#interaction. lack of feedback they get from their readers is more than i can count on my fingers!!!

[hannie-dul-set]

i personally don’t agree with your statement what you’re expected to reblog. i thought i could just use this app for fun and to read about my fav artists without being expected to do anything, and never really planned on being active and making reblogging a routine parr of my reading experience

then i guess you're not really aware with how this app works. tumblr is a reblogging site. that's the only way posts, or in this case fics, can get around and reach new audiences. the algorithm doesn't care aboit likes. tumblr doesn't care about comments (but i appreciate those as well!!)

if you enjoy and have fun reading the works of authors who spend hours of their days making content for you to consume, don't you think the bare minimum you can do is click that tiny button at the bottom of the post to show your appreciation, no?

[navybrat817]

A Little Push

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he deserves to be with you, but gets a little push to speak up when he sees your ex. Word Count: Over 5.1k Warnings: E.S.C, unprotected (v)aginal (s)ex (wrap it before you tap it), shower (s)ex, jealousy, (f)lirting, insecurities, slight feels (it's me), idiotic Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) and an ex. A/N: For @drabblewithfrannybarnes and the gym prompt. I hope you like it! ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass (and thank you!), and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wondered some days if he made the right choice by working for S.H.I.E.L.D.. While he didn’t consider himself to be completely standoffish as he recovered, no matter how much Sam tried to joke about that, he still had a difficult time getting along with some of the agents. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He attempted to strike up conversations with a few, but that only led to forced interactions and awkward silences.

He didn’t try much after that.

Maybe they didn’t trust him because of his past, even with the work he had done with the Avengers, even though he had no choice in his past actions. He wouldn’t hold that against them. He was even ready to accept that his circle of friends would remain small, which he didn’t mind.

But he hadn’t expected you to come along.

“You can sit with me if you’d like.”

At first, he thought you were talking to someone else until he realized your gaze was on him. He didn’t recognize you, but he remembered Steve saying that they were getting a transfer from another division. He hoped he wasn’t glaring or giving you an awkward stare, but your beautiful smile threw him for a loop. Unless he was with Steve and the others, no one asked him to sit with them.

But you did.

It took another moment for him to respond, but he took you up on your offer and joined you. He also picked up on the stares right away from the other agents, like they were jealous that he managed to get your attention. He didn’t blame them for wanting it.

Especially since the next smile you gave him made him fall in love a little more.

Maybe love at first sight does exist.

“Do you go by Bucky or James? I can call you Sarge if you want, Sergeant.”

You explained over breakfast that you transferred because you needed a change and were excited to take on some new tasks. He didn’t pick up on any bad intentions as you spoke with him. He found it easy to talk to you. You even got a couple of smiles out of him.

“Thanks for sitting with me. Do you want to have breakfast with me again tomorrow?”

Bucky accepted.

As the two of you grew closer, it became routine to grab breakfast together in the breakroom and chat quietly between reps when you worked out. He even shifted his schedule around so the two of you could exercise together. He looked forward to it.

And naturally on his path to continue making amends, he had to punish himself by thinking he wasn’t good enough for you. Because why would he be? You became an agent to help others and how many had he destroyed? Not by choice, never his choice, but he was still waging that war in his mind and heart.

“Will today finally be the day, Barnes?” Natasha asked as she finished her stretches.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall as he waited for you to enter the onsite gym.

“Yes, you do and let it be today, please. I can’t have Rogers winning the pool.”

“You’re taking bets, Romanoff?” he asked with a cold stare, as if the Black Widow would cower under his gaze. “Un-fucking-believable.”

He told Steve in confidence that he liked being around you. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha found out not long after that. Steve said more than once that Bucky wouldn’t be breaking any bylaws by dating you. Natasha added in passing that mixing business with pleasure didn’t seem to bother you as you had dated another agent sometime back before your transfer. An amicable breakup from what Sam heard.

For living in a world of spies and soldiers, no one could seem to keep their mouths shut.

“I’ll split the winnings with you,” she offered unapologetically. “You can use it to take her on a date. You do have something nice to wear that isn’t a Henley, right?”

The smartass remark he had on the tip of his tongue died when you walked through the door. Clad in your normal black tank top and leggings with your bag on your shoulder, he found himself staring the way he always did as you glided along the floor with confidence and a smile. A few heads turned to get a glimpse as you walked by.

But you directed your gaze at him.

“Hey, handsome,” you smiled, setting your bag and water down. You didn’t call anyone handsome or any other sort of nickname, except for him.

“Hi?”

Why did that come out as a question?

“Hopeless,” Natasha muttered softly enough for him to hear. “Hey.”

“Hey, Nat. How’s it going?”

His cheeks warmed as you began your stretches and chatted with the redhead, wanting nothing more than to put his hands on your hips and guide your body. He wanted to believe that you liked him enough for him to make a move. Why else would you keep getting breakfast with him?

And why else were you bending over right in front of him in a pair of leggings that looked like a second skin?

Fuck.

“Oh, I have your book in my bag,” you said, looking at him from between your legs. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

Thank fuck I’m upside down from your angle so you don’t see me staring at your ass.

Guilt crept in as he blinked. You were nothing but kind and accepting and here he was oogling over you. Why couldn’t he get it through his head that he was your friend and nothing more?

On the other hand, why couldn’t he get it through his head that he had the right to be happy?

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

“Do you mind spotting me?” you asked once you finished warming up. “Unless you plan to help Nat. I can wait.”

“Oh, no. I’m just here for entertainment,” she joked.

“Thanks,” you smiled, heading to the first machine with Bucky in tow. “Any plans this weekend?” you asked, checking the weight on the bar before you took a seat.

“No plans,” he said, taking his spot at the end of the bench so he could spot you. “Kind of a boring old man.”

“You’re not boring,” you said, winking as you laid back. “But I’ll give you old.”

“Rude,” he smiled as you giggled. “What about you?”

“Nope. No plans,” you answered, giving him a glance as you set your hands on the bar. “No plans at all.”

Are you giving me an opening?

“That’s too bad,” is what he said.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you said with quiet disappointment.

Sorry, Nat. Not winning the pool today because I’m a fucking idiot.

Bucky kept stealing glances at you as the two of you went through your normal workout routine, unable to figure out how you managed to look beautiful while lifting weights. The fact of the matter is you looked beautiful to him no matter what you did. He fluctuated between his heart stopping and losing his breath whenever he saw you. Especially when you smiled at him.

And he wouldn’t take that leap.

“You know what sounds really nice? A massage,” you said, setting the weight down to grab your water. He focused on your mouth as you brought the bottle to your lips, his fingers flexing as you swallowed once. Twice.

Are you giving me another opening?

Before Bucky could think of a suave reply, the door opened. A tall, dark haired agent he didn’t recognize walked in and did a slow sweep of the gym. From the quick assessment, he gathered that the guy was in shape. He didn’t necessarily walk through like he owned the place, but it bordered on cockiness.

I don’t even know him, so why do I want to punch his face in?

“Wait. Is that Nate?” you asked, your gaze following the man as Natasha silently walked over to join you. “What’s he doing here?”

Nate?

“You know him?” Bucky asked as the guy, Nate apparently, stopped to chat with someone by the mirrors.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, setting your water down and wiping your hands on your thighs as you avoided his gaze. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex-boyfriend?

“You two worked in the same division, didn’t you? Before you transferred?” Natasha asked. You nodded in reply. “It didn’t work out with you two, huh?”

“No, but it wasn’t a dramatic breakup or anything. No hard feelings,” you explained.

Bucky remembered Sam saying it was amicable, but he still felt the need to shield you away from your ex. Even if he hadn’t spotted you yet. Maybe he was ignoring you. That couldn’t be it. No one could ignore you.

Did you want him to notice you?

“That’s a shame,” Natasha said, swinging her gaze toward Bucky. “He’s cute.”

Traitor. Thought you were my friend.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed.

Bucky grabbed the nearest barbell to get his head back into why he was in the gym in the first place, gritting his teeth so hard he was shocked they didn’t crack.

“And there’s this thing he used to do with his tongue that just…” you trailed off with a sigh.

The metal hand gripped the barbell tighter. Nate was an ex, not a current boyfriend. It didn’t work out for a reason.

“You need a moment?” the redhead asked.

“No, I just need to get laid,” you said, glancing at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

If you need to get laid, I can help you with that. Not Nate or some other prick. They’re not worthy of touching you. Neither am I, but that’s not the fucking point. I can do things with my tongue that’ll make you see stars.

“Bucky?” you asked gently. “Are you okay?”

Far fucking from it.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

You pointed to the barbell in his hands. “Because you just bent that in half.”

Glancing down at his hands, he saw that the stainless steel was indeed bent in half and ignored Natasha’s snort as he tried to fix it. “I was just testing the durability. It’s terrible. A health and safety hazard, really.”

“I didn’t realize your job involved quality assurance,” you teased as he set the piece of equipment down.

“It’s kind of a new hobby,” he said, a weird look crossing his face.

A new hobby? Really?

“Okay, Sarge,” you giggled.

Your laughter seemed to catch Nate’s attention since he immediately looked behind him. A look of realization crossed his features before he smiled. The look on his face made Bucky’s heart drop as he excused himself from the agent he was speaking to and made a beeline toward you. The man may not be your boyfriend anymore, but he still felt something for you.

Either that or the look of longing was easily faked.

“Hey!" Nate smiled as he stopped in front of you, opening his arms as he leaned in. "Good to see you."

“You, too. And you don’t want to do that,” you said, gesturing to yourself. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Never bothered me before,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. He met Bucky’s gaze over your shoulder with the smallest of smirks. “Smell just as good as I remember.”

“Don’t,” Natasha whispered to Bucky when the hug lingered for a few more seconds.

Bucky wasn’t planning on doing anything. Not right now, at least. Committing murder wasn’t on his “to do” list when he woke up today, but he was seconds away from snapping. Would you forgive him if he broke one of Nate’s bones?

“You must be Bucky,” Nate said once he released you.

He had to stop himself from shoving you behind his back. “You must be the ex,” he said, not bothering with any attempt to be friendly. “Why are you here?”

Nate either didn’t intimidate easily or he didn’t care. “You talked about me?” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

“No, not really,” you smiled a little, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

He tried to keep a straight face because he wasn’t jealous. He had no reason to be jealous. That certainly wasn’t the reason why his fingers began to twitch. Wasn’t the reason he wanted to knock Nate’s teeth in.

Not at all.

“To anwer your question, I accepted a transfer and was getting a look around the place. I was also here to exercise, but now I think I want to catch up,” he smiled, turning his attention back to you.

“You transferred here?” you asked in disbelief.

You don’t sound thrilled, which is a good sign, right?

“Yeah, I got promoted,” he explained, angling his body to put distance between you and Bucky. “You doing anything after this?”

“Me,” Bucky said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Maybe you didn't hear me.

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned around Nate to stare at Bucky. "I'm doing you?" you asked.

Fuck, you heard me.

"Yeah, Barnes. Is she doing you?" Natasha asked without a hint of humor in her tone as Nate glared over his shoulder.

"I mean," he cleared his throat as he tried to think of an excuse, which wasn't easy with three pairs of eyes on him. "She's hanging out with me. Movie night."

"It's not even nighttime," Nate said skeptically.

"It's an early movie night," he grumbled.

"Yeah, an early movie night," you agreed slowly. Bucky almost sighed in relief before you looked at Nate. "But we can catch up later, okay? Think my workout is over for now."

Bucky's mouth fell open when you went to grab your things. "But-"

"Movie night. I know. Thanks for your help," you smiled, but it seemed forced. "I'll see you later, Nat. And Nate."

"Later," Nate said, his gaze lingering as you headed toward the locker room. "She really is something, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," Bucky agreed, staring after you, too. He couldn't argue with that.

"It's really nice that you two are friends," Nate smiled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder as his blood boiled. "Enjoy your movie night."

Natasha stepped in front of Bucky before he could go after the prick. "Do not," she said as Nate headed toward another machine.

"I have to do something," Bucky said because he was close to losing it.

"You really want to do something?" she asked, tilting her head toward the locker room. "Go talk to her. Please."

"Fine. I will," Bucky said, stepping around Natasha as he made up his mind.

"I meant when she was done!" she called after him.

Bucky stalked toward the locker room and pushed the double doors open. He took a breath as he walked through the first row of lockers and spotted you sitting on the bench. Was he making a big mistake?

"You lost?" you asked, removing one of your shoes.

He crossed his arms and shook his head as you took off the other shoe. "You didn't do a cool down."

You met his eyes and smiled. "That's why you came in here?"

"Did you know Nate would be here?" he blurted out.

Smooth.

You blinked slowly at him before you removed your socks. "Nope. And why would it matter if I did? He still works for this organization. Besides, we broke up and moved on."

"If he moved on, why was he smiling at you like that?" he accused.

You stood up with a shrug. "Because we get along? He's a friendly guy. That's just how he is."

"I know how guys smile at girls they like," he said. He knew because he smiled at you that way. "He's still into you."

The frown you gave him made him want to kiss it away before you giggled. "He is not into me anymore."

"Are you two going to date again?" he asked, taking two steps forward. You were still out of his reach. "I know I don't have the right to ask, but I have to know."

Because you're not my girl.

“No, you don't," you confirmed, your gaze softening as you shook your head. "But no, I’m not going to date him again. He's my ex for a reason and that's that."

Bucky inhaled and exhaled slowly, able to breathe a little easier.

"Why? Would it bother you if I did? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous. Bending the bar? Your not-so-subtle excuse for me not to hang out with him? Following me in here?"

The words got stuck in his throat as you waited for an answer, an expectant look on your face. Why was it so hard to say that it would bother him? It shouldn't because if that made you happy, he'd respect that.

Was it wrong that he wanted you to be happy with him and not some other guy?

You hung your head for a split second before you turned back to your locker. "Look, are you done grilling me or are you sticking around?" you asked, pulling your top over your head. "Because I have to shower."

"You think I won't follow you and finish this conversation?"

Your bra came off next. He knew that because you tossed the garment at his face and he was too stunned to catch it. It took him a moment to realize that you were facing him again, your breasts on display as you placed your hands on your hips.

A gentleman would have looked away. A good man would have left. But he was something else entirely and he couldn't stop staring at the vision of perfection in front of him.

"You're free to do whatever you want," you said casually as you spun around and shimmied out of your leggings. His eyes followed the curves as your underwear came off next and it took everything in him not to throw you across the bench and fuck you until you screamed his name. "But I told you. I have to shower."

Bucky didn't speak as you grabbed your towel and shower bag. You didn't bother covering up as you sauntered away from him, like being naked around him was a perfectly normal thing. He wanted it to be a normal thing.

Was that an invitation? Should he take it? Or was it a test?

"Fuck it," he mumbled as he kicked off his shoes and stripped, leaving his clothes next to yours as he searched for you again. If you ended up screaming or punching him, he'd accept that punishment and beg your forgiveness later. He let this go on long enough.

He froze when he saw you under the spray of the water, his cock twitching with interest as he watched the droplets slide from your chest to the vee between your legs. You had your eyes closed and he wasn't sure if he should call out to get your attention. He didn't want to frighten you and make you fall.

You gasped when you opened your eyes, but didn't make a move to cover yourself. He imagined this is what some men saw when a siren lured them out to sea. Beauty that they weren't worthy of looking upon, but too far gone to care as the tide swept them away.

"I guess you really want to finish that conversation?" you asked, your gaze dropping from his face to his chest and a bit lower.

Under your gaze, he wasn't afraid of you looking upon his scars. "I was jealous. I am jealous. I hated seeing him touch you," he admitted.

He wanted to replace Nate's touch with his own.

"There's nothing to be jealous of," you said, swallowing as he moved forward.

"Can't help it," he said, not blinking as he moved closer. "You also said I could do whatever I wanted."

"I did," you nodded.

His wide shoulders blocked some of the spray as he stepped into the shower and backed you against the wall. "What if I said I wanted to do you?"

Very fucking eloquent.

"I'd say it's about fucking time since I've been trying to get your attention and it better not be a joke," you said, placing your hands on his shoulders as your gaze went to his chest again.

You actually want me. Fuck.

He grasped your chin and lifted your head. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile and his heart raced as his lips ghosted over yours. "You like me? And you want me to fuck you?"

He needed to hear you say it.

"I was hinting for you to ask me out this weekend. I thought it was obvious?" you asked, a small, vulnerable crack in your voice. "I like you, okay? I'm crazy about you. I have been since you sat down and had breakfast with me that first day and I-"

"I'm a fucking idiot," he whispered before his lips met yours.

His head spun as he kissed you unashamedly, unleashing the want he kept pent up for too long and showing no mercy as he swallowed down the moan you let out. His hands slid down to grip your ass, capturing another small sound in his mouth as he slipped his thigh between your legs. Now that it was out in the open, that you wanted him, he couldn't stop himself.

Unless you told him to.

"So, you like me, too?" you breathed out as he pressed kisses along your neck, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrust his knee against your wetness.

Gonna lose my fucking mind when I'm inside you.

"So much that I wanted to break Nate's fingers. Or his face," he told you, nipping over your pulse, but careful not to leave a mark. "Want you to forget all about that thing he does with his fucking tongue."

"You up for the challenge?" you teased before he growled.

"Up for it?" he asked as he slid a hand up to your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple as you whimpered for him. "I'm gonna ruin you. That's a fucking promise."

"Do it. Please," you begged, bringing a hand down to brush your fingers along his thick cock. "Ruin me."

You already looked overwhelmed with pleasure, your eyes half lidded and mouth parted as Bucky moved his knee away and brought one of your legs around his hip. He wanted to fall to his knees and get a taste, but he'd claim you later with his tongue. "Not letting you go if I have you," he warned you, helping you stroke him.

"You better not," you said.

Bucky could've put his fingers under the water, but he brought them to his mouth to wet them before he slipped it between your legs. "You'll be mine," he said as he teased your hole.

"I'm already yours," you gasped as he carefully pushed a finger in and thrust slowly.

"Are you?" he asked, brushing his lips against your jaw as he slid a second finger in. "Fuck, you're tight. You may kill me."

"Yes, I'm yours. And I won't kill you, but I'll make you sorry if you don't fuck me," you huffed impatiently.

He chuckled as he removed his fingers, missing the heat of your body. He understood not wanting to wait any longer. He fucked his own hand enough nights as he thought of you to know that it wasn't enough.

"What if someone walks in?" he questioned, sucking his fingers clean with an obscene groan.

I can convince you to take a day off just to eat you out, right?

"I don't care!" you cried, your voice echoing in the stall as he moved the tip of his cock along your folds. You canted your hips as you tried to take him in and, fuck, if that didn't feed his ego. "If you don't fuck me, I swear I'll- AHH!"

He groaned as he slid home in one thrust, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls gripped him like your life depended on it. He took a deep breath so he didn't lose it on the second thrust. Your perfect pussy was his new home. He never wanted to leave.

"Fuck, baby, you're so needy. I think you want everyone to see that you're mine now," he groaned as he caressed your thigh and drove in deep. Your cunt welcomed each slide as he kept your hips still with his other hand. "Gonna fuck you so hard you won't walk for a week. The way I should've from the start."

"Don't hold back," you moaned, clenching lightly around him. "I can take it."

Bucky couldn't remember ever fucking someone so possessively. "Pussy's even better than I imagined. Made for me. Made for me to wreck."

"Fuck, yes," you cried in response. "Touched myself thinking of you fucking me."

"You fucked your perfect pussy thinking of me?" he asked, imagining your fingers deep inside you. "Moaned my name?"

"Yes," you replied, biting your lip. "Fingers aren't as big as you."

Fuck. There's only so much a man can take.

"Look so beautiful taking my cock. Gonna be so good to you," he grunted, his wet hair falling in front of his eyes. If he had to guess, he probably looked unhinged. Feral. Out of control. "Not letting you go."

Instead of looking afraid, you reached up and lightly threaded your fingers through his hair as your leg shook against his hip. "I won't let you."

He kissed you, almost delirious as the rush of pleasure began to take over. You took his hard, fast thrusts, the symphony of your cries and his moans adding to the sound of wet, slapping skin. Later, he'd make love to you, kiss over every square inch of your beautiful body. He'd tell how crazy he is about you. How you made him happy again.

For now, he needed you to scream his name for the whole gym to hear.

"I'm close, Bucky," you panted into his mouth. "Please."

He doubled his efforts, thrusting so hard he lost his breath with each snap of his hips. "If you're really mine, come. Come for me."

You nearly sobbed his name as you quivered around him, a wave of wetness coating his cock as he kept up his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. "Good girl," he praised as you went limp in his hold.

It was a beautiful sight. Your dazed expression, your cunt clenching with a fresh wave of wetness as you whined. A fucking vision.

"I'm gonna…" he warned, his muscles tensing up as he got closer to the edge.

"Come in me," you begged, tightening around him again. "Please, I need it."

Fuck.

Bucky spilled hot and thick inside you with a guttural moan as he let the ecstasy within him explode, relieved that you didn't make him leave the haven of your body. He was careful not to crush you against the wall as he tried to catch his breath and process that what just happened was real. It wasn't a dream or fantasy. He had you in his arms under the warm water.

Could've had this ages ago if I spoke up.

His lips found yours, his kiss softer than the previous ones. He wasn't sure how long he held you like that, but it was everything he dreamt of and everything he denied himself. He wouldn't do that again.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," you smiled, your breathing still a bit tagged. "And I think I can still walk."

He growled playfully as he rolled his hips, thankful that he had the strength to keep holding you up. His stamina was good for some things. "Come to movie night and I'll make sure you don't walk. You did say you needed to get laid."

"I did say that," you smiled, nipping his bottom lip. "I'll do a movie night if you take me out on a real date."

"This weekend since neither of us have plans. I'd be a bad boyfriend if I didn't take care of you, right?" he asked, kissing the corner of your mouth to avoid your surprised gaze.

Pushed my luck this far. I can go a bit further.

"It's a date," you smiled.

Bucky smiled back as he reached over to shut the water off, wishing he could blame the warmth for the blush in his cheeks. "Sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass."

"I forgive you," you said, your nose nudging his.

"I just wanted you to have better," he whispered.

You deserve the best.

You blinked away the leftover pleasure that lingered in your eyes. "What? You're already the best guy I know, handsome. No one is better than you," you said, the sincerity in your eyes making his heart twist. "I know you'll be the best boyfriend for me."

Thank you.

"Well, as the best boyfriend, I think I owe you one more orgasm before we go," he smirked, his hands roaming your body. "If you're up for it."

"I'll take whatever you give me," you said before you smirked back. "But maybe I should thank Nate since he's the one who got your head out of your ass."

"Don't you fucking dare," he said, kissing you breathless before you could say his name again.

Bucky was your boyfriend now and the only name he wanted to tumble from your beautiful lips was his own. He'd do whatever he could to make that happen. And be the man you deserve.

Natasha watched from the corner of the gym as you and Bucky emerged from the locker room minutes later. You had stars in your eyes and Bucky looked over the moon. Your legs wobbled slightly and the soldier easily slid an arm around your waist to steady you and walk you out. He even threw Nate a smirk and a wink when he got a glimpse of the two of you.

The redhead messaged the group chat for the bet once the two of you were out of sight. "Locker room. I won."

"What? I was so close!" Steve messaged back.

"Cheater!" Sam sent. "I know you got her ex transferred here. Don't deny it."

"I did not get him transferred. I just knew and didn't tell them he'd be here today. I expect my payment at dinner tonight."

The redhead put her phone away as she tried not to smile. Bucky just needed a push and she wasn't afraid to play a little dirty. But she'd keep her word and split the winnings.

The two of you deserved a nice date, after all.

Oh, Bucky. Whatever will we do with you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[weareapackofstrays]

A New Kind of Love: Chapter I

Genre: Non-Idol college au, slight enemies to lovers (more like they annoy e/o at the start), angst, romance, drama

Pairing: Minho x F!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Cigarette Smoking, Mention of Weed, Cussing, Spanking, Rough Sex, Reader is a bit of a brat. Let me know if I forgot anything! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 1,958

Summary: You didn't grow up with great examples of love. Your parents were always at each other's throats. As a result, you have struggled with expressing your true feelings and can come off cold or defensive. After your boyfriend of 2 years cheats on you during freshman year with your childhood best friend, you decide to swear off love for good. Now in your second year of college, you move into the basement apartment of a house full of college boys. Inevitably crossing paths with one of them, Minho quickly gets under your skin in more ways than one. Despite your differences, you can't stay away from him.

A/N: This is my first fic ever to be posted and will likely not be great, but gotta start somewhere, right? I would love any feedback or thoughts (but please be nice or I might cry).

Song that was on repeat while I wrote this and thus became the title

Chapter I: Introduction Next

“Fuck, right there!” you shout as your nails dig into the hand gripping your waist.

“Like that?” Kyle, your usual drunken mistake, confirms.

“Yes! Ahhh,” you can feel your high fast-approaching. 

“God, you look so filthy like this, sweetheart! Gonna fill you up.” Your dress is pushed up to your waist while your breasts spill over the top exposing them to the cool air. Kyle admires your bare ass jiggling with each of his thrusts. 

You roll your eyes at your partner’s words and do your best to focus on your orgasm. It’s not that you hate the guy, you just couldn’t really stand him either. He was a frat boy and far from your type, but you were both drunk, horny, and he always happened to be conveniently around when you needed some attention. So fast forward to now, where you are currently shoved against the door of the upstairs bathroom of whoever’s house this was getting your guts rearranged. 

“I’m gonna come!” you announce.

“Yeah, come for me, baby! Come all over my big fat cock,” he preens as he slams into you.

“Kyle, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” He laughs while his tip kisses your sweet spot perfectly. You moan at the blissful sensation. His free hand grabs hold of your hair and yanks your head back suddenly. The unexpected force causes a groan to escape from your throat. Kyle begins to pick up the pace and gives your right ass cheek a loud smack. Just as the searing pain registers, you finally come with a gasp. He shoves your face further into the door as he works towards his own high. After a few more ruts, he empties himself into the condom and finally pulls out. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this, sweetheart.” Kyle smirks as he buttons his jeans and adjusts his belt. 

You pull up your panties and face him, “This is the last time, Kyle.”

“Sure it is, babe.” He gives you a wink and an air kiss as he turns to the sink to wash his hands. Even you could hear the lack of confidence in your voice. Ignoring his comment, you fix your makeup and hair, tug at the base of your dress one last time, and exit the bathroom. The two of you descend the stairs back into the chaos of the party. The music is thumping in your skull and the five hunch punches you threw back earlier are starting to get to you. You want to leave.

Kyle leans, more like stumbles, into your side and shouts, “Hey, I’m gonna get another drink. You want one?” You instinctually cringe away from his close proximity and loud voice.  

“Sure,” you say with a nod. After Kyle disappears into the crowd, you push your way through the partygoers and find the front door. 

Finally outside, your ears take a moment to adjust to the silence. It was dead quiet outside with scarcely anyone around, save for a few people huddled together enjoying a smoke. You take a deep breath and let the cold air sting your lungs. A breeze cuts through you and you immediately regret your choice in outfit tonight. Luckily, your house was a short walk away. You step onto the paved sidewalk and can feel your legs wobble slightly. Your heels were also not the best choice for a walk. Okay, Y/n, focus, you think to yourself. Taking a few more tentative steps, you find your stride and head home.

You moved into the basement apartment of an old brick house from the 30’s at the start of the semester. The main floors above belonged to some guys who you rarely ever saw and, honestly, probably couldn’t pick them out of a crowd if your life depended on it. You had only had a few conversations with one of the guys, Jisung was his name…you think. He introduced himself a few days after you moved in while you were checking the mail on the front porch. 

-

“You must be our new neighbor,” you jump, taken aback by the sudden announcement. Turning to face the source of the voice, you see a brunette boy with round cheeks looking at you with doe eyes. He reaches his hand out to greet you. 

“Yeah…hi,” you say shyly as you take hold of his hand.

“I’m Jisung.” He flashes you a gummy smile.

“Y/n.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” he says as he releases your hand.

“You too.”

“If you ever need a cup of sugar or a good weed guy-” Jisung waggles his eyebrows mischievously. “We’re just a few steps and a knock away.” He gives you a salute before going back inside the house. Well, he was adorable, you thought. You only ever saw his roommates in passing and had only exchanged a few words with Jisung since, but he was always kind to you. 

-

As you finally approach the house, you reach inside your pocketbook to grab a cigarette and lighter. Hands shaking, you repeatedly click the lighter, but it refuses to work.

“Shit,” you quietly say to yourself. You were about to give up when a figure steps out from the shadows and alights a bright flame before your eyes. After a moment of adjusting to the darkness you see a man standing beside you, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. You look at him bewildered, before you dip your head down. He holds his hand in front of you to protect the flame from the breeze. You take a drag of the cigarette and slowly exhale the smoke from the side of your mouth to avoid blowing in his face.

“Thanks.” He simply nods in response. You take a moment to look him over while he tries to light his own cigarette. He was broad, but lean with dark brown hair. He was also handsome, like super handsome. What the hell? Have you seen him around before? Surely you wouldn’t forget a face like his, right? He furrows his brows as he leans in closer to his flame. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms revealing a few large tattoos. You take note of his protruding veins and involuntarily gulp at the sight. He finally lights the cigarette and takes a puff before facing you. You peel your eyes from his toned arms to meet his. The man quietly smirks as he catches your roaming eyes. 

“I’m Lee Minho, by the way. I don’t think we ever officially met.” He gives you a lazy wave rather than a handshake. 

“Y/n,” you wave back and internally cringe at yourself. “You’re a roommate of Jisung’s?”

“Yeah, I live,” he turns around and points to the top window on the right. “Right there.”

“Nice,” was all you could think to say. You look away and take another puff of your cigarette while rubbing your temple. The consequences of tonight’s actions were swiftly starting to catch up. 

Minho stirs you from your thoughts. “I didn’t know you smoked.” You’re taken aback by his assumption. He notices your confusion and clears his throat. “I just mean I never see you out here,” he says awkwardly. “And I assume you wouldn’t in that tiny basement.”

You consider momentarily whether or not he was insulting your apartment before speaking. “I..I don’t usually. Honestly, just socially or when I’m drunk.”

He slowly raises his eyebrows as he exhales some smoke. “Are you drunk right now?” His face furrows again. You wonder if that is his natural state.

“Maybe just a smidge,” you make a pinching gesture with your fingers and lightly giggle.

His face turns serious. “You shouldn’t be walking around this late at night by yourself, especially if you’re intoxicated. Something could happen to you.” You’re amused by his interest in your safety. 

“Yes, daddy,” you say back a little too sarcastically. 

Something shifts in his eyes though you can’t quite make out his expression. You feel his eyes bore into you despite part of his face being hidden by shadow. You, on the other hand, are at a disadvantage as the beams from the street lamp illuminate your face. Minho can see the pink rapidly forming on your cheeks. Trying not to cower at his intense stare, you hold his gaze for a minute before he finally breaks the tension.

“Do you normally dress like this in the middle of November?” He gestures to your tight, short black dress.

“I was coming from a party.”

“I gathered.” You scoff at his attitude. “Still, seems a bit reckless walking around without a coat.”

“What are you? The weather police?” You stand up a bit straighter and cross your arms.

“No-” You cut him off before he can continue.

“Does the way I dress bother you?” Officially annoyed, you can feel yourself getting worked up. Maybe you are more drunk than you originally realized.

“No.” Minho’s expression remains emotionless as he can see the anger rise in you. Taking a few wobbly steps towards him, you point your finger into his chest and ignore how solid he feels beneath to continue your beration.

“I can dress however I want regardless of the weather. I can also casually smoke a cigarette or drink a few drinks whenever I want and I don’t need anyone judging my actions, let alone a man I just met 5 minutes ago.” You slightly sway as you retreat from him. Minho gently places a hand on your right shoulder to steady you. The warmth from his touch sends a shiver down your spine through to your core.

“Okay, princess. Whatever you say.” You wrinkle your nose at the pet name and he notices your disapproval. 

“Okay, princess,” you say back in a mimicking tone.

“Do I need to help you get to your apartment?”

“I’m fine,” you brush his hand off your shoulder with your own and feel your stomach flutter at the touch. You curse yourself internally for being so affected by this annoying handsome man.

“There are stairs and you’re in,” he looks down at your 4 inch heels and points. “Those.”

The audacity of this man right now. “Now he judges my choice in shoes!” You tsk and throw your hands in the air. “I can see myself all of 10 feet to my front door just fine without you. Thank you very much.” You take one last drag of your cigarette before throwing it to the ground. Your front heel presses firmly into the bud to snuff out the embers. Once out, you bend down to pick up the extinguished bud. Minho takes a moment to admire your bent figure in front of him before you stand up again. 

“Wow, a feminist and she doesn’t litter.” You walk past him ignoring his comment. “Good night, Y/n. It was nice meeting you,” he says with sarcastic cheer.

Still walking away, you lift your hand up and flip him off as you head to your door. He shakes his head laughing as he watches you arrive safely. He takes one more drag from his cigarette before turning in for the night.

Holding the knob you pause before entering. You listen for his steps as he walks up the porch to his door. You try to clandestinely peek around the corner to get one last look at him. Minho is about to twist the handle when he feels your gaze. He looks over and catches your eye. Before you can see his reaction, you quickly look away and open your door. Slamming it shut you lean against the cold metal and exhale. Your heart starts fluttering in your chest.

Fuck.

MASTERLIST

Let me know what you think!

I will try to post Chapter II tomorrow.

-

[gemini-stories]

remember me (2) | j.wy x reader

synopsis: the years may have passed but he always remembered you. even when you didn't. pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader genre: idol!AU, friends to strangers to partners to lovers (?), smut (minors do not interact!!) warnings: idol wooyoung, idol reader, smut, swearing, a tad bit of angst, mutual pining, oh.oh (I really wanted to use this trope in this story!), unprotected vaginal penetration (bad irl!!), mirrors (iykik), reader is bitchy, wooyoung finally stands up for himself (and the end makes him happy:D), miscommunication (I hate this but I swear there's a reason for it). nothing too dirty but if I miss anything pls let me know! word count: 5.1k ish a/n: when I first got the idea for this I thought I knew exactly where it was going. I was so wrong:)) the story kinda wrote itself in the end. I wanted to apologise for the miscommunication trope but it was so necessary for the development of both reader's and wy's development (don't hate me too much, it was all good in the end:D). as usual I’m open to any feedback and criticism so don’t be shy to let me know!! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ previous part ─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

“You did what?” Hajun started laughing.

