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pranabefall · 1 month ago

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⠀⠀THE BIRD HUNTER'S SONG.⠀jing yuan.

chapter one , is it in fear ( 11K ) . you move into a new house, a new place, a new home. but the old occupant and his sleepy eyed hunger, rattles you more than you'd care to admit.

tags. jing yuan x fem reader, slight yandere elements, hybrids au, lion hybrid jing yuan x bird hybrid reader, reader is very scrappy and has a history of biting, dehumanization and past mistreatment of hybrids, reader preens / plucks from anxiety, self destructive behaviour, references to predation and prey, depictions of violence, jy is lowkey an ass gg XD, violence and breakdowns, the reader is not daijobu ( again ). minors dni. this work has been marked mature.

notes. okay wow okay first chapter in XD and on my birthday no less. a huge HUGE thanks to @sleepynoons and @silentmoths for beta reading this chapter and adding their insight in ( and to you, moth, for the bird facts and sitting through my agony and near obsessive rambling bahahaha ). updates for this work will be slow to say the least and chapters may take time to draft out due to me being a full time college student. so please be patient! // series masterlist. ao3.

FEAR noun . uk /fɪər/ us /fɪr/ an unpleasant emotion or thought that you have when you are frightened or worried by something dangerous, painful, or bad that is happening or might happen. ( cambridge dictionary )

The human who takes you from the local shelter is a strange one.

Her diminutive stature is the first thing you notice about her. She flips past the documents and the faces staring back, a pair of young boys with rabbit ears turning away when she passes by with a hurried bounce to a walk. Her meticulousness is the second thing you notice, right down to the careful tuck of her hair and her well manicured nails.

Still, she doesn't feel small. Not with that determined set to her jaw and the scathing edges to her intonation. She doesn't feel small at all.

It takes a single look. A curt once over as you stand before her with awkwardly clasped hands, fumbling a little when the keeper beckons you forth impatiently and lets you hunch toe to toe with her. Your feathers bristle beneath the weighted gold in her gaze and she seemed to mark off every detail she could scrutinise out of you. It's suffocating, almost, the way it settles down so fast on your back.

"A bird." She notes your wings. "She's been clipped?"

"When she first arrived, yes." The keeper replies. "My old colleagues told me she had a habit of escaping often. It was a precaution, for the most part."

The woman's face warps for a fraction of a second.

"This one, then. What's your name, girl. I don't have time to dawdle."

You blurt it out as she sits you down on the ratty old couch ( under the spattered posters on the walls behind you — little words of encouragement and empty torn edges. What a waste of paper. ) and introduced herself as Fu Xuan.

"I have my reasons to take you in." She tells you as you shakily sign through the paperwork. There's the weight of a thousand eyes bearing down hard and prickling against the back of your neck. "But it's mostly for company — " She passes you a vacant look. " — not me of course. It's another hybrid under my care."

You still. "What kind?" You ask. Your mouth is dry — the question doesn't matter in the end. Fu Xuan was the first to take interest in you in months, and you can't push aside the hungry desperation in your gut. You don't want to keep smelling the stink of neglect ( it's looming closer and closer ).

She studies you again. "A lion." She replies slowly. A twisted, cold feeling claws at your throat. Your lips pressed together to block out the whimper. Now is not the time for it, you reason.

"Is…" ( …he dangerous? Will he hurt you? There's a reflexive moment, a glimpse of wild, unconfined imagery that jars — one where you witness your neck being snapped in half. )

"He's harmless." She assures you quickly. "The lazy bum sleeps most of the day. His reasons for staying are mostly to keep any unwanted guests out, and he's good at caring for himself at least…" the corner of her mouth twitches. For once, the neat veneer chips and flakes away, exasperation burrowing at her forehead.

Fu Xuan suddenly looks a little more human, and you suddenly look less out of place. Some part of you does quietly nod kindly, knowing that kind of settling sort of tire. You can vaguely hear another set of footsteps shuffle through.

"Now he's pestering me over feeling lonely." She finishes. The pen in her hand clicks when you hand it to her. It keeps clicking as her thumb jams against the button with a feverish fervour. "I suppose I owe him that much though."

Click click click click click.

You feel stripped down, under dressed, used in a way. You should have learned to live with it, that blunt dismissal and the sting it brings in with its bone deep sear. You're fluttery, fluttery and nervous and your fingers keep flexing and tapping against the meat of your arm.

Click click click click click.

"T-that's all?" You whisper. "Just…keep him company?"

"Just keep him company. You don't have to approach him really. In fact, stay away from him." She passes you a withering stare. You don't think it's you she's nauseated by. "He'll hack away at your sanity with that incorrigible attitude of his."

Click click click click click.

You start. something feels wrong. "I don't know if it will stay that way though — " you try to reason, picking it apart, choosing your words carefully. "I'm sorry…what I mean to say is — "

"He'll just spend a few moments staring at you. Maybe ruffle a few feathers." Fu Xuan's nose wrinkles as she sweeps her hand over her pencil skirt. She makes it look like a delicate matter, very poised and all. Then her gait straightens, waiting, watching.

You kick at your feet a bit, reading over the papers again. The words knit together into blotchy, incomprehensible nonsense. Bitterness weighs into your mouth, like mercury dripping down the film of your throat. It sears it down to parched acridity, and you try swallowing that lump back lest it starts to hurt. "And you only expect this from me? Nothing else?"

( It's not uncommon for some people to take in another hybrid. Loneliness can sag into one's teeth and eat you alive on the inside, wasting away at bones and marrow and feasting on a carcass. Sometimes that peters into intimacy. You know that's well out of your control.

But a lion. You don't like cats. Not really, beneath the leering hunger and claw tipped grasps. )

Fu Xuan shrugs. "You have a good track record. I do not see the harm." You start, the corner of your eye twitching against the flooding disbelief. That was a lie. That was a fucking lie.

( You glance over at the door. There's a shadow shifting from the cracks underneath, listening in — spectre-like and greedy. You guess there's a little more value in the money you'd bring in with Fu Xuan taking you in. It means getting rid of many, many things. )

You stare down at the papers. The ink of your signature has smudged a bit at the end, blotting to the edge and staining the side of your thumb. Your lips purse.

"It sounds good." You relent, passing her the papers. You could practically hear the nervous buzz breaking into your eardrums. It feels a little too easy, the whole affair and that seed of doubt digs fast into your guts. "I don't have much to argue against anyway."

Fu Xuan leans back. "Good." She sighs. "That's one problem solved."

You're handed the few belongings you had. A bag, a change of clothes and a couple of books — the last is a ratty stuffed toy ( a lamb with cream coloured wool and a soft pink nose. ). You'd had it since you were a child, well worn and well loved till patches of fur were missing and an eye had come a little loose.

( It's still yours though. It fills you up with that kind of buttery warmth you'd nearly forgotten through the years — worn into the days bleeding by and the aches that come with it. You love this, old, threadbare thing more than your chest and hollowed bones could handle.

It's yours in the most simple way of putting things; that breath of air, the lightness against your fingertips.

Yours alone. )

Fu Xuan doesn't say much when you enter her car and press up to the corner of her backseat. You count the pages in one of your notebooks and look over the scrappy doodles and your smudged writing against the corners. A few minutes into the drive, she peers at you through the rear view mirror.

"He always liked birds."

It's soft enough for it to fly past your head. But you hear it all the same, hunching your shoulders till you're half folded up against the backrest. The clipped edges of your wings chafing against the rough fabric of the seat.

It's a long drive. Long and plastered beneath the reflected heat from the windows and a swathe of silence that you or Fu Xuan don't bother filling the cracks of. There's sweat beading at your forehead and the persistent hum muttering behind you, somewhere in your ears. You nearly say something to pull any attention away from it but think otherwise, fatigue creeping into your muscles and etching into their fibres.

Your shoes are tucked away into a little rack when you arrive at Fu Xuan's house ( it's such a nice little place — whitewashed walls and well trimmed gardens — yet almost surgically bare at the same time ). She lets you patter around the entryway as she sifts through her purse, then gestures to one of the cupboards.

"There's a spare set of slippers in there." she points out.

"O-okay."

You do check. They're either a size too small where it painfully pinches at your toes or several sizes too big for you. A measure for each tenant ( none for you ) right down to the specifics. You grasp at the edge of the little closet, sweaty palms nearly slipping over the smoothed wood as you poke your head in a little deeper. Finally, you straighten with a white slipper in hand almost engulfing your wrist.

One for each tenant. The thought plays out. You swallow. You don't want to meet the other hybrid. That terrified part of you is kicking against the rattling bars, protesting a flurry of expletives at the suggestion, till its parched throat cracks and the metal shudders through the impact.

You'll make do though, comes the assurance with its insistent little whisper down the side of your neck. It leaves a trail of prickling coldness — an uncomfortable, lingering sort. You tell yourself to leave it be, and you repeat it with a tightness slowly building inside your gut.

Better this than there. Better this than there.

The larger pair is what you elect on, awkwardly shuffling behind Fu Xuan after you wear them ( you pray the shoes stay on and not, say, slip off and careen into the furniture. You don't think you could handle feeling the weight of stupidity paired with the nervous buzz in your blood ). Fu Xuan takes notice but says nothing. There's an amused angling to her chin, a show subtle enough to warm your cheeks to a blistering flush.

"I hope you don't mind." you try to say. It spills into a messy squeak. You shut yourself up before the squeak amasses into a messier flurry of nonsense.

Fu Xuan hums. "It's fine." she shrugs. "We have plenty to go around…"

A nod, another quick look around you. White walls, wood floors, all of it bare of dust or the clamminess in the shelters — and something else — a scent hangs in the air here, heavy and soft. Shampoo that doesn't quite smell like Fu Xuan and the faintest wisps of danger, danger, danger coming alight at the ends of your nerves.

"Jing Yuan?" she calls into the empty halls. A brief echo wafts through, stilling the air when its vestiges gently fade out against the wall. She waits a moment then clicks her tongue as the silence persists. You clench at your fists, waiting for the shift, for the dust to lift up, for heavy footfalls. "He's probably asleep." She huffs.

"Will you look for him?"

"I wouldn't bother." She grouses. "Finding him is hardly an issue…but the work put into waking him up? I will not put myself through that nonsense again. He'll only fall right back to sleep."

You're dizzy from nodding affirmations over and over, letting yourself ease into the cool draft the kitchen let in. "Can I have some water?" You ask.

"Yes."

You pour yourself a glass, nursing the rim with a pinch to your brow. Your bag is set down on the floor and you hear Fu Xuan's keypad type away furiously. It's something to break the monotony at least. You take a sip, then another and you're suddenly pouring yourself another glass and drinking that too.

You can't quite put your finger on it, the rush. The speckling of many blotchy feelings bruising your heart blue and red. They dig into it with a persistent grip, marking out planes of skin with their nails and fingertips. Perhaps you shouldn't have come here. The scent is getting a little more overwhelming with the passing time and —

— oh but you're hungry too. And you curse yourself for being this foolish, cowardly thing, for coveting that sliver of hope. You could be treated well here, right? You could be allowed a little more than a pittance before being shoved into the cold once more. It's a baited taunt and it dangles in front of your starved hands enough to scatter immediate thoughts of doubt and reasoning.

( It growls, it agrees, burying down in a dishevelled state of feathers and claws, cooing into the earth and tasting. )

You do not hear him enter the kitchen in the midst of your mulling. Not till silvery white tickles your cheek and you catch a flash of gold on the glass' surface. The scream is torn out before you could shove it back and you cant your body back against the counter, into disorientation, into stinging pain and —

A hand catches the falling glass and pulls you away. You're blinking up at him, dazed ( and a little achy ), watching the smile on his face broaden timed with the inquisitive arch of his brow. Then you grab at him, digging at his fingers and painfully prying each one free from the meat of your arm. A poisonous hiss squeezes through your head; you soften your actions, pull at his wrist.

The man narrows his eyes and thankfully, lets you go. You retreat to Fu Xuan's side, feathers stiffened and pinching into your neck.

