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wcnderlnds · 2 days ago

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dizzy [ part four ] ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: its the third day of seunghyun's week in la, your time there almost over. at his third event, he has an idea that leaves you both feeling some type of way. ・❥・word count: 2.4k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. vibrating panties, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, swearing, a little dirty talk kinda. ・❥・ authors note: its 3.30am but i wanted to get this out okay bye. idk how good this so im sorry if it sucks.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

“Baby, come on, I have to go,” Seunghyun protested but made no real move to tear himself away from you. He was dressed, glasses and all, ready to go to rehearsals for Tudum but you had other plans. The second you’d watched him walk out of the bathroom looking like a whole five course meal, you couldn’t help yourself. You had pulled him back onto the bed, attaching your lips to his neck. There were already red marks forming on his skin where you’d been nibbling at his skin. Very, very reluctantly, he managed to pull away from you. The pout on your face was almost enough to make him cave and spend the rest of the morning in bed with you but he had a job to do.

“Fine,” you huffed, laying back in the bed with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll be here waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m sure you can bear to be without me for a few hours,” he laughed, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Behave and I’ll see you soon.”

“No promises on the whole behaving thing but have fun.”

He gave you one last sweet kiss before leaving you alone. As much as you hated to see him leave, you were so happy that he was excited to actually go out and work. It had been so long since he’d had such a busy week, you hadn’t really known what to expect. It had only been a couple of days but the Seunghyun from the first day was a stark contrast to the one now. That first day he’d been nervous, almost overwhelmed but now? He had that confidence about him, cracking his jokes and being a little shit. You could only imagine how he’d be tomorrow at Tudum.

You were just happy to see your husband thriving. Nobody in the world deserved this more than him. This was his moment and you were just along for the ride. You yawned, stretching your arms out taking a glance at the time on your phone. It was still early so instead of waiting around bored for Seunghyun to come back, you decided a nap was in order.

Meanwhile, Seunghyun was having a hard time concentrating. His eyes poured over his script through his glasses, looking like he was solely focused on that when it couldn’t be further from the truth. The feeling of your lips still lingered, the mere thought of it was getting him hard again. He couldn’t afford that right now. He needed to lock in. It was hard (pun intended) when all he could think about was you.

His mind drifted off, thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you when he got back to the hotel but then he remembered something. He’d specifically packed a pair of vibrating panties for you. They’d originally been bought as a joke a couple of months ago but one night, you’d had a conversation about how you’d like to try them; the opportunity had just never presented itself until now. Seunghyun smirked to himself as he thought about the perfect way to put them to use.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It had definitely been a mistake agreeing to this.

When Seunghyun had asked you if you wanted to wear the panties and finally put them to use, you had been more than up for it. What was life without a little excitement? Knowing he would be in control of them all night was such a thrill. What you had completely forgot to remember was that this was Seunghyun – the biggest tease on the planet. He would take any chance he got to be a little shit and, boy, was he really living up to that.

The first test had been in the car ride over. He’d pressed the button and instantly you’d had to clench your thighs together, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. Seunghyun’s lips had quirked up at the corners, ideas already forming in his head.

Now, he was standing taking photos, one of his hands in his pocket as he played around with the settings. At first he’d set it to be slow, giving you a chance to breathe but he kept ramping it up and you were a mess as you stood watching him. It was the most difficult thing trying to act like nothing was wrong when in reality you were a wet, frustrated mess. To everyone else, it looked like he was just posing innocently but you knew the truth. He was being a menace, driving you to the brink of orgasm then pulling it away from you all with the touch of a remote control button.

During the event, he let you have a moment without teasing you but it was too late already. You were already too worked up, craving relief. So, the moment Seunghyun stepped off stage, you quickly followed him into the backstage area to his dressing room. You weren’t even sure he’d seen you but when he turned around with a grin on his face, you realised he had. You presseed your back against the door taking a deep breath in to steady yourself.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Seunghyun asked innocently, leaning back against the dressing table – that shit eating grin still on his face. You wanted to march over there and wipe it off his face but the state you were in, you couldn’t do anything but stand there, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Seunghyun, please. I’m going insane,” you were almost pleading with him. What you didn’t notice was that his hand had slipped into his jacket pocket where he’d been keeping the remote. He, once again, pressed the button and this time you let out a loud whimper.