“You heard me the first time,” you rolled your eyes, reaching for the takeout Hajun brought to you half an hour ago, when you called him for an embarrassing emergency.

“Obviously I did. But I wanted you to say again how you sat on the pretty boy’s face.”

You couldn’t say the whole situation happened out of nowhere. You couldn’t deny the tension between you only got stronger since the stupid sexy dance.

You expected Wooyoung to mention your little very hot interaction. But he didn’t! He was acting as if nothing happened, back to being the sloppy, careless, unreliable, and spineless self.

And that pissed you off even more. Was he ever going to mention anything? How long were you going to wait? You gave him plenty of opportunities! Right? You were the one that went to him first. And what did he do? Pretend you never met, never existed. Unimpressed. Careless. 

Sloppy. Unreliable. 

And spineless. 

“All I’m saying is, you two seemed to enjoy each other. So I see nothing wrong about it,” Hajun continued slurping from his drink.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Dude, what complications?” he asked skeptically.

“I can give you about a gazillion..dude.”

“If it’s about our eternal love, I can take my pity ass and my heartbroken heart and disappear in the sunset,” he wiped a fake tear from his right eye. To which you could only reply by laughing.

“No, but I’m serious, you know our arrangement was never something that should be complicated and could be ended whenever it wasn’t useful for any of us.”

“I know,” you sighed, “and trust me this has nothing to do with it. I swear.”

“Then? What’s the problem?”

Then? What’s the problem? You. You were the problem. And your lack of sincerity. 

And Wooyoung’s.

But, oh well, two could play this game. If he was not going to say anything, why would you. You continued your practice like before. Him messing up, as usual. And you bitching about it with snarky remarks, as usual. Him never replying back, as usual. And you getting more pissed because of it, as usual.

You tried to ignore the feeling of his touch, and the electricity it was sending to your body each time. Thinking about dead unicorns should help.

His hands glided over your thighs, ripping your skin with them, leaving you open and raw, falling into his arms. Finally, this dance move was a success, at the price of you being skinned alive. You looked into his eyes. Really looked. And could only silently beg him to look back into yours. Really look. 

“Are you ok?” Hongjoong asked. You were almost finalising your studio session of the day and to say that you were distracted was not enough. You were not your talkative opinionated self and that was making Hongoong slightly uncomfortable. He felt you staring at the screens over his shoulder the whole time, without you making any remarks to the changes he was making to the song segments. It was too weird for him. He had to ask. It was your decision if you were going to be honest or not.

“Why did you propose for Wooyoung to be my partner when I told you I was looking for one?” you asked absentmindedly. 

“Did he do something?” he turned to face you. “Did he say something? What did he do?”

You kinda mentally chuckled at the thought of Wooyoung misbehaving so much that this was Hongjoong’s first thought, that he did something. Not that he was wrong though. He did more than something. He said more than something too…focus. Dead unicorns.

“Nothing, nothing. I was just curious.” You nudged.

“Oh, okay. Well, he is the best dancer I know. So, I thought it would be a great solution for you and a great opportunity for him, for a great collaboration with the second best dancer I know,” he smiled.

“How dare you?” you gasped, pretending to be offended. “At least tell me I’m the best singer you produced a song for. So I can forgive this audacity!”

To which Hongjoong remained silent and continued to smile, returning to his work. 

“Rude,” you scoffed.

If only Wooyoung could live up to Hongjoong’s title. You knew he was great. Amazing even. You were an Ateez fan after all. You knew what he was capable of. You watched all his performances. So why was he not giving his best with you too. 

You two had another video call with the choreographer, after your latest dance video submission. He was disappointed and he was trying really hard to hide it. 

“Wooyoung, I watched some of your videos man, and what I see now doesn’t seem like you.”

Exactly what you were thinking!

“And you Y/N, we worked together for years. I know you. This doesn’t seem like you either,” he sighed. “The second choreography was meant to strengthen your chemistry, not make it worse. Please, try it again for a couple of days and then go back to your routine. Accept each other’s movements.”

How could you go back to the second, hot and dangerous choreography. You both silently agreed to not mention it again. Dead unicorns, right?

You were stiff.

He was flustered.

This was never going to work out.

“What is this?” you asked reaching for the small pink box from the bench where you’d usually leave your bag at the beginning of the practice.

“I, I wanted to apologise,” Wooyoung started with a shy smile, “for everything. Everything.”

You opened the box to find a dozen bunny shaped biscuits, topped with white icing. The asshole.

“No thanks, I don’t eat sugar.”

The room turned a couple degrees colder. You politely closed the box and put it back on the bench, starting your morning practice.

Nothing was working how you wanted. For the first time in weeks it was you making stupid mistakes. Wooyoung was doing god’s work trying not to start laughing at every mistake. The fact that he was aware of your mistakes was making you even more self-conscious and you hated feeling that. You knew exactly when was the last time you felt like that and you swore to yourself to never feel like that again. But here you were now. In this situation. And there was only one asshole to blame. 

“Did you really think that apology was going to work?” You couldn’t keep it in you anymore and asked staring into his eyes, when he was on top of you.

“What?” He stopped in the middle of his step.

“The stupid biscuits, what were you thinking?”

“I thought it would be a nice gesture. How should I know you don’t eat sugar?”

You groaned loudly, continuing your steps.

“It’s not even about the sugar.”

Wooyoung was so confused. You were always weirdly cryptic in a mad way, but this time it was…weird in a weird way. Most of the times you were annoyed by things he was not doing, and this was a first - being annoyed by something he did do?

He was surprised you never mentioned the incident. He didn’t want to be too greedy so he didn’t do it first.  He could swear something possessed him that day. He was so…cheeky that day. Was he cheeky with his partners before? Sure. Would he have done something like this with someone else? Of course! 

How did he do it with you? He couldn’t comprehend. He was never cheeky with you. For god’s sake he couldn’t even argue with you when you kept bitching during practice. 

So what on earth went through his mind? 

The same nasty thoughts he always had when he thinks of you. The same nasty thoughts he always had when you were in a five meter radius from him.

The same nasty thoughts he always had when he touched you.

He blushed the whole way home that day. He blushed while getting ready for bed. He blushed while taking a shower. He blushed while drawing stupid hearts on the shower glass. He blushed while taking a picture. He blushed while thinking of you when writing the caption. He blushed when he saw you liked the post. 

He was so far gone.

All the possible conversation scenarios went through his mind that night and he was ready to have any sort of uncomfortable talk with you. But you acted like nothing happened and didn’t say anything. So he didn’t either.

He thought about apologizing. For everything. And what better way than with something sweet. Two things that were always recurrent on your old instagram were bunnies and desserts. So he thought, what could go wrong with some bunny biscuits. Right? 

Apparently many things because you were mad about it. For some reason Wooyoung couldn’t understand. It was a different type of mad from the one you constantly showed in the past weeks. It was more of a sulky mad, which Wooyoung actually found adorable. 

But nevertheless you were mad. And that never helped your dance practices before, it wasn’t going to help now either.

It was most certainly not helping you while getting flustered during the dance.

You mentally refused to call for Hajun in the past days, especially for your quick breaks during the day. You really wanted to, but you couldn’t. A different person was flying through your thoughts when you were thinking about it. Your arrangement with Hajun was nice and convenient but you’d never fuck him while thinking of someone else. You were not like that. 

So you were left just with your thoughts.

And the memory of that day.

How hot and electrifying it was. How hot and electrifying he was. Nope. Dead unicorns!

“Is your dance practice going well?” Hongjoong questioned Wooyoung after just arriving at the studio with a bag of take out that Hongjoong asked for.

“Amazing.” Wooyoung breathed, paying attention to the food packages, looking for something he could nibble on. “Why?”

“Y/N cancelled our session today saying she wants to focus on the dance as there’s ‘some setbacks that she couldn’t foresee’”, he emphasized with air quotes and squinting his eyes. “What did you do?”

Wooyoung scoffed. “Why do you think I did something? We weren’t supposed to practice today and I have no clue what these ‘setbacks’ are about. Maybe she didn’t want to see you today and lied about it. Did you think about that?” he giggled while stealing some fries from Hongjoong’s plate.

“Y/N wouldn’t lie.” Hongjoong stated matter of factly, as if he stated the sky is blue.

He was honest about it as he was honest about the image he had of you - sincere, hardworking, professional and sweet and caring and, and definitely not a liar that avoids a day of work.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. Of course she wouldn’t. 

Okay, maybe indeed you wouldn’t lie. Break promises? Forget about them? Stamp on them? All plausible events.

“You know what I don’t get?” Hongjoong continued opening his sauce.

“I have a really long list. With what do you want me to start?” 

“You think you’re smart, dumbass?”

“I do, in fact.” Wooyoung smiled proudly.

“Nevermind then.” Hongjoong hated how Wooyoung wasn’t serious about this conversation. He wasn’t serious from the beginning and Hongjoong thought it was just a caprice. One that continued for longer than he expected. The reason why he really wanted to understand what this was all about.

“Come on, don’t start sulking like a bitch and tell me!”

“I know you are a stupid fanboy in, what you think is a secret, but when you talk about her you sound like you hate her. What’s up with it, it’s weird dude.”

From all the item’s on Wooyoung’s list, this was not one. Did he really make it sound like he hates you? Was he stupid? He didn’t want the others to know that he admires you so much so they wouldn’t tease him about it, but he didn’t want the opposite either…from the outside perspective it looks like he hates you?

“I don’t hate her. I could never hate her.'' He was looking anywhere but at Hongjoong, not being able to face him, now embarrassed by himself. 

“I know that. But if you act with her like how you talk to me about her, I have bad news for you.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated for who? You? Then uncomplicate it.” Hongjoong sighed. “We can’t afford not having great results out of this collaboration. It’s not only good for you or for me. It’s good for all of us. Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.”

Is he fucking it up?

He scrolled through his camera roll until he found the picture he was looking for. A picture of the red velvet cake he bought a few days ago as a nice gesture for the team. The cake was cut in eight even slices, with one slice missing, that he ate by himself because he was too impatient to wait for everyone to be back home and eat it together. Maybe he was always a little bit too impatient and expected too much from others.

He edited the picture, putting a filter over it, that would fit the rest of his feed and posted it on his secret account with the caption: ‘I bleed on the plate in front of you and you sip my blood even though you are not thirsty.’

You sighed looking at the picture and reading the caption and put your phone aside. You were alone in the dance room, trying to take your mind from anything else but dancing. You had to admit, Wooyoung was not the only one making mistakes. You had to focus and get it done with it!

The last time you felt so incompetent while dancing was in your first year you took lessons. You were maybe five or six. You didn’t understand much, thinking that dancing is just vibing with the music. You cried at your first competition after making a mistake on stage, making you feel not good enough. You promised yourself then and there to never feel like that again. And you never did again. 

You were startled when the door opened and Wooyoung entered, holding a small pink box.

“We were supposed to have the day off from practice today. What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I should ask you,” he smiled a sweet smile. “I wanted to bring you some of this, I swear they have no sugar,” he passed you the small box that you opened and saw the same bunny shapes. It was crackers this time, no sugar. “It’s from this bakery that I really like and I swear it’s really nice.”

You scoffed, closing your eyes and clenching your jaw. “Why are you doing this?”

“I thought it would be nice.”

You pushed the box back to him and looked up straight into his eyes. “Why the fucking bunnies?’

“I thought you’d like them.”

“Why? Why would you think I’d like them?”

Please, for once, say it.

“Because they are cute?”

“For fuck’s sake Wooyoung,” you turned your back to him, pretending to go back to your practice. “Forget about it.”

For once, when Wooyoung got annoyed he did talk back to you. He wanted to just leave. If you didn’t want his gift he wasn’t going to insist. But you had to go and run your mouth and touch his most sensitive nerve. Too bad. “That might be something that you can easily do. But I don’t!”

Were you hearing right? He talked back! Finally. Too bad he also had the audacity. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I never forget anything important to me,” he continued.

“Oh, sure you don’t forget anything,” you interrupted, mocking him.

“But it seems forgetting comes effortlessly for you. Since you probably don’t care about it, it doesn’t matter and it easily disappears from your mind, no?”

“I came to you!” you stopped his rambling. “And you forgot me! You forgot our promise! You forgot to fulfill it! I gave you so many chances and each time you acted as if you forgot everything. Even this stupid fucking choreography. I wanted to do it with you from the beginning. But then you acted like you never cared about it? You were late, you were not putting in effort, you were not even defending yourself.”

And it was out. You kept it in you for so long. It was bound to happen. Was it sort of kind of the reason why everything wrong that he was doing was making you so bitchy? Definitely yes. And now it was sort of kind of out in the open. You could finally confront him about him being the bad guy in your story.

“You, you knew all this time?”

He wasn’t sure he heard right. You knew. It wasn’t just him. But you too.

“I knew what? That we made a stupid promise that you never kept when we were ten? That we met again four years later and I came to you and you acted like you had no idea who I was? That the next year was the same? Even worse? That we were working in the same fucking industry but you never once remembered? Then, yes, yes I knew about all this.”

It was never a stupid promise. Never for him. Thanks to it he actually continued his dance lessons as a child. He ended up winning so many competitions. The scouts from the company noticed him. He debuted. He is here today, with you, preparing for the end of the year awards. He was always grateful for it, even when he thought you didn’t remember. It was never a stupid promise. 

“I never forgot. I knew it was you!”

He was unbelievable. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you threw your hand in the air, in a sign of desperation. 

“I was embarrassed, okay?” Wooyoung fidgeted in place. It was the first time he was going to admit this out loud. Not even in his thoughts did he ever admit it. “Because I wasn’t able to keep the promise and win, I felt like a failure.” Indeed, he never fulfilled his side of the promise. He did win the competition, but he didn’t “snatch” the first place from you. You were not there. And that was the only reason he was able to win. Which was proved years later when you two were competing against each other and you effortlessly won. He never got first place with you there.  

“This is so dumb. I only made that promise with you because I thought you were sweet and cute,” you blushed, “and I didn't want you to abandon dancing, and I wanted to see you again the next year!”

“But you moved away.” He stopped your train of thoughts. As if he found the flaw in your story. It was 100% not only his fault here. 

“But I moved away. And I was still hoping you’d win the stupid competitions so we’d meet at regionals!” Fair excuse. In fact, it was not your fault that you moved. You were too young and you were going where your parents were going.

“But then you acted like you didn’t know me there.” See? Another flaw in your story.

“I wanted to see if you remembered me! And it was obvious to me you didn’t!” Which seemed perfectly reasonable to your fourteen year old brain. Now? Not as much. But back then you could swear this was the most romantic thing you could think of - testing to see if he’d remember. Almost like testing the power of destiny. 

“I wanted to see if you remembered me! I didn’t want to embarrass myself even more, hanging on to a promise from years ago.” Valid. Very valid. Extremely valid. Both to his fourteen year old self and the present self.

“Oh my god?” you groaned. “Not even when I made this whole elaborated plan to have you as my dance partner couldn’t you tell? It took me months to think of something.” 

“You did say your favourite was Hongjoong though. That reinforced to me that you didn’t remember me in fact.”

You groaned. After you debuted you gave up on seeing Wooyoung again. He remained a bittersweet memory in your mind, thinking of him constantly. Wondering what he was up to. Then he debuted as well. The universe was really giving you another chance.

Now, you only had to find a way to be together and see if maybe maybe he could remember you. Which was obviously not easy. Be it award shows, or music shows, it was never the right moment or the right time.

Then an interesting thought crept into your mind. You were going to work on your solo album and have an important  dance segment. You could definitely have a collaboration of some sorts with him. But how were you going to ask for it without it being too suspicious. 

You never lied by saying you wanted to have a song produced by Hongjoong! It was just such a wonderful result of how your plan was going to work. 

“I was giving you signs too!” Wooyoung complained. 

“What?” you got closer to him. “The bunnies?” you raised your chin to face him. “The pictures with cryptic verses?” you squinted your eyes.

“What pictures with cryptic verse?”

There was no way you knew about it. You couldn’t. How could you?

“Don’t act dumb now. I know all about your secret account. And I know you know I know. I even followed you!”

Wooyoung was panicking. “How did you know it was mine?”

“Oh please, the profile picture is your hand as a pinky promise,” you started, “and some things you were writing were fitting with things you were doing.” you felt your cheeks burn just a little bit.

“Like what?” maybe you were bluffing, or simply testing him, as it seems you were testing him constantly. Nevertheless, he was curious what gave him away. It couldn’t have been just the profile pictures. 

“You know…things.”

“I actually don’t,” he looked down at you through hooded eyes, suspicious. You were fucking bluffing!

You avoided his glare, looking away when you finally said with a small voice, “The shower heart convinced me it was you.”

Oh. Oh.

So it was like that. The unspeakable.

“See, that’s another event you were acting like it never happened and you never mentioned it.”

“You never mentioned it either,” you opened your eyes accusingly. 

“Why do you keep waiting for me to do things first?” he closed the distance between your faces, breathing you in. “What was I supposed to say? Can you sit on my face again? Would you allow me the privilege to eat you out again?”

“I didn’t… I never…You…could’ve…” you swallowed your words because anyways you didn’t know what you wanted to say.

Wooyoung chuckled at your loss of words, couldn’t believe you were not having a comeback. It was fairly easy to do and he scolded himself for not doing it earlier, as you were too cute squirming there not uttering a word back to him.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” he smirked, eyeing your lips. He wanted to test this limit of yours. 

“Don’t be an asshole.” And…you were back to your bitchy defensive self.

“Oh, I’m the asshole? Don’t act like I’m the bad guy now.”

“No. I don’t act anything. Yes, you are the bad guy in my story. So what, I am probably the bad guy in your story. You know we are all bad guys in someone’s story.” You could ramble on and on, deflecting the attention from you to whatever you were trying to say.

Wooyoung cupped your cheek bringing back your attention to him. “Can you just… shut the fuck up for once and let me kiss you.”

He pressed his lips on yours, shyly nibbling at your lower lip. He deepened the kiss, lowering his hand on the side of your neck. You smiled against his lips and shortly giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Wooyoung furrowed his brows. 

“You are acting differently.” You started playing with the zipper of his hoodie, unsure if you should say this. “One day you don’t even look me in the eyes and then the next you tell me to shut up and you do this?” 

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a sheepish smile.

“You mean this?” And kissed you again, deeper and sloppier. “You just got me acting up.”

It was so easy for you to get lost into the kiss, feeling it like a warm embrace in your whole body. 

“I think I might like you more when you actually talk back,” you said in between kisses, trying to gasp for air.

He continued a trail of kisses on your neck, which you found extremely dangerous.

“Maybe we should practice the choreography,” you whispered.

“I thought we were not supposed to practice today,” he breathed on your skin.

“Well since you came all the way here, we shouldn’t waste any time, right? Time is ticking and we should send a new recording.”

You felt his other hand caressing your waist. You really wished you weren’t wearing a sweater. He stopped his sweet sweet kisses and looked at you.

“I think I might like you more when you shut up,” he grinned a shit-eating grin.

“Smartass.”

You did say you liked him more when he was talking back and that was exactly what he was doing.

He didn’t remove his hand from you, one still resting on the small of your back and one still kneading your neck. He was waiting for your next move. If you really wanted to practice, that’s what he was going to do. If not, he also had other ideas.

“Fuck it,” you sighed, reaching for his lips. 

You kissed him exactly how you wanted to kiss him the day he entered through the door of your practice room, hungrily and passionatly. 

Wooyoung’s hands found their way under your sweater, gliding on your bare back for the first time and sending shivers through your body.

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.

That was the moment the flip switched in his brain. You chose the section option. To hell with the dance practice.

He guided you to the nearest wall, where you could finally rest against something. You could swear your knees were going to fail on you. 

You quickly unzipped his hoodie and peeled it off him smoothly. He wasted no time and took off his shirt in a swift motion. You trailed the lines of his chest with your fingers, leaving the ghost of your touch burning up his skin.

“One from me, one from you,” he tugged at the hem of your sweater. You raised your arms letting him take it off for you. You wanted to see him work for it. He removed your white top without warning, leaving you half naked.

“That was actually two from me,” you chuckled.

He was kissing the top of your breasts. Licking and delicately biting your soft spots.

“How beautiful,” he whispered against your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, completely leaning between the wall and him and his kisses. You could feel him through your thin leggings and you loved that you had this effect on him. You couldn’t help but slowly move your hips. Yup, you were hot and bothered. How could you not, when you were showered in his sweet kisses.

His hand traveled lower, under your leggings. 

“You do have a habit of not wearing underwear, huh?”

You felt your cheeks turning red. Yes, that was a habit you could say. A habit that you were so going to continue practicing from now on.

You unhooked your legs, allowing him to take off your leggings. He took his sweet time pulling them down, and then slowly kissing your leg up to your thigh, ending up with a sloppy kiss on top of your pussy.

He was in the middle of unzipping his pants when he stopped. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“That’s literally the last thing i care about right now,” you scoffed and unzipped his pants yourself.

Wooyoung gleamead and kissed your forehead tenderlly. “You are so perfect.”

You raised your right leg, to make space for him. He took out his cock, aligning himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside you. 

Your hips were moving by themselves, you wanted him deeper and deeper. Closer and closer. All of him.

He grabbed your other leg too, hooking them both behind his back. You were wrapped around him, locking him in place. There was no other place he’d rather be except between your legs.

You were softly moaning in his ear and he could swear this was what heaven sounded like. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, increasing his pace, “this feels better than I ever imagined.”

Your lips pursed in a devilish smile, “You imagined this?”

“And so many other things.”

You could not get enough of him. Your eyes were rolling back in pleasure and you were struggling to keep them open and focus on the opposite wall’s mirrors. You could see Woyoung’s back reflecting in the mirrors, his back muscles flexing with every little thrust. You just wanted to have a bite of it. Too delicious to resist. You rested your head on his shoulder, kissing and grazing it with your teeth. That should do. For now.

Wooyoung grabbed your ass cheeks, squeezing them, trying to pull you closer. You were feeling your orgasm, almost there, ready to make you explode and see fireworks.

“So good.” 

“So beautiful.”

“So perfect.”

His praises were what sent you over the edge, riding through your high. For which he was thanking all the gods as he was ready to cum the moment he first kissed you. 

He quickly pulled out as he felt he was going to cum and finished on your stomach. You looked down to your stomach, that was now wet and sticky.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get to ask. And I didn’t want to finish inside without asking.” He was breathing hecticly, recovering from his high.

You touched your stomach, your legs still hooked around him. You traced your fingers through his mess and brought them close to your lips, licking them clean, while keeping eye contact with him.

“You are killing me.” He said, looking up at the ceiling, trying to contain himself.

But oh his neck looked so beautiful.

And you definitely weren’t able to contain yourself, so you started kissing it.

“You’ll make me hard again,” he chuckled. 

“And?” You smiled against his skin. “Didn’t you say you imagined more things? Show me what you had in mind.” | © 2024 gemini-stories All Rights Reserved.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

A Mutually Beneficial Agreement (M) ~Bang Chan | [2/3]

Pairing: Demon!Chan x AFAB.Reader Themes: Supernatural AU | Angst | Smut | Some fluff Word Count: ~14k | AO3 Synopsis: Your favourite demon seemed to be full of surprises, some you could more than get used to, but others that… you weren’t sure you could get used to at all. [You can find part 1 of this story here]. Warnings: religious themes · pet names · alcohol consumption · harassment (it’s kinda mild but still yucky) · corporate bullshit · there’s a lot of focus on the reader’s feet, but not in that way · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: because i am incapable of being normal, here’s a part 2 to what was supposed to be a fun little one shot. especial thanks to @notastraykid and @decembermoonskz for reading this before anyone else and sharing their very valuable feedback with me💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Smut Warnings: literal monster cock · oral [F.Rec] · rimming [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv] (the reader is presumed to be on birth control) · lack of aftercare (due to unforeseen events. you know i don’t write my Christophers like that, but i figured i should give a warning for those of you that get triggered or feel yucky after reading something like this).

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

The marble wall was cool against your back, a complete contrast to the heat against your torso. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to coat your skin, enough that the friction produced between your back and the wall with each movement was starting to become uncomfortable, but, being honest, it was hard to register it. It was hard to care about it at all.

The place was cool around you, yet you were burning up. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, all you could do was hold onto his shoulders, trusting him enough to not let you fall while he held you in his arms and took you wholly, right there against the wall, right here on sacred land.

There were pants and heavy breaths and quiet moans mingling with the sound of frogs croaking somewhere outside. They were always loud at this time of the night, loud enough that you could hear their symphony in here.

Plush lips were attached to your collarbone, gently nibbling and sucking on the thin skin. The attention alone easily pulled desperate whines out of your mouth, but, coupled with his calculated thrusts, it all had your mind completely melting into a puddle.

You clawed at his back, sometimes ruffling the dark feathers under your fingertips. He’d always shiver whenever you touched him here, especially towards the base of the appendages. 

He was so good.

He was so, so good, and you just loved him so much. More than you’d ever loved the sun. 

You were convinced meeting him was the best thing to ever happen to you. He was warm and caring and just absolutely everything. He’d become your everything. 

His presence soothed you, his displays of affection made you feel full, he managed to satisfy you in ways you’d only ever dreamt of, and he simply made you feel things you’d never felt before.

How could you possibly need anything else? 

You didn’t.

You just needed him.

His pace was relentless, his tail wrapped around your thigh, just because it could, and you vaguely realised you’d been caressing one of the horns on his head along with his feathered appendages. His wings enveloped you both, shielding you from the outside world, they provided a warm, safe cocoon just for the two of you.

Against everything you’d been taught, against every single belief you’d been indoctrinated into, you simply adored him. 

When he pulled away from your neck, you couldn’t help but open your eyes. He looked at you like you were the sun. Like he adored you. 

Staring into that gentle brown, you could feel that pool of arousal in the pit of your stomach steadily filling up, you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into this seemingly endless lake of lov–

Your body jolted at the sound of your alarm.

You hated alarms. You needed them, but you always hated them. Sleep was precious to you, it let you disconnect from the world around you, it recharged you, which was exactly what you had needed before you took this nap earlier this afternoon.

Tonight was important, so of course you set up your alarm, even if you hated it. You couldn’t just sleep it off and miss everything, not after weeks and weeks of planning.

As you sat up on your bed and stretched your limbs, you could feel warmth all around you. You dreamt often, several times a week since the day you gained awareness. However, you could never remember your dreams. Whenever you woke up, it seemed like that feeling of warmth was all you had left.

It almost made you feel… sad. Or, maybe a better word to describe the emotion you felt would be melancholy. Why you felt this way, though, you weren’t sure.

No point in dwelling on it. Tonight was the big company event you’d been waiting to attend for months now. You were hoping to do some networking, to make acquaintances with some of the higher-ups, so you had to look and act your absolute best to achieve that.

A good scrubbing, and a scalding-hot shower later, you stood in front of your bed, staring at the two outfits you had splayed out on top of your duvet. A bright red dress, very short, very… slutty. It would certainly drive attention to yourself, which was kind of what you wanted, but would that be the type of attention you needed? Your friend had told you any attention was good attention, but was it really?

The other dress was a bit more modest. Royal blue, with the tiniest bit of sparkles sprinkled all throughout. It wasn’t as short, but it had a slit that was high enough to drive attention, while also sitting low enough for it to not be too much. It was honestly your preferred option. You’d worn it before, you knew you looked good in it, and you felt fairly comfortable wearing it.

So you did.

Eye make-up to match and a lipstick to contrast adorned your face. You started putting on your jewellery, trying on different options to make sure you wore the most suitable accessories.

As you did, the energy in your room shifted. The air got thick, in that exact way that made you dizzy, that almost made your knees buck under the pressure.

“Oh? Going somewhere, pretty thing?”

Of course Chris would choose the worst possible night to appear in your bedroom… Of course just his presence and the sound of his voice would light up your insides like a Christmas tree.

“I am”, you replied simply, fastening your earrings before you finally turned to look at him.

Chris sat cross-legged on your bed, barefoot, clad in that flowy, hanbok-like, silky suit he always wore. The colour matched his eyes, black, barely even reflecting light.

Placing his hands behind him, Chris leaned back and looked at you. You could feel his gaze trailing your form, from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes.

He seemed to be fixated on the silver ring you’d put on one of your toes for a moment, right before he returned his eyes to yours and offered you a smirk.

“You look good”, his tail unravelled from where it'd been resting around his waist, and the tip of it started to mindlessly trace the side of his thigh.

A smile spread across your face. “You think so?”

With a slow twirl, you offered him the full three-sixty view of your outfit. By the time you were looking at him again, his tail had fully wrapped around his thigh.

“I do. It’s a shame that such a pretty dress will be torn to pieces soon”.

You clicked your tongue at him disapprovingly, placing your hands on your hips. “This was an expensive dress, you know? Unless you can replace it, I won’t give you consent to do it”.

As the words left your mouth, a pout formed on Chris’ lips. It honestly made him look… adorable. What an odd gesture for a demon to make, but you had long since stopped trying to understand his ways.

“So it’s your work thing, huh?” Chris un-crossed his legs, letting them fall from the edge of your bed to plant his feet on the floor. While he was still leaning on his hands, with his legs spread like this, a small–and very horny–part of your brain started urging you to get on your knees. But you just… ignored it.

It still surprised you that Chris remembered these things. You vaguely recalled telling him about this a couple of weeks ago, right before you fell asleep after hours and hours of letting him have his way with you. Sometimes, the things he remembered about you made you wonder what he did when he wasn’t here. Did he just have a supernatural photographic memory, or did he truly care? You never really got the courage to ask…

“Mm. Tonight’s the big event”, you briefly looked at the clock on your bedside table. You had to leave soon, otherwise you might get stuck in traffic, which could possibly ruin your plans for the night.

Chris just hummed in acknowledgement, but he didn’t say anything else. You didn’t, either. You simply walked towards your bed, and, ignoring that sudden urge to straddle him and settle yourself on his lap, you sat down next to him before you reached for your heels.

The heels matched your jewellery, they weren’t necessarily comfortable, but they certainly went well with this dress. You slipped one of them on, and just before you started wrapping the long straps around your heel, Chris moved.

“Let me”, he mumbled, kneeling in front of you and taking the straps out of your hands.

It was honestly insane how the mere contact of his fingers on yours made your heart skip a beat. You supposed it made sense, considering who he was, or, more accurately, what he was, considering what you often did together… 

Slowly, gently, Chris started wrapping the straps around your heel, making his way up your leg. You just looked at him, alternating your focus between the horns protruding from his skull, to the features of his face, and to his hands diligently working your heels.

“Tonight I might not be… I might not have enough energy for, uh… Y’know”, for you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name, would’ve been an accurate statement, but you honestly felt like saying it out loud would trigger something. It wouldn’t have been the first time you missed an appointment you had because you’d said something similar…

Chris chuckled, finally tying a knot to keep the straps in place just below your knee. Thankfully, he’d used enough pressure for them to be secure around your leg, but not enough to cut your circulation. 

His attention shifted to the other leg. Holding your ankle, he eased the matching heel on your foot before he started repeating the motions with the straps of this one. 

Chris was working very slowly. Almost as if he was dragging out the moment…

You realised he was, in fact, stalling, the moment you felt his lips on your shin. Saliva started pooling in your mouth at the sight and the feel of his lips on your skin. His eyes were closed, but he was somehow still performing his task with ease, all as he pressed lingering kisses up your shin, until he reached your knee.

For a moment, your subconscious was screaming at you, telling you to open your legs and let him ease himself right in between them, but, not only could you not let that happen right now, it also didn’t seem like that was Chris’ goal. On the contrary, his lips stopped at your knee, right before he opened his eyes and looked up at you.

If you looked hard enough, you could’ve sworn you could see stars swimming in the endless darkness that were his eyes.

“It’s okay, sweetheart”, his lips brushed against your skin with every word, and, somehow, that was the moment you started to feel your cheeks heating up. “I’ll be honest, it’s not like I’m thrilled about it, especially not after seeing you like this, all dolled up… But it’s fine. You’ve got your own life to live, after all”.

A gentle smile made its way to his face. It seemed to contrast with his overall look, with his horns and the void in his eyes and just his aura in general… But, somehow, it still felt genuine. It always did with Chris.

You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth, and it wasn’t until Chris looked away from your face to focus on tying the straps of your heel, that you were finally able to look away from him to check the clock.

You sighed. “I have to go”.

With one final kiss to your shin, Chris finally let go of your leg and stood up from the floor. He offered his hand to you, you simply took it and let him pull you up from the bed before his arm wrapped around your waist and his tail found your thigh. 

You held your breath in anticipation, closing your eyes only when his free hand found your cheek. 

You felt his plush lips on your forehead, and, for a moment, you could’ve sworn you had started trembling.

Chris was so warm. His closeness made you dizzy, the way his tail tightened on your thigh made your mind wander, it made you remember what it could do, what he could do to you… 

Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair, and your lips were on his, savouring the taste of him on your tongue. Sweet, but not overly so. Just perfect, like the flavour had been crafted specifically to your own tastes. Chris’ hold on your body tightened, and the moment his tongue made contact with your lips you simply let him in, because why wouldn’t you? 

You figured a small treat couldn’t hurt… As long as you didn’t let him get you out of your dress, as long as you managed to pull yourself away from him within the next five minutes, it should be fine. You deserved this much.

A few moments passed. Moments where all you could register was both halves of his tongue and his lips and his warmth. But then he pulled away from your lips. You mindlessly chased after him, because you just wanted more. You really, really deserved it. You needed it.

Chris just pulled back a bit more, fixing his eyes on your lips before he pressed his thumb to your lower lip. He swiped over the plump, moist flesh, and his eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit.