The man does not stop smiling. He holds one hand up, sets the glass down and considers you, just as Fu Xuan did, molten gold searing into the making of your bones. Then you catch the ears, the tail, white like the fluff of his hair ( his hair, you want his hair. No, you shouldn't want his hair — shut up ). Your heart slowly picks back up, thrumming one moment and hammering against your ribs the next, scraping into an ugly, cold hollowness that grows.

"Fu Xuan, you never told me we had a guest."

Fu Xuan remains bemused, one hand resting on her hip while a finger prods straight at his stomach. "So you were awake? You certainly took your own sweet time." She snips, an accusatory weight layering in thick sheets and an undertone of bitter malt. Jing Yuan laughs, a chest deep, throaty thing that seeps into skin and bone and rattles you within.

If you were a little younger, you'd have considered him an unfairly pretty face. The type that leads you into the comforts of daydreams, where silly girlish crushes are indulged and you would giggle over your foolishness and fluster unobstructed.

You're older now, plucked clean of most of that sentiment — devoured essentially by wear and tear and the rising and falling of motions. Old instinct boils to a tipping point, deep, deep down where your lifeblood pumps and the crevices of some ancient whisper urges you to run.bits what had kept you alive a long time. It's the most trusted part of you, undoubtedly.

And yet, you do not run.

"There's no need to rush into things. Besides…" He pauses, flashing you his grin, keenly fringing his mouth and curling away to let his canines peek through. They're sharp, as you expected. "If I'd known we'd be entertaining new company then I would have made a better first impression."

It's the way he handles Fu Xuan with blase amusement that throws you off ( much like a cat toying with a ball of yarn ). Most humans liked the obedient types, hybrids who didn't complain or push buttons or pull away at the hems of people's patience like insistent little children. She must have far more tolerance to bullshit than you'd given her credit for; or at the very least, stranger tastes.

"Well you haven't bothered introducing yourself."

"That's true."

He sidles up close, bending just a smidge to take a proper look at your face. Your expression morphs to terror as easy as melting butter, scuttling back another step. His hand hovers right in front of you, right there as he politely tilts his head to meet your stare and the writhing, coiling panic you want him to see nothing of.

"Hello." He says, unbothered by the initial stake of fear. There's a set to his jaw, a light in his eyes that delights in it — leering behind a simple gentleness like every other predator stalking the grass. You feel sick. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Jing Yuan."

"…hi." You whisper, spouting your name out after a painful hitch burns at your throat. You feel like an idiot again but it's hard, under all this scrutiny, to act normal and turn away the cold in your body. The next couple of words are strained against the force you utter them with. "It's…it's nice to meet you too."

( You do not shake his hand. Jing Yuan smiles a little wider at that.

this — you realise, in all it's stubborn pride, was the first mistake you'd made. )

"She's staying with us." Fu Xuan is back on her phone, looking between the two of you a second too long. She weighs over something you can't read off of her. "Don't torment her too much, Jing Yuan. She's meant to keep you company given my usual absence."

"Oh please. I'm not a cruel man." He squints. "Though I'm quite certain I was joking about that whole ordeal…" You snap your head up at him just as he stands a little taller. "Ah, never mind that though. How about I help you settle in? Fu Xuan tends to be rather dismissive for the most part and I'm sure you'll need some help — no bullying involved of course." He adds when he notices Fu Xuan wrinkles her nose beside you. "No bullying at all."

You collect your bag and tuck it under an arm. "I'd uh…I'd appreciate that." You swallow.

His hand rests just above your wings, the edge of his palm just brushing against your feathers with a gentle press to it. You feel the ghosting of his claws through your shirt, the heat of his breath, the faint pound of his heart. That wailing, sinking weight in your chest tugs down further and further till your knees nearly give out and you're nearly split open.

Make do. Make do. You suck a breath in, letting Jing Yuan lead you down the hall. Make do, because you're a greedy, selfish thing and anything is better than the streets at night or the stink in the shelters. There's precious little kindness there and if you could feast on these scraps and the manufactured smell of paint and safety, you will feast on it.

What else, really, was left to feed on anyway?

( Jing Yuan's satisfaction is palpable in how he pats your head. )

Fu Xuan didn't lie about the birds. They flock to him as much as he calls for them, preening into the fluff of his hair and poking at the apples of his cheek. Jing Yuan obviously adored the birds in turn, letting them do as they please while his laughter wanes against the rustling of the curtains.

Two, three, four — you count five flocking in and about him stirring up a cacophony till they disperse after a warning shout at the other end of the house ( perhaps Fu Xuan doesn't like animals inside…you wonder what that would mean for you ). One of them focuses its wet, beady little eyes on you, then hops off of his shoulder to nestle over yours.

You hold little ire for it, especially the ones as small as this one. It stays on its perch, pressed into the warmth of your neck and the occasional gentle bat against your jaw. You're left listening to its soft little chirps through its process of preening its feathers, then yours. "Easy now," you whistle. "It's a lot of work. I can manage the rest."

Another chirp, chastising your seeming lack of care. "Sorry." you mutter. "You can come and visit me later."

The bird seems as pleased as a bird could get. It flutters back onto Jing Yuan's waiting palm, flapping its wings over his cheek as he holds it up to his face. You're falling taut, nearly surging over to grab it away, almost envisioning the crunch of bones and blood and remnants of feathers. He does not eat the bird. Not yet. It hisses. Not yet.

"They like you. All of them do." he lets it shift around his mouth and melt over his tongue.

"They think I'm like them." you reply, halting between a few utterances. "At least I think so."

"Are you?"

You purse your lips. "Of course not. Hybrids aren't animals." Jing Yuan doesn't interject and you wallow in what you'd just said. There's a special kind of torture when rationality is paired with instinct and unbidden emotion. You feel the consequence of it now, scratching at your skull and your eyes and mouth. You want to bite, break, work away at the world around you till cloth crumbles and wood indents between your teeth and no no no.

( There are times where the insistent nip sways past coherence. It's a sordid beast, and people never let it into their houses lest things break and shatter and your tongue is red-slicked and tastes of iron. )

"Of course," he whispers. "Of course we're not."

The weight in the air bears down even more. You roll your shoulders, his shadow falling over you when another window is passed. You can see the street outside, the neighbourhood in question. A couple lived across with a pair of children, barely above the age of six. "Come on now." Jing Yuan urges. "You can lounge about all you want after we're done with this, yeah?"

You bristle a little. "Okay." you repeat, sounding a little like a broken record. You haven't said much of anything to him. He doesn't seem to mind this either, his touch leading you along.

There is a glimpse of where the loneliness first took root and flowered. Jing Yuan navigates that negative space between the furniture easily enough, his larger frame hunching over while he keeps his tail curled close to him. You try not to step on it either. Cats hate that, hybrids or not.

But even with him filling out the gaps and masking the light filtering through the glass, you can't wipe away the emptiness of it all. Flat, like concrete, tasteless like cardboard. Fu Xuan had mentioned it. There's business to attend to, the bustle of a metropolis and the chatter in offices amongst countless other important human things. And Fu Xuan's home feels half there with her absences.

"Do you have any spare clothes?" he asks.

"I do…in here."

He pauses, boring sharp at your ratty bag. He's unconvinced.

"Do you have good clothes?"

"I can still use mine." you insist stubbornly. The most you really need is food and a place to stay. You'll sing your songs and look pretty if the need be — the kind of eye candy some eccentrics like putting up on their shelves or flaunting in little gatherings with wine flutes. But the generosity picked apart and handed out by most handlers never came without a price. There's always the expectation of something belied beneath good nature. Always.

Jing Yuan smiles, patient, expectant. For some reason that pisses you off even more. "We'll buy you some then." He reasons, finality cutting into his remark. "She won't let you walk about in hand me downs. Ha, she wouldn't let me walk about in any, either."

You grit your teeth, tear into your lips till the tip of your tongue tastes tang and iron. "I'll be okay." you mumbles, scuttling up to keep pace with his strides. "Seriously speaking, I don't need much — and I have most of what I need, see?" The bag is flashed again, right into his field of vision. Jing Yuan seems to be holding back a snort.

"And that's a lie." He hits back lighthearted. "But oh, if you insist. We can settle that for another date, hm?"

You don't have the will to argue any further. The fatigue from the car ride is slipping back in as the adrenaline wears off and your anxiety saps away as it always has. It pulls down at you. You want to take a nap now, curl up in some warm corner and rest out the day and worry little about lions and humans and new places.

Jing Yuan shows you what needs to be shown — the way round the place, the back garden and the tree-shade and all the other important details. There are a couple of spots that hold its personal touch, breaks away from the disconcerting absence of life. A few trinkets, a chess board in the cupboard, a couple of coffee mugs, the downy pillows pushed against a window.

( "For sunbathing." Jing Yuan had sighed with a rather matter of fact way of speaking. "Fu Xuan, unfortunately, is a bit of a spoilsport and keeps telling me to clear it out."

"Oh." you deliver with all the sympathy you could muster.

Jing Yuan's eyes gleam. "They key though, is putting all that work off. She lets it be after a few months of persistence and it's quite the convenience in my opinion." he laughs a little. "I make it up to her with her favourite tea when she is around. So step carefully if you plan on pulling a stunt like that, hm?"

You distinctly recall Fu Xuan's annoyance and the near constant migraine that plagued her. The source of it all shuts his eyes and grins, the shining, golden image of lethargic innocence. )

It matches what fleeting glimpses you see of his room when he shuts the door to it proper. "You can always visit." He offers.

That doesn't sit well with you either. It's that fear of a kind of devouring, of that delicate consideration piercing into your neck. Maybe you are being a little uptight. Maybe Jing Yuan is being polite and charming and sweet voiced to ease you into a new situation with genuine concern. Maybe you're too fundamentally beaten to really see an ounce of kindness for what it was, even as your gut gnaws and smarts for it.

( It's still possible for a fire to burn you, if you lay your frostbitten fingers too close. The kind of hurt that is wilfully ignored in favour of scouring the bowl clean. )

"…And your room." He continues, the white noise letting up. He pats at the door. "Settle in now. I'll get dinner ready for you and Fu Xuan. You must be hungry."

"Thank you."

He watches you from the doorway as you scope the space out, hiding your little treasures beneath the pillow and gathering the rest into the closet. You make sure it looks put together, feeling the fabric out with a shaky sigh till Jing Yuan snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Your sheep is cute." he begins. "They've been pulled out, right? I don't see them on the market anymore."

Your eyes snap to the pillow. Its ratty leg was sticking out. "What about it?" You question, stiffening when that heat drifts up your spine. He'd crossed the room at some point, leaning against the wall beside you. You hadn't even noticed. You don't see why he'd seem so interested in it though. Loved as it may be, the poor toy was barely held together by discoloured thread and your shaky sewing.

"How long have you had it?"

You grunt, your shoulders coming to rise and fall. "A long time." You don't know why you're entertaining him, but there's a conversational air in the way he speaks, tugging and tugging and tugging away at any inhibitions sealing tight what you keep close to your chest. It puts you off, how easily it spills out as the creak from the cupboard door grates at your ears and you lean against it after turning to face him slowly. "I was still young when I had it."

"Were you on the streets before this?" There's that look, that almost-smile curved at the corners of his lips. Your back presses into the hardwood and your heart beats a little too fast.

"Yes." You nod. You grip the steel handle behind you hard. He's just being friendly. Just being friendly. "I mean for a while…I've lived in a few places before…but…" You lick your lips. He might tell Fu Xuan, if she hadn't read your history already. A long list of scribbles and blotted ink, all of it a barely legible mess to consider yet all of it detailing a scathing review of…everything. The caretakers had made you read through every enunciated word till you'd nearly plucked your feathers clean off.

Jing Yuan jerks his head into a semblance of some affirmatory gesture. "I see." he says in a way that is a bit too aware for someone so large, sleepy and unassuming ( a pair of glowing dots in the dark, the throbbing in its chest, a heartbeat and the shift of the earth and dust as it pounces ). "Is this room to your liking?"

You don't have to think much over this one. "Yes." It is. The bed looks soft. So soft. And you could see the road outside with the gardens between. There's plenty of sunlight to let in and you could breathe a little easier and not have to gag at the sweat-ridden sheets and the unchanged blankets. This is good, and you know to be grateful. "Thank you."

