubbed his skin till it became red and he told himself to get a grip. Never grow attached Levi, no one sticks around. Those words remained stuck in his head .

But, he was stupid and made the same mistake again.

He had to redo the promise he made to himself again when he needed to put Erwin's life on a scale right next to Armin's. Another piece of him passed away when Erwin murmured his thanks. Silently, under his breath he told Levi he was grateful for all that he had done.

Levi didn't think he was grateful for it at all. In denial, he thought it was all a formality, after all, the both of them had been through thick and thin together. Erwin probably thought the least he could do before his death was to offer his thanks, that's how Levi saw it all.

Erwin died in his arms. He felt him sag and remain limp, he sensed his breathing falter and he shed a tear when it proceeded to discontinue.

When he returned from that expedition he scrubbed at his skin till it scratched and itched in irritation. He needed to be clean, needed to feel safe, needed to reassure himself that everything was okay. Everything would be okay if he followed his advice this time. Never grow attached Levi, no one sticks around. From then on those words rang in his head twice as often.

But, he was never able to learn in the past so what happened next served to be no surprise at all.

Present day.

He's only gone and done it again.

He's grown attached.

He knows it's wrong to choose you over Jean, he curses himself when he's fighting through his tears asking himself why he's being irrational and risking his own life for you, the weakest member of the squad physically, you've always been a hindrance when it's come to teaching combat. Somehow you scraped it into the top ten all those years ago because of your intelligence and problem solving skills.

As the years have passed you've also made yourself at home in one of the tiny crevices of Levi's heart.

Levi knows Jean is a greater aid to humanity than you, he knows it, he knows it, he knows it.

But, he can't go through the devastation of loss again.

His body acts before his mind can stop him, he darts to your rescue as Jean watches on in terror wondering why his Captain is acting illogically and picking you over him.

You're trying to look him in the eyes, telling him it's okay he can leave you behind and take Jean instead, "MY TIME IS UP. LOOK AT ME LEVI." Screeching and wailing the Earth is coming down to the ground around you.

He can't make himself look at you, he's not willing to change his mind.

Grunting in pain he stubbornly releases you from the grip the abnormal has on you, you're still screaming as you fall down the drop with him, your ear-splitting cries tell him he's made the wrong choice, but as he zips through the foliage aiming to return back to your base he eases up at the way you howl. It comforts him. He's sick and twisted for letting it have that impact on him, he feels like a monster but you're still alive, that’s all that matters. You'll return alive and he'll be able to shelter you from harm’s way.

"Don't let his death be in vain." He whispers the sentence into the shell of your ear and you freeze, his voice is cracking and you hold onto him tighter. You squeeze him in your suffocating grip and sob into his neck, you've both lost a comrade who shouldn't have died today.

By the time the two of you have reached safety he's still afraid to let you go, he hates himself for falling in love with you because the gap between the two of you can't be bridged. You're bound to die if you don't work on your strength and if you don't pass away before him it'll be because he'll stupidly sacrifice himself for you.

Trembling as he cautiously lets you off his back you ask him the long awaited question, "Why did you pick me over him?" Voice breaking up you attempt to keep your cool and find the reasoning behind the foolish decision he made back in the forest.

Levi turns to you hesitantly, his eyes are glazed over with tears and he doesn't know how to explain his selfish urge to you, in the moment he just knew he had to save you, knew he needed you to keep going.

Then he blurts it out without stopping to think of the repercussions of his words. "I'm not the kind of man to confess."

His hoarse voice tenses midway through, he has to cough in-between the sentence but his words are still able to sink in. They hang in the air and then what he means hits you.

You're worth more than humanity to him.

He loves you.

You nod acknowledging what has been said. "Your actions have told me as much." is all you can manage to choke out.

His eyes flick to your face, he's trying to memorize your features off by heart, he needs to commit them to his memory, he can't afford to forget how you look.

"Dying isn't an option for us." Your voice is soft and fragile.

He takes a hold of your hand and begins to draw circles atop your palm.

