#but no one sane would ask you to be entirely perfect

[lordadmiralfarsight]

Cultural christianity, and what it can look like

I often-ish see people get all upset and angry when cultural christianity is brought up, taking it as an insult. Most likely, they feel insulted because of past trauma related to abusive behaviour in the sect of christianity they were raised in. That, or they have delusions of grandeur about how rational and special and immune to religion they are and how dare people assume their perfect rational minds are affected in any way? (Don't worry, it's OK, I went through that phase too when I was a teen).

First off, I live in France, a country that has historically been rather Christian, Catholic to be exact, and only fairly recently moved towards more secular structures. Yes, a century since the law on secularism is a short time for a nation. Debate is still raging on what form that secularism should take, and talking about that debate would be a whole other post.

I was raised in a rather atheist familly, due in part to religious trauma in both my parents (even if they wouldn't necessarily think of it that way). My interactions with Catholicism have been limited to visiting churches for the art and stained glasses, a baptism I do not remember (due to being a baby at the time) and a handful of funerals. And I am going to supply you with an exemple of cultural christianity : last Saturday, I had a Catholic moment.

This was fairly topical, one could say, as I was going to visit the Mont Saint-Michel (very pretty, breathtaking vistas, strong recommend). I stopped at a supermarket to buy food for the road, and for the visit, one does need energy to climb up and down repeatedly on that rock, and everything costs an arm, a leg and the soul of your firstborn over there (or lots of money, if you're boring). I see a homeless person sitting outside, quietly hoping people give him some money. I walk along, awkward because I don't have money and I'd rather not have to tell someone "sorry, I can't help you, I don't have cash". I think this is bad, and resolve to buy him a sandwich, which I do. I also give him the sandwich, because just buying it on its own really isn't enough, the man can't eat his sandwich if I drive off with it, really defeats the purpose of the act.

Anyway. I sit down in my car, and have idle thoughts about how maybe that'll help me get the job I recently applied to and ... the Catholic Moment begins. Why am I hoping that? What can that realistically do? Did I give that man a sadnwich for selfish, supersititious reasons? Why would I "taint" this act of kindness with that superstition I don't even believe in?

And then the Catholic Moment ends. And I reassert reality. The guy doesn't care what was going on in my head when I bought and gave him a sandwich, he cares that he has a sandwich. He was smiling, thanked me and said it was nice. Who cares what was going on upstairs, I still gave him the damn sandwich. It's still an improvement in his life, however small. And it's OK to have idle thoughts about that kind of small hope, who cares so long as I don't try to force that on other people. And if it motivates other people to help someone, all the better. That act isn't tainted just because I thought the "wrong thoughts". The dude has his sandwich.

And that is cultural Christianity. I am an atheist, mostly by lack of care about spirituality, but still. But I was raised in a society that is still largely Catholic shaped. My parents were raised as Catholics and broke away later. My grandparents were Catholics. Their own parents were too. And looking back, a lot of my ancestors were more on the poor side of things, which made them even more Catholic.

That doesn't make me evil or bad or wrong. That just means my social and cultural software is cross-shaped due to centuries of previous updates being cross-shaped. And removing bits and bobs from it, and adding a few more, isn't going to change that. I just need to keep that in mind, so I can use that software in a way that takes into account people with non-cross-shaped software, and make sure I don't react in ways that hurt them.

The societies and cultures we live in were built over centuries or millenia, and are marked by our ancestors and what they believe in. You can break some walls, put in bigger windows and change the drapes, it's still the same building, and the crosses scratched into the mortar haven't gone away. But those crosses aren't stopping you from being more open, more friendly to other people. They don't stop people with software that isn't cross-shaped to set up their room as they please.

Just because you live in a building with crosses scratched into the mortar and the bricks, just because those crosses have been scratched into your brain by familliarity and repeatedly being seen, it doesn't make you evil, it doesn't make you wrong. It just means you've grown in there, and you may need to keep that in mind, to make sure those crosses scratched into your brain don't end up hurting someone or blinding you to someone's hurt.

Where you come from, where you grew up, doesn't reduce your worth as a human, and it's OK to carry on stuff from there. We all do. It's not a moral failing. All we're saying, is to take a good look at what those bits do to you, how they motivate your actions, and most importantly, when they tell you not to listen to others.

One of these little brain crosses is telling you that you're right, and everyone that thinks otherwise is wrong, because there is only One Truth, but are you sure you want to listen to that little cross? Are you sure you want to listen to the same little cross that caused your friend, parent, trusted adult figure, to hurt you and refuse to listen to you? Isn't it worth a go to listen to people whose software isn't cross-shaped, and try to understand where they come from?

It's not easy, I'm not going to lie. @athingofvikings can tell you, I stumbled a fair few times, in parts because he is litterally the first Jewish person I actually talked to. But he is a friend, a dear one, and I feel blessed to have met him and become his friend. I stumbled, but I keep my mind open to see my mistakes and correct them, and I do what I can to make sure those brain crosses aren't hurting people, and I got several great friends out of the deal. Imagine the friends you can find, if you just accept them as they are and keep the crosses in check?

[yaksha-lover]

Summary: After the events of ghost bride, Vil and Leona decide to continue their competition to determine who is the best suitor. They decide you, being new to the school, are the best option to try and romance.

Multi x GN Reader (Leona, Vil, Ace, Deuce, Floyd, Rook, Azul, Malleus)

Part 2

“Yeah, whatever, you failed too. Doesn’t mean a thing. Any sane person would’ve chosen me over you,” Leona snarks.

“Prove it, then. Let’s choose someone else and we’ll be able to determine who the real winner is,” Vil replies, not bothering to look up from the compact he’s using to apply his makeup.

Leona’s ears perk a little at the idea, but he turns his nose up at it anyway. “Like who? Everyone at this school’s already stepping over each other to get a picture with you. Not exactly a fair competition, blondie.”

“Our dear prefect hasn’t been at the school long, and they’ve never known me as a celebrity since they’re from another world. It seems they would be the fairest way to continue our little competition,” Vil pauses, looking back over at Leona. “If that’s okay with you, your majesty.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “Old bride clearly had no taste. At least the prefect won’t have all these delusional biases about their ‘prince,’” he grumbles. “Fine, they’ll do.”

“Alright, then whoever can get them to accept an invitation to the upcoming semi-formal will be the winner.”

“Deal. Try not to feel too hurt by their rejection, it’s not as though you can compete with a real prince like myself.”

“I’m not worried, you hardly qualify as a prince, lazy second-son that you are. Unless you’re planning to actually try for once? Could it be you have another motivation for wooing the prefect?”

“As if I would go for a pathetic little herbivore like them. I’m in this to prove a point to you, that’s all,” Leona huffs. “You’re the one who suggested them. Projecting, are we?”

Vil smirks at his denial. “My, my, quite the tsundere little kitty you are. I have no reason to deny, I have become quite fond of them recently. Enough to stop you from becoming a perpetual nuisance in their life, at least.”

-

The next day, you sit at your usual lunch table with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, when a certain grumpy lion approaches you.

“Herbivores,” Leona says, narrowing his eyes at the sight of Grim devouring an entire leg of chicken. He turns his gaze to you. “Get up, prefect, I need to talk to you.”

“Kinda busy,” you mumble, mouth full of food.

“Why, hello prefect,” Vil greets, walking over from his table where Rook and Epel watch on. “Ah, let me get that for you.” He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, gently tilting your face when you look up at him and dabbing at the corner of your mouth. “Now you look perfect.” Vil looks up at Leona, saccharine smile ablaze. “Was this man bothering you?”

You ignore his strange behaviour and decide to just continue eating.

Leona glares at him, spotting the rose in Vil’s hand. “Aren’t you about to do the same thing, Schoenheit?”

Vil scoffs, glimpsing the small jewelry box Leona is subtly holding behind his back. “Hardly. I was simply checking in on my dear friend, who seemed distressed by your presence.”

Between Grim looking over at your food every two seconds and the bickering going on above your head, you decide to give in and let him have the rest of yours. “…I think I’m just going to leave.”

The two housewardens are too busy bickering to notice you making your escape, leaving them with the rest of your table.

“I never knew you felt so threatened by me. You really had to resort to sabotaging my attempts?”

“I was not! You just happened to be in the way of my own plans,” Vil dismisses.

Ace finally looks up from his lunch to address the situation. “What’s up with you, housewardens? Why are you hovering around the prefect like that?”

“Stick your nose out of this, freshman. It’s none of your business.”

Vil sighs. “If you must know, I wish to ask the prefect to attend the semi-formal as my date. I came to ask them.”

Ace looks back in forth in surprise between Vil and Leona. “You too, Leona? Huh, never figured you’d be interested in anyone but yourself.”

“Don’t lump me in with him. This is just a competition for me. Neither of us won when trying to charm the ghost, so now I’m going to take my victory over him.”

Ace relaxes a little at his words, turning to the other housewarden. “You’re doing this for a competition, Vil? I know Leona is shameless, but surely you’d never stoop to his level?”

“It’s not just for the competition. I do like the prefect, but now I have the chance to take them to the dance and to show Leona how much more charming I am than him.”

“I mean, I hate to rain on your guys parade but I think it’s a lost cause. The prefect definitely likes me. We’re best friends after all, so they’d probably choose me if I asked.” Ace says nonchalantly, earning him a glare from Deuce. “Not that I’m interested in them! Obviously, I don’t care. But, uh, if it’s a competition, of course I have to win.”

Deuce rolls his eyes: “You’re such an idiot. And wrong. I’m their best friend.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” Vil asks Leona when he starts to walk away.

“To nap. It’s exhausting dealing with you children. Try not to get in my way, next time,” Leona replies, not bothering to turn around as he saunters away.

-

The next time you’re approached by the housewardens is in the hallway after class. You jump in surprise when a hand reaches around your waist to pull you into an empty classroom. The long brown hair that tickles your face gives you a pretty good idea of who the culprit is.

“Prefect,” Leona greets casually , as if he didn’t just basically kidnap you with no explanation.

“What are you doing? Will you let go of me, please,” you sigh.

Leona loosens his grip and turns you around in his arms to face him. He brushes a hand over your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. He’s so close his breath brushes over your neck.” “For me to let go of you?”

“Leona?! I-”

Your response is interrupted by the sound of a bell and the noise of chatting students approaching the classroom you currently occupy. You and Leona fling apart, but there isn’t enough time for you to calm your flustered face before Floyd, just entering the room, is able to see it.

“Shrimpy! What are you doing in here with sea lion?” Floyd takes in your embarrassed expression. “You haven’t been doing anything naughty, have you? And without me?”

“Nothing happened, eel. Let’s go, prefect.”

“Now you’re trying to take shrimpy away after hogging them all to yourself?”

“Sorry, Floyd,” you appease, not wanting to get into another ridiculous situation, “but he’s right. I have a class to get to.”

“Class is boring. I’d much rather be playing with you, but suit yourself. I’ll just have to squeeze you sometime later!”

Leona trails behind you as you walk to your next class, demanding an explanation from him.

“So why did you try and seduce me?”

“Seduce? You’re so perverted. Have you forgotten I’m a prince? I was only trying to-”

His reasoning is interrupted by Crewel’s glare as you silently head into class and take your spot beside Ace, leaving Leona to get a talking to for making you late.

-

“Leona and Vil have both been acting so weird lately, and I don’t know why.”

You miss the side-eye Ace and Deuce give each other as they ‘uh huh’ your venting.

“So,” Ace says, leaning towards you a bit, “Have you heard of the upcoming dance?” He winces when Deuce kicks him from under the table. “It’s kinda stupid, but if you wanted to go-”

“Trappola! Quiet or you’ll have extra work to do after class.”

Crewel seemed to be saving you a lot today.

-

Later, you notice Vil ahead of you, walking by himself through the halls. He drops something on the ground, but walks away before you can call out to him. Picking up his dropped handkerchief, you rush after him, finding yourself in yet another dim, empty classroom.

“Vil?” you call. He turns around, and you hold his lost item out to him. “You dropped this.”

His eyes light up and he smiles when he sees what you’ve brought. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear.” He approaches you, suddenly dropping a kiss on your cheek, making your face heat up. He winks. “Just a little reward for your endless kindness.”

“Uh, it was nothing, really.”

“Nonsense!” Vil leans against the wall, filling your view. “In fact, let me repay you. Do you have some time now?”

Before you can respond, someone flickers the lights on, the brightness now revealing the room was less empty than you assumed. The sound of a violin fills your ears as you spot Rook in the corner of the room, playing beautifully. Epel stands in front of a small table, set with two plates and a vase of roses in the middle. He blushes a little when you spot him, giving you a gentle wave. Both of them wear suits. Epel approaches Vil to remove his school overcoat to put on a more traditional suit jacket.

Still lost in confusion, you let Vil guide you to your seat at the table. He sits down across from you, taking your hands into his. Epel brings out a slice of chocolate cake, setting it between you, before going to sit near Rook.

“Ah, I hope you don’t mind sharing, dear.” He winks again. “You know, I really would like to repay you for your act of kindness.”

“Did you just- have this all set up? In case you dropped something…? It’s really nothing, it took me literally two seconds to return.”

“So humble, it’s one of your many fantastic qualities. I am serious about treating you, though. You know the upcoming dance?” You nod, not liking where this is going. “How about I accompany-”

Before he can finish, the door flies open and Leona struts in. He, seemingly, is not fazed by this set up in the middle of an empty classroom.

He ignores Vil and the others completely, turning to you. “Prefect, we never finished our conversation from earlier,” he grumbles.

“You’re right. Sorry, Vil, but it would be rude to keep him waiting. I better just-”

“Please, I have something important to ask you. Just one moment of you time is all I ask.” Vil places him arm on your shoulder.

“They already made up their mind, Schoenheit. Back off, they wanna come with me.” Leona grabs hold of your hand, trying to tug you out of Vil’s grasp.

Vil does not give in, taking hold of your other hand. “Putting words into their mouth, Kingscholar? They were about to choose me.”

Stuck between the two of them, locked in a glaring contest, you try to pull your arms from both of them.

“Merveilleux!” Rook stops playing his violin, approaching the group of you. “To have two beautiful men trying to make you swoon, c’est le paradis!Would you like me to become a contender for your heart as well?” Rook sweeps his arms around you gently, before Leona pushes him off.

“Fuck off, I don’t need another one of you pomefiore brats swarming around them.”

Rook turns back to you. “He’s quite possessive, are you into that type of man, I wonder? I can be that type too~”

“I’ve gotta go,” you say, taking this chance to run out of the class.

-

You’re asked to sit in on a meeting with the teachers and housewardens, which Vil and Leona decide to use as their last opportunity to win once most of the others have left. Only you, Leona, Vil, and Azul remain, still packing up your things.

“Prefect? I apologize to bother you again, but if I could, I’d still love to ask you-”

Vil is, once again, interrupted before he can finish.

“Prefect,” Leona says, touching your cheek. You turn to face him just in time for him to pull out a jewelry box from his pocket, popping it open in front of you. “I-”

“What the hell? Are you actually proposing to me?!”

“What are you on about?” It’s only then that Leona seems to realize your confusion. “A ring, Ruggie?? I said get something nice, not a ring!”

Ruggie strolls in from around the corner, shrugging. “I’ve never even seen jewelry this expensive before. How would I know what you wanted me to get? I’ll take it if they don’t want it.” He pauses, suddenly remembering something. “Also, did you still want me to bring in the flowers? There’s four hundred roses just sitting in the other room.”

You turn back to Leona incredulously. “Why did you send Ruggie to- Forget it, why have you guys been acting so strange?”

“Leona and Vil made a bet on who could get you to agree to go as their date to the semi-formal. It seems their small, fragile egos were quite bruised from their rejection by the ghost bride,” Azul interjects, finally looking up from his book at the corner of the table.

Vil stares at him. “You truly have no loyalty nor shame.”

“Says you,” you quip.

“Yes, it’s quite pitiful. I heard rumours and used my resources to discover the truth. I thought you deserved to know, prefect.” Azul stands from his chair, approaching where you’re sitting to place a hand on your shoulder. “Now, if you still wanted to attend the event with someone who wasn’t planning on manipulating you into it, I would be happy to offer my services.”

Your narrowed eyes prompts Azul’s swift apology.

“Ah, I see now was not the correct time. I shall make my exit.” He leaves the room along with Ruggie, leaving you three alone.

“What is wrong with both of you? You didn’t learn your lesson with Eliza? It’s messed up to play with a person’s feelings like this, I’m not your little prop.”

“Prefect-” Vil starts, cutting himself off at the look you give him.

You give them each one last glare before walking out the door, barely hiding your laughter.

-

“You’re quite the actor, my dear,” Malleus says, slipping your hand into his own as the two of you walk towards Ramshackle.

“I know,” you laugh, “Did you see their faces? I think that’s the first time in his life Leona’s ever looked guilty. His tail was definitely between his legs.”

“Yes, it was rather unbecoming of him,” Malleus chuckles, before stopping his stride. “Although, you could have simply let them know you already belong to another.”

“True, but it shouldn’t really matter. It’s not as though they’re actually interested. They clearly just think of me as some kind of prize to win in an ego competition. Plus, it’ll certainly make a scene when we walk in to the dance together, won’t it?”

Malleus sighs, pulling you into his arms to drop a kiss on your head, before continuing to walk you home. “You are far too naive, my love. Not to worry, you have me to protect you from those beasts.”

[simphornies]

Artistic desire [Husk x Shy!Reader] Fluff

A/N: This was a request sent by a lovely follower. I'm not particularly good at writing shy characters but I did my best. Hopefully this suits your taste.

Word count: 3.4k (3,481)

Warnings: none unless you count mentions of mommy and daddy issues

You were a bit of a social recluse. Your parents fucked off and died somewhere in one of the seven rings when you were a teenager and since everything is basically free, besides drugs and sex, you just stayed in your parents’ manor. The only person that really checked up on you everyday was Charlie. You crossed paths when you were younger, rode through the emo phase together and now you’re both older.

Before her hotel opened up, she was eager to tell you of all the plans. Every. Single. Plan. Of course, you didn’t mind the chatter through the phone. You enjoyed something that filled up the empty halls in your home. You helped her redesign a bit but after a while, you were in a pit of…the opposite of an art block?

You spent every waking moment, painting and creating art. If you thanked your demon parents for anything, it’d be the part where their powers passed onto you naturally. Your mother was a beautiful muse, perfection in keeping everything aesthetically pleasing. Your father painted his muse at every given moment. You didn’t necessarily hate them per-say but you sure as hell didn’t love them. The moment you kept something out of place, an inch off the center, your mother scrambled to fix it.

She didn’t yell or bother with correcting you, she would just obsess with the finer details. Your father never stepped up for anything other than painting. Hell forbid you switch up his paints and he’d be locked in his room all day. Finishing piece after piece.

You didn’t take after any of their obsessive traits. Instead you embraced the messy lines, the off-centered pieces. You embraced the imperfection and impurities that came with hell itself.

And that is exactly how you ended up in Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel. She convinced you to take your artistic abilities to brighten the place up. With the surprising help of Alastor, you chose compromise on the color palette. The fabrics, the decor, the lights, the curtains, the rugs. It was all your choosing. And when Alastor decided to phase in a bar with Husk included, the odd placement of green itched your brain in a good way.

The bar wasn’t the only thing that got you going. A surge of inspiration waved through your entire being the moment you saw him. The moment you heard his voice you wanted to capture it in art. There wasn’t a passing day where you didn’t sit at his bar, eagerly waiting for his next story.

At first, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you considering how well you got along with Alastor. But that opinion quickly faded the more you hung around him. Every time he’d tell a story, he noticed you always doodling in delight, listening to every detail. You didn’t participate in conversations much but he could tell you were listening to the whole thing. Your legitimate interest in his stories warmed his heart a little bit more than he’d ever admit. He soon realized that you two were probably the most sane demons in the entirety of the hotel.

“The usual?” He asks. You nod and continue to fill your sketchbook with drawings, the act visible to him by the way your eyes shine. He poured three glasses for you both. One glass of whiskey for him, a glass of champagne for you, and one of your old paint cups with water. He handed you your drink in a champagne glass and your cup next to your sketchbook. Last time he handed that to you, you accidentally drank the paint water.

You quietly thank him as you gleefully kick your feet in the empty space under you. The chairs hoisted you up enough for you to not touch the floor when you sat, something he found admirable. He hummed as he cleans a couple of glasses left over from when Angel was drinking.

Oh how he wished to take a peek at your drawings. He would never try to ask, he learned from one of your small conversations together that you said it’s like a diary. And he’d be damned if he pried into that. The only time he’ll ever get any information from people is when they’re absolutely fucked up wasted. He watched as your face was unbelievably close to the book, the sound of your pencil against the paper was soothing to him. Oddly enough, it was never complete without it.

“Hey, Y/N? Could you do me a big big big favor? Pretty please?” Charlie speaks up, breaking the silence between you two. He sighs and starts to stock up his shelves knowing that you were probably going to get hoisted away now. He feels the weird shift in his chest that made him realize he was actually in love with you this whole time.

“Yes, Charlie?” You looked up at her as you put your pencil down. “What can I do to help?” Your voice was smooth jazz to his ears. He wanted to hear you speak more. And he hated when other demons talked to him. But your voice. He’d fight in a war with the exorcists to hear you speak to him more. He secretly wished you said his name instead.

She gives you a guilty grin, “So, I was trying to make a sign for Sir Pentious and well…”

“It looks a little bit like vomit!” Nifty chimed in, unashamed.

Charlie laughed nervously, “I may have chosen the wrong green…Would you mind, helping me out?”

You smile, “Of course.” You get up, following Charlie and Vaggie to the opposite side of the lobby to give aid in their color struggles.

Nifty continued her cleaning and while she did, she realized that you had left your sketchbook wide open. Of course, as it is in Nifty’s nature, she snatches the book off of the bar’s countertop, just out of Husk’s view and takes a look at the page it was open to. She gasps and runs over to Angel and Alastor, eager to show her finds.

“My my. What a wonderful find you’ve got there, Nifty.” Alastor grins. He was not much of a lover but he sure as hell enjoyed seeing his little pet get flustered. And perhaps he’s been more tolerant lately so he figured he can have a bit of happiness in this hotel.

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Angel stares at the sketches you have of Husk. The two pages were filled with him and just him. Him cleaning the glasses, him fixing his hate, him with his wings out. Some were obvious direct sketches from his day-to-day life but the others were all from your mind. There was one of him in a fancy suit. One with his hair slicked back the way he briefly mentioned it during his stories of being an overlord. Angel stares at the page a bit longer before looking over at Alastor who shared his mischievous grin.

While you were painting the sign with Vaggie, Charlie is pulled to the side by Alastor. “Charlie, my dear. You would say that you are a lover girl at heart, would you not?” He asks.

“Uhm. Yes. Yes I am, Alastor.” She answers with confusion in her voice, “Why?”

“Why, Nifty had some groundbreaking finds just a moment ago that I believe I should be sharing with you.” He smiles widely as Angel hands her the open sketchbook.

“Somebody,” he whispers, “Got a little thing for Whiskers~”

Charlie takes one long look at the page and was about to start squealing in delight until Alastor puts a finger up to her lips. “Ah ah, my dear. Now’s not the time for that. Wouldn’t it be best that you talk about this with her in private.” He suggested.

“You’re right! Ohhhh my gosh! This is amazing!” She grins, “I’ve known her in all my years here in hell and I have not seen her take a liking to anybody. I’ll definitely talk about it with her!”

-----------------

The sign for Sir Pentious was up in congratulations for his arrival and his development. Everyone was cheering him on by the bar. You scout around for your sketchbook, swearing you left it by Husk. He wouldn’t be the type of guy to take personal things like that.

Just as you were about to ask him where it was, Charlie quickly drags you into a spare room, filled with excitement. Excitement that drove you a bit nervous.

“Charlie? Is there anything you need me to do here?” You ask, scanning the empty room around you.

She simply could not contain her excitement. “It’s come to my attention that you, my lovely lovely friend, may have a teeny tiny crush on someone.”

Oh fuck.

“Haaaa. What?” You ask, trying to contain your composure. “I don’t like anybody. That’s funny. Hah hahhh…” You nervously laughed.

Just then, Charlie hands you your sketchbook. “Nifty found it and well…you left it open to your most recent sketches…of Husk!” She squeals.

Your face turns a bright red as you swiped the sketchbook out of her hands. “Charlie! Oh fuck, please don’t tell me you told him.” You were every shade of red possible in hell out of sheer embarrassment.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t take that adorable opportunity away from you and him!” She hugs her shorter friend, “So. Tell me all about it! When did it start? When did you know?” She gasps in excitement as she thought of more questions to bombard you with, “Why? How did you find out? What do you like most about him?”

“W-well I…” You stutter, hugging your sketchbook close, “I’m not sure when but I just know that, these last couple of weeks he’s been…um…you know. Kind of inspiration? My…muse. If you will.”

Charlie loved your answers and continued to ask more questions. “So when are you going to tell him?” She gasps, “Oh my gosh—You guys should totally go on a date!”

“A DATE?” You choke, “Fucking hell—Charlie. I cannot bring myself to do that. You’re the only person I can talk to without stuttering too much and you want me to go on a date with the very demon I like?”

The answer was yes and before you know it, you and Husk are getting pushed out of the hotel with a pile of cash in both of your guys’ hands, courtesy of Charlie. She somehow got you both into matching outfits. A dress with hearts on the collar with a white and red pearly necklace to match. Husk was somehow, probably by Alastor, shoved into his overlord suit and tie.

“You motherfuckers better not fuck up my bar! I worked all day to keep shit organized!” He yelled at the closed door, “I’m talking about you, Angel Dust!” He scoffed and fixed his sleeves.

You couldn’t bear to look dead at him. You safely got peeks from your peripheral. On one of your attempts, the two of you made eye contact for a brief second. You immediately looked away, muttering an apology under your breath.

“Are you gonna stand there staring at nothing or are we going?” He elbowed you gently.

“Oh! U-Uh. I’m not quite sure…where we have to go.” You admitted.

He rolls his eyes, “Thrown into battle blind, huh?” He chuckled before moving in front of you, “Take my hand. Can’t have other demons fucking with our artist.”

You look at him, memorizing the way his grin sat on his face. A light blush forms across your cheeks as you take his hand. He walks with you down the city and into the nearest fancy club in your area.

“Ah. I think this is gonna be a little…”

“You scared?” He grins, “You’ll be fine. You’re with me. I’ll fuck shit up if I need to.” He flashed you his playing cards, edges as sharp as can be.

You sigh and nod, walking in with him. He sat you down at a quieter side, as quiet as a famous club can be. You both share a bottle of whiskey, your sudden interest shocking him.

“You know, that art thing you do is mesmerizing.” Why did he have to bring that up now? You internally groaned. “It’s like magic whenever you put whatever’s in that brain on paper.” He stirs his drink with a claw, looking at you. You swear you see a bit of sparkle in his usual dull eyes.

“Th-thanks, Husk.” You stutter. The way his name came out of you warmed him up more than his drink. He wanted you to say it again so badly. "I’ve seen you do magic too y’know.” As much as he paid attention to your work, so did you. You have endless sketches of him playing with cards, fucking around with Angel’s hand with a smooth move so quick one could barely catch it without attentive eyes.

“Ohhh,” He leans in a bit, a teasing grin plastered on his face, “So you watch me that close, huh?”

You choke on your drink, spitting a bit out, “Wh-what! No.”

He chuckles a bit, leaning back, “Cut the act, Y/N.” He closed his eyes, putting his glass up to his lips, “Alastor told me already. And Nifty. And Angel. And Charlie, you know she can’t keep a secret well.”