"Tell that to Fu Xuan then." He chuckles. "I didn't quite expect her to indulge in my caterwauling. But I trust you'll be well cared for here. Just follow the rules, the important ones…she'll list them out after you rest. There's nothing you haven't heard already, I'm sure — stay on your best behaviour, make yourself useful. The usual demands"

You start. "I…I can do that…" you supply.

"Good. She's the type who likes a bit of productivity. Nothing too extreme, but do your share of the chores and she'll be fine. Heaven's forbid you try to make her take a break…" he says that last part aloud, half joking with that dismissive wave of his. "But she has given you a home to stay in, little one. I hope you know the weight of that, and the gratitude it comes with."

"Of course!" you sputter out, nodding vigorously up at him. "I won't do anything…I won't act up either!" You look to either side of you, letting the handle go. "Anything else?"

"That's all I can recall." Jing Yuan muses after thinking over it for a second. Another pat on the head, another half there smile. He holds himself a certain way, in on a joke he doesn't give away to the rest. You catch the shrinking presence of sandalwood scented into his sweater, his wrists. "I'll tell you anything else I do remember later."

"Thank you again."

His tail curls at the end. You assume the conversation is done and dusted. You want to lay down now, sleep off the tire and the heaviness before you drop down where you stand. You start towards the bed. Jing Yuan shuffles to the door, stops just as he turns the knob and hums.

"And another thing. Your wings."

You jump, tracing against the feathers you could reach. "Yes?"

"Nothing. They're quite pretty, that's all."

Your cheeks warm up. "Oh." Then. "…thank you…?"

Jing Yuan purrs, rumbling at his ribs, right to the eaves of his shoulders you'd assume. Then, he ducks out of the room, trailing into the somewheres with silent footsteps ( despite the stature he holds himself with ). You look back down and absently wonder why, of all things, he'd say that. You are wearing his slippers after all ( there's plenty of other things to notice about you ).

Said slippers were kicked aside. You're on the bed, curled into the mattress and smelling detergent in the sheets. Jasmine scented, subtle in its presenting statement. Your mind is a heavy, heavy weight and your hands work into stray feathers with fever till the odd ends don't stick out as much. You drift, thoughts sinking to splotchy colour and a screeching bird cry.

In your dreams, there are things that rip your feathers out. Long-fingered and claw tipped, biting your flesh and scooping through your insides. They make you count your viscera and the bloodied organs, one by one till it coalesces and clots and you start feeling faint ( your lungs and nose are clogged with red red red. You see it, taste it, cough it out, drown in it ).

And with that final gasping breath in — you wake up, sweat drenched against your scalp and back and across your forehead. Your gums throb, and you nearly take the soft bits of your palm and the ends of your nails, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

You're staring down at your blanket, heaving at your chest. The blue pattern is what you shift your focus on, threaded cotton sewn to shape little blooming flowers. It's something you'd picked out from the cupboards because it was cute, perhaps a nod to Fu Xuan’s soft spot for handmade articles and the like ( she collects them from time to time, hides them away in her cupboards with thrifted memorabilia that you aren’t to see or touch ). You trace at it, shove whatever parts of you that could still think down, like some grounding post till the light headed terror seeps out and the chilling dryness in your throat is swallowed back.

Your fingers sift at your feathers. It's a mechanical shift, lining back the bent corners and messy ends till you look a little groomed. You ache a bit, missing another touch. The gentle pressure, your mother's faint song, the coolness of metal to your cheek.

( It brings to the surface, a thing you don't want to see. You choke on your wail and wipe your eyes until it's gone. Your voice is strained now, your teeth worrying into skin and the tip of your tongue. The taste of iron and the searing pain wakes you a second time.

You need a brush. One of your prior handlers had one. A brush would be nice. )

It's morning now. A bit too early but you spare yourself the expense of going back to bed. After that, staying awake seems a little more merciful. You bunch your legs up and peer through the window, pressing your hands against the sill till your knees edge against lurching numbness. Then you pad to the bathroom.

It's been a few days — hardly a week. You are…okay. Okay is the closest you could describe it. Okay is good, in your standards. Okay means you're getting by and things are fine and you don't have to worry about eating into yourself with that growing pit in your stomach. Okay meant a lie, a well dressed one and you can accept that meager offer and turn everything else off in the face of that upheaval.

The water trickles. You dunk your head till your hands and face are wet, till the ends of your hair are damp and dripping. The tap is turned. You watch the last of it drain out with a noisy, scraping sound that hurts your ears a little and shudders through meat and bones. That feeling hasn't subsided yet — that shrill part of you that wants to break and break and break. Even the spout, all clean and shiny metal only sought some unspeakable ire.

( The stirring scares you. You don’t like where it’s going. You don’t like how it’s waves rock against your hull and shunt you to disequilibrium. )

You twitch, biting into your cheek. The sting has you jump a bit, press your fingertips into the cool surface of the sink and focus on your dazed expression in the mirror. You peer back, watered down of everything with the nerves lingering under your skin ( parasitic, crawling ). A splotch of phantom pain persists, an emptiness from the sight of your guts torn apart. You feel sick.

Deep breath in. Out. In. Out.

The restlessness is purged. You step back. You're okay, you tell yourself. The obsessive tugging against your plumage leaves a smarting wake.

Fu Xuan is usually the first to rise in your household.

You follow suit a few minutes after, shuffling over the cold tiles and manning the stove. She sits herself down at the table and peers at her newspaper, a pen tapping at the sudoku with a wrinkled nose. Sometime after, Jing Yuan would come join the two of you and set to prepare breakfast — sleepy eyed and sly mouthed while he makes his usual small talk and pushes her buttons over your tense silence.

For now, you make her tea as the quiet in the kitchen remains empty static and the muffled noise out back. Jing Yuan had told you how she liked it on your second morning here amidst his bustle, half asleep ( you weren’t opposed to learning the ropes. Maybe the chores assured you an extent of control, a chance to tweak at the finer details, a footing you could set yourself on, a part of anything you could use to stay a little longer for once ).

Fu Xuan is busy, busy, busy and in what Jing Yuan calls ‘an unnecessary rush’. It’s the meetings the clipping of her footsteps takes her to, clients to see, cases to parse over and loopholes to push at. There's something about standing in place, surrounded by the chatter of people at their worst. You’re not surprised she comes home at the end of the day ; half dead against the couch, with the feel of her head cracked open and the matter inside crushed in.

“I need to start early today.” She speaks up. “Let Jing Yuan know that I’ll be passing over breakfast.”

“I don’t think he’ll approve.” you start, as the water starts to boil.

Fu Xuan looks over at the clock. Her back bows in urgency, impatient pattering bouncing off of the wood table top. “He won’t.” She agrees slowly, the newspaper crumpling over the edge of the table. She massages her forehead. “But I’m afraid this one’s an urgent case. He can drop lunch over at my office if he insists on it.”

You sift through the blends and pick out her favorite ( ginger, you had clocked in back then as Jing Yuan had handed you some of the jars to smell. The kind good for migraines ). She likes her drinks sweet, sweetened to a point where it’s more syrup than spice. You’d made the mistake at sneaking a taste in and reeling away from the unpleasant settling in your mouth. Too much, you’d decide, even for you and some part questions the health risks that come with an intake this saturated.

“Is it ready?” Fu Xuan pipes up.

You shake your head. “It still needs to steep.”

“Alright.”

She’s going to be diabetic at this point, you fret a little. If she isn’t already. Your indignation must have shown when you were stirring all that sugar in — she almost smiled over at you. “Is there anything you’ve been wanting to do? Any hobbies?”

“Not really.” you admit, playing with your sleeves. Hobbies…hm hobbies. You try to think of a few, your memories uneven in how childish abstracts wedge together under squiggly, crayoned lines and colours. “It’s been a long time since I tried anything, if…ah — ” part of the water sizzles against the side. You jerk your hand back before a spurt burns you. “ — I am being honest.”

Fu Xuan makes a sound. She doesn’t believe you. “It’s a big house.” she asserts curtly. “You can’t stare at a wall all day.”

“I’ll just do the chores.” you hastily add in, your grin tight at the corners. She raises a brow, taking a sip. You fight the urge to hurl, envisioning that syrupy consistency running down your throat. “I…I’m not bad at it.” Fu Xuan likes productivity. It’s in her rules. She won’t find fault here.

“Chores.” She echoes. “If I'd heard that out of Jing Yuan's mouth…” She utters an afterthought. You don’t catch it in its entirety while her cup is drained and set aside.

“Will you be heading out?”

“Yes.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s only your…fifth? Day here. Try to get some tea ready for the two of you. He will still make breakfast if you’re hungry.” Your stomach rumbles. “Don’t bother lying to him.” She cuts in before you could deny that fact. “If he cared for any matter of opinion, he’d have been a far more agreeable housemate, I think.”

You blink. “I…I hope I’m not overstepping but…why keep him around then.”

Fu Xuan thinks it over and shakes her head, disgruntled. “Cats will be cats. I don’t hate him so I don’t see why. He’ll probably die if I do, given his laziness.” And that is that. You hover and fret by the doorway, watching her car back away from the garage and roll down the driveway. A part of you jolts at the sight of the open gate, a voice singing into a muddled choir, urging your legs to run.

Your hands slip from the wood frame. You take a deep breath in. You smell the grass and flowers and a lilting note almost beckoning you…

“Good morning.” Jing Yuan pipes up behind you. His smile is fanged, deliberately schooled. You want to shrink in, disappear into the drumming of your heart and the rasp of your breath. He seems to scrutinize you, gaze flicking between your feet and the door and the gate beyond, a calculative step set forth. You scramble back, instinct drowning, compelling you under some masochistic spell to yank at your feathers.

You are cornered.

The shadow blocks the sun out. His scent settles fast and heavy and you wheeze, open mouthed, ready to sputter out an apology just as the door creaks shut. The pleasant butteriness melts into his smile when he pulls away, the feeling nearly smeeing manufactured after that initial glacial run in ( it was the makings of an electric storm. The prickle of static against your lungs and the sinking heat ). “Sorry about that. Can’t keep the door open…extra precautions and all.”

He says it so easily. You nod, your lip starting to wobble.

“Hungry?” he offers.

“Yeah…” you strain. “Yeah, I am…” Jing Yuan is pleased. I wasn’t going to run — it doesn’t make sense, anyway. You try to tell him, perhaps afraid of any mounting acrimony ( that’s a fire you need to put out now, now, now ). Your throat closes up and you’re left to follow behind him.

“Fu Xuan left?”

Your thoughts flatine. “Huh?”

Jing Yuan blinks, drawing the silence out. You shift on your feet, face growing hot. “Fu Xuan.” he repeats, rather genially all things considered, pausing to lean against the counter. “Has she left?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and turns his back to you. “Foolish girl hasn’t eaten, has she?”

“She had tea.”

“Just tea?”

You guiltily stare at your feet. “Just tea.” You echo your affirmation. The throbbing in your chest starts, growing worse and worse and worse, twisting into a cold gutting thing that crawls into your stomach. It’s such a childish need, this urge to slip away and hide. You wish you’d grown out of it. “She said you could drop lunch off at her office later.”

Jing Yuan hums. “I’ll do that then.” There’s the grazing of metal against ceramic. You wince at the high ring in your ears. “Would you like to help?”

“I can.” You nod. Your last few handlers were from different places and the first few, who had bothered to teach you a thing or two, liked spice in their food. There was an older lady who had taken you in after you were separated from your mother, who’d gently guided your little hands over the counter top. She’d talk about her children — they had grown and left the nest when she’d brought you home.

You know how to cook. It’s the barebones and you hardly remember the recipes taught to you between the different households and kitchens and vessels you’d come to navigate. It’s scratched away from the annals of your mind, like waterlogged tape or whitened out bits of film. It's a part of you that kept being erased and redone over and over.

Jing Yun left you with the batter after walking you through the steps. You manage just fine with those, handing him the bowl when you’re done folding everything in. He lets out a pleased sound, a rather disarming grin flashing just at the corner of your sight. Your face burns again.