He loved seeing you like this, so desperate, so overtaken by pleasure that you couldn’t control yourself. The second you’d give him permission to use the remote, he’d been turned on but now seeing you practically a whimpering, whining mess, he was hard as a rock. He couldn’t take it anymore either. He reached out, tugging on your arm to pull you into his hard chest. His lips were on yours in an instant, his hands all over you as he manoeuvred you around to push you over the dressing table. He pushed your head down so you were bent over the wooden furniture.

“You’re lucky I’m in no mood to tease you right now,” he said, grinding his clothed erection against your ass. “I’m going to fuck you so good, baby. You deserve it.”

He pulled your panties off swiftly down your legs to pool at your ankles. His fingers slid along your folds, groaning how wet you were. You were practically dripping. He popped the button on his pants, unzipping the zip and freeing himself enough to pull his cock out. His hands gripped at your hips, holding you in place as he pushed himself inside you. He groaned at how easily he slid in, his hips flush against yours as he bottomed out. He didn’t even take a moment to bask in how good it felt, instead he immediately began thrusting his hips into you. He pulled out, pushing back in, setting a relentlelss pace. If you were desperate then Seunghyun was right there with you.

“Oh God, Seunghyun,” you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the edge of the table for something to hold onto as he rutted into you.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.” He then caught his reflection in the mirror, the image of him fucking you searing into his memory. It was then an idea struck him. In a deep, commanding voice, he spoke his next words. “Eyes up and look in the mirror while I fuck you. Don’t you dare look away.”

You obeyed immediately, lifting your head up to watch, your eyes meeting his in the reflection. You moaned at how good he looked pounding into you from behind. You felt your walls clench at the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes rolling back completely consumed by pleasure. “I’m so close.”

Just as Seunghyun was about to speak, there was a knock at the door. It was someone calling for him. He apparently needed to go back out there to meet fans and take more pictures. He leaned over your back, his hips never relenting as he whispered in your ear. “Be quiet, princess. Wouldn’t want to get caught now, would we?”

You thought maybe he’d stopped but he didn’t. If anything he began to move faster. As he shouted back that he’d be out in a minute, one of his hands moved to slap your ass, grasping the flesh as it landed. You couldn’t help the moan that tore from your throat but Seunghyun acted quickly, moving his hand around to cover your mouth. The thrill of almost getting caught must have done something for you because he felt you tighten around him. Knowing that he needed to get back out there, he took this as his cue to finish you off. He pulled on your hair, tugging your head back as he thrust into you harder. The quiet grunts coming from him were your end. You practically screamed, the sound muffled by his hand as you came, your body shaking from the force of your release. He stilled, his own orgasm hitting him as he poured himself inside you. A couple more shallow throats and he pulled out from you. He leaned over you pressing a tender kiss to your neck, his fingers moved to pull your panties back into place.

He tucked himself back into his pants. He glanced in the mirror seeing his flushed face and messy hair. So, he used his hands to smooth it back into place, running them over his suit too to make sure there were no crinkles or evidence of your little get together.

“I have to go but I’ll come find you once I’m finished,” Seunghyun pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He hated to leave right after having sex but this was one of those moments where he had no choice.

When he left the room, you stayed behind for a moment to collect yourself. It was a miracle you could even walk right now. With a few shaky steps, you made your way out of the room and into the main area where everyone was. Seunghyun was over with the rest of the cast, taking photographs and looking picture perfect. It was almost like he hadn’t just given you one of the best fucks of your life in his dressing room.

Watching him from afar, an idea struck you. All you needed was a chance to get him alone and away from people. That moment happened when you saw him heading towards the bathroom. Quickly, you caught up to him, grabbing his hand and yanking him into one of the bathroom stalls. It caught him off guard, his eyes almost widening comically as you pushed him against the stall wall.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, watching with hooded eyes as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“Rewarding you for what happened in the dressing room,” you smiled up at him cheekily, popping the button open on his pants and tugging them down. His boxers came next, freeing his cock. He was already half hard thanks to your boldness. You wrapped your hand around him, pumping him to get him nice and hard for you.