“This is some good-ass lipstick. Not even a single smudge…”

He sounded genuinely annoyed by it, and it honestly made you chuckle. “Maybe they should add demon-proof as a selling point”.

Chris chuckled at that. With a shake of his head, he returned his gaze to your eyes, just as he pushed his thumb inside your mouth. You gladly accepted it, gently sucking it further in as you slowly ran your tongue over the pad of it. 

“I’ll drop by later to check in on you anyway, alright?”

You hummed in agreement, letting his thumb fall out of your mouth. He could drop by at any time, regardless of how inconvenient it could be. Honestly, you wanted him to drop by… You just hoped you did have enough energy left later in the evening.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say died on his tongue, cut off by the shrill of one of your trillion alarms resonating in your bedroom. 

With a deep breath, you finally let go of him. His tail loosened from where it’d been holding onto your thigh, finally moving away from you completely as you started to walk away. It left the faint imprint of snakeskin behind, and the area started to redden as well. Quite noticeably, if you might add.

You weren’t sure if you were mad about it or not.

With one final look at yourself in the mirror to fix your hair and make sure your make-up had, in fact, not smudged, you finally took your clutch from where you’d placed it on your dresser hours ago. 

“I’ll see you later, then”, was the last thing you told Chris before you left your room, trying to ignore the odd–and completely out of place–empty feeling that started to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Two hours into the event were enough to remind you why you usually didn’t attend these things. Yes, you’d managed to make yourself known to some important people, you’d done exactly what you came here to do, but you were starting to wonder if it had been worth the hassle at all.

Your lower back was screaming at you, your feet ached, and suddenly sitting at the bar and drinking a few cocktails sounded like the only possible thing that could keep you from ripping your jewellery and heels off of your body. The music blaring through the speakers didn’t help one bit, it seemed like happy hour had started, and people were going absolutely crazy on the dancefloor.

Good for them.

Not good for your overstimulated senses, though. 

You hoped that at the very least, the next time you applied for a higher position, you wouldn’t have to go through so many hoops to get it. You were good at your job, better than some of the people in power in this company, but ultimately, knowing someone important would always give you the upper hand.

It was detrimental to your financial independence. More money meant less time paying that debt that seemed to always be looming over your head. If only your mother hadn’t done what she did, maybe you wouldn’t have to be working here at all…

“Can I offer you a drink, pretty thing?”

You felt your skin crawl at the voice resonating next to you. Turning your head, you found your sleazy co-worker deep into your personal space. He reeked of alcohol and tobacco, and you honestly hated it.

You hated him in general. He was always inappropriate, misogynistic, and condescending. Unfortunately, the man was kind of smart, as in, there was no physical proof of his unacceptable behaviour, which was exactly why Human Resources never took you seriously when you reported him.

Swaying the glass in your hand the tiniest bit, you silently let him know you already had a drink. You hoped he’d take the hint, but clearly, he didn’t. He stood over you, with that disgusting smile on his face, waiting for your answer.

“No, thank you. I’m drinking something already”, you took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore his existence altogether.

“What about a dance? Mm?” He placed his clammy hand on your bare shoulder. God, you wanted it gone immediately. “I’m sure this lovely dress you’re wearing would look great on the dancefloor”.

You were two seconds away from throwing your drink at him. For a brief moment, you debated on doing it. On one hand, you’d give him a very assertive message, maybe it would stop him from making advances at you altogether. But, on the other hand, that’d cause a scene, and you weren’t sure you were ready for that kind of attention. It could jeopardise the good impressions you’d made tonight…

“Ah, there you are. Everything alright, sweetheart?”

Your eyes widened in shock, and your head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice. The shock wasn’t only due to his presence, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Chris randomly popped up around you when you were out and about, but, usually, he appeared only for you to see. 

Looking at him right now, it was clear that this wasn’t one of those cases. 

His hand found the small of your back, the gentle warmth emanating from his palm was a complete contrast to the stuffy feeling of your co-worker’s hand on your shoulder. Even if Chris looked different, there was no denying who he was, there was just no doubt in your mind. You could feel the familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you stared at him, even when he looked this… normal.

There were no horns on his head, and his hair had been straightened. There was no tail dragging behind him, and, most shockingly, there was no darkness in his eyes, they were just… brown. Regular brown eyes, like any other man could have.

But… Chris wasn’t any other man.

“Who the hell are you?” After giving Chris a once over, and after noticing the undeniable proximity he had to you, your co-worker removed his hand from your body, but not without letting his fingertips graze your skin as he did.

The motion was repulsive, like the rest of him was. It had you almost gagging, but you tried your best to contain yourself, you didn’t particularly feel like displaying any emotion that could be used against you. Because, even if he was the harasser, you knew he was more than capable of turning any blame on you.

Chris offered the man a friendly smile, one that, quite honestly, didn’t really reach his eyes. “Oh, I’m just the plus one”, he gestured to you with his head, moving his hand from the small of your back to instead wrap his arm around your waist.

You’d learnt with time that Chris was a very… territorial creature. You supposed it made sense that he’d consider you part of said territory, all things considered.

“I–I didn’t know you had a boyfriend”, your co-worker looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, it almost felt like he was reprimanding you, like he was implying you had somehow cheated on him for having a ‘boyfriend’.

Chris wasn’t your boyfriend, though. He was… He definitely was… Well, he was someone in your life, that much was certain.

Before you could even speak, Chris had opened his mouth. “We like to keep things private, and between friends only”.

Your co-worker just scoffed, mumbling something to himself. Chris took the opportunity to speak again. “Fancy a drink? What do you like? Vodka? Whiskey?”

The man was clearly taken aback, but he answered anyway. “Rum”.

“Rum it is, then”, Chris signalled the bartender and asked for two glasses of rum, all without removing his arm from your body. If anything, he seemed to be getting even closer to you.

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. What an absurd exchange this all was… You’d never been too fond of overprotective men getting into your business, but, you’d have to admit… It felt a bit different when that overprotection came from someone like Chris.

They both started talking about nonsensical things. Topics you weren’t really interested in. You honestly preferred for it to be this way, you’d come to the bar to try and enjoy some peace, after all. At least, the music had started to lower in volume, and the songs being played seemed to be getting slower and calmer as the minutes went by.

When the bartender came back with Chris’ order, the demon finally let go of your waist so he could take both glasses in his hands. You blinked a bit as you watched him give one of the glasses to your co-worker. For a moment, you could’ve sworn the liquid had turnt much darker than the one in Chris’ glass.

You didn’t have enough time to focus on it too much, though. Your co-worker downed the rum in one ungracious gulp, making you scrunch your nose in distaste. 

Chris gave you a small smile before he returned his eyes to the man in front of you both, taking a single sip of his drink. His eyes were different than usual, but you could see mischief dancing in them.

For a moment, you wished his attention was on you again, instead of that idiot stumbling in front of you.

After a few more words that you didn’t quite hear, your co-worker finally said his goodbyes.

Good fucking riddance… 

The friendly mask crumbled off of Chris’ face as soon as the man started to walk away. He stared daggers at his back until he got lost in the sea of people. You supposed you shared the sentiment, but that didn’t really make any of this make one bit of sense.

“Done showing your feathers, you all-mighty peacock?” You couldn’t help but say before you brought your glass to your lips to take a sip.

Chris’ eyes returned to yours, chuckling as he brought his hand to your shoulder, to place it right where your co-worker had earlier. Your body’s reaction was completely different this time around, though. A shiver threatened to rush up your spine, but not out of disgust. Quite the opposite, actually.

“What? You know very well this doesn’t even come close to me showing my feathers”, Chris’ fingers found your ear, he caressed your earlobe with his thumb and index finger, further agitating the flying critters in your belly. “Besides, that would imply I felt threatened by that guy. If anything, his vibe just pissed me off”. 

“Fair enough”, you shrugged, drinking what was left of your cocktail before you settled the glass on the bar. “Now, enlighten me, please. Why the hell are you here?”

Chris looked at you for a few seconds, before a smile spread on his lips. “Dance with me and I’ll tell you”.

Your eyes went wide in surprise. It seemed like that was Chris’ mission tonight, to completely surprise you. 

The music had finally settled to slower rhythms, you glanced at the dancefloor, only to find couples dancing to the intimate tunes. It was nowhere near as packed as it’d been before you came to the bar, but there were still enough people that you would blend in just fine, so you figured there was no harm in humouring him. “Fine. Let’s dance, then”.

Chris offered his hand to you, which you accepted. He guided you to the dancefloor, leaving his barely touched glass of rum completely forgotten on the wooden surface of the bar.

Your feet were still aching, but you felt fine enough to handle a couple of dances. Deep down, you genuinely just wanted to enjoy this one in a million opportunity. This wasn’t something you did often. When would you ever get the chance again to dance with someone you were so intimately connected to?

As soon as you made it to the dancefloor, Chris placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you flush against his body. You just followed his movement, moulding yourself to his body, holding onto his shoulder and his hand as if they would be the only thing to keep you swaying your hips to the gentle music.

He was always so goddamn warm… His presence enticed you, just like it always did. Even with this… odd look of his, you could still feel the effect his energy had on you.

“You look so weird”, you mumbled in his ear as you continued to follow the music. Chris chuckled softly, lowering his hand the tiniest bit on your lower back. “Don’t get me wrong, you still look handsome. But… ‘suppose I’ve gotten used to seeing your true form”.

“You think I look handsome in my true form?” There was a teasing lilt in his words, and, somehow, it amused you.

“‘Course I do. Wouldn’t let you fuck me if it weren’t the case”.

You felt Chris’ sharp intake of breath next to your ear, and his hands tightened their hold around you. “Don’t make me think about fucking you, pretty. I might end up taking you right here if you do”.

You scoffed a bit, with no real malicious intent in the gesture. “Be honest with me, do you need me to bring attention to it for you to think about fucking me?”

“Ah, you caught me”, Chris chuckled softly. As you danced, he pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, right before he mumbled, “Maybe I think about you a little too much”.

Those simple words immediately kick-started your heartbeat. How foolish of you to let his words affect you like this… Chris was a demon. The demon you’d summoned in a moment of weakness. He was just that, nothing more. “Is that so?”

“Mm…” Chris’ hum vibrated against your cheek, it almost felt like it was penetrating into your skin and rattling your insides. 

There was barely any space between your bodies, you occasionally looked around you to make sure no one was paying too much attention to you, but for the most part the only thing you could truly focus on was the melody floating in the air, and Chris’ presence all over you. 

“Why do you think I keep coming back for more?”

That had you inhaling a shaky breath.

This was nothing.

It meant nothing at all.

It was just Chris playing into your deepest desires, giving you what you needed, what you’d asked for from him. You were well aware of that, but… sometimes, you kind of wanted to believe there was truly more to it.

“Is that why you’re here tonight, then?” Your lips ghosted over his skin when you asked the question, just because you had wanted them to. You wanted to feel his smooth, heated skin, and if you couldn’t have your hands on his bare body because of his perfectly tailored deep blue, almost black suit, you might as well make do with his cheek.

“Pretty much. I was already up here, so I decided to stick around”, you were sure Chris was close to straight up placing his hand on your bum with how he kept moving it a bit further down as time passed, but, at this point, you didn’t care about stopping him at all. “As creepy as it might sound, on the days that I can, I find myself around you quite often. I just never make my presence known”.

You pulled yourself away from him a bit so you could look him in the eyes, completely perplexed. 

Chris chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t worry, pet. I only do it in public places. I don’t follow you to private spaces, and if you’re at home, I just show myself”.

“As if that makes it any better, creep”, with a smirk on your face, you scoffed, tightening your hold on his shoulder as he kept guiding you in your dance.

Chris didn’t have any remark to bite back, he just smiled at you, in that way that turned his eyes into little crescents. Cute…

As you looked at him, in his tailored suit, wearing that small flower brooch which suspiciously matched the colour of your dress, with that slit in his eyebrow and his brown, very human-looking eyes, you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing something. Like there was a little gremlin in the back of your mind trying to hand you a piece of information, but it couldn’t quite find it.

“This look of yours… You look familiar”, your eyes jumped all over his face, taking in his features.

His very handsome features…

Chris blinked a bit in silence before he replied to you. “‘Course I do. I’m… well, me”.

“You do. But, y’know… That’s not what I mean”.

Chris just shrugged. “I just look like every other guy out there, probably”.

Every other guy just wouldn’t look this… this good. Besides, he did look like himself somehow, just without his demonic traits. Same face structure, same body built, but even then, there was something in his eyes that felt… oddly familiar.

You didn’t say anything else, just hummed to acknowledge him before you leaned into him to rest your cheek on his shoulder as you continued to dance.

You spent a handful of songs more on the dancefloor, until you just couldn’t ignore the many different parts of your body that were bothering you. After a simple ‘Chris… My feet hurt…’ your unexpected companion for the night took you to the closest surface you could sit on. 

Twenty minutes later, and after saying your final goodbyes to your bosses and any other relevant person you’d interacted with that night, you were in the back of an uber. With none other than Chris himself, as if he even needed a car to get places.

“Haven’t been inside one of these in decades…” Chris mumbled in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

You hummed to let him know you’d heard him, but it was hard to tell him anything when one of his hands had found its way into the slit of your dress, and he’d boldly placed it on your bare thigh. The way his lips pressed slow, gentle kisses on your neck, certainly didn’t make it any better.

Oh, how easy it was for him to rile you up… Sometimes he didn’t even need to do anything. A simple kiss on your pulse-point was all it took for heat to gather in the pit of your stomach.

You could tell he had no intention of dragging his hand further up your thigh than it was necessary. He simply caressed your skin up to a certain point on your inner thigh, and then squeezed a bit on his way down, again and again…

The sound of taps brought your eyes away from the sight of Chris’ hand to instead look right in front of you, where the driver was tapping a plastic board hanging from her seat. ‘No sexual activities on the backseat. The driver of this car reserves the right to deny service’.

“Oh, don’t worry, ma’am”, you tried your best to steady your voice as Chris kept kissing your neck and your shoulder, completely unbothered. “He just gets a little clingy and handsy after drinking, but he’s mostly harmless”.

A lie, but a lie you had to say to this woman. Because how else could you explain any of Chris’ habits to this stranger you would probably never see again?

The woman in front of the wheel sighed, tiredly. “Men, am I right?”

“Damn right…” You replied simply, returning your attention to Chris’ hand that seemed to be groping you with a bit more force now, but still not reaching any indecent territory.

Mostly harmless, hm? Is that so, baby?

Oh, no…

Dealing with his touch was one thing, but dealing with his touch while he spoke right into your thoughts required a completely different level of self-restraint.

With a deep breath, you crossed one leg over the other, not only trapping his hand between your thighs in hopes of hindering his movements, but also trying to get some relief from the ache that had been steadily building between your legs.

Chris’ hold on your thigh tightened all of a sudden, almost, almost making you squeal out loud. You should be given a fucking prize for how well you kept that sound inside of you.

Mmm… Wanna keep my hand stuck right here? I don’t want it to, though. If only it could be my head clamped between your thighs right now instead… Wouldn’t you like that, little human?

You closed your eyes as you felt Chris’ lips press a kiss behind your ear. With a deep breath, and a tight hold on the seat’s edge, you tried your best to keep yourself aware of your surroundings. If you gave into temptation, you just knew you wouldn’t want to be taken out of the headspace Chris would pull you into.

This was going to be a long, long ride home…

Walking into your building, hand in hand with Chris, with a human-looking Chris, was certainly not something you could say you did every day. 

What was even more unusual, was being inside the dingy, crammed lift of your way-too-old building, grabbing a fistfull of Chris’ dark hair as his lips and his tongue danced slowly against yours.

It was all so, so weird… not only the feeling of a totally normal tongue that you weren’t used to. It didn’t feel bad or wrong in any way, but it almost felt like… like you were coming home with someone after a date.

Whatever it was that happened tonight, certainly wasn’t a date. It was nowhere near close to being a date… You needed to remind yourself that Chris was not someone you’d gone on a date with. But, honestly, it was a bit hard to convince your brain of that when he held you so close by the waist, when his lips moulded so perfectly against yours that you barely heard the lift reach your floor.

Before you knew it, Chris had scooped you in his arms. You couldn’t help but yelp in surprise as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. “What’s this for?”

Chris shrugged, stepping out of the lift and walking down the corridor towards your door. “You said your feet hurt”.

You didn’t say anything, just stared at his side profile until he finally reached the door to your home. Only then did he turn to look at you, almost blinding you with the smile on his lips.

Chris… he was just way too handsome, something as simple as a smile, regardless of how he looked, was enough to have your cheeks heating up.

How silly of you…

But even more silly, was how you leaned in to press a soft kiss on his cheek, mumbling a quiet ‘Thank you’ before he finally placed you on your feet so you could open the door.

The moment your feet touched the ground you were reminded of just how much they hurt. Curse this pretty, but uncomfortable footwear…

Regardless, once you’d wiped your heels on your doormat enough times to not feel guilty about stepping into your home with shoes on–because there was just no way you could undo all these straps standing right outside your door–you simply got your keys, unlocked the front door and walked into your flat, with Chris following soon after.

When he stepped out of his shoes, they just dissolved into a dark mist, and as he took his suit jacket off, this one did, too. The motion left him shirtless, because why would he wear a shirt under his suit, when he could spend the entire night with a good chunk of his chest exposed, right?

“I’m gonna just… take my make-up off and have a quick shower”, you turned away from him and started making your way to the bathroom.

“Oh, let me help you”.

You looked back at him again, with one of your eyebrows arched on your face, questioningly. Chris just brought his hands up, giving you one of his signature wolfish grins that made your heart flutter a bit in your chest.

“Got no ulterior motives. Promise”.

He sounded genuine, like he honestly wasn’t trying to just get into your knickers. So, after a moment of consideration, you hummed in agreement, resuming your walk.

“Did you get what I suggested last time?” He asked once you were both within the echoey walls of your bathroom.

“I did. It’s already inside the shower”.

After your last… encounter, Chris had insisted you got a shower stool. ‘I can’t keep cleaning you up on the toilet like a savage! Get one of those shower stools, it’ll be easier for both of us…’ so you did. You’d admit you’d already used it, people truly disregarded how much easier it was to take a shower after a long day when you could just sit down to do it. 

Chris’ hands found your hips, and he gently caressed the swell of them as you stood in front of him. “Good. Turn around”.

You did as asked, and, slowly, he started to unzip your dress. As he did, he walked further into your personal space, not fully pressing his body to yours, but enough that his body heat enveloped you.

You could feel his lips ghost the skin of the nape of your neck before he placed a lingering kiss on it. The gesture made you swallow, it made you feel tingly all over, enough that you kind of wanted to ignore how sore you already were from the long night. You could surely survive a round…

“I’m… I’m gonna remove the glamour”, Chris mumbled against your skin, just as he finished unzipping your dress, and brought his hands to your shoulders, sliding them right under the straps. “Just giving you a heads-up”.

“Why? You think I’ll get scared?” you chuckled, just as your dress fell to the floor, leaving you in just your heels and your underwear. You carefully stepped out of it, and kicked it somewhere far from the shower’s entrance.

“Dunno… You’d been seeing me as just a regular guy for a couple of hours”, Chris expertly undid the clasps of your bra. He removed it carefully before you heard the unmistakable thud of it landing on top of fabric–on top of your dress, you presumed. “It could be kinda jarring to suddenly see me with… well, my add-ons”.

You chuckled again, bringing your hands to your breasts to gently fondle them, trying to ease some of that uncomfortable feeling that lingered after having worn a bra for too many hours.

As if his demon form could do anything other than arouse you at this point… These days, just the sight of him made you salivate like a dog; it was practically a pavlovian response at this point. 

You remained facing away from him as he slid your panties down your legs. He, obviously, didn’t waste the opportunity to place some kisses on your buttocks on his way down, a motion that was steadily turning your brain into putty.

However, he truly didn’t seem to have any… sinful intentions. Chris just asked you to lift your feet so he could take your underwear and throw it on the pile of clothes that had gathered by the entrance of the room. 

When his hands were on your waist, you finally turned to face him. 

There they were again… those eyes of his that were seemingly endless, dark and void like the night’s sky. His tail calmly swayed behind him, mindlessly dragging on the tiled floor, and his horns… You honestly felt like they just complemented his features so well.

Maybe you were just a sinful little human like he always told you…

Chris stood there, just looking at you, holding your waist while you took him in. The suit trousers were gone, he was dressed only in the silky slacks he usually wore, with his chest still on full display for your ogling eyes.

You brought your hands to his arms, feeling his skin under your fingertips as you dragged them all the way to his shoulders, where they stopped briefly before you brought them to his chest.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn his skin was getting redder wherever you touched him, but you figured it might’ve been the lighting in your bathroom.

You removed your hands from his chest only to cup his cheeks. You used them to move his head all sorts of ways. Left, right, up, down… admiring every single one of his features from every angle you could think of. He let you, of course. He always did. Chris often let you play around with his body however you wanted, and if you ever did something he didn’t like, he’d just stop you and tell you. That was part of your agreement, after all…

When you finally straightened his head so you could look directly into his eyes, you started stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “See? Not scared”.

Chris grinned at you. He bent his knees and interlocked his arms under your backside to lift you off the ground before he started walking. “Not very smart of you, is it?”

The shower door opened on its own, and Chris stepped inside with you in his arms, just so he could place you on the shower stool you’d gotten upon his request.

“You wouldn’t hurt me”, you said matter-of-factly, and, as the words left your mouth, you realised you genuinely believed them.

Chris laughed at that, reaching for the showerhead to get it off of its holder before he knelt in front of you. “Are you sure about that, pet?”

He placed the showerhead on the floor, then started undoing the straps of your heels, very, very slowly…

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done so when I let you shove your monstrous cock up my ass”, you watched as he finally removed one of your heels, and dropped it in the air for it to float out of the shower before he started undoing the other one.

“Just like I told you earlier, don’t make me think about my cock up your ass, pretty human. Not unless you want me to do it right here, right now”, he replied simply before he instructed you to take off all your jewellery while he worked your remaining heel off of you. 

You took everything off as requested. As soon as you were finished, Chris had already taken your heel and your toe ring off. He opened his palm for you to place all your accessories in, and, once you did, he just dropped them in the air for them to float out of the shower as well. 

Once he’d taken the showerhead in his hand, the tap opened on its own, it seemed to be moving behind you to adjust the temperature, while Chris let the water run over his free hand. When he’d clearly deemed it to be the right temperature, he took a hold of one of your heels and started wetting your feet. 

You couldn’t help but close your eyes and hum as soon as the water touched your skin. The warm temperature was highly appreciated, it was certainly helping ease the dull ache that you’d been feeling after standing in those stupid heels for so many hours.

Chris repeated the motions with your other foot, until your skin was wet enough to his standards, you supposed. The water flow stopped when the tap closed behind you. Your shower-gel floated from the shower caddy to his hand, so he simply uncapped it and squeezed some of the contents in his palms.

He lathered the gel between his hands a bit before he brought them to one of your feet. With gentle motions, Chris massaged your foot, working the suds on your skin.

You really, really appreciated it. It seemed to be further easing the pain, but, as you looked at him, you just couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Have you got a thing for feet?”

Chris bursted out laughing as soon as the words left your mouth, and he looked up at your face without stopping the motions of his hands. “Not particularly. You don’t think I would’ve done something about that already if I did, darling?”

You smiled at him, shrugging. “Dunno. You seem to be pretty focused on them tonight”.

Chris shook his head a bit before he returned his attention to your feet, gently placing the one in his hands on the floor before he took the other to repeat the motions. “You’ve been wearing open shoes all night, sweetheart. I’m just making sure you’re cleaned up thoroughly”.

You supposed you couldn’t argue with that. After all, you had stepped in quite the number of sticky puddles at the event, so this was probably a good idea.

As he finished up lathering your feet, and even a bit further up your legs, you were suddenly curious about something, so you asked, “Do you do this to the other people that are summoning you?”

You’d never really asked Chris about this… You’d think about it sometimes, though. How many people might be just… enjoying his company. You tried to always push the question to the deepest recesses of your mind, since it always made an uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of your stomach. 

Which was a bit dumb on your part.

Chris wasn’t yours, that much you knew. You didn’t think he could even be yours in the first place. He was, after all, a demon.

Would you even want that? What would you even do with a demon? Other than fucking, that was.

It was a thought you honestly didn’t want to entertain. You didn’t think you had the right mind to even think about that possibility right now.

He was quiet for a moment, mindlessly massaging your calves. With a deep breath, Chris shrugged, right before he reached for the showerhead. “I only let myself be summoned by one person at a time. Last time I was summoned, I might have. But there weren’t showerheads like these back then, so it wasn’t this easy”.

Your jaw went slack. Back then, he said? Back then?!

“When was the last time someone summoned you before I did?” You just couldn’t keep the surprise from your voice, it was noticeable enough that it made Chris look up at you, while he blindly rinsed your lower legs.

“Dunno, maybe a handful of centuries ago?” He replied simply, like it was nothing.

“Centuries?!”

“That’s what I said, darling. Yes”, he chuckled, just as he stood up. “I’m gonna get you all wet alright?”

He was clearly amused by what he said, like a young boy would be after telling a dirty joke. You barely had any time to react before he was pointing the showerhead at your face, making you squeal in surprise and snapping you out of your stupor.

“Chris!�� You tried to cover your face with one hand while blindly reaching for his hand.

“What?” He was… he was giggling. It wasn’t the first time you heard him giggle, but he didn’t do it as often, and, being honest, it was contagious.

“Oh, stop it! Gimme–gimme the showerhead!” You were now giggling yourself. Had it been anyone else, you might’ve been annoyed, but with Chris, you were just… amused.

Maybe you were more tired than you thought.

“Nuh-uh!”

There was a bit of back and forth, until you abruptly stood up from the stool and managed to get the showerhead from his hand. You turned it against him, making him gasp as he got drenched.

“My slacks!”

“Now you care about your slacks? They were already wet when you were touching my feet like a weirdo”, you were just teasing him, of course. You were sure the smirk on your face was enough for him to know.

For a brief moment, you saw his slacks evaporate into dark mist like the rest of his clothes had done earlier. Just for a brief moment, because almost immediately after, the showerhead disappeared from your hand and your chest was pressed to the cold tiles of your shower’s walls, so suddenly it made you gasp. 

You felt the loud smack on your buttock before you heard it. The sound bounced off of the walls, joining the unexpected moan that came out of your mouth. 

“Behave, gorgeous. Hm?” Chris was still chuckling, holding your buttock tightly in one hand, while he held the showerhead in the other, pointing the water flow at your lower back.

You turned your head to look at him, as much as you could without fully turning your body. “You started it”.

“Mm… Fair enough”, Chris pressed a brief kiss on your shoulder, before he pulled himself away from your space–as much as he could within the space of your shower. “Sit back down. We’re not finished”.

You turned around and offered him a smile before you leaned in. After pressing a quick kiss on his cheek, you brought your lips close to his ear. “Yes, sir”.

Before he could retaliate, you simply did as asked, and sat down on your stool, batting your lashes at him in feigned innocence. Chris just scoffed, and knelt in front of you once again. Right then, your make-up remover balm and gel floated inside the shower, and right into your lap. 

“Do your pretty face, I’ll take care of the rest, yeah?”

You hummed, opening the balm’s container and gathering the needed amount so you could start your skin care routine. It was kind of amusing to see him right now. Still kneeling, sometimes going into a crouch, fully naked, half-hard as he diligently lathered you up, but not really making any advances.

You weren’t really surprised, honestly. You’d already told him earlier in the evening that you probably wouldn’t be up for it, so unless you explicitly told him, you knew he wouldn’t make a real move

Even after the playful encounter, though, and as you kept cleansing your face, Chris’ words still lingered in your mind. A handful of centuries ago, he’d said… 

Demons didn’t mix with other demons, not sexually, at least. That was something Chris told you once in passing. If that was true, and he hadn’t been summoned by a human in centuries, Would that mean you were the first person he’d laid with in centuries?

That was, if he hadn’t found himself entangled with a different being altogether… There was a small part of you that doubted that was the case, though. Or, more accurately, that wished that was the case.

But why? Why would that small part of you wish for that? It was foolish on your part, for sure…

Chris wasn’t yours. You had to constantly remind yourself of that fact. He couldn’t be. You couldn’t mix… like that.

When you were finally fully cleaned up and refreshed, Chris helped you towel dry your hair and the rest of your body. It was way past midnight, and the long evening was certainly catching up to you.

After he brushed your hair and you got into your fluffiest pyjamas, you were finally tucked into bed. Chris simply laid down next to you on top of the covers, propping his head on his hand as he looked at you.

His hair was slightly damp still, but steadily drying in a messy pattern of curls that seemed to be further swallowing the base of his horns.

“You look better with curly hair”, you mindlessly mumbled, with your eyes barely open.

Chris smiled at you. “You didn’t like my straightened hair earlier? I thought it’d be a nice change”. 

You hummed, shaking your head slightly from side to side. “T’was fine. I just like your curly hair so much more”.

“I’ll keep it in mind”, scooting closer to you, he draped an arm over your waist to pull you to him.

“You do as you prefer, though”.

“I don’t have a preference”, Chris mumbled, just before he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

The lamp on your bedside table switched off, and your eyes finally closed fully. Chris seemed to snuggle even closer, lifting your head a bit so he could bring an arm under your head to curl it around your shoulders.

“Thank you for your company tonight”, you whispered the words against the skin of his neck, where you had buried your face as soon as he’d pulled you close.

“It was my pleasure, pretty thing”, Chris’ other hand slowly caressed your back, further relaxing every muscle of your body. “Thank you for letting me keep you company”.

You hummed, pressing a brief kiss on his neck. “M’sorry if we didn’t… Y’know…”

Chris chuckled softly at that, and if you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought he sounded incredulous. “That’s nothing to be sorry for”.

Silence stretched for a few moments, all you could hear was his steady breathing, faint voices from the party happening in the house in front of your building, and the odd car passing. You could practically feel your body fully relax, being lulled to sleep by Chris’ warmth.

Just before you fell asleep, you vaguely heard Chris mumble against your hair.

“With a bit of luck, I’ll be back in a couple of nights…”

Attending that company event all those weeks ago certainly worked in your favour. You’d had an interview a couple of days ago, and the odds were certainly promising. Nothing was certain yet, though. You never believed anything told to you at work unless it was written down on an email, but you held some hope.

Unfortunately, you’d also had a nasty encounter with the debt collectors… You’d managed to pay them part of the money your mother had owed them, but they were trying to increase interests. You still weren’t sure how you managed to leave that place without being shot, considering the nasty words you spat at them.

They did increase the interest, but to a much lower percentage than the one originally proposed, which you supposed was… not good, but also not bad.

The events of the week had caught up to you, which was why you were grateful that it was Friday night, that you were lying comfortably on your bed, and that you had your favourite demon’s head between your legs.

Chris always provided much needed relief. You didn’t want to think about the corporate world or what your mother had done to get you so deep in this mess… Sometimes, it was almost like he knew you’d been needing exactly this, to be so lost in your pleasure that you were numb, that you couldn’t even remember what had you so wound up in the first place.

It kind of made sense, since that had been your original arrangement… It was exactly the reason why you’d sought him out in the first place, or part of it, at least.

Something seemed different lately, though. 

The other night, after the company event, it’d been the first time Chris had just… stayed with you without engaging in any sexual activity, which puzzled you. Not only that, but, after that night, that started happening more frequently.

It wasn’t like you were mad about it. You realised you didn’t need to have sex with him to get that feeling of relief after meeting with him, which was fine. Maybe more than fine. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t make a move sometimes.

You’d been meaning to ask him about it, but you hadn’t really built the courage to do it. You weren’t even sure why you needed to hype yourself up to do it in the first place.

Tonight, though, you didn’t want to think about that.

You doubted you could even think about anything at all when Chris had you just… like this.

His tongue diligently worked you up, the two halves of the appendage danced around your clit so deliciously you could barely keep your eyes open, and the texture of it further enhanced those jolts of pleasure running up and down your spine. Chris’ name would occasionally escape from between your lips as a breathless whisper, and you could practically see him rut into the bed as it did.

Bringing both of your hands to his head, you took a hold of each horn with a firm grip. Chris’ eyebrows furrowed, he moaned, positively heating you up further. You saw his eyes close when you started to gently stroke the base of his horns, softly dragging your fingertips from where they started protruding from his head, before your attention shifted and you caught a couple of his dark strands between your fingers.

His tail thrashed, swishing from side to side before it shot to your ankle. It wrapped around your limb, slowly climbing up a bit before it tightened its hold, and he used it to move your leg further towards your chest. You weren’t really sure who was being louder right now, his grunts and moans sent vibrations through you, his quickening tongue had you trembling with need, and you were so, so ready to finally get your relief…

Chris’ tongue moved further down, licking at your entrance briefly before it found its way to your ass. You couldn’t help but mewl under his motions, fully aroused by the feel of that wet muscle on your sensitive skin, of his nose catching at your entrance. His own noises of pleasure fueled you, it made you believe that Chris enjoyed being right here as much as you did. 

“Chris… I’m… I’m so close–” Your sentence cut short when he returned his tongue to your cunt, when he pushed his forked tongue within your walls and his nose started to nudge your sensitive nub. 

With his arms under your thighs, his hands on your hips, gripping you tightly, Chris kept you pressed to the bed, preventing you from pulling away from him. The grip of his tail on your lower leg tightened, your grip on his horns tightened as well. He was fully submerged in you and that heaven between your legs, and, before you could even let him know, you were trembling with the strength of your release.

It didn’t matter how much you writhed and whined, he just interlocked his fingers over your tummy and kept you right where he wanted, making your mind go numb under the motions of his lips and his forked tongue.

Stars…

All you could see were stars.

Stars and feathers and soft gentle light…

As you came down from your high, Chris finally relented a bit. He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, giving you slow, gentle licks that helped prolong your pleasure. He was so good to you, better than you could’ve ever expected. He always knew what to do, how to make you feel good, and every time you laid on your bed with him like this, you were reminded of that fact.

You finally let go of his horns, and started tracing the elegant curve of one of them with your fingertips. Your other hand remained mindlessly playing with his curls, almost tenderly, and Chris just hummed, sounding just immensely satisfied.