“Have you eaten pancakes before?” he asks after a while.

“Once.” you reply, racking your memory. “It was for a reward. One of my handlers had a kid a few years younger than me. He’d scored well in his tests.” You pass him a wobbly sort of smile. “So they had a nice breakfast the morning after and treated him to this…it tasted good.”

Jing Yuan laughs. “Fu Xuan was the one who introduced me to the recipe when I first moved in.” He admits, flipping one over as he speaks. You find a softer shine in his gaze. The sharpness and gilded disconnect seem an implausible memory in a moment like this ( you almost fall into it, lean just a little closer. The writhing thing that they call instinct throws itself at the bars and draws you away with the iron’s rattle. ). “I think you’ll like these…granted she made her’s a bit too sweet for my liking.” Another laugh. There’s a divot at the corner of his mouth. “I take it you’re the same, then. So no sugar…there’s fruit in the fridge if you’d like some though.”

“Right.” You scramble. Sandalwood fades out, then back in as you scuttle back, handing him the frozen blueberries you salvaged from the back. Your fingertips are wet against the thinner layers of frost coagulating at the edges and sides and you set it down quickly when your hand starts to numb. The end of his tail curls. You can taste his approval at the back of your mouth.

You still don’t know what to talk about. Jing Yuan still scares you at times, when the weight of his gaze suffocates you. He still scares you when the walls are suffused with sandalwood and balm ( he’s lived here a while. Of course it would ). He still scares you, because he could rip you apart with little struggle, tear your throat open, snap a bone in half. There’s pleasure to be felt in indulgence, in blood. It sparks that itch in your teeth, a persistent urge to gnaw, gnaw, gnaw.

You turn away to pad and press at your molars. They’re brittle, hard. The ache starts. Your shoulders hunch. The nausea churns for the second time today.

Fuck this. Your eyes start to water. You don’t feel all that hungry anymore.

You eat breakfast anyway. It was hard, forcing it down into the empty space of your stomach. Jing yuan watches, contemplative, and you struggle to bear it. You can’t handle more staring, or the ghost of pity submerged deep down somewhere. “I’m going to the garden.” you tell him, leaving little time for questions to follow.

The garden out back is a well kept space, a little bare bones and mostly surviving off of potted plants. The flowerbeds are bare land and dry earth. You wonder if a shrub or two would do it good while you watch a bird swoop by overhead once, twice, thrice. You shift a bit, quite unsure of what to make of it as another joins it, then another and another and a flock comes to form paired with raucous chirping.

“Please just leave me alone.” you snap.

They do not. One by one they flutter after you as you navigate the grass and your tongue kisses your teeth. Your mind feels jumbled, your thoughts melting past your eyeballs. You turn. The birds scatter, then converge once more. “Leave.” you assert rather sullenly. “I’ll feed you later if that's what you want.”

There’s no response. “You don’t want food?” you ask.

It’s a flurry of wingbeats, of feathers. You’re seized with a murky sort of ugliness. It roves at your insides, it slathers on the floor. Envy is a green eyed thing, a little malicious, a little pathetic in its leering. Still, you can’t just grab at the birds, or break their wings ( it makes you feel unseeable, monstrous, wrong ), and you tell yourself it is what it is.

You sit yourself down on the grass. The earth smells fresh. You can feel the dew against your palms. Your fingers slide over your flight feathers, over the missing rows and the scarred tissue outlining an unclean cut. Your wings twitch. It still prickles there, the feel ebbing out as you let it be and focus on the rest. Your nightmare induced sleep tussled a few bits you still couldn’t reach, nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

The birds start to chatter. A few swoop past, to the footsteps on the patio. Jing Yuan silences the boisterous gathering with a short sigh and a throaty chuckle. It’s a deep, languid thing and he holds a finger out for one, letting it land blithely and pull at his turtleneck sleeve. “Good morning. Have you been treating our new friend well?” he asks. One lets out a disgruntled chirp. You could just make out the tattling edge to it and roll your eyes. Jing Yuan simply lets out a serene, “Ah, I see, I see.”

The footsteps grow closer. You flinch.

“Preening?” he enquires, attention drawn to the bird on his wrist for a moment. It settles back on you post wrestling his hem from its beak.

“Yes.”

He watches you rather intently.

“Do you need help?”

The thought of someone touching your wings dries your throat. You shake your head. “No thanks.” Jing Yuan, thankfully, does not push any further. You nudge your wings, letting them flap weakly against the earth; it barely stirs up a notable drought. The grass doesn’t even move that much. The birds that stayed circle you, alighting on your shoulder to peer with with their black-dew eyes, tweet and peer a little longer.

You tend to your other wing. Jing Yuan does not move, and his presence starts to grate at the underbelly more and more. “Do you need something?” you ask.

“The garden.” he nods. “I’ll need to tend to it soon. Could you help with the watering?”

You consider it. “I guess.” You huff, if it means sending him off sooner. “I’ve not done much tending before.”

Jing Yuan’s lips quirk. “It can be taught,” he says, a half tease edging the end of that sentence. “As long as you’re an eager student.”

He doesn’t move. You turn a little and survey him. He’s seated on the verandah, birds at his feet. Traitors, a part of you hisses. You dig into your feathers a bit too hard and the distressed chirping on your shoulder snaps you out of it. “Don’t judge me.” you mutter. “I don’t see why you’re so fond of him when he can just eat you.”

“That’s just offensive.” he laughs. “They’re too small to be that good of a meal anyway.”

“So you’ll eat the bigger ones then?”

He chuffs. “Maybe.”

You shouldn’t think too much of it. He’s poking away at you, maybe making a joke or two ( and a few unnecessary rags ) to fill in the silence that normally slides and settles. It’s natural, it’s to be expected. This is what normal people do and say and talk about. You need him to look anywhere else but here though; and that thought drives itself deep while you smoothen the pads of your thumb over your coverts, working away primary to medial, just as you were taught.

You really need a brush. Maybe some conditioner to make the cleaning easier. Your hands can barely work away so much out of it.

Jing Yuan’s eyes haven’t metered off to another source of interest in the garden. Even the feathered bodies tweeting for his attention can’t tear it away. Your nape burns beneath it. You might just melt and sift into the earth and settle over bedrock. He possibly doesn’t understand the reason for discomfort, or the breaching of something horrifically private all in all. Preening is normal to see in passing but under a level of scrutiny like this?

( You don’t know how to tell him it’s violating. )

Creep. You think, just as that voracity starts to uncover instinctive terror. It’s the easiest thing to think about, to focus on. It’s better than opening your damn mouth. Creep, creep, creep.

“You could get the supplies in.” you call out. “I’m almost done.”

Jing Yuan stands. The birds scatter. “Are you?” he mumbles. “Alright. Don’t run off.”

Don’t run off. You tense, you stay rooted. You let your wing go, shakily standing back up and dusting the grass off of your clothes. A proper bath was in order after this. A proper bath, a proper preening out of sight. Jing Yuan returns, hands you a watering can — “The tap is just past those bushes.” he advises while he pulls his gloves on and stifles a yawn.

You water while he weeds, stepping in time after him. Not too much for some, just a little more for others. Jing Yuan is a good teacher there, motioning to the sunned out plots. “It’s warmer out these days. Most of the water over there might evaporate so give those parts a bit more.”

“Right.” you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “And these ones?”

“These ones are hardier. The pothos on the patio won’t need much either. There isn’t a lot that could bother a plant like that — I've gone a few days without watering it to be fair.” You turn to the overhanging mass of vines. It seems as happy as a plant could be. “Still tense?” he jokes. The shine in his eyes seemed brighter. It’s light out, it’s probably just that — the sun in his irises, trapped and squirming.

You swallow. “I…I guess.”

Jing Yuan squints. “I won’t eat you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” he ends it with a short laugh. You don’t find it funny.

“I know.” you mumble, tipping the can forward. Some of the water drips at the edge of your sandals. You still, moving your grasp against the handle till you have a proper hold of it. Jing Yuan doesn’t say much. You wish it stays that way. You know it won’t. His tail is curling, and you guess he’s picking his next few sentences.

The earth upturns a bit. He nurses a small shoot back in place, gloves staining brown at the indents of his nails. “Is your room to your liking?”.

“It is.”

“That’s good.”

Is that all? You’re a little puzzled; the sudden shift in conversation isn’t unwelcome but Jing Yuan stays with his heavy silence. The earth upturns, the weeds come loose. You commend the efficiency ( he seems to have spent a long, long time doing this ).

“I noticed the other day…” there’s a lull to his voice, deep, thoughtful, sparse in its flourishing or humour. “Your wings are clipped, correct? A bit too deep, I’d guess, given the look of it.” Gold flits past your eyes, your cheek, the column of your neck and the curve of your shoulder. It’s on your wings now, tucked up close against your back.

You open your mouth. A single, strangled sound escapes. You close it.

“It is.” you swallow. You don’t think you want to pry his head open, to reach into his thoughts. You don’t want to see them.

Jing Yuan’s lips ease into a straight, solemn line. “I’ve seen a few with clipped wings before. Usually it’s from doting handlers. The ones who are afraid of a runaway bird and take a measure or two that border on questionable.” It’s punctuated with an exhale. You grapple at the ambience immersing itself over the line of your backs. Jing Yuan suddenly feels bigger than you’d like; a looming face, a swinging warning, the loose axe on a wall. You’re imagining it, you whisper. It comes off as a scream in your mind. It’s a desperate, quaking, teary eyed thing.

“Others tend to be a little more intentional. There’s none of that panic that induces a cut too deep — just impatience and built frustration one could say. Maybe even an inherent cruelty.” he finishes. Your knuckles ache into the vice-like clutch you have the can in. “Do you have a penchant for running away, little one?”

You square your shoulders. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m simply relaying the report.” Jing Yuan shrugs, the humour returning just a smidge. You still don’t think it’s funny. He knows. Fu Xuan knows. You were a little stupid to believe otherwise, and in a way, you should have expected it. They know, they know, they know. It’s fine. There’s nothing to it. You’re not falling apart on the inside. You’re not struck down and doubling into yourself like a scared, helpless idiot. You will tell yourself this lie over and over if you must.. “According to Fu Xuan, there was a bit of history there.”

You won’t run now. You won’t.

( You can’t. )

“History.” you repeat wearily and in ways it tugs at your bones. You can’t equate this to friendly conversation. You have an urge to rearrange your guts, to tear your feathers out. You have an urge to see the bare skin and crescents of blood underneath — it gnaws and shudders and bites and scathes and grazes and breathes at your hands. Your forehead is damp.

“Why are you asking me this?” you ask, swallowing back that lump growing at the back of your mouth. An acrid taste settles down, rotting at the insides, at your core. Jing Yuan casts a cursory glance your way and smiles. It’s sympathy dripping at the seams. It’s molasses and syrup and the too sweet things that make your insides churn.

“Are you scared?” he reworks that question again. You’re caught and pinned down by that stare, sweaty palmed and breathless. He clicks his tongue. “It’s just been the both of us — Fu Xuan and I. Trouble in this house…ah it’s an unnecessary bit of distraction I’d want to avoid. There’s plenty of other things I'd rather alleviate my boredom with…”

You’re stretched taut. “I won’t run.” you warble. “You…you can trust me on that. I won’t run away. Not again.”

You think it's a fruitless attempt. Your memories shutter — Fu Xuan's departure comes to mind, and the lulling call that followed. Fu Xuan's departure comes to mind ( and you realise you're alone with him. All alone. ).

He pulls his gloves free. They sit in with the rest of the weeds while he dust his hands down. “You won’t?” he challenges, he must be challenging you. Your heart jumps as the sting in your eyes starts to hurt. “You have a habit of taking off at odd hours, at least according to your old handlers.”

You don’t know half of it. That ugly part of you hisses as that urge to spring back, to scramble away and bury yourself into some dark crevice starts to grow louder and louder. You do not leave. You plant your feet down, stock still and stiff as a board ( and you feel pathetic when your throat tightens as he smiles in amusement — a burning inlaid with something so childishly angry ). You feign your indifference; it’s a messy mask cobbled together with see through seams and a chipped facade. You’re not fooling anyone with that.