“I have to get back out there,” he said breathlessly.

“I’ll be quick.”

You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, sucking a little which caused him to groan quietly. He knew he had to keep quiet, you were in a public bathroom but with the way your mouth was already working him, he knew there was no hope for him. Especially not when your tongue licked a stripe on the underside of his dick causing him to shiver, his hands instinctively reaching down to tangle in your hair, slightly pushing your head towards his length. You took the cue, taking him in your mouth as far as you could go, hollowing your cheeks out. He watched your every movement. You pulled back off him with a pop, spitting on him so you could take him deeper. As you put him back in your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, you heard someone come into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room – someone obviously coming in to wash their hands. You bobbed your head fast which caused Seunghyun to let out a strangled groan. So, you pulled off him again much to his dismay.

“Gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want someone to catch us,” you mocked his words from earlier. Once again you took him back in your mouth, bobbing your head along his cock. Seunghyun couldn’t take the way you were looking up at him through your lashes, the sight of him inside your mouth and the way he was hitting the back of your throat with each movement enough to send him spiralling. He let out a long, loud moan, bringing his fist up to his mouth to bite onto it to stifle the sound. His other hand held you in place as he shot his load down your throat.

You swallowed every drop you could, pulling off him and using the back of your hand to wipe any remnants from your lips. Rising to your feet, you cupped his cheek, patting it a little. “Good boy.”

Seunghyun took in a deep breath, his eyes closed as he came back down to Earth. With shaky hands he pulled his clothes back up. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“That’s your fault for wearing those glasses with that suit. Are you trying to kill me or something?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands finding their place on your waist. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day.”

“Are you satisfied now or am I going to have to take you back to the hotel and keep this going?”

“Mhm. I don’t know. Depends what you have in mind.”

Seunghyun only laughed, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. The fact that tomorrow was your last day in Los Angeles made him feel a little sad but he already knew this was one of his favourite trips ever.

Just one more day to go.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib @moontabi @loonybunny1

#choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun smut #bigbang x reader #my fics

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ofstarsandvibranium · 6 hours ago

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Given the World

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: You like to bring little souvenirs for Bob whenever you travel for a mission.

Marvel Masterlist

You and Bucky were assigned as security detail for a senator in Hawaii. Being part of the new Avengers, you expected various kinds of missions, especially when Val was the orchestrator of the group. Being part of security was the tamest mission you could receive and you were gonna be in Hawaii for a month? Easy.

What wasn't going to be easy was leaving Bob.

You and he were in this weird kind of limbo. You two started off as friends, then the more you hung out with each other, you became best friends. Then, on a random night where you two were cuddled up and watching a movie, you two kissed and confessed your feelings for each other.

You two never put a label on it, but you were together. You didn't say you were exclusive, but you were. There were times you wanted to have the "what are we?" talk but every time you got close to it, you chickened out.

Yeah, you can punch, stab, and kick your way out of any situation, but feelings? Fuck. Feelings were hard and you didn't know how to navigate that.

But still, you tried to show Bob your feelings through other means, and that was through gifts.

Bob still wasn't cleared to go on missions, so he had to stay at the Watch Tower while you and the others travelled all over the world, helping people.

You brought him various keychains, mugs, plushies, books, etc.. You'd take pictures and send them to him. Anything to show that you thought of him.

Now with the Hawaii mission, you started thinking of what little things you could potentially bring back for him.

Even now, as you pack and Bob watches you do so from your bed, you think of him.

"Maybe a book? You said you liked history so maybe I can find a book about some of the local history? Oh!" you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk, "What about a coconut?"

He snorts, "You wanna bring me back a coconut?"

"I'm trying to think out of the box here! I'm trying to stray away from all the keychains, mugs, and magnets-"

"I like all of my keychains, mugs, and magnets."