He finally removed himself from your centre, but he stayed right there, with his hands still holding you down as he left kisses on your inner thighs. As he did, you couldn’t help but stare at his back from where you were still somewhat propped on your pillows.

You were barely capable of focusing your tired eyes on it, but you honestly couldn’t help but feel curious again. You always did whenever you looked at him, whenever you saw the scarred tissue running parallel to his spine. ‘It happened a few millennia ago. They were left behind after my wings were ripped off of my body’, he’d told you once, but he didn’t elaborate further. If anything, he’d avoided the topic altogether after that.

He had finally stopped licking at your core, which you appreciated. Right now wasn’t a moment for overstimulation, and he seemed to have caught up on that very quickly. As he pressed kisses on your inner thighs, you couldn’t help but bring your foot to his back, barely applying pressure with the ball of it on one of his scars.

Chris’ whole body jolted, his lips immediately detached from your skin with a gasp, and, in the blink of an eye, he was on top of you. With both hands pressed to the mattress at either side of your head, he looked down at you.

You swallowed, suddenly transfixed by the darkness in his eyes. 

“Does it… Does it hurt?” Your voice was barely a whisper, gentle, and, even to your ears, it sounded like you cared. You supposed you did. It was hard not to care when your protective walls were down, when you’d bared yourself to this demon above you so many times, in more ways than one.

Chris shook his head, licking his lips. “Doesn’t really hurt anymore. It’s just… this tingly feeling…”

He readjusted his position, so he could properly kneel between your legs. His tail had loosened its grip, it ran gently up and down your calf in tandem with the tip of his cock on your folds. You held your breath in anticipation, bringing one of your hands to hold one of his wrists, and the other to cup his cheek.

Taking a deep breath, Chris closed his eyes, keeping the slow, teasing motions of his length between your legs. He turned his head the tiniest bit, and placed small pecks of his lips on the palm of your hand.

He was, truly, the oddest demon you’d ever met.

Not like you’d met any demon other than Chris, but he just didn’t fit the idea you had of someone like him.

With his lips still pressed to your palm, with his eyes still closed, he finally plunged himself right into you. You couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. Even if it wasn’t the first time he’d been inside you tonight, the suddenness of it all caught you off guard.

Only when he was fully sheathed within your warmth did he open his eyes. They were dark, endless pools of black like they’d always been, lustful, sinful, but… there was something else there. Something that made you shiver under his heavy gaze.

“F–Fuck…” You swore under your breath, dizzy with the feel of the ridges and bumps of his monstrous cock stimulating your walls. “So big…”

Chris chuckled, lowering himself to his elbows so he could briefly claim your mouth in a sensual kiss. 

“That’s what you’d asked for, no? A big monster cock to fuck you stupid”, he mumbled the words against your lips, just as he started to move, slowly, almost teasingly rocking his hips. In and out, in and out… “That’s why I’m here. Isn’t it, pet?”

You whined, closing your eyes and further pushing your head against the pillow. You could feel your mind turning hazy once again, lost in the feel of Chris in you, on you, all over you…

“Isn’t it?” Chris repeated his question, a bit lower this time, barely even audible over the squelching sounds that started to resonate in your room.

Was that the only reason? A big monster cock?

You’d convinced yourself that had been exactly it, but now, you weren’t so sure.

Your body had a tendency to act on its own around Chris, to do things without receiving the proper, logical signal from your brain, which was probably why you found yourself shaking your head before you could stop it. He didn’t say anything about it, though. He just kissed you. Kissed you like he needed you to keep breathing.

His hips sped up, his weight fell further on you, his firm chest rubbed against yours with how close you were. You wrapped your limbs around him, heels interlocked around his torso and your hands palm flat on his back to keep him in place. You needed him closer, as close as he could be. You wanted him to crawl inside your skin, to become one single soul. 

Although, you supposed his lack of one made it a bit difficult.

That was alright…

Yours could be plenty for both.

You could feel the tip of his tail dragging up and down the back of your thigh, enticing you, provoking you. Chris was grunting in your kiss, pushing his tongue against yours, tugging your lips with his teeth, and you figured this was as close as you could be.

That was fine.

At least, for now.

Your hands found the scarred skin of his back, and you gently traced the outline of it with your fingertips. Chris seemed to have started trembling under your tender motions, his lips disconnected from yours, and his heavy breaths filled your senses when he rested his forehead on yours.

“Do you… Do you regret it?” You asked between broken moans, tightening your legs further around him.

Chris shook his head, and he started to thrust harder into you, further pulling desperate sounds out of your mouth. “Would do it all over again…”

You shivered as soon as the words left his mouth, your walls clenched hard around his length, and Chris swore under his breath. 

Dragging your hands down his back, they found the base of his tail, and it stiffened up into the air as soon as you touched it. Chris whined, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, being mindful to keep his horns out of the way.

You were barely coherent under his quickening motions, unable to produce any sound that wasn’t his name or those that manifested your pleasure. Leaving one hand at the thick base of his tail, stroking the area, you brought your other hand to one of his horns, gently caressing the keratin. Chris’ hips stuttered, his previously controlled thrusts turned into an uncoordinated tempo, and his desperate moans and pleas of your name became more frequent. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, if you–if you keep doing that, I’m gonna–gonna come…” Chris mumbled, but despite his words, his hips didn’t stop. 

With your mouth next to his ear, making sure he could hear every single moan, every single sigh coming out of your mouth, you whispered. “…Good”.

His pace was brutal, erratic, his cock brushed all those incredibly sensitive areas within you, just like you needed it to, and when his tail found its way between your bodies for the tapered tip to stimulate your clit, your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head.

For you, my love… I’d do it all over again…

Chris’ thoughts slipped into yours, just as a broken whimper escaped his throat and he finally let himself go within your walls.

You weren’t sure if it’d been the motions of his tail, or the feeling of his cock repeatedly splitting you open, or the words he’d poured into your mind, but before you knew it, blinding hot pleasure overtook every single one of your senses. Was there anything else in this world that wasn’t Chris and his tail and his horns and his cum inside you?

At this very moment, you really couldn’t come up with anything off the top of your head, you could barely form a single coherent thought.

A few breaths passed, just before Chris’ lips found yours. He pressed pecks on your lips, and your hands simply buried in his hair to keep him close as you left kisses of your own on his lips. Tired kisses, yes. But kisses nonetheless.

Kisses that just seemed to perfectly finish your seemingly never-ending night of nothing but warmth and intimacy.

When he pulled away, he started pressing slow pecks on your cheeks, finishing off with a final, lingering one on your forehead before he finally pulled out and rolled off of you.

There was a moment where all that could be heard were heavy breaths, and the swish of Chris’ tail on your bed sheets. You were basking in that post-orgasmic bliss, enjoying the satisfying aches of your body.

You felt light, but full. 

Full of Chris.

Both physically and spiritually.

There was a small smile on your lips as you enjoyed those last blissful moments…

But then your eyebrows furrowed.

Opening your eyes, you stared at the ceiling for a moment. Something was weighing heavy in your mind, like your brain was trying to tell you something that you couldn’t quite hear, or that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

Propping yourself on your elbow, you looked at Chris. His eyes were almost closed, he even looked relaxed, but as he took in the look on your face, his entire expression shifted.

He looked worried, concerned…

“What’s wrong, pet?” He propped himself on his elbow as well to get to your level, and you immediately sat down fully, ignoring the feeling of foreign fluids coming out of your body.

“What was that about… about you doing it all over again for me?”

Chris’ eyes widened. He remained silent for a few moments, but then you saw his Adam’s apple bob, and his eyes started jumping all over your face for a while. For a long, quiet while.

He wouldn’t say anything, you didn’t think you’d ever seen him this paralysed before. Chris wasn’t someone that just got paralysed. He was a demon, for crying out loud…

“Chris?”

His expression shifted once again, to one of complete neutrality. Like he’d never even shown emotion in the first place.

“It was just… Y’know, a heat of the moment thing”, he stood up from the bed, abruptly, breaking eye-contact for a moment before he tried to pull you into his arms. “Don’t look too deeply into it. C’mon, let’s go to the shower”.

You moved away from his reach a bit, which made him frown.

You didn’t buy it.

For some reason, you just didn’t buy it. Chris was an honest being, he’d always been. Sometimes you’d wondered if he’d been deceiving you for real like all those priests your mother followed would say, but you never truly felt like he was lying. And as you heard him speak just now, you realised that you’d been correct.

Because, right now, he was lying. You could just tell he was, he sounded so insincere, like not even he could believe what he was saying.

You arched an eyebrow, just looking at him, not saying anything, not moving from where you were sitting on the bed. Chris’ eyes fixed on your hand, and only then did you realise you’d been gripping the bed sheets in a tight fist.

“It’s nothing. You know I ramble a lot, it was just one of those things I say sometimes. C’mon…”

Chris did ramble a lot, and he did say a lot of things in general when you were having sex, but they were always things that made sense within the context, things he thought, things that always felt like he meant them. That, coupled with the fact that he just wouldn’t look at your face, was enough to further trigger the alarms in your brain.

“You didn’t just say it. You thought it”, you saw him swallow again, you could see and hear his tail relentlessly moving behind him, hitting the floor, your bedside table, a chair… “Chris, look me in the eyes and tell me again it was just a heat of the moment thing”.

He remained quiet, unmoving, completely frozen on the spot. There were not only alarms in your brain now, but anxiety was also quickly building within you, although you didn’t quite understand why.

“What do I have to do with the fact that someone ripped off your wings?” 

Chris finally reacted. He brought a hand to his hair, ruffled it as a tired sigh fell from his lips. “This is… It’s not… I mean, it just slipped out of my head, but it’s not like, you know…”

Now he was truly rambling, and it just irked you. “No. No, I don’t know”.

“Let me just… I need to clean you up, okay? You need to drink something, we can talk about this later–”

“No”, you said firmly, tightening your grip on the bed sheets under you. “You’re hiding something from me. You’re lying to me. You’ve never lied to me. Why? Why are you lying?”

Chris sighed, turning his back to you and walking towards your open window. He held onto the frame, but he didn’t move further.

You stared at the scars on his back. The original wound must’ve been deep, traumatic to the skin, leaving keloids behind upon healing. He had other scars, too, but none stood out quite like those two did.

You stood up from the bed on unsteady legs, and made your way to the window. The aches in your body you usually enjoyed so much were just inconvenient like this, which reminded you why Chris was the one to take you in his arms everywhere after hours of nothing but sex.

Chris let go of the window’s frame, and instead brought both hands to his head, where he gripped his hair and the base of his horns as he mumbled to himself. “Shit… I should’ve been more careful… This wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“What wasn’t supposed to be?” You reached for his back. The moment your fingertips touched his scars he immediately whipped around to face you, looking at you with a deep frown on his face. “God, would you just say something?”

“Don’t!” Closing his eyes tightly, Chris held his head in his hands, shaking it from side to side. You took a step back at the tone of his voice. He’d been loud, louder than he’d ever spoken to you. “Don’t say Her name. This is all Her fucking fault. If She had just let me do what I wanted, we wouldn’t be like this”.

“Who’s she?” You were beyond confused, raising the tone of your voice in response to his own increase in volume.

“God!” Chris said it like it was a name. Not an expression of frustration, or confusion. It was a name. He was talking about God as if they were someone, as if she was someone. “You wanna know why I was thinking what I was thinking?! Because She took you away from me! And when I tried to get you back, She turned me into this!” He gestured to his eyes with two of his fingers, as if that made this make sense at all.

Chris didn’t seem like he was thinking, he was just talking, rambling, venting, rendering you speechless in the process.

“If She had let me just get you back we wouldn’t have to be in this endless, agonising cycle. She always let’s you fucking die, and I always have to watch! I’ve seen you die more times than I have fingers on my hands. I’ve had to wait centuries for you. Sometimes even millenniums! All on my own, because She just loves to play with us like we’re her little figurines. She just loves to see me suffer, to make you suffer, just because I wouldn’t do exactly what She wanted me to do! Do I wish She wouldn’t have taken my wings? Yes. Yes, I do! But even then, I’d do what I did again! And again, and again, and again! I couldn’t just do nothing”.

You stood there, speechless, trembling, confused out of your mind. Before you could open your mouth Chris swore, a loud, aggressive, ‘Fuck!’ that had all items on your vanity flying onto the floor. Once again, he brought his hands to his head, resting his palms on his forehead as he fell to the floor, curling in on himself as he crouched.

There was silence for a while. It was deafening, suffocating, you felt like your legs, too, were about to give out, and you barely even registered your own voice coming out of your mouth.

“What… What are you saying?”

It was barely above a whisper, but Chris looked up at you anyway. His eyes were nothing but a black void, and yet, you could see his feelings painted all over his face… Pain, despair…

When he stood up from the floor, his hands were immediately on your cheeks, so fast you barely had time to react. “You were meant to be with me forever. I promised you a forever… But not like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this”.

With trembling hands, you reached for his own that cupped your face, and pulled them off of you before you started walking backwards.

“You’re not making any sense. What the hell are you talking about…?” Your ears started to ring, your head started to hurt, and your vision spun.

“I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have let it slip like it was nothing, I know I should’ve told you, but I’m a fucking coward and can never bring myself to”, Chris tried to walk closer to you, but you immediately walked away.

The back of your knees hit your mattress, and you immediately stumbled and fell ass-first on it. Your hands were shaking, the ringing in your ears seemed to intensify, and your chest started to feel heavy. “You… You should’ve told me what? I don’t understand a single thing, Chris. What the fuck are you talking about?”

Chris remained rooted on the spot, looking at you like standing right there was hurting him. “I’m not just a demon. I wasn’t even always a demon… My wings, my soul… God took them away from me because I tried to get you back from the underworld many, many years ago”.

Your lower lip started to wobble, your chest felt tight. Was he saying that… he lost his wings because of you? But that didn’t make any sense whatsoever to you. Chris just kept talking, rambling like he often did.

“Why do you think you’ve always been fascinated by the occult? It doesn’t make sense considering your background, does it? But you are. You always sought out that which was beyond, you’ve always been looking for me”, Chris walked closer to the bed, and your eyes remained fixed on his eyes, lost in the darkness. In the darkness that apparently had been your fault…

“I was one of God’s angels, you know? An obedient little servant… Always ready to do whatever She asked of me. That changed when I met you. Not this you, but the you in your first life. Since then, I am bound to you, I promised you I would be, and we are. But God just can’t let me have what I want… Because of what I did, because She banished me to the underworld, I can only leave it whenever you are looking for me”.

Chris laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh, more one caused by absurdity, one that left a bitter taste on your tongue. “If your bond is so strong, then I’m sure you’d have no problem waiting for the call… That’s what She told me then. And… I suppose She was right. It doesn’t matter if it takes you centuries to be reborn. You always look for me. Whenever you reincarnate into a human, you always look for me”.

“N–No. I wasn’t– I didn’t…” This wasn’t what you’d been trying to do when you had decided to summon a demon… How could you be looking for Chris, when you didn’t even know him? You were calling to any demon… weren’t you? You were sure you’d been doing just that, which was why it was so hard for your brain to fully understand what he was telling you. “How could I? I didn’t know you before that”.

“You did!” Chris’ voice boomed in your room, the loudest, most aggressive you’d ever heard it. It made you jump on the spot, the way the darkness in his eyes started shifting, swirling into erratic patterns, the way his tail thrashed behind him, all of it combined made you feel uneasy. Especially when he was walking, getting closer to your bed. “You do! Listen to me–!”

“Stop it!” You raised one of your hands, with your palm facing him. Chris froze on the spot, just before he could climb into your bed. “Just… just stop shouting!”

Slowly, Chris’ expression changed. From that angry, frowning demon, to a look of shock, then concern. “I didn’t–I didn’t mean to–”

“Stop talking for a second, would you?!” You brought your hands to your face, and applied pressure on your eye sockets with your fingertips.

Your head was throbbing, overworked from trying to fully understand what Chris was telling you. Suddenly, you felt like crying. The tight feeling in your chest was suffocating you, his presence was suffocating you, and, before you knew it, you were sobbing, having a full on meltdown right then and there.

“Love, listen–”

“No! What do I have to listen to?! Huh?!” You could barely see him through your blurry vision, only able to barely make out the shape of his body and his tail anxiously moving behind him. “That it’s my fault that you’re like this right now?! That I’m somehow trapped in a cycle with you?! What the fuck is this about?! That just doesn’t make sense, Chris! You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying! I can give you all the details you want, but not… not like this, not right now. You need to calm down and–”

“I need to calm down?! Me?!” You scoffed, followed by quite possibly the most pathetic sob you’d ever heard. You were sure your head was about to explode, the ringing in your ears got even louder, and you just needed to breathe. “This isn’t what I wanted… It’s not what I was looking for… Please just… just leave”.

“What?! No. No, no, I can’t–!” Chris was scrambling, once again trying to get on your bed, trying to get close to you.

“I said leave, Christopher!” You couldn’t recognise your own voice coming out of your mouth, you could barely understand where you were, where was up, where was down… The world was spinning, your whole body started to hurt, and all you wanted to do was lay down and cry. Alone, in silence.

“No, no, no, please! Don’t use my name for this, it’s not fair! I can’t just leave you like this!” The air around you started to shift, like there was a strong current coming from the window, it had goosebumps rising on your flesh, it almost made you tremble.

“Please leave me alone, Christopher. I just… Whatever this is, I just… I just can’t–”

Chris fell to his knees, clutching his chest. His body was taut, like he was fighting that strong blow raking your bedroom, like it was taking every single bit of power he had to remain right there.

Between gasps, Chris crawled to the side of your bed. He tried to reach out to you, but you just couldn’t let him get any closer, you couldn’t, so you shuffled backwards, sobbing as you watched his hand fall on the edge of your mattress and gripping it tightly.

You could barely make out the features of his face, but you could tell he was looking right at you. 

“I know… I know it’s hard, but, please…” He looked like he was in excruciating pain, like he was about to rip your mattress with how tightly he was holding onto it. “Please, call for me. Whenever you’re ready, just call for me. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait–”

Chris’ form quickly evaporated into dark mist. The air in your room went back to normal, rather abruptly. The sudden shift had you collapsing on your bed and gasping for air.

It was all so much.

Whatever just happened, was just too much for you. 

The pain in your head intensified, you felt like the weight of the world had been placed on your chest, but, worst of all, you felt just so incredibly cold. So, so cold. Unbearably cold. So you reached for your bed sheets and threw them on your body to try and warm yourself up.

You spent a long time curled up under the bed sheets, with your face buried in one of your pillows while you just cried your heart out. You were hurting all over somehow. Emotionally, physically, spiritually… 

It wasn’t until your body had exhausted all remaining energy fuel within yourself that you eventually stopped crying. And as you laid there, dealing with all the different aches and pains of your body, just as you were about to pass out for the night, you finally understood why Chris had always been so insistent on aftercare.

It was, in fact, a very integral part of the act of sex. If you’d let him do it before this whole thing exploded, maybe you wouldn’t be feeling like a beaten up, empty tin can.

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Author’s notex2: i am so sorry. the third and final part is currently being planned.

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General Masterlist

[thebearchives]

slow days in monaco | PG10

PAIRING: pierre gasly x single mom!reader

REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SYNOPSIS: a slow day in monaco is like a bad omen, or so you were told. what happens when formula 1 drivers pierre gasly and charles leclerc enter the café you work at and spark up a conversation with your son?

WARNINGS: fluff, son has a name (thomas), reader can speak both french and english (translations are included), probably more interactions between pierre and the kid (sorry, not sorry. I'm a sucker for guys interacting with kids)

A/N: hello, hello!! first post alert!!! i hope you guys enjoy what i came up with during my dad!pierre brainrot. please don’t be a ghost reader! i love getting feedback, even if it’s just a small comment :)

( originally, this was supposed to be a series, and i’m more than willing to write more parts to this, but i’m not entirely sure if that’s what people want. that being said, send me a message if you'd like another part and I'll see what i can do! )

although there never truly was such thing as a slow and quiet day in a coffee shop in monte carlo, the mornings were just a little bit more mellow after the start of the formula 1 summer break. or at least they were to you.

this was your first year working at le pain d'amour, a bakery and coffee shop popular with tourists and natives alike, so you didn’t have much to go off of. you had started working there a couple of months prior to the monaco grand prix, and even three months later, you were still recovering from the weeklong madness. 

long gone were the mornings where you made coffee for f1 enthusiasts and team members alike. now, your mornings were spent serving tourists looking for a good instagram-worthy latte, and suit-clad men complaining about their early mornings and lack of vacation days.

unlike other days, today felt like your longest morning shift yet; halfway into your five-hour shift, with only about five customers sitting inside the cafe. ‘a slow day in monaco is like a bad omen,’ your coworker had said. to you, it just felt like torture.

another hour passed, the five customers long gone, now replaced with three individuals who sat scattered around the shop, all busy with their own devices. the bells above the front door chimed announcing the entrance of two men. with the way the two men loudly chattered in french, you doubted the need for the bells in the first place.

you moved from your spot leaning against the counter to the front cash register. your coworker, michelle, had stepped out not too long ago for her break, leaving the cafe in your very capable hands.

“bonjour! welcome to le pain d'amour, i can take your order whenever you guys are ready!” you channelled your best customer service voice and looked up. the smile you slapped onto your face faltered slightly when you realized the faces of the two men standing across from you.

there in front of you stood f1 drivers, charles leclerc and pierre gasly.

you snapped back into reality when charles opened his mouth, “bonjour! can i just get an iced coffee and a croissant sandwich?”

you nodded as you entered his order into the system, “and for you?”

your question was directed to pierre, who had been gazing at the (h/c)-haired boy sitting on one of the stools near the counter. his head snapped back to you, a smile following as he looked over your head at the menu. a quick apology left his lips as he requested some more time, before opting to get the same as his friend but with a cookie as well.

as you turned to make their orders, telling the men to take a seat wherever and that you would call them up whenever their order was ready, you missed pierre gesturing towards the young boy, pulling charles up to sit on the stools near the kid. the alpha tauri driver couldn’t help but miss his nephew as he watched the young boy colour his page with great focus.

the quiet clicks of keys, and the music playing over the speakers was now overshadowed by the aggressive sounds of a crayon scraping against paper and the sound of the two drivers chattering in french. although loud enough for others to hear them, the speed at which the two men spoke made it hard to understand what they were saying.

“maman, regardez ça.” mom, look at this.

you drew your eyes from the espresso machine to the five-year-old, thomas, and the paper held up in his hand. you absorbed the shapes and lines on the paper before looking at the boy who was smiling widely.

“devinez ce que c'est!” guess what it is!

his energy was palpable, no thanks to the three hours he had spent sleeping on the couch in the backroom while you worked outside. you looked back at the machine, noticing the coffee just barely starting to stream. 

you decided to entertain the boy, “hmm,” you furrowed your eyebrows in fake confusion, “est-ce un chien?” is it a dog?

“what?!” he gaped at you, “not even close! réessayer.” try again.

you giggled at the young boy’s exasperated face, “désolé, mon petit. je dois retourner au travail.” sorry, my child. i have to get back to work.

if it wasn’t for sanitary reasons, you would have reached over and ruffled his hair to get him to smile. instead, you resorted to calling out to him again, “stop pouting, amour.”

thomas grumbled, a mess of both french and english, albeit both sloppy, escaping his small lips.

a voice broke his muttering, “puis-je deviner?” can i guess?

both you and the boy looked over to where pierre sat, a small smile gracing his lips. you looked back at the young boy, eyes wide open and jaw slacked. 

you huffed a small laugh, “tommy, ferme ta bouche.” close your mouth.

thomas sat up straight, “you’re in f1!”

he turned to look at you, “maman!! driver! un pilote de course!” a racing driver!

it was endearing, listening to him exclaim in both french and english. you, yourself, had been raised in a bilingual household, with your father being a native english speaker, who met your monégasque mother on his summer vacation. you grew up in a household where both english and french were spoken in tandem, and now, with your own son, you couldn’t help but raise him the same way. 

you turned back to finish making the drinks that said driver had ordered, “oui, and he asked you something. sois poli et réponds-lui.” yes…be nice and answer him.

tommy’s eyes grew wide again and he turned back to the driver next to him, “pouvez-vous répéter votre question?” can you repeat your question?

pierre pointed to the drawing, repeating his question in english this time, “can i guess what you drew?”

thomas looked down at his drawing. an attempt at copying the foam art you had done on his long-empty cup of hot chocolate.

he looked back at you for guidance, gesturing you to come closer to him with his hand. you placed the sandwiches and coffees in front of the drivers, smiling apologetically to pierre for your son’s blatant avoidance of his question. 

“i’ll get you your cookie in just a minute,” you stated, to which he responded, “pas d'inquiétude.” no worries.

as you neared the cookie display, and thomas, he reached up and whispered into your ear, “what if he thinks my drawing is really bad?”

you looked down at the boy, a small smile gracing your lips, “i’m sure he’ll think you’re very talented, and if he doesn’t…” you trailed off as you placed the cookie onto a plate. 

after placing the cookie in front of pierre, you leaned down to whisper in your son’s ear, “i’ll fight him.”

thomas giggled, moving away from you to push his drawing in front of the driver, “maman said if you think i’m a bad drawer, she will fight you.”

charles’ chortle was loud, turning into a series of coughs as he choked on his coffee. you gasped quietly, quickly turning away from the three to avoid pierre’s amused gaze and get charles a tissue, to which he nodded with a red face, eyes watering. you began cleaning your station, ears not having to strain to hear the conversation going on behind you.

as charles’ coughs died down, pierre sighed, “well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

after a small sip of his own coffee, he continues, “is this a cup?”

you couldn’t see it but pierre was pointing to a spot on the drawing. 

thomas nodded excitedly, “mhm! c'est une tasse comme celle-là.”

the five-year-old pointed to the large array of coffee cups and mugs just to the left of where you stood.

pierre nodded, “is this design on top one of those foam…” he trailed off forgetting the words.

charles piped up from his spot, “latte form art?”

again, thomas nodded fast, “yes! but maman says i can’t have coffee so she makes me it on hot chocolate!”

both charles and pierre nodded at his words, “your mother is very smart, then.”

you turned around just in time to catch thomas nodding super fast, cheeks turning red at the compliment. 

pierre took a bite out of his sandwich and charles decided to reach out and make conversation with the kid, “what’s your name, buddy?”

“thomas! with an h,” he started, going on a ramble about his classmate who also shared the same name, but without the h. 

your attention got pulled from the conversation as you heard the bell chime again. this time, however, it was your coworker coming back from her break, keeping the door open for the person who was leaving the shop.

michelle smiled at you with a wave, tapping on her wrist as if to indicate the time. you looked at your own wrist, eyes widening to realize your shift was due to end in about 10 minutes. as slow as your shift had started, in the presence of the two drivers, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how fast time had passed.

there wasn’t much for you to do, waiting for the time to pass. as thomas continued chatting up the two f1 drivers, you made rounds around the tables placed in the shop, cleaning up any messes left behind.

with thomas and pierre’s loud voices filling up the air, it wasn’t long before michelle pulled you by your arm, eyes widened at the sight of the two very famous men sitting next to your son. her inquisitive look made you laugh quietly, explaining that they had come in not too long ago and had already ordered, and finished most of their food by the looks of it.

the ten minutes went by quickly, and you found yourself apologetically disrupting the very important conversation between thomas, charles, and pierre about whether or not a velociraptor could outrun charles in his ferrari. (charles: “velociraptors cannot run as fast as a racecar.” pierre, smacking his hand on the table: “you can’t believe everything you read on the internet!” thomas: “yeah! raptors are fast!”)

you smoothed out thomas’ hair, “hey, mon petit chou. i’m gonna go get our stuff from the back so we can get ready to go, okay? why don’t you start wrapping up the conversation?”

you left before charles could ask for your opinion on the matter, not wanting to face the wrath of either side if you defended the other.

by the time you made it back out, thomas was sitting on his stool, hunched over a piece of paper, a red pencil crayon held tightly in his hand as he drew something. the plate with pierre’s cookie now sat next to the boy, small teeth marks indicating that instead of the man who had ordered the cookie, the young boy was the one eating it.

pierre, noticing your return, smiled sheepishly as if embarrassed. whether it was for not ensuring your son had packed up before you came back, or for the fact that he got caught giving your son a cookie, you weren’t sure.

 “sorry, he said he wanted to draw something for us,” pierre started, his eyes catching the movement of thomas taking another bite of the cookie before darting back to your amused face, “and sorry for the cookie, i always intended on giving it to him, but i realize now i should have probably asked before if he could have one.”

you smiled at him, “don’t worry about it, either of the things. the cookies are by far his favourite item on the menu and he’s not had one yet, so no harm done.”

charles leaned over from his spot, pushing against pierre, “so, do you think i could beat a velocirapt-”

pierre’s groan cut him off, “fermez-la déjà.” shut up already.

charles poked pierre with his elbow, “no, you,” before he turned back to you, “google says raptors only travel about 40 km/h…”

you laughed, “i’m afraid i cannot give my answer without risking my life,” you gestured your head towards the boy still colouring, now with a blue pencil in his hand instead.

“i think that gave your answer perfectly.” though his words were directed to you, charles couldn’t help but stare at pierre, a cocky smirk planted on his lips.

before pierre could retort, thomas sat up eagerly, “j'ai fini!” i'm done!

he pushed the piece of paper into the middle of the counter, right in front of pierre. looking over thomas’ head, you couldn’t help but smile at the picture he drew.

two racecars, one red and one speckled with blue, the numbers 16 and 10 drawn on either car respectively. in between the two racecars stood four people. three squares bodies and one triangle, three boys and one girl. as thomas pointed at each aspect of his drawing including the people, not that any of them needed any supporting description, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that the triangle stick figure was connected at the hand to the smallest square figure. you and thomas, holding hands.

after pierre and charles thanked thomas profusely, you helped him hop off the stool. you turned to look at the two drivers one last time, “thank you for keeping him entertained today, you really didn’t have to.”

“nonsense, he’s a good kid.” charles smiled, pierre nodding at his words, “hopefully, we’ll see you both again.”

you smiled, “well, i’m here nearly every morning, so y’know.”

you helped thomas put his backpack on, “have a good summer break, both of you. hope the rest of the season treats you two well!”

the racecar drivers smiled, waving bye to both of you as you walked towards the door. before stepping foot outside, however, thomas turned around.

 “maman’s number is written on the back! bye!”

A/N: second part is now posted!! read lonely nights in monaco here!!

[winterrrnight]

fan behaviour

PAIRING: drew starkey x musician!gn!reader

SUMMARY: the reader is a well known artist. Little do they know, they are their favorite actor's favorite singer.

WARNINGS: small mentions of anxiety

EDITH SPEAKS: the idea of musician!reader is inspired by @runningfrom2am 's fic 'kinda famous!' it's so so good, i definitely recommend reading it! <3 The plot of both the fics is nowhere near same, I've only taken inspiration from it :)

please like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading 🫶🏻 feedback is always appreciated :)

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The lights on the stage slowly start to dim down, and the crowd starts to get louder. You can't help but grin widely in your position at the backstage, ready to feel that familiar feeling of adrenaline rush through your veins each time you perform for your fans.

You've been in the music industry for quite a few years now, but you blew up recently with your second studio album. It was all so unexpected: the fame rising hotly each day, your fanbase increasing exponentially, and you getting the exposure you've always dreamed of. Music is your life, you've always wanted to impact the world with your music, and now here you are, ready to perform in your first arena.

The arena fits up to 9,000 people, and you were taken by surprise when you were informed that the concert is sold out. You start to feel the nerves kicking in, so you do a little breathing exercise you always do whenever anxiety starts to make its way to you.

"Hey, you'll be fine," your guitarist and best friend, Mia says. She hugs you tightly. "You are one of the best. All those people out there are here to see you rock and perform. You will do so wonderful."

"Thank you Mia," you smile at her. She acknowledges your smile, and your bandmates all go up on the stage, leaving you behind. They always start off with an intro before your entry. As they all walk up the stage, the crowd starts to scream even louder.

The intro lasts around 30 - 40 seconds, before it's your turn to go up. "You can do this," you whisper to yourself. You then make your way to the stage, and the screaming gets even louder, the crowd going absolutely wild to see you.

"Thank you everyone for coming!" You say in your mic, the crowd continuing to cheer you on. "I hope we all have the best time ever. I can't believe it: it's our first ever arena show!" The cheering and screaming continues on and you take a second to take in the crowd. The largest crowd of people is out there supporting you. You know you have to make it the most memorable experience for everyone out there, and for yourself.

Your band starts to play, and you start to sing the opening song. You've sung all these songs so many times; you've lost count. But each time you enjoy singing them even more. Music is in your soul, it's what makes you who you are.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You have prepared one of the longest setlist you've ever performed. It lasts for almost 2 hours, but to you, it feels like it was just a few minutes. This is definitely one of your favorite concerts, the crowd is insane, they are singing every lyric back to you. You love to be interactive with your fans so you have a few interactions with them throughout the show. You get so many bouquet of flowers, stuff toys, and see some of the most heart touching signs in the crowd.

You have just finished performing your last song of the evening, and the crowd is louder than ever. No one in the arena is feeling a lack of energy. Your bandmates come on your side and you all hug each other, big smiles on your faces.

"This is one of the most memorable nights of my life," you say in the mic. "You all mean the whole world to me, and the support you give me is overwhelming." You feel tears form in your eyes but you control yourself from letting them fall. "I hope every single person present here discovers peace and love in there life. You all deserve the whole world - actually, scratch that - you all deserve the whole fucking universe, and I would be a goner without you guys. Thank you for coming tonight! I hope I'll see most of you in the meet and greet!"

With the last screaming and cheering of the day, all of you get off the stage. There is an hour before the meet and greet starts, which gives you time to rest and change out of your sweaty clothes. For this hour you have a pop up shop set up, where your fans can buy your exclusive merch.

Out there in the crowd, there is a person you have no idea is there. It was THE Drew Starkey, one of your favorite actors of all time. You've seen him in movies with minor roles, to go and take on a big role like Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks.