You were a mess. They told him and they didn’t tell you that they told him? You’re definitely messing with their rooms later. But how much did they tell him? You can’t pinpoint it. “I-” You coughed, trying to clear up your throat from your near death experience via literal drowning in alcohol. “I can’t help that you’re just…nice to draw.”

You turn away, a bit ashamed and definitely flustered. He was quiet, watching you intently as he sipped on his drink. “I like drawing anything I like.”

Now it was his turn to choke a bit but you didn’t catch it. He wiped his mouth, “So you like me then, right?”

You turn to face him not expecting his face to be so close to yours. A little shift and you two would fall into a kiss. You weren’t able to read his face well. He had a blank expression. You stare at him, face red.

“It’s okay, fucker. You know how it is,” He elbows you, laughing a bit before grabbing your hand to drag you out of the club. “I’m the bartender that knows everything about everybody.”

He rarely used his wings, unwilling to accept his demon form. But tonight, he stretched his wings out. “What’re you-”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He looks at you over his shoulder, holding your hand a little tighter. You nod in response.

Without a second thought, he pulled you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You blinked and you were off the ground, soaring through the air. He held you close, careful to not let you fall.

“I want you to see something. Something I doubt anyone’s ever shown you.” He keeps his head up, unaware of how starstruck you’re looking at him. You were also too scared to look anywhere else.

He flies as high as he can, stopping at a certain point before holding you in his arms in a bridal style way. “Look around, Y/N. Take it all in.” He speaks softly. You look around and from where you guys are, you can see the entire Pentagram City. Your eyes are filled with a breathtaking view of the city you grew up in. He smiles at the sight of your interest, “As much as I fucking hate this place. It’s not bad when you can’t hear the chaos going on down there from up here.”

“It’s beautiful. I…I have to paint this.” You state, wishing you had your book with you. You rest your head on his chest. After a while you feel him fly towards a high point at the edge of the city, landing on a mountain. He doesn’t let you down as soon he lands though, he didn’t want to ruin your adoring looks at the view.

Your face is lit up with admiration, you feel at peace. It was quiet but a soothing kind of quiet. Your ears caught onto a different sound while you rested on his chest. Is he purring?

You look up at him, “Thanks for the ride, Husk.” Smiling warmly, you cupped his face in your hand. You swear you felt him lean into it. He puts you down gently before putting his hand over yours, returning your warm smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

He purrs softly, the vibrations reverberating on your hand. He nods. “Is it okay I…pet you a bit. You’re just so fluffy.” He went from looking at you with his eyes half shut to wide open, in disbelief. “I-It’s for my art! My drawings.” You laugh nervously, “You know…reference…” It was half a lie, which he is aware of, you actually do want to capture his soft looking fur in your drawings but wanted to know exactly how dense or fluffy it is.

He laughs, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground with you following after him, “You’re lucky I like you, Y/N. Go for it.”

He hated when people treated him like a cat but for you, he’d make an exception. He’d make multiple exceptions for you. You begin to stroke the top of his head, making sure you remember how it feels in your palms in case you never get the chance to do this again. His purring grew louder as he leaned into your touch.

You began to pet his cheeks, getting a closer look at his face, taking in every detail. From his heart shaped nose, to the way his eyebrows fluffed out of his face. He slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you. You were too mesmerized by how unbearably handsome he is to see him inching closer.

He grabs your hand on his cheek, “I could kiss you right now.” He could what? Before you got a chance to react he pulled you into him, his lips crashing on yours. You yelp before giving in and melting into him. The kiss didn’t last too long but it felt like hours.

You stared at him as longingly as you did dumbfounded. “Look, babe, I notice everything about you. Everything you do.” He holds your head in his hands. “I see the way you light up when Charlie brings you paintings. How you paint with that focused look. You’re one of, if not, the only demon with sense in that hotel and respect my boundaries. You’ve never pushed my buttons once. And I truly, truly appreciate it.”

You lean into his hold, holding his face in return, “I understand you a lot more than you think, Husk. I know it’s silly but I find comfort in you. I love the way your voice sounds. I love watching your magic tricks. I love the way you effortlessly make a drink without even looking. And I love the way you fight. You fill me with so much artistic desire and you get me out of the toughest art blocks out there.”

“And you help me stay calm when everybody gets on my nerves. I’ll take a fight on for you any day, babe.” He rests his forehead on yours, “Who would’ve thought my cold little heart could be warmed up in hell of all places, huh?”

He shifts and rests his head on your lap as you continue to pet him, humming softly as you did.

"And who would've thought I'd be able to get the grumpy bartender to purr in my lap?"

You two enjoyed the rest of your night together. He actually stole a bottle for you two and you both drank the night away.

.

.

.

“You think Y/N’s ruffling his feathers? If you know what I mean.” Angel laughs followed by a quick slap on the back by Vaggie. “Ow! It was just a joke. God, tits.”

“Oh I believe Husk is having a wonderful night.” Alastor grins, aware of what the soul he owns has done, “And might I say, he is quite the charmer. Truly a hidden gem. Under all that gruff he is but a little kitten.” He hummed, teleporting away into his tower.

Charlie was so excited and had set up a congratulations sign on the wall for when you two return. She was happy her dear friend finally found comfort in somebody.

[myfictionaldreams]

request: nyx x female reader where they’re matted but don’t know it and reader visits him at the illyrian camps and she gets hurt and nyx loses it

Don't Touch // Nyx (ACoTaR) x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even thank you enough, anon, for this request! I've been desperate to write something like this (especially including my sweet love Nyx; I have an entire headcanon/long-form story of him already, oops). Thank you for requesting! To you or anything else, please request more SJM fics, I am adoring writing them.

Warning: there is a description of visibly seeing the colour of bruising on the skin. Also, intense emotions and responses to situations due to the mating bond.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, minor injuries, possessive behaviour/sex, obsessive behaviour, over-the-top reaction (or just right depends how you like your partners), threats of violence, aggression, rough sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, size kink, intense emotions/sex, sex until passing out :)

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"I've never seen you like this before, Mor" You observe your friend closely as the beautiful blonde woman checks her reflection in the glass of a passing shop.

Morrigan paused, where she was currently trying to perfect her already stunning hair. Trying not to baulk from the intense, fiery stare that turned your way as she raised a single well-groomed eyebrow and attempted to sound as unconcerned as possible, "I don't know what you're referring to. I'm acting completely and utterly sane".

Linking an arm with your friend, you both continued to walk as you sarcastically agreed, "Oh yes, of course. Except that was the tenth time you've stopped to stare at your reflection and tried to fix your already pristine hair, Morrigan".

Mor rolled her brown eyes playfully, moving closer as a brisk wind brushed over the two of you. "You already know I'm vain; why is it such an issue if I want to stare at myself?" she asked, leading in the direction the two of you were walking.

"I didn't say there was an issue. I'm just pointing out that we're heading towards a certain someone's shop, and she's going to love how you look no matter what". Mor hid her face for once, but you could still see the rosy colour deepening in her cheeks.

She quickly recovered by lifting her head and flicking the blonde strands behind her shoulders. "You're one to talk. I've seen you searching over your shoulder 50 times now. Wouldn't it be because of a certain family member of mine, would it?"

There was no hiding the grin that spread across your face as your pulse quickened ever so slightly. "Nyx doesn't even know that I'm in Windhaven. I might not even see him; I'm not here for him."

"Who says I was talking about Nyx? I'm pretty sure Feyre and Rhys are here too", she laughs as you shove your shoulder into hers playfully. As you both calm down, Mor's expression turns more serious. She glances at you, "I'm surprised he hasn't sensed you're here yet. I also don't necessarily think he'll welcome you with open arms; he's attempted to shield you from this side of his life. As hard as we are trying to change the cultures and traditions of the Illyrians, most of them are still unpleasant to be around, especially if you happen to be a female, wings or not."

"You didn't have to bring me here, you know".

"Yes, well, don't make me regret it. Stay nice and close to me, and anyway", Mor paused as she paused outside Emeries shop. "I needed an excuse to come here", she admitted with as much sheepishness as Morrigan would ever allow another person to see.

You couldn't help but grin as you squealed, "Ha! I knew it!"

The bell dinged above the shop door as you followed the blonde through the door. The answer, welcomed by Emerie by the counter, "There you both are! Welcome to Windhaven, stay away from the males, and please have a lovely time", she beams, walking around the counter towards Mor.

Glancing around to give both women a private moment, you admired her shop and eyed some of the winter clothing that would be perfect for the cold weather approaching Velaris in a few months. As you ran your fingers over the lining of a beautiful coat and casually suggested over your shoulder, "If you want, I can watch the shop if you two happen to find your way upstairs. Didn't you say you have some new socks in the back room?"

"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder!" Emerie played with your antics and took Mor's hand, dragging her into the back. Smiling at seeing their happiness, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the man whom you'd been searching for from the second of landing in Windhaven.

You and Nyx had been friends since childhood. You'd spotted a young boy flying over the Sidra, mesmerised by the freeness of his movements, not watching where you were walking, tripped and scratched your knee on the pavement. Having watched it all from the sky, Nyx landed beside you and helped you home. He hadn't laughed like the other children; he'd shown compassion and kindness.

The son of the High Lord and Lady quickly became one of your closest friends, spending every waking hour possible together when you weren't in lessons or he was in training. Along the way, lines became blurred, and you were infatuated with one another. The relationship was intense, to say the least, and the two of you often joked about being mates, but no sign of the bond had occurred yet.

Not that this mattered to you. You were thoroughly and obsessively in love with Nyx, and he was with you. In fact, his obsession and possessive behaviour were renowned throughout Velaris. Every occupant knew that you were Nyx's; if a single hair on your head was out of place, he would bring all of the power of the Night Court down on them. It was extreme at first, but in truth, you were not much of a fighter, so being able to walk around Velaris with the reputation of belonging to Nyx was a relief.

Now, however, it had been weeks since you saw him as he'd been training with the other Illyrians, and even though he used his daemati skills to talk mind to mind with you or he left intimate little notes throughout your home, it couldn't ease the ache in your chest. So when Mor mentioned visiting Emerie's shop in Windhaven, you jumped at the opportunity to see, hoping you'd run into him, even if he didn't want you near the camps.

Lost in your thoughts of black hair and vibrant blue eyes, you'd not noticed that someone had entered the shop until a male growled from behind you, "Where is she?"

Jumping and turning on the spot, you looked the Illyrian over from the golden-brown skin covered in the darkest black tattoos that stretched up his neck and over the sides of his shaved head, leaving a tuft of hair down the centre. His membranous wings were widely spread as he stood in a defensive stance, fists tightly clenched at his side and armour creased from lack of care.

"Who?" you asked innocently, facing him fully and trying not to let his anger intimidate you even though you could already smell the sourness of your anxiety and fear in the air. The stranger walks forward, the tips of his wings knocking into a collection of hats, all toppled to the floor. "Watch where you're walking!"

The male stops a step away, tilting his head and frowning with even more vigour, "What did you just say to me?" As he took another step forward, you matched his step with one backwards until you were pressed against the wall with him towering over you.

"Just - Just watch it, ok? You're knocking over the display" You pointed to the knocked-over items, but he didn't take his eyes off of you, searching over your body until your skin crawled with discomfort.

"Wherever that thief is, give her this", he shoves the letter that had been screwed up in his meaty hands into your chest. You gasp out loud at the pain that rips through your shoulder, knowing it is going to bruise, and you have to look away to hide the tears that had formed as you grasp the letter and watch him leave.

It was only as the bell rang as the male exited that Emerie and Mor rushed into the room with a dagger in hand as they rushed to your side. If it wasn't for the shock and pain in your shoulder, you would have commented and jested how they both looked flustered with dishevelled hair and swollen lips, but this was the last thing on your mind now.

"Who was just here? Why do you smell of fear?" Mor asked as she rested a hand on your arm, looking at you furiously with concern.

"I don't know his name, but he gave me this for you, Emerie." You held out the letter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as she accepted it with a roll of her eyes.

"His name is Prumlos. He works closely with my uncle, and they believe they have rights to my shop. No matter how often I tell them, they keep coming back. Unlucky for me, he trains here in Windhaven and often brings new threatening letters from my extended family. He's a really brute", she pauses as she eyes you closely, "are you ok? Did he harm you in any way?"

Swallowing the thick lump formed in your throat, you attempt to compose yourself, not wishing to seem weak in front of these two strong females. Maybe you'd been sheltered too much throughout your life, but you didn't want to be emotionally broken just because one arrogant male was rude to you, even if your shoulder throbbed terribly.

"He just gave me the letter", you managed to spit out, not looking either female in the eye.

"Bullshit. I can still smell your fear; what did he do?" Mor demanded, stepping closer.

"Nothing! I mean, he was just an arrogant male and just wanted to scare me. I'm fine, really. But could we go, please? Sorry, I know we've only just arrived. Maybe I can wait for you in the High Lord's mother's home, Mor? I just need to be shown the way". You held your breath, waiting for Mor to answer, hoping she didn't try to question you further, but thankfully, she agreed.

"I'm sorry you've been shaken up; I hope it hasn't deterred you from coming to visit me every so often," Emerie smiled gently while holding your hand.

Thanking her, you and Mor left the store and began walking down the street. "Are you sure you're ok? I can see you're still shaken up; talk to me, Little star", Mor asks a couple of silent minutes later and hearing the nickname the inner circle had named you from a child finally brought a smile to your face.

But then Mor tried to link her arm through yours, and you couldn't help but flinch as the movement caused the pain in your shoulder to worsen. Mor noticed and stopped abruptly, turning you towards her, "He did hurt you, didn't he? Tell me so I can go and deal with him".

"No! Please, Mor, can we just go? You know I hate violence".

"Do you want me to go and find Nyx?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"No!" you say urgently, looking up at her with wide eyes, "Please don't, you know how he'd react. I just want to go to Rhys' mother's home and forget about the day. I'll speak to Nyx another time".

With great reluctance, Mor nods, and the two of you continue the walk back to the home. Once inside and next to the fire, you could finally stop and relax, especially as Mor offered you a hefty glass of wine to help your nerves.

After half an hour of sipping away at the absurdly expensive win, shoes off and feet tucked beneath you, Mor suddenly sat up further in her seat with a smile, informing you, "You're about to be a very happy female".

You're confused by her statement, but then you feel it: the connection in your heart is strengthening, like the missing piece to you was suddenly warming and filling in. The front door opened, and Feyre and Rhys walked in first, followed by Cassian and Nyx.

You're half aware of Cassian's joyful greeting: "Ah, Little star! You've finally come to join the camps. We'll have you trained in no time".

You stand quickly, eyes only on Nyx as he stands in the doorway, not breathing as he stares only at you. One second, you're near the table, and the next, you're running full speed towards him, sliding across the wooden floor with your socks, not that you care as you're suddenly in his arms.

The pain had diminished the second you were reunited with him. All you cared about was breathing him in, the relaxing scents of spice and lavender, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around your waist, keeping you up off of your feet that had tucked around his hips. Your fingers clenched into curling hair at the nape of his neck, not caring that it was sweaty from where he'd been training. He could be covered in mud, and you would have jumped into his arms with as much enthusiasm.

The others in the room pretended to look busy as he continued to hold you, his face moving into the nape of his neck, and he took a deep breath, breathing in your scents. Nyx's voice was like dark silk, wrapping around you entirely as he said, "I knew you were here. I mean, I thought I was losing my mind; an hour ago, the tightness in my chest eased".

You couldn't help but giggle, kissing his cheek, "That was me; I arrived about an hour ago". Pulling back in his arms, the back of your fingers caressed against his cheek, admiring the light stubble that had grown since you'd last seen him. "I like this", you admire.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his thumbs stroking circles from where he still held up your body.

"I came to see my best friend, of course", you claimed, watching his handsome features as his smile grew to a grin, the dimple in his cheek deepening beneath your thumb. "Yes, I came to see my best friend Emerie", you joked as Nyx rolled his crystal blue eyes before moving his face back to nuzzle against your jaw.

"I've missed you", he mumbles, not caring that you both had an audience and your heart clenched tighter at the need in his voice.

"I've missed you too, more than you could ever know".

"If you two aren't mates, I'll eat my trousers", Cassian quips sarcastically over the rim of his glass of wine. Mor slaps his arm for interrupting as you're lowered back to the floor by Nyx, but you still lean on the tip of your toes, pushing your chest against his to remain close.

Admiring the passionate way Nyx is searching your face, you turn to grin as Cass is over your shoulder when the sudden deathly shift in the air has you freezing. The faelights casting a golden glow across the house dimmed as the room became cold, the fire extinguishing in a single breath.

Your head spins as you turn back to Nyx, who is staring at the opening of your shirt beneath your neck.

"What's that mark?" Nyx asked, his voice a terrifying tone you'd only heard on a handful of occasions. Instinctively, you were stepping back, but his gentle hand grabbed yours, keeping you close. You can sense his family moving closer, and Nyx doesn't wait for you to answer his question. He carefully releases your hand and pushes aside the material of your blouse until your shoulder is exposed.

Glancing down, you could see now that where Prumlos had shoved the letter into your shoulder earlier had now formed a deep purple bruise. Nyx leans forward, sniffs your skin, and his spine instantly stiffens.

"Who did that to you?" he asks, voice thick with venom and anger.

You're unable to give him an answer as Mor is suddenly by your side, holding open your shirt to stare at the injury as she gasps, "I asked if he hurt you!"

"He?!" Nyx growls, looking between Mor and you.

Attempting to take a step away from both of them, you try and calm the energy, sensing it is escalating to a level that could not be returned from. It wasn't that Nyx was scaring you; it was quite the opposite, as his protection made you feel safe; you were just frightened that he would do something he couldn't undo and start a war within the camps.

"I'm fine; it doesn't even hurt anymore" you tried to reason, but that only made Nyx breathe heavily out of his nose as he turned to Mor.

"Who did this? Give me his name. Tell me right now, Morrigan!"

Thankfully, Mor didn't answer immediately and glanced at you from the corner of your eye, knowing that you didn't want to cause a fuss, so she didn't respond immediately, which only frustrated Nyx more in his crusade for revenge. "This is why you shouldn't have bought her here! I told you on multiple occasions that it wasn't safe!"

"Nyx, you need to take a breath; maybe you and your father should go outside and release some of that energy" Feyre tried to reason with him, stepping closer, but it was useless; Nyx was like a boiling pot of deathly anger. Shadows pulsed and darkened around him, travelling up the length of his muscular arms and around his neck. Rhys and Cassian finally began to step forward, moving into a warrior stance between Mor, Feyre and Nyx, even attempting to urge you behind them, but there was no way you were being forced away from Nyx.

Stepping toe to toe with him, your fingers moved back to cradling his face, forcing his now icey eyes onto you, and for a fraction of a second, he seemed calmer. "Nyx, please listen to me, I'm fine. Everything is ok, it was just-"

You were unable to finish your sentence because his knees buckled, and he audibly gulped down air as all signs of anger and pain disappeared from his eyes and tears lined the edges. "Nyx?"

"Mate", he whispers in awe, leaning his forehead against yours as his arms come around your waist, holding you delicately.

You could feel it, too, like an elastic band was tied around your heart, strengthening with each passing second. "I can feel it too"," you confirmed with glee, tears beginning to fill your eyes with the sudden realisation of what was happening. You and Nyx were mates. The Cauldron had blessed you both; even after waiting what felt like a lifeline for the bond to confirm itself, you both knew it had only been a matter of time. The relief was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Finally!" Cassian cheered, loosening his warrior stance to return to his glass of wine, raising it towards where you and Nyx stood in the entryway. "Welcome to the family, Little Star!"

You grin up tearfully towards Nyx, who in turn returns the joy, but that all disappears as the anger and rage return full force as he growls, "Someone hurt my mate". Moving away from you, he faces Mor and demands, "Tell me his name, Mor, I know you know it. Don't make me find it out".

Morrigan shifts, rolling her shoulders back as she looks down at Nyx, which is an incredible feat considering the fact that he is considerably taller than her. "Are you threatening me, Nyx??

"He hurt my mate!" he bellows at her, but she doesn't so much as flinch as she shifts her gaze to you, looking like she's contemplating a hundred thoughts at once. Then, without looking away, she confirms the man's name.

"Prumlos".

Nyx vanishes before you have time to stop him, and seconds pass before the ground trembles and shakes the home's foundation. 

"No! I didn't want violence! Why did you tell him, Mor?!" you gawped at the blond, who didn't look remotely sorry.

As Rhysand grabs Cassian and winnows away, Mor steps closer with Feyre at her side. "I told him because we protect our own. Not only has he hurt you, but he's also threatening Emerie; he deserves what's coming to him. In fact, I shouldn't have faltered with telling Nyx, that is my only regret".

You feel defeated and stare at your feet with a thousand thoughts dizzying your mind. Was Nyx ok? Was he hurt? When would he come back? He was your mate. Nyx was YOUR mate.

A pair of brown leather boots entered your vision as Feyre stepped close, wrapping an arm carefully over your not-injured shoulder as she directed you towards the table, kissing your cheek as she moved, "Welcome to the family, properly that is. You've always been one of us, Little Star. Now, why don't you take a seat and I'll see if we have any healing ointments remaining in the cupboards".

Thankfully, Feyre had found a purple ointment that had already worked enough that the pain in your shoulder was considerably less, and the colour of the bruising was now a subtle yellow. Nibbling nervously on the corner of your thumb as you awaited your mate's return, it finally dawned on you. "Wait, how am I supposed to do this? Aren't mates supposed to have a ceremony or something?"

"There can be a ceremony where you offer Nyx some food; we can organise it once we return to Velaris if you'd like? Or if you'd rather not wait, you could offer him food whenever you'd like", Feyre explained warmly with a gentle smile that matched Nyx's.

"I don't think I want to wait. We've all known we would be mates, and waiting for this bond has been slow, so I don't want to wait to accept his bond.

"Why don't you go and have a look in the kitchen? There might be something here", Mor encouraged with a nod towards the back of the house.

You scoured the kitchen cupboards for any sort of food, but with the house having not been in proper use for years, there was nothing except some stale bread on the kitchen table with suspicious-looking green mould on the edges. Even after ripping away the discoloured sections of the bread, you still eyed it with uncertainty.

Stepping out of the kitchen and returning to the dining area, you were surprised to find that Mor and Feyre had gone, and Nyx now stood calmly in the centre of the room, his eyes watching your every breath.

"Where did everyone go?" you ask, trying to fill the thick tension with some noise.

Nyx smiled, not enough to show his dimple but enough to have your shoulders dropping with ease as he stated, "I don't care where they've gone, as long as you remain". Those blazing eyes lowered to your hands as he sucked in a powerful breath as he looked at the stale bread that you were still holding.

As he took several steps forward, you couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to him?"

"What he deserved". There wasn't a speck of blood on his leathery uniform. "What are you doing with that bread?" he asked in a low voice.

You're unsure why you're so nervous when you answer, "Oh, um. It was meant to be for you. I can't find anything else for the mating bond, but it's stale and has mould over it. Maybe I can find a little shop here to find some proper food and serve that to you- NYX!"

Closing the gap between you, he takes the bread out of your hands and, without taking his eyes off of yours, begins to chew the bread that was so clearly dry and stale as he chewed for considerably longer than he should have.

As he finally swallows, you're reaching up for him, resting your hands on his chest and feeling the racing of his heart beneath your palms. "You're my mate", you breathe in awe, forgetting everything that had happened that day and only focusing on the man before you.

"I am. I'm yours, and you're mine", he states with as much wonderment as you felt in your soul.

Grinning up at him, you remind him, "Forever. You're mine forever". The tension beneath your fingers eases as he takes a steadying breath, and then his eyes lower to the edges of your blouse.

You watch with bated breath as he checks the mostly healed bruise. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier".

"Nyx, you could never frighten me, " you reassure and tip a finger beneath his chin so that he has to look at your face, not the injury.

"I've always wanted to keep you safe. Seeing that bruise on you today, I was ready to destroy the world to find out who harmed you".

"I know". You watch as he nuzzles into your palm, kissing the centre as you try to lighten the mood, "You're very intense, you know that, right" you say with a light laugh.

Nyx grins, that precious dimple capturing your attention. "I'm more than intense; I'm obsessed. I've been obsessed for years, and now, there's no escaping me" he chuckles as his hand cups around the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, your arms and legs wrapping around his firm body.

"I thought it was just me with the obsession", you retort whilst curling your fingers into his hair once more. Leaning your forehead against him, you both just breathe the other in, eyes closed and hearing the hearts beating as one.

"There hasn't been a second since you entered my life where I haven't wanted you to be by my side. I think I always knew, even when we were children. And now, you're mine".

"Officially", you joke with a giggle, squeezing your arms and legs more firmly around him.

"Officially, my mate", he agrees and then sighs, balancing your weight on one arm so that he could move aside your blouse and kiss the lightening bruise. "I don't want you to come back here again if you can help it. I don't trust these males".

"That's fine with me. I don't particularly want to return, no matter how lovely Emerie's shop is. I don't know how you can stand to be here, let alone train with them", you agreed wholeheartedly.

"You deserve to be in nice and happy places like Velaris, and I can deal with dreadful places like this. It's in my blood, after all". Nyx took a moment to admire your beauty before he stepped forward and winnowed the two of you into his bedroom in the River House in Velaris. "Finally back where we both belong. Now, you're wearing too many clothing articles".

"Wait, don't you have training?" you ask in confusion.

"Not anymore. They'll have to come here and fight me to drag me back to that shit hole tonight. I have other plans now anyway". As he finished talking, he gently eased you onto the navy silk sheets of his bed, resting his arm next to your head as he looked down at you.

You giggle as his hair falls into his face. Reaching up, you pushed the dark curls back to see him grinning at you with just as much glee. "Mmm, I love that sound", he admires before lowering his face to the junction of your neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive area, causing a shiver to burst over your skin.

"What sound?" you ask in a daze.

"You laughing. Your happiness. It's the best sound in the world", he groans as his lips travel up the slope of your neck before teasing your earlobe.

"You're being extra soppy today, Nyx", you say halfheartedly, secretly loving how open he was with his emotions.

However, the man above you freezes, his mouth next to your ear as he asks, "Say that again".

You know exactly which word he wanted you to repeat as you sigh happily, close your eyes and say, "Nyx".

He moans deeply, his hips rutting into the bed with a thrust as a shiver shakes his large frame. "Again," he asks as he lowers his hands to palm your breasts through your blouse.

It was your turn to sigh before whispering, "Nyx".

He lowers his body, kissing down your sternum as he unbuttons the material, exposing your bra and soft skin to him. Your fingers continue to weave through his hair, subtly scratching against his scalp as he doesn't stop on his journey lower. Next, he removes your jeans and socks until all that remains is your underwear.

He appeared to be a man possessed as he stared at you beneath him, biting your lip in need. With an easy snap of his fingers, he tore through the centre of your bra and pushed the useless straps off of your shoulders and down your arms and then repeated the tearing with your underwear.

Nyx utterly admired every inch of your body, his eyes full of emotions and desires. He seemed conflicted, though, unsure whether to spend his sweet time kissing and tasting every inch of your body. Still, as you spread your legs and directed him where you truly wanted him, he growled lowly, lowering his body until he kneeled next to the bed, arms wrapped around your thighs and feasted between your legs.

"Nyx!" you cried out, eyes closing and back arching from the stimulation.

The two of you had been intimate for years, both losing your virginities together and exploring each other's bodies; you knew one another better than yourselves. Nyx liked to show this off as he perfectly flicked his tongue and held you firmly with his hands; you were begging in a matter of seconds. The man bringing you closer and closer to the edge chuckled as he felt you tremble with restraint, knowing he was only doing enough to keep you on the very brink, loving the desperate little cries you released until it was all too much, and you cried out, "Please! Nyx!"