“I didn’t want to.” You mumble. “I tried but — ” It’s easier to run, you think. It’s easier to run and hide and squirrel away last bits of hope you had left when that suffocating anger in their eyes pile and pile and pile.

Your lips sting under the dig of your teeth. The can tips. You think about drowning the plant, setting the water loose, tearing his garden apart to spite him in some way and let him seethe and hurt. You do none of that ( it’s not the welcome kind of anger, the acceptable kind ). “I’ve tried.” you echo, every syllable weighing down and clinging to the skin of your tongue. It’s a miserable, pathetic attempt at saving anything.

“I don’t deny that.” Jing Yuan tilts his head. “But I’m sure you know that hybrids with a streak of bad behaviour usually end up dead.” he relays gently. You are not placated. “We live in a world where your perspective of it all hardly matters in the face of it."

"I'm not stupid." you bare your teeth. You've rum, yes, but that was all to it. You'd run, you'd be caught, you'd be brought back cowed and broken and the cycle would continue as the faces changed and the houses changed. You would run and run and run, but never hurt. You've never hurt someone. Even when the tugging turned insistent and the hands were less kind.

( You'd stayed in a few. You'd stayed for them, when you'd linger on for a bit more fondness and affection. You were starved for it. )

You tell him so. It's half spat, just as that tumult starts to swell and blister and churn at your chest with cold, cold discomfort. He hardly flinches against it. You aren’t much of a threat to him. You know it. So does he.

The amusement in his stance is a palpable thing. Jing Yuan seems to have plenty to say, but it stiffens to a serious drawl, just as he hikes a knee up and languidly rests his arm across it. "I don't doubt that." He agrees. "However, Fu Xuan only just saved you from being put down. Perhaps you’re lucky that the man at the shelter cared more for a full wallet than protocol.”

You flinch. There’s a part of you that fractures at the surface. A deep cut in your mouth. the stern set to his jaw softens. You only hear one thing. “I was going to die?” you ask. Your voice is soft, a cut off whisper. You were going to die. You were going to die. You were sitting there in that line up waiting for it to take your breath and weaken your muscles.

“You were.” Jing Yuan nods.

“Oh.” you choke. It caves in.

( None of the birds come close to you. )

You hold your can hard enough for the metal to dig and hurt. Jing Yuan’s head bows a bit when the blood starts to show and you sniffle. “I wasn’t going to run” you insist and it’s this strained, desperate creature pulling your teeth and lungs. “I wasn’t.” And you can’t have him say anything about it ( the instance at the doorway starts to haunt you ). It was a glimpse outside, a momentary lapse. But you can’t screw this up. Not with the knife at your throat.

He nods. “Alright.” he assures you, and it weighs down. His smile feels wrong. You shake your head, cleaved in half, numbed at your fingertips.

“I wasn’t.” you repeat, feverishly. The can slips. You want to cave into yourself, to disappear elsewhere. You want to rip into your chest and give until your bones and flesh rot. Your breaths are laboured, painful. There’s a paced interval, a pain in your wings, the scatter of feathers. You want to cleanse yourself, to tear the nausea out.

You’re tugged to the house, struggling to keep pace as the tears come so easy. His scent, you had feverishly taken in, not all there with your thoughts. The place is steeped in it, layered and layered with newer rubbings that can never wash off. Jing Yuan had lived here a long time and ingrained himself down into the very plaster, the foundations, Fu Xuan herself. You jerk away from it. He steadies you, the world spinning as you’re turned.

Jing Yuan sits you down on the sofa. You curl, curl in smaller and smaller and wail. He does not touch you, lowering his voice to a soothing pitch. You scream. You almost claw your eyes out as they burn against the tears. You almost ruptured through the cavity of your trunk to silence the deafening drum of your heartbeat. You don’t think you'd have tasted something so violent, rooting itself through the sickened spread of mycelium pressed under stink and rot. You didn’t think you had it settled inside at all to begin with.

"Calm down." there was a weight over your head, his whisper, something pulling over your shoulders. It smells of detergent, of a fresh wash and you bury yourself into the cotton-wool sheet. "You poor thing. Deep breathes in now."

It shakes you more than you want to admit with the coming of new weariness, that you were a bit too far gone for this sort of care at all. And he bears it, his arm mangled below the wrist and you let go, horror seeping in as the light makes its slow paced return.

He smiles at you. There’s patience there, warm at the corners, still so hungry. ( But you’re too tired to struggle out of the maw. You stay inside and hope he won’t bite. )

It hurts you more than it should.

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#📼 — entries.#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #star rail #jingyuan #hsr #tw. dubcon #tw. yandere #tw. m/dni #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #📌 . verse ; the bird hunter's song.

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razbrry · 11 months ago

Note

i don’t remember if i requested this already but may i request an nsfw scenario where cisfem reader and grelle get steamy in the office pls?

note— yes yes yes 30x yes!! imagine grell in this ... she is so majestic i can’t. mama mama mamaaa.—☆💋💄

rated: smut! includes: (risky sex, riding, nipple play, biting, drawing blood??? a little, noisy&needy grell :3) WLW

tire out— ft. grell sutcliff w/c: 864

the office was dimly lit, filled with the quiet hum of paperwork being processed and cinematic records being sorted. grell, ever the vibrant death connoisseur, strutted among her office, files in hand.

“honestly, darling… they’re just piling up today… like a mountain of paperwork!” she tuts, prompting a snort from you.

“your job is ridiculous.”

“pardon?!”

a tense silence follows her gasp as you try to find the right wording.

“treating human souls like mere paperwork is so oddly dehumanizing, don’t you think? it’s funny.”

“well, dear, that’s the whole point,” she collapses onto the chair at her desk, spinning around on it idly. “us reapers have to do repeat that process to revise the cinematic records then to find if they’re worthy of death.. ughhhh… *so* exhausting.”

her rambling was nothing short of endearing, that’s for sure. grell throws hear head back, leaning back on her chair dramatically. she sneaks a peek at you, who stands over her desk, lost in thought.

“did you hear me?”

“your bitch and complain? yeah, i did.”

grell’s eyebrows furrow.

“oh, you wound me! you have no idea how *exhausted* i ammmm….” she trails off, giving you another hinting side eye.

you bite back a chuckle, taking the hint too well before sitting right upon her desk while simultaneously pushing aside her paperwork.

“oh yeah? how exhausted?”

like a moth to a flame, grell finally sits straight on her chair, her thighs clutching shut at your purr.

“quite… quite exhausted yes,” her ears flush along with her glasses lightly slipping down that bridge of her nose.

so gorgeous.

you run your hands through her long, fiery hair before tugging her in.

“you couldn’t use any extra exhausting, could you?”

your voice was lightly taunting with a gentle pout to your lips, down to your working fingers that teasingly trace her open collarbone, thanks to grell’s classy striped blouse.

the reapers green eyes sparkle with delight before looking around in a tiny excited panic.

“i could certainly use a change of pace…”

before you two knew it, you were straddling grell in her chair, your hands roaming freely against her chest. you could feel grell's breath hitch as you settled yourself on her lap, her crimson painted nails digging lightly into the fabric of your clothes.

you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear. "let's see if i can help with that exhaustion," you whispered, your hand slipping down to unbutton her trousers.

grell's eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling with anticipation as your hand found its way to her already stiffened cock. "darling..." she breathed, her voice a mix of desire and desperation.

you began to stroke her slowly, savoring the way her body reacted to your touch. her hips bucked against your hand, seeking more friction. "so needy, grell," you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

her response was a low, throaty moan as you increased your pace, her grip on your waist tightening. you could feel her getting closer, her breath coming in ragged gasps. her teeth sink down on your neck, initiating a sharp stinging sensation that made you cry out in a miserable attempt to be quiet. just when she was on the brink, you slowed down, drawing a frustrated muffled whine from her.

"patience, love," you cooed, your fingers now tracing her collarbone and slipping beneath her blouse to tease her pretty pink nipples. grell withdrew her mouth from you, proudly tasting a hint of your blood from that harsh bite.

"please," she begged, her voice cracking slightly.

you couldn't resist any longer. standing up briefly, you lowered tugged down her panties lightly. you straddled her again, guiding her inside your cunt with a slow, deliberate movement that had you both groaning in unison.

as you settled into a steady rhythm, you leaned back, allowing your fingers to play with her nipples. grell's head lolled back against the chair, her hands clutching at your hips as you rode her.

the office was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the papers and cinematic records forgotten. you kept your movements slow, savoring every sensation, while your hands continued to tease her sensitive nipples.

"how’s that feel, sweetheart?" you murmured, your voice dripping with tenderness.

"so good," she gasped, her hands gripping your thighs as she tried to maintain control. "don't stop... please..."

you quickened your pace slightly, bouncing on her lap and letting out a couple of squeaks here and then…

“dear… o-oh dear, m’ gonna… ngh! cumming…” grell whines onto your neck, her thighs quivering uncontrollably. “shh, lower it down, baby,” you murmur as you oush her face onto your cleavage to muffle her up.

with a final, deep thrust, you both found release, your bodies trembling together in the aftermath. as you collapsed against her, grell's arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

"you certainly know how to... change the pace," she panted, a satisfied smile on her lips.

you chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips. "anything for you, darling. now, about that paperwork..."

grell groaned playfully, her head falling back against the chair. "later," she murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. "much later."

. . .

#grell sutcliff #lowkey crashed out writing this #black butler #black butler manga #kuroshitsuji #grell x reader #black butler fanfiction #grell sutcliff headcanons #grell #grell black butler #black butler hcs #grell scenario #grell sutcliff smut #black butler smut #grell sutcliff scenario #grell kuroshitsuji #black butler grell #kuroshitsuji grell #wlw

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takamimami · 9 months ago

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Like a Moth to a Flame

Pairing: Eustass Kidd + f!Reader + Roronoa Zoro (no use of y/n)

Where are my Zoro/Kidd lovers?!? I'm sick and this is what I spent my day sitting on my couch typing. 11 pages of straight debauchery. Enjoy :3

CW: SMUT, a literal fever dream bear with me, threesome, cunnilingus, deepthroating, rough sex, Zoro is a meanie :3, cuckolding, yes Kidd gets cucked, lots of teasing, slight power play dynamics, dom/sub vibes all around, Zoro calls you 'pretty girl', Kidd calls you 'angel' --- word count: 4.7k

🔞NSFW; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS KEEP IT MOVING🔞

Summary: Eustass Kidd doesn't own you - doesn't belong to you nor do you belong to him, and he certainly doesn't care what you choose to do with your free time..... unless it happens to not be him. How will he handle you taking someone from an ally crew to bed? The answer: not well. OR Maybe Eustass Kidd just needs to see you get your guts rearranged in order to realize that he does, in fact, give a shit about you.

From the moment he saw you talking to the Straw Hat’s swordsmen, Kidd could tell that something in him piqued your interest. He’d seen it the first time the two of you interacted after the alliance was formed - the way you seemed to gravitate toward him as everyone discussed strategy and tactics, the way you smirked every time Zoro’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they did anyone else as everyone recounted their experiences during the raid. And now Kidd watched as his suspicions were confirmed, noting how you pressed your shoulders back and your chest against his arm as the two of you sipped sake together.

Kidd could feel himself growing restless as the festivities began to wind down for the night, ready to retire back to the comfort of his ship. As he finishes the last of the drink in his hand he scans the crowd for his lot, eyes settling back on you as you continue to get cozy with the pirate hunter.

He waves a hand in Killer’s direction as he stands and walks toward you, your eyes flicking to him as he saunters over. You quirk a brow at him and unconsciously pull away from Zoro, the action not unnoticed by the swordsman as he flicks his eyes between you and Kid.

You didn’t know where you stood with your captain anymore, you knew he preferred to have you warm his bed rather than a nameless face, and his drunken rambles made you privy to the fact that there may be more to your relationship than just being his crew mate. But what the two of you had was fun, simple, and most importantly, not messy. Neither of you had any expectations of the other one, yet the underlying sense of loyalty you felt to Kidd was always in the back of your mind, never wanting to make him question your intentions.