Edging closer to him at first you lean in to offer him a hug and tell him everything will be alright. Brushing his hair out of his face and stroking his scalp time passes excruciatingly slow

Gazing at you he Releases a shaky breath and unexpectedly grabs you by the shoulders lunging forward. His lips smash into yours, you give into his hold and the apprehension drifts away. Kissing him back you whimper into his mouth, you’ve never kissed anyone before but it all feels so right with him. His hands fly to the back of your neck tilting you deeper and you oblige. It feels like you’ve lived just to share this moment with him.

For now, he won't have to go back and scrub at his skin till it grows red.

For now, you have him and he has you.

Grow attached Levi, no one sticks around.

[shoichee]

Hey luv! I just got my braces off and I don’t know if I like myself with or without them cause yah girl has ✨confidence issues✨ so can you do the GoM + Kagami and Teppei thanks my savior

OH, rn i have braces too (although they’re ceramic and harder to see) but I definitely can understand the apprehension when you have them taken off after for so long;; 

the amount of characters requested actually exceed the rules, but since i’ve taken a while to get to your request, i’ll still do them but they will be shorter^^ THANK YOU FOR STICKING BY THIS BLOG AND READING MY STUFF <3

[Headcanons]

Kuroko Tetsuya

right away, he notices that something was amiss with you, and asks upfront if anything was bothering you

you replied hesitantly, but while you talked you held up a hand in front of your mouth:

“Um… I don’t know if I like how I look right now…”

Kuroko stares at your nervous eyes and then looks down to your hand in front of your mouth before asking why

“Just got my braces off, and I feel a bit… weird without them? I feel like I look strange without them…”

“Do you mind if I see you?” he asks, softening his eyes at you

“W-Well… you’re not someone to judge, I know, but don’t… laugh or anything.”

“I won’t, (y/n)-san.”

he slowly brings your hand down and you slowly smile to reveal your teeth to him, and he gives you the purest smile… and that catches you off guard so badly like… YOUR TEETH GOT HIM TO SMILE LIKE THAT??? DAMN, MAYBE YOU SHOULD SMILE EVERY SECOND TO SEE SUCH A TREASURE—

“(y/n)-san, I think you look wonderful,” he muses, bringing your same hand that was in front of your mouth into his own hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure everyone who sees you will think the same.”

ah Kuroko, the individual who has a knack in comforting people with his genuity (example: see Momoi)

whenever you do have those moments of self-consciousness again, he’s always there to calmly reassure you otherwise

Kise Ryouta

IMMEDIATELY sees your teeth when you talk, and freaks out like a little kid on Christmas

“(y/n)-cchi! (y/n)-cchi!!” he hoots around, pointing at his own teeth. “You got your braces off today! You look amazing!”

when you hesitate and tell him that you’re not so sure about yourself without your braces, he pinches your cheek and gives a little dramatic huff

“But (y/n)-cchi…! Come onnnn, trust me!” he says, giving a signature pout, and you laugh at his antics

“Ohhh, do that again! Do that again!” (he craves for your laughs, and he wants more)

he definitely tries to get you to smile and laugh to get you more comfortable with your braceless teeth

whether you have braces or not, he doesn’t mind so much because what he really cares about is your smile, and if he sees your teeth showing, braces or without, it means that he knows he’s doing a good job in making you comfortable and happy

while he showers you in praises every single moment, when you feel really down, he takes an extra measure or two to cuddle you gently while being much softer in delivering those compliments

always gives a daily compliment to give you a serotonin boost

Midorima Shintarou

he’s confused… why would you be upset that you got your braces off? you looked great before and even now, so does the fact of braces really change your perception of your appearance that much?

he won’t make any comment on your new appearance unless you bring it up to him and ask for his opinion/reassurance

he’s just happy for you that you have another milestone of your life, and not to mention, braces generally promote better oral health and fix misaligned bites

“Hm? What do I think of how you look? D-Don’t be ridiculous… What am I supposed to say?”

“Well, I just… think I look a little odd… I kind of… want my braces back.”