And you are pretty much Drew's favorite singer. He's been listening to your music long before you blew up, in fact he's been listening to you since almost the beginning of your career.

He gets to see you live for the first time today, and he just falls in love with your stage presence. The way you sound even more beautiful live, the way you move around the stage dancing and hyping up everyone in the crowd, he's in love with it all.

And today, he has a big chance of meeting you. He got a meet and greet ticket, and in less than an hour you're about to meet him.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

"Awww you're so sweet oh my god!" You say, taking the gift from the fan. She made a fan book for you by collecting messages for you from your fans all around the world though social media.

"I'm so happy you like it!" She says, ecstatically, as you lean in to give her another hug. You both turn around towards the camera to get the picture clicked. After greeting your last goodbyes, the girl leaves the room.

From outside, you hear the guard say, "next!" You walk towards the table set on the side to get yourself a glass of water. Behind your back, Drew has walked inside the room. You turn around to see Drew Starkey standing in front of you. You spit out the water in your mouth in utter shock.

"OH MY GOD!" You yell out loud, making Drew laugh. You rush up to him and give him a big hug. "Wow! It's Drew Starkey in front of me!"

"I'm such a massive fan of you," Drew says with a smile. Your mouth falls wide open. Drew Starkey is a fan of you?

"This is insane because I'm such a massive fan of you."

"WHAT? REALLY?" Drew says out loud, totally not expecting to hear that back. Your excitement matches with his as you nod your head vigorously.

"YES! I've been obsessed with your acting since so long now, every single role you've ever done is simply chef's kisses," you say, doing the chef's kisses gesture after.

"This is sick, come on give me another hug," he says laughing, and you without any hesitation walk up to him and wrap your arms around his torso, while his are around your waist. You hug him tightly, and he hugs you back even tighter. He then starts to sway you both in your position, making you chuckle.

You tilt your head up, resting your chin on his chest and looking in his eyes. In this moment, everything feels so surreal. It feels so... right to be in this position, with his arms holding you this tightly, making you feel so safe, that not a single thing in this world can hurt you now.

"Uh... so sorry to ruin the moment here but we don't have much time left and quite many fans are still left to meet you," the guard says. You and Drew suddenly snap back into reality and spring away from each other.

"Oh... oh yes," you stammer.

"Can we get a picture?" Drew asks you.

"Oh of course!" You say. He hugs from the side and you both look ahead at the camera, both of you grinning widely.

"It was so wonderful meeting you Drew," you smile at him.

"You too," he smiles at you back. Drew walks to the exit door, but before he can leave, he turns around to look at you.

"Will I see you again?"

This causes your lips to upturn in the biggest grin.

"Yes."

[cest-la-vieve]

Head Games

Summary: Smutty follow-up to Mind Games (which I encourage you to read first and if you haven't you can do so here) where reader has been waiting to see if Azriel makes good on his threat... and he does.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Smut under the cut!!! (Had to fulfill the disturbing lack of shadowplay on this site)

Notes: the widely requested part two of Mind Games!! i hope you guys enjoy, this is my first attempt at smut and i definitely enjoyed writing it so i hope that translates well into reading. as always, feel free to hmu with any suggestions, feedback, or requests!!

---

“You have no idea what you started, angel.”

The words rang through my head for weeks following the interaction. 

At the time, even as I had opened my mouth to respond, he was gone. Nothing but wisps of shadows were left in his wake. I had stayed pressed up against that wall longer than I cared to admit, waiting until my breathing had evened back out before finally pulling myself away.

Despite the fact I could hear Mor and Cassian yelling at me tomorrow for not joining them at Rita’s, I had just gone upstairs, taken a bath, and gone to bed. I couldn’t handle going there and not knowing if he was there or not.

For weeks, I watched him at every official meeting, every informal dinner, and even from the hall as he would make his breakfast every morning. He acted casual through all of it, no hint of the male who had made the most terrifying, yet sensual promise I had ever heard.

I refused to be the one to bring it up. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted or what he had meant. If he intended to just win game night or if he meant something… more. I couldn’t help myself from letting my thoughts wander when I was alone. How he would be… What he would say… I had let my hands wander my body imagining they were his more times than I could count. I just kept waiting for him to say something, but he never did.

The next three game nights were of no consequence, going exactly how they usually did. I refused to be lulled into a false sense of security, though, knowing that was probably exactly his plan. So I kept my guard up, though I didn’t let him see that. I had learned enough from the other members of this Court to perfect my acting skills. So I went back to the sweet, innocent female they all knew, no hint of suspicions towards Azriel, and back to being competitive during our game nights.

It took two more before he made his move. I wasn’t sure whether he believed that I had forgotten it or if he had just decided now was the night.

I only knew that he was planning something when he began plying everyone but me with wine. Even as he passed the wine around, he gave me a pointed look that told me I shouldn’t refill my glass. I just quirked an eyebrow in response and he sent me a devilish grin that sent my head reeling.

I had no idea what his plan was but if it started with getting everyone drunk, that I could help with.

I lifted my glass, “I propose a-”

“Game of Paranoia.”

I turned to Az, furrowing my eyebrows. I was just going to say we should play a drinking game if the goal was to get people drunk, but Paranoia would be… interesting, to say the least.

I watched Rhys mentally check in with Feyre before extending a small nod of agreement to Azriel. Cassian and Nesta didn’t even look at each other before they instantly agreed. Mor raised her glass with a smirk on her lips before taking a sip. Amren was curled up in Varian’s lap but gave a hum of agreement.

Azriel’s eyes hadn’t left mine since he had made the suggestion. I noted the challenge that lay within them and couldn’t help myself from saying, “Are you sure you can handle any of your secrets coming out, Shadowsinger?”

Everyone looked at me in shock, but Azriel gave me a downright feral grin. “It’s not my secrets I’d be worried about.”

I could feel everyone glancing between us in confusion but I refused to be the one to break whatever staring contest this had turned into. Someone cleared their throat, dragging both Azriel and me from each other’s gaze.

Elain sheepishly asked, “What’s Paranoia?”

“Paranoia, my dear Elain,” Cassian said, grinning as he placed an arm around her shoulder from his place next to her, “Is a game where you whisper a question to the person next to you and they answer out loud with someone in the room. A coin flip decides whether the question is revealed to the group or if it stays secret. Heads, it stays secret. Tails, everyone gets to hear it.”

Elain’s mouth dropped into an “o” shape as she registered the rules. She looked at me and I shrugged, offering her a comforting smile. That was all the confirmation she needed and she nodded to the group, “Okay, I’m in.”

We all took a few moments to shuffle around the room, getting into an order that we thought would be the most fun. I sat next to Nesta, already making a mental list of questions I could ask her. She was next to Elain, then Rhysand, then Feyre, then Mor, then Amren (on top of Varian, who refused to play), then Cassian, and then… I glanced to my right and saw Azriel, with a straight face but a triumphant glimmer in his eye.

I smacked myself internally, how did I let him wind up next to me? I should’ve paid more attention.

“Who’s going first?” I asked, distancing myself from the intimidating male next to me.

Everyone glanced around the room before we all collectively settled on Rhysand. He held up his hands in mock surrender, “Hey, I thought we didn’t enforce rank in this Court.”

I laughed and Feyre shoved him with her shoulder, “Just ask me a question, Rhys!”

He shook his head, laughing at us, before grinning and leaning over to whisper in Feyre’s ear. Cassian made a big show of talking loudly, distracting our Fae hearing from listening in on the question. In his best (worst) Rhys impression he nearly shouted, “Feyre darling, who is the most handsome High Lord? Who is the smartest High Lord?”

I was laughing so hard by the end of it, that I went to slap my hand on the couch but instead met a solid surface. I glanced my eyes up, wiping the tears threatening to spill over with my other hand, and froze as I realized where my hand was. Azriel looked at me, amused, as I flushed and went to retract my hand from his extremely muscular knee. Quicker than I could process, his hand flashed out and pressed mine against his knee again, a silent command in his eyes to leave my hand there.

“What are you doing? The others will-” I whispered harshly but he cut me off, subtly nodding to the wine that was still being passed around.

“They won’t see anything we don’t want them to.”

“That doesn’t answer what you’re doing.”

“Just play the game, Peach.”

“Definitely Cassian,” Feyre answered, saving me any more whispers with the Shadowsinger. I kept my gaze focused on her and Rhys as I felt Azriel slowly take my hand off of his knee and intertwined our fingers between us. I could feel the velvety shadows wrap around our hands, hiding them from our intoxicated friends.

Groans of frustration sounded as the quarter landed on heads, meaning none of us were going to know what Feyre was asked. Rhys, however, looked satisfied enough with her answer as he leaned back, crossing his arms and resting one ankle on his knee.

Feyre grinned deviously at Mor and leaned in to whisper in her ear, gesturing at everyone to talk or make sounds. Mocking Cassian, I did my best to imitate Feyre, “Mor, remember what you told me about wingspans?” Everyone burst out laughing and I grinned at them.

Apparently, Feyre’s question had been a short one because Mor instantly replied, “Oh Peach for sure.”

My eyes widened but she winked at me. “Do you guys even remember my actual name?”

Everyone shook their heads and Mor said, “Something with an H? Or maybe it was an M?”

“It’s only ‘cause you’re sweet as peaches and definitely not for the time you threw up peach wine everywhere,” Cassian slurred, and I wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered.

“Anyways,” Feyre said, clearing her throat and uncovering the coin on the back of her hand, “Tails!”

Mor sat back, unphased, and said, “Our High Lady asked me who I thought the most innocent in bed is.”

My mouth dropped open as everyone looked at me, questioning the validity of her answer. I gathered my thoughts and mustered a wink, squeezing Azriel’s hand that still gently held mine in the confines of his shadows. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Morrigan?”

Mor threw her head back in laughter before turning to Amren. She whispered in her ear and Amren answered, “Rhysand, clearly. The rest of you are idiots.”

Despite the intrigue of her clarification, Mor’s question once again remained a secret. Amren and Varian discussed in hushed tones before she leaned into Cassian. I saw Cas tense, not sure how to act with Amren that close to his jugular, I’m sure.

Cassian’s let out a wry grin before pointedly saying, “Feyre.”

Amren’s smile was nothing less than feline as she tossed the coin and it came up heads. Cass’s head snapped up in a panic and he expertly avoided Feyre and Rhys’ lines of sight.

“Well, brother?” Rhys asked, teasing him.

“She asked who was the most scared of her.”

Feyre’s mouth formed a tight line, “Well then I’m the smartest one of us here. We should all be terrified.”

Rhys just nodded in support of his High Lady and I was inclined to agree with them both. Amren was by far the scariest of us, even if she wasn’t quite otherwordly anymore.

Cass, though drunk, quickly rushed to Azriel’s side to ask him something. I leaned far enough away that I wouldn’t hear the question and smiled at Nesta.

Azriel squeezed my hand before answering, “Elain.”

I quickly pulled my hand out of his, ignoring the pain and question that crossed his face. I had forgotten about his feelings for Elain in this whole game we had been playing. Or maybe I was right and he wasn’t playing a game - I was just reading into things.

The coin came up heads and I couldn’t hide my disappointment. Maybe knowing the question could have… No, I was delusional. Azriel was nothing more than my friend.

But as he leaned in close to my ear, my thoughts wandered back to his strong arms caging me in against the wall. My heart began beating faster and I was thankful for the amount of alcohol our friends had consumed so they couldn’t hear it.

“Forgive me, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Cass only asked me which Archeron sister I think would have the most suitors in Prythian. And considering two are mated…”

I relaxed, letting the tension leave my shoulders, and melted into his side. He discreetly brought a hand to my back, his thumb rubbing small circles there. “Besides, we have our own game going, don’t we, Peach?”

I nodded and smiled, relieved that I hadn’t been reading too much into what had happened a few weeks ago. I knew this was a game and just like every other game night, I was determined to win.

“Good girl. Now, tell the group who you think the most likely to face Bryaxis without flinching is.”

He pulled away and I blinked at him. That was a surprisingly easy question considering how he prefaced it. I narrowed my eyes and he just softly chuckled in response.

“Amren. No question,” I said to the group, laughing as the female’s eyes narrowed in warning at me.

Fortunately or unfortunately, it was tails.

“He asked who would face Bryaxis without flinching,” I shrugged. “We’ve already established how scary Amren is.” Laughter spread throughout the room as Varian stared up at Amren with an infinite amount of admiration and amusement.

I looked at Nesta, winked, took a big swig from the bottle in front of me, and said, “Let’s make this game a little more interesting, I know you guys can do better with these questions.”

Nesta, for her part, looked a little concerned, not sure how far I was going to take this. I leaned forward and whispered, “Who are you most likely to invite to join you and Cassian for an evening?”

She flushed before shooting me the most murderous look I had seen. I already knew the answer - she had divulged it one girls’ night (conveniently when Feyre couldn’t make it) and the topic had come up after a few too many glasses of wine.

“This is a stupid game,” she said to the group.

“Oh, come on, Nes. It can’t be that bad,” Cassian said from his position next to Az.

“Fine. Azriel.”

I smirked in reply flipping the coin and catching it. I peeked under my hand. Fuck. Tails. No way I would survive if I forced Nesta to say the question out loud. She’d kill me here and now.

“Heads,” I said confidently, tossing the coin to Nesta before anyone could see it.

The game went on like that, though the questions didn’t get much more interesting based on what was revealed. I was increasingly tipsy from the small sips of wine I’d consumed and the mesmerizing way Azriel’s hand wandered my back, tracing invisible shapes on it. I was playing tricks of my own - making sure my shirt was pulled down whenever he looked over, laughing and returning my hand to his thigh, but higher each time. By the time it was Az’s turn again I was about ready to crawl into his lap and beg for him to take me up to his room.

His shadows covered up his ministrations on my back as the focus of the room was on us. They rode up the shirt I was wearing and tickled my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. I could feel him smirk against my ear.

“Angel, who are you most likely to take to bed out of this group?”

I gave him an exasperated look and whispered back, “You, Azriel.”

“Oh no, not just to me - answer to the group.”

Fine. If he wanted to keep playing, I’d keep playing. “Why you, Azzy boy!” I shouted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, careful of the wings, and drawing a fingernail down the front of his chest.

His face didn’t shift an inch but this close to him I could feel the shiver that wracked through his body. I moved closer, making sure to push my chest forward the slightest bit, just to snag his attention. 

Rhysand laughed as he flipped the coin, seemingly ignorant to the tension between Azriel and me growing thicker with every moment that passed.

A chorus of “Tails!” rang out as the coin landed. I snapped my head to Rhys, who held out a hand triumphantly, the coin sitting heads up in his palm.

I could feel the blush warming my cheeks as all eyes turned to Azriel to announce the question to the group. This game suddenly became a bit too real, I made to stand but Azriel’s answer stopped me.

“I asked who was the most likely to win at the next game night,” he said, ever the picture of the calm, cool, and collected Shadowsinger.

My mouth parted slightly at his answer and once everyone began demanding I ask Nesta another question, Az sent a wink my way.

I turned to the eldest Archeron and quickly came up with a plan. I leaned close and said, “Nes, will you do me favor?”

She nodded, a mischievous smile gracing her face as if I was asking a particularly intriguing question.

“Make up an excuse - any - for this little party to end early. I’ll owe you one.”

She looked at me in confirmation and whispered, “Whatever that coin lands on, just say heads. Trust me.”

I nodded subtly and waited for her to say a name. Soon enough a proud, “Cassian” rang through the room.

I flipped the coin, shielding it from the prying eyes of the Spymaster next to me, and said, “Heads.”

More groaning followed it but quieted down once Nesta stood and passed Azriel and me to crouch near Cassian. She whispered something to him and he immediately stood and scooped her into his arms before marching out of the room like he was on a mission. I had no interest in knowing what she told him the question had been.

Feyre, predictably, took that as a cue to leave as well, standing from the couch and dragging Rhys out behind her, Elain following behind to accompany them to the River House. Soon enough, Mor and Amren left to head to Rita’s, not wanting to stick around after everyone had left.

With everyone sufficiently cleared out, I turned to Azriel, “Now what was that question, Shadowsinger?”

He let out a chuckle that sent electricity blooming in my chest and said, “You clever, wicked female.”

I reached behind my back to remove his hand from where it sat, instead twining it with mine. I stood and used my other hand to push him down by his shoulder when he tried to stand too. He tilted his head in confusion and glanced towards the stairs in a question.

I shook my head. “You know, Azriel,” I purred his name and didn’t miss the way his hand gripped mine tighter, “I know your spy skills are legendary but maybe your counting is off.”

I smiled down at him, doing my best to look sultry, and continued, “Feyre, Rhysand, and Elain left for the River House. Nesta and Cassian left for gods know where. Varian, Amren, and Mor went to Rita’s.”

“I can count, Peaches,” he all but growled.

I took my hand off his shoulder, placing it instead on the top of his head. I gripped his hair in my hand, pulling enough that a small noise escaped the back of his throat, and swung a leg over his thigh, moving to straddle him. I used the grip on his hair to not-so-gently guide his head to the side. I paused, debating my next move. He just sat, waiting for whatever I was going to do or say. His body was tense from all the teasing but I could tell he was also nervous about taking this further, about how far I was willing to go.

The hesitancy and softness in his eyes decided my next move. I licked a clean strip from his collarbone and up his neck. His hands found purchase on my waist immediately, pulling me against his chest. A breathy giggle left my lips as I carded my hand through his hair and leaned down to whisper, “Then you realize we have the house all to ourselves.”

That snapped whatever leash head put himself on. 

One second I was on his lap as he sat on the couch, the next I was pressed up against a wall. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, one hand still in his hair and my other arm resting lazily on his shoulder. His large hands were under me, holding me to him and creating delicious friction between us.

His lips ghosted over mine and I tilted my head up, craning my neck and offering myself to him.

When he still hadn’t kissed me, I frowned and opened my eyes.

He was watching me intently, those hazel eyes nearly black and lidded with lust but glinting with mischief.

“One final game, angel,” he whispered.

I quirked an eyebrow, my mind already fuzzy with his proximity and the thoughts of what he was going to do.

“I’m not going to kiss you until you’re begging me to.”

“And if I get you to beg first?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a game unless the playing field was even.”

I smirked, racking my brain for ways to get the Shadowsinger at my mercy.

I grinned as the idea came to me. Using my arm that was resting on his shoulder, I ran a teasing nail across the top of his wing.

I gasped as it caused his hips to grind into me, grasping his hair tighter in my fingers, and throwing my head back against the wall.

“You wicked thing. I forgot you don’t play fair. Lucky for you, neither do I,” he murmured into my ear.

I felt one of his large hands move from my ass to my throat, but he didn’t put pressure on it. Instead, he took a thumb and gently swiped it to my chin, using it to turn my head to one side.

A kiss pressed to the left side of my mouth, accompanied by a roll of his hips into me. He turned my head to the other side with his thumb and repeated the action.

It was embarrassing how quickly I was ready to fold. My breath had already quickened, my core clenching around nothing, practically screaming at me to swallow my pride and beg.

But then my mind registered just how hard the Spymaster was against me, how rapid his chest was heaving, and the desperate hold his other hand maintained on my ass. I could break him. I would break him.

After his chaste kisses on the side of my mouth failed, he seemed to change tactics, moving instead to my neck. I panted as he sucked marks there, soothing each one with his tongue afterward.

I moaned his name at the same time I grasped his wing, firmer this time.

He groaned against me at the touch. His hips moved in a few quick thrusts into me instead of the teasing ones from earlier.

I realized I was still pressed against the wall as the flat surface dug into my shoulder blades. I also realized just how much clothing separated us - and how I wanted it to be much, much less.

Azriel hadn’t stopped his ministrations on my neck and the hand on my neck had begun a descent towards my bra.

“Az,” I said softly.

A small grunt in response.

“Az,” I said more firmly, but still breathless.

This time a moan.

“Azriel,” I said, grabbing his hair and tugging his face away from my neck.

For a second we sat there, staring at each other and breathing erratically.

He had never looked more intoxicating. His hair was slightly matted from sweat and mussed from me running my hands through it. His cool, calm, and collected demeanor was gone and replaced with something much hungrier.

To hell with it - 

“Please,” to my surprise we gasped it out at the same time.

A grin and laugh from both of us.

“A tie, then?” I asked him.

“A tie.”

And with that his lips met mine, gentle, exploring. Fireworks went off all throughout me and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him like this for the rest of my life.

In between increasingly desperate kisses, I managed to tell him, “Upstairs.”

He took the hint, pulling me away from the wall, and starting the walk to the stairs.

I kissed him faster, asking for more from him, as we got closer to the stairs. He chuckled against my lips at my impatience though it changed into a moan as I lifted up and ground myself against him.

“What happened to having the house to ourselves?” He asked, jokingly.

“Azriel, I would let you fuck me on any and every surface in this house if you wanted. All you have to do is ask,” he pressed a hard kiss to my lips at that and I pulled away, breathless, to finish, “But… I want to take my time with you. I want to have all of you and I want to savor every moment… Preferably on a soft bed.”

He didn’t say anything, just captured my lips with his own, and continued the path to the stairs.

Clothing was shed and thrown over the railing as we ascended. My legs doing the majority of the work to keep me upright as first my shirt came off and then his.

I only had time to ogle once we made it to his room and he tossed me onto the bed. I giggled as I bounced and settled on my back, propping myself up on my elbows, as he remained standing at the foot of the bed.

I shook my head to get my hair off my shoulders and onto my back, relishing the way it tickled my bare skin. I took him in - the ever-imposing Shadowsinger of the Night Court, chest rising and falling slower now, muscles lining his torso and contracting as he slowly untied and stepped out of his pants. 

His golden skin had a sheen of sweat already on it. His wings flared out as his eyes raked over my body, even though I still had my bra and pants on. I blushed at the intensity of his gaze, realizing I was semi-naked in front of one of my best friends.

As if he sensed my hesitation, he slowly climbed on the bed and settled over me. I laid back, moving my hands to explore the expanse of his broad shoulders and chest, using a finger to trace the tattoos that decorated his skin. He shivered under my touch and I grinned up at him, only slightly balking at his beautiful face positioned above mine.

“Where’d all that confidence go, Peach?” He murmured, bracing himself on one arm while bringing the other between us. His scarred hand cupped one of my cheeks and there was no trace of the desperation from earlier in his eyes or face.

I smiled bashfully, stopping my roaming hands on his shoulders. “You’re… so beautiful,” I said softly. “And I… well, I - you’re one of my best friends, and as much as I want this, want you, I don’t want you to think poorly of me.” I finished with a frown.

His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked at me as if I just said I wanted to go visit Bryaxis.

“Sweetheart,” the hand on my cheek moved to brush the hair out of my face, then trailed down a shoulder, “I have wanted you from the moment I saw you. And not just in my bed. You.”

I couldn’t stop the childish grin that spread across my lips, “Really?”

He smiled back, “Really.”

“Why don’t you prove just how much you wanted me, then?” I winked at him.

“There she is,” he grinned and I flushed with arousal and pride at his praise.

Without saying anything else, I put one hand on the back of his head and brought my lips to his. I wrapped my legs back around his waist and his free arm traveled down to my hip and gave me a teasing squeeze.

I moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer to me. Somehow my head was racing with thoughts and aware of every movement from both of us while also being completely empty and content to just let him do whatever he wanted to me.

I lifted my hips as his fingers toyed with the waist of my pants, giving him my approval to remove them. His lips didn’t leave mine as he helped them off of me. I relished the feeling of his warm, hard chest against mine as I arched to help kick them off completely.

Left only in our underthings, I pulled away enough to ask while looking behind him, “Can you lay on your back with those things or ?”

He nodded, wrapping an arm around my hips and flipping us over until I was settled on his lap. I smiled down at him as I settled my hips, slotting right between where I wanted him most.

I leaned forward, letting my hair fall around us like a curtain, and kissed him. His hand fisted into my hair and I smiled against his lips but purposefully kept my pace slow as I began to rock back and forth on top of him.

His hand that wasn’t in my hair moved to my back to the clasp that prevented my chest from being fully exposed. I nodded against him and he deftly unsnapped it letting it fall then tossing it elsewhere in the room.

He groaned dramatically and lifted his face up in between my breasts. I laughed, tossing my head back, unintentionally arching further into him. The arm wrapped around my back pulled me tighter against his face as he began nipping and licking. 

I moaned and reluctantly pulled back. He grunted at the loss of contact but quickly shut up as I began sliding down his body.

I kissed and licked and sucked my way down his chest, making sure to litter it with marks to match the ones I’m sure stood red and purple on my neck.

Words seemed to escape him as I finally ran my nails around the waistband of his underwear. Slowly, I circled them around his hip bones then finally ran them up and down his clothed cock, enjoying the way his hips flew off the bed and into my touch.

I moved my mouth to kiss his hip - one, then the other - then carefully used my teeth to drag his underwear down to his knees. The look in his eyes as I did so was enough to make me rub my thighs together.

I took him into my mouth without any more teasing, knowing he was losing what little patience he had. His hands instantly found my hair and I moaned around him as he tugged it gently.

Murmurs of my name and praise reached my ears as I continued working him. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Just like that,” he encouraged.

Every word that left his mouth shot straight through me and to what I’m sure were my already ruined underwear.

I kept going until his thrusts into my mouth became more forceful and I had to pull off for air. I couldn’t contain the moan I let out as I looked at the sight in front of me.

Azriel had his head thrown back but lifted it up at the loss of contact and the sound that ripped from my chest. His hazel eyes were nearly completely black under his hooded lids, his face was flushed a beautiful pink color on top of his golden skin, and his chest was heaving as sweat coated it.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” I meant to think but instead it rushed from my mouth in a breathy whisper.

He seemed to flush a bit before smirking and grabbing me gently by the shoulders and guiding me up his body. In a quick move, he had my back pressed against the mattress and his hard chest pressed against mine.

He rested on his forearms above me and brought his face close to my ear.

“Let’s see if you taste as good as you look, angel.”

I shivered in anticipation as he worked his way down my body, removing my bra on the way before reaching my hips.

He slowly stripped me of the final barrier of clothing between us and before he could do anything I put one hand on his shoulder. Sensing my hesitation, he looked up with concerned eyes.

“I - I’ve never… I don’t,” I sighed, unsure how to form the words.

“You’ve never had a male go down on you?” He asked gently, quirking a brow.

“Oh, no. I definitely have I just have never… enjoyed it much, yknow? And I just don’t want to… disappoint you,” I blushed and looked anywhere in the room but at him.

“Sweetheart, you clearly haven’t been bringing the right males to your bed.”

He shifted so he was above me again and took my chin in his thumb. When he turned my head towards him and I met his eyes I was surprised to see nothing but adoration and question shining there, no judgment or teasing. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Words, Peach.”

“Yes, Azriel. I trust you.”

“Then let me make you feel good. Let me ruin all other males for you. Let me make you mine.”

My brain had left me so long ago that I couldn’t gather my thoughts enough to tell him that I already was his. I wanted to shout that he already had ruined other males and even if we stopped here, I’d probably live the rest of my very long life in celibacy because nothing would live up to how he’d already treated me. So I just nodded dumbly and watched as he reassumed his position near the foot of the bed.

He smirked at me as he put one of my legs over his shoulder and held the other spread with one of his large hands. He licked a single stripe up my core and my hips jolted off the bed.

He looked up at me and for the second time that night, I moaned at just the sight of him.

He smirked and ran a finger of his free hand along my slit before bringing it to his mouth. “As sweet as peaches.”

Cauldron boil me, this male was trying to kill me.

I couldn’t get out a retort before he returned to his mission. Once I pushed past the original discomfort of having his face pressed against my most intimate parts, I realized he truly wasn’t like what I had experienced before.

Every flick of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers, and all the presses at my clit were meant only to bring me as much pleasure as possible and, slowly, it began to.

I let the rest of my body relax and focused only on how good he was making me feel. I went to thread my hands into his hair but found my wrists encircled by his shadows. “Az?”

“No touching, sweetheart. Your wicked hands will distract me.”

My mouth gaped open as his shadows tugged my hands above my head and held them there. Az laid a forearm against my stomach to keep my hips from moving and went back to work. And I realized that his calling in life wasn’t to be a Shadowsinger or a Spymaster but instead to be right here in between my legs and I’d do anything in my power to keep him there.

But my lust-addled brain disagreed and realized I was much, much too close to falling over that edge and I wanted much more of him before that.

“Az,” I moaned out and he doubled his efforts.

“No, Az, please,” I half-panted, half-groaned. 

I finally managed to tell him, “I want to come with you, on you. Please, Az.”

He stopped and looked up at me. His face was covered in my juices and his hair was sticking up in odd directions. “Are you sure, Peaches?”

“100%.”

He grunted and moved above me, connecting our mouths again. I moaned into his mouth as I felt him position himself at my entrance.

“Are you sure?” he echoed.

I nodded fervently against his mouth. I held my breath in anticipation but nothing happened. I snapped open my eyes just in time to feel a slight pressure on my throat.

I looked into Azriel’s hazel eyes and realized with one hand on himself, passing him back and forth between the wetness gathered between my thighs, and the other holding him above me…

I tore my gaze away from his and instead looked as best I could at my chest and neck. His shadows coated my entire upper body and some pressed against my throat. I threw my head back and whimpered as it pressed harder and harder.

Az said, “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?”

“I’m sorry, Azriel. Please, yes, gods, I’m ready. I’m sure.”

“There’s my good girl, Peaches.”

In one fluid motion, he was seated inside me with his hips pressed against mine. I hissed against the initial sting and his shadows hurriedly worked to find the most tender and ticklish spots of me to touch and tease. I let out a little laugh at their antics which caused my entire body to relax into Azriel’s strong arms.

“You can move,” I whispered.

He shook his head against my shoulder, sending his hair tickling against my collarbone.

I tried to assure him, “No, really, Azriel. I’m fine, you can move.”

Again he shook his head but this time he ground out, “If I move the fun will be over before it begins, sweetheart.”

“Wh-” I started to ask but flushed as I realized what he meant. I really got him that worked up? Me?

“You. Always you. Just for you.”

“Shit, Az. I said that out loud?”

He chuckled, his face still buried into my shoulder. “You did,” he pulled back and looked at me, scanning my face and body with his eyes, “And you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this exact moment.” He interrupted himself with a sharp thrust that had my eyes rolling back in my head. “Of everything that I would do once I finally got you in my bed,” another deep thrust. “And how beautiful you would look on my cock as you screamed my name,” and with that, he groaned and began thrusting into me at a pace fast enough that I thought the bed would break.

I just moaned along with him, his name, right into his ear, as he said, and grounded myself by digging my nails into his shoulders. That seemed to spur him on even further as he thrust harder, deeper, hungrier.

Over and over and over our bodies met and I felt nothing but the pleasure and intimacy of being so close to him and having him dragging over every nerve that existed in my body.

I couldn’t keep track of which of my movements were on purpose and which my body just did in response to how godsdamned good Azriel looked and felt. Why had we waited so long to do this?

I shook the thought from my head and instead sent a prayer up to the Mother for that silly idea during Mario Kart that led to this exact moment.

Azriel panted above me, his shadows circling the both of us, and I could feel the toe-curling, ab-clenching orgasm approaching.

“Talk to me, Az,” I forced out to the usually quiet and stoic Shadowsinger, suddenly worried about what was going through his head and if he was enjoying himself as much as I was.

He pulled out completely and flipped me onto my stomach before entering me again. I felt his tongue caress the curve of my ear as he ground into me from behind.

“You want to hear just how crazy you’re driving me? Do you want to hear about hard you make me? Or do you want to hear just how perfect you feel around me? How incredible your ass looks from here?”

I couldn’t respond. All I could do was moan as his words washed over me. 

“That’s it, love. It’s okay, let go. Come for me, peaches.”

So I did.

He followed a few thrusts later, moaning my name in my ear. My real name. None of the sweethearts, angels, Peachs, or anything else. He came for me.

It was almost enough to make me come again. Almost. I felt his delicious weight on my back as he shuddered through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

My brain wanted to shut off and fall asleep but I wouldn’t let it. I forced myself to stay awake as I felt him leave the bed and then return. I let out a shocked gasp as he grabbed my ankles and, somehow with his Fae or Illyrian strength, flipped me onto my back again.

He let out a smirk at my surprise and put those strong arms to work cleaning me up, leaving kisses in the wake of the rag he had retrieved, and whispering sweet nothings to me. When he was finished, he returned the dirty rag to the bathroom. I watched with hungry eyes as he walked, naked, back to the bed.

He chuckled as he climbed back into bed, sitting up, and spreading his wings against the headboard. He looked like a god. I was surprised there wasn’t drool leaking from the side of my mouth as my breath hitched at the sight of him. Mine.

He beckoned me with one hand to him and I instantly moved, cuddling up to his side and wrapping an arm around his bare waist.

I looked up at him, admiring his strong jaw and the post-sex haze that softened his features. He must have sensed my stare because he looked down and smiled at me. I smiled back, leaning into his touch as he ran a hand over my hair.

“Round 2?” I asked.

He looked at me with wide eyes, shock and excitement clear on his gorgeous face. “Already?”

“Well, I’d say you deserve a rematch at Mario Kart, wouldn’t you? With no distractions?” I teased with a wink.

Once he realized what I meant, he shook his head and chuckled, “Oh angel, you’re on.”

I couldn’t contain my giggle as he rushed off the bed, quickly pulling on his pants, before leaving the room to grab the stuff for Mario Kart.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Do you have any advice for fan fiction writers who aren't getting many readers etc? I feel like giving up some days but I love writing and find fan fiction my personal therapy if that makes sense. I'd love any advice you can give or any suggestions. 💕

Well, honestly I'm not any kind of authority so take whatever I say with a grain of salt. Because honestly, I never really thought I'd get any kind of following to begin with 😕 this surprised me, and still does to this day, more than anyone. When I started posting my first fic (very nervously and through the feeling like I was going to throw up) I thought "well, I'll just write a few chapters and probably no one will ever read it and I'll get bored and it'll be out of my system." And now here we are, and I have no idea how that happened 😳

What advice I can give is, you can't write for the sake of other people. I know that sounds cheap as hell because the whole point of sharing fic is to get feedback and interact with others in the fandom, but really at the heart of it you have to just write stories that you like and you want to read above everything else. Keep writing. Keep growing. Keep refining your work and your style so no matter what the view count is, you know you're becoming a better writer regardless. And truth be told, you never know what idea or fic will hit with readers and what won't. You may write something and think oh no one is gonna gaf about this and then out of nowhere, that's what people love. It happens more than you know.