You sit at the edge of your bed with a pout, "I wanna try to get you something different."

He softly smiles at you and scoots closer to sit beside, "I'll love whatever you bring back for me. Even if you don't bring back anything at all, knowing that you want to bring me back something is enough. You know I appreciate you regardless."

You nod and let out a deep exhale, "I know, but I always feel bad about leaving you here. I want you to experience everything I do."

"I will eventually. Once I get my powers in control and don't let the other guy out, I'll be out there with you, defending senators and civilians alike."

You snort and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, "At least I'm going with Bucky. Aside from you, he and I get along the best." You then move away, heading back to your open suitcase on the floor.

"A month long mission with a handsome super soldier in paradise. Yeah, that's the dream right there," Bob says it with a playful smile, but you see it in his eyes: the insecurity.

You look at him with a sad frown. You hate how ingrained his self-doubt is in him.

"I promise you, nothing will happen."

He clears his throat and nervously rubs his hands on his sweatpants, "No yeah. I know. It was just joke."

"Robby," you say his nickname softly as you approach him again, sitting on his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you stare into his eyes, "I'm interested in no one but you. I have feelings, really strong feelings, for no one, but you."

"I know," he replies softly and he looks away in shame, "I'm sorry." He takes hold of your hips to help ground himself.

"I understand. It's okay," you give him a quick kiss on the lips, "I got you."

"I got you," he repeats back to you.

You both rest your foreheads against one another and sit in silence. You listen to his breathing, you feel his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he whispers, "and if you don't feel the same, it's okay. Because I'll still love you even if you don't love me."

You chuckle, "How can I not love you, Robert Reynolds, when you're all that I think about? Is your collection of souvenirs not proof of how much I care about you? Doesn't matter if I'm one mile away or one thousand, you're on my mind and being away from you for a month is going to be hell for me."

His lips perk up into a small smile, "Is it bad that I kind of find it comforting that you'll be as much as a wreck as me when you're away?"

You throw your head back in laughter, "Absolutely not."

His laughter joins yours and you feel yourself feel lighter. You suppose feelings aren't that scary after all.

____________________________

Bucky smirks at you as you and he follow Senator Collins and her husband around Aloha Stadium. It's a free day for the senator and he and her husband wanted to do some touristy things around the island.

You and Bucky follow her along with her regular security detail. However, your attention is divided between work and all the different trinkets you can buy Bob. Already your tote bag is filled with some funny t-shirts and a hat woven from palm leaves.

Bucky found it amusing and adorable how often you were straying from the group to buy something new for yourself or Bob.

"We're supposed to be working."

"I'm paying attention!" Your bag looks even heavier now.

Bucky snorts, "You trying to bring the whole island to him or something?"

"Gift giving is one of my love languages. Leave me alone."

"Love, eh?" he cocks a brow at you, "So you two made things official official?"

You nod, "He said it first. He was feeling insecure about me being here with you for a whole month. I reassured him that I'm not interested in anyone but him and then he told me he loves me."

Bucky grimaces, "He thinks you and I-"

"I know, right. As if you're not madly in love with Sam."

"...I'm not madly in love with him."

"Suuuure, Buck. Anyway, all of this," you pat your tote bag, "is just me bringing back some of the world to Bob, because he deserves it."

The super soldier chuckles and shakes his head, "You two are disgustingly cute."

_________________________

You dump out two tote bags filled with gifts for Bob. He looks at the pile on his bed and then at you, "Honey-"

"I was on an island for a month and they had cool things! Look," you hold up a palm tree figure, "I know you don't smoke anymore, but this is a palm tree bong and I thought it was hilarious. So I bought it for you."

Bob looks at you in confusion and amusement, "I-Well alright then."

"I swear that's the weirdest thing I bought for you. Everything else is pretty tame."

Bob grabs a t-shirt and unfolds it. He snorts and reads it, "'I got lei'd in Hawaii'?" He laughs and tosses the shirt onto the bed, "You're lucky I love you, because that's horrible," he says pulling you to sit on his lap, "Thank you though. I appreciate all the gifts and I'm happy you're back."