As he approached he grinned at Zoro, his eyes flicking down to your chest, and then down to where your thigh pressed against his, lingering there for a moment before coming back up to meet Zoro’s gaze.

“You two look cozy,” he chuckles, and you can sense an undertone you don’t often hear from your captain in his words. “We’re heading back to the ship, see to it she makes it back safely.”

Kidd’s eyes remain locked on Zoro, the command weighing heavy in the air as he turns on his heel without offering you a glance. He disappears into the night and you feel Zoro’s hand shift on your waist, his eyes finally moving back to you once Kidd’s presence dissipated.

“Your captain doesn’t handle jealousy well, does he?”

You raised a brow at Zoro’s question, taking a sip of sake before offering a reply.

“To be fair, Kidd doesn’t handle any emotion well,” you start, giggling lightly at the presumption, “But I don’t think he was jealous. He’s probably not thrilled at the idea of me getting “cozy” with a Straw Hat.”

Zoro offers you a sideways look, grinning as he takes a sip of his own sake. You watch the bob of his throat as he gulps down the liquid, the flex of his neck muscles hypnotizing you.

“Is everyone in your crew emotionally dense, or is it just the two of you?”

You feign offense to his suggestion, but he continues before you can offer a rebuttal.

“He’s clearly territorial over you, why else would he only check on you before leaving for the night?”

The concept was not lost on you as you let his words sink in, feeling his gaze on you intently as you contemplated what to say.

Zoro notes your lack of response, swirling his glass a few times before continuing, “Maybe its just a male thing, but I’ve noticed it ever since the first time you spoke to me. You may not notice it because it’s normal for you, but I do - the constant checking up on you, the stares that linger a bit too long, the way he tenses if you smile at anyone that’s not him.”

You nod your head, still processing his comments, “Very observant, Mr. Swordsman.”

He lets out a single chuckle before raising his glass for another drink.

“Does that worry you?”

Zoro’s arm hesitates as he brings his sake glass back to his lips, a devilish smirk curling on his lips before he finishes the drink. The hand around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush to his side, craning his neck down so his face is close enough for you to feel the tickle of his breath as he lets out a chuckle.

“Not at all.”

His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, though the kiss is as harsh as you were craving it to feel as he closes the distance between the two of you completely, his tongue wasting no time and immediately prodding at your lips. They part for him willingly as you taste the sake on his tongue, his scent flooding your senses due to his proximity. You rest your hand on his broad chest, feeling the muscles underneath your hand flex and relax as you settle into his embrace. The kiss quickly heats up and you find yourself biting down on his bottom lip, to which he pulls away and stares into your glossy eyes, his own hazy eyes dark with desire.

“And what about you, hm?” he croons, nuzzling his nose into your chin as he leans down to pepper kisses along your jaw. “You said yourself that you’re captain doesn’t handle his emotions well.” You feel your back arch and your body lean into him as he moves down to your neck, his kisses growing slopier the lower he goes.

“Are you willing to risk his wrath for one night of fun?”

You moan as the idea flashes through your mind, the two of you tangled in the sheets, his hard sculpted body pressed against you as you both explore each other. It was unspoken between the two of you, but deep down you both knew things would never go beyond this fleeting moment. Your loyalties to your captains were woven too deeply into your beings to ever consider anything more.

“Or, is that what you want?” Zoro smiles against the skin of your neck, biting and sucking down on the tender skin above your jugular before detaching his teeth and licking over the abused area. “You love pissing him off, don’t you?”

You feel heat rush straight to your core as you squeeze your legs together, the truth of his words causing a moan to escape your mouth as he continues his assault on your neck. He traces his hand up from the middle of your back to pull at the hair on the nape of your neck, exposing more of your neck to him and earning a deeper moan in response.

You can feel his smile widen at your reaction, the lack of a rebuttal telling him all he needed to know as he pulls away from your neck reluctantly.

“Shall we?”

His invitation doesn’t need any further explanation, his lust-filled eyes watching you as you stand and turn toward the pier. You can feel Zoro’s eyes on you the entire walk to the Victoria Punk, though the closer you get to the ship the faster your heart beats at the thought of what was to come.

You ascend the gangway and immediately scan the deck, relieved to only see a few crew members lingering in the darkness. You reach back and tug Zoro’s arm, trying to make your way to one of the communal rooms without being spotted.

You duck into the room quickly, not noticing that Kidd had spotted you the second you stepped onto the deck. He noted your flushed face and how you kept your gaze low before turning back to the drink he was nursing, cursing lowly to himself for even caring what you did in your spare time.

“Leave it you freaks to have a designated sex room on board your ship,” he teases, cocking a grin as he spins around to look at you.

“Actually,” you say pressing the door shut with your heel, taking his jab as a compliment, “We have three.”

As you spun around and locked the door you felt Zoro’s looming presence surround you, turning and finding him hovering over you patiently, almost as if waiting for permission. You bite your bottom lip and lean against the door, and that seems to be the invitation he was waiting for because he swiftly closes the gap between the two of you, lifting you by the back of your legs and pressing you against the door.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he claims your mouth, this kiss more fervent than the previous one. His hands tug your legs around his waist before roaming elsewhere, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he traces the contours of your body.

A needy buck of his hips has you tugging at his clothes, craving more of his touch with each passing second. His large hands reach up and cup the mounds of your breasts, kneading them roughly as he grinds his considerable length into you again, this time deliberately teasing you.

“Zoro, please,” you moan into his mouth, the sound louder than you intended it to be.

He smiles cockily as he pulls away from you, feeling accomplished in having gotten you riled up already.

“Shhhhh pretty girl,” he croons, “Gonna have your whole crew listening to you beg for my cock if you’re not careful.”

A damp heat pools in your core as he grinds himself into you again, testing if that was in fact your plan. The moan you let slip through your lips is slightly quieter this time, but not enough to disprove his suspicions. One more thrust of his hips has you ready to beg him again but instead, he pulls away from your body, still holding you against the door as he drops to his knees before you.

You look down at him with heavy lids as he pulls at the waistband of your bottoms, pulling them and your panties down your legs and leaving you bare before him. The sinful way he licks his lips as your cheeks flush, and you barely have a second to process his actions as he lifts your legs over his shoulders. He supports the entire weight of your body as you’re pinned to the wall, your back arching at the first swipe of his tongue through your wet folds.

He hums at the taste of you, burying his face in deeper as you brace yourself against the door with one hand, the other tangling in his green locks as you bite down on your lip to hold in your moans. You’re only successful in doing so until he prods a finger at your entrance, and then the sudden stretch of his finger has your mouth falling open, allowing a throaty moan to escape you and vibrate the walls of the room. He quickly adds a second finger and curls them along the spongy wall near your entrance, causing you to press your head back against the door as his tongue dances circles around your clit. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you fight to maintain your composure, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter as you yank at Zoro’s hair, earning a grunt of approval from him.

“C’mon, pretty girl, let ‘em hear you,” he purrs before attaching his lips back to your clit, and you feel him wrap his free hand around your hip to hold you in place as you feel that cord inside you snap. You let out a string of curses as your orgasm ripples through your body, your moans morphing into whimpers as Zoro works you through it, his eyes watching you as you fall apart for him.

With a satisfied smirk, he pulls away from you once your hips have stilled, his chin dripping with your arousal as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles devilishly, and Gods you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen anything more sinful.

He gently pulls your legs from his shoulders, making sure you’re steady before pulling away from you, walking over towards the bed as he tugs at the remainder of his clothes.

You hear a faint sound on the other side of the door, but the chiseled naked body in front of you pulls your attention right back as Zoro turns and sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes beckoning you forward as you push yourself away from the door and make your way over to him.

He’s fisting his cock as you strut over to him, pulling your top over your head and discarding it across the room as you reach him and situate yourself in between his thighs. He hisses as you place your hand over his, pulling his hand back as you run your fingers over the swollen and weeping tip of his cock. You spread the precum down his shaft as you begin to work him gently with your hands, keeping your face teasingly close to him as he watches you through his lashes. His heavy lids fall completely closed when you give in and finally wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around it a few times before running it along the thick vein that runs along the underside, your eyes holding his gaze the entire time.

Just as you take him in your mouth fully you feel his body shift, but before you can pull back and inspect him or inquire further he grips the top of your head and presses you down further, a mumbled moan of surprise escaping both of you as he tickles the back of your throat. You screw your eyes shut, willing yourself to take more of him as you begin bobbing your head up and down on him, earning a hiss of approval. Whatever distracted him seemingly hadn’t been important enough to mention, so you continue your ministrations as you feel a needy pulse begin to pool in your core once more.

Zoro’s grunts begin to fill the room as he presses you further and further down his cock, pushing you to your limits until your gag reflex is triggered and you sputter and gag against his length.

“Fuck, just like that, pretty girl,” he praises, and gag reflex be damned, you slacken your jaw and allow him to press even further into your throat, his hips raising off the bed slightly as he fucks into you. His hand on your head holds you in place as you feel your airway being restricted, trying desperately to breathe in through your nose for some sense of release. In a cruel act of dominance, Zoro notices your struggling and pinches your nose, holding himself deep in your throat as your ears start to ring from the lack of oxygen. Just as you think you’re going to pass out you dig your nails into his thighs and he lets you come up for air, sputtering and coughing as you pull away from him and try to ground yourself again.

You wipe the spit from your face and chin as you look up at him through bleary eyes, the same devilish grin on his face as his chest rises and falls, seemingly equally out of breath from the intensity of the moment.

“I see why your captain likes you so much,” he purrs, leaning down to grab the back of your head and pull you up into his lap, his erection pressing against your thigh as he kisses you sloppily.

“Is he always this nosy when you bring men back to the ship?”

The question immediately makes your stomach drop, your head flinging to the door as you see a shadow underneath the door, your eyes wide as you start to piece together the signs.

Kidd wasn’t sure why he was still standing outside the door, unsure why for the life of him he couldn’t make his legs work and retreat to the confines of his cabin. His intention of walking over here was to stop you before you got too far into the act, to see if, for some Gods’ forsaken reason, he could convince you not to sleep with someone who wasn’t him tonight.

But instead when he reached for the door handle, his Observation Haki triggered, and it was like he could see right inside the room - see how the swordsman had you pinned against the door, feasting on you like you were the first thing he’d tasted all day, and the way your body was practically singing for him.

At first, he convinced himself it was jealousy - that the alcohol was going straight to his dick, and all he wanted was to charge in there and rip you away from him. But then, when he rested his forehead against the wall next to the door, he could sense the change in Zoro’s demeanor, as if he knew Kidd was standing outside the door.

That made Kidd realize the bastard was goading him, and this was confirmed for Kidd the minute those last words left Zoro’s mouth.

You were still staring at the door in shock as Zoro brought his head down to your chest, taking a nipple in between his lips as he hums in amusement.

“Tell him he’s welcome to come watch if that’s what he’s into,” he teases, pulling you around so you’re on the edge of the bed.

You whip your head around to look at him, realizing he’s serious as he pats your ass and nudges you off the bed, motioning you towards the door. Your legs work before your brain has any time to process, and sure enough, as you open the door, there he is.

His eyes roam over your naked body hungrily, and you feel the heat pooling between your legs as he bites his lip, unable to say anything.

“Come in,” you squeak out, and his eyes widen at your request.

“Is that what you want?” his nostrils flare as he speaks, eyes flicking over to Zoro, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed with a smug grin on his face.

You can only nod, a smirk curling up on your lips as you suddenly feel emboldened by the current power dynamic playing out before you. You walk over to Kidd, pulling at his coat as you push him back into the chair in the corner of the room.

“Sit.” The command leaves your mouth and, for once, Kidd listens to you with no argument.

His cheeks flare into a blush as Zoro chuckles behind you, and you turn around and make your way back to him, hitching a leg over his and straddling him.

“I didn’t take you as a cuck, Captain Kidd,” Zoro’s taunts. Kidd grunts from the other side of the room, his lip curling up into a snarl even though he keeps his eyes trained on your every movement.

“Fuck you,” he growls out, unable to refrain from snapping back.