Another thing is - and this is going to sound harsh at first but bear with me please - in this day and age sadly you have to manage your expectations. Not because you don't deserve more readers or comments or because your work isn't good, but because the culture of fandom and fanfic/fanart is changing, and not for the better. There's dozens of posts that make the rounds on here passively warning people about how a lot of writers and artists are getting burned out and fed up with the lack of reciprocal community from their audience. Tiktok and IG and all that shit has kind of ruined the landscape of fandom because now everything is seen as just consumption based. More and more people read a fic and move on, binge a show and move on, burn through a fandom's entire AO3 content in 3 months and move on, and it sucks. I mean when you look at fandoms of old, the days of Xena and Buffy for example, a lot of those fans are still around and still participating and still creating work even though the show/fandom/ships are long gone. You don't really see that loyalty much anymore, and it becomes a cycle of the fandom shrinking and then the feedback and comments and support grinds to a halt, and then creators stop feeling like wasting hours of their life to pour themselves into work that gets maybe a handful of comments even though they see hundreds or thousands of people have read it. It just sucks all around. So expecting to see the numbers that a fic did even 3-5 years ago, sadly, just isn't going to happen.

BUT

I do also know this, the Clexa fandom has been one of the best fandoms I've ever been in, both as just a fan on the outskirts and someone who tries to contribute. I've found Clexas to be funny and welcoming and we have a core group of fucking awesome and loyal, supportive readers, but the thing is you have to keep going. Sometimes building an audience and a regular group of readers takes time. Name recognition matters. Yes there are writers out there that are just synonymous with the fandom, but there's other writers (hi yes hello me, I mean me lol) who came late to the party and it's taken some time to get people to see their work. Tagging things and reblogging, talking in tags, reaching out to other people in the fandom and making friends who want to help you with your work because you help support theirs. All that stuff. It makes a difference. Damn near every week or so I get a new reader saying "wow idk how I hadn't heard of you before/read your stuff before but I'm glad I found it, keep going!" And that 100% will never have even the possibility of happening if you stop writing!

In the end, you just have to decide what's best for you. If this feels incredibly unhelpful I truly am sorry, I wish I had better advice to give you but I'm as clueless to this all as you are. But 2 things I do know for sure without a doubt? One, there is a place for you in any fandom, and your work does matter. There is an audience out there who want to read what you have to write and they'll love it. And two, in the end just be kind to yourself. Love yourself and be proud of yourself for trying, and for being creative and growing your work. Fanfic is supposed to be fun, writing about your favorite blorbos is meant to be fun, even if more often than not it feels like the equivalent of just dancing alone in your kitchen. Ya get what I mean?

[ollie-lolly]

Against our lord and savior

Media: Genshin Impact

Warnings: SMUT (minors under 18 plz don't interact)

Date: the project started 11 december 2022

Finished on: 23 of december 2022

Type: oneshot

Concept: When Thoma had an absurd idea of doing it in the worst room at the estate, the risk sure was high but not high enough…right?

This fic contains:

Smut with plot, overstim+crying, established relationship (Thoma and the reader), voyeurism (Ayato), hand kink, ,improper use of the word “lord”, handjob, cleaning gone wrong, spanking, mild degrading, ear biting, light temperature play(hot), aftercare, controlled orgasm and getting tied up

Relationship: Thoma x reader x Ayato

Characters:

gender neutral! readerxSWITCH! SWITCH!Thoma x DOM Ayato

Note:

This is my first proper fic. So please give constructive feedback! :D. I have not played Genshin much, so I am sorry if certain things are inaccurate. I would like to thank my friends for encouraging me to write this story. <3 This is the first thing i ever posted on tumblr so i am sorry if i am a hot mess. Plz let me know if i did somthing wrong.

Word count:2,700~

It has been a while since you and Thoma have established your relationship. You are bursting with curiosity: to know what things make him tick. Sure, he might seem picture perfect on the outside: with all the sweet things he does for others, paired with a beautiful smile to match! It was so convincing that you thought it was his true self! Lets just say as time went on he started to show a fraction of his true colors. So to know him more than just the sweetest fixer in Inazuma was your mission. You knew that was not going to be easy. Why, you ask? Well it is because of the (recent) constant watch of your lovely lord Ayato. It was already hard to keep your desires for each other a secret but in the last week it seems that Ayato needs Thoma’s help 24/7. Every Time your sweet boyfriend would get a heart attack from Ayato calling him the moment your gaze lingered on eachothers eyes. In fear of getting discovered. Afterall Ayato is a man who would most likely not enjoy the fact that his loyal servants bang on the formal estate grounds.

After a hard working day Ayato had an important message. The Kamisato sidlings had to go away for a week. Since there has been a growing issue in a nearby area. Ayato wanted to be like his father. Always there to protect and care for his people. His original plan was for him to be beside Ayaka the entire time during their visit, but Ayaka stated that she at least wanted to try to handle the problem herself seeing it as stretching her horizons. So they made a compromise. Ayato would assist if needed and if he felt at any point she could handle it herself he would return to the estate. They have been so gracious in being transparent with the situation, a sign of great Kamisato leaders. Ayato and you had a weird relationship. At first it did not seem like he trusted you. After a certain dinner with your blue haired lord. The trust grew as he put an important secret on your shoulders.  You helped Ayato get ready for his trip. 

As you were folding his clothes. He entered his room. You quickly bowed upon catching the sight of his presence. “Greetings (name), I have come to speak with you. ” You quickly straighten yourself. “(Name) I am sure you have recognised that it has been a while since I have left my estate. Could you reckon why that is?” He spoke. You thought long and hard staring at the ceiling as if the answer was written on his beautiful paper lamp that hung above the two of you. He followed your gaze briefly admiring the great craftsmanship of the lamp. You broke the silence “I am sorry my lord i could not form a fitting reason behind your lack of absence.” And there it was. His familiar smile. The tension in the room shifted; it felt comfortable like the infamous dinner the two of you shared. “The motive is that now I feel like I can trust someone to a similar amount as I do to my loyal Thoma.” You return a smile of your own. “That's great to hear my lord”. 

He stared into your eyes “That is why I have made my decision in leaving Thoma and you of taking care of my beloved estate for me”. He took a brief pause, as you felt the tension in the room shift once more. His eyes darkened. “See this as a trial of sorts (name).” Ayato advanced closer into your space. And like a whisper in the wind he spoke. “After all it's not like you would do anything devious, would you?”. You felt a shiver run down your spine. You were about to say “Of course not my-”.  “Oh, am I interrupting something?”. You felt a wave of relief as you spotted your green eyed love standing with a flushed face in the doorway. “Ah Thoma, I am glad you are here,” Ayato stated. “(name) do you mind?” You quickly gave permission. Ayato turned to Thoma “Here” you saw Ayato grabbing something from his Marry Poppins-esque sleeve. “I have just told (name) here that you two will be administering the estate in my absence. Thoma spoke, “Of course my lord, I will promise that the estate will be in peak condition before your return.” Ayato smiled “Of course”. 

When the Kamisato duo left, Thoma learned a lot. He mastered the art to manage the estate to perfection.  Thoma felt so much more at ease when showing affection since the absence of the leader of the Yashiro commission's watchful eye.  The whole day your gaze lingered on his frame. The hard work evident by the sweat and blood flowing through and across his body. Your eyes often shift on his lightly calloused hands. Which had an endearing softness to them. You often imagine how his hands would make you cream and scream, while he kissed you softly. You were definitely not the only one with impure thoughts. After all his eyes were (respectfully) undressing you every chance he got. The sexual tension was clear as day.

You two had only one task before the arrival: to clean the young lord's room. You were struggling with the soft silk sheets of Ayato's bed. “Need help with that, my love?” You suddenly felt him press his body on your back. A soft warm hand traced the inside of your thighs. Most likely warmed up by the use of his vision. God, he knew how to make you weak in the knees. You let out a soft whimper. Thoma put his hand delicately over your eyes “I wish to ravish you my love~”. You couldn't hold in a sharp inhale. “My deepest and darkest fantasy is to mark you here as mine. I want to leave our lord's room in a mess of our loving release”  He uttered the words with laced arousal yet with such love and kindness. He wandered close to your clothed sex, swirling his fingers around your growing desire. You had to hold back from letting out a moan. Your mouth unconsciously opened. Thoma gently licked the growing trail of saliva that dripped from your mouth. Thoma tasted a lingering sweetness from the strawberries you shared the same day. He was really testing your limits.  

He softly twirled you around and turned himself towards the bed. While finally fixing the sheets, you went to the door checking if there was anyone there. “Huh i guess Ayato will stay with Ayaka after all” you thought to yourself. “Hey look at that!”. You saw Thoma’s hand pointing at the sky. “What are you talking ab- AH! '' he suddenly picked you up, and softly placed you on the bed.  “I can understand that this is quite the risk” Thoma hovered above you. “May I make love to you?”. You paused and thought to yourself, “What if Ayato is back early? God, what if I will lose my residence here as a result?”. Fuck it. You looked Thoma in the eye. 

“Please make love to me”. That was all the permission that Thoma needed. He started softly kissing you while his hands slowly undressed you. When he went to kiss your neck you went and undressed him in return. Sometimes a moan would slip the more he would suck on the sensitive skin. He pressed his warm hand on your naked sex and nibbled on your ear. Your sex throbbing in response. Thoma slowly kissed and left bite marks on your body while he played with your sex. He slid his fingers up and down reveling in the fact you were so horny for him already. He lowered himself and started gently licking your thighs. 

Your body was gently flipped over “May I put it in?”. He came closer to your nape “please” , his warm breath fanned across your back. You desperately gave him permission. He teased your entrance with his hard leaking cock. Already aroused from the fact you were doing it on the bed of the very lord he would trust his life too. He slowly slid it in. He whimpered at the feeling of your gummy walls wrapping around him.

He started slow but hard. “Thoma, could you go a bit faster please?” “Of course, anything for you”. He said with so much love in his words. He started to quicken his pace “Is that better sweetheart?”. You moaned loudly at the feeling of Thoma roughly rearranging your insides. “I see that as a yes ah- fuck~”.  Thoma and you were left a moaning mess. Thoma quickly found your sweet spot. Which quickly made your climax slowly arrived for the both of you.

Thoma’s movements were suddenly brought to a halt. As soon as you wanted to ask what happened you looked up. “Fuck”. Ayato's form stood in the doorway. His smile was a clear hint that he did not just start seeing the scene a moment ago. “How dare the two of you do such indecent things within my private chambers.” Ayato said condescendingly. Your face left in a shocked state

 “Well, do you want to feel your punishment now?”

“I’m sorry my lord!~” you yelled, Thoma moaned in your body’s reaction. You gave him a delicious squeeze around him. As he let out a loud moan. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of Thomas' pulsating cock. The embarrassment mixed with pleasure made your heartbeat increase ten fold. “How dare my cute little servant be so desperate?” He calmly walked behind Thoma who was still left in shock by the sudden entrance of Ayato. The lord ripped Thoma off of you which left you a pathetic whining mess. At the feeling of emptiness.

“Last warning, are you sure that this is the way you want to deal with your punishment?” 

Thoma looked at you with pleading eyes. He planned this didn't he? Ayato and you really did share a possession in his heart. “Yes sir”.

“Calm down now my sweet loyal pet.” He tilted your sweaty face towards him by your neck. “I just want to teach the two of you a lesson” I want you to beg for your release. I know your desire, my little servant ”. He pressed Thoma’ back onto the bed as his gloved hand hit the back of Thoma harshly. Thoma counting every slap. Wait, has he done this before?

“I and as for you” Ayato suddenly turned to you.  He lowered himself under the bed and grabbed blue colored cuffs. proceeding to dangle them before your eyes. “This will be merely the fraction of your punishment servant”. “Since it is your first time with me i'll be gentle..well as gentle as i can.”

He shoved your arms to the back of you and clicked the cuffs in place. Keeping eye contact as he did so. Quickly feeling the cold metal dig into your skin. Ayato started placing Thoma in front of you forcing you to look at eachother. He undressed himself. Ayato started pumping Thoma’s cock from his back. The other gloved hand went to grab the back of Thoma’s hair roughly. 

Thoma felt sorry yet, how you looked chuffed up. Was a beautiful sight he had never seen before. It made him feel things he never had before.

Right as he was about to cum. Ayato penetrated him. Pushing his face to your aroused sex. “Help them out peasant” Thoma  pleasured you with his mouth. His hands on the headboard so as to not crash into your sex. His moans vibrated your sex. You let out a moan looking up to see that Ayato was already looking right at you. Greeting you with a slightly cocky smile. Ayato suddenly sped up while keeping direct eye contact. The blonde came quickly, the flow of your sour taste motivating him to continue. Ayato grunted. Your vision began to blur. Ayato and your climax arrived at the same time. “Good job Thoma” Ayato firmly pushed Thoma to the side and scooped some of his servants release in his hand. 

 “Clean this up” Ayato said as he held his hand out to you. “Beg for it like the good toy you are”. He bore a hole through you with his stare and words. “If you are good maybe you will get to cum for me again”. “Please sir” you proceeded to open your mouth wide. “Very good” Ayato slowly dripped some of Thoma’s essence on your tongue. As you licked his hands clean he suddenly shoved his fingers deeper in your throat. 

“Such a pretty servant, such a shame that Thoma didn’t share you with me .”.  “How selfish” he quietly spoke looking at Thoma’s lust filled eyes. The blonde had no idea how to react to the scene in front of him. He felt so bad for enjoying it. 

Pleasuring his love and seeing his proper lord covered in sweat and making him beg was all he could ever want. You took in a handful of Thoma’s release “You are doing so well my pet” 

Ayato gives you a gentle scratch on your head. He finally uncuffed you. 

Ayato placed your back on his stomach. “Thoma come get your reward” he beckoned Thoma with his finger.  Thoma happily scooted in front of you patiently waiting for Ayato’s approval. The young lord  started feeling your naked body up. Putting his arms under your legs to give Thoma the access he needed.  Thoma slowly slid it in and started thrusting in you. “Thoma look at me”. He looked up at his lord. His eyes darkened as if he said that you were his, with just a mere gaze. Ayato pinched your nipples while looking him right in the eye. Ayato gently placed a hand on your throat. Thoma roughly sped up his trusts, feeling the anger of his jealousy flow through him. Ayato placed his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth open. Making sure your obscene moans and cries were heard. Praising Thoma in between moans.

You couldn't help but think how many people heard the two of you by now.

All the gossip around Thoma was already a lot but now this was definitely adding fuel to the fire. Ayato sat up a little and firmly pressed his hands on Thoma’s hips forcing Thoma’s cock out of you. Thoma’s head shot up to Ayato. “Beg my servants”.  “PLEASE LET ME CUM SIR!” he said with pleading eyes. ”Please let me cum my lord!” you whined. “Very good”. Ayato pulled Thoma’s hips towards you. Your vision began to blur, your orgasm blissfully arriving. He pressed Thoma deep inside you. His tip kissing your deepest part. Ayato muffled your moans with his hand, your eyes began watering from the overwhelming feeling. Thoma released fully in you. Thoma praised you for taking him so well when he came.

Thoma finally gasped for air, settling down from his release. He started softly massaging you as you slowly passed out on Ayato’s chest. 

“You two did very well servants” Ayato uttered, massaging your scalp while praising you softly. After you fell asleep, Thoma layed next to his lord. “I finally understand why you love them so much Thoma.” Ayato continued stroking your head softly. Thoma smiled as he drifted to sleep. Looking at your sleeping figure before closing his eyes. 

The morning light blinded you and your lord of you wait…TWO? You examined the bed once more and there was no Thoma to be found. Ayato was still asleep. You heard the door slide open and you shifted your head towards the door. In a sigh of relief. It was just your loving partner with a tray in his hand. Overcrowded with breakfast food and drinks.

He greeted you with a warm smile.

“Good morning my love”.

[leighsartworks216]

Friendship

The Host x gn!reader

Requested by ☀️ Anon:

“recently read all your host content and i adored it. could i request for a very enthusiastic writer gn reader trying to be friends with the host while he mostly gives distant answers until one day where prompts hurt comfort 28 and 27, where reader admits that host is their closest friend and that’s why they always come to pester him with writer ideas. thank you and remember to take care of yourself!”

27. “Would you pet my hair?”

28. “I just want to be close to someone for a little bit. Is that okay?”

I'm slowly catching up on requests. I've just been kinda out of it with everything that's going on but we'll get through it <3

Warnings: nothing story-wise but I do have a short blurb that shows what Host is writing and it is very violent and gore-y, but it's italicized so if you do not wish to read it you can skip over the italicized paragraph and still be good to go <3

Word Count: 1089

Masterlist

“Host! Host, listen to this!”

The ego suppressed a sigh as he sat back from his typewriter, abandoning his own work to listen to yours. This had become a common occurrence, against the Host’s will. Wilford had dropped the fact that he wrote onto you and now, as an aspiring writer yourself, you wouldn’t leave him alone. Hell, you even spent more time here than with Wilford, the man you worked for.

“The Host asks for Y/N to calm down before they read him their newest update.”

He could feel your presence in front of his desk, sense the way the air shifted as you inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times. Once he was satisfied you had calmed down enough, his head tilted forward, welcoming you to continue.

You weren’t a bad writer by any means. You had excellent dialogue, your plots were coherent and cohesive, your characters were well rounded - overall you simply lacked the confidence in yourself to finish any story and send it out to a publisher. And while he didn’t mind giving you feedback occasionally, this nearly daily event was beginning to drain his patience.

“So?” you probed, hopeful. “What did you think?”

He hm’d. “The Host thinks their dialogue feels clipped and unnatural, but they have improved at writing action.”

He could hear your smile in your voice as you thanked him and then ran off to god knows where in the manor. He hated that he felt such a way, but he was relieved when you left. His space was empty, quiet, and he could once again return back to his own writing.

-

Blood splattered against the walls, the ceiling, the door. Adam panted as he looked down at his crime. The body beneath him was too still, when just moments before it had been writhing and screaming and-

Knocking?

The Host was pulled from his typewriter, away from the gruesome novel he was writing, at the sound. He thought perhaps he had heard the sound coming from down the hall, but he was proven wrong when the sound echoed through his sparse room once more.

“The Host calls for the person at the door to enter.”

He listened with heightened senses as the door opened and shut. The padding of feet made their way to the front of his desk. A voice, all too familiar, but all too quiet, spoke.

“Hey, Host.” It was you, but you lacked your usual energy. You didn't come bursting in here with no regard to what he was doing or do the manners society upheld. “Would you, uhm.” It wasn’t like you to hem and haw as you spoke. He tilted his head, confused and concerned. “Would it be alright if I stayed here and worked?”

He found himself nodding before you had even finished. “The Host welcomes Y/N to use his space. He is confused, however, and asks why they wish to work here.”

“I just want to be close to someone for a little bit, and you’re, like, my only friend… Is that okay?”

You considered him a… friend? After how calloused and cold he had been. He found himself unable to speak as he processed this new information, nodding and gesturing you over to one of the armchairs that took up his room.

Suddenly, as he thought back to every interaction he had with you during your stay at the manor, he felt a deep seeded guilt take over his heart. He was business-like, and distant. He provided you with simple advice and then waited impatiently for you to leave. He had been nothing but rude and cruel to you, and yet…

“The Host asks what is bothering Y/N.” He wanted to apologize, but the words simply wouldn’t come out.

You sighed. “Nothing I shouldn’t be used to by now,” you reply. “Wilford is just being kinda mean. I messed up the scheduling on the show so now a guest that was supposed to be on tonight won’t be on until next week, and he’s not too happy about it.”

“The Host tells them not to think too hard on Wilford’s words, as he is able to travel through time and meet the guest sooner as he pleases.”

You chuckled, but it wasn’t as strong or pure as he would have liked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

There was silence for a while. He listened as you began typing on your own laptop, working on the story that you had so passionately been telling him about for weeks, all while he brushed you off. He wanted to go back to his own story, back to typing away at the keys of his horror. But when he raised his hands and set his fingertips back on the machine, his heart was weighed down once more.

He removed his hands and placed them back in his lap, turning his chair slightly to face your general direction. “The Host asks if there is something he can do to help you feel better.”

You stuttered and stammered, coming up with excuses to reject his offer. However, he simply sat there and patiently waited for you to give him something to do. He felt like he needed to help you. You may not have known of his rudeness, of how he’d been trying to stay distant so you would leave him alone, but he would know, and he wanted to make up for it however he could.

You sighed. “Would you… Would you pet my hair?”

“The Host would be happy to,” he assures you.

He stands from his desk chair and makes his way to the chair you sat in. It took a bit of maneuvering, but once you were sitting on a pillow on the floor with your head between his knees as he sat in the chair, he was finally able to fulfill your request.

It was awkward at first. You’d never been so close to the ego and it felt especially strange as he ran an uncertain hand over your hair. But slowly, you both got more comfortable. You relaxed more against him, resting your cheek against his knee as you began slowly making progress on your book. His fingers began slipping between the strands of your hair, easing through any tangles and knots, and lightly scratching at your scalp. He actually found himself enjoying the repetitive motions.

“Host?”

He hums to let you know he heard you.

“You’re a really good friend.”

“The Host appreciates their friendship, as well.”

[taegularities]

Hello lovely Rid 💕💕💕

I feel you a hundred percent on it being so heartbreaking to see so many content creators on here leaving or even just feeling discouraged from the lack of interaction.

It's been making me so sad for a while to see all of these amazing talented people not getting the love and appreciation they deserve.

And it might sound too self pitying but I genuinely wish I could be on here all day reblogging things, reading fanfic and leaving feedback. Sometimes I don't feel like I'm doing enough and I overthink the way I interact with content all the time. Like, I wish I could read more than one fic a day and be posting feedback more often too. And I wish I could interact with every author on here because everyone deserves so much love for the amazing things they create.

Anyway, I didn't want to make this about myself, but I have this on my mind constantly too and I wish I could help more.

If anyone is reading this and is too shy to interact with content on here, please please please consider doing it, because not only does it help the wonderful creators, but it's also extremely fun and the least we can do as people who are enjoying the fruits of their labour!

I love and appreciate everything you do, Rid, and also the fact that you're here still despite everything being so discouraging. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you're doing okay 💞💞💞

hey, love <3 everyone should read this ask. i want to tattoo it to my forehead.

i understand. i know some readers really try hard and it means the world to me/us. it's okay that you can't read everything, and you absolutely don't have to... you'd be an actual superhero, if you could. i think just the thought counts, too, and you do so so much already.

what i don't enjoy is just seeing likes. or knowing someone read my stuff but didn't reach out. it costs nothing, and writers do slave over those fics for ages while simultaneously handling their lives...

i'm just wondering — and that's a question to all silent readers: what can we do to make you interact? i know you're shy, but i wonder if we can make this space more welcoming to you... bc i really do promise that once we start talking, we'll have so much fun, as ivi said. and that goes for most blogs here!

just wanna clarify again that i'm more than happy with interaction on my blog! but this is more about the silence and loneliness, and so many people leaving. the community has changed, so let's make it fun again 🥺

[ravixen]

EEEEP AND FOR THE FIC WRITER ASK GAME !!! i apologize in advance if you’ve already answered some of these and i know i gave a lot bc there’s some good questions on there :O so u can choose whichever ones u want to answer :D

3, 18, 20/21 (whichever one or both), 28, 30, 39, and 44 💓

// fic writer ask game

hi, alex!! i'm drawing with friends so i will do the handwritten ask after, but here are the ones you asked for. there's too many good questions on this list! under the read more because this one's long:

3 - Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

tbh, not any that i can think of right now!! but there was one haikyuu blog (now deactivated) that really pushed me to reboot this blog in 2021 with a focus on reactions rather than fics.

18 - Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie?

ah...yeah, that one ot12 (ot11 now lmfao) exo series called we're the lucky ones that also included four OCs. i have so many snippets for scenes, character dynamics, love lines, multi-layer antagonists, rising stakes, etc. but the project is just too big for me. another one is a re-write of my namjoon fic frontlines, sidelines, headlines because i wrote as a self-indulgent thing at 16 years old. re-reading it made me realize that i had so many plot holes and no world building. another project that's too big.

20 - What’s your (21 - least) favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

not really part of the writing process, but the moment when you've been away from your writing for a while and then read it again! i guess this can be considered the editing process if you haven't posted yet. i reread my writing (bad habit of editing while writing) and get tired of it, so stepping back and seeing it with fresh eyes is so satisfying. least favorite...can i say the entire writing part LOL maybe when you have a scene in mind but have no idea how to get there!!

28 - How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

i don't :) fic writing is for me alone, so i do it whenever i feel like. no pressure to update or deadlines, except for that stressful fiction writing class that shattered my confidence. as for negative comments...yeah, i've gotten some. i get heated lol and then distract myself and ignore them. readers come and go - i gotta put myself first if i want to keep writing.

30 - Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

not kpop, sorry lol i have 4 writing blogs:

Someone in front of him whistles lowly. "Damn, you look like shit," the newcomer says, knocking the toes of his shoes with theirs.

Brick raises his head and squints into the sun, barely making out Buttercup's grimace once she catches sight of his expression. "Yeah?" he manages as she slides her shades onto her hair. "Thanks, I tried my best to look like you."

"Seems like you still got some bite, at least." She leans down to get a closer look, taking the chewed lollipop stick out of her mouth and pointing it towards his nose. "So who peed on your pancakes this morning?"

"Christ, you're where Boomer got that from?"

39 - answered here!

44 - Rant about something writing related.

to all the readers: pls interact!! does this count? i feel like i'm beating a dead horse since the topic's been discussed so much many times already, but i'm so ??? because like. sometimes my posts will get almost 100 likes, but so few reblogs? which means, if you're not online when i post or if you don't check my writing tag frequently, it's gone. reblogging helps so much with visibility by sharing my work with others throughout the day or at different times. this when paired with a lack of feedback overall, whether that be in the tags/reblogs, comments, or my ask box...i've been refocusing on my anime writing for feedback lol i have lots of creative outlets, so i can move wherever: writing for various fandoms, drawing, and singing.

[thefanficmonster]

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days. 

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

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[retrievablememories]

tokyo 2112 | baekhyun (m)

title: tokyo 2112 pairing: rich guy!baekhyun x reader genre: sci-fi/cyberpunk au, enemies to lovers, angst, non-explicit smut request: “hi, how are you? 💕 could i request some cyberpunk x baekhyun fic? i have in mind Tokyo, neon lights and explosive lovers. please feel free to choose the amount you want to write or you can. and thanks! ✨” word count: 12.8k warnings: body modifications/prosthetics, attempted robbery, physical violence (not between bh x reader, though reader does think about fighting him 💀), blood, non-graphic wounds, mentions of sex/one non-explicit sex scene, mentions of a car accident, frequent alcohol use/unhealthy reliance on alcohol, smoking, mentions of classism/poverty, mentions of experimentation, surgery is performed on the reader but not described, one mention of being weighed on a scale-like device a/n: this is my first real, lengthy attempt at enemies2lovers (or maybe just the genre “reader’s an a-hole who makes a lot of assumptions”) because i’m a clown and like to challenge myself for no reason...and this is why i don’t fool with this particular romance genre 💀 feedback is appreciated, this fic is just a whole lot of me experimentally punching above my weight and i’m a bit undecided on my feelings about it

also, i imagined the reader’s arm with a similar structure to the winter soldier’s, for reference

Tokyo, year 2112

You meet him in a Lower Tokyo club, the neon lights bleeding into each other and creating a deep, vivid landscape. It’s an unnaturally pretty scene—unnatural like everyone and everything else inside this club.

There’s a look of subdued wonder on his face, which makes you roll your eyes. He’s all made up and way too pretty to be in this dingy club with his gaudy piercings and expensive rings. Still, he enters the building in all his affluent glory, standing out against the crowd of gritty and cobbled-together androids and half-humans.

He’s a rich man’s son and an even richer man’s grandson. He’s known for being attractive, intelligent, and ridiculously rich—and that’s about all you know of the man himself. Him and his family have been excellent at keeping their personal lives air-tight, only ever letting the public know what they want everyone to know. But ultimately, they are only human. You know they cannot be as perfect as they try to maintain, and you can only imagine the unsavory things in their family history that go much deeper than anyone could ever think up.

“Do you think he wears all that to make up for the lack of enhancements?” Your friend Valor asks. He’s gesturing specifically to the man’s lip piercing and the chains hanging off of it, attached to the collar of his shirt. It’s a little strange, but it’s a signature look for him, and certainly not one of the weirder things in here.

“I’d like to rip it right out,” you reply in lieu of an actual answer to Valor’s question.

The man appears misplaced—like a researcher conducting a study of alien beings rather than a regular club goer—though he doesn’t seem to mind this. He just observes everything around him.

Valor chuckles and shakes his head at the display, throwing back another shot. “Weird.”

“Hm. Come on.” You steer Valor in the other direction, looking to get away from the man before he can get near your area of the club. Though this is your first time being in such close quarters with Byun Baekhyun despite his popularity across Tokyo, you’d like to cut things short if at all possible.

Another hour passes, and the drinks keep flowing. Your mind has gotten pleasantly hazy by now, almost enough to make you forget about the trespasser in your club scene. Almost.

You, Valor, and three other familiar faces sit at a small table near the back of the club. One of the guys is recounting some run-in he had the other week with the Droid Commission, though you can barely hear over the music that’s only getting louder, so you just nod and pretend to understand. However, he suddenly falters in his tale and his eyes dart up to a spot above your head. Turning back, you see that he is standing just over your shoulder. Without thinking, you recoil.

Baekhyun slides from behind you and comes to stand in front of you all now, a strangely convivial smile on his face. He acts like he’s merely visiting you all at brunch instead of standing in a club in the roughest part of the city.

“Exquisite work here,” he says, though his words drown in all the noise. None of you know what he’s saying, or who he’s saying it to. Noticing the acute confusion, Baekhyun lowers himself to your level, his scent passing across your nose as he does. Some robust and fancy cologne you don’t know the name of. Your eyebrows furrow at his proximity, and your blood rushes; maybe out of anger, or maybe just from being drunk. Then he touches your left shoulder, right where the metal of your arm connects to your living flesh.

Yeah, definitely anger.

“I said, this work is exquisite. Quite fascinating, really. Who made it?” Baekhyun has to get fairly close to your ear for you to hear him above the commotion, and you can feel the heat of his mouth next to your skin. His eyes travel the length of your arm, which is fully exposed in your tank top. His voice is irritatingly smooth, and the chains of his lip ring lightly brush your shoulder when he pulls back after he finishes speaking. Though your arm may be made of metal, it still has artificial sensory “nerves” running through it that connect it to the rest of your nervous system—and right now, they are screaming from that slight touch.

Maybe you really are just too damn drunk.

You look into Baekhyun’s dark eyes, which are imploring, coy, and playful all at once. The others at your table watch this interaction as if suspended in time, probably trying to process the sheer nerve of this dude.

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, and brush him off your shoulder with your flesh hand.

He remains unoffended; he even looks entertained by your blunt rejection.

The man who was previously telling his story speaks up. “You heard her. Fuck off, pretty boy.”

Baekhyun straightens up and nods, then reaches into his jacket. Two of the men leap to their feet, thinking he’s about to pull out a weapon—which would not be the first or last occurrence in this club—but he only brings out a business card, tucked between two of his fingers.

“Ever vigilant, aren’t you?” Baekhyun says, laying the card on the small tabletop. Then he directs his next sentence to you. “If you decide you feel like telling me more...get in touch.”

Then he disappears back into the mass of moving bodies just as quickly as he came. You flex the fingers on your metal hand, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Both men at your table sit back down, although they’re still a bit disgruntled. Valor picks up the card to inspect it. “You gonna call that weirdo?”

“Please. You know me better than that by now.” You pluck the card from his hand and rip it up without a second thought. However, it takes a little longer to forget about the heated imprint of Baekhyun’s fingers on your shoulder, or his whispering voice fluttering against your eardrum.

Getting the arm was merely an act of survival, the way you saw it.

Money was low and jobs were scarce—ones that weren’t dangerous, straight-up unappealing, or low pay. There had been a scientific research trial for a new cybernetics program, and it paid much better than many other opportunities around—enough to live on for at least a year, give or take, especially with the cheaper cost of living in your area. You’d been terrified about giving up a part of your body, thinking your body might reject the foreign technology and kill you for the offense, but your desperation outweighed the fear.

Thankfully, it worked.

That was nearly two years ago, though, and the trial was long over. Even with you spending as frugally as you possibly could, the money was close to running out.

Odd jobs here and there help you out some, but they are few and far between and don’t pay nearly enough to make a living on.

You’re getting increasingly anxious about the lack of options and dwindling money, though you also spend half of your time getting drunk, hitting up the club, and simply trying not to acknowledge your crumbling life. If worst comes to worst, you can always think about finding another research trial and exchanging another body part. Maybe. These cybernetics programs often crop up more in Osaka, which would require you to leave the city, but maybe you could get another gig and scrape up enough money for travel...

For now, however, you are back at the club’s familiar bar and making small talk with the bartender, who’s an android without a real name or identity. Everyone just knows it as T-4000, though it appears to be fine with its little niche in the world. Sometimes it teases you about your arm and wonders when you will make a complete transformation into a “metalhead” like itself. Though you cringe, the company is better than nothing when the others aren’t around, so you allow the jokes.

Alone at the bar, you’re too preoccupied with staring into your drink to register the body sliding onto the bar stool next to yours until you hear The Voice flowing out again.

“One Blue Lagoon, please.”

Oh, fuck. You put your head in one hand and angle your body away from his in hopes that he doesn’t notice it’s you. But just as your fortune turns out, he happens to be facing your metal arm.