"You're welcome and same. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here with you," you peck his lips and hold him tight.

Bob will never tell you, but he thinks the best thing the world has given him, was you.

#bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fic #bob reynolds fic #robert reynolds fic

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lysarion · 1 day ago

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━━━━━━ of logic and dance ⟢

♱ | anaxa was not one who willingly admitted to his wrongs. but not with you; not when he spent three weeks losing himself at the thought of you dancing with someone else.

�� including ⠀! ⠀anaxa ◟ 𖤝 warnings ⠀! ⠀modern/college au, long fic ( 10k words send help ), word vomit, potential-ooc

❝ tags ⚜ . if you'd like to be tagged please send me an ask off-anon!!!

theoretically speaking, was it possible to see someone in a different light in just three weeks when you’ve spent your entire life disliking them?

the past anaxa would argue—without skipping a beat—that no, it was not possible. the sheer notion of a measly three weeks crumbling a philosophy a genius spent their entire life cultivating felt absurd. but now, he’s been proven wrong. and to add more salt to the wound, it was you who bested him in this argument.

to understand the suffering anaxa has gone through, we must first take a few steps back—specifically, three weeks ago when a pesky junior had put his name inside a ballot box for aglaea’s dancing competition as a joke.

anaxa was fuming. to put his name inside a random mystery box was one thing, but to have him be picked and participate in an art he was unfamiliar with was another. phainon spent the majority of his tuesday trying to escape from anaxa’s lividness. barely squeezing by when the said man was hunting him down like a poacher in the forest. to some, the sight may be endearing—anaxa did have a tendency to dote on phainon—but the snow-haired junior would argue.

and that’s how anaxa found you; patting down phainon’s hair as you shook your head in disapproval in his direction. anaxa’s mood sours further, a permanent scowl etched on his face as he demanded you to hand over the sulking boy behind you. phainon was just about ready to bolt out the room when suddenly, aglaea entered the room. an amused but barely noticeable smile on her face has anaxa’s skin rattled with goosebumps.

“thank you, phainon, for doing my job for me. this certainly saves me the trouble,” the blonde woman said, much to the trio’s question. aglaea cleared her throat, “now that everyone is present, i must congratulate you, [name] and anaxa, for being chosen as this year's representatives.”

“surely you jest, aglaea,” anaxa chimed in, irritation lacing his voice as he stepped closer to said woman. “i clearly remember the rules stating that the students chosen must be willing to participate. if you could not tell, i am not—in the slightest—willing.”

normally, a glare from anaxa would send even the terror professors of this university running with their tails in between their legs—but never aglaea. be it from the immeasurable amount of time they have spent together trying to one-up the other since pre-school, or simply the strange connection they have since childhood, it is an undeniable fact that even the great anaxa loses to aglaea.

aglaea only smiled, “yes, that is true. but i’m afraid i will have to make an exception this time. after all, due to your misgivings in one of the labs, the number of willing candidates have dwindled.” anaxa’s brow twitched in annoyance as you crossed your arms over your chest, much to aglaea’s amusement. “therefore, me and the teachers have decided, your participation in this event will be considered your punishment.”

and thus began anaxa’s three week long journey of being your dance partner.

— the first week.

much to agalea’s expectations, your chemistry with anaxa was nonexistent.

his logic and bluntness clashed with your more free-willed and creativeness. she heaved another sigh as you lectured anaxa on his hand placement and stiffness—if she imagined it hard enough, steam would be leaking out of your ears as your face turned a few shades red in frustration.

“it has been almost four hours!” you exclaimed in exasperation, throwing your hands up before they dragged down your face in defeat. “aglaea surely you agree with me that this is hopeless—he’s hopeless!”

anaxa scoffed and raised his head with a sneer. “hopeless in this situation does not describe me—it is you who’s hopeless. there is no subject i can’t master. the fault lies with the teacher.”

“excuse me?” you huffed out in offense. you strutted to his direction, boldly invading anaxa’s personal space, reveling in his slight flinch, and jabbed a finger to his chest. “there is no one i cannot teach, for your information. it’s not my fault you can’t understand the common principle of dance—a simple waltz.”