Sucking on your clit was all that he needed to do to have you spiralling into euphoric bliss. Your thighs trembled as they squeezed around his head, but he would happily be suffocated between your legs, so let the warmth of the press into his cheeks until you'd calmed down enough to relax the muscles.

Breathlessly, you looked down your body to where he was grinning, kissing the top of your pubis before licking his shiny lips.

"You're wearing too many clothes". The armour he was wearing vanished in a flicker of magic. Sitting up on the bed, your hands wound around his toned shoulders,  feeling the muscle ripple and move beneath as you tugged him closer and kissed him with all the desperation you could muster.

Both of you were moving with such urgency that your emotions were overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out the words, "Mine!" repeatedly. You'd heard of the frenzy after a mating bond is accepted, but you never anticipated it to feel this chaotic. You needed every single inch of him, wanted to taste his body, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the moans from between his lips. There was too much to do, and your brain was engulfed with the need to do everything simultaneously.

Gripping onto his arms, you pulled Nyx so that he was now the one lying in the centre of the bed as you moved to straddle over his waist. With your lips still desperately moving together, tongue caressing and deepening into each other's mouths, your hands finally grasped around the thick, veiny length of your mate.

During any other intimate moment, you would have admired the sheer size of him or the beautiful sensation of him throbbing between your fingers, but right now, all you were desperate to do was give him pleasure.

Squeezing your fingers more firmly around the shaft, you moved up and down, using your thumb to smear the precum over the head. He shivered at the touch, his abs tightening and flexing as he groaned in pleasure.

"Need to be inside of you", he pleaded against your lips. You didn't need to tell twice as you roused high on your knees and direct the tip of his cock towards your drenched hole. You only gave yourself a second to adjust to the sheer size of him before you were rotating your hips and beginning to rock back and forth with increasing speed.

Nyx's arms wrapped around your spine, reaching to grasp onto the back of your shoulder so he had a good foundation to hold and fuck his hips up in time to meet yours. The firmness of his strokes had you seeing stars with how deep he felt. You were utterly consumed by Nyx.

The two of you were fucking each other with such a bruising pace that all you could do was dig your nails into his chest and ride him like your life depended on it. It was only a matter of minutes until you were coming, squeezing your walls tightly around his cock until he, too, was tipping his head back and grunting your name with his own pleasure.

You all but collapsed on top of his chest, greedily sucking in air that smelled entirely of him, and you couldn't get enough. It seemed he couldn't for you either as you continued to feel his hardness within you, not softening even after his orgasm.

Before long, with your face still plastered to his sweaty chest, your hips began to roll, his cock nudging deep inside of you.

"I can't fucking get enough of you", you gasp as he throbbed within you.

Nyx rolled the two of you over, so now he was on top, your legs repositioned so that they were against his shoulders, and you were all but bent in half, the angle meaning he could fuck even deeper.

"Yes! Nyx, please don't stop!" you scream, reaching over his shoulders and stroking the sensitive membrane of his wings, watching them flare behind his back.

"Say it", he begs, his eyes glazed whilst looking down at you.

"Nyx!"

"Yes! Say you're mine!"

"I'm yours!" Nyx moves harder, his hand slipping down your legs until his thumb could circle your clit.

"That's right", he grunts between thrusts, "And I'm yours. Forever".

You orgasm so hard you're sure you black out for a couple of seconds because, in the next breath, Nyx is beside you, spooning himself around you, kissing along your collarbones and stroking his palm down your stomach.

"I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" he asks with a rough voice.

You smile softly whilst reaching up to scratch your nails behind his ear, tucking the curls behind his pointed ears, careful not to snag the strands on the multiple silver hoops in his ear. "Not at all, I loved every second".

Nyx grinned, and the starlight that usually glowed in his eyes returned for the first time that day, and he was finally at ease.

"I can't believe you ate that stale bread", you say, laughing at the memory.

"I would have eaten the mould too if you'd given it to me. Whatever food you gave me, I would have accepted it with need in my heart". Those perfect lips of his began to kiss across your cheek and down your throat; however, now that the madness of needing to have sex with him had calmed for a moment, you could actually look him over properly, and that's when you noticed the doting of bruises over his arms and chest, all in different stages of healing.

You tense and ask urgently, "Were these from him? Earlier in the day, I mean?"

Nyx moves away from kissing your throat to look at what you're referring to, shaking his head and casually explaining, "No, they're from training. That asshole didn't have time to make a move against me before I-". You'd lost the ability to hear anything further as a fire burned so thoroughly throughout your soul that it momentarily stole your breath. Red burning anger pulsed in your soul, unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

Before a coherent thought could drift through your mind, you're pushing away from Nyx and climbing out of bed on unsteady legs. Needing to half crawl on the floor before righting your posture, you marched towards his bedroom door.

"Woah, Little Star", Nyx is suddenly in front of you, blocking your exit as he holds his hands up.

You try and push past him, but he just carefully eases you away from the door, "Let me past!" you shout in frustration, trying to wiggle past him.

"I don't think so", he responds gently and calmly.

"Nyx, let me out of this house!" You don't get far through as he moves to press your body against the wooden door.

"And what exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Baring your teeth at him over your shoulder, you continued trying to get out of his hold. "I'll kill everyone who harmed you!"

"Oh really?" Nnyx says lightheartedly and with a slight chortle. "You'll kill them? Miss' I despise violence'?"

You turn around so that you're chest to chest with Nyx, looking up at his with eyes so full of fury he actually bulked and softened his laughter. "Whoever hurt you doesn't deserve to live! They hurt you. My mate. MY MATE. They won't live to see the night!"

Nyx wasn't sure how to calm you down, having never seen you with such anger pulsing through your veins before, but he did what he thought was best: distract you. His fingers clutched desperately into your hair as his mouth pressed against yours firmly enough to cause bruises.

You fight and push against him at first, but then thoughts of anger and pain dissolve into lust and need as you're once more desperately grabbing him. Tearing your mouth away, you kiss down his throat, tasting the salty spice of his natural scent.

"These feelings, they will pass", Nyx reassures as he closes his eyes, thoughts entirely on your mouth as you close your lips around his nipple, biting the sensitive bud.

"So you get to have revenge on someone that wrong me, but I don't get to do the same for you?" you ask whilst looking up at him through your lashes, your nails scratching down his abs before grabbing his once more hardening cock.

He releases another long breath, trying to keep his composure as he thrusts into your palm. "I'm saying that I've had a lifetime of training, and taking care of one pathetic asshole was light work. The mating bond is the intense anger you're feeling, protecting my pride. Everything is so new and fresh, but it will pass Little Star. You'll understand that these bruises were all part of my training in a couple of hours. Everyone has similar marks, making the training brutal and volatile. So this feeling, it will pass. Anyway, you are not leaving this room naked with my cum still dripping down my thighs".

You're finally beginning to relax as your harsh touches soften until you're gently cupping his shaft and looking up at him sheepishly, "I thought you would have liked it if everyone got to see who I belonged to?"

Turning on the spot, you rested your hot cheek against the cool wood of the door and began to grind your arse against his cock, "Mmm, don't tempt me", he growls against the side of your face as he moves closer, bending his knees so he could position his cock into your cunt.

Nyx proceeds to fuck you so hard against the door that it begins to crack down the centre. But neither of you stopped for hours. Not until you were both thoroughly exhausted that neither could stand.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips as you teeter on unconsciousness's edge.

"I love you too", you tiredly say back, eyes drooping, and the darkness of sleep welcomed you into its abyss.

[ddejavvu]

Somnophilia with perv!eddie…

This post is 18+ and dark, minors dni, don’t like don’t read.

He wakes up one morning after you’ve slept over at his place and you’re on your stomach. Your tits are pressed up against the mattress and you’re drooling off of the pillow, and normally that would be gross, but it already has him hardening in his pajama pants..

He leans back to get a better look at you, and you whine at the loss of contact. It’s a needy, desperate sound, your unconscious mind begging for his warmth, and it goes straight to his dick, his stomach knotting as he stares at you.

Then you shift. You move your hips slightly, readjusting yourself as you slip back into a deep sleep, and he watches you. He watches your thighs shift against the chubby globes of your ass, the crease between ass and thighs growing deeper as you settle. He watches your panties fold slightly, dipping into the curve of your cunt. He notices a stain on the fabric, dark and damp, and he’s never reached for his dick faster. The sane part of his brain is screaming at him that it’s probably just discharge, nothing sexual in the slightest, but the dark part, the part that’s winning, insists that you’ve had a wet dream overnight, and who would he be to abandon you in your hour of need?

He realizes that he’s been grinding the palm of his hand over his growing bulge, and he shakily stands, the sheets wrinkled below him. He pads to the end of the bed, standing right at your feet as he figures out positioning. The way he has to bend over so that his face fits in your cunt makes it so that his dick is against the edge of the bed, the perfect friction for him to grind against.

He hunches over the bed, his hair brushing against your thighs and surely tickling you. But you don’t wake, you’re sound asleep as he settles between your thighs, already pressing up against the bed as much as possible.

He smells you first. He breathes in your scent, his mouth watering as he nestles his face against the swell of your ass. His nose prods at the slick fabric and he dares to dart his tongue out, tasting your tainted panties.

It tastes like cotton. He gets the faintest hint of you, that spreads electricity through his entire body and has him nearly groaning. But he stays quiet, reaching for your panties and ever-so-gently tugging them aside.

Your cunt practically calls his name, ready for him to bury his face inside. But he starts slow, your smell so much stronger now that there’s no barrier between you.

He teases a lick against your slit, one that leaves his brain fuzzy. He ruts hard against the bed, his dick embarrassingly hard for how little contact he’s had with you. You taste intoxicating, far more addictive than any drug on the planet, and he needs more. He goes further this time, his tongue slipping past your entrance and sinking into your slick cunt. His saliva is wetting you, not as much as it needs to be, but he knows your pretty pussy will do the rest once he gets going. He goes slow, lapping at your cunt sloppily as his nose nudges your ass.

He can feel you stirring, knows he needs to stop, but can’t. He’s desperately rutting against the bed, humping the mattress like a deranged animal, and it takes all of his self control to contain his orgasm, because he wants to draw this out for as long as possible.

He was right, you start to react. A soft gush of slick coats his tongue and he groans, muffling the sound into you. He’s sure the vibrations affect you, though, because you let out a needy whine, the sound frying his brain.

He manages to raise one of his hands, slipping it under your pelvis. His fingers find your clit effortlessly, his thumb pressing slowly into the bundle of nerves that’s begun to swell slightly. That’s what wakes you, is his finger on your clit. You blink your eyes open slowly, and panic sets in his chest, but he doesn’t pull away, he can’t.

“Eddie?” You ask groggily, peering back at him, “What are you- Eddie!”

You cry out as he digs his thumb against your clit, his tongue flicking out to bury itself once more between your folds. That’s what sends him over the edge, is your sleepy moan, your body tensing before you melt into his touch. He cums hard, letting out a choked cry into your cunt that stimulates you so hard, you cum.

Something about waking up to Eddie between your legs was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and you rode out your orgasm unashamed. You didn’t care that there was drool drying on your face, you didn’t care that your hair was a mess, you didn’t care that you hadn’t shaved your legs. You didn’t care because Eddie didn’t care, or maybe he did, and that was what made it hot. He was licking you out, his hair tangled from sleep, his pajama bottoms slightly twisted around his waist, and he was messy, and you were messy, and it was messy.

He rides out his orgasm far longer than you do, rocking against the mattress like a man possessed. His tongue continues lapping at your pussy and you start to grow oversensitive, whining at the soft stinging sensation.

“Eddie,” you whimper, “Eddie, too much.”

“Right,” he pants into your pussy, “Right, right, baby, ‘m so sorry,” he pulls himself back, staring up at you with wide eyes as he finally processes that you’re awake with a sensible brain. His hair is sticking to his sweaty face and his lips and chin are glistening with a mixture of slick and cum, “I-I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry!”

“It.. it’s okay, Eddie.” You breathe, staring down at him from the bed with wide, shining eyes, “You- that was amazing.”

"It was?" He asks bewilderedly, still panicked that you'd cut him off in disgust.

"It was." You confirm breathlessly, staring down at the darkened stain on his pants, "It was fucking perfect."

[fluentmoviequoter]

A League Christmas

Day 11 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Summary: A Justice League Christmas party overwhelms you, so you sneak off to find a quiet place. Dick finds you and keeps you company.

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Warnings: fluff, brief discussions of insecurity and anxiety, brotherly Jason Todd slander, Hal Jordan (he's a warning by himself) and a GLTAS reference.

A/N: I didn't specify which Dick Grayson this is, so feel free to pick your favorite! I just like Young Justice's Nightwing suit. Also, I love Hal and Razer in GLTAS if anyone is curious. Friendly reminder that I write for several DC characters in this fic, if you'd like to request something with them (request rules & character list)! :)

The first annual Justice League Christmas Gala. Wonder Woman’s idea meets Batman’s money.

Your apprehension about attending has only increased since you got the invitation a week and a half before the gala. The mix of insecurity, fear, and knowing that you’ll be overwhelmed causes you to question whether or not you should RSVP.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you going to the gala?” Nightwing asks, landing beside you.

“I don’t know. Probably not? It’s not like a party of that size will miss one no-name vigilante,” you answer, not looking at him.

“You’re kidding, right? You have to go; who else will keep me sane?”

You glance at him before saying, “One less mouth to feed. I’m doing it for Bruce.”

Nightwing stays quiet, walking beside you until you reach the end of the alley.

“What if we go together? If I’m your date you won’t have to deal with any of it alone. I’ll be stuck by your side the entire time,” he offers.

“I- that would be nice,” you answer quietly, hopeful that being beside him will improve the night.

“Then it’s a date,” Nightwing says, his usual energy back as he jumps onto a dumpster. Extending a hand down to you, he adds, “Now, let’s find Harley, she owes me 20 bucks.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Alfred!” Dick calls as he enters the Batcave, pulling his mask off.

“Yes, Master Grayson? Another injury?” Alfred replies.

“No, of course not, I’m not Jason,” Dick answers.

“Heard that!” Jason yells from somewhere.

Dick shrugs as he smiles at Alfred. “I need you to do something for me at the gala.”

“Anything, Master Grayson.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Stephanie and Cass invited you to go shopping for the gala and found what they (and you) deemed ‘the perfect look.’ It is a combination of your suit colors and Nightwing’s. You feel good in the dress but still wonder if you made the right decision by agreeing to go.

When you enter the venue, you hear a sharp whistle and turn to see Dick Grayson walking toward you. His suit is a deep blue, with elements of the bright Nightwing blue you’ve grown to love. A domino mask covers his eyes and cheekbones, but you still know how beautiful he is.

“You look amazing,” you tell him.

“Seriously? You look like a princess,” he gushes, running a finger over the fabric of your outfit. “You look really good in blue; better than me, maybe.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you argue, laughing as he brushes a piece of hair away from your mask.

“You ready?” he asks, offering his arm.

You loop your arm through his elbow, and he lays his other hand on your arm.

“You’ll do amazing,” he whispers as you approach the top of the stairs.

“Mr. Red Hood and Artemis Grace of Bana-Mighdall,” Alfred announces.

“Mr. Red Hood?” you ask, looking at Dick. “That makes you…”

“Mr. Nightwing, yep. Bruce doesn’t seem to care that everyone here already knows who we are.”

Alfred says your name first, flipping the expected script. You look at Dick and smile brightly, whispering your gratitude for making you laugh. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you nod at Alfred and he sends you a quick, encouraging wink before reading the next set of names.

Your arm stays looped through Dick’s as you make the rounds, saying hello to the heroes you know and introducing yourself to those you don’t. Dick was serious when he said he’d be by your side the whole time. Even when you go to get drinks, his hand stays on your lower back as he orders for you.

“Nightwing? A word?” Superman asks, smiling as he looks over at you.

Dick’s face drops toward yours, and though you can’t see his dark eyes looking at you, you know what he’s asking.

“Go ahead,” you say with a nod. “I’ll be around when you’re done.”

He nods once, gripping your hand before he leaves with Superman. You accept the drink and walk to a secluded area, taking a seat and a deep breath.

“Hey,” someone says. “This seat taken?”

You’re prepared to lie to avoid a conversation, but when you see who it is you smile and say, “No, help yourself.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Dick’s eyes stray to you as he listens to Superman and answers his questions, nodding and laughing when needed. He sees someone approach the table and hopes that they don’t ask to sit down. When you smile and gesture to the seat, the man turns and Dick releases a sigh, turning his attention back to Superman.

✯✯✯✯✯

“And then Razer said, ‘Do you share my opinion that the sweet embrace of death would be welcome today?’” Green Lantern Hal Jordan finishes, laughing alongside you. “Hate to leave so soon, but thanks for the company,” he adds before standing to visit the other Green Lanterns, who were fashionably late (courtesy of Kyle Rayner, no doubt).

After he leaves, and you’re alone as your anxiety begins to grow as the music, the overlapping conversations, and the extravagant gown overwhelm your senses. Abandoning your seat, you back toward the door, smiling at Diana as she passes, before turning and leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Dick hasn’t checked on you since Hal sat down, but he feels a sudden urge to look over. When he sees you backing toward the door, he knows something is off.

“Sorry, Supes, but I need to go,” he interrupts.

Superman looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Take your time.”

Dick nods and rushes through the ballroom, following you up into a small sitting room with large windows. He closes the door, muffling the sounds of the party. You sigh as the quietness washes over you. Turning to him, you begin apologizing.

“I didn’t mean to ditch you, I just got overwhelmed, and…”

“Hey,” Dick interrupts, grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch.

He sits first, then pulls you down beside him, letting you lean against his side while he intertwines your fingers.

“Don’t apologize for leaving a situation that made you uncomfortable. Is that all that’s bothering you?”

“Yes. I just- it was a lot,” you answer.

“I get it. We can stay here as long as you want, or we can really ditch and go get ice cream or hot chocolate or something,” Dick offers, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

There is a small clicking sound just before the lawn outside the window is illuminated with thousands of Christmas lights. You stand quickly, pulling Dick to the window with you, looking at all of the decorations and the intricate light display.

Unbeknownst to you, Alfred looks up into the window and smiles when he sees you standing so close to Dick. “A Christmas miracle,” he mutters before returning to the gala.

“I’d say this is a pretty good first date, all things considered,” Dick says, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

You pull your hand from his and turn in his arms to ask, “This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” He rushes to add, “Unless you don’t want it to be.”

“No, I do,” you answer quickly. “I just thought you offered to go with me because I was nervous.”

Dick brushes his fingers against the bottom of your mask as he says, “I wanted to go with you because you’re the best part of my life.”

“Take it off,” you whisper.

Dick smiles as he pulls the mask away from your face, freezing as his eyes look into yours. He drops your mask on a nearby table, keeping his head turned away as he peels his own off and drops it beside yours.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Grayson,” you tease, looking into his eyes.

“Too long,” Dick agrees, running a knuckle along your cheekbone. “You really are the best part of me.”

“You’re the best part of me,” you parrot, pushing your hands under the lapel of his suit blazer to rest on his chest.

Dick smiles, opening his hand so his warm, calloused palm rests against your cheek. He tilts his head to kiss you, his lips moving slowly against yours in the best slow dance you’ve ever experienced. You lean against him as you follow his movements, more than happy to let him lead.

“Thanks for being my date,” you whisper as he pulls back.

“I got the good end of this deal,” he replies.

The door opens suddenly, and Dick pulls you against his chest, keeping his face to the window as he asks who it is.

“You know the masks are supposed to stay on for this reason, right?” Bruce asks.

“Then why are you using your real voice?” you respond playfully.

“Besides, I can’t kiss her in the mask,” Dick adds, turning to face Bruce.

“Your mask only covers your eyes,” Bruce argues.

“But his eyes are pretty,” you say, smiling.

“I just came to tell you that you can leave if you want to,” Bruce explains, smiling at you. “I’m glad you both came, though.”

He closes the door behind him as Dick looks at you, the Christmas lights reflecting in his eyes as he pulls you closer.

“Me too,” you both say together.

[missjabez]

My barometer for friendship is whether or not a person will let me talk about ants to them. Ants are the best animals in the world. So, as the sane person I am, I decided to speculate whether or not BG3 characters would let me talk about ants.

1. Gale

He would not be interested in the ants themselves, however he would enjoy learning previously unknown facts. He'd be genuinely interested and thank me afterwards for teaching him something new.

2. Shadowheart

In the game she states she loves animals, however I get the vibe this mostly means larger animals. Especially in the state she's in for the majority of the game, before she leaves Shar, I do not think Shadowheart would listen to me talk about ants. She'd not see the point in talking about something so trivial.

3. Lae'zel

Her first response would be something along the lines of: "cht, we do not have ants on the astral plane, why should I care?"

But then I show her the resemblance between ant culture and githyanki culture and she'd be impressed how all ants are ferocious warriors, who also care about the collective and have a queen. She'd come to appreciate ants through my stories and be willing to listen.

4. Astarion

As much as Astarion is one of my favourite characters, there is not a chance he will listen to me talk about ants. He will tap out after the first 10 seconds because of boredom and he would not see the point. He likely thinks insects are pests.

5. Halsin

He would be pleasantly surprised I'm showing such interest in a small and heavily under appreciated animal. However, when he hears how at least part of my admiration comes from their talent in warfare, he is not so pleased anymore.

I think he'd listen to me out of politeness, but not enjoy ants in and of themselves.

6. Wyll

He wouldn't be interested in ants, however he is too polite to show this. He would let me talk about ants and thank me for sharing afterwards, but not because he is interested in what I'm saying and more because he thinks its good I am sharing something important with him.

7. Karlach

A difficult one. I think it can go either of two ways. Either I manage to catch her attention about the battle prowess of ants within the first 10 seconds of this conversation, and she'd get pretty excited about what I am telling her. Or I do not and she zones out after the first 30 seconds because she seems to have a short attention span.

I'd have to throw in the impressive stuff right at the start, while I personally save best for last.

8. Minthara

She is my favourite character, so at first I was a bit sad that she likely wouldn't listen to me talk about ants.

However, then I realised this is not true. In game she mentions showing interest and asking questions about githyanki culture to Lae'zel, because she admires certain qualities it has. I think when she learns about how ants have perfected the art of warfare, live in an exclusively matriarchal society, have managed to take over the entire world without anything in the way to stop them, she'd be equally impressed and eager to learn more.

Thats is guys, hope you enjoyed.

[neverchecking]

hi i just discovered your blog and your writing is amazing 😳 could i request wild x reader, breeding kink? can be yandere or not, up to you!

This deleted twice- if it does it again I'm going to cry-

You ABSOLUTELY can. You can, you can you can-

I have a bit of a favorite. sue me.

If your looking for some noice breeding stuff with wild, @fanfic-fairy-fountain has some mouth watering, thigh clenching, till it remembers every vein DILF! Wild content that made me bark man.

Anyway, Smut so MDNI! 18+

Smut CW: AFAB reader, Breeding Kink. Wild being his namesake, mans has baby fever badly.

He couldn't explain it.

After coming out of the shrine of Resurrection, he had felt...lost. Like a shattered vase with too many pieces missing to have any hope of being put back together. He was no longer the knight that Zelda boasted around- that Link died in the shrine over a century ago- even if it didn't stop her from parading him around like a show pony. He wasn't a champion of old, Revali was right about one thing. He was just...Link. Link of Hateno, who lived on the outskirts of the small village. Who came into town every once in while for supplies. Who otherwise kept to himself, but remained friendly, as long as his companion was happy.

The village couldn't quite place what you meant to him, but that was fine. He knew what you meant to him. You were his Goddess. His reason for living. You kept him sane. You saw his shatter pieces and decided they were worth it. You saw his jagged edges and razor sharp features and soothed them all with a gentle hand and graceful words. You placed yourself firmly in his life without any intentions of leaving. He wouldn't let you leave anymore anyway.

Not when you had made such an impact in his life. Not when you put value in something he saw as worthless. Not when you put your entire trust into believing he could be someone worthy of your love. How could he let something like you, such a blessing, go? He couldn't.

And what better way to keep him tied to you by doing everything you asked of him? Want him to slay an entire monster camp? Elementary. Want him to go, venture out into the wilderness just to hunt this incredibly rare animal? Done. Want to sit on his face and choke him with your thighs? You better be ready to suffocate him because he's not coming out until your coming undone over top of him. Wanna ride his thighs? He's sitting prim and proper for you. Want to tie him up in satin ribbons to use for your own desires?

Just tell him when.

Anything to keep you happy. So when you came up to him, asking him so nicely to breed you, to fill you up, who was he to say no?

So he didn't.

Honestly, what better way to tell everyone you were his, and his alone than to fatten you up with his child? To make you round and plump with his seed. To tie you to him for the rest of your lives.

There was no better way he realized.

Sure he could paint your neck and back and chest and thighs in bitemarks and bruises in his own signature color, singing his name on you in his own unique way. Sure he could put the fattest, prettiest rock he could mine on your finger, watching as you wore it with pride. Sure he could that all.

But none of it quite painted you as his as a child did. An absolute precious little being a perfect mix of the two of you. He could see it now. And absolute angel with your hair and nose, maybe his eyes and ears. Filled with his trademark sense of curiosity, only to be paired with a healthy sense of caution you would instill in them.

Would you want an entire Litter of children to trample along your feet? Or maybe just two or three to focus your attention to carry your legacy? Or perhaps just one perfect mix of you two to shape into the best person this world had to offer.

Didn't matter. He would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Right now? You wanted to be filled.

And he would comply, tearing your tunic and bottoms from your body and pinning you to the dining room table. One hand kept your chest to the table, pushing between your shoulder blades as he freed himself with a single hand. Your whines and please, all but begging for him to breed you, fill you, start your family right then and there ignited a fiery inferno underneath of him, just aching to make your dreams come true.

Anything to keep you tied to him.

His grip was practically bruising as he pulled your hips to meet his with every thrust, ensuring the head of his cock kissed your cervix with every plunge. It had you crying out for him over and over again, tears pearling in your eyes. He cooed at your trembling form, leaning over you without loosing tempo to thumb away your tears. He kissed your cheeks, temples, anywhere he could reach really, letting the one hand left holding your hips drift to fiddle with your clit. He circled it in steady circles, making the tears come back as you jutted against him, thighs twitching wildly.

"Shh, that's it wildflower, just let me take care of you. Leave everything to me. I'll fill you up so nicely, you'll have no choice but to carry our child. In no time at all, you'll be all round and gorgeous, telling everyone you're mine. All mine."

You came with with a hard cry, milking him for what you desperately craved. And if you wanted it, he'd give it to you. The one hand that was gently brushing your tears away snaked between your body and the table, gently cupping your throat so he could pull you against his chest while the other one returned to your hips. He pulled you flush against him, biting into your neck with a muted growl as he emptied into your womb.

But that wouldn't be enough. No. he wouldn't be satisfied until you were nothing but a brainless little thing, trusting him to breed you, and even then, one more wouldn't hurt, would it?

You'd get the child you wanted. He'd make sure of it.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi, if the asks for AEIWAM are still open, can you share some more regarding the 12th division transitioning to taking over R&D, thanks to Urahara? Did the other divisions take it well, were there fights over boundaries/responsibilities/secrets? Individual divisions holding onto research directly relating to their remits? And how did Mayuri taking over from Urahara impact relations with other divisions?

Urahara proposing a dedicated research and development branch was not a particularly unexpected move, and a wildly applauded one.

His predecessor, now-Royal-Guard Hikifune, had done extensive research and development on her own when she developed both the modern Gikon and the Mod Souls like Kon. The 4th was massively overworked but still doing their own medical research. The Kido corps had been doing their own R&D writ: spells for ages. The 7th division had been tracking death and soul statistics like where souls reincarnated in the Rukongai and who went to hell and why for centuries. "Science" is a very strong word for what the 11th was doing re: destruction, but by golly they were doing a lot of it.