“You know you can’t do that, nanodayo,” he sighs. “So much money, effort, and care were invested into your teeth for many years. You did the most you could to take care of them and achieved the goal you set out for yourself when you first got braces, correct? That isn’t something to be ashamed of, nanodayo.”

despite his lecturing, his words do have some merit, and Midorima’s words were comforting in his own way

“But Midorima, um… sorry for annoying you,” you say, giving a chagrined smile

Midorima takes a good look at your exposed teeth for the first time and widens his eyes in a fluster before turning his eyes back to his astrology book

“I-I-It’s nothing.”

bonus: he’s definitely that one fussy parent who forces you to wear your retainers religiously, NO EXCUSES—he doesn’t want the whole process to be all for naught just because you got lazy in wearing a simple metal thing

Aomine Daiki

idiot #1

“Whoa, your teeth look different,” is something he would say tactlessly

immediately, you slapped your hands over your mouth at his words

forgive him, he usually says what’s on his mind with no filter and consideration

by then, he’d realized that the tone of his words was poorly delivered and would try to correct himself before he says anything more to dig himself a deeper grave

“Er, sorry, what I mean is… I didn’t know you were gonna have them off today…”

that actually made you more self-conscious and you try to flee from the scene

“W-Wait, hey!”

insert Aomine clumsily explaining that he didn’t mean to be tactless with his words and that he just meant that he was surprised in a good way

definitely shows you a lot more wholesome affection in addition to his usual PDA, but you wonder what he thought about your new “appearance,” so to speak

“What kinda question is that?” he scoffs. “You’re still hot and always will be.”

if there’s one sure benefit to his blunt words, it’s that his straightforwardness can easily dispel all your doubts and clear up any misunderstandings in one go

if you’re still doubtful about yourself, he’ll gladly resort to action to prove his point… perhaps makeout sessions with him would become a lot more exploratory and… just putting it out there, but we will leave this up to your imagination

anywho, he’s not afraid to give you more direct kisses to try to show you that he doesn’t care about your teeth and your lack of braces

definitely would tell out-of-pocket jokes and laugh more to get you to grow comfortable; after all, smiling is contagious right? who can resist Aomine’s smile???

if someone tried to make you uncomfortable by drawing everyone’s attention nearby in how you got your braces off, whether intentional or not, he’s scaring them away, no questions asked and he’s taking you away from the scene

Murasakibara Atsushi

“Oh…” he says with his usual drawl. “You got them off, Chibi-chin?”

it was a usual day with him tucking his own head into his arms to nap on the table when you walked up to him apprehensively, and he immediately notices your presence but lazily picks up his head to look at you when he noticed

“Er… yeah…”

he slightly tilts his head to the side like an inquisitive child to silently question what was wrong

“It’s nothing really! Just feeling tired… not in the talkative mood today.” as you said this, he noticed that you were more… tight-lipped, speaking in a quieter manner as if you were trying not to show your teeth as much as possible

he beckons a languid hand over and you reluctantly sit by his side, your face still slightly turned away

you thought he was just going to go back to sleep like he always does, but imagine your surprise when he easily picks you up from the side and placed you on his lap, face-to-face

Murasakibara then pulls your cheeks apart, revealing your pearly whites to him

“H-H-Hey!! Lert… gorw!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I’m… serwious!”

he stares at you impassively for a few moments before he suddenly lets your cheeks go and yawns

“... you look fine, Chibi-chin,” he mumbles, and he sets you off his lap before getting up with a stretch. “Besides, now that you don’t have braces anymore, you can finally eat whatever you want right…?”

“I… guess I can…”

and he’s already reaching for your hand to tug you to the nearest takeout with a slight shine of excitement in his dark pupils

“Chibi-chin, we can finally eat those candy apples together you’ve always craved for, lots and lots…”

he’s very fixated on you eating with your braceless teeth for the next few weeks with a small smile on his face, because you enjoying the food you eat are some of the simplest joys he loves when he’s with you (and you hadn’t been able to do that because your braces forbidden you from eating a list of things)

definitely drags you out for food outings a lot more for the next few weeks

he tries his best in trying to make you not think about your teeth and your self-consciousness about them in his roundabout way (note: see his cheek pulling, distracting you with your favorite snacks, etc.)

he’s not someone to make any deal out of it because worrying over such a trivial thing is annoying to him, but nonetheless he certainly wants to make sure that nothing is bothering you because that’s the greatest inconvenience (since he doesn’t like to see you in such a state)… you being upset and worried makes him upset and worried, after all