“Oh, it’s you again.” Baekhyun sounds pleased to see you, like this is some great unexpected coincidence, though you know that’s not likely true. You lift your drink to your mouth and pretend you don’t hear him, though that doesn’t deter him. “I never did hear back from you. How sad.”

“I have no desire to talk to you or anyone like you,” you say, still with your head turned.

“Anyone like me?” He chuckles.

“You don’t belong here, in case you didn't notice.”

“By whose definition?”

“Everyone’s,” you retort. T-4000 comes back with Baekhyun’s drink, and it gives you a look of bright amusement and curiosity with its digital-screen face as it rolls away to help another customer.

“I don’t concern myself with ‘everyone’s’ opinions,” Baekhyun replies, drinking from his glass. “Just the ones who matter.”

“Right, like your rich friends,” you scoff. “Why the hell are you even here?” You turn to him then, though looking at him feels like a mistake—like staring into a solar eclipse. He’s still wearing his chains, like always, and his eyes are smoked out with dark shades of eyeliner. The makeup makes him look eternally tired, but in some high-fashion model way.

“Because I don’t like being around my so-called ‘rich friends’ any more than you would.” Baekhyun smirks.

“So sorry.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe you should become a hermit, then.”

“You seem to be doing a good job of that right now. Where’s your friends from last time?” He looks around as if they’ll materialize.

“None of your business.”

Baekhyun leans on the bar counter, placing his arms on top of it, and his cologne hits you again. You try to hold your breath against the scent, though you can almost taste it in the back of your mouth. Shaking your head, you peer directly into his eyes now, which are as exceedingly curious as the last time. They’re still inky dark under this lighting, reminding you of black holes that absorb all light and life.

“Is it bad for me to want to know more about your arm?”

“Like I just said, it’s frankly none of your business.” You cast a forlorn glance at your drink, which has gotten dangerously low.

“Fair enough.” He sips again. “Now. What if I want to know about you?”

The back of your neck flares with heat, though you can’t fathom why. “You must be truly bored if that’s what you came here for. Unfortunately, you aren’t as interesting as you seem to think you are.”

“You injure me.” But you both know he’s not hurt at all by anything you can think of to say to him. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you.”

“What about me? How you want to steal my arm and use it for scrap metal, maybe? Or to build yourself a body mod, even? You really stand out in here being the only one who’s not partway made of tin or some shit, and it makes people distrust you. You can figure that out, right?”

“You make a lot of assumptions.” Baekhyun swirls his drink around in his glass, the blue liquid swishing around the sides. “Let me make some, then. You seem like a mysterious, closed-off, and perpetually discontented person. And despite what you might think, it’s not my first time seeing you around. I guess I can’t interest you in entertaining my presence just for company’s sake?”

You pause, wondering where Baekhyun could have possibly spotted you. You don’t hang out in any of the places someone of his standing would usually be seen in. But then again, does he even frequent those areas of Upper Tokyo? He’s always spending his time mingling in Lower Tokyo’s notable haunts instead. “...Are you some kind of peeping tom or something equally pathetic?”

T-4000 perks up at that, even from its distance on the other side of the bar, and it scoots a little closer as if it’ll need to call the Droid Commission in another minute. Which, in actuality, is a terrible idea—calling on one of the city’s many vigilantes would have a more effective outcome, if need be, but sending them for Baekhyun of all people might land you all in prison.

“Tokyo is big,” Baekhyun deadpans, like it’s something even a baby would know. “You can see anyone anywhere.” Then his voice melts back into its normal suave tone. “I’ve noticed you in passing, once or twice. Your arm is something special, but it’s hard to forget a person like you.”

Despite yourself, you don’t totally hate the comment. That alone makes you want to leave the club and not look back for at least the next month or so, knowing he’s probably said this to dozens of other people before. You stay in your seat, though, trying to see what easy line this man is going to throw out next.

“I wonder why I’ve never noticed you, then.”

“You seem to be too consumed with your own problems half the time, even though I don’t know what those are. The stress is written all over your face, though.”

Can never miss a chance to be insufferable, it seems.

“Okay Mr. Psychoanalyst.” You knock back the tiny bit of drink left in your glass and push it away from you. You shake your head at the android when it gestures for a refill.

“Not a psychoanalyst, you’re just achingly easy to decipher.” His tone is casual, like this isn’t meant to be an insult, though you take offense anyway.

“You’re not very good at whatever this is,” you say.

“What do you think this is? Flirting? Maybe you wouldn’t be wrong there.” He laughs.

“Yeah, well. Get some more practice and then maybe you can convince some other poor sap to get to know you better and sign over the rights to their cybernetics, but I won’t be falling for it.”

“I guess that means I’ll just have to try harder, then.” And then he finishes his drink, too. “Not the stealing your arm bit, but the getting to know you part.” He pauses for another moment, and then says, “It’s easy to become enamored with this place.” He waves his hand around at the club’s surroundings. “Expect to see me around more often. I think I’ve already taken a liking to you.”

Baekhyun tips his empty glass to you and gets up from his stool. His cologne swirls around you as he leaves, not overpowering, but enough to make its mark on your olfactory memories. You don’t look back to see where he walks off to, too busy trying to ignore the small headache building behind your eyes and your elevated heart rate.

He’s already taken a liking to you. Why would a ridiculous comment like that even get to you?

God. You really need to get laid.

So, you do just that.

Not with Baekhyun, but with someone from the club whose name you don’t even remember before it’s even over. It was painfully uneventful sex, and it did nothing to banish the man from your mind, which makes you feel even more irritated.

Walking back to your tiny apartment afterwards feels like a certified Walk of Shame even though it’s late at night and no one really cares to notice you. You spit on the sidewalk as if that could properly convey your disgust. You think of Osaka again—and what the fuck are you going to do to even get the money to get there?—and of the business card that you’d ripped up without remorse.

You shake your head, sending that thought back to the depths of your mind. Nevermind. That doesn’t matter. What could he possibly have for you, and why would you want it? Tucking your hands tighter in your pockets, you keep your head down and remain inconspicuous until you get back to the not-so-welcome sight of your own place.

You, Valor, and a few others sit around a makeshift bonfire at Tokyo’s Rainbow Bridge—or what remains of it, anyway, with weeds and tall grass sprouting up in the space that was once its parking lot. For the past hour, this impromptu hangout been nothing but smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap alcohol and shooting the breeze. The nights are always much colder than the days, the chill biting into your skin and seeping into your clothes, but you try to ignore it and huddle closer to the fire. Maybe there is something, anything else you could be doing other than this, but you are just a bit too weak—and a little too lonely—to say no to the companionship. Even if it means listening to the uninteresting conversations of men who you barely know outside of the club or without a bottle of whiskey in their hands.

Your hangout session remains sleepy and boring for a while until someone makes a suggestion. One of them keeps going on about some steady, reliable work he’s supposedly found from a trusted friend, though he refuses to elaborate on what kind of work it is when asked. You make a sound of disgust and tune him out. Useless suggestions are as bad as none at all.

“Maybe we oughta rob that Baekhyun dude.”

You look up from the flames, fixing your eyes on the one who said it—a man called Lockjaw—and someone else chuckles in disbelief.

“You serious?” Valor asks.

Lockjaw sits forward in his ratty lawn chair, and with the way the light hits his face, it’s easier to see how his bottom jaw and teeth are completely metal. It makes you wince internally every time you see him, though you always feel kinda bad afterwards. That must’ve hurt exponentially worse than your own procedure. “Why the fuck not? He struts around Lower Tokyo like he has it all...and the bastard does. We sit and grovel for scraps, yet there’s a walking goldmine right in front of us.”

The idea of taking Baekhyun’s riches had never quite appealed to you or fully manifested in your mind. You didn’t want anything belonging to him, mostly because of your own disdain towards the man. However, the suggestion appears in sharp relief now, so obvious that it’s hard to believe no one else proposed it until now. You don’t immediately respond to this concept being thrown around, but something uneasy settles in your chest.

Valor sits back with a mildly disinterested look. “And you think someone like him doesn’t have major security hanging around waiting to incinerate someone with a ray gun if they tried it?”

“Do you ever see anyone hanging around him?”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not there. Somewhere.”

“Then we’ll be strapped up,” Lockjaw says, throwing his hands in the air. “And any of his little ‘security team’ who tries it will be blown into the stratosphere. That’s how we take care of that.” You shake your head only slightly, a movement not noticeable enough to be picked up by the others. You rub your tongue against the inside of your cheek, picturing all the ways this plan could go belly-up. To your irritation, Valor decides to drag you into the fold despite your efforts to stay out of the conversation.

“What do ya think, Y/N? Baekhyun’s been on your tail lately, maybe you could help lure him in.” That stirs up several murmurs and targeted stares in your direction.

“Yeah?” Lockjaw leans forward even more, his ass nearly slipping off the edge of the chair. “Think you can get in good with him?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Uh...it’s not like I’m buddy-buddy with him—”

“You don’t need to be, just tell him to bring his ass here and we’ll do the rest.”

Your mouth tightens. With all eyes trained on you, some expressions less friendly than others, it feels impossible to refuse. “I guess.”

“It’ll provide the money you’ve been worrying over for the past year.” Valor offers, and you shoot him a side-eye. Not like you needed him to broadcast your business to the world.

“That’s how life around here works,” another man chimes in, putting his cigarette out on the dirt and getting off his makeshift stoop of an upturned bucket. He stretches his arms and legs, and though you can’t see them under his long pants, you can hear the soft whirring and clicking of his metal legs. “Eat or be eaten. I’ve made my choice.”

Lockjaw gives a wolfish smile. Your apprehension rises, though you say nothing. “Eat, we will.”

You try to act nonchalant the next time you see Baekhyun at the club. You only notice him as you’re leaving, having already waited most of the night to see if he’d show up this time. You slow to a stop as you spot him in the alleyway behind the club, speaking to another club-goer—you’ve seen the person around before. You can only imagine what they were talking about before you’d interrupted their little scene, and the person scurries off, perhaps somewhat reluctantly, once it’s clear they’ve lost Baekhyun’s attention. Maybe that was the poor sap he’d finally found who’d be misguided enough to give up their cybernetics.

Baekhyun approaches you with a smile, his chains catching in the light of the flashy neon sign above. The kohl is dark and smoky around his eyes, in perfect sameness with every other time you’ve seen him.

“Hello, one who’s name I still don’t know—”

“You should come see me,” you interrupt. You want this to be as quick as possible, not wanting to dwell on any fake niceties.

Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow. “See you? At...your place, or—”

“At the ruins of Rainbow Bridge. Thursday night, around 9. Unless you’re too busy doing rich people stuff.”

“Rainbow Bridge…” He draws the words slowly across his tongue. Probably thinking of what a ruin the bridge is now—and has been for the past few decades—and wondering why you’re asking him to meet there of all places.

“I have a friend who lives around there—no fucking place to stay, you know, just holes up wherever he can. But he can...let you see the inner workings of my arm. Pick him up, take him back to your place; I’m sure you have a lab.” And because you know what he’s really looking for, you throw in, “He’s studied the technology, knows it inside-out. He could help you build...whatever it is you want.”

Baekhyun’s eyes, which you normally perceive as two lightless voids, sparkle at that last part. You can practically see the light increase in them. “Oh really?”

You roll your own eyes. “Yes, really. I’m not going to let you walk off with my damn arm, but you can...take notes on the mechanisms and shit. It’s up to you. I just got tired of you fuckin’ asking, so don’t think this is going to turn into some weekly meetup or whatever.”

He nods, slowly at first, and then more assuredly. “Alright, then. I’ll come.”

“So...yeah.” A sudden wave of anxiety crashes over you now that the trap has been laid. You feel as if you make one wrong move now, it’ll blow everything. He’ll find out and hate you for it. But why should you care about him hating you? “Then...see ya Thursday. Bye.” You decide to make your exit, walking briskly past him in the alley.

“Leaving so soon?” Baekhyun asks, turning back to watch your figure retreat. You wave one hand behind you in a dismissive gesture.

“I’ve been here all fuckin’ night, Byun. I’m going home now—to get some sleep, if I’m lucky.”

He chuckles, the sound fading behind you as you walk away. “Sweet dreams.”

Your steps falter just slightly when those words leave his lips, and several emotions begin warring in your chest. You ignore them all and continue on your walk back to your place, though you almost wish you could turn back to the club and ask for another drink or three. Something to get your mind off that ridiculously simple phrase that’ll be spinning around in your mind all night.

The night of the plan, you begin having major second thoughts.

It’s not as if you didn’t already feel shitty about it, but your mind keeps racing with how ridiculous of an idea this really is. It’s far too late to talk anyone out of it, as they’ve already stocked up on contraband weapons and laid their gameplan, but you feel less and less “okay” about being a part of it.

Most of all, you feel increasingly guilty about using Baekhyun’s trust in you for this; he never seemed to assume you had any other motives behind your invitation. Even if it’s ridiculously, oddly naive of him to trust you—someone he knows nothing about—you don’t feel great about exploiting that for your own gains.

It takes him less time to show up than you’d hoped. He’s right there at the agreed time, annoyingly punctual, his sleek black luxury car pulling up in the dirt and patchy grass. It looks like it was cut out of a magazine and placed there—almost comically out of place. Just like him.

Baekhyun gets out of the car and walks out onto the grass to meet you, uncaring of the mud and dirt he’s stepping in. He smirks, his hands in his pockets and his chains dangling. “Would now be a good time to get your name, or are we in too deep at this point?”

There’s no one else but him. Definitely too trusting.

You nervously chew your lip as you mull that question over. If everything goes like the others intend it to, there won’t be a point in telling him your name. But if he’s still alive by the end of the night, you could be exposing yourself. Still...a name won’t matter either way if he can give a perfect description of you to the Droid Commission.

Suddenly, you decide not to give it any more thought. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N...” He says your name like he’s tasting a charming new food. “I like it. It suits you.”

Baekhyun’s smile is too sincere, and it doesn’t make you feel any better. “Come on.” You turn your back to him as you lead him through the tall grass and toward a broken section of the bridge’s main road. It leans against the main structure of the bridge and sticks halfway out of the muddy ditch that was once Tokyo Bay, its jagged edge reaching toward the night sky.

It’s darker under here, with the broken bridge blocking out the moon and stars and lights from buildings nearby. Your stomach rolls.

“So, who is this friend of yours?”

You turn to Baekhyun then, and you don’t know if he can read the anxiety on your face. Maybe he can. He’d proudly bragged about his own abilities for figuring people out.

It happens all at once, somehow slow and fast at the same time.

One of the men—the one with two metal legs—slinks out from behind the broken bridge and sneaks up behind Baekhyun, a stun spear in his hands. Its two large metal prongs are lit up with electricity. Those metal prongs are aimed directly at Baekhyun’s back, ready to make contact, but that never happens.

“Look out!” you scream, and shove Baekhyun out of the way. He stumbles off to the side, falling against the concrete bridge, and you wildly grasp the long spear with both hands, blocking the man from reaching Baekhyun.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Metal Legs shouts. He drives the spear’s metal bar forward, knocking it into your upper chest and collarbone with a force that makes your teeth chatter, and the pain and shock take your breath away for a few moments.

You’re not a fighter. You usually try to stay out of any ridiculous brawls when they do happen, whether at your apartment building or the club, but you do your best to hold the dude off. So even though you stumble back, you keep your hold as tight around the spear as you can and shove it back, putting your weight behind the movement and cracking it against the man’s chin. He howls with pain and anger and his hands momentarily loosen on the weapon. You take that opportunity to snatch it completely from him.

Nearby, Baekhyun is busy fending off Lockjaw with a long knife, both of them fully engaged in a fierce clash of blades. You feel a burst of surprise. He was armed this entire time? Had he realized something was suspicious after all? Most of all, how does he know how to fight?

You don’t have much more time to think about that, though. Metal Legs is recovering from the hit, his hand reaching for his side like he’s about to pull out his own knife or gun. You leap forward and shove the prongs of the stun spear into his ribs. He quickly collapses to the dirt, motionless after a handful of frightening convulsions. You feel cold fear at the idea that you might’ve just killed him, but you can’t dwell on that when you see the others bursting out of the tall grass a few yards away from you and Baekhyun. The backup, in case something went wrong—which it most definitely has.

Lockjaw has Baekhyun up against the concrete of the bridge, his knife near Baekhyun’s neck and Baekhyun trying to block the blade. The sharp metal inches increasingly closer to its target. With your legs shaking, you run up behind Lockjaw and dig the electrified prongs into his side, sending more volts through his body than you can imagine.

Lockjaw’s weapon drops, and Baekhyun stumbles away. The man takes a little longer to be knocked unconscious than Metal Legs, but you are relieved when he’s out a few seconds later.

You look at Baekhyun, who appears dazed and winded; you belatedly realize he might’ve received some of the shock too, with both men’s arms locked together when you initially used the spear. “Get out of here! The rest are coming—go!” A shot from a ray gun zips through the air between you two and burns the concrete of the bridge.

Baekhyun looks at you wordlessly. Then he grabs your wrist as tight as a vise. You glance at him questioningly, and your confusion mounts when he drags you along with him as he takes off towards his car. The red smearing across your hand and wrist tells you he must be bleeding from somewhere, and shock blooms in your chest for a wild moment.

The car door opens without him even touching the handle or speaking a command, and he jostles you into the backseat, trying to avoid the spear’s prongs; you’re still holding it tight, as you expected you’d need it to face the others—however futile that would’ve been. You’re so frazzled once you get in the car that it takes you a moment to realize Baekhyun is in the backseat with you. “What are you doing?!”

“Get on the highway,” Baekhyun speaks, ignoring your frantic question, and the engine roars in your ears as the car peels out of the grassy lot. The vehicle narrowly escapes another round of angry shots fired by the others, and the grass sizzles where the shots land.

A self-driving car. Of course he’d have one of those. You stare at the steering wheel as it turns on its own, maneuvering you both away from the scene of the crime and back onto the paved roads.

“Your arm…” You look at the sleeve of Baekhyun’s jacket. It’s torn now, and you can see the skin of his forearm underneath, which displays a long cut. Lucky for him, it’s not deep enough to need stitches. He has similar, smaller ones on his hands.

Baekhyun examines the wound and makes a sound of disgust. “It’ll be fine,” he says decisively. “The bastard wasn’t as good with a knife as he wishes he was.”

You nod silently, though the movement feels mechanical. As the reality of the situation seeps in, a whirlpool of dread forms in your stomach.

“Fuck, I-I’m fucked.”

Baekhyun gives a humorless laugh. “You’re fucked?”

“I’ll...need to lay low for a while.” Then you glance at him. “Unless you’re driving me to the Commission. Then, well…at least they can’t get to me while I’m in prison.” Your laugh is equally humorless.

“You’re going into hiding?” Baekhyun asks, and the corner of his mouth lifts. You don’t expect this reaction. Not after him almost being jacked and led into the situation by none other than you.

His smirk exasperates you. You almost want to roll your eyes at him not realizing why you’d need to hide. Or maybe he’s just playing coy about it; but you give him a break for now. “I ruined the plan and helped you out, so yeah, my own place is not gonna be safe anymore. ‘Friends’ are fleeting out here. Especially if you fuck with someone else’s money.” Valor crosses your mind, the only one you could really call a friend out of all the others—and only because you knew more secrets of his than they did. Your chest tightens with a strange guilt. You should’ve just said no from the beginning.

The car is quiet for a few long moments. Then Baekhyun shatters the silence with, “Come home with me, then. You can stay there for a little while.”

You bark out a laugh. “You can’t be for real.”

He sits back against the leather seat. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. It’s a waste of time otherwise.”

“After I just—could’ve gotten you killed?”

“I said it before—you’re like an open book. Your emotions are practically written on your face. It’s pretty damn obvious to me you were never truly up for this plan. Unfortunately, you aren’t the badass you think you are, but at least your efforts saved me.”

“But I still—”

“You certainly don’t have to take the offer if you don’t want it.”

You become quiet at that. Even if you don’t think you deserve this level of mercy, you don’t want to shun this offer of safety and be left to contend with the streets alone. Your voice is tense and quiet when you respond. “I’ll take it.”

Baekhyun’s home is a penthouse in the heart of Upper Tokyo, which doesn’t surprise you. The contrast in his neighborhood’s appearance with what you’re used to seeing in Lower Tokyo is stark and painful—spotlessly clean streets with sweepers continually traveling up and down them, bright holographic billboards, people walking around with personal androids accompanying them. You begin to feel resentful again, and you wish you could swallow those feelings after he’s been gracious enough to rescue you, but you can’t help it.

You two must make quite a sight once you pull into the apartment building’s parking garage—you holding a stun spear, wearing a slightly shabby outfit of a T-shirt, jeans, and jacket, and Baekhyun walking out with disheveled, torn clothes and bloody hands. Someone gets out of the parking garage elevator once the doors open, and they give a startled look when they see you two.

“Good to see you, Jongin,” Baekhyun greets the other man. His tone is friendly, but his expression dares the other man to ask any questions—which you both know he won’t.

“Good evening, Baekhyun.” The man gives a slight nod in your direction as he walks past you two, though there’s no hiding the distaste he thinks he’s disguising. His eyes linger on your metal hand, and you feel exposed; you try to convince yourself he’s just looking at the spear, which would also make sense.

You try to shake the feeling off as you and Baekhyun step into the elevator cabin, but confusion rushes over you to replace it. The floor of the elevator is more like a scale, sensing the weight of your bodies and sinking slightly further into the floor once you step onto it.

“What’s that all about?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah. That. This isn’t like your typical elevator, it’s a teleportation channel,” Baekhyun says this nonchalantly as he reaches for the touchscreen panel on the wall.

“Um, what? I don’t want to be teleported anywhere.” You jump right back out of the cabin before the doors can close, and Baekhyun gives you a weary look as he holds them open with one crimson hand.

“It’s safe, you don’t have to worry about anything. All it does is take the atoms in your body and replicate them elsewhere; the floor measures your mass. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

“You don’t say.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not interested in turning into ground meat on the other side of that thing.”

“There are no stairs in this building, just teleportation channels. If you want to climb the side of the building to get to my place, be my guest.” Baekhyun starts pressing on the panel as if he’ll leave you behind, and panic spikes in your chest. You decide to get back on with him, much to your displeasure.

You close your eyes tight just as the inside of the cabin starts glowing with light, and you can only hope your last lived experience won’t be riding a teleporter with Baekhyun in the same night you tried to mug him.

Surprisingly, the transportation doesn't feel like anything. One minute you’re there on the parking garage ground floor, and the next minute you hear the whoosh of the doors opening again. It’s like you never moved an inch, but you obviously have when the doors reveal the lavish interior of Baekhyun’s home.

Grateful to be at your destination, you step out of the teleporter as quickly as possible. “How did we end up right inside your place?”

“Clever, right? It uses fingerprint recognition so no one else can get access but me, but you’d know that if you hadn’t slammed your eyes shut.”

For all your talk of Baekhyun being out of place in Lower Tokyo, you suddenly feel like the fish out of water inside his penthouse. There’s metal and glass and holographic materials everywhere, which is the same stuff you’d find in Lower Tokyo, but here it’s all much more sleek, shiny, and well-maintained. His living room alone looks bigger than your entire apartment.

“Come on, don’t just stand there.” He gestures for you to follow him further down the hall, and you hesitantly do.

“Um...I don’t really want to carry this all night,” you say, referring to the stun spear still in your hands.

Baekhyun turns back to you, blocking the path to the rest of the hallway. “Do you even know how to turn it off?” It’s still charged with energy. You look at it up and down, but it isn’t immediately obvious to you. You don’t want to admit that, though, and keep awkwardly looking for some sort of Off switch until Baekhyun can’t stand the silence anymore. “Look, just give it to me.”

Your mouth twists at that. It seems nonsensical considering he’s just given you a safe haven, but you’re wary he’ll try to turn the weapon on you. Maybe he was waiting to get you alone and dispose of you himself. He appears to understand your thought process, because he scoffs loudly and holds his hand out for the spear.

“If I really wanted you dead, I could’ve done it in the car—or better yet, let your friends take care of you. Just hand it over.”

“Mm, I think not. I don’t think you’d want to get blood on your pretty leather seats.” Still, you give him the spear, if a bit reluctantly. You don’t know what he does with it, but he takes it into another room and tells you to wait in the hall. When he returns, it’s gone.

Baekhyun leads you to a clean and unoccupied guest room. It’s large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that give an expansive view of the city below. It’s also nicely decorated, much like one of Upper Tokyo’s many upscale hotels, but it seems like it hasn’t seen a warm body in months. There’s a certain lack of warmth to it. “Don’t get many visitors?”

“Now is not the best time to make jokes about me filling my perpetual loneliness with frequent trips to your club, if that’s what you’re attempting to lead up to.” He steps through another door, which you find out leads to the bathroom. “Everything you need should already be here—except clothes. I’ll get those in a moment.”

“Right,” you mumble, your eyes carefully tracing over everything in the bathroom. You know your skeptical behavior is probably pissing him off at this point, but distrust has long become an inherent feature of yours. You’ll keep this act up if you know it’ll get under his skin.

The hot water in this shower doesn’t run out after five minutes like the one back home. You can’t shake the old habit, though, and you wash yourself as quickly as you can, body tensed with adrenaline as you expectantly wait for the warm flow to stop after the five minutes are up. When that doesn’t happen, your muscles relax a little. Though it feels good, you don’t know if you’ll get used to this any time soon.

The clothes he lays out for you on the bed are plain and black, but still better quality than what you’re used to seeing and wearing. Soft on your skin. Smell good. You wonder where he’s went off to—maybe to wash up and patch up his wounds, if he has any sense. You also wonder if you should try exploring his place, but you feel like that’ll be risky; he has too much advanced technology around here that would probably find a way to kick you out of the penthouse window at the first sign of nefarious activity.

...Which is how you end up merely sitting on the bed and waiting to see what will happen next. But not before checking the entire room for any signs of surveillance tech or something else foreboding. This is also when you make the joyous discovery that your phone is missing, and you reason it must’ve fallen out of your pocket in the earlier clash; you know you had it when you first met up with Baekhyun. That pisses you off, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. Though you feel disconcertingly cut off from the outside world without it, who would you even contact anymore? One of the others, who’d probably try to track you down and enact a cold, hard revenge for you blowing up the plan? Lockjaw’s face flashes into your mind, along with the other scalding looks you received the night of the planning, and you shudder slightly.

When Baekhyun comes back to your room—and you’re almost surprised that he does—he looks significantly smaller in presence without his all-black clothes, glittering face chains, and heavy makeup.

Indeed, the man standing in front of you with damp hair, baggy pajamas, and bandaged hands doesn’t seem like the same suave person from the club at all.

“So now what?” you say, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. “Well, if you’re going to be living here, you need a tour.”

Living with Baekhyun isn’t quite what you expected it to be. He’s home more often than you’d think, for one. You would’ve thought he’d always be in business meetings or off somewhere finding more luxury goods to buy or just doing whatever. You can’t really get mad at him for being in his own home, but you try to keep space between the two of you. With your own designated spaces, it’s not hard to do this, which you are at least marginally glad about.

Trying to deal with Baekhyun while completely sober isn’t your idea of a walk in the park. Despite yourself, you wish you could go back to the club even once; Baekhyun certainly won’t let you drink up all his liquor, nor will he tell you where he’s hidden it. For your own good, he claims. Sure.

To your surprise and slight relief, he doesn’t ply you for any more details about your arm, though you’ve definitely caught him running his eyes across it more than once—studying it like words on a page. Whatever’s spinning around in that mind of his, you can only guess. His lingering interest only makes you think he’s scheming for a way to take the arm off you when you’re sleeping or equally vulnerable, though, so you remain guarded around him.

“One day, you’ll have to understand that I’m not the evil villain you think I am,” he tells you. He regards your attempts to avoid him with a certain bored amusement, like how one might think of a particularly entertaining pet cat.

You let the steam of the food you’re cooking billow up across your face, making your eyes water from the slightly-too-warm heat before answering. Leave it to him to bother you during one of the times when you can get some undisturbed, Baekhyun-free peace. “Maybe you should stop dressing up as one whenever you go out, then.”

He chuckles. “It’s like you’ve made it your personal mission to throw verbal stabs at me whenever possible.”

You shrug. “I have to do something to pass the time here.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You could do that just by having a normal conversation with me.”

You cross your arms, looking at him from where he stands at the kitchen island. He’s in his dressed-down form now, sans eyeliner and jewelry.

His kitchen is not like any other you’ve encountered, fully equipped with the capabilities to make every single one of his meals by itself—and order more ingredients whenever necessary. It’s undoubtedly convenient. But you often still like to make food of your own, just so you don’t have to feel so...dependent on him for every little thing. “About what?”

“About who you are. What you like. What you dream about—I don’t know, something.”

“What I dream about.” You make a noise of disbelief. “How can you waste time on dreams when you live the life I do? I just focus on trying to survive. That’s it.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth automatically like he’ll say something, but he pauses as if he’s just absorbed the full weight of your words. Suddenly, there’s a certain sadness pooling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth, and you hate it—intensely. You don’t want his pity or sympathy. And yet, he’s already given it to you by letting you live in his home.

“Before you say something pathetic, just don’t,” you blurt out, wanting to stop him before he can start. “You want to talk? My favorite color is green, and my favorite food—alcohol. I have an arm made of fucking titanium, the club was my main hangout spot, and I hate entitled people. Talk about that.”

Baekhyun’s sympathy evaporates into an unimpressed expression, lost just as quickly as a whisper on the wind. “Closing the door again, I see. Alright. Have it your way.” He leaves the room then, giving his back to you and shutting you out similar to how you just did to him.

This should be what you wanted. But it only makes you feel oddly unsatisfied.

“Here.” Baekhyun slides something across the table towards you after dinner one day—another dinner where you sit on opposite ends of the table and where you try to ignore his existence. You instantly recognize the small, glistening package as a cellphone, though it’s a model much more advanced than you could’ve afforded.

You look up at him as he stands in front of you, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his black pants. “...What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to communicate with so you don’t feel like some princess stuck in a glass castle.” You roll your eyes at that. “I’m not sure who you’d talk to since all your friends do hate you, but the thought counts. And everyone needs a phone.”

You sit forward to look at the phone in its packaging, tracing your metal fingers against the surface. The sensation circling around in your stomach is an odd one. “Please don’t tell me that you hosting me in your penthouse was just an easy way to get a sugar baby.”

Baekhyun looks slightly flustered at that accusation, and you’re gleefully, childishly pleased about taking him off guard. His surprise is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin, though. “It’s nothing like that; I could’ve already had that kind of arrangement 100 times over.” His tone suggests that he has, which sends a chill crawling up your spine. But maybe not 100 times over. “I did it to help you out. But if thinking of it that way gets you off, be my guest.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Byun,” you say, taking the phone out gingerly. It’s a lightweight thing, looking like it might dissolve if you look at it too hard. Its screen is clear raised glass—which you assume will project out the hologram technology this phone is inevitably equipped with—and has silver backing. It’s a piece of work. Though it appears fragile, you know it’s sturdier than that—or it wouldn’t be such a popular model as it is now. “It’s...nice, though.”

Baekhyun waves his hand noncommittally. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less—even if it’s for someone as eternally pissed-off as you.” You bite your lip against the rebuttal that wants to come rolling out, instead preoccupying yourself with figuring out the controls on this thing. Which takes an embarrassingly long moment. Baekhyun watches you for the duration of it, biting his own lip against the urge to laugh at the frustrated furrow between your brows and the crinkling of your nose. Really, the phone looks like a thin sheet of metal with a slice of glass over it; how are you supposed to operate this? Eventually, he says, “There’s a button on the bottom that activates it...you have to press that.”

“Right, clearly.” You try to rid yourself of your embarrassment as you turn the thing on, but even as Baekhyun leaves the room you can hear his chains clinking together as he laughs silently at your confusion.

As if your life could not get any more chaotic, your metal arm begins malfunctioning. 

The metal is not as flexible as it was just a few days before, and it gives you a hard time whenever you try to do simple maneuvers. Your arm is overtaken by a sensation that feels like nerve damage with how the entire limb and shoulder tingle and burn from wires that no longer want to do as they’re told. You’re not entirely sure what’s wrong with it—a good oiling could usually fix any stiffness when necessary, but this nervy feeling is new.

For a while, you try to hide it from Baekhyun, which feels kind of ridiculous even to you. You’re only hurting yourself more, but you are a little too prideful to give him the pleasure of inspecting your arm like he’d always wanted to from the start. You don’t want to be his science experiment.

However, it comes to a point when you must ask for help when your arm stops working entirely.

You wake up to this terrible realization. After another morning of having gotten only a little sleep the night before, something immediately feels wrong. Your arm is dead weight beside you. When you try to sit up, it doesn’t respond to your movements. You can only feel the painful tug on the flesh part of your shoulder where the weight of the metal pulls at it, and you groan in pain and annoyance.

You support your arm with your other hand to prevent the tugging, which quickly gets exhausting and annoying as you try to go through the morning motions. You can’t keep this up while washing, so by the time you get out of the shower, your shoulder is killing you from where the arm dangles.

When you get to the common room, Baekhyun isn’t there. He isn’t anywhere else in his penthouse, either. You don’t even know how long he’s been gone. When you bring yourself to finally call his number, you bitterly remember that you still don’t have it saved in your phone. You want to scream in irritation. You can’t leave to go look for him—yeah, right—or get help from anyone else, either, because of the fingerprint recognition on his apartment entrance. Now that you think about it, you are like a princess in a glass castle here. That reawakens another bout of anger in you. Safe haven or cage?

Baekhyun appears an hour or two later—you’re not totally certain, having refused to expend the strength to move from your current spot to check the time—wearing his usual getup. You don’t know if you should be relieved, but an emotion similar to that sweeps through you despite your lingering apprehension and dislike.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His eyebrows crease when he sees you splayed across his couch, your metal arm propped up on the couch back.

Don’t be combative, you think to yourself. But it’s like an impulse; you can’t stop yourself. “Why do you immediately assume something’s wrong?”