So Urahara's idea to develop a cross-division group dedicated to connecting existing research and developing new lines of inquiry from there was an extremely logical step and one pretty much everyone regarded as a good move.

---

Everyone, except Aizen.

See, Aizen had been doing his own little experiments with creating and perfecting the Hogyoku and those experiments involved a shitload of murder and other crimes, not to mention the whole treason thing, and Aizen was worried that if Kisuke managed to say, actually collate and look over the Rukongai crime stats Aizen had been hiding or read up on the Kido corps work, he might be JUST smart enough to figure out what Aizen was up to.

So Aizen made sure that when they got caught, that the experiments he'd been running would look like Kisuke's work :)

I think Aizen also had a significant hand in making sure it was the literal clown Mayuri who got the job after Urahara fled. There were definitely better candidates to become the Gotei-13's quartermain, but I think Aizen either discouraged them, or figured out how to make Mayuri look way more sane than he actually was to the other captains when the vote came.

Mayuri was a disaster for R&D. Not only were his scientific methods dubious at best, none one the other divisions trusted him with their work, and all of them became a lot more secretive and paranoid.

The 4th resumed it's own medical research, which was slow because of all the other work the 4th needed to do as well. The 7th kept its statistics under lock and key lest Mayuri get funny ideas about killing people to measure things faster. This new cloaked way of doing business allowed Mayuri to engage in horrors that actively got in the way of progress. Like recruiting the top 10% of the academy's graduating class for his division and then using them as guinea pigs and/or explosives.

Aizen: All According to Keikaku :)

---

In AEIWAM, not all hope was lost.

Before he was a shinigami, Kaname Tousen was a Librarian.

It was all he ever really wanted to be- when he came to the seireitei it was entirely to investigate his sister's death. He had no intention of enrolling in the academy, or pursuing rank.

Aizen has a way of derailing people's lives.

By force, when necessary.

By pounding 44 magical nails into Tousen's spine and carving command kanji into his shoulders and inflicting a vile curse on him to force Kaname into being his co-conspirator, his own personal R&D, and his entertaining puppet, if necessary.

Well,

Maybe Aizen is having a little bit more fun than strictly "necessary".

Aizen might have cursed Tousen into silence and obedience, but he can't stop Tousen from keeping his own records. Meticulous notes about every excursion he is made to take, every crime he is forced to commit, every horrific act Tousen does through tears- everything is recorded, documented, and safely stored in triplicate in several locations and formats.

In fact, Aizen comes to rely on those records- Aizen is very good at Lying and Kido and Hubris but that is the extent of his intellectual prowess. He relies on Gin to keep track of what everyone else is doing, and on Tousen to do all the scheduling, lab work, provisions and actually keeping the aarancar in line.

And Kaname takes advantage to press the curse whenever he can- he was close, he was so. Fucking. Close! To getting the whole scheme exposed during Turn Back The Pendulum.

He tried. He tried and tried to say it when Yamamoto interrogated him, to confess his sins and bring Gin and Aizen down with him, to make himself understood.

-Who did this? Who killed captain Hirako?

-I know them! I know, but I can not say!

It's all Kaname can manage before the curse retaliates, and almost strangles him to death to keep his silence, invisible to Yamamoto because of Aizen's illusions.

---

...after the nature of the curse is revealed, Yamamoto listens to the recording of that interrogation and weeps. The captains are the closest thing he has to children. Yamamoto hears this man who is almost his son, screaming, begging him to understand -

Not "I don't know"

Not "I will not say"

"I know, but I can not say."

---

So Kaname bides his time, keeps his records and tries to distract himself form his situation by drawing what conclusions he can.

After the Winter War, there is some debate as to what's going to happen to R&D.

Mayuri is in a jar, battling for control of his body.

Nemu refuses to admit he's out of action. Akon refuses to be promoted.

Kisuke or whoever does run the 12 will be too busy shovelling leftover war crimes out of the basement to actually run R&D.

Yamamoto has a long-standing agreement with Unohana that if he makes her take on One More Thing, he will not get the privilege of dying.

Ukitake is running the Kido corps, but he's also already got a foot in the grave.

Yamanoto isn't sure he can trust anyone else with lab equipment.

" ...Tousen." he says, nonchalant, visiting him in the hospital. "You seem to be rather accomplished at record-keeping and lab work."

"Last time you promoted me while I was in the hospital after a catastrophe, it extended my recovery by a solid five years and lead to an even greater one. No. Tell Kisuke to buck up and run R&D, it was his damn idea in the first place."

"Yes, obviously." Yamanoto says as though he had been planning that at all. "-but the court guard still needs to be supplied, so if Kisuke is running R&D, who is running the 12th?

"Muguruma."

"Pardon?"

"Kensei Muguruma might be the second-worst boss I've ever had but he is rigorously punctual, has an incredible work ethic, and can be trusted to stick to rules and regulations to the letter. He's a rigid, grouchy, hard ass, and a terrible match for the ninth, but he'd make an excellent quartermain." Kaname sighs.

Yamamoto ponders that for a bit.

"Also, he's running the newspaper over my dead body." Kaname elaborates. "He's contracted horoscope brainrot from Mashiro, I'm afraid."

"He may attempt to dispute that he should be running the Ninth as his prior demotion was unlawful, as is his right." Yamamoto nods. "It would be resolved by some kind of combat."

"I've gutted him once, I'll do it again." Kaname grunts and Yamamoto barks a laugh.

"I believe your judgement is sound, and will abide by your recommendation." Yamamoto nods, patting Kaname's hand. "I will inform Urahara and Muguruma of their new responsibilities."

"...Thank you, sir." Kaname mumbles, listening to Yamamoto open his notebook and write something down. "For your trust in me, and not promoting me again."

"Hm." Yamamoto nods.

To-Do: Update last will and testament in regards to successor choice. He writes.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟

Stress relief came in many forms, and for Bucky? You knew just how to maximise the relief and get his mind entirely off the troubles of his racing career, you just needed to carry out your plan — subtly, of course.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ❯❯❯ Street Racer!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ❯❯❯ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ❯❯❯ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Fingering (F receiving), unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, car sex, public, clothed sex, so much dirty talk ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, begging

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ❯❯❯ Look, I do not understand where this came from, but wow — I will be recovering from this one too. I wish you luck.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ❯❯❯ I Feel Like I'm Drowning by Two Feet

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ❯❯❯ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 4 — 'C' Week (Car Sex) — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The night’s sky flew past while the whine of the engine echoed off the barriers of the winding road. It never got old, sitting in the passenger seat while Bucky zipped and pushed the limits of gravity and what was sane – but for a good cause, this time.

Date night was upon you, and ever the adrenaline junkie, you had asked Bucky to take you up to the lookout. The weather was perfect – clear skies gave the perfect opportunity to view the stars and shining moon, and not to mention, with the time of night, there would likely be no one around. 

It was perfect for your plan.

The gear change made the engine roar, and you laughed as Bucky threw the Skyline into the turn – back end kicking out and spreading stones and rubber over the shoulder. 

“We should do date night more often, baby,” Bucky chuckled, booting the accelerator and pumping the clutch. “Only time I see you so excited is when I’m fucking you.”

“Bucky!” You shrieked, staring at him, mouth agape – but he had a point, you just couldn’t let him know that. “That’s not true!”

The look he gave you, clear and calculating as he upshifted on a straight, made you squirm. “I know you’re lying, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes and pouted at him, but he just shook his head, downshifting for another turn, when the lookout came into view. The sun had long since set, but the glow of the city was bright like a second sun over the horizon, visible even from the steep hill that the Skyline climbed. 

“I can’t wait,” you rushed, glancing back into the back seat where a couple of blankets and containers filled with food sat belted in place. “This is going to be so nice, just us two–nothing to bother us.”

“Tell me ‘bout it,” Bucky hummed, turning the Skyline into the empty parking lot, right into the best spot. From your vantage point, the view of the city was wide and beautiful, all the twinkling lights winking at you from afar. “Fuck I’ve missed this. It’s just nice to get away from everything.”

Frowning slightly, you looked at Bucky closely as he killed the ignition. It had been a rough few weeks with the police cracking down on every meet planned, and when a meet did kick off, it was full of arrogant bastards that wore down his already short temper faster than a lit fuse. At your suggestion of a date night, Bucky had jumped on it – though he didn’t know the entire reason.

With tension, you found, Bucky was pent up beyond belief. Fucking that anger and frustration out had been the one release he’s had and exploited, and you weren’t going to lie, it had been amazing. But, tonight, you wanted to be sweet – soft, at least, to begin with. 

What Bucky would do once he learnt of your motives… You’d let it unfold, you would win either way – wearing a dress had many pros.

“Alright,” you sighed happily, unbuckling the harness and turning in your seat. “What do you wanna start with, babe?”

Bucky shifted in his seat to face you, his expression thoughtful as he dumped his phone into the glovebox. “I dunno,” he mumbled, looking into the back seat. “What do you want?”

Your dick, you thought hastily – the thought, while not entirely untrue, blurting that out would cause a cascading effect, and you were hungry. Food first, dick later, you decided. “Crackers and cheese?”

The containers fit perfectly between the two of you, and you began to eat while happily chatting, catching one another up on the mundane and inconsequential events in one another’s lives – your workmate’s dating horror story, the projects you’d undertaken. Bucky talked about the events of Steve’s work and tuning his Dodge (not that it made a lick of sense), and the way that Sam had lost his shit at an officer and ended up in a pursuit, and somehow getting away. 

From crackers and cheese, you moved onto cakes and chocolate – feeding one another the new flavours you had found in an artisan bakery and remarking on how delicious they were. 

Music continued to play from the stereo to fill the stretches of silence between words as you ate, and once you had eaten your fill, you slumped in your seat and stared at Bucky, smiling softly. 

“What?” Bucky asked, brow raised as he ran a hand through his hair to tuck it behind his ear. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours, baby?”

“Nothing,” you sighed happily, watching as Bucky packed up the containers and stretched to put them onto the backseat. “You’re just so handsome, you know?”

Bucky snorted, but a pink tinge dusted his cheeks, a bashful smile on his lips. “You tryin’ to sweet talk me?”

“Can you blame a girl?” you fired back, smirking. “I’ve got the world’s sexiest man sitting across from me, and he’s all mine.”

“My god, baby-” Bucky laughed, his nose scrunching as he shook his head. “You’re cute. Stop it.”

“No.” Biting your lip, you reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb gently along his full bottom lip, and his lips parted on instinct. “I will never stop sweet talking my man, because you deserve it, and you deserve all the good in the world–I’m trying my best to give it to you.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, the music over the speakers muting to background noise. Bucky’s stare turned from bashful to absolute shock, like he was the one floundering on what to say. “Let me show you,” you whispered.

“Okay,” Bucky replied, his voice wavering. 

Carefully, you climbed over the middle console and straddled his lap, his hands resting on your hips as you pulled him into a passionate kiss that turned heated and desperate once you swiped your tongue over his lips. 

Bucky groaned quietly as he opened his mouth, bidding you entry to explore – not that you needed to, you knew his body better than your own. Your hips began to rock slowly over his clothed crotch, the denim of his jeans rough on your bare thighs. 

“God, baby, I wanna feel you,” he breathed, pulling away to brush his lips over your neck. 

“Go ahead,” you whispered back, lifting up on your knees to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Your concentration faltered when his hand wandered to your cunt to tease your clit. 

A low whistle left Bucky’s lips as he brushed a finger down to your weeping entrance. “Already so wet for me, huh? ‘S this all for me?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, finally slipping his jeans down with his help. “Been wanting you all night.”

Bucky grinned and moved one hand to grip the sides of your throat, the other moving back to tease your clit again. “In that case, baby,” he purred. “Let’s see how quick I can make you cum on my fingers first. Can’t have my girl that desperate she’s hurtin’, now, can I?”

“No,” you whimpered. Unbidden, your hips moved to ride his fingers and Bucky chuckled.

“See?” Bucky cooed, flicking your clit once, twice, and you cried out. “Your cunt just wants somethin’ fillin’ her, doesn’t she?” 

“Yeah, wan’ you, Buck- Please,” you breathed, moaning when he teased your entrance. It was torture waiting this long, but he was nothing if not a tease. 

“Oh, you’ll get me, sweetheart, but first,” Bucky purred, pulling your face closer. “First you’ll fuck my fingers.”

Your moans and whimpers echoed in the cabin of his Skyline as he worked his fingers in and out of your cunt, curling them against your walls while his thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this, just a whore who wants to be fucked and filled, aren’t you?”

“Ah–Ah! Ye-” A hiccuped moan interrupted your answer. “Yeah, please, wanna cum- Need your cock!”

“Need you to cum for me first, baby,” Bucky cooed, his fingers moving faster. “You’re squeezin’ me–know you’re close, c’mon.”

It spread slowly, the all encompassing pleasure of a blinding climax gripping you in its clutches. “Bucky! Fuck, put it in me! Wanna cum on your cock, pleasepleaseplease, oh god,” you rambled, groping at his shoulders. 

Bucky hissed, a low, “Fuck,” before you were being moved, and his fingers left your cunt, only to be replaced by his cock. “Oh, fuck, baby–so tight, let go, need you to let go, lemme feel it.”

The pace Bucky set was brutal, each thrust up into your pulsing heat punched a moan from your lungs until your thighs started to shake. “‘M coming! Bucky!”

“That’s it, call me, sweetheart,” Bucky moaned. “Let go, now. Cum on your cock.”

Your climax washed over you, sweeping you under and you screamed into Bucky’s shoulder – unable to move through the sensations, nor did you want to, with him guiding you through and prolonging it with long, deep thrusts. 

“Fuck,” you gasped once you could breathe. “Fuck me, babe–fuck me.”

“Oh, baby girl, you know not to say that shit to me,” Bucky groaned, the back of his head hitting the headrest with a dull thump. His hair was sticking to his forehead – strands falling into his eyes and curling around his ears. 

“Want you to use me,” you urged, kissing down his neck and rolling your hips when his grip faltered. “Go on, fuck me.”

“Shit,” Bucky drawled, his voice breaking. “Fuck it.”

Bucky fucked up into your cunt with abandon, his hips pistoning with such ferocity your breath caught on each thrust, and you tried in earnest to meet them – even as the Skyline rocked with each movement. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” Bucky panted, and you nodded, reaching down your stomach to rub fiercely at your clit. If you came again, and fast, you knew it would tip him over the edge. “You gonna touch yourself for me, sweetheart? Like a fucking slut?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. The first touch made your stomach jolt and you cried out. “Want you to cum–fuck and fill me, Bucky, need it!”

“Know you need it, you fucking slut,” Bucky growled, his tone dangerously low. “And you’re gonna take it like the good girl you are, aren't you?”

Nodding fervently, you sped your fingers up at the first sign of the coil tightening. Bucky groaned loudly and tucked his chin to his chest, lifting his hips with more desperation than before, when you felt the first twitch of his cock deep in your heat. “Yes! Yes, fucking give it to me, babe, please,” you begged, pulling his hair. 

“‘M so fuckin’ close,” Bucky whined. “Cum for me again, give me one more, sweetheart. Fuckin’ cum for me.”

The ferocity of the words hit you like a tidal wave, and you were pulled under again, only dully registering Bucky’s shout as warmth bloomed between your legs and leaked down your thighs. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” Bucky moaned, his voice hoarse. Aftershocks were making your whole body tremble, and you gripped Bucky for dear life. “I’ve gotchu, baby, breathe.” You fell into his chest when he pulled you in by the waist and he tucked your head into his neck, both of you breathing heavily. “Deep breaths for me.”

You followed Bucky’s inhale and exhale, a set pattern of counting to four with each inhale and exhale, and slowly, your body calmed to a point where you could actually move, and think.

“You need stress relief more often,” you sighed, cuddling into his embrace and smiling when you felt and heard his laugh.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dancing With Fire Part 5: Hold me now✨

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 13.2k

Summary: The pressure keeps building at the theater. You feel like you’re about to break, when all you wanted to do was dance in the first place. Will you push everyone away like you always do, will Joel step in and save the day like he always does, or will you lose everything you ever loved?

Tags: Angst, anxiety/depression, feelings, no explicit smut in this chapter, all the angst and feelings, protective! Joel, so much love

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

A/N: I’m sorry, I was really feeling all the angst for this chapter. And then Joel 🥹 Joel is just so perfect and soft and so sweet and he will do anything for sunshine 🥹 Please leave me comments and tell me what you think of this one, there’s nothing I love more. I truly love writing this story, and it hits home in a lot of places 😩 Also, this chapter was very long and could’ve been two but it’s okay 😅

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“It’s like there’s cancer in my blood, it’s like there’s water in my lungs. And I can’t take another step, please, tell me I am not undone. It’s like there’s fire in my skin and I’m drowning from within. I can’t take another breath, please, tell me I am not undone.”

- “Pittsburgh” by The Amity Affliction

Monday rolled around as fast as a speeding train, crashing into you like a stony brick wall. It pulled at you, screaming your name as it called you back to the theater. Back to your hellish nightmare that you wanted to so desperately escape from. The night before it fed on your mind, slow and deadly, eating away at you like a rat chewing its way through a bundle of wires. What kept you calm and sane was Joel.

You ended up staying the entire weekend at his place, wrapped up in his warmth as he held you close to him every single night. And when he crowded your body, when he held you against his broad chest and grazed his calloused fingers against your skin gently, it brought you instant peace.

He was a wave of serenity, a cool cloud that covered you in warmth and protection. He was what kept you together, what kept you calm enough so you could breathe freely. And when his lips came down on yours and you breathed in his coffee scent, it nearly sent you over the edge. Every single time. He was perfect, nothing less than that. Your safe space, your everything.

“You ready to head out?” he asked as he finished the last of his coffee while you finalized putting the last bobby pin in your hair, smoothing out the flyaways from your face. You double checked that your eye liner was on point and nodded to yourself in the mirror.

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you sighed, gathering your practice bag as you zipped up your lilac North Face jacket. Joel nodded and turned off the kitchen light, opening the door as he invited the cool autumn breeze in. You stepped over the frayed welcome mat, and then he shut the door and pulled the lock tight behind him.

You waited at the end of the stairs for him, looking out into the misty day of New York. It was dreary, cloudy, a cold day that weighed on your head like a dark cloud about to pour all its dread and lightning on you. But you already felt that, felt the heavy sensation dragging you down as you waited for it to end. You just wanted it to be over. Let it be over.

Joel pulled you out of your dark thoughts and put his hand on the small of your back, leading you down the street and towards the theater. You were quiet this morning, barely saying a word throughout breakfast, almost too anxious to eat. But Joel made sure you ate. He wouldn’t let you leave the house without something in your stomach. And you were so grateful for him. He was too kind, too caring, too good for you. But you couldn’t imagine sinking away from him. No. You wouldn’t imagine it. It was too painful, too fresh. You would be an absolute wreck without him.

He noticed the silence and the anxious thoughts running through your head, but he didn’t say anything. He just took your hand in his and squeezed, letting his calloused thumb brush over the back of your hand as it instantly eased you of any worries. It was kind of crazy how he could do that. That he could take all your worries and toss them aside as he filled you with sunshine and warmth with just a touch of his hand. And his voice. God, his voice. It was angelic, celestial, a sound that filled you with instant peace. And you’d never get enough of it, never get enough of him.

When you finally made it to the front of the theater, you stopped and caught a glimpse of the advertisement for the upcoming Swan Lake ballet. There you were, right on the front of the billiard in your white swan dress, gently smiling into the camera for all the world to see.

That didn’t feel like you anymore. You felt like the black swan now, the darker version of yourself. A broken, empty shell that sat hollow in the darkness. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you stared at that picture of the girl, the happy girl. The girl you used to be before you met Pierre. Before you were worked to death like a slave on that stage, brusied and ripped to shreds over and over again like an elephant in a cage at a fucked up circus. You felt the tears prick behind your eyes, felt everything come down inside you. It was like your walls were torn down, just like a building that was destroyed to shreds and knocked to mere ash and broken concrete.

You felt yourself slipping, felt your body start to shake until Joel grabbed your shoulders and turned you in his direction, knocking you out of your dark hole that you were spiraling into. “Hey, look at me,” he said urgently as his deep brown eyes searched yours, looking for any shroud of evidence that you were okay. But he knew you weren’t. He knew.

“Talk to me,” he gently demanded as his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes turned to a darker, more charcoal color that was muted and desperately seeking for you to grasp onto him.

“I…I…” you stuttered out, no words coming to your hollow mind, so you tried again. “I’m scared. Joel, I’m so scared,” you said shakily as you grabbed on to his button-up flannel shirt and dug your fingers into the smooth material, trying to get a grip on reality as fear tried to take over again. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel the sweat bead through your forehead and drip through your hair as your heartbeat raced against your chest chaotically.

“Hey, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me,” he gently soothed as he cupped each side of your face and lifted your watery eyes to meet his. He looked carefully at you, his brown eyes searching for clarity underneath your clouds of grey waning down on you. “Just look at me. Breathe,” he eased out, letting out a long breath as he urged you to follow after him. You slowly followed his movements, focusing on deep breaths and slow inhales. He grounded you back to earth, back to where you could sort of breathe again, and the ringing ears gently died down. No more ocean sounds swishing around in your ears, it was just Joel’s voice now. Just Joel.

“There ya go, sunshine. Atta girl. Take a couple more deep breaths for me,” he instructed as he slowed your heart rate back to normal, letting all your anxiety come to an end as you focused on those caramel eyes swirling in front of you.

Just breathe, focus on Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel.

“Feel any better?” he asked as the pad of his thumb skimmed over your cheek, pulling you back together piece by little piece with just the touch of his rough skin against yours.

“Mhm,” you hummed out as you grabbed his wrist, wrapping your hand around it tightly as you coiled yourself around him, around his shielding wings from the cold, broken theater that sat in front of you like a haunted mausoleum with ghosts coming out of the walls, warning you to run away if you could.

“Good,” he answered as he continued grazing his thumb against you, calming your nerves gradually. “You’ve got this, baby. You go in there with your head held high and dance your heart out. You’re the swan. The majestic, beautiful star that is gonna absolutely kill it opening night. No one can take that away from you, no one can stop that shine that I see in you when you dance from the soul. You can do this, I believe in you,” he emphasized his last words as he stared intently at you with those honey flecked eyes that you loved.

Love, love, love. That’s what it was, that’s all you could see in him. Love. And you’d tell him how you really felt about him, just not now. Not in this vulnerable moment when you were almost torn to shreds by your insides fighting against you.

You can do this, I believe in you. The words rang through your head again and again as you processed just what he said to you. He believes in you. Joel does… Joel.

“I… Joel… thank you. For believing in me,” you whispered out, almost afraid to speak the words as the tears licked at the backs of your eyes, threatening to spill over if you got too emotional.

“You’re welcome, sunshine. Just remember, whatever you decide I’ll back you up. If you want to dance then dance. If you want to walk out that door today then I’ll gladly follow you out. I’ll go with you anywhere, all you have to do is ask,” he said with meaningful words and eyes that threatened to take you over the edge once more.

“Okay,” you nodded, gulping down any tears that threatened to spill. You had work to do. You needed to see this through. You wouldn’t give up, you’d never give up. “I need to get in there and change. They’re probably waiting for me,” you sighed as he dropped his hands from your face, letting you take a step back.

Before he let you go, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his broad chest, sinking his lips down on yours as he held the back of your head and pressed deeper into you, your lips lingering over his for a minute. You didn’t want to pull away, you never wanted to pull away. This was where you wanted to be. In his grasp, on his lips, wherever he was you wanted to go. Your safe space, your home.

You slowly pulled away and grazed your fingers through his scruff, catching a patch of grey before you dropped your fingers and headed toward the glass doors. “I’ll see you later,” you said faintly as you walked towards the entryway, back to hell as you called it lately.

“Knock ‘em dead, sunshine. I’ll be around if you need me.”

You took one more look at him before you disappeared behind big glass doors, away from his warm embrace. You sucked in a breath and waltzed into the auditorium with your head held high and your dignity intact as you made your way to the dressing room. To your small space where you could think before you got sucked into the drama of it all again.

The auditorium was cool, just like a gust of wind blew down your back and wrapped you in its cold claws that clamped down its jaws on you. You dragged your hand through the crimson velvet walls, feeling your way down the slope of the hardwood floors, planting yourself firmly down on the ground. Down to where you belong, down to where you have to be. You have to dance. You have to. But that was just what you had to do, not necessarily what you wanted to do.

You sighed as you made your way behind the draped stage curtains and ended up in your dressing room. The small room was filled with bright lights from the vanity that was left on. The pale pink wardrobe was sitting open exactly how you left it Friday, full of your sparkling costumes that you were meant to wear onstage.

The sleek black swan dress was staring at you, shrouding you with its black wings that called to you in a depraved, dark night song. The black threads twisted around your wrists, stuck you with its needles as it trapped you, succumbed you, doomed you. It called your name, screamed for you to cave in. Come to the dark, let me show you the way. This way, this way.

You peeled your eyes away and slammed the door shut, hearing the sound of it reverberate around the walls of the shallow room, drowning out the voices of the dark swan. You threw down your practice bag on the ground with a loud thump and tore off your too warm jacket. You were frustrated, torn, anxious from the room, anxious from the theater, anxious from the show. But the show must go on. It had to go on. With you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, staring back at your reflection as swimming eyes came into focus. Your eyeliner was dark, eyeshadow shimmering black against your eyelids as the dark red lipstick stuck matted to your lips. You looked the part of the black swan, felt like her, too. She was a part of you now, even if you didn’t like it.

You signed away your life as soon as you scribbled your name on that contract. You sold your soul to the devil in dark red letters, sealing your fate to the hands of the show. You couldn’t escape, there was no escape. Not unless you wanted to deal with the consequences. Contracts were binding, there was no breaking them. Not unless you wanted to end your career as soon as it finally took off. There was no leaving this show. Not until it was done. Finished.

So you decided to put on a brave face. You held your chin high and tucked away any tears that tried to escape your red blurry eyes. It was time to get ready to dance. You could do this. You could do this. You pulled on your pointe shoes and laced the pink ribbons up nicely around your ankles, tying neat bows around your sheer tights. You smoothed out your rosy pink skirt and pulled up the black leotard that clung to your body like a suction cup. Time to dance. Time to dance. You took one more long look in the wide mirror and left the room, leaving your hollow thoughts in the empty tomb.

When you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage, Carlotta clapped her hands and shouted across the auditorium as her voice echoed around the theater. “Alright, let’s go! Black swan, you’re up. Take it from Act II,” she commanded as she took a seat and crossed her skinny arms across her bright red suit of the day.

You nodded and got into place. Deep breath, breathe. Joel’s calming voice entered your mind, and you relaxed against it, against his reminder. Breathe.

When the orchestra music blasted out of the speakers, you started the routine with your head held high and your arms graceful like a swan. You turned on your toes, leapt across the stage into an arabesque and focused on your movements. You made them sharp, clean, perfected your footwork as the routine went on. You were alone for this dance, one of your solo routines. You were fine alone, you weren’t caving inside when you didn’t have to dance with Pierre. This was fine, you were fine. That is until you saw him out of the corner of your eye.

You saw his sharp jaw, his icy glare, his slicked back locks of blonde, his chin jutting out as he watched you. It felt like a lion watching a gazelle. Ready to pounce, ready to attack. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, feel the hunger that stirred in his chest, feel his drool leave his mouth as he watched you, hungered after you. And it made you sick to death.

You ended the routine with your chin held high and lips pursed together in a tight line, your arms stretched thin like they’d break off if you extended them anymore than they already were. You were on edge then, on a tight thin wire that was bound to snap if you made one wrong step.