“if it’s so simple, why have we not made any progress?” he argued back, flicking your finger at his chest at the same time and glowered at you. “do not think of yourself as high and mighty just because you are the only chosen instructor in this university. compared to other dancers i have witnessed, you pale in comparison to them.”

“that’s quite enough from the both of you!”

anaxa watched in disapproval as your debate was cut short by aglaea’s intervention. he clicked his tongue, crossed his arms over his chest and walked past you to speak face to face with aglaea. “see? this just proves that this entire endeavor is meaningless. you cannot expect me to cooperate with someone so…” anaxa paused. he let out an infuriated breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, “insufferable. clearly our views are too different and neither of us are willing to compromise. go chat with mnestia and cerces and reach a consensus for a different punishment.”

aglaea sighed. her nimble fingers massaged her temple as her eyes come to a close, “and i vividly remember telling you that this is final. no more discussions. honestly anaxa, i thought you were better than this. of all things, i never expected this to be your tipping point.”

red eyes glared at aglaea, “watch it goldweaver.”

“enough,” she waved off anaxa and pushed past him, much to his dismay. aglaea called out your name—a lot softer this time, might he add—and announced, “both you, go home and cool off. we’ll try again tomorrow. i expect you both to be a little more amiable until then, understood?”

you only looked away and nodded, biting down on the words you did not trust yourself to say and simply gathered your bags. anaxa noticed your downcast gaze and the way your thumb rubbed at your elbow or the way your foot tapped incessantly on the smooth wooden floor. he clicked his tongue in annoyance and begrudgingly collected his things from the ground before he dashed out of the exit. he would deal with this tomorrow.

but when tomorrow eventually comes, anaxa found himself a unable to pay attention in class. lectures on his favorite topics such as history on alchemical transmutation, ancient theology, hell even simple subjects such as literature or readings, anaxa could not bring himself to pay them any mind. not when he's busy watching the choreo you submitted to the group chat last night.

anaxa clicked his tongue in annoyance. no, he was absolutely fuming because aglaea was right and you had proved him wrong.

your choreography was nothing short of dumbfounding—it was incredible in every sense from rhythm, energy, grace, and oh how anaxa hated to admit it, you evoked emotions so evidently with just a sway of a hand.

“now what has gotten you so glum?” a teasing voice with an equally teasing expression invaded anaxa's vision. he sneered in distraught having been caught by professor cerces—his mentor and detested guardian—in the acts of his exasperation.

he shoved his phone back in his bag and flipped his textbook senselessly, ignoring cerces’ presence as she took a seat by her lecture table. “it's none of your business.”

“i'd argue it is my business,” cerces rebutted. “i am one of the teachers who agreed on this punishment.”

anaxa looked up from his textbook to glare at the professor who only intertwined her fingers together. when a beat of silence passed, anaxa rolled his eyes in annoyance before his attention redirected itself onto his blank paper—not a single drop of graphite gracing its surface.

“child of reason, i have a question.”

“i’ll have you know i have no interest in your pointless inquiries.”

cerces smirked and leaned forward, the slight tilt of her head has anaxa's fingers quaking with aggravation. “oh but isn't that the point of it all? to ask questions even if they are pointless? what use is that curiosity of yours if you won't find opportunities to use it?”

another pause, the atmosphere continued to thicken. anaxa was the first to conceive with a heavy sigh. he cradled his head with one hand while the other picked up the stray pencil on his desk to tap it on his blank paper. “well? out with it already, i don't have all day.”

“ever the rude student,” cerces murmured with vexation. “well whatever, this is you we're talking about. now for my question,” she paused and unlaced her fingers to open the laptop on her desk. “i'm curious, what crime has poor [name] committed for you to dislike them so?”

anaxa stilled. of all the questions he hypothesized cerces would ask, this was not one of them. his brows furrowed further. he'd solved more complex formulas and memorized great philosophies in his sleep—so why couldn't he decipher you?