Akashi Seijuro

he immediately understands that feeling of self-doubt/self-consciousness, but nonetheless he compliments you to let you know that he truly finds you desirable/beautiful inside and out

still, words alone sometimes don’t convince you and even when he gives physical affection to comfort you, there’s still that nagging feeling of how you felt about your teeth

and he’s totally okay with that, and he knows that feeling very well himself (regarding having inner voices that taunt him)

rather than constantly hammering in compliments because he knows that at some point they’d feel more disingenuous the more he says them, he offers you to help overcome the self-consciousness on your own terms

Akashi offers the suggestion of wearing face masks (not necessarily the surgical ones, but the cute/plain colored masks you’d see around!) if you have certain days where you feel low about your braceless teeth

he’d be quite sly and teasing all the while; whenever you wear your cute mask for the day, he’d be a lot more affectionate with the PDA and give pecks on your lips… but the mask is always in the way, preventing you from feeling actual contact with his own lips

he can tell you’d definitely get pouty when you don’t really feel those kisses and he simply laughs and walks on

“You…! I know you only try to kiss me when I have the mask on! Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Hm? Is it really a crime for me to show physical affection to the person I love?”

he eventually does help you coax you out and become comfortable, and your face masks would eventually be stored away in a drawer

he rewards you for being strong in overcoming your own doubts:

“To celebrate your strength in overcoming a huge milestone, what would you like your reward to be?”

“For starters, give me back all those kisses you tried to give me throughout all the times I wore a mask!”

“Of course,” he chuckles, moving closer to your lips. “How could I ever resist you when you’re this stunning?”

Kagami Taiga

idiot #2 (see idiot #1)

unlike idiot #1, idiot #2 doesn’t notice the change on your teeth, at all

he doesn’t know why you’re fidgeting around or acting really, really strange… were you hungry? upset at him for something he didn’t realize he did wrong?

so after a few days after you got your braces off, he finally asks:

“Is there something wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

poor guy doesn’t know if he was at fault or if he was missing something, and he physically holds his head to try to recall EVERYTHING for the past week

you reassure him that it wasn’t anything like that, but you still had furrowed brows and you were very careful in how you were talking

Kagami thinks you haven’t eaten and offers to make dinner, but eating in front of him for some reason really didn’t sound like a good idea to you so you declined

you’ll eventually tell him that you just felt a bit self-conscious after your braces got taken off

“Huh?”

he stares at your teeth for a very long time, and you immediately regret it, not wanting to draw his attention to you like that

he snaps out of his intense daze and immediately apologizes for making you uncomfortable

“M-My bad… I just didn’t notice until you told me.”

“Really?” you ask, slightly relieved that the change wasn’t as drastic as you thought it would be

“Er, yeah…” he mumbles, scratching his cheek, “you look good, by the way…” but by the time he finished his compliment, it came out as a cough

you can only laugh in relief, knowing that everything he says is always earnest and sincere

Kiyoshi Teppei

definitely noticed that your braces were off, but pretends to not notice until you bring it up yourself because he’s quite sharp and in tune with other people’s emotions

so he treats you like he always does, being the sweet “airhead” that he is, and he waits until you bring it up yourself (because he knows how self-conscious you were about your lack of braces)

you yourself are confused… like… was Teppei actually dense? was your whole inner dilemma not a big deal like your mind thought it would be?

you tug on his sleeve one day and ask him if he noticed your teeth, pointing to them all the while

and he immediately chastises himself (“silly me”) for not noticing, and he tells you that you were beautiful either way, and whether you had braces or not didn’t change that inherent fact (and that was his “reason” for not noticing to reassure you)

all while giving his easy going chuckles and ruffling your hair

laughs at your shyness at his words, not because it’s funny or anything but he truly finds you adorable

once you get comfortable without giving a second thought about your braces gone, he just drops the truth bomb on you so casually like:

“Ahhhh (y/n)-san,” he sighs in nostalgia. “You were really cute when you were so shy about getting them off, you know that?”

“Now wait a second…”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

“That you’re really cute.”

“No, no, the other part.”

“Whenever you get shy.”

“That is not what I mean and you know that—”

“Aww, you’re being really cute right now, (y/n)-san. Don’t tempt me to carry you around when I just finished with my physical therapy.”