“Good, beautifully done,” she said as she waved her hand around her face frantically. You sighed and relaxed your back as you stepped out of fifth position. “I’m going to have the other dancers run through their routines. After that, we’ll circle back and you’ll perform your duet with Pierre.”

Your jaw clenched as you fisted your fingers tightly against your flexed tendons. Your toes curled in on themselves as much as they could, and it felt like your leotard was squeezing your ribs, threatening to break into nothing but dust as your bones snapped in half. You didn’t realize you were standing there, staring wide-eyed until Carlotta snapped your name.

“Well, go on. Don’t just stand there, we have a schedule to follow!” she snapped. You nodded your head and flew off the stage, away from Pierre’s prying eyes.

You found an empty wooden bench backstage and sat down, pressing your fingers into the pit of your thighs as a way to calm yourself down. You’re fine, breathe. You’re okay. You took a deep breath and focused your mind on Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel. Your sweet redemption, your saving grace.

You closed your eyes for a couple of minutes until the harsh sound of laughter came across the back of the stage, at the bench opposite of you. You opened your eyes slowly and dug your nail beds into the tips of your knees, trying not to lose your focus. Breathe, breathe.

Pierre sat there with three of the ballet dancers crowded around him. All three women fawning over him and caressing his lengthy shoulders, flirting their way around him as they giggled and twirled their flyaways around their index finger. The sight made you sick. You knew damn well he had all three of them in his bed not long ago. He bragged about it, boasted about how proud he was to be such a stud. All you could do was roll your eyes and bite your tongue from all the things you wanted to say. He was such an asshole.

Cecilia sat next to him, hand lingering on his thigh as she whispered in his ear seductively. Her gaze straggling over to you occasionally as her bright green eyes narrowed over at you like a cat trying to claw her way into a fight. Her bleach blonde hair was held up in a tight bun, her pink lipgloss shining over her twisted mouth. Her skirts were always too short, her cleavage sticking out of her leotards. The fakest slut you’d ever seen before.

You hated her, truly hated her. She was nothing but trouble, always seeking out drama. And she tried so hard to press your nerves, tried to draw blood from you every time she opened her big mouth. But you never caved in, never reacted to her. That’s what she wanted, and you wouldn’t have any part of it.

Pierre whispered something in her ear, his hand reaching out and pulling her ear closer like he had a nasty secret to tell. She covered her mouth, and her eyes went wide. She whispered back to him and he nodded, icy eyes glazing over at you like you were caught in a trap of lies. They both looked at you, mouths pursing in snickers as their eyes narrowed. You couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand it. Something snapped in you and hard.

“If you have something to say just say it to my face!” you hissed, eyes narrowing as your hands balled into fists beside your thighs. You’d had enough. Enough was enough.

Cecilia just smiled her fake smile and smirked at you. She was brewing something up under those fake eyelashes she had plastered to her eyes. You just knew it. She was always stirring up trouble. “Oh, I was just asking Pierre about your… what was he again? Maintenance man, I guess?” she snared her teeth at you and smirked, eyes locking on yours.

“He’s no concern of yours, Cecilia. Drop it,” you snapped, your teeth bared at her pathetic smile.

“Drop it? What for? You didn’t give us any juicy details. What’s he like, huh? When he fucks you…”

You pushed yourself off the bench and snarled at her, silencing her before she could finish her sentence. “Shut up! Just stop!” you screamed, face hot as you could feel your face become red and agitated underneath your building anger. Calm down, just calm down.

“Why don’t you make me, huh? Come on now, don’t be shy. Let me have it,” she egged on, trying to coax some violence out of you. That’s what she wanted, that’s what she always wanted. She wanted you out of the show so she could take your place. She could try all she wanted, but you wouldn’t dare let her have it. Not that conniving bitch. Not a chance.

You just stood in place, feet locked to the floor as your chest heaved against you, a thunder storm brewing inside your racing heart. She’s not worth it, she’s not worth it. You bit your tongue and held back what you really wanted to say. It wasn’t worth the risk, not at all.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t think you had it in you, little swan,” she mocked as Pierre and her shared a laugh, cackling to each other in pure joy. It made you sick. They made you sick.

Pierre whispered something in her ear, and her eyes went wide in delight. She pursed her lips and giggled, nodding her head as she stared at you in victorious glee. They were planning something scandalous. You just knew by the way they were whispering and stealing glances at you.

You gulped as a sharp tug pulled at your insides. The way she was looking all mischievous and snarky had your vocal cords all tied up and scratchy. You knew she was up to no good, you knew. So when she snuck off the back of the stage and made her way to the front of the auditorium doors, you silently followed behind. Watching, waiting, wondering what the hell she was up to.

She went through the doors, and you watched them close with a bang. Slowly but carefully you opened the door seconds later, sliding around a hidden corner and peeking your head out of the shadows. When you caught sight of her, your heart stopped dead in your chest. Your pupils blew out as your head started spinning. She was walking up to Joel, sauntering up to him in a flirtatious way as she swayed her curvy hips from side to side, hiking her skirt up even more so her ass hung out of her tiny leotard.

She wouldn’t fucking dare. But she would, she would. Joel. Would Joel entertain her? Surely not. He wouldn’t… right?

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as your legs shook like melted jello underneath you. Your anxiety started racing, the loud ringing vibrating through your ear canals. Not now, not now! You shook your head and pulled your focus back to the empty foyer. The only two people standing there made the room feel smaller, made it feel like the walls were caving in around you. And you felt like you’d be crushed to nothing at any second.

You gripped the wall and tried not to black out from the room that was spinning. You couldn’t. Not yet. You had to see this. You had to be sure he wouldn’t betray you like that. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. You knew him so well, probably better than anyone else now. He wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t.

She cleared her throat and smiled sweetly at Joel as he was bent over, scaling the wall, looking intently at something he was fixing. His eyes shot up at her muffled breath and he slowly stood, his eyes furrowing together into question.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a confused tone, his eyes never straying down her body.

“You sure can,” she purred as she bit the end of her lower lip seductively, staring at him with big flirtatious eyes. You’d like to walk up to her and strangle her right about now. But you waited. You needed to see what he’d do. You just had to.

“Ummm, okay? Is somethin’ broken in the auditorium?” he asked as he scratched his head, his tone serious and face stonelike.

She shook her head. “No, nothing’s broken,” she giggled, twirling a loose curl around her index finger as she stuck out of her hip, jutting her breasts out more.

That fucking bitch. Your tongue tasted like pure venom, full of spite and fluid that ripped at your insides. You wanted to pull her to the ground and claw her eyes out. You hated her, you hated her.

“Then why are you talkin’ to me?” he asked with an irritated tone in his voice. He wasn’t playing her sick, twisted game. He was starting to catch on.

“You see, I’ve got these really tight hips and I would love to get them stretched out,” she purred, reaching out her long, spindly fingers to him. He stepped back out of her reach appalled.

“Sounds like a you problem. Should probably get that fixed yourself,” he spat, clenching his jaw as you saw irritation flash through his dark eyes.

“Come on. I know you want to. Help a girl out? Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” she giggled, grazing her hand against his forearm, right where the bundled veins gathered around his tan skin, lapping over his massive hands. The sight made you sick. You felt like you were about to spill your guts and vomit right on the polished floor. No, no, no.

He pulled out of her grasp and glared daggers into her eyes. “Don’t touch me,” he barked, moving his arm out of her reach. “Back off. Now leave. I have work to do.” He started to turn away, but she made a move again. Reaching out her dirty paws, she tried her luck again.

“Oh, come onnnnn. I mean. You’re kinda hot. Think you’d wanna…”

“Cecilia!” Your voice came out sharp, clipped, like a galant sword about to take her down. You stepped out of the shadows and stomped her way, moving in between the two of them so you could glare knives into her glowing eyes. “Don’t,” you warned, narrowing your eyes so tight that you could barely see her flashy smile that was beaming your way.

“Oh, don’t take it so hard, little swan,” she teased, smirking your way. “I was only having a little fun.” She crossed her arms and taunted you, her green eyes searing into your vision.

“Having fun?” you laughed, hatred clear in your tone. “You knew what you were doing. You fucking knew,” you snapped. It’s like your temper cracked in half and all your built up anger rose to your throat. It burned like fire, and you wanted to spit it back out at her and watch it burn her alive.

“Maybe I did know. Just wanted to see what would happen is all,” she sneered, her smirk returning in full force as she challenged you with her fake press-on pink nails and her balmy lip gloss that you wanted to wipe right off her face.

The more she stared and the more she smirked, the more heated you got. You were snarling with wide eyes and bared teeth. She gave you that mischievous smile and that was it. You were going to fucking kill her.

You jumped out at her with full force and let a loud roar rip through your chest as you let all your built up frustration let loose. She stepped back out of your reach, and Joel grabbed you around the waist before you could get to her. You tried to pull out of his tight hold, but his grasp was too strong. You weren’t going anywhere. He pulled you against his broad chest and tried to soothe you over.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. That’s what she wants. She wants to get a reaction out of you. She wants you to lash out at her,” Joel urged with a loud, gravely voice. His biceps pulled tight around you as he clung to you, making sure you didn’t do something you’d regret later. You tried once more to free yourself, but you gave up. He was right. This is what she wanted. She wanted to get you kicked out of the ballet. She wanted to ruin your life. And you wouldn’t let that happen.

“Cecilia, if you ever try anything like that again I’ll…”

She cut you off as she held up her fresh manicured hand, dusting it off on her black leotard as she smirked again. “You’ll do what? Go cry to Carlotta about it? Like she’ll do anything. The old hag can barely keep track of all her dancers,” she laughed out, a sinister smile spreading across her plump lips.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Joel growled, arms still pressed against your ribcage as he held you in place, your heart beating wildly against his forearm.

“No, I don’t think so,” she glared, her lips pressed in a tight line as if she were challenging you all over again. You’d had enough of her. You wanted her gone, now.

“Just leave me alone!” you shouted, tears licking at the backs of your eyes as you felt the frustration breaking inside you.

“No,” she said sharply, her pointe shoe stomping down as if to stand her ground. She was pathetic, a royal pain in your ass.

“Did you not hear what I said? I said get the fuck out of here. Now!” Joel barked, his eyes growing cold and sharp as he stared at her, demanding her to leave.

“No, I-”

Joel’s icy words shut her up quick. “If you don’t go back into that auditorium now and leave her alone, then I’m gonna have words with your instructor. You see, you kept pursuing me when I said to back off. You put your hands on me when I specifically told you no. That can be passed as sexual harassment. Do you really want me to go in there and lay out exactly what happened for Carlotta?”

Your eyes grew wide at what he was insinuating. That’d get her kicked out of the show. Unless Carlotta didn’t believe him or care. She probably wouldn’t care, but still. Oh my God.

Her scowl grew a mile long on her face as her green eyes became red and enraged. “You wouldn’t dare. You don’t have proof. You don’t have-”

“I have proof enough and I have a witness,” he said with bared teeth. She just crossed her arms over her chest and stared wide-eyed. “So I suggest you turn around and walk back through those doors and never try to mess with my girl or me again,” he growled possessively, his deep voice like knives as they cut into her.

She just scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. What makes her so fucking special though, huh?” she asked as she jutted her chin out and dragged her tongue across her top teeth.

“Everything,” he answered, his voice coming out not as harsh that time, but it was aggressive, unhesitant.

Everything? Oh. Your eyes went wide and your muscles relaxed against his hold. He thought everything was special about you? Oh. Oh my…

“Whatever. I’m out of here,” she spat as she turned around and walked back through the auditorium doors, watching them snap shut with a bang behind her.

You stood there for a minute, staring at the unmoving heavy door as it stood closed before you, waiting for your breath to catch again. Joel turned you around to face him and dropped his tight hold on you. “What the fuck was that all about? I mean, Christ. First Pierre, now her?” he asked with wild eyes, his hands digging into the pockets of his dark jeans as he sighed and shook his head.

“She likes to get a rise out of me. Pierre pushed her to do it. I saw them whispering in each other’s ears and stared at me the entire time. I just didn’t know what they were planning. I didn’t know they were going to bring you into the middle of all this,” you sputtered out as you threw your hands in the air and slapped them back down against your thighs as the clap sounded through the empty foyer with high ceilings and sky high windows as the sun beamed through them.

“She’s jus’ jealous of you, sweetheart. Seems like she wants to take everything that’s yours just because she can’t have it,” he acknowledged with bared teeth, his caramel eyes swirling with anger as he talked about her.

“Sounds about right,” you muttered, eyes focusing on the shiny white tile.

“Is everyone here just batshit crazy? Why can’t they jus’ leave you alone?” he snarled as his eyebrows furrowed, pushing back the locks of his tousled curls.

“Because that’d be too easy,” you said clipped, clenching your jaw around nothing.

“I’m gonna go in there right now and give them a piece of my mind,” he spat as he tried to push past you, but you got in front of him and held a hand to his broad chest to stop him.

“No, don’t. It’s fine. You’ve done enough. I’m the reason why you’re in the middle of all of this. Me. I don’t want you to be dragged into anymore drama. I already feel bad enough.” Your eyes locked on his as he held your stare and placed a hand gently down on yours that was still locked on his chest.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. This wasn’t any of your doing. It was theirs,” he growled, flicking his eyes harshly to the closed auditorium doors as he looked back at you with softer features. “Let me take care of this.”

Let me take care of this. He always took care of you, always. You couldn’t let him take on anymore of the theater shit. It was on your shoulders, not his. And right now you felt like nothing but a massive burden that was weighing him down.

You froze in the spot you stood in and widened your eyes at the realization. Burden. You were being a burden to Joel. You didn’t want that. You didn’t fucking want to be a burden to anyone, especially not him. He was too good for you, he always took care of things. So when was it your turn to take those burdens from him? When was it time to stop piling problems on him that were all made from a company that was supposed to be your dream job?!

“No,” you stated harshly. He looked down at you and knit his eyebrows together, giving you those concerned molasses honey eyes that made you weak at the knees. Not those eyes. God, anything but those eyes. “Just, don’t do that.”

“Why not?” he asked as he guided his other hand down to your wrist, stroking his calloused thumb against the edge of your skin as he tried to soothe you over.

“Because…because…” You paused a moment and then whispered under your breath. “I’m a burden.”

“What did you say?” he asked with a shocked expression, eyes wide at what he thought you said.

“I’m being a burden, Joel,” you said louder, your voice echoing across the empty foyer walls and vibrating back to you as you looked at the polished floor, your eyes fading just a little.

“Hey, look at me.” He grabbed your chin and pulled your eyes up to his. His breathing came out more ragged and concentrated as he stared at you, brown eyes searing into yours. “Don’t you dare ever call yourself a burden again. You’re not one at all.”

You shook your head no, so he put his massive hands on your shoulders and focused right on you, never leaving your eyes. “Hey, c’mon. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he said more gently, one hand coming to cup your cheek as tears threatened to spill at any second.

You could feel the anxiety bubbling up inside you, could feel your insides screaming at you as they taunted you. Burden, burden, burden. That’s all you’ll ever be to him. You shook your head of the thoughts, but they kept coming, attacking unseen as they picked apart your mind. You’re no good for him. You’re a burden, you’re drama, you’re fragile. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t need that.

You felt yourself start to tear apart piece by little piece. Every scrap of skin felt on fire as the voices of anxiety screamed at you. You couldn’t do this right now. You needed to get out of here. You needed to be alone, you needed to run.

You pulled away slowly from Joel, but he caught your wrist and found your glassy eyes as they stared past him, trying not to think of him because you were about to lose it. “Hey, sunshine. Baby,” he reached out and skimmed your jawline with the edge of his fingers. It felt like fire that just burned your skin raw. You couldn’t do this right now. You just couldn’t.

“Don’t,” you said quietly as you pulled again. His grip didn’t budge. He kept you locked to his hand.

“Don’t what? Talk to me. Please, baby. Let me in,” he pleaded as his eyes glazed over into pools of sadness.

Oh God, why did you have to see that.

“Please, Joel. Just let me go,” you begged, tears licking at your waterline as his face became a bit blurry.

“No. I’m not gonna let you go. Just talk to me,” he pressed, eyes searching yours for anything he could pick up on.

“I just, I…” You lost your words as the guilt started eating you alive. Burden, burden, burden. Your chest became tight, and it felt like you were being suffocated inside your tight leotard. The room felt like it was spinning as your eyesight went in and out, black vision to normal vision. It was awful how you were feeling. You were feeling everything at once and you were overstimulated and it was just too much. It was too much.

“Baby, please,” he begged. And when you looked back up at him it hit you like a thick brick wall. His watering eyes shot a hole right into the center of your chest. You could physically feel the pain throbbing around you as he looked at you with those longing, searching eyes. He looked so sad. So sad.

“Joel…I…” you pulled your hand from his, slowly. So painfully slow. And he let you this time. He didn’t try to stop you. When you grazed your fingers against his fingertips and finally dropped your hand from his warmth, the room went ice cold. And it felt like you lost him right then and there.

You bit your tongue and pulled yourself together just enough to walk towards the auditorium door, every step further from Joel feeling like straight glass cutting through your feet. It was painful, excruciating. But you needed to be alone. You needed to breathe. But it felt like you were drowning without his touch, suffocating on your own words as your mouth filled with water and took you down. The voices in your head were too loud, too much. You needed silence, you needed peace.

You put your hand on the cold metal handle, and before you went through the door Joel said your name slowly, a mere gentle whisper. And it sounded like a voice that was full of pain and suffering. You bit your bottom lip and worked up enough courage to look him in the eyes again. It was a mistake. God, it was a mistake. His jaw was clenched and his hands were in fists at his side, and his brown eyes looked like big puppy dog eyes. Staring at its owner as they left him all alone in an empty house, solely alone.

You felt a wet tear fall against your cheek and quickly wiped it off. Joel took a step forward when he saw you brush a tear away, but you held out a hand and stopped him. “Please, Joel. Just leave me alone. I need to…I need to go back in…”

“Stay,” he pleaded, a hushed whisper that glided across the room and brushed against the tip of your ear.

“I can’t…I have to go. Just, please. I…I need some air.” Before you looked back at him, you pushed the door open and ran through the shadows to your tiny dressing room, brushing up against the velvet walls as you nearly tripped up the stage steps and zoomed past all the dancers. When you reached your dressing room, you grabbed up your iPhone and sprinted out the side theater door.

You crashed through the metal door and flung yourself against the cold brick wall as you slowly melted into the ground, bringing the phone up to your face to unlock it. You quickly found your mom’s name in your contacts and pushed call. You needed to hear her soothing voice now. You needed your mom. You needed to know everything was going to be fine. But it wasn’t. It simply wasn’t.

You slumped your head against the hard bricks and listened to the dial tone as it repeatedly rang. Come on, pick up. Please, pick up. You needed familiarity, you needed comfort, you needed your mom.

On the seventh ring, she finally picked up and you blew out the breath you had been holding in. “Hi, sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you. I wasn’t expecting you to call so early in the day. What’s up, sweetie? How is everything in New York? Are you having such an incredible time?” she asked excitedly as her high pitched voice filled the end of the line.

No, no it wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. “Hey, mom,” you said in a shaky breath. “Everything is…well, it’s…” Your voice cut off as you choked back a sob.

“Hun, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked in a worried rush of words. You could hear that protective mother instinct kick in, and it still didn’t bring you any peace.

“I’m…” your voice broke as you choked out a gasp. “No, I’m not okay,” you balled, tears breaking as they streamed down your face in a blur. You wiped at your eyes and saw the mascara and eyeliner rub off on your hand, forgetting you even had makeup on. You didn’t care if your makeup was ruined, you didn’t care if eyeliner was streaked under your eyes. You were broken, so very broken.

You didn’t get into the thick of it, but you told her enough. You told her what was bothering you and what was happening. You didn’t mention Joel, not once saying you met someone. The mere thought of him made you cry harder, and it felt like your heart actually shattered into a million pieces. Joel…

“Mom, I want to come home,” you cried into the phone speaker, tears sticking to your thick eyelashes as your vision was completely blurred over. You could hear her on the end of the line saying your name and calling you honey as she tried to calm you down. But it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

You stayed on the line with her for ten minutes and then decided it was time to hang up. You had to go back in. Carlotta would be looking for you right about now. So you said your goodbyes to your mom, and she assured you she’d be in touch later to check on you. When you hung up the phone, you pulled your camera up and cringed at the mess that was displayed in the screen. Black streaks smeared under your eyes. You looked exactly like the black swan, felt like the black swan. You were the black swan. You felt it in your hollow bones. You were weak, fragile, consumed by darkness, and you felt completely isolated and alone right now.

You wiped the smeared makeup away and sucked in the last tears that stung your eyes. You pulled yourself up from the cold ground and headed back inside to your demise. Your cage that liked to trap lone swans.

“There you are! Come on now. You’re up. Take your position, black swan. It’s time for your duet with Pierre,” Carlotta yelled as she clapped her hands and pointed at you to take your position.

As you got into position, you looked up at Pierre on the opposite side of the stage as you and watched his cruel smirk flash your way. All you felt was hollow and bruised inside. You had no more emotions to run through today. You were finished, dead inside like a tree that had just been ripped from its roots. Automatically dying on the spot.

When the music began, you ran through the routine like a puppet attached to a short string. There was no fighting, no bickering, just silence. You had no more words to speak today. You were battered and bruised, and there could be nothing else done. Absolutely nothing. You just wanted to go back to your apartment and go to sleep. Sleep away the pain of the day.

You went through the rest of rehearsal quietly, just doing as you were told. You didn’t argue with anyone, didn’t flinch when they said jump higher or spin tighter. You just did it without a fuss. Just like a robot would.

You could feel Joel’s dark eyes burning holes through your skull throughout the rest of practice. You didn’t look up, didn’t seek out his eyes. You just ignored the call. That drawn out reaching call that you longed to take.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

You wanted him. You wanted him so goddamn bad, but the voices were screaming at you that you weren't good enough for him. They were taunting you and screeching at you through your racing mind. You’re no good for him, you’re just a burden. He doesn’t want to be with a burden, he doesn’t want to be weighed down by you. Let him go, let him go.

You tossed the voices out of your head and silenced your mind. You couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t right now. Not with the anxiety pumping. Not with the mess you had to deal with today. So when practice finally got over, you slipped out the back and didn't seek out Joel. You just walked to your apartment alone, back to your lonely walls. But you didn’t want to be there. Not really. You wanted to go home. You needed to go back home.

Home. It was the only place you wanted to be right now. And that was away from New York. Away from it all.

When you finally reached your apartment and barged through the door, you took a long, hot shower and let the scalding water run down your back until you couldn’t feel anything. Your thoughts were numb, but they kept returning to Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You wanted him, needed him, but you couldn’t reach out. You didn’t have the energy, nor the strength. So after your shower, you just tucked yourself into the warm bed and let the cotton sheets envelop your tired body. You heard your phone buzz over and over again, the vibrations reaching all the way into your tight chest. But you just let it ring as it sat face down on your little sky blue nightstand, waiting for the light hum of the phone to go mute.

After endless minutes of diminishing buzzing and missed calls, you faded off into a deep sleep. Away from the pain, away from the racing anxiety, away from the deep black hole you were stuck in. And when you dreamed, you dreamed of white sandy beaches and shiny clear ocean water. You dreamed of home. That’s where you wanted to be, needed to be. So that’s where you’d go.

Joel barely got a wink of sleep that night. He was either pacing mindlessly around his house, staring at a blank phone screen or worrying sick about you as his mind raced frantically. You didn’t pick up the phone, wouldn’t look at him, didn’t say a word when you left the theater. And now all he could think was you were slipping away from him, just like the moment you gradually pulled away from his fingers as you walked back into the auditorium without a mere glance back at him. That’s what it felt like. Complete loss, like he was missing pieces of his beating heart that had your name scraped into the pumping veins in his chest.

The next morning he waited for you outside the theater doors, but you didn’t come. He kept glancing at his black military watch, but you were half an hour late. You were never late, and that made worry seep into his thick skull. He dialed your number, but it just rang endlessly and finally went to voicemail.

He hung up the phone and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, pushing the doors open as he raced into the auditorium. Maybe you snuck in from the side doors, maybe you got there earlier than he did. He was just wishful thinking, but it was better than thinking the alternative, that you weren’t coming.

Carlotta sat at the front of the auditorium like she usually did, lounging in a plush crimson seat as she yelled at the other dancers. “Where is my swan?!” she screamed as she threw her arms over her head, shaking her auburn ponytail in annoyance. The sound of her voice made Joel shake in rage as he fisted his hands at his sides and almost broke a blood vessel as he walked up to her with a deep snarl cut across his mouth.

“Have any of you heard from her?” she yelled at the dancers, but none of them shook their head yes. “We don’t have time for this! Let me check my phone.” She pulled her phone out and searched through her notifications. Her face turned to shock as she put a hand dramatically against her forehead. “Sick?! She’s sick! We don’t have time for sick days,” she whined, letting out a deep sigh of unapproval. It made Joel even more angry.

He walked up to her aggressively as he stomped his boots and halted right in front of her, glaring at her with dark, unfriendly eyes. She jumped in fright and put her hand on her chest as her long red fingernails dug into her pressed white dress. “Oh, you scared me! I didn’t see you standing there. Where is she? Have you heard from her?” she demanded as her red lips pursed together in a tight seal.

“I know as much as you do. I haven’t heard from her since yesterday. You said she told you she’s sick?” Joel asked with a raised brow.

“That’s what I just read,” she huffed, throwing her phone back in her Coach purse. “I don’t care if she’s sick. She needs to be here,” she demanded, her heels stomping into the polished floor.

“Jesus Christ, give her a break! She’s completely worn out. She’s overworked. Do you know how stressed she’s been lately?” he vocalized with a raised voice and a deep growl in his chest.

“Overworked? Stressed? She looks fine to me,” she said as she rolled her eyes and shook her head with agitation.

“That’s because you don’t check to see how she’s feeling! Maybe if you paid more attention to your dancers then you’d see she’s fucking drowning!” he yelled with his voice bouncing off the walls. All the dancers stopped what they were doing and focused in on the heated conversation going on. He didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his point across. Carlotta would listen to him, whether she wanted to or not.

Her eyes were wide-eyed as she stared up at him, her cheeks flushed as her mouth gaped open in surprise. “What are you talking about? Of course I pay attention to my dancers.”

He crossed his arms across the button-up denim shirt and clenched his jaw before he lost control of his growing temper. “Oh, really? Then you know everyone is against her in this theater? That Pierre and Cecilia won’t leave her alone for one goddamn day? You know that she’s been so fuckin’ stressed and anxious that she’s had continuous breakdowns about even being here? Because no one seems to care how she’s feelin’ but me!” His voice echoed around the auditorium as his flared eyes shot daggers right back at her. Her mouth opened wide as she looked like someone just turned on a dusty lightbulb inside her nonchalant mind. And that was good because maybe now she’d realize just what she did to you.

“I suggest you start treating your lead dancer with more respect and not working her to death. You’re gonna destroy her before she even gets to opening night. And as for your dancers, tell them to fuckin’ stop giving her a hard time. Especially Pierre and Cecilia. If you even halfway listened to her instead of being stuck in your own thick head, you would’ve noticed all the shit they were doing to her! So next time, listen to her when she’s desperately trying to get your attention and do something about the situation!”

Her eyes went wide as something snapped into place inside her. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked at the stage and back at Joel. Maybe he finally got her to open her eyes and hear what you were trying to tell her all along. Maybe he struck a nerve that opened up that empty mind of hers. She didn’t turn around when he started walking to the auditorium doors, but he heard her call Pierre and Cecilia’s voice impatiently. He didn’t wait to hear what was said, he just kept on walking out of that toxic room, leaving behind more drama that was ready to unfold.