You look over your shoulder at Kidd in warning, and you swear you see his eyes soften ever so slightly before you turn back to Zoro, who in return grabs you by the hips and turns you around. You’re now facing Kidd, each of your legs on the outside of Zoro’s as he pulls you down into his lap, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times as Kidd watches from the chair.

You notice the growing tent in Kidd’s pants, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as Zoro lifts your hips slightly to line himself at your entrance. He leans forward, nipping a bite on your shoulder before bringing his lips up to your ear,

“You gonna show me why your captain loves this pretty little pussy so much?”

You nearly moan just from the filthy words in your ear, and nod your head as you sink down onto his cock, your eyes staring holes into Kidd’s as your lips fall open once he’s fully seated inside you.

Zoro growls into your ear and offers you little time to adjust to him, his strong arms lifting you up and guiding you along his length as he brings his hand around to trace gentle circles on your still-sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you begin to bounce in his lap, the squelching sound of him moving in and out of you accompanied by the slapping of your skin filling the room as you maintain Kidd’s gaze. Every second he looks at you has that knot tightening in your stomach, and you feel yourself growing impossibly wetter from the mixture of the lewd noises and Kidd’s gaze searing into you. Zoro’s cock presses deep inside you, your velvet walls clamping around him as he increases the pressure he’s applying to your clit, earning a strangled cry from you as you struggle to stay grounded.

Zoro leans back and gives you a few deep thrusts of his hips before he repositions you, pulling out of your wetness with a grunt as he walks you over to the corner of the room where Kidd is sitting. You feel a foot on the back of your knees and they immediately buckle, your body now kneeling before Kidd as he sits in the chair, his erection pressing painfully against its confinement.

Zoro drops to his knees behind you and grabs your hair, pressing your face into Kidd’s lap as he thrusts into you greedily, the sensation becoming too much for you as you try to hide your face in Kidd’s thigh. But Zoro notices and tugs your hair, craning your neck back so you’re forced to look up at Kidd, whose eyes are a fiery shade of amber you’ve never seen before.

He pistons in and out of you a few times before pulling you up so your back is flush to his chest, and he runs his tongue up the base of your neck to your ear, his raspy voice making your back arch into his thrust needily.

“Want you to suck your captain’s cock while I fuck you stupid, pretty girl,” he pants, dropping you back into Kidd’s lap as you frantically struggle with his belt.

Kidd’s lips curl slightly as he eyes Zoro skeptically, his eyes flicking back to you instantly as soon as you free him from his briefs.

You lick your lips before taking him in your mouth, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Zoro’s speed decreases, matching the rhythm of your head bobbing up and down Kidd’s length as Kidd throws his head back. He lets out a throaty groan as you take most of him in your mouth, reaching down to fondle his balls like you know he loves, his hands making their way to your hair to goad you further down his cock.

A particularly sharp snap of Zoro’s hips has your mouth moaning around Kidd, and you feel his cock twitch from the sensation. He presses you to the base of his cock, your eyes watering as you sputter and gag from how far you’re deepthroating him. As he lets you up for air, Zoro tugs you up by the shoulder, pounding into you quicker as he seeks to force you over the edge again.

“Tell him how good I feel,” he growls, and your eyes flicker to Kidd’s immediately, his hand fisting his cock as he watches the lewd scene before him.

His eyes meet your intense gaze, and you avert your eyes to drop your chin as you struggle to find the words.

“H-his cock feels so good, Captain,” you whine, and Kidd thinks he might come just from the desperation in your voice.

Zoro chuckles, reaching over to grab your chin between his fingers and yanking your head back up. You’re convinced your body is going to combust as he sharpens his thrusts, your eyes meeting Kidd’s again.

“Tell him again.”

The sound that leaves your mouth has both men’s lips curling into smirks, and that knot in your stomach tightens again from the new angle of Zoro’s thrusts.

“His cock feels so, fucking, good, Captain!”

You’re sure your cries can be heard all throughout the ship, but you can’t find a morsel of your body that cares as your vision begins to blur.

Kidd shifts forward in his seat, finally unable to handle the lack of control, and grabs your chin into his own hand, snatching your cheeks from Zoro’s grip and bringing his face down to yours.

“You wanna come, hmm?” Kidd purrs, and you feel the tears begin to stream down your cheeks as he watches you intently.

You nod and manage to choke out a feeble ‘yes please’ and he tightens his grip on your chin, his nose almost touching yours.

He grunts in response, his eyes flashing up to Zoro, who looks like he’s beginning to struggle to maintain his composure.

“You come inside her, and I swear to god you won’t leave this ship alive,” he snarls, the possessiveness in his tone going straight to your cunt as you feel yourself clamp down around Zoro.

His response is also a grunt, his eyes screwing shut at the feeling of your walls starting to flutter around him.

Kidd smiles cockily, finally feeling a bit more in control as he looks back down to you, your tear-stained cheeks making his cock ache.

“Come on his cock, angel. Show him how pretty you sing for me.”

Kidd knows he’s end is near, so he lets you rest your head on his thigh as he pumps himself. You’re the first one to break, your pussy tightening like a vice around Zoro as the cord in your core snaps, waves of euphoria crashing over you as your moans fill and vibrate through the room.

Zoro fucks into you for as long as he can manage, but before long his pace turns erratic and he reluctantly pulls out of your velvet walls to spill himself on your back. His grunts echo behind you as he pumps himself dry, Kidd’s own groans and grunts pulling your attention as he comes undone moments later. A few ropes of his cum land on your face as you struggle to catch your breath, the smell of musk and sex permeating the air as you slowly come back down from your high. When you finally open your eyes and lift your head, Kidd is watching you with a softness you weren’t used to seeing from him, and you wipe the remainder of his release from your face as you climb up his limp body, peppering wet kisses along his chest and neck until you meet his lips.

The kiss feels familiar, but at the same time, there’s an unfamiliar desperation in the way Kidd’s mouth moves against yours that has your mind spinning a mile a minute. Regardless, you can’t help but feel at home in his arms, your sweat-slick bodies melding together like they were made to be that way.

You don’t notice Zoro standing and dressing himself, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he moves towards the door.

Kidd looks around you to eye the swordsman as he opens the door, “Hey! Don’t go running your mouth about what happened here tonight!”

You swat at Kidd’s chest as Zoro raises his hand, swearing himself to keep this secret between them.

“Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding,” he chuckles as he grabs his swords and walks out of the room, your body tensing at the insinuation.

“Not a chance in hell,” Kidd groans, flicking his wrist to force the door shut and locking it again, lifting you and carrying you to the bed with him.

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that Kidd didn’t refute the idea of marrying you to notice the look in his eyes as he hovers over you, sinking his hips into yours for what would surely be an impossibly long night for the both of you.

My hands are sweaty, that is all I have to say :3 lemme know what you thought, and if you liked it, I would love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the love <3 ✨come say hai :3✨ 100 FOLLOWERS EVENT

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apathygender · 1 year ago

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For the love of god do not start making up silly little headcanons and shit for a dumb gacha game

#moth ramble #This has been a note to self about #space battleship Yamato or whatever is called

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thewintersoldatt · 1 year ago

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SORRY, NOT SORRY -RAFE CAMERON

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!listener

Summary: Rafe can be a “good” boyfriend when he wants to be… with a sprinkle of manipulation of course.

Warnings: Naughty language, Fluff low-key from our toxic daddy, ft. JJ being a chaotic mess.

notes: This audio is set during 1x05. Instead of it being midsummer's, it's the listeners birthday! I've been working on this all week and I'm tired of listening to it on repeat, so if something doesn't add up, it's because I got lazy. And I wish Rafe told me he loved me. 😭

word count: Its audio, my panties are wet and so are yours.

Scene one

JJ: Ah, would you look at this! It's our birthday girl!

You: What are you doing here?

Our cutie patootie rambles on then walks off with the security guard.

During this pause count to about 6 or 7.

You: What the hell did you guys do to his face?

Rafe: We didn't do anything… his face was like that when he…showed up.

You: Well, why did you guys corner him in here?

Rafe: We were just making sure... he knew his place. And that he's not allowed here. If anything, we were doing you and your parents a favor, I mean, god knows what he already took.

You: You promised me you wouldn’t start anything tonight, Rafe.

Rafe: Can you give us a minute? I'd like to talk to my girlfriend... alone, so get out. Alright, um, can I speak first since you wanna do this right now?

You: Go ahead.

Rafe: How long have you lived here?

You: I was born here.

Rafe: Yes you were born here, but where - where did you grow up?

You: Figure 8.

Rafe: Yes, you grew up on Figure 8. And where did... our pal JJ grow up?

You: The cut.

Rafe: The Cut. and that's exactly my point, baby. We're kooks. And... what is JJ again?

You: Jesus, Rafe don't start-

Rafe: Come on, you wanna talk, let’s talk. What about communication? Isn’t that what we're supposed to be working on?

Count to 3 during this pause.

You: He’s a pouge.

Rafe: See that wasn't so hard, now was it? Now, let me make something clear, and stop me if you get a little confused - you and me. We’re practically royalty on this island. We’re together for a reason. And before you saying, yes I do love you. I always have and I always will. You’re mine. You’re it for me, sweetheart. And… you’re a kook. So, start acting like one before I do something about it, mkay?

You: God, you’re a dick you know that? How about you leave too.

Rafe: Ugh, look I’m sorry, alright? It’s just… it’s just when I saw him on the patio talking to Sarah I lost it. This is supposed to be your day and I didn’t want him ruining it. Kind of like when… uh… we switched out the coke with flour and gave it to Top because he ate your cupcakes.

You: And how is that relevant to this?

Rafe: It’s sorta the same thing. You - you worked hard on those. Uh, he ate them. I was pissed because they were for me. And you were upset because I wanted to punch him in the throat. Tomato, tomahto. Blah, blah, blah. See you’re smiling, I love it when you smile.

You: You’re such a sap.

Rafe: I love you.

You: I love you too.

Rafe: And again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene, I just didn’t know how else to get him to leave. You know how JJ and his friends are. All of them are drawn to us like a moth to a flame. Now, uh, can we put this behind us and get back to the party?

You: Thats the smartest thing that’s come out of your fat mouth all night, baby.

Rafe: By the way, I really do think he took something from your bedroom.

You: What?

Rafe: I saw him come down from the hallway, unless he took something from your dad’s office?

You: You’re serious?

Rafe: As a heart attack.

You: But… I’ve never done anything to him.

Rafe: That’s what they do though. You should know this by now. They butter you up, just to take whatever they can right from under our noses. It’s sick, if I’m being honest.

You: So much for trying to be civil.

Rafe: I know, yeah, I’ll talk to your dad, and um, see what we can do. But for now, let’s go celebrate. It’s not everyday someone turns 17.

@rafesapologist @rvfecamerons @sadfury @rafesthroatbaby @rafesaddiction @hockeybabe87 @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @secretly-tumb1r @kingkylie444 @stayonmars @maybankswhore @barbiiecams @princessmisery666 @ilovebarrykeoghan

If you would like to be tagged, I gotchu sis.

#drew starkey #ai generated #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #i’m in love #my original post #my original writing #enjoy the audio

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miley1442111 · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!

I know its probably too soon but im obsessed with "i dont even know you anymore" but one of these days could you make a continuation with the reader and aaron getting close and the team sees it and they are all cute and he treats her like a gentleman (with a bit of age gap because...its just right).

Thank you, and i totally get it if you dont want to do it and want it to be just a "stand alone".

Xoxo😘

omg I love this idea!!!! i hope i did it justice :)

i don't even know you anymore- s.reid /a.hotchner

a/n: intended for fem or male reader, so imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you can get past your break up with Spencer, especially with Aaron by your side, right?

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader, brokenupspencer reid x reader

warnings: general angst, cheating and breaking up, general fighting, kissing, emotional stuff

PART 1

4 moths post-breakup

It had been a gruelling 4 months. You had moved out of Spencer and your shared apartment, much to his disappointment. You had broken up with him the morning after, knowing you wouldn’t have felt secure in the relationship had it gone on. Emily, your best friend on the team, had been letting you live with her and she had told Aaron. It was clear as day to everyone that Aaron had a soft spot for you. As the youngest on the team (you were the same age as Spencer, just a few months younger), he felt it was his duty. He’d always step in if a superior was belittling you, always step up if an officer was flirting with or objectifying you when Spencer was too busy to notice, and he had reached out after the breakup, telling you that he could reassign you if you wanted, but urged you to stay on the team since you were such an asset.