“when have i…” he muttered before his mouth snapped shut. he shook his head and massaged his temple before snapping back to his actual self. “and what good will knowing my reasons do?”

“oh, i don't know, help with your poor chemistry on the dance floor?”

another click of his tongue, and anaxa loudly gathered his things.

“and where do you think you're going?” she asked. “you still haven't answered my question, anaxa.”

“why don't you use your brain to pick apart my answer? you always seemed to do that, so why not do it again?” anaxa quipped, a certain kind of venom dripped from the skin of tongue.

cerces quietly watched as anaxa haphazardly threw his items in his bag and ungraciously slinged it over his shoulder. the professor heaved out a long sigh as she said, "so you're giving up after one attempt? how unlike you, anaxa.”

said man was halfway out the lecture room when he heard cerces' musing. the grip on the door handle tightened under his hand—knuckles turning snow white. “i am not giving up, you inadequate professor. there is no field i cannot master.”

aglaea mused, ‘something changed,’ but she's not quite sure what during rehearsals. sure, you're still at each other's throats—but there's a strange, sudden synchronicity in the way you moved. as if a switch had been flipped, anaxa was more compliant with your advice and you held your sharp tongue and lectures. (aglaea found great amusement in you making funny faces when anaxa was not looking—incredibly childish but your only outlet for frustration).

aglaea knew she was right—something had changed. she just didn't know how deep the crack ran.

there was this strange awkwardness to you, too, though she can't quite name it. yes, you held your back your sharp words more frequently, but aglaea can't help but wonder if there was more to it. she noticed—she always does—the way you looked at anaxa as if you wanted to say something, but you would back out before you could get the chance.

but she doesn't blame you for your cowardice—it was well expected. anaxa seemed more irritated than usual. he was quieter, more introspective but not in a good way. his eyes tracked your movement in quiet precision as if he's dissecting your being alive. there was a quiet yet turbulent kind of curiosity whenever his hand touched your bare back—the muscles in his fingers flexing uncomfortably as if he's been burned. anaxa's expression would shift from one of nonchalce to that of pain whenever you're too close for comfort. and aglaea found it painfully ironic—this field required you both to be close.

skin to skin; breath on breath. anaxa was being pushed to his limits while you pretended to revel in the situation.

— the second week.

“lovely mnestia has told me you've finally grasped the choreo,” cerces said as she walked side by side with anaxa who kept his face passive. “i'm relieved you managed to overcome a hurdle in such a short amount of time.”

anaxa scoffed, half offended half arrogant as he mused, “i told you, haven't i? there is no field i cannot master.”

“yes, yes i know. you've said the same line thrice in the span of a week. your arrogance truly knows no bounds.” the professor replied in annoyance. “how is [name] doing nowadays?”

“why do you ask?” anaxa raised a brow as cerces unlocked the lecture hall. being a professor's mentee had its own pros and cons, one of those pros being able to spend a couple hours in peace and quiet before other students arrive.

cerces looked at him in bewilderment. in turn, anaxa looked at her as if she's grown two heads. the professor sighed with a small shake of her head. “aglaea told me the poor child's feet has been hurting, badly might i add. just from your first week alone the clinic's band-aid supply has run out.”

anaxa's eyes widened involuntarily, “when was this?”

“did you not hear me at all?” cerces quipped. “since the first week, child of reason. i'm surprised you didn't notice.”

anaxa was surprised as well. for the entire week, you had moved with such proficiency—lectured with such fervor—he wouldn't think twice to ask if you were doing all right. and he cursed himself inwardly. not because he was worried, but because your character is slipping through his fingers like sand—you weren't even giving him the ability to hold on to something.

a click of his tongue and he's dropped all his things at his usual desk.

“anaxa, where are you going?” cerces asked with quiet curiosity as anaxa made a beeline out of the room.

“it's none of your business, professor.”

and that’s how anaxa came to be, outside your lecture hall with a grimace on his face, arms crossed. you were rightfully confused. you tried to side step his figure but anaxa would move in coordination with your movements and blocked the exit.