Joel was tempted to run to her apartment, pound on the door until you opened up so he could crash his body into yours. He wanted you to know it was going to be okay. He needed you to know you weren’t alone and never would be. He needed you to know how goddamn much he cared about you. He needed you to know you were now his world and that he’d never let you go. Never, ever. But he kept himself from running to you. He just kept his distance for today. You’d reach out if you really needed him. You needed space, time. But he didn’t want to give that to you. He was selfish and wanted you all to himself. He wanted to make it all better, to take away all the pain.

He sighed and ran a hand through his wind blown curls and took a deep breath, focusing on slowing down his racing heart. One day, just one more day and then he’d go to you. If you weren’t here in the morning, he’d go find you. And when he did, he would never let you go again.

You kept your phone turned over most of the day, only clicking it on to let Carlotta know you wouldn’t be in today, that you were sick. You weren’t really sick though. You just needed a mental break, to think about what you were going to do. You needed time, you needed to get away. You needed a quiet mind, but you were screaming on the inside. Trying to claw your way out of your racing thoughts as you sat in your small vacant apartment, picking apart your mind.

All the missed calls and texts from Joel didn’t help you one bit. Six missed calls and three text messages since yesterday.

Where are you?

Are you alright?

Sunshine, talk to me. Please, let me know you’re alright.

The last one made you shiver with guilt and made your eyes burn with tears.

Joel, Joel, Joel. Fuck!

You crawled your way out of bed and forced yourself to eat some yogurt and get dressed, throwing on some yoga pants and a teal colored Florida hoodie.

You dragged your tired legs into the bathroom and switched the light on, squinting your eyes at the harsh yellow light that lit the room up in warm colors. You cringed at your swollen eyes and puffy lips as you spent hours crying into your pillow the night before. You washed your face and brushed your teeth as you let the minty taste wash down your throat, trying to bring some life back into your aching body. You brushed out your thick hair and threw on some eyeliner to deter the look of your puffed up eyes.

You couldn’t stay caged in this cold room anymore. You needed to get out. You needed to free your internal thoughts before you went crazy. So you grabbed your keys and phone and headed out the door, taking in the fresh air as you slipped into the cool autumn breeze. You walked for miles it seemed, only to end up sitting at a little park that overlooked a duck pond as water lilies sat scattered across the shimmering water.

You let your mind wonder as you sat there, focusing on keeping deep breaths and your head cleared. You lost track of time and forgot your phone was even in your pocket. You pulled it out and looked at the time. 5:00 pm and no new calls or texts. Only the ones you left unanswered from earlier.

Joel’s messages popped up again, and you couldn’t quite shake the guilt of leaving him waiting. He was probably worried sick about you, probably going stir crazy as he paced his house or the theater. Probably looked all over for you today, hoping he’d see you that morning. The guilt ate at your stomach, twisting it around into a bundle of yarn as it tugged at you, pulling you back into anxious thoughts.

Sunshine, talk to me. Please, let me know you’re alright.

Sunshine, sunshine, sunshine.

You squeezed your eyes tight as the name pulled at your heartstrings, eliciting feelings out of you that you wanted to keep down. You were bad for him, a burden, a sickness that would only infect him. But that wasn’t really true. It was your anxiety lying to you. It was the sharp tongued serpent that fed you lies and shot venom into your bloodstream. It was a disease that festered in your mind until you could do nothing but listen to the poison that consumed your mind. But this time you wouldn’t. No. You wouldn’t listen. You’d force them out if it was the last thing you did.

Sunshine, come back. Come back…

You swear you could hear his southern drawl calling you, singing you a gentle tune as his sweet voice tried guiding you back to him. Back to his arms. Back to where you felt most at home. And the more you stared at his name in your phone, the more you wanted him. The more you needed him.

A tightness in your chest squeezed at your insides as you ached for him. Every bone carving his name into the tendons as you physically, truly ached for him. You longed for him, burned for him. And you needed him. You needed him more than you needed air to breathe. He was your oxygen, your fresh air, your everything. And you lo…

You loved him.

And that’s when you ran. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you. You didn’t know how far it was from here, didn’t even care how long it’d take. But you’d continue running until you got to his doorstep, wouldn’t stop till you were back in his arms where you belonged.

You crossed the busy intersection as a taxi slammed on its horn, nearly missing you by a few feet. You didn't stop to apologize, you just kept going. You brushed shoulders and ran into strangers on the crowded sidewalk. Some yelled back at you, some stopped and stared, but you kept pressing on, not wasting a second until you were standing on his doorstep with him.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire, and you could feel your legs going numb underneath you. But you wouldn’t stop, not till you made it back to him. Your tears licked at the back of your eyes as you thought of the way you left him yesterday, letting your anxious thoughts get the best of you. You had made a mistake, that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him and only him, and you just hoped you weren’t too late. You prayed he’d welcome you back with open arms. You needed him, you needed him.

Joel, Joel, Joel. Your other half, your guiding light, the one that set your soul on fire. It was Joel, it was always Joel. “I’m coming, Joel. I’m coming back to you,” you whispered into the cold air as your throat caught fire.

You rounded the corner and instantly saw Joel’s Chevy sitting parked up against the curb. He’s here, he’s here. You could feel him as much as you could feel your racing heartbeat against your ribcage. You sprinted over to his concrete steps out of breath and climbed them, grasping the railing tight as you knelt over and caught your breath. Your breaths were shallow and ragged and it felt like you had gotten the wind knocked out of your body.

You gripped the railing tightly and your knuckles turned white as you stared at the large door ahead of you with the frayed welcome mat covering the front step. Joel. You imagined him pacing the floor unevenly as he stared at his phone, waiting for you to call back. The thought of it nearly took you out as you stumbled toward the front door.

After finally catching your breath, you gulped down some invisible liquid courage and nodded. This was it. This was the moment that would put your anxious thoughts to bed. You were about to find out if he really thought you were a burden or not.

You slowly lifted your arm and knocked twice on the sturdy door, making sure the force was just enough to be loud and sharp. You heard some rustling around in the house, and it didn’t take him long before he was unlocking the door and pulling it open frantically as his form came into view.

His eyes went wide, and he let out the loudest sigh you’d ever heard come out of his mouth, like he was relieved to see you. But behind his eyes looked a whole lot like pain. Behind those beautiful honey colored eyes. He said your name slowly, the southern accent getting stuck on your syllables as his voice came out smooth and silky against your name. The sound alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes. And you felt them then. You felt the wave of tears lick the backs of your eyes as they swelled up to your waterline, threatening to break at any moment.

You gulped and stared up into those mesmerizing brown eyes, feeling your bottom lip quiver as you tried to say something, anything. But you were frozen in place, your anxious thoughts coursing through you like a rush of pure adrenaline. You left him, you left him. Your fault, your fault.

“Joel, I… I’m so… I’m s-sorry, I…” Your composure broke in two as you felt the hot tears run down your face, blurring your vision so you could barely see his slack jaw and watering eyes.

“Oh, sunshine. Baby. C’mere,” he drawled as he crashed against your body and pulled you into his broad chest, enveloping his arms strongly against your back as one hand went to cradle the back of your head. You snaked your arms around him and crushed your face to his chest, letting the hot tears wash over his button-up denim shirt.

You cried harder, sinking as far into him as you could, and he just held onto you tighter as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “Shhh it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he cooed, digging his fingers through your hair as he held you as tight as he could.

He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the couch safely. Your muffled sobs got strangled as you buried yourself in his chest, and he just pulled you closer when he sat back against the velvet cushions. “S’alright now, you’re safe,” he soothed as he ran a hand through your locks, feeling a blanket of comfort cover you as he held you tightly in his arms.

You wiped hot tears from your eyes off on your hoodie and looked up at Joel with a quivering lip as you spoke slowly. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t call and that I ran out. I was just so… I was being a burden and…”

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he cupped your chin and wiped a falling tear away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it down your jaw as he trailed it slowly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Ya don’t have to apologize. S’alright. And you’re not a burden. Not at all,” he said as he shook his head lightly, his eyes gazing down at yours with a look of serenity washing over you slowly.

“That’s how I feel though. Like I’m just a problem and…”

He put his index finger up against your faded chapstick and silenced you from finishing your sentence. “You’re not a problem, sweetheart. You were never the problem. Trust me when I say you’re not a burden. You’re so much more than that. So much,” he said gently as he grazed the tip of his finger against your bottom lip, pulling his eyes down to your lips as he contemplated his options. He looked back up into your eyes and smiled gently, letting his other hand graze your back as he soothed you, pulling you into that calm place that you wanted to be in again.

“You’re… you’re so good to me, Joel. I… I don’t deserve you,” you blubbered with tears stinging at the backs of your eyes, your vision going blurry again.

“No. It’s you I don’t deserve. You’re such an angel, my sweet girl,” he murmured with a soft kiss as he pressed his lips to your forehead and pulled you back into his chest, running his thick fingers down your hair and your back as you melted into his touch.

Joel. Joel. Joel. He was the one, he was the one.

He cradled you on his lap for a few minutes as he just held you, soothing you gently as he placed gentle kisses to the top of your head and ran his calloused fingers up and down your arms. It was like a piece of heaven that was made just for you.

You started shivering against him as the cold from outside returned in full force. You could feel it down to your bones as the adrenaline finally tapered off. Joel noticed immediately and reacted just like you knew he would.

“Hey, you alright? You’re shaking so much. You cold, sweetheart?” he asked with concern expanding across his honey eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I stayed out a lot longer than I thought. Didn’t realize how cold it was,” you said, shaking in his arms.

“Well, c’mon. Let’s get you in the tub. I’ll put on some warm water for you.” He moved you gently out of his lap and pulled you up with him, leading you into the lit up bathroom as the smell of lavender and bath soap filled the air.

He grabbed some fresh towels and placed a pile of clean clothes against the edge of the counter. Wasting no time, he started filling the large jetted tub with warm water as you heard the water rush to life from the pipes. He placed his hand in every few seconds to test the water temperature, and when it was to his liking he nodded.

“Alright, sunshine. Water’s all ready for ya. I’ll get out of your hair so you can relax a little.”

Before he passed you by, you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving any further. “Will you stay with me?” you asked quietly, not wanting him to leave you alone.

He slowly turned and looked at you with gentle eyes, his tan skin beaming against the fluorescent bathroom lights. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whatever you need,” he nodded, gently smiling down at you.

You quickly got undressed, throwing your clothes in a pile beneath the sink as you slipped into the tub, letting the hot water soothe your aching bones as you sat down into the steaming water.

Joel kept his distance, training his eyes on you as he watched you grab the plush washcloth and soak it under the water, grabbing the soap bar from the edge of the tub. Your eyes kept flicking up to his as he watched you while he leaned up against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest, breathing slowly as he kept his focus on you.

There was something in the way he was looking at you. Just a small tug in your chest that told you he really cared about you, that he wanted you to be okay. He was there to make sure you had everything you needed. But one thing was missing and that was him being in the tub with you.

You fluttered your eyelashes up at him as you shifted in the tub, feeling the warm water splash around your breasts. “Joel?” you asked shakily.

“Hmm?”

“Do you… will you come take a bath with me?” you asked nervously as you tugged a loose lock behind your ear as your eyes shot up to meet his.

His face relaxed into a small smile as he pulled off his watch and took a couple steps your way. “‘Course I will, baby. Scoot up for me.” He pulled his button-up off quickly. His jeans and briefs following next as he climbed into the tub behind you, pulling you close to his broad chest as he circled his arms around you and reached for your washcloth, lathering soap onto the damp material.

You relaxed into him as he washed your back gently, dragging the material over the length of you as you groaned at the feeling of his calloused hands and light touch all over you. You did the same for him, gliding the soapy washcloth over the wingspan of his back, pulling it down his muscled chest as you grazed your lips over his, sealing the distance as you climbed into his lap and let your body sink against him.

He held you close as his hand ran up and down your back in slow circles, placing tender kisses against your lips, your jawline, your neck. He was being so gentle with you, so soft, so… loving.

There was that word again. Love. God, you loved him. You loved him so painfully much. You could feel it in the room, feel it in the air, feel it on his breath as it crashed against yours when your lips slotted against his. You could feel it in his hands, feel it on the tip of his tongue, taste it in your mouth. It was like floating in air with a warm, gentle breeze blowing through your hair in the middle of a summer day. It was like fire. Hot, burning, passionate as it simmered through your body, unfaltering and never burning out. And you could feel it coming off him as well, that hot fire that was calling your name.

“Joel?” you asked quietly as you trailed your fingers through his patchy scruff, feeling your heart hammering against your chest as the blood rushed through your veins.

“Yeah?” he asked as he looked down into your face, those big doe eyes gazing back at you as the breath was taken from you. He was so beautiful, so devastatingly beautiful.

“I love you…” you whispered, hearing your voice echo around the room as he let out a gentle sigh, his eyes melting into syrup as he looked at you with pure love in his eyes. You’d never seen him look at you like that before. His face in pure bliss and contentment as he ran his calloused fingers against your jawline.

“Oh, sunshine. My sweet girl. I’ve loved you since the first day I met you,” he breathed out, his face beaming as he smiled down at you and let a soft chuckle out. “They always say a man knows when he’s found the one. I just had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. This aching feeling that pulled me toward you. And I’m so glad I listened to my gut because it was right. I knew all along.”

You choked back tears and looked up at him with the most sincere gaze you had ever given anyone before. This was real, this was really happening. He loved you, he loved you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips against his as you melted into him. The kiss was slow, soft, romantic. A kiss that was screaming love as it poured out of you and enveloped all of him. This was it. You were in love, and he loved you too. So, so much.

After the bath and your love confessions, he wrapped you in a warm towel and helped you dry off, getting all the beads of dripping water off your body. You pulled on one of his long red flannel shirts and crawled into his soft bed where he gathered you against his chest and brought the fleece blanket over the both of you. You slowly trailed your fingers over his bare chest, and he ran his fingers up and down your arm, showering you with warmth and tenderness. It was perfect, he was perfect.

“You know I was really worried about you today, sunshine,” he murmured, his voice coming off low. “When you didn’t show up to the theater and when you didn’t answer your phone. I thought something bad happened.” His grip on you tightened, and you could feel his chest sigh heavily as he continued stroking your arm.

“I’m sorry I worried you. I just couldn’t get myself to do anything or talk to anyone. My anxiety was screaming so loud that I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts in my head. All I know is how bad I wanted to run to you. And l’ll never stop apologizing for disappearing without a word. I wanted you so bad, Joel. So bad. I just… I just freaked out. I had a panic attack and…”

“Shhhh. S’okay, sweetheart. It’s all okay now. You’re safe and that’s all that matters.” He brushed his lips against the top of your head and entwined his fingers into yours as you closed your eyes and sank against his chest.

It was quiet for a few minutes until you spoke again. “I’m gonna go home this weekend. Just for a couple days. I called my mom yesterday and told her everything, and she bought me a plane ticket right after. Thought it was a good idea to get out of New York so I could clear my head.”

Joel shifted underneath you, and you looked up at him and saw a small smile spread across his beautiful face. “I think that’s a great idea, and it’ll be really good for you. I can drop ya off at the airport if you’d like,” he said as he trailed his fingers through your hair gently.

“I’d like nothing more,” you smiled. He returned it right back to you. “I wish I could take you with me,” you sighed.

He trailed the pad of his thumb against the backside of your hand and chuckled under his breath. “Maybe next time.”

You squeezed his hand and wrapped your other arm around his forearm as you pulled it toward you. “I’m definitely taking you next time,” you promised.

“I can’t wait.” His smile made his eyes crinkle, and it made your heart beat that much more for him.

“You know, I gave Carlotta a mouthful today,” he said with a clenched jaw as his voice came out gravely.

You lifted your head up and looked him in the eyes as you gulped down the lump in your throat. “You did?”

“Mhm. Think I knocked some sense into that oblivious brain of hers. Before I walked out of the auditorium, she was calling over those two fuckers,” he said with rage building in his throat.

“Oh,” was all you could say before you rested your head back against his chest as you tried to not let your mind wonder to Pierre and Cecilia. He must’ve felt the shift in your mood because he reached out and called your name softly.

“You know, there’s cameras set up in the auditorium. I know the security guy that runs them. I think I could get him to make me a copy of Pierre when he…” He gulped down some anger, and you could feel the growl audibly deep in his chest. “When he hit you and pushed you down,” he said with hatred in his voice. “If I can get my hands on that video, I’m gonna turn him in. Give Carlotta the real proof she needs to get rid of him.”

You gasped as you looked up at him with wide eyes, staring unbelievably at him at the words that just came from his mouth. “You think it’ll work? You think she’d actually kick him out?” you asked with shock falling from your lips.

“Maybe. It’s worth a shot, so I’m gonna try my best. Because if you choose to stay there for the next two months, I don’t want you suffering every day you’re there. I don’t wanna see the life taken from those pretty eyes of yours. I wanna see them shine, just like you always do. You shine as bright as Sirius does in the sky. Maybe even brighter than that star. You’re one of a kind, angel. And I want to see you sparkling.”

“Joel…” you whispered out, the look of love plastered all over your face. “You’re so… perfect. No one’s ever cared like you do…” You let your voice trail off, caught in a daze between love and complete bliss.

“And I’m gonna keep takin’ care of ya, sunshine. My perfect girl. My love.” He cupped your chin and brought his lips down on yours slowly as you sank into him, crawling on top of him so you could brush your fingers through his tousled curls.

He pulled back and smiled down at you. “Not even the galaxies in the sky could shine as bright as you, baby. You’re one of a kind. And I love you. I love you.”

You got lost in his words, in him. And the rest of the night was history as you both got completely wrapped up in the other. I love you’s passed back and forth the whole night until you finally passed out in his strong arms. Right where you belonged. Right where your heart beat for him the most.

Tags: @burntheedges @tuquoquebrute @joelalorian @dugiioh @akah565 @amyispxnk @itsokbbygrl-library @blueseastorm @pedrostories

[ssahotchnerr]

hi!! i love your fics, they keep me sane ❤️

i was thinking of a fic with aaron where it’s friends to lovers at the BAU & aaron being the profiler he is he notices something off when y/n starts pulling away after he meets beth (season 7/8/9)

then it’s raining & he drops y/n off at home after a long night of drinking their sorrows & she blurts out “because i’m in love with you, you idiot”

could be a love triangle or “i drop that bitch bc he’s also in love” type thing

p.s. plz don’t break my heart with aaron not loving us back

kk bye love you

🥹 that's so sweet thank you so much. i kinda switched this up a bit, and hehe i won't break your heart about him not loving us back but i can't promise it'll be a happy ending <3

history left unfinished

cw; angst!!! small mention of alcohol

the pattering rain was the perfect excuse to stay silent. it's been twenty minutes, and neither of you had spoken a word to each other.

it was loud- the repeated tapping smacked against the surface of aaron's car, making conversation impractical. so maybe that's why you suddenly gained the confidence to ask the question you've been holding in for months now, or it could've been the alcohol flowing through your body. nonetheless, you'd chalk it up to fate if he ended up hearing you or not.

"do you love her?" you didn't dare meet aaron's eyes, refusing to fall into their soft, warm comfort. instead, you watched the rain droplets as they raced each other down the glass of the window.

aaron glanced in your direction, "what'd you say?"

"are you in love with her?" you asked, your mind recalling the events from the past few hours.

the way his face lit up as she joined the team at the bar, the way his eyes would crinkle at the edges as he smiled at her as she spoke, the way his hand always involuntarily ended up in hers.

you've always pictured it differently. you've always pictured yourself in her place.

it was difficult not to, given the history you and aaron shared. the long, meaningful talks about anything and everything, the constant shared fear of the other's safety while in the field, spending your weekends only with him and jack, the one kiss you had shared.

but that's all it was now, history. thanks to her. your routine changed when beth entered into aaron's life, and you became a bystander in his.

it took him a while to respond, your eyes eventually finding his in the darkness. "i love her, yes." aaron said, almost cautiously.

"but are you in love with her?"

"don't." he shook his head, something in his voice you couldn't quite place.

"you're breaking my heart, you've been breaking it." your voice cracked as you felt yourself begin to tremble in your seat. "and it was never officially yours to begin with."

the car slowed to a stop as aaron parked outside your apartment building, also giving him the opportunity to focus solely on you. but the contradicting thing was, he couldn't answer you, silence overpowered him.

"i've loved you for so long." your words left you in a breath, your shoulders dropping from the weight of your confession. "i've wanted you to choose me for so long. i've waited."

aaron had noticed, the distance you've intentionally set forth between the two of you. the truth was, he did. he loved you back with every inch of him. but that was just it- he loved you. and it scared him. you knew the parts of him he kept hidden away, the parts that minimal people ever get to see. the more you saw, the closer the two of you became, the more you would realize how broken he was.

being with beth was easier, if it didn't work out, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much. and just maybe, keeping you at arm's reach, rather than in his arms, it would prevent you from slipping through his fingers entirely. panic began to slowly creep through him though, because he realized if he didn't answer adequately, you would.

but you took his silence as an answer within itself, opening the passenger door and hastily getting out of his car, slamming it behind you.

aaron was quick to follow, throwing his seatbelt off and hurrying after you. "wait!"

"it's fine." you insisted, squinting back at him as rain plummeted your face. thankfully, your tears blended in. "go be with her. it's fine. i'm so happy for you."

"you don't understand." he insisted, the crackling of thunder following his words.

"i understand fine." just like the sky, you wanted to scream. "let me let you go, please."

aaron's face softened a tad, his words leaving him in a sigh. "i don't want you to."

"don't make this even harder." you pleaded as he hesitantly stepped closer. "you said you love her, that's not fair."

aaron reached out for you, taking both your hands into his. "but-"

"no." you pulled your hands away. "whatever..." you took a moment, searching for the correct term. you heart ached, mourning the possibility- the what could have been. in the long run, this had to be the easiest solution. but you also pondered- how could it be?

despite your doubts, it was like a floodgate had been broken, and you finished your statement. "this is. or was. it's over. it has to be over."

aaron knew what he should've done. he should've grabbed your face and kissed you like his life depended on it. he should've admitted that you had claimed his heart and mind as yours forever ago, you utterly and completely consumed both. he should've told you that he's never been so deeply infatuated with someone, that it scared him.

but he just stood there. frozen. even after you had walked away.

[ecoamerica]

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[stoneagedevil]

i really liked the anton fic. could we possibly get a small continuation or a separate one entirely? smut included, if possible

Little Bird | Anton x Reader

CW/TW: Size kink if you squint. Smut. Blood/blood kink-ish. No protection. MDNI. Murder. Obsession. Possessiveness.

————

Anton didn’t do “deals.” He didn’t do half-assed jobs. He was the right tool to choose because of the way he operated; swiftly, completely, cleanly (save for the bloodshed), and typically got away with ease. People all over had called him a ghost, the only problem for his targets was that he was very much alive.

There was danger in even seeing Anton, as those who asked stupidly if he was going to kill them, he’d reply, “That depends…do you see me?”

The short answer was yes.

The shorter answer was a bullet in the face.

However, you had always been the exception. You’d seen every square inch of his body, and he yours, but he never intended to put a bullet between your gorgeous eyes. Anton understood emotions to a certain degree. He understood that emotions make people do stupid things, that love hurts and can make a sane man do insane things.

Anton understood emotions to a degree, yes. He just didn’t feel them, not all of them at least.

But the feeling that felt like the devil’s fiery hand crushing his heart was definitely real. He certainly felt his teeth clenching together, slowly tightening until he thought they’d crack. Certainly felt his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel of the beat-up pickup truck he stole.

And why? Well, love he’d assumed.

Anton wasn’t a man to bring you home flowers, or chocolates. He wasn’t a man to say “I love you’s.” He didn’t go to work at 9 and come home after 5. He was a stone cold killer, but damn it if he wasn’t obsessed with you.

You’d had no family, never made friends, and had no qualms about what he did. That’s not to say you couldn’t be friendly when the time arose. You could step up to the plate when you’d have to, and you’d killed a few people yourself a few times, only because you had to. You’d never go out of your way for it like he would. But you were perfect. Always saying the right things at the right times. Tough, but someone who he protected with his life. You’d always gone with the flow, if you needed to pack up at 3am because Anton got a tip that his target had dashed, you’d be the first one in the passenger seat to the vehicle you’d just hotwired. There were times in the most silent drives, he thought that perhaps mind-reading was a real thing. You always spoke with purpose. Always for a reason.

So to reiterate, you were perfect.

And you were currently being held captive by his “boss” because he’d found out that the not-so-little secret of his got out: he’d hired a few men other than Anton. To do a job Anton was already doing.

And now you were collateral.

Anton wondered if this is what Llewelyn Moss had felt. But then again, he couldn’t possibly have known. A man so willing to leave his woman for $2 million in cash wasn’t a man in love. He wasn’t a man to do insane things. Llewelyn didn’t try hard enough, and where he failed, Anton would succeed. He simply had to.

And so, it was set in stone by the stone cold killer. He’d be getting you back, one way or another.

-

He sped into the parking lot of the skyscraper, and although he hated populated cities, rich people didn’t. On the top floor is where he’d find his good-for-nothing boss-turned-target; soon-to-be-turned-cadaver. The truck’s breaks squealed like a pig, and Anton left the cab of the pickup just as fast as he’d stopped it. A slight breeze combed its fingers through his hair as he walked briskly, his feet light in his heavy boots.

An elevator ride later, and he was faced with the large wooden double-doors of his target’s office. If you weren’t in there, you were in the missing floor. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to go looking too far as the minute he rushed into the sterile room, he was met with your eyes, the barrel of a revolver kissing your temple. He stopped then.

“I knew you’d come.” The man said. “You weren’t quick enough to get the man. We were out $2 million in cash and in product, and her life is just a fraction of that.” He sneered. Your eyes never left Anton’s, however. Your body was completely still, mouth covered with duct tape and hands with bloody knuckles bound together at the wrists. You’d caused trouble for them.

That only made him need you more.

You blinked slowly at him, and though you couldn’t say anything, if was thought you both had a secret language; one that never had formed into words. Never needed to, anyways.

You quickly threw yourself to the floor out of the barrel’s line of fire, and Anton wasted no time in bringing up his specially-made suppressed shotgun and shooting off the older man’s offending arm. The revolver and the bastard’s favored limb fell to the ground together, and you quickly rolled away as your captor writhed in shock. Your rolling was not quick enough to evade the blood of a severed artery, and the warm feeling of life itself spattered onto you.

Anton stalked over to you as his victim fell to the floor, growing increasingly weak as the blood drained from his body. It wouldn’t be too long before he’d be food for the worms. Taking out a switchblade and flicking it open, Anton’s large hands worked nimbly at cutting the rope that you were encased in, setting his little bird free once more. You reached a delicate had up to your mouth, violently ripping the tape off with little to no reaction.

He offered you a hand, and without hesitation, you took it. Anton helped you up, and the boss’s flailing had lessened. You both watched, but Anton’s interest laid elsewhere. He turn to look at you.

And there you were. By his side once again, your deep eyes watching the man he’d killed for you die, the man’s blood on your face and all over your body. You licked your lips, wet tongue clearing the blood away from your lips, the metal taste welcoming on your tastebuds. It signified freedom to you. A promise that Anton had made.

“Did he do anything?” Anton asked, almost demanding. His gravely voice conducted your eyes to look into his.

“No. Nothing I cannot deal with.” You replied softly, turning your head back to the body and tilting it.

Anton huffed slightly. Whether it was a release of anger, or a sigh of relief, he wasn’t sure. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did.