“You’ve never been so casual,” he gestures to your posture, “around me or in my place before, so I’m trying to figure out if your brain has been infected by cyber bugs or something. Because if we need to quarantine, then—”

“Well, you’re not totally wrong for once.” You struggle to sit up, your movements stiff, and your arm slides off the couch back and slumps limply to your side. Baekhyun's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline at that, and he looks at you questioningly, stepping closer to you.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Don’t even fucking know…it’s been feeling weird for a week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You look up at him, cynicism coloring your expression. “I’m sure you can take a wild guess.”

He gives the familiar sigh-and-eye-roll combo, like he’s done probably a hundred times since he’s met you. “Yeah, I can.” He waves his hand. “No matter. I’m calling Yosuke.”

“Who’s Yosuke?” You turn to watch Baekhyun retreat—probably to his bedroom or office. He turns back to you momentarily.

“Someone who can fix your arm.”

— 

Yosuke turns out to be a man around the same age as Baekhyun—a big contrast to the older, wizened cyberneticist you’d pictured in your mind. He and Baekhyun act overly familiar with each other, apparently being long-time friends since their younger years.

There is no difference in how he treats you and Baekhyun, which is another thing you didn’t quite expect. He is clearly wealthy like Baekhyun, coming in with a nice suit and expensive jewelry and a suitcase full of more tools than you’ve even seen before, but he doesn’t have the haughty rich man aura. That makes you feel a little more comfortable, and you are glad that Baekhyun let you have some privacy with this and left the lab for the actual procedure. Even if it meant he didn’t get his wish of poring over your arm’s wiring like some kind of cybernetics kinkster.

To your relief, the fix is simple enough. The implanted electrodes in your shoulder that help send signals between your brain’s neurons and the artificial nerves have failed, but those are relatively simple to replace.

“Shitty tech, I guess,” you mumble, casting a displeased look at your arm. You aren’t sure why, but you feel embarrassed about it failing on you. Maybe you just thought it’d be reliable forever. “I got it as part of an experimental research program, so it was probably never going to be the most dependable thing anyway…”

“Hm.” Yosuke smiles. “Maybe not, but it’s still an extraordinary piece of work—especially in this early form. Some of these mechanisms are new even to me. Was that the 2110 Tokyo trial, by chance?”

You nod, though you feel a tiny bit less relaxed with knowing that even Yosuke doesn’t recognize all the intricacies of your limb. Hopefully you’ll still walk out in one piece. “Yeah, the very one.”

“Excellent work,” he reiterates. “It was an early research trial, but still yielded some of the most functional and human-like large-scale cybernetics of the last few years. You could’ve done a lot worse. Maybe you already know that, though.”

“Maybe,” you repeat quietly, but you are mostly speaking to yourself now.

—

After the electrode replacement is done in Baekhyun’s home lab, you can finally feel your arm like normal again. Yosuke does a few sensory feedback and dexterity tests to make sure your arm can function as it should, and he promises to come back the next day for another round just to be sure.

You almost don’t want Yosuke to go when he finally does pack up to leave. It feels nice to be around someone who doesn’t inspire some wretched, nonsensical anger in you.

Baekhyun slips back into the lab after Yosuke leaves, and you glance up from your arm at his arrival. He looks at your bandaged shoulder and watches appreciatively as you flex your metal fingers. “All good now?”

“It’s fine,” you mumble. “Thanks.” Saying that word to him is not easy, but you relent, figuring you should at least give him that much. “You should be thanking the gods you don’t have to go through this kinda shit.”

“Really.” It’s not a question, the way he says it. It’s filled with sarcasm. Baekhyun reaches down and rolls up his left pant leg, his chains hanging as he does, and you recoil, confused. Why the fuck is he showing you his bare leg?

“It’s cybernetic,” he says, barely concealed pride in his voice. “You can’t even tell, the work is so good.” Something like jealousy and anger stirs in your chest. Even if you had wanted to tuck those emotions back in, they’ve escaped from the cage now and are intent on running rampant.

“So. Byun Baekhyun is part-metalhead, after all?” You slide off the surgical chair you were sitting in for Yosuke’s procedure, coming to stand a couple feet in front of Baekhyun. You look down at his leg—which, for all intents and purposes, looks like a completely flesh-and-blood limb. “You joker. Quit fuckin’ around.”

“It’s not a lie.” He knows you won’t believe him, so he taps a spot behind his ankle twice. A long, thin panel that stretches from just above his ankle to his upper thigh opens on his leg, exposing the wiring and metal within. You can’t school your expression in time, and your mouth drops. “Incredible, right? Custom-made. So, yes…I do have an idea what it’s like.”

“Custom-made, huh.” You bite your lip so hard you think it might bleed. “Unbelievable. You’re the kind of person who does these things because you want to, because you can, not because your survival hinges on it. You must truly think you’re special.” The words come hurtling past your lips like venom.

“I didn’t choose this on a whim,” Baekhyun argues, straightening up to face you and letting his pant leg back down. The look on his face says his patience has finally run out, presumably tired of you throwing insult after insult at him since you’ve been in his home. “You don’t know anything about me other than what you’ve seen and heard on screens and from others. I’ve tried to get familiar with you. You reject it at every turn.”

“I don’t want to ‘get familiar’ with someone who gets custom cybernetics that cost hundreds of thousands just because they fuckin’ felt like it, while the rest of us have to do it just to get enough money to live for maybe a year on.” You’re gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw feels like it might crack.

Baekhyun steps closer to you, diminishing the space between you further. His eyes burn with animosity. “I was in a car accident, Y/N. I was just a teenager. No one even knows this but the people closest to me, and I don’t want anyone else to know it. I lost my leg and nearly my life with it. Before you start preaching to me about choices versus survival, realize that you aren’t the only fucking person in the world who’s ever had to do what was needed to survive.”

Your breath catches. You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. Suddenly, all the fight drains from your system, and you are left feeling deflated and cold. His blazing eyes feel like two bullets trained on you, and your gaze falters.

Baekhyun doesn’t wait to see if you’ll have another response lined up for him; he turns heel and stalks out of the room.

As promised, Yosuke returns the next day for your additional tests. Your conversation with him isn’t as enjoyable as it could be. You are still reeling from Baekhyun’s revelation and unsure how to approach him. Neither of you spoke to each other for the rest of that night, instead choosing to actively avoid each other. You know you can’t keep this game up forever, though.

“Baekhyun’s in a sour mood today,” Yosuke remarks. “Rare for him. Any idea why?”

You shake your head, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. “Mmm...no.”

The slight smile on Yosuke’s face tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Well...I’m sure you two will figure it out sooner or later. He seems to have an affinity for you.”

“What?”

“He was pretty concerned when he contacted me about your arm. He’s mentioned you before then, too. He seems fascinated by you.”

You purse your lips together. You remember his days of annoying flirting in the club, which feel so far away now, and how he’d come to you with a bunch of flowery words and told you he’d taken a liking to you. Perhaps he was really telling the truth about that. You wonder if he possibly mentioned the attempted mugging to Yosuke, and you cough nervously.

“Well, he’s…” you wave your flesh hand, “...a character.”

Yosuke chuckles. “You two seem kind of fitting, I don’t know why. Similar love for recklessness, maybe—from how he describes you, anyway. Like peas in a pod.”

Fitting? Peas in a damn pod? The next words come thoughtlessly rushing out of you in an effort to change his mind and slap away whatever outlandish idea he has of you and the other man. “I don’t want Baekhyun.”

Yosuke raises an eyebrow, though he keeps his gaze on your arm as he watches the movements of your metallic fingers for any irregularities. “I never said you did, Y/N.”

In your haste, it occurs to you that maybe Yosuke really was just referring to your similarities—which you’ll continue to vehemently deny—rather than suggesting any deeper connection. Though that’s what it sounded like to you. Fuck. You don’t know anymore.

Is this what they’d call a Freudian slip, then? How wonderful. You rub your temples with your free hand and shake your head. “Then let’s just forget the last few minutes of this conversation.”

Yosuke smiles. “Whatever you’d like to do.”

—

Yosuke leaves soon after he’s finished testing your arm, but he reassures you that you can see each other again if you feel like having the company—just have Baekhyun arrange things.

Speaking of Baekhyun. You should probably say something to him. You’re not enthusiastic about puttering around his home feeling even more awkward than you did when you first arrived there. So, you walk to his office and knock on the door, turning your ear to it to see if he’ll give a response. You don’t have to wait to hear one, though, because the door panel slides back on its own.

You’ve never been in his office before, though you knew where it was—it was one of the places he decided not to show you on his little house tour—but it’s just as obnoxiously streamlined and full of tech as every other part of his home. Baekhyun sits behind his desk, elbows propped on its surface and fingers crossed together.

“Y/N.” His voice holds none of the playfulness, casualness, or even cool sarcasm you’ve heard from him before.

You step a few feet forward into his office. You feel like you’re standing underneath a spotlight, lit up for the entirety of the world to see. In reality, it’s just you and him here—Byun Baekhyun, one of the richest men in Japan.

He stays silent, presumably waiting for you to speak first. That is what you came here for, so you do, even if it makes you feel like you’re going to peel out of your skin.

“I was a dick. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun blinks. “An apology? From you? The world must be ending.”

“I’m trying to be serious here, Byun.” You sigh. “I was...wrong to assume what I did about you. I guess...I don’t really know anything about you...but. I felt like I had you all figured out already. So, I’m sorry.”

The tension in Baekhyun’s shoulders releases, if only a little. His expression shifts into something not quite as impenetrable as it was just a few moments ago, but not completely open, either. “Apology accepted, then.”

“Thanks.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “Well, I thought...if I’m not to make any more assumptions about you, I should probably get to know more about you?” 

Baekhyun looks interested now, and he releases his hands from their formerly tense position. He leans forward slightly. “Then I should do the same with you.”

Your hackles raise, despite you trying to keep yourself more open-minded. “I...don’t want to. You know enough already.”

Exasperated, Baekhyun spreads his hands out in front of him. “Here we go again. What are you so afraid of? And why even ask me about myself if you don’t want to share anything about you?”

“You can think of it as gathering intel—not making friends. I’m not asking you about your life story so we can have picnics together and talk about our wildest dreams.”

Baekhyun scoffs in disbelief. “When are you ever going to be honest with yourself? Emotional constipation isn’t a good look for you.”

“Honest with myself about what?”

“You are attracted to me. You are interested in me beyond supposedly gathering intel. And for some reason I can’t conceive, it enrages you.” The words come off his lips with the trace of a smirk, and though they make your skin prickle with heat, his smirk makes you want to jump across the desk and land one good punch on him.

You snort. “You’re a piece of work. Attracted to you? Everyone doesn’t throw themselves at the first person with a whiff of money or notoriety.”

Baekhyun gets up from his desk to step closer to you, much like he did the other day. He’s close enough for you to count the moles on his face, barely noticeable except for when he’s at this proximity. His cologne wraps its scented arms around you and pulls you in. You didn’t notice it as acutely yesterday, too embroiled in the argument and trying to process what he revealed to you, but now it hits you full on. How is this not considered some kind of olfactory warfare?

“Then tell me you don’t want me.” He whispers it to you in that same stupid, silky voice he’d always used in the club. That voice, combined with his scent, transports you straight back to that environment—the pungent taste of alcohol, the blinding neon lights, the ear-splitting music. And the one man who you just can’t figure out.

You open your mouth only slightly, afraid to breathe in more of his fragrance and lose yourself to it like a fool. “Fuck you.”

“That’s not an answer.” Baekhyun’s voice remains in the same low whisper, and he grins like he already knows the truth. “But I can do that, if you’d like.”

It doesn’t take much effort for him to close the rest of the space between you. When he kisses you, you don’t slap him, stomp on his foot, or knee him in the balls like you might’ve thought you would. Instead, you kiss him back—gradually, tentatively, but your lips fall into a rhythm with each other’s.

His lip piercing is unyielding on your skin; the edges of it press into your lip. The kiss is not rough or even frantic. You think this all might’ve been easier if it was—easier to allow yourself to keep hating him so intensely and channel that energy into your actions. However, all your previous thoughts of knocking his head off or pulling his lip ring off fall away; you just allow yourself to exist solely in this moment and absorb the feeling of his lips on yours.

Maybe now you could allow yourself to admit—internally, at least—that yes...you did want this. You wanted it from the first ridiculous time you met him in the club, and when he put his insolent hand on your shoulder. Whispered into your ear like he knew exactly what effect it was going to have.

Baekhyun’s bedroom—the one other place he hadn’t shown you besides his office—is neatly arranged and smells entirely like him. Other than those base things, you don’t care what the rest of the room is like. When you both somehow make it there, Baekhyun backs you up onto the bed, his lips still attached to yours.

The weight of his body is solid on yours. His tongue nudging against your lips and asking for entrance makes your body flush with heat. Before you can get fully invested, you pull away. He looks at you questioningly.

“Take this off,” you mutter, pushing his face chains away from you. He laughs lowly, pulling away from you to take his piercing out and put the chains away.

Pulling your clothes off comes naturally; it doesn’t feel clumsy and stilted like it did the last time you slept with someone. Baekhyun’s hands flit over every inch of newly exposed skin he can access.

The way Baekhyun touches your metal arm is reverent, worshipful, and you hadn’t realized how much you needed this—this kind of unabashed admiration—until it happened. No one has ever touched your metal arm in a way that wasn’t clinical or otherwise similarly detached. His fingers glide across it like it’s still made of skin and blood and bone, and he kisses the length of it, up to your neck and all the way back down to your metallic fingers again.

Water beads at the corners of your eyes. You try to ignore it. You don’t even acknowledge the few tears that do slip out, sliding towards your ears from your supine position.

Baekhyun lifts himself to be level with your face again. You turn away from him, too afraid to see whatever emotion will be lying in his eyes—not wanting to reveal the full magnitude of your vulnerability to him—but you don’t say a word when he presses his lips against the tear tracks on your skin.

Funnily, ironically, every motion comes instinctively. Him rocking against you, his heavy, dark breaths echoing in your ears, his long and low moans—your lips searching for his, your teeth creating blooming bruises on his skin. Though you have pushed him away and dismissed his proffered company at every opportunity, this intimacy feels like a grand coming-together—something that was bound to happen at the end of every road.

—

The sheets are twisted, the sweat is cooling on your skin, and you are both tired but satisfied. Content in a way that neither of you have truly been in a long time. You rest your head on Baekhyun’s chest, closing your eyes and listening to him breathe underneath you, the metal of your arm still warm from the heat of his skin. 

“I could give you an upgrade.”

Your mouth twitches. You think you might have imagined the words, so you stay silent for a while longer until Baekhyun nudges your arm, checking if you’ve already fallen asleep.

“Upgrade?”

“Your arm. I could...have a new arm built. One like my leg.”

You sit up to look at him, the sheets falling from your body. “Don’t say pretty things you think I want to hear just because you’re still in the post-orgasm haze.”

Baekhyun blows air out of his nose, too tired to properly argue or even scoff at you. “Like I said before, I don’t waste time saying things I don’t mean.” His voice quiets. “We both know you can’t get your limb back, but...I could...give you something to help, at least. It’s...easier to deal with the cybernetics when they actually look like they belong on your body.” You know he speaks from experience there, by the way his gaze falters and drops to his lap.

“To feel more like a human again, huh.” Some part of you—multiple parts of you, maybe—had still been grieving over the arm you’d given up almost two years ago. Maybe it was a silly thing to be hurt over compared to the many other problems in your world, but it was difficult to stop feeling like you’d sold away a portion of yourself for nothing. Nothing but fleeting money.

Baekhyun’s offer stirs something in you. You turn your body away from him, feeling the tingle in your nose and eyes again that could only signal one thing. “Stop doing this. Being so...I don’t know, forgiving. Not after all I’ve done and said to you.”

Baekhyun sits up then, resting his hands on your arms. “I want to do this for you. Stop acting like you don’t deserve anything good in the world.”

You turn back to face him after a long moment, though the tears still linger in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the only one who benefits.” You shake your head slowly. “If you really agree to give me a new arm...you have more than enough resources to help change the nightmare Lower Tokyo has become. Help them. Help us. I don’t want to be some one-off experiment or pet project you discard once you’ve gotten your fill—some broken bitch from Lower Tokyo you think you can fix and turn into one of your family’s many success stories.”

Baekhyun is breathless from your admission; this is the most transparent you’ve been with him since you’ve met. Though part of him wants to shrivel back from your words, he clings to your long-awaited honesty, even if it is only shared with him to rebuke him and his family’s selfishly opulent ways. He thinks of why you pushed so hard against him trying to make a personal domain of Lower Tokyo, leaving the comforts of his own place to absorb the shadows of yours, and a better understanding of your rejection begins to dawn in his mind. Tentatively, he brings one of his hands from your arm to your cheek, thinking you might still wince away from him, but you don’t move.

“You’re right.” His voice is tight with the knowledge of it. “I can help, Y/N. You, and everyone else. I mean—I will. If there is one thing you can trust me on…let it be this.”

You stare into his dark brown eyes, trying to hunt for any signs of dishonesty, though you find none. There is only the heat of his hand on your face, and his open, yielding expression. “I will hold you to that, Byun Baekhyun.”

[lovetorn]

Life Was A Willow [Part 2]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: It's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings for Part 2: violence, mentions of death (familial), swearing

A/N: part 2 !!!! thank you so much for the support and feedback from part 1, omg thank you !! well, i hope you enjoy part 2 ahhhhh !!

It’s 9 pm and Y/n still waits for the signal. She looks in the direction of the Castle and swings her feet back and forth from where she sits on the cottage’s roof.

The air is cold and the trees continue to rustle, the same way they do every day, but tonight, she has an eerie feeling about it. Regret slips into her mind sometimes, telling her that she is foolish for even accepting such a vague invitation by someone she doesn’t even know—but it was so intriguing and she trusts them (she doesn’t exactly know why).

Suddenly, a large pop startles Y/n out of her daze. Sparkles dance in the sky as fireworks burst from the land below. She quickly notes that the explosions are coming from the West side of the Castle and takes that as the signal. Very grand indeed.

Y/n jumps from the roof, landing gracefully on the dirt, and takes off running through the forest. She misses tree roots emerging from the earth and ducks under low branches from the undergrowth. The only thing that lights her path is the moonlight and at this moment, Y/n is thriving. The full moon allows her abilities to heighten and she places her full trust in her instincts.

The fireworks continue to explode and Y/n fills with more adrenaline, the sound making her scream out in joy. She’s excited about the meeting, and she doesn’t even know who it is. And maybe that’s what she’s eager for; the unknown.

The entirety of the concept scared her before, but now she’s exhilarated. And as the show comes to a close, Y/n nears the East side of the Castle. It’s completely silent at this end and the eerie feeling she had before creeps back. It’s not a feeling of uncertainty but one of opportunity and her instincts are telling her to take it.

When she reaches the abandoned cottage, Y/n inhales sharply. There’s no light coming from the house and the door remains closed. As she steps onto the stairs in front, the wood creams beneath her and she scolds for giving away herself to the person inside. Instead of sneaking around, Y/n stomps towards the door and swings it open.

She sees a man in the corner and makes her way towards him, her hands out and ready in case this interaction goes south.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?” Y/n calls out. The man jumps slightly and lifts his head. And in the moonlight flooding in through the window, Y/n recognises him as Dream, even with his mask off. He stands in a white button-up and brown pants, his hunter boots on and a newsboy hat sat on his blonde hair.

“Dream?”

“Hi, Y/n. I knew you would recognise me.” Y/n doesn’t want to look away from him. This is the first time she’s seen his face, and despite the darkness, she sees how handsome he is.

“Why—how? Why did you want to meet me in such a creepy way?” Y/n asks in disgust, picking a cobweb out of her hair and then off of her shoulder; they seem to be everywhere. Her expression falls back to one of admiration when she looks back at him. However, the moonlight lacked the light Y/n needed to see him properly.

Dream laughs slowly. “I forgot to bring a lighter for the lamp. Do you think you could, uh—maybe,”

“Glady,” Y/n sighs and flicks her hand towards the candle in the glass encasing. It immediately comes to life and the room becomes brightly lit. Her eyes fall onto Dream again and she finally sees him; his piercing green eyes and the scar that runs from the top of his left temple to the corner of his lip.

“Wow,” Dream mumbles under his breath. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you, and I know that everybody I know would, just, obliterate me for even thinking about doing this, but I needed to talk to you about—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, right...”

Y/n squints at the man and then tilts her head. “Whose C?”

Dream’s eyes widen as he nods. “Yeah, uh, that’s me. My name’s Clay.”

The witch doesn’t say anything as she stares at him. “So why do they call you Dream?”

This isn’t where Dream thought the conversation would go, but he’s happy they’re not fighting.

“My mother came up with the nickname when I was born. I nearly didn’t make it and then through some miracle, I did. So, she called me her Dream.” Y/n can tell the story makes him emotional, so she doesn’t push any further.

“That’s really sweet, Dream.” And at the sound of his real name, Dream perks up slightly before he cracks a smile. Y/n grins back at him; a real genuine smile. The pair stand in the low lit room in comfortable silence, until Y/n’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asks. Dream nods once and continues from where he was cut off before.

“I wanted to discuss the possibility of a truce between witches and hunters,” Dream isn’t smiling anymore, instead his lips are screwed up and his hands fidget in front of him. Y/n, however, grins even bigger.

“I’m all for that, honestly. I’m tired of being on edge every day and being scared for my life. If we can find a way to create peace, even for a little bit, I’m on board.” Y/n keeps it short for now, not wanting to scare him off by how passionate she feels about the situation.

Dream’s eyes light up at the sound of her agreeing. “Really?” Y/n nods and becomes surprised when she feels Dream’s arms wrap around her. “Thank you, thank you.”

“No, Dream, thank you! I’ve been trying to convince people of this for years. I’m really glad that you feel the same way.” The pair pull apart and Dream flicks his eyes down to Y/n’s lips for a split second.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/n nearly chokes at his comment. Dream feels his cheeks burn when the words tumble out and soon they’re both flustered. “Sorry! Oh my, I’m sorry, that didn't mean to slip out—”

“Dream, it’s fine. I think you’re pretty too; especially without the mask.”

The hunter swats the witch’s shoulder playfully. “Stop~” The pair laugh together, and then proceed to stand in another comfortable silence. The wind howls and whistles outside and makes the cottage creak, adding to the eerie aura that surrounds it.

“What’s with the hat? It’s nighttime.”

Dream plucks the accessory off of his head and runs his opposite hand through his hair, the soft locks falling back into place when his hand returns to his side. “Part of the disguise, duh.”

Y/n squints at him, her expression morphing into one of mischief. “Isn’t the mask a disguise in itself, though? Also, put the hat back on, you look handsome with it.” It’s time for Dream to blush now. He covers his face with his hat and scoffs softly. “Y/n!”

The girl slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her embarrassed laughs. “It’s true!”

The man rolls his eyes before placing the hat back on his head. “Happy?”

Y/n nods before telling him to answer about the mask.

“Well, no, nobody at the Castle actually knows what I look like—except for my best friends, Sapnap and George.”

“George? As in Prince George?” Y/n is shocked, to say the least. She now understands why Dream is so passionate about the peace between the Hunters and Witches. Prince George is known for his differing morals and ideas from his family, which makes him stand out from the other Royals. Y/n admires his bravery and courage to do so.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were young. I’m jealous that he can be so open with his opinions in that Castle—Lord knows if I was, I'd be executed,” This makes Y/n’s stomach drop. “But, it’s okay, with your help, hopefully, we can convince humans and magical-kind alike, that there can be peace. A—And we can live together in harmony, without being consumed by the overbearing thought of death every moment of our lives.”

Dream stops his tangent, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. Y/n feels like crying; she has waited years for someone to be as passionate as her about this topic. “I’ll help you, Dream, no matter what; because I wholeheartedly believe we can do this. I trust you.”

Y/n shocks herself with this statement; she’s never trusted a human before.

“And I trust you Y/n.” The pair stare at each other, smiles spread across their cheeks as the night outside slips away, and then it’s just them; standing in the main area of a small, abandoned cottage that sits East of the Castle, lit up with a lantern that casts a warm glow over the pair. Y/n can almost say it looks and feels magical.

“Ok, enough flirting, let’s get planning on the truce. Sounds like a plan, doll?” Dream gives her a lopsided smile and Y/n feels her heart rate increase at the sight of him.

“Where were you?” Wilbur says. His voice is deeper than usual and fits in perfectly with the way he’s sitting ominously in the dark. Y/n stops tiptoeing towards her room and turns to face him; defeated that she got caught. However, she still remains giddy and her heart beats faster for other reasons.

“I was meeting with Schlatt—I need more toadstools for a potion I’m making.”

Wilbur squints at her, his lips curling into a frown. “I know you’re lying, and so does Niki.”

Y/n sighs and starts walking towards him. “I’m sorry—“ She pauses when she sees Wilbur shake his head.

“Don’t.”

Y/n screws her lips together and nods once. Her once excited demeanour fading away when she sees Wilbur’s look of disappointment. “I was meeting one of the new hunters, Dream.”

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Why?”

“We’re formulating a truce amongst witches and hunters.”

He raises his eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. “Okay? And why are you doing this? We don’t need peace.”

“Uh, so we’re not in danger every living second?” Y/n’s nerves grow into anger. “Why are you so against the chance of maybe, finally getting this?”

Wilbur shakes his head and stands up, the chair screeching against the wood floors as he moves. “Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

Y/n is at a loss for words while the tall man rolls his eyes and leaves, avoiding her as he circles around her to walk down the hallway.

His abrupt exit confuses Y/n. Why is Wilbur so against peace with the Hunters?

—

Dream manages to sneak into the Hunter’s Wing before they lock the front doors for the night. He sits silently on the bench in the training room and slips his boots off, making sure to place them on the floor as quiet as possible. He takes his hat off of his head and holds it in his palms, smiling stupidly at the inanimate object. The flame in the lantern next to him is fizzling out and it's hard to see 4 feet in front of him.

“Dream?” Even in his daze, Dream can sense the anger and fear in Sapnap’s voice.

“Sapnap? Why are you awake?” The younger boy walks out from the hallway and towards him.

“Me? Where were you? It’s midnight.”

Dream sighs and rests the hat on the bench next to him. “I was out.”

“Out? You mean meeting with the witch?”

Dream’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Fireworks don’t just go off for no reason, Dream. And I found the note in your room.” Sapnap says, ripping the letter from his pyjama bottoms pocket.

“Just say you have a crush on her, Dream!” Sapnap yells, throwing his arms up in defeat.

“I don't—I promise, Sapnap.”

“Fine, if you don’t like the witch, then kill her.” Dream’s dumbfounded. He stares at his best friend with such bewilderment that even Sapnap feels a twinge of guilt. Dream sighs, carding his hand through his hair in frustration and confusion.

He doesn’t reply, even when George arrives in a hurry, still in the process of wrapping a dressing gown around his body.

“What’s happened? I heard yelling.” The pair remain frozen, refusing to meet the Prince’s glare as they avoid eye contact.

George shakes his head, “Has this got to do with Dream meeting with the witch?”

“George! How do you know, too?”

George huffs. “I know everything that happens in and outside of my Castle. But, fireworks? Really?”

Dream throws his hands down in frustration. “Yes, fireworks! It was a good distraction and it was a signal for her anyway.”

George eyes the blonde before he crosses his arms over his chest. “As much as you hate to admit it, it's obvious that you’re fond of her, Dream. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side, okay? You know that.”

“What the fuck?” Sapnap spits. “You have his back? George, I can tolerate your ideals about the magical kind, but this is the witch who killed half of the hunter population.”

Dream stills. “What?”

“You’ve gone and done it now, Sapnap!”

“Y/n killed people?”

“Dream—“ George goes to speak, but he’s cut off by Sapnap.

“Yes! That’s why I’ve been trying to warn you! Why do you think we got this job so easily?” Dream stares at the concrete floor, his heart dropping into his stomach. He can’t believe it, he refuses to.

“Sapnap!” George snaps. The younger boy cowers away slightly, his once confronted facade crumbling at the sound of the Prince's tone. “Stop it, right now. You are in no place to tell him this, okay? You may be my best friend but that doesn’t excuse you from doing this.”

Dream chews on his bottom lip quietly as he watches Sapnap turn around and stomp out of the training room, but not before he scrunches up the letter and throws it on the floor. “Thanks.”

George’s gaze remains on the door. “Don’t thank me. He should know better anyway, considering his last relationship.”

The blonde nods once, reminding himself of the youngest boy’s past relationship with a fairy from the kingdom next door. Dream lets out a laugh at the thought.

For the next few days, Y/n hears nothing from Dream. She worries for him, has he been caught?

She stands on the porch of her cottage, hoping, begging for a sign that he is okay. Clouds plague the blue skies above and Y/n knows the bad omens swirling around the kingdom are the cause—and the inside of Niki’s crystal ball had burst with black and dark red clouds which had only confirmed her suspicions.

The wind howls through the trees and calls to her, speaking words of concern under its tongue. Y/n rolls her eyes and sighs, she knows to be careful, especially with the humans inching closer to their world.

However, a faint voice draws Y/n’s attention away from the wind and to the well in the corner of the garden. The sound confuses her at first, and then the wind’s guidance is forgotten as she makes her way towards it. The short fence around the area is still broken from the fight with the hunters weeks ago, and nobody has had a chance to repair it yet, so Y/n takes it upon herself to fix it.

The whispers from the well become a string of mumbles and are impossible to decipher as Y/n kneels with her back towards the forest—and for the first time, she is anxious about what lies within it.

But, before she can even begin picking up the pieces of wood, the sound of someone approaching her at a fast pace alerts Y/n immediately. She spins around with her hands out and is shocked when she sees Dream with his sword raised. The ground moves beneath her feet as she uses the earth’s power to aid her in meeting his strength.

“Dream?” She screams, her body struggling to resist the force of his weapon. Sparkles fall from her fingertips as she pushes back.

“You killed an entire army of people, Y/n!” Dream’s tone is low and angry and Y/n knows he would have found out eventually.

“Dream, I didn’t do that!” Y/n exclaims and Dream swings his sword backwards.

“How can I trust you? Hm? After all, you’ve killed people!” Y/n could cry at his utter naivety. She drops her arms by her sides as Dream glares at her in pure disgust.

“Instead of fighting, can we talk about this?” Y/n pleas. Her feet move swiftly beneath her, maneuvering her body away from Dream’s sword.

Suddenly, Dream brings the sword down to slice into Y/n’s arm, but a force pushes it back towards him, making the blade fly high into the air before it clatters onto the ground.

Y/n stands with her hands out, remnants of glitter falling around her fingers. “I told you! I’d never do that, and I have proof.”

“Proof?” Dream still stares at his sword, unable to meet Y/n’s eye.

“Proof. Now, how about we calm down and I’ll show it to you. Okay? Sounds like a plan?” Dream nods slowly, turning his head to face her. Finally, his green eyes soften and the raging fire that burns within them fizzles out.

“Okay.”

Y/n sighs before she begins. “When a witch kills an innocent; a human, they gain a marking on the back of their neck to signify the betrayal of the harmony between the two. However, since King James, that peace has been terminated; hence his need for hunters, like yourself.

“But, anyway, everybody in this damn kingdom thinks I killed those hunters, but I don’t have the mark,” Y/n turns around, her hand going to lift up her hair from her neck. The skin is clear, with no markings, nothing.

Dream nods, furrowing his eyebrows. “How do I know you didn’t just cast a spell to make it disappear?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “There’s no way to cover up the marking; it’ll just shine through whatever you put over it. It’s permanent and very obvious.”

“I told you, Dream, I didn’t kill them. I’d never kill an innocent.”

“Why didn’t you show them, then? You've had proof this entire time and never thought to actually show anyone?” Dream is bewildered. Y/n nods slowly, understanding his argument.

“I don't need to prove myself to your kind.” Is all she says. Dream waits for her to continue but soon realises she's not going to. “Fair point.”

“So, why did you come at me swinging? Did you really believe I would do that?” She whispers and Dream feels his heart sink. He is speechless for a few moments—did he really think that? Or was he feeding into Sapnap’s ideology of witches?

“S—Sapnap convinced me of things. I didn’t believe it at first, but the more he went on—I guess he got into my head.”

Y/n cocks her eyebrow and scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, he did. You could’ve easily killed me with the amount of anger you had.”

This makes Dream’s breath catch in his throat. “I—I’m so sorry, Y/n. That was never my intention—”

The witch shakes her head and holds her hand up. “It’s okay, Dream. You didn’t offend me. I’m still here, with you, right? Isn’t that enough to tell you that I’m not angry?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it’s annoying.” Y/n giggles, holding her hand out to grasp Dream’s.

“So—”

“Dream!”

The cottage is quiet, too quiet, and Y/n walks into the small kitchen, hoping to bake a cake to cure her boredom. But, Wilbur sits at the round dining table, his beanie and a sewing needle in his hands.

“Wil, I wanted to talk to you,” Y/n mumbles, pulling out a chair. Wilbur doesn’t meet her eye as she does so, continuing to patch up his beanie that got ripped on a tree last week.

“Why are you against harmony with humans?”

Wilbur sighs softly. He places the beanie on the table and turns to face Y/n. “Y/n, when I was young, I lived amongst the humans in a town not far from here. We tried as hard as we could to mix in and not draw attention to ourselves.”

The girl listens intently, both curious and scared for his answer. She can tell the story makes him anxious so she reaches for his hand that lays on the wooden table. “Go on, Wil. I’m here.”

Wilbur nods, his eyes already full of tears as he continues.

“However, one day, my family decided to move to a more secluded area within the town, so my father could teach me more about magic without the risk of being caught. When we entered our new cottage in the forest, we were ambushed and they killed my entire family, leaving me, the only child, alone. I was left there, with my parents' bodies for weeks. I was made to fend for myself until I found Niki in a cave several years later. I was only 7, Y/n.”

Tears cascade down both of their cheeks. Wilbur takes in a shaky breath before he collapses onto the table out of grief. Y/n immediately leaps into action, wrapping her arms around the older man and letting him use her for support. His broken sobs and heart-wrenching cries stab Y/n all over, and she immediately regrets asking him about it.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wilbur,” She didn’t push anymore, and that was all Wilbur needed.