“oh so now you show me some foot coordination?” you snarled.

anaxa only rolled his eyes as his arms slowly dropped from his chest to his side. a lone eye unwittingly glazed over your foot as he muttered, “shouldn’t you be resting?”

your brows knit together, “well i was about to—until you decided to be an annoyance and block my way to the dorms.”

anaxa clicked his tongue—both in annoyance but mostly in embarrassment—as he moved away from the exit and let you pass. though he didn’t quite leave you alone just yet. the both of you walked in awkward and tense silence. anaxa was the first to break the delicate blanket over the both of you when he noticed you taking a turn that did not, in fact, lead to the dorms.

he grabbed your wrist—you noticed the way not all his fingers wrapped around your flesh, just like how he kept a few fingers up whenever he dipped you low during dance rehearsals. “and where do you think you’re going?” anaxa asked with a deep frown. he jabbed a finger to his left, “if i recall, the dorms are that way.”

you sighed, shaking your head as you felt an oncoming headache form. anaxa watched in quiet frustration and interest as you looked at anything but him. a finger gingerly scratched your cheek as you mutter quietly enough for him to mishear—but nothing escapes him.

“i’m getting bandages,” you muttered.

anaxa’s frown deepened—all five fingers now circled your wrist without him flinching away from the touch of your skin. “and from where? if i remember, the clinic has already run out.”

“the faculty,” you said, as if you’ve done this all the time, and anaxa is sure you have.

he stared at you as if you’ve grown two heads.

you’re quick to glare back at him and pull your wrist away from his hold. “why do you care all of a sudden?” you snapped.

he didn’t answer immediately. his lone eye flickered between your wrist, your foot, before they settled on the hand he used to cage you. anaxa sighed heavily, “i don’t. i simply find it incredibly foolish that you’re trying to hide your injury.”

“i’m not hiding it. i’ve told aglaea and she’s been helping me.” you seethed through gritted teeth. “and don’t throw the word foolish around so casually. for your information, don’t you think it’s stupid that you can’t even look me in the eye for more than five seconds during rehearsals?”

your words hit a nerve within anaxa as the air between you started to crackle and ignite.

when he glared at you, you scoffed in disbelief. “don’t think i haven’t noticed, anaxa. you flinch when you touch me. you can’t even stand to be near me.”

“that’s not—” he stopped mid-sentence when he caught a glimpse of your face—brows furrowed, eyes stormy, and lips wobbled every so slightly as they opened and closed but no words tumbled out. anaxa proves your previous point as he looked away, jaw clenched. “you know what? forget it.”

anaxa turned away and started walking in the direction of the dorms. he played deaf when your voice called out to him with equal amounts of frustration and annoyance.

“anaxa!”

another shout of his name, but he doesn’t spare a moment to stop nor look back.

“anaxa!”

his fists curled at his side, his teeth caught his bottom lip and bit down hard to have blood force its way between his teeth and land on his tongue. he can’t turn around—he mustn’t turn around.

“what are you so afraid of?!”

that was the last thing he heard before he started sprinting away—from you.

surprisingly, anaxa skipped rehearsals the following day, much to your annoyance. and aglaea’s worry is spiking with every jump, turn, and breath you take in the room.

you were frustrated, angry—but mostly tired.

time was running out and you were shouldering all the pressure, soaking it all up in your heart like a sponge dropped into an ocean. aglaea has never seen you so stuck in your domain. everything was tearing from the seams and you no longer had enough patience to stitch it all back together yourself—you needed anaxa by your side if you wanted to fix the tapestry you both started. and that infuriated you.

“dammit!” you cursed out loud as your body collided with the ground. you heaved and heaved, your entire body being supported by your arms in a plank position.

“what a mess our little dancer is in,” cerces commented, striding to aglaea’s side as the blonde woman sighed.

“anaxa skipped rehearsals,” aglaea informed. “twice.”

cerces frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, “now that’s a first. has he told you where he’s been?” when aglaea shakes her head, cerces dragged a hand down her face before they settled to hold her chin in contemplation. “where has that scholar run off to this time?”

“well wherever he is, he better return soon.” cerces watched as aglaea flinched as you failed another jump. you had