In what seemed like an instant, the desk of the deceased was immediately cleared, your stomach then resting on the smooth wooden surface as Anton pressed himself behind you. You looked behind you at Anton, and he wrapped a single hand around your throat and brought your face to his. He licked the remaining blood off of your lips, moving his hand to your hair and angling your head to gain access to your neck. There, he nipped continuously, noises reverberating from your throat and into the luxurious office. You pressed yourself back into him as much as you could, but he was significantly taller, and your feet her hardly touching the ground.

“Anton.” You whined, the idea of being intimate on the desk and while you’re covered in blood becoming too much. He backed off at the sound of his name falling from your lips, and it was then you felt his hands reach around your hips and begin to unbutton your denim jeans with the same efficiency as he had when he cut away the rope. You aided in pulling your jeans down, along with your panties.

His little bird was free once more.

It wasn’t long before you heard the zipper of his own pants, and instead of turning your head to get a look, you took your hands and grasped the desk - bracing yourself. He’d always given you what you wanted.

No spit was needed, to say the least, and Anton slid in with ease; mostly thanks to you. You were always wettest when Anton had killed someone for you. For you. That was the most gorgeous part of him. Where all other men had limits, Anton had none. It made Anton wonder if he should hunt down every last person on Earth for you.

Anton was a violent man. One who did things quickly.

You were not one of those things.

He took his time with you, feeling you from the inside, and out. Warm, wet, tight, soft. So soft. Your soft skin balanced out the callouses on his hands. His teeth made themselves a home in the flesh of your shoulder, his hard grunts mingling with your soft moans. He tasted metal, far sweeter than the kind he tasted on your lips before. You had no choice but to feel him, as he stretched you out given his size.

Your abdomen tightened, your legs had begun to shake, and you clamped your legs together as you reached what you assumed was the closest thing to paradise. Anton split you open more, pushing deeper, the tightening of your hole - no, his hole - bringing him towards a paradise of his own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a warmth flood your insides. Anton bit harder into your flesh, finally releasing the right hold of his jaw after his orgasm. His mouth had blood around it, and he leaned forward once more to kiss you.

He pulled your clothing up over you and fixed it until you were decent, and then did the same to himself.

“You are mine.” He wouldn’t let anyone touch you, and if you were taken from him, he’d re-establish the fact that you were his, in one way or another.

“As if I could forget. As if I’d even want to.” You replied, standing shakily like a newborn fawn. Anton’s intense eyes studied your figure as you walked towards the door, stopping and turning to look at him, your eyes saying, ‘I’d follow you anywhere.’

So he lead the way. You’d hotwired another vehicle, the two of you becoming ghosts once again, and you becoming his little bird encased in his birdcage. His ribcage. Right next to his heart.

————

Thank you for your request anon! 💜

[dreams-writings]

Reverse Interrogation - Part 1

[sub!Feitan Portor x top!Reader]

‼️ NSFW/MDNI‼️

Synopsis: For the first time in his life, Feitan fails an interrogation. Refusing to admit defeat and give up his perfect track record when it comes to his specialty, he begrudgingly allows reader to strike a bargain in exchange for her secrets.. and is shocked to learn what she truly wants. His body. Frustrated and furious with his predicament, he angrily accepts her conditions purely for the sake of the Troupe, agreeing to do as she says. No other reason...

Tw: eventual smut, torture, violence, NSFW/MDNI, vulgar language, Feitan gives verbal consent but still isn't happy with the situation/ (dubcon????)

Feitan's thin, pale fingers were as cold as his heart, a detail that all of his victim's vividly remembered. They always retold their horrid experience with the notorious Phantom Troupe interrogator with a glaze of shell shocked terror in their eyes. The graphic recollection of such chilled skin gripping and tearing harshly at their own flesh would make them sob even years later after the torment. That is, of the few that survived the ordeal. The man in question wasn't necessarily aware of this, he just did his job, striking an unfathomable amount of fear into the hearts of the unlucky few who crossed his merciless path, and whom were ordered to be dragged off to his eery torture chambers. He'd bring them all to the point they'd do anything in the entire world to escape it. Even giving up precious secrets, his most treasured prize for the effort.

He was nonchalant about it. Indifferent, even. Perhaps he could revel in the glory of it, just a bit - the assignment easily giving a man like him a power trip seldom found elsewhere in his youth. Anyone from Meteor City had been conditioned by a brutally unforgiving childhood.

His eyes might crinkle in delight beneath the mysterious cowl at a particularly profound scream, or those empty grey depths could also glimmer amusedly if they begged for his nonexistent mercy. But such was the nature of his upbringing. At the end of the day.. it was the pride of serving his Troupe which overruled any form of guilt or shame that a normal, perhaps more sane person could feel about butchering people into submission. He never failed an interrogation. And he didn't plan to start today, even as the woman before him.. his newest little nut to crack open, was giving him a challenge.

Someone who survived more than perhaps ten minutes was refreshing. But only at first - as he was about to discover. Feitan was accustomed to the disappointment of most human beings succumbing to their primitive instincts and fragility, interrupting his creative ideas at the worst time. It left him unsatisfied, and pent up. The confessions would soon follow after the initial wave of shock passed.. the pathetic blubbering and hiccuping sobs, as his victim unashamedly spilled their intel before he spilled more of their guts. A part of him pitied them. Only a small, miniscule part. But most of him loathed them, too. Not only for their weakness, giving in so easily... but also betraying whomever it was they worked for or served. Mostly, it was his judgement for their inability to endure. He could only think to himself at such times:

Really? That's all you can take? I could've done better in your shoes.. I wouldn't have broken so easily. I would never be a liability to my allies. How detestable.

In his opinion they belonged beneath his boot, to finally suffer the way they caused others to. Feitan trusted Chrollo's judgement. Always. He firmly believed that not one single innocent person had ever, ever found themself in his chambers beneath his vengeful will. An underground lair of hell, which Chrollo gave the order to utilize when a person was seen as fit for punishment. Another rotten pile of garbage and greed for Feitan to pick apart. He embodied a diety of unforgiving justice in his mind. Long ago, he'd stopped asking what the reason was, and just got straight to carving away.

Feitan was currently preoccupied observing today's victim. Except.. she wasn't really acting like a victim, so what was he to call her? Narrowed, steely grey eyes continued to dart up and down her feminine figure as if searching for clues to piece together a puzzle. He couldn't solve this one, not yet... Even his keen attention for catching any signs of weakness wasn't able to determine a chink in the armor. If he thought he'd found one and explored into it a bit, he was only met with the same resilience as before. Her heated, intense stare of defiance. A smirk began to play across his features, it wasn't often he maybe felt a glimmer of respect for someone in his chair.

"Tough girl. How you become immune to shock?" He asked, pausing to idly run a bloodstained cloth over one of his nasty metal tools. He tossed the mechanism back to a metal tray where it gave a harsh clatter.

A clever glint in his eye, he circled her similarly to a jungle cat closing in on alert prey. She snickered right back at him, and he quirked a brow, noticing the bizarre nature of her mental state. Or rather, it was outlandish to him, to see someone with freshly stripped fingernails acting so present and grounded.

By now, almost at this exact time in the routine, the animalistic "deer in headlights" look would appear as his victims squirmed and twisted to find an escape. Hyperventilating through a full bodily trauma response. But not her. She looked as casual as the first moment he forcibly sat her down... Expression careful and aware, but definitely not in the midst of a primitive meltdown. He couldn't help but feel a little bit of curiosity... And interest. He could treat someone like this as a human, even if his cruelty would remain the same.

He did so by talking to her. She was clearly sound enough to respond.

"You been trained? To handle your secrets like big girl?" He inquired condescendingly, pacing restlessly in front of her, looming over her with menace in his intent.

His ghostly slender hand reached forward to grip her by the hair, yanking on the tufts to force eye contact, and her face twisted into an expression he couldn't quite understand, her sharp exhale of surprise leaving a warm feeling tingling against his skin as it swept past his cheeks.

Stripped bare, she was panting lightly, a reaction he noticed. He kept his victims this way to understand them better - an expert in anatomy; he wanted to be able to take in every reaction. Every last possible weak point that could be weaponized or utilized to coax someone into unbearable agony. Being naked psychologically left an impact, making humans feel more vulnerable and insecure through the interrogation process. Subsequently, it urged them to feel cornered and small in more than one way, and let their treasured secrets slip all the easier.

But this wasn't what he was looking for. She wasn't gasping with pain or flinching away. Instead, her soft pants left her cheeks flushed red. So what was going on?

"You could say that," she purred. "Is it frustrating? You haven't had to really work for this before, have you?" She mused.

The way she was looking at him made his skin crawl just a bit. Mostly because he really legitimately couldn't read her face, and he found that unnerving. He was used to total control in this environment. Given the circumstances it should be something totally different - so how was he supposed to understand her at all? He watched a gash on her face ooze slowly with more blood, a little droplet finding it's way down to the ice cold basement flooring with a faint pattering echo. The woman was unphased by his demeanor apparently.

Feitan just sort of stared after such comments, calculating towards her with a hint of annoyance creeping into his gaze. Was she taunting him? For a moment he second guessed it because he couldn't determine why someone in their right god damn mind would mock a life threatening predator actively approaching with a set of torture tools in hand. Not to mention, she was helpless and restrained. Was she bluffing? Either way he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she most definitely was batshit crazy, based on how there was seemingly no logical gain in being so bold.

"...Can't feel pain. As much. Can you?"

After a pause this was all he had said. Coming to this final conclusion, realizing that his vigilant eyes hadn't missed any signs after all. Initially he had thought she had gone through some sort of intense training in pain endurance, for the sole purpose of keeping her sacred, crucial information safe. But now he was realizing what he was actually dealing with. He'd broken trained torture survivors before. Easily. They always reached their limit eventually. This was different.

"That's right!" She chimed. "You finally got it, darling. I can feel pain but my nervous system doesn't work the same way as yours.. my pain receptors aren't very intense. So you're playing a losing game here. Tell me though, will you give up? Is this it for you, little sadist? Or are you the creative type~?"

He watched her give him a once over, smug expression still plastered to her features as he felt himself essentially being sized up. He wasn't sure how he felt about it other than the fact he didn't like it.. Feitan believed her close observance of him from head to toe was probably a show of her humiliating him. Maybe searching for weaknesses the same way he knew how to do.. and he hated that possibility. Who was she to reflect his behavior? She MUST be thinking up insults about him silently, that he was too short or something.. the very idea made his blood boil.

This infuriating concept made him loom closer to her, his intimidating nature taking over while his eyes bore daggers into hers. Mere inches away from her face, this was how he typically issued a challenge without speaking a word. Most people would fall apart and quiver with terror being subjected to inescapable closeness with him. Yet another unexplainable reaction followed from her instead, and his eyes darted down at the first sight of movement, noticing she was squirming and rubbing her thighs together under his fierce stare. He didn't put two and two together; he just watched, dumbfounded, unsure if maybe she was attempting to break free to no avail.

"There's more than one way to get information out of someone, you know~ but I get the feeling all you know how to do is rip people apart. The easy method. Boring. You want my suggestion-?"

"Shut up," Feitan snarled ferociously, offended and disgusted with both her and the situation, unable to stop himself before he found his hand wrapping tightly around her neck, violent fingers locking over her jaw in a vicious grip. He hated all her irritating chatter, it made his temper flare. But even more than that, although he would never admit it.. he just hated that she could take away what made him feel the most powerful and secure, simply by existing. He wasn't threatening or scary to someone if he couldn't cause them pain. And he struggled to accept that. It didn't fit in place with his comfort zone.

Gurgling, her eyes squinted with pain, but to confirm what she'd just said.. indeed, a normal person would be screaming, and this was bearable for her, even if fairly uncomfortable. His inhuman retractable claws were digging into her soft skin, causing beads of blood to appear beneath five piercing knives. Quickly, the wounds turned into crimson streams. Yet, she wouldn't yield.

Unfortunately, her time spent suffocating in his merciless grasp also gave him enough time in silence to come to another realization. He let go, instantly - watching her drop back down with a hunched head, coughing and spluttering for air.

He could accidentally kill her this way because her body and mind wouldn't be responding with the queues he needed to go by in determining her state of mortality, and likelihood of death. How could he make a judgement call without the signs he was used to expecting? He could tell when someone was close to death, based on indicators of their shock levels.. all a complete circular link between the psychology and physiology of pain.

He was completely seasoned in his job to the fullest degree. But this wasn't a normal situation, not one he'd ever dealt with. She couldn't necessarily tell him or maybe even understand herself if she was dying.

Shit... her body wouldn't freak out or sense danger. It would just remain in a perfectly neutral state. One second she would be breathing and the next her heart might just fail on her. Normally Feitan didn't have any qualms about killing but when it came to interrogations, death meant that the victim's intel died with them. Taken to the grave. To him, that was equivalent to failure.

And so.. the delimma was quickly dawning on him. He could continue, and risk killing her by accident, therefore ensuring the intel he sought was forever out of reach - or, he could stop and suffer the shame of admitting defeat.

Unacceptable... both were unacceptable. He could only stand momentarily and glare at her maliciously for the predicament she was causing him, a sudden stirring feeling of true hatred arising in his chest. Why was it, then, that there was perhaps more of that same respect from earlier appearing simultaneously? Well.. he must be unable to ignore her strength here, and found himself inwardly acknowledging her impossible feat of enduring his trials. No other human being had ever done the same.

"You will tell me. Tell me what Danchou asked for." He was making an attempt to assert his normally compelling willpower, his intimidating aura leaking into his nen which flared along with his irritability. Right now, he was fairly pissed off, the signs beginning to appear around his frame through a visual residue of nen.

"Maybe I will," she purred again towards him. He paused, surprised yet again by her, unsure if she was being serious. He would've easily taken that in as more mockery but just now - she sounded quite sincere. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't going to ask HER what he had to do for it. His pride wouldn't permit that. She needed to play by his rules in his domain.

But as a result of his confusion he was only left with a loss for words, eyes narrowing into slits as he attempted to piece her apart with his mind. Figure out what she was going on about. Nonetheless, she took the silence as opportunity.

"Take me back to your leader and I'll strike a deal with him. He makes deals, doesn't he? I'll tell you everything if he can give me what I want."

Feitan ridiculed her with that same silent stare, making it clear he was displeased with her request. She shouldn't even get the option when nobody else in her shoes ever could. She was just lucky.. just special because of some random offhand ability she either developed over time, or was born with. So why did she deserve special treatment? What, was she going to ask for a red carpet down here next as she was escorted out? He wasn't going to ask about her weird pain tolerance nor did he care. It was just an annoying hurdle he was finding himself truly aggravated with.

"Fine. But Danchou not an idiot. Most likely end up back with me.. will get you to talk. Eventually."

The only reason he agreed to this was because he was legitimately concerned about accidentally killing her. He was known for his brutality, and early on in his little career he had actually sent people into a premature grave through panic induced heart attacks. His torture techniques had to be modified and drawn out, to prolong their time in the chair and eliminate the chance of losing potential classified information. He knew what to look for, to determine when to back off temporarily. He just hadn't seen it from this woman.

Not to mention, he had carved her up pretty good already. Deep, clean slices decorated her skin in vertical designs where he had experimented for quite a while, attempting in his endeavors to find just one place where her pain was significant. Nothing had been found, and as a result, her blood loss was considerable.

Wordlessly, he made his final decision, cutting her loose from her bonds and noticing her give a shudder at the cold blade. Leaning forward towards him, a tension became present now that she was being freed, an absolutely electric presence in the surrounding air. Goosebumps raised beneath where his fingertips smoothed over her wrists, and he raised a brow, assuming it was the discomfort of cold. "Pretty," she hummed in a strangely sweet tone, and he straightened up, staring at her again in a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

"Your hands," she clarified. He just deadpanned at her. A moment passed, and she would only earn a snippy little "tch" from him in response. His eyes flickered back to her face upon hearing her chuff in amusement at his dismissal, and again he realized just how god damn nuts she was. Clearly, not even slightly afraid of him. He frowned, spiteful at the fact.

As if to make a point, his so called "pretty" hands were what he used to harshly yank her out of the chair by the scalp, dragging her across the floor to go speak with Chrollo. How could she even possibly think that about such hands, which were designed to only ever harm and kill? The amount of blood these hands carried upon them.. it could drown a person. Or several. Such a comment like that made him almost concerned for her. Or rather, it would if she was someone he cared for. He did not. Feitan was definitely judging though.

If anything, her delirious behavior was perhaps the only present sign of her being unwell... Maybe this was how the strain on her body was presenting itself even if she couldn't feel pain. That had to be it. Her compliments couldn't be genuine. This was psychosis of some sort.

He was grumbling and growling under his breath as he kept tugging on her to keep up with him. She wasn't heavy by any means but he was annoyed to even be lugging her weight around. She was a tricky bitch in his opinion and he didn't trust her one bit - not even enough to stay put in the damn chair while he went to ask for Chrollo's input. "Stop" he snarled, the second he watched her open her mouth to start speaking. So instead, she just giggled softly, blood smearing all over her legs from being dragged across the stone cold floor.

Despite his warning, she spoke anyway, and he groaned.

"What do you think I'll ask him for? If I won't cave under the torture.. surely you must be wondering what's worth all my fun secrets."

"Don't care," he stated back flatly. He gave a particularly mean tug on her hair this time, knowing the tension against her scalp really wouldn't cause her much distress anyway. He could do what he wanted.

"Oh c'mon, surely you're curious ~" she hummed. He just sighed, refusing to play her game anymore.

It didn't take long to get her back into the entryway of the hideout where the entire Troupe was sitting around idly.. likely waiting for him to finish up. After all, whatever he found out was going to determine what the group did next. It was part of the pressure he was feeling at this time. He felt himself mentally melt away a little bit, consumed by shame as all other pairs of eyes turned to witness him. Him, in his state of failure.

He noticed all at once the individual reactions - Machi's frown of impatience and the confused yet interested tilt of Shalnark's blond head. Chrollo stood up, and approached. His eyes were always empty yet watchful. He could make sense of the situation amidst the silence within mere moments. "Everyone, please give us some privacy for a moment," he called to the others in his usual collected, calm tone. His diction was consistently elegant and composed. Feitan had always admired it.

He was having a hard time coping with embarrassment however, preoccupied with the difficulty of tolerating an emotion that he hated. Being ashamed or feeling bad about anything at all could make him terribly irritable. The others figured it out eventually, but it made him difficult to communicate with at times, on top of the language barrier. They'd just get snippy retorts and the usual scornful glare out of him if they tried to dig at it. Chrollo was the best person to handle this anyway, seeing as he was entirely unphased by Feitan's personality quirks.

Once the others had cleared out with a few grumbles and sighs, deciding not to comment on the abnormal event of Feitan bringing a victim back up with him, he growled and tossed the girl forward at his boss' feet.

"Won't talk. Some kind of weird pain immunity. Can't continue.. could kill her. She want bargain for secret."

His explanation was short, eyes lowering down to glower at her beneath his boot, giving her a solid kick in the back for the hell of it just because he was mad about what he had to do. He was suffering such humiliation because SHE was too stubborn. Anger helped him feel better about admitting defeat to someone he looked up to.

The woman just squirmed under his heated eyes, legs writhing together like they had before in the chair. He still really didn't like those eyes she gave him from beneath half lidded lashes, as it made him nervous. He didn't get why she always looked like she knew something he didn't. Chrollo watched this scene unfold as well, any changes in his expression so subtle that they were hardly noticable, and past any level of observance. Even the slightest glimmer of amusement in his eye was quick to vanish as he easily pieced apart the situation with a few context clues. He spoke quietly and nonchalantly to the girl, calm gaze lowering back down to her level.

"It sounds like we have no choice but to cooperate with her, Feitan. After the extensive damage done to her body, one might even say we're lucky she's willing to compromise."

Don't praise her for such a stupid thing, Feitan nearly hissed out loud, but kept the thought reverberating in his head instead.

The raven watched his leader lower to one knee, observing her, and he then gave her one of his lifeless smiles before asking:

"What do you suggest we should trade, for your precious intel? What do you value?"

He waited, glancing up at Feitan to note how utterly furious his second in command was, the man was practically exuding steam out the ears. Chrollo wasn't upset by any means in this situation, but he could also understand why his counterpart was struggling with it.

The woman straightened herself up, having patted down her hair once Feitan let go, and she gave the Phantom Troupe's leader a coy smirk. She didn't hesitate to respond with a bold demand.

"Let me fuck him,"

"I want him. Your interrogator. Let me do as I please with him for a while, and he'll be my pretty new toy. I promise not to harm him, and he'll be returned to you in the same condition as he is now. If not perhaps a little bit more relaxed."

She lifted her eyes to hungrily drink in the sight of her captor. Chrollo couldn't help but chuckle softly, purposefully taking a moment to witness Feitan's reaction in real time.

He had to admit, this whole ordeal had his full interest now. The leader had already known where this was going the second the girl was dragged in, utterly unapologetic with the squirming and flushing red body every damn time her captor touched her. The look she gave him was one of desire, whenever she basked in his visage. All behavior that Chrollo understood from women, and he knew Feitan did not. In fact he was sure this was a complete blindsighted smack to the face for him.

She gave a little rocking motion of delight at the mere thought, and Chrollo raised a brow, seriously considering her offer. It was a simple one. So, she just wanted sex. But he understood right away that this was out of his hands. He already made a pact with himself long ago that he would never sacrifice the human dignity of his members for personal gain.

Maybe, though.. he could help his friend out with this one and take the bullet. The truth was that Chrollo wouldn't mind at all, he'd utilized his good looks in the past to get what he wanted for his personal goals, and it was really no hindrance to him to do it one more time.

"So you want pleasure? Rather than just him, I can assure you that I'm another willing candidate for you, and with significantly more intimate experience at that. Would you take me instead?"

"No-"

She began. Except, it was two people who spoke at once. The woman was about to completely reject the idea, but Feitan was already shaking his head.

"No, Danchou. You should not take consequence for my failure. My responsibility to fix."

Chrollo sighed, realizing this could now officially go one way and only one way, due to Feitan's stubborn rigidity. Even if he'd be pissed about it for easily a full week. Feitan would rather suffer any other punishment than let down his Troupe. It was connected to his personal pride and priorities. Chrollo knew this, of course.

"Well, Feitan? Do you agree? You won't be allowed to resist or argue, if you do. You would have to allow her to have her way, if we want to complete an exchange."

Poor Feitan however, was not on the same page. In fact, they'd left him behind by a significant few paces, his brain still working in overdrive to process what the fuck she just said a minute ago. What she just asked his boss for. He quite literally couldn't fathom what was happening or why. Who would want him? And no less, why the hell was Chrollo so quick to immediately consider such a bizarre request? There HAD to be more to it. Maybe she was trying to get him into a vulnerable position, to kill him. This couldn't be right.

"Feitan?" Chrollo asked again. The skull crested cowl around his face covered the view of his jaw hanging slightly open in disbelief.. but it certainly couldn't conceal his mortified eyes, round as stoplights.

"......I, I..."

He almost reverted back to his first language in this instance as he failed to find the words. How could he, when presented with such an unbelievable situation? What could he even do.. or say? How did he even feel about it? He wasn't sure. Too much at once.

At least, the woman was actually quiet as he sat there, dumbfounded and flabbergasted. He shuffled uncomfortably, feeling his face quickly heating up into what was probably a jarring bright red flush. His ears felt hot.. his cheeks were burning and his hands went all clammy. He wouldn't say it but he was scared.

Nonetheless, what came out of his mouth after a few agonizing long minutes passed, said differently.

"Fine. Whatever it takes."

"Feitan.. if you don't want to.."

"Stop it. This my job in Troupe. Let me do job."

His fists clenched, and he stuffed them into his pockets as he noticed the girl's clear satisfaction with his answer. He sneered right back at her, after seeing her snicker. He sent Chrollo a glare, truly feeling like his boss was pimping him out in some strange way. Was this even reality?? In what world would this even happen?

"I'll be so good to you~" the girl hummed sweetly, tantalizingly snaking an arm around his leg. Feitan shoved her off, but not before stiffening at her touch in surprise. He didn't know how to accept touch of any kind and he was more afraid of this right now than even something brutal, like her hurting him back. He'd have agreed much easier if she just suggested that instead. At least that was familiar.. whilst this was foreign.

"Alright. The deal is made. But you won't be leaving this place until you fulfill your end of the bargain, Miss, so long as Feitan also follows through. Now, I don't think you intend to cheat... Your interest in my interrogator seems genuine. But if you try to find any loopholes we'll likely kill you for it. Oh. And Feitan reserves the right to step away if you harm him. Understood?"

The girl nodded eagerly, standing up finally on weak knees. "So.. is that your name then beautiful boy? Feitan? What a lovely sounding name." She wobbled, eventually swerving on her right hip to reach for Feitan, arm wrapping around his slender waist to steady herself. Again, he stiffened at her closeness, expression tightening into discomfort. So then, why.. why did he simultaneously experience a sudden stirring in his lower stomach? Hearing her coo his name in such a sugary sweet way was also a completely new sensation. He didn't think anyone had ever spoken it like that before.

His eyes widened slightly in horror at the realization of feeling butterflies and jittery warmth in his stomach. Of course. He couldn't just ignore what was inevitably coming - what terrifying task he had committed himself to all for the sake of preserving his pride. Like one may try and avoid an intrusive thought, he was trying to cast out the idea that he'd.. well.. he'd be feeling inside of her quite soon. He'd never felt a girl like that before.. wrapped around him, and..

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding before and blinked to clear his head.

"What are you looking at" he hissed menacingly at the woman after catching her oggling him again, yanking her up by the forearm to drag her back to the damn basement designated for interrogation. Not to torture her now.. but.. to do whatever unsightly things she demanded. He chose the same room purely because it was designed specifically to block out noise. He didn't know what might happen, but... He didn't want anyone existing in this proximity to have even a slight audible hint of what was happening. This was a secret he was taking to his fucking grave.

Well, he could at least continue to brag about his perfect track record of successful interrogations, even if he was technically doing it the reverse way this time. He would simply have to bare with the constant embarrassment of knowing Chrollo witnessed this happen. Chrollo would know he stooped this low. But at least, he wouldn't have to suffer the constant belittlement and teasing from his allies. They could be brutal about that.. like siblings. Chrollo would likely have the decency to keep this under cover. Between the two of them.

"And don't hurt her either, okay Feitan?" Chrollo called back out to his interrogator as the small but strong raven hauled her away. He didn't respond, he just growled in frustration under his breath, already having assumed that was part of the exchange. No more torture.

He didn't know what he should be prepared for, and to be quite honest he felt almost faint as they entered the cold basement of the abandoned building in tense silence. The woman tried standing again, gripping for his hand as she pulled herself up.

"Unless you want blood all over you, I need to be patched up. And then I want you on the bed. Understood?" She asked.

Feitan gave an exhale, heavier than usual. Now that they were alone again he could ask her about her nonsensical request.

"you.. why would you..."

"Did I say you could ask questions?" She leered. And his gaze immediately hardened into a glare. He said nothing, knowing if he entertained his rage with a response, he'd probably only escalate from there. He was quickly learning he despised being told what to do from someone other than Chrollo.

"Good boy. I hope you know... I'm not intending to make you do everything for me.. I just want to please you, and watch you squirm a bit. That's all."

He was having a difficult time understanding her motives still but it might've been the haze of fog that clouded his mind after her next statement.

"That doesn't sound so bad, right? Sitting back and relaxing while a nice girl rides on you.."

His breath hitched as he felt her arms suddenly wrap around him, pressing herself into him by the hips to overwhelm him with her scent, and her voice.

"I'll make you feel so good that everyone in this building will know what's being done to you~"

And Feitan shuddered. Her whisper made his knees a little bit weak.. but he was also fucking petrified. Women never got this close to him on purpose. He may not be willing to admit it to himself, but for a brief moment at that time, he faltered... Truly terrified indeed that she was right. He just might break.