Your text conversations started with that, and slowly evolved into daily conversations about anything. Cute photos of Jack, funny jokes that soon turned into inside jokes, ideas on cases, and plans to get coffee. Your daily texts from Aaron, the support from Emily and the team, and the knowledge that you’d done the right thing for yourself, made the shitty time easier. What wasn’t easy was Spencer's daily ‘apology coffee’. He’d get you a coffee from your favourite coffee shop and write a sticky note, begging to even just talk. It was becoming soul-shattering how sad he constantly looked. A part of you wanted to run back to him and just be there for him, but you knew it’d only cause you pain. Jj refused to talk to you unless it was about a case, or to chew you out over Spencer’s devastated state and her now failing marriage at least once a week. You’d reached out to Will, assuming he’d known. He hadn’t, and now he was taking the kids. You felt bad, truly, and you wished you hadn’t said anything, but there’s only so much someone can do. You’d told Jj the second it happened and apologised profusely. Did she curse you out over the phone? Yes. Did she say Spencer never truly loved you? Yes.

But did any of that fix her marriage? No.

Cases and days passed uneventfully, full of blood, guts, and longing glances from Spencer. You had started going apartment hunting recently and you felt better. You felt like yourself again.

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

6 months post-breakup

This case was particularly difficult, the unSub was targeting women of your exact description, and you had been chosen to go undercover- your least favourite pastime.

“You don’t have to do this, you know that right?” Derek asked as he watched you turn your mic on.

“Who else is? He needs to be stopped.”

“You don’t have to be the one to stop him, his behaviour isn’t escalating-” Spencer had budded in but you held up a hand to silence him. His rambling used to make you feel special because you were the only one who truly listened to him. You never cut him off or said something back-handed. You never made it a joke. Now his rambling felt bitter and silly to your ears, a reminder of just how stupid you’d been.

“I’ll be fine,” You sighed. “I’ve done this before, right?”

Derek nodded and pulled you into a quick hug. Spencer tried to pull you in for a hug but you dodged him, wanting to get all of this over with. You hated being undercover. It made you feel powerless and objectified.

“Agent?” Aaron coughed out and you stared in his direction. “Can I have a word?”

“Sure,” you shrugged and followed him into an empty interrogation room. “Planning on interrogating me?”

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, letting his guard down as he had so many times in the past few months. He had opened up about so much. He had opened up about Haley’s death, about how bad of a parent he feels, anything. He even let you come over and have a movie night with him and Jack once a week. Jack falls asleep halfway through and Aaron puts him to bed and you pick a movie that isn’t about paw patrol or trolls. Though you enjoy watching those all the same. Jack cuddles up to you and smiles at you until he falls asleep. It’s adorable.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine, don’t worry Aaron,” you smiled, taking his hand. “I’m trained for this, right?”

“I’ll be right there,” he promised. “Say the word and we’ll come in.”

“I know,” you chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I promise,” You smiled and kissed his cheek, leaving the room swiftly after.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being undercover was just about as terrible as you thought it would be. The unSub was an asshole, of course he was- he was murdering women. But he was a particular kind of asshole, the kind that takes women down for their insecurities so that he could lure them to him. He was verbally degrading you and if you were being yourself, you would’ve talked back. But, you were undercover and playing a college student.

And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was when Spencer came in, acting as your ‘boyfriend’ to get him away, ruining the only chance you had at capturing the guy. You slumped against your seat in the SUV as Spencer attempted to justify his actions to the rest of the team outside the car.

“I thought he was going to-” He was speaking a mile a minute, but stopped when Aaron put his hand up.

“Do you have any idea what you just jeopardised?” He boomed, calm but clearly angry. “That was the closest we have ever been to him, and now he knows your face Spencer. He also knows Y/n’s face. He knows you're with the FBI and he knows we’re looking for him! Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“Hotch I’m sorry I-I was worried-” he tried to apologise but Aaron cut him off again.

“Spencer, we were all worried about Y/n. Every single one of us. But you have to remember that she’s a trained agent, and that she’s not your girlfriend anymore,” Aaron stormed off to the other car with Dave trailing behind as the rest of the team stood there, shocked.

“This is all your fault Y/N!” Jj provoked. “None of this would’ve happened if you didn’t make it such a big deal!”

You rolled your eyes and put on your headphones, the want to leave the team grew stronger everyday. You hated Spencer. You hated Jj. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

“Listen to me!” Jj urged and you just turned your music up as Emily and Derek began defending you.

Jj shoved you, and it was the last straw. You got up and out of the car. You knocked in Aaron’s window in the next car and he rolled it down. “Can I come with you two?”

They both nodded and Aaron opened his door, allowing you to climb in.

“What’s going on?” Dave asked after a moment of silence.

“The end of my time with the BAU. I’m leaving,” you sighed, not looking at Aaron. You’d technically gone over his head and went straight to Strauss, but you didn’t care. You weren't going to change your mind on this, and you didn’t want him to try.

“That’s very sad news,” Dave sighed. “You’re a great asset to this team.”

“I’m just dividing it. There’s no need for me to cause this much trouble. Spencer would’ve never gone in if he didn’t think he was ‘saving’ our relationship, Jj would be more focused on work and there would be less tension. I’m so sick of everyone picking a side. It’s not fair.”

“But you shouldn’t have to leave, this doesn’t need to happen-” Aaron started but Dave cut him off.

“You're doing a very kind thing for people that probably don’t deserve it,” Dave sighed. “Where are you planning on going after?”

“I don’t know yet,” You shrugged and saw Aaron practically deflate.

“You have no plan?” He asked, clearly concerned.

“No? I have a law degree, I might go into that, or I’ll just join another department at Quantico. I don’t have everything mapped out right now Aaron.”

Aaron remained with a hardened look on his face the rest of the ride to the airport. The tension in the air was palpable and, to be honest, you were sick of it. You just wanted this to be over with. It was draining, and taking a toll on you mentally. Any breakup would, but this breakup included the team. The most important people to you were forced to pick a side and chose who was in the wrong or right. Jj and some others from the office had picked Spencer’s side, saying it was unfair that you didn’t hear him out. Whereas Penelope, Emily, Aaron, Dave, Derek, and the rest of the office took your side, saying it was wrong to kiss someone else, especially a mutual friend and coworker, and someone he’d admitted to having a serious crush on. You were done. You were leaving.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

8 months post-breakup

Honestly, not being on the BAU had some getting used to. Your team had been your family for so long that being without them felt strange. You had been reassigned to the Criminal Justice Information Services Division, or CJIS for short. You’d moved a whole 4 and half hours away from Quantico, much to the team's chagrin. You loved it there, it was a nice change. Though, you missed your weekly movie nights at Aaron’s (those now had to be turned monthly), you missed your daily catch-ups with Emily which had to be moved over facetime, since you didn’t live down the block from each other anymore, and you missed being a profiler. You missed Pen, David and Derek, you even kind of missed Jj.

A knock sounded at your door and you instantly got up and smiled, opening it without even looking. “Jack!” You wrapped the little boy up in a large hug and felt him giggle into your shoulder. You heard Aaron’s laughter and looked up at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as a small greeting. Jack wrangled himself out of your arms and began to run inside your house, desperate to eat the freshly popped popcorn you always made for him.

“Hi honey,” Aaron smiled, pulling you in for a hug. His nicknames always made you feel special, your favourite being ‘honey’. You thought it sounded more romantic and endearing than other nicknames. Not that you thought of Aaron in a romantic way. Never. You wouldn’t. Not even when he picked Jack up with ease, a t-shirt on to show the swell of his biceps. Not when he crept his arm around you during movies. Definitely not when we helped you cook in the kitchen, for example, when you made bread. He looked so-

You pushed those feelings out of your head.

“Hey Aaron,” you smiled as he pulled away. “How are you?”

“I’m fine thank you, how are you?” He asked, a small smile on his face.

“I’m good, I love my new department,” You beamed, though this topic was clearly a sore one for Aaron. His body language changed, he was more rigid, more tense.

“That's good,” he deadpanned. “The BAU misses you.”

“I miss them too,” you chuckled, reminiscing on better times. “Send them my love, will you?”

“Of course, honey,” he smiled again as he saw you get flustered.

The night went off as usual, Jack falling asleep immediately, putting him to bed in your guest bedroom, watching a movie, cleaning up, making out with Aaron on your couch- wait, what?

There you were, making out with Aaron on your couch. The tension had finally broken and now, his hands were on your waist as you straddled his legs, kissing him feverishly.

“I want you,” Aaron rasped. “I want you as my girlfriend.”

You pulled away, catching your breath. “Seriously?”

He nodded and kissed you again, even more forceful than last time.

“I’m yours,” you said in between kisses.

“You’re mine.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

12 months post-breakup

Dating Aaron had been bliss. He was the perfect gentleman in every way, and he was perfect for you. You loved him. He loved you. He had also convinced you to come up to Quantico to see the team. Something that was becoming increasingly real as you stepped foot inside the bullpen and saw everyone’s faces. Spencer looked elated to see you, it was a full year since you’d broken up and maybe he was healed? Derek looked excited to see you, as did Penelope, David, Emily, and, of course, Aaron. He walked over and pulled you into a hug and smiled, happy that you were doing this. Penelope ran over next, then Emily, David, Derek and, finally, Spencer. Jj was nowhere to be seen- probably a good thing.

“It’s so good to see you, I didn’t realise you were coming back-” He rambled but you cut him off.

“I’m not coming back, I just came to say hi to everyone,” you smiled. “Aaron convinced me.”

Aaron tried to hide his smirk with his hand but it didn’t work well, and looking at Spencer, you’d think he was being faced with the most horrific challenge of his life.

“You’re who Aaron’s dating,” Spencer stated and there was a collective gasp from the office. You looked to Aaron in panic and he nodded.

“Yes, we are dating,” Aaron said, the focus turning to him. “It’s only new so I’d really like for everyone to calm do-”

“How could you do that to me?” Spencer turned to you, sounding broken-hearted. “You go after Hotch to make me, what? Jealous? To make me want you again? I’ve always wanted you, I’ll always want you! You don’t want him, you want me.”

“Spencer, I’m dating Aaron because I love him. Me and you are history, it happened a year ago!”

“It was a 3 year long relationship, you don’t just get over it in a few months,” Spencer seethed.

“Yeah, it took me a long time, but I am over it.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer stormed off, clearly upset but no one went after him. The rest of your visit was filled with catching up with people, laughter, and a nice dinner. You and Aaron went back to his house, since you didn’t feel like driving the 4 and half hours home. As you went inside, you saw Jessica, she smiled at you as you caught up, then left when you were done talking. She had been watching Jack and put him to sleep, meaning you and Aaron had the house practically to yourselves. You noticed Aaron had been acting off since the confrontation with Spencer, you assumed it was anger but no, it was something else. You grabbed his hand and sat him on the couch, sitting beside him.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, a hand running through his hair.

“About what?” he chuckled, though it lacked humour and life.

“About what’s wrong.”

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed. “I understood Spencer’s point. You shouldn’t want me. I’m not exactly in the prime of my life, I have a child, I’m not exactly up to going clubbing or things like that. You should be with someone your own age. Someone like Spencer-”

“Spencer cheated on me. Aaron, I love you. I love you so much. You’re the most handsome, caring, and loving person I’ve ever met, you’re a brilliant dad, you and I both know I wouldn’t go clubbing either way, and you’re very proficient in other forms of exertion so I wouldn't worry about that. I love you Aaron. You.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, a kiss that soon turned heated. You knew he understood you. You knew he heard you. And you knew you’d be ok.

You loved him, he loved you.

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

#aaron hotchner x reader #bau team #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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tmntxthings · 9 months ago

Text

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lasting impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line once more.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall again. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

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