[kiwiraccoon]

Behind You

San x reader

Description: y/n explores a building her family used to own with her best friend only to find not something but someone inside.

Word Count: 782

Notes: mature language, first person POV, use of nicknames “honey” “dear”, annoyance at best friend

part 1 | part 2

“What are we doing here y/n?”

“Shhh will you?” In the dead of night my best friend and I wander in the woods to take a peek at the old hotel my family used to own. When I found the maps and pictures in our attic, I knew I had to learn more. And what better place to figure it out than the building itself. My best friend knows this yet she still remains confused, scared, and worried. I wish she had a little faith in me.

So what if we were searching out in the dark, it made the whole experience more thrilling for what could possibly be a waste of time. She keeps voicing her concerns and worries like I never heard her the first time and I had to admit what was first cute, was now annoying. 

Finally stepping up to the building I reach into my pocket and retrieve the old key hoping the locks haven’t been changed. And just my luck, they haven’t. We step into the dust covered and pitch black foyer, using our flashlights to find our way around. I have no clue what exactly I am looking for, but I know there is something here for me, waiting for me.

“Can you just hurry up? It feels bad in here.” Her voice penetrates the silence, erasing the god awful ringing along with it.

“Feels bad?” I ask, wondering what exactly she means as I have never felt more calm and at peace in a building. Nothing about this feels sketchy or wrong, it feels like I was meant to be here.

“You don’t get a bad vibe about this? Like there could be ghosts here for all we know. Maybe even worse, you seriously don’t feel it?” She rambles as we continue through the building making it into the large sitting area that seems to have held a bar as well.

I sigh and turn to face her growing tired of her complaints, “I feel nothing, my family owned the building and maybe still do. I just want to know more about it, and I actually feel like I belong here. If I would have known you were goi-“

“Y/n.” She cuts me off as fear overtakes the features of her face, widening her eyes into a size I had never seen before. “B-“ she gulps, “behind you.” 

Without second guessing I turn my head to look over my left shoulder and instantly make eye contact with a strikingly perfect man who held a sinister smile on his face. One that should make any sane person feel immense fear and want to find the nearest and quickest escape. Instead a smile pulls its way across my lips, tugging them just enough to show this odd loving feeling I have within my body. 

I have never met this man before in my life, but just the presence of him around sends dopamine and serotonin to course through my veins as if I had injected drugs. This man was perfection personified whether that was the universal truth or simply my own opinion, it didn’t matter. I have read about soulmates in books of fiction, wishing such thing were real and right now I think it is.

He moves slowly behind me and I turn my head to my right with a smile still on my face to meet his eyes again. “Hi, honey.” I say so simply as if this man had been in my life for decades and it was a common greeting for us.

“Dear, I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice sends chills across my skin raising bumps along the surface as it travels through me. The name, it felt so normal that it didn’t even cross my mind.

“What the fuck.” I hear my best friend whisper but I don’t even acknowledge her as my attention is entirely wrapped in him. His sharp, sinful eyes captivate me entirely. His smile sends euphoria running through my heart, increasing the speed to show me how happy it is.

His arms wrap around my waist and pull me back into him and it’s as if my whole body was submerged in gold. I felt priceless, cared for, loved. How could a man I have never met before make me feel ways I could only ever dream about. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry honey, how long have you been waiting?” I close my eyes as I lean into him more embracing the feel of his skin against mine, his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck, and his arms holding me tighter at the name.

“Too long. Way too long.”

[yeonboy]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 ♡ choi beomgyu.

He aches to be the one you would have snuck off with; to be the one you would want to share secret kisses with. He aches. And in that moment, he realizes his feelings have gone too far. They have caused him to stop being a true well-wisher to you; he is being selfish. He needs to take a step back. Or, Choi Beomgyu is head over heels in love with his best friend – and she simply doesn’t feel the same. 

❧ choi beomgyu x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ best friends!au ♡ unrequited love!au ♡ angst ♡ drama.

❧ 4.7 k words

❧ warnings! profanity, an extreeeeeme amount of pining, one-sided feelings, unrequited love, jealousy, heartbreak, some self-deprication, one (1) mention of drinking and partying, one (1) mention of making out, maybe an innuendo or two! mostly just buckets full of mopey, pining gyu </3 and a hopeful (?) ending (:

❧ note! i wrote this because i was listening to m5’s whiskey and crying and thinking of gyu so take that how u will </3 please note that the lyrics are there just to set the tone, not to be taken too literally. i just love this song, man. please don’t hate me for the ending, i changed it thrice and then settled on this. it just felt perfect to me this way :”) also! pls excuse the lack of dividers, tumblr won't let me add them without hiding the post from the tags for some reason :/

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

i never knew that love was blind; till i was hers and she was never mine…

“So, I have a question for you.”

Beomgyu blinks at your words, letting the steel straw escape his lips as you pull his strawberry milkshake away from him. 

In fascination, he watches the way your lips wrap around the shiny tube in the exact place where his own had been. You slurp once and pull away, leaving a tint of pink – pinker than the drink, pinker than Beomgyu’s cheeks, pinker than the love-goggles that are permanently on his eyes when he’s with you – on the edge of the straw.

“Gyu?”

He wants to wipe that pink away with his lips, so bad. But your hand comes in with a tissue to clean that precious speck of your lipstick away, before he can even blink a second time.

Now he blinks again and looks up at you. God, you’re so gorgeous with your brows all furrowed and lips all pouty. He is so thoroughly ruined by you. Why does he continue to subject himself to this torture instead of keeping his distance like a sane person? 

He doesn’t fucking know.

“Y–yeah? What question?”

“A hypothetical one. Very important, nonetheless.” You stare into space with your eyes squinted, perfect cheekbones reflecting the light from the evening traffic beyond the glass walls of the cafe you’re seated in. “If long time BFFs happen to develop feelings for each other, should they confess?”

Beomgyu chokes on air, freezing like a solid block of ice.

What did you just ask?

“You know… Just imagine! Two people who have been the best of friends for ages. And then one of them realizes they’re in love with the other.” Your rounded eyes turn to him with a hint of worry in them. “Should they confess and live their dream? Or should they take this secret to their grave and protect their friendship?”

Beomgyu is a mess. 

Why the actual hell are you asking him that? Him – the one guy in your entire life that doesn’t have to imagine this specific situation because he’s been living it for years, now?

Now, he’s not panicking because he thinks you might have figured him out and are trying to pave a path to confession. No, he's self-aware enough to not be deluded. And his panic kinda stems from this very fact. 

He's self-aware enough to know that while he's looking at you and daydreaming of a picket fence and good-morning kisses, your mind is stuck on someone else. Choi Soobin. Older than him, taller than him, cuter than him. Guy checks all boxes of the type of guys you like so well, Beomgyu wonders if Soobin is the reason why you created those boxes in the first place.

So he's scared out of his mind that you're paving a road to confess to Soobin.

“Wow, aren’t you super helpful this evening?”

Your whine of frustration pulls him out of his spiral. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, man. That’s a very subjective question.”

“Subjective?” You tilt your head in thought and Beomgyu dreads the next words you would say before you have even formed them: “Okay, let me answer it subjectively first then! Like, imagine if you had feelings for me. I wouldn't want you to confess them to me, like, ever.”

Ouch. Not that he plans to ever confess them to you, but still pretty ouch.

Slightly hurt, he drags his milkshake back to himself and slurps away the rest of it before smacking his lips and shaking his head. “Well then subjectively, it’s the complete opposite for me.”

You look at him with an extremely confused frown. “But what if I lose the friendship because you don't feel the same?” 

This hypothesis is making him lose his damn mind. 

“I… well, what if we lose the chance to be something much more amazing just because you were scared?”

Moment of introspection: he hopes to all the powers in the universe that he isn’t losing the chance to be something much more amazing with you just because he’s scared. You don’t like him like that, you won’t ever like him like that. 

He’s being smart and self-preservative. Not scared.

You're lost in thoughts for a moment, and then you suddenly get up with a jump. Grinning at him, you lean down to peck his cheek and rush out of the cafe before he can even fully absorb the warm brush of your lips against his skin. “You're the best, Gyu, thank you so much!”

In a daze, he brings his fingertips to brush against the apple of his cheek. 

Why did you run away like that? Why did you sound so excited? Fuck, are you going to confess right now? 

He pulls his fingertips away. 

They are pink.

yeah i was reckless, but i let it burn; i let it burn, yeah…

“And if they show up hand-in-hand, then what? Then what, huh, Tyun? It’s easy for you to say I’m overthinking, but you aren’t thinking nearly enough!”

Kang Taehyun, the university’s Student Council member who is in-charge of overseeing the set-up for tomorrow's inter-uni basketball game – and also Beomgyu’s best friend of fifteen years – rolls his eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets.

“Why do you keep setting yourself up for more pain, man? Why don't you try to invest these emotions somewhere they will be appreciated?”

“I can't just compel myself to start or stop feeling, dude…”

Shin Ryujin suddenly appears behind the bleachers that the two of them were covering with a banner, both hands planted in the back pockets of her jorts. They should look incredibly lame, but she somehow pulls them off. 

Beomgyu looks at her with wide eyes, wondering how much she heard.

“Yo, dumbass! Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” She’s smirking at him but there's a sparkle in her eyes that makes him chuckle at the name. 

“The name's Beomgyu.”

“That's what I said. So, are you coming?”

Beomgyu has actually been trying to think of an excuse to get out his regular movie night with you - and this sounds like the perfect one. He shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t really got any plans, so… Maybe I will.”

Taehyun gives him a weird look because he knows Beomgyu always had plans on Fridays.

Ryujin grins wide. “Perfect! Well, just two requests.”

He squints with interest. “What requests?”

“Wear my jersey! And, uh, don’t bring a date, please?”

She looks extremely bashful while saying the second part of the sentence. Which is somewhat jarring. It’s Shin fucking Ryujin, she eats men for breakfast. Why is she almost blushing?

But then Taehyun is cackling, which reminds Beomgyu of the first request she made. He immediately scowls. “Hey! I’m not wearing your jersey like some groupie!

She rolls her eyes, but her lips are quirked up because he didn’t say no to the second request. And he knows he won’t; you're the only one he ever asks to accompany him to places, and he's only going to the game tomorrow to escape you. 

“Your loss. Just so you know, boys are lining up to wear my jersey…”

Scoffing, Beomgyu goes back to handing Taehyun more pins. “Yeah right.”

“What? You don’t believe me?” Ryujin scoffs. “Watch this - ayo, Heeseung! Wanna wear my jersey tomorrow?”

A screech from the Students Council’s Vice Prez is followed by a high-pitched: “For real? Yes, please, I—” 

“Sike! Haha, gotcha, little bitch!”

Taehyun is doubled over in laughter and even Beomgyu can’t hold in his chuckles at the look of utter devastation on Heeseung’s face and victory on Ryujin’s. She raises an eyebrow when their gazes meet. “See?”

“How much did you pay him for this skit?”

She smacks his shoulder with an irritated whine. “You’re way too fucking cynical for no damn reason, dude. Okay, no jersey - but get a no. 17 placard for me, at least?” 

Rolling his eyes, he finally nods. 

“Great! See ya tomorrow, loser! Bye, Tyun!”

Taehyun waves at her as she leaves, while Beomgyu cups his hands around his mouth to yell out: “The name’s Beomgyu!”

“That’s what I said!”

“Man, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually enjoy talking to a girl.” 

Offended to his very bones, Beomgyu gapes at his best friend. “Dude! I enjoy talking to girls! I’m straight! Or did you forget how I threw up that one time when you kissed me during spin-the-bottle in seventh gra—”

“Yes, I remember!” Taehyun smacks him with a scowl on his face. “But that’s not what I meant. Gyu, you only ever talk to Y/N. Or have you not realized that? And look absolutely lovesick and physically pained while doing that.”

“Nahhhh, untrue. It’s just—” He cuts himself off to purse his lips. Taehyun is one-hundred percent correct. “It’s just a little difficult to mask my emotions all the time, but I manage…”

Taehyun just shakes his head in obvious disappointment. Then he tilts his chin up towards the direction where Ryujin is laughing around with some girls from the cheer team. “She obviously likes you a lot. Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, lips forming a pout because this is so confusing. “But isn’t she basically signing up for the hurt if she’s doing this despite knowing where I stand with Y/N?

“Just…” Taehyun sighs. “Yeah, just don’t give her false hope.”

Beomgyu feels like he’s giving himself false hope every single time he talks to you, but what can be done.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You end up texting him first, that night, to cancel tomorrow’s movie night. You apparently have “plans” with a friend. 

Bile rises up Beomgyu’s throat at the thought of you finally going on a date with Soobin. 

He can’t get himself to directly ask if that is the case, but fuck, why won’t you tell him? He goes to sleep with a pain in his chest that night.

the feeling it was bittersweet, realizing i was in too deep…

As fate would have it, Beomgyu bumps into you at the very gates of the basketball stadium, the next evening. You look like a dream in your short skirt and varsity jacket.

He feels nauseous at the thought of discovering Soobin trailing behind you with a large drink with two straws, or something.

“Uh… these are your plans?” He says in a way of greeting.

Your eyes widen when you see him, but then you pout. “Yeah! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here? We would’ve come together!”

He immediately thinks of his promise to Ryujin and shakes his head. “Ah, actually… Shin Ryujin invited me.” 

Your mouth forms an O, a lost expression crossing your face. He’s never been great at reading people, but with the way his brain gets fuzzy around you, he’s doing an even worse job right now. Because he can absolutely not tell what this look on your face means. 

Right then, the girl herself arrives, a wistful smile on her face. “Thought I told you to not bring a date? And she’s wearing Chaewon’s jersey, hmph.”

“Oh! We didn't—”

You cut him off with a chuckle that somehow sounds a little strained. “Ah, I’m actually here with her sister!” 

Yunjin? He didn’t know you were friends with her… But that means no Soobin, right? Which might mean that no confession happened yesterday?

“Dude, Chaewon’s our Forward and our captain. No hard feelings!” Ryujin throws up a peace sign at you, and the two girls laugh.

After you leave to look for Yunjin, Ryujin stays back, smirking at him. But there’s a distinct look in her eyes that he can, for a change, recognize. Partly because the fuzz in his brain left along with you. And partly because he sees this look in the mirror everyday. 

“I don’t even stand a chance, do I?” She doesn’t sound upset, just… regretful.

Taehyun’s words come back to him. “Ryu, I—” 

“Nah, it’s fine. I knew what I was getting into, Choi.” She smiles, this time, pointing at the ‘17’ placard in his hands. “I’m gonna score a basket just for this, though. Cheer loudly, ’kay?”

she was a lesson – i had to learn, i had to learn, yeah…

Beomgyu had gone to the game only for Ryujin, not for you. He literally came here to escape movie night with you.

Yet, he sits in the stadium with his eyes straying from Ryujin’s great moves as Point Guard, reaching across the court, to land on you. It’s so annoying and makes him feel so helpless, he wants to scream. But there’s something magnetic about your presence that just won’t let him exist peacefully.

Is this how love is supposed to feel? Exhausting and painful at all times?

What adds to the exhaustion and pain is the way you are seated with your eyes bright and teeth on display, Yunjin on one side and…Soobin on the other. 

Though he saw it coming, Beomgyu still finds it really hard to swallow the pain that pricks at his throat at the sight of you giggling into Soobin’s side and looking at the guy with eyes full of a million stars. He tries to seek comfort in the way Soobin seems to reciprocate your happiness, but it’s really hard.

He isn’t even jealous at this point, he’s just tired. If he could stop himself from feeling so much, all the damn time, he really, really would.

The crowd suddenly cheers, drawing his attention away from you – thankfully – and back to the court. And then his eyes widen in surprise. Ryujin stands with her hands braced on her hips, gaze directly directed at him. Well – she said she would score a basket for him and she did. She lifts a hand to point at him, causing a louder cheer to roar across the stadium, and Beomgyu cannot hold back the loud chuckle that escapes him. He raises both his hands up in a double thumbs-up.

Somewhere from three rows below, Heeseung shouts out an expletive at him, but the game has resumed again so everyone around the guy asks him to shut up.

Like clockwork, Beomgyu’s gaze slowly floats back up at the stands, slowly zeroing in towards your seat – only to stop short. You’re not in your seat. And neither is Soobin.

Oh.

Oh.

Now again, Beomgyu should be prepared to face this as well. But he’s once again at a loss.

Unwittingly, his brain conjures up images of you and Soobin finding a secluded, dark corner to make out in. He envisions the brightness he just saw in both of your gazes, imagines the tinkling giggles you would release, pictures the darkening of your cheeks. 

And in that moment, he can’t find it in himself to be happy for you. He can’t pretend to like Soobin. 

He aches to be the one you would have snuck off with; to be the one you would want to share secret kisses with.

He aches.

And in that moment, he realizes his feelings have gone too far. They have caused him to stop being a true well-wisher to you; he is being selfish.

He needs to take a step back.

i used to try to forget her…

“Dude, the one thing I asked of you was to not hurt Ryujin. What the hell do you mean you’re taking her out?” 

Beomgyu pinches the bridge of his nose, almost regretting disclosing his plans to his best friend. But he needed Taehyun to be on his side to make sure he doesn’t chicken out. Although given the tone the guy is using with him right now, Beomgyu’s purpose might be failing either way. 

He puts his phone on loudspeaker, extracting a jacket from his closet to match the blue t-shirt he’s wearing.

“She was awarded MVP for yesterday’s game for the first time in this season. When I congratulated her on it, she called me her lucky charm—”

“Ugh, it’s as if she wants you to hurt her,” Taehyun murmurs and Beomgyu can hear the grimace in his voice through the phone.

“So I asked her if she wanted to celebrate the win with her lucky charm, and she said yes…”

Taehyun gives a sigh. “You literally flirted with her.”

“I did. Weren’t you the one telling me I should focus my feelings where they will be reciprocated?”

“Yes, you should. But do you even feel anything?”

“I do, yeah…” Immense sadness and despair with a brush of frustration. “I feel like I’m gonna have a good time with her.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” Taehyun gives another sigh. “Just be smart, okay? Don’t lead her on, Gyu.”

“I won’t, man.”

Settling on a black denim jacket that goes with his jeans and boots of the same color, Beomgyu leaves his dorm in the half a decade old Corvette his parents have permitted him to keep on campus. He’s meeting Ryujin at the cafe, which saves him from spending time in the car with her.

When he enters the cafe, though, Beomgyu begins to wonder if he has somehow offended some higher, superior power by some action of his, for which he is now being punished on the daily.

Because before he can even begin to look around for his date, a giggling Soobin catches his eye. He’s sitting facing the door, feeding spaghetti to his date. 

His date.

You.

Your back is to him, but Beomgyu can still see how you’ve styled your hair in a way that is different than usual. You’ve always complained that your hair is too silky to be held up in an updo—a remark Beomgyu can never understand because he, personally, loves the texture of your hair—and so this complicated bun feels so strange on you.

And the off-shoulder dress instead of your beloved full-sleeves. And the dangling earrings instead of your usual studs. And—

Holy fuck, this isn’t you.

This isn’t you.

Beomgyu is fully frozen in his spot now, stunned and panicked at the same time.

Soobin is on a date – with someone else.

Should he be happy or concerned? 

The sweat accumulating on his palms indicates the latter. 

“Gyu!”

The call snaps his attention to a corner of the cafe, where Shin Ryujin sits with a grin on her face. Pushing his lips up, he waves at her. But his eyes involuntarily swim back to Soobin once more – only this time, both the taller boy and his date, Kim Chaewon, the basketball captain, are looking at Beomgyu with matching smiles.

He doesn’t know how to respond. Or react. His smile is frozen on his lips and his hand is still up in a wave, however, so the couple take that to be his greeting and go back to talking among themselves. And Beomgyu pushes himself to finally walk towards Ryujin’s table.

“I see you already spotted what I was dying to gossip about,” Ryujin grumbles with a scowl when he settles opposite her. 

Beomgyu blinks. “Uh… Soobin?”

“Who?” This time Ryujin is the one to give a clueless blink. But then her eyebrows rise. “Oh, the boy. Yeah, in a way, I guess? But Chaewon, obviously. She’s finally on a date with her crush of a whole ass year.”

What? “O–oh?”

The waiter comes over to take their orders, right then. Beomgyu asks for a club sandwich and beer, while Ryujin chooses an extra cheese loaded pizza and a virgin mojito.

“You don’t want me drunk around you, loser.” She winks at him but her smile is forced enough to make guilt unfurl in Beomgyu’s chest. “Anyways! Chaewon! She’s finally winning at life and it’s all thanks to your girl.”

Beomgyu’s heart jumps up to his throat for multiple reasons.  

His girl? You? Who else could it even be.

He drily swallows. “My…?”

“She was so hard at work during yesterday’s match! Fuck knows what magical words she said to both of them but they finally stopped their cat and mouse chase for good.” A fond look enters Ryujin’s gaze as she peeks past him to look at the couple. “It was sickening, watching Chaewon pine day in and out. Kinda like it is to watch you.”

Ryujin is laughing at her own joke, but Beomgyu’s mind is stuck on the information she just imparted. “Yesterday’s match?”

“Yeah. She arrived with Yunjin, remember? They both sat with Soobin and talked about Chaewon the entire time. Then she said something to Chae during break, and boom – this scardy ass dude was finally asking Chae out at the end of the match!”

Oh, fuck. This is why you were sitting with Soobin yesterday.

You were setting him up with Chaewon. 

This is probably why you have been hanging out with the guy and generally interacting so much with him recently as well.

Wait, was this why you asked him that question about having feelings for a best friend? As far as his general university knowledge goes, Chaewon and Soobin have been best friends since before college.

Oh fuck, indeed.

Beomgyu really blew things out of proportion and let his overthinking mind carry him away.

“Speaking of – when do you plan to confess, Choi?”

Beomgyu scoffs at the question. “Never.”

Ryujin looks genuinely confused at the response. “What? Why?”

“She doesn’t feel the same, Ryu. And she’s my best friend. I can’t risk it.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

That’s – an odd question. One that Beomgyu feels like should be very obvious to answer, but when he opens his mouth to do just that, he has to shut it back again. Because ‘I just know’ is going to sound as stupid out loud as it does in his head. 

But then what else does he have? He thought you had feelings for someone else but that was obviously not the case. 

“I… I mean isn’t it obvious? She would’ve hinted at it… said anything at all if she felt anything…”

The moment Ryujin narrows her eyes and clicks her tongue, he knows he messed up. “Like you have? You’re sitting on your hands, too, dumbass. Does she even know that you don’t go on dates?”

“I’m on a date right now.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll leave this date with a black eye.”

The waiter arrives with their food, and as Ryujin dives right in, Beomgyu takes a moment to actually think about what the girl has been saying.

You not having feelings for someone else doesn’t automatically imply that you’ve suddenly stopped viewing Beomgyu platonically. Which is why he doesn’t want to suddenly drop his plans of moving on and go back to pining over you.

He wishes for this to be a smooth transition – getting rid of his romantic feelings for you while also staying friends. But if he pays mind to what Ryujin just said, he will block this way for himself.

Because the moment he confesses, it will be a one-way street. You’ll never talk to him again and he’ll be too embarrassed to even show you his face.

Now, of course, he isn’t even considering what could happen if you actually ended up reciprocating – because he’s done enough of that for years now and he’s honestly… tired.

Loving you, as he has concluded time again, is painful and exhausting. He just wants to be happy again.

“How about you stop giving me love advice and start looking for someone new to crush on?” Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at Ryujin, who picks up an olive from her pizza to throw at his face with a scowl.

But then when she dissolves into giggles, sprinkling her happiness and beauty all over him, Beomgyu has to pause to wonder if she doesn’t actually need to look for someone new to crush on.

He offers to drop her off at the end of the date and Ryujin thanks him for the treat. His hands feel a little clammy when she grins at him with a tilt of her head, short hair flying up with the wind.

“Will… will I see you again?”

“Uh, yeah? You see me everyday, dumbass.” Ryujin gives a chuckle but it doesn’t sound natural.

“No, I mean – like this. On a date.”

Her shoulders deflate and her smile leaves her face. Pursing her lips, she looks at him in what could only be defined as disappointment. “This wasn’t a date, Beomgyu. And I won’t be your rebound.”

He’s not asking her to be – except, maybe he is. He doesn’t know anymore.

She seems to know more than him because she gives him another one of those wry smiles of hers and pats his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel and get out of this stupid limbo. I can be your shoulder to cry on, but not a heart to play with. Good night, loser.”

He truly feels like a loser when she walks away from his car.

but now i smile when i remember.

Beomgyu has heard people talk a great deal about ‘right person, wrong time’ or ‘wrong person, right time’, but he has never felt the gravity of it the way he does now.

You’re sitting on the bleachers with Lee Heeseung and giggling your heart away like he’s the funniest man alive. Heeseung, to his credit, is looking at you with a sparkle in his eyes that rivals the entire galaxy.

And as Beomgyu watches the scene from next to the water dispenser in a discrete corner, the bottom of his stomach feels strangely calm. 

It’s been a week since he had that confrontation with Ryujin. He didn’t exactly take her advice and run to confess to you, but he certainly did drop hints. And he certainly did observe your reactions.

At the end, he ruefully finds himself exactly where he always has been – watching you offer your affections to someone else from afar.

“How long has he been keeping this in?” he asks around a scoff when Heeseung shows you some magic trick and gloats in your excited clapping.

Taehyun hums as he screws the lid of the water dispenser tight and dusts his hands off to come stand next to Beomgyu. “Fuck knows. I think he’s always smiled a little too brightly at her whenever—oh my God, did you see that? Butterfingers! I could see that card from here. Making a joke out of the best card trick in the books!”

Beomgyu laughs at his friend’s grumbles. Then he gives a sigh. “She looks happy, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she does. But I don’t really think she’s on the same page as Lee. Or even you for that matter.” Taehyun settles on the ground and Beomgyu follows his lead. “She’s enjoying her college days like a normal uni student. And maybe you should too, Gyu. Enough of this pining, enough of being in love. Don’t you want to get drunk off your ass and makeout with some ditzy freshman at a party?”

Beomgyu’s horror must show on his face because Taehyun snorts when their eyes meet. 

“Okay, maybe not all of it. But… we’re young, buddy. You’ll have plenty of time to fall in love. Hopefully this time with someone who loves you more?”

Beomgyu watches the way you lean closer to Heesung to whisper something in his ear, and as the guy’s cheeks grow red in response, he frowns to himself. 

“What about all those times when she seemed jealous? Or upset I wasn’t paying attention to her?”

“Dude, for real?” Taehyun punches his shoulder. “You get like that too when I’m not available at your every beck and call.”

Beomgyu slowly exhales, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head up to let the sunlight wash over his face.

He really is stepping out of his delusions, this time.

You don't like him like that. You don't have feelings for him.

You and him are going to remain just friends.

He's finally ready to face the fact and move forward.

“Yo, loser! Wanna play catch?”

He’s smiling even before he has opened his eyes. Taehyun clears his throat in an exaggerated way with his eyebrows raised. “Never seen you grin that brightly in a while, my man…”

He looks around towards the source of the voice, his grin turning into laughter at the evil gleam in Ryujin’s eyes as she hurtles the basketball towards him.

Somehow managing to catch it with an enraged gasp, Beomgyu wastes no time in chasing the girl with it.

Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he notices the way you have cuddled up with Heesung and how the two of you are laughing at his antics with Ryujin.

When he briefly meets your eye, you give him a thumbs up with your grin.

And for the first time in years, he is able to smile back at you without an ounce of pain in his heart.

and i was so young till she kissed me like a whiskey… like a whiskey.

FIN.

© yeonboy 2023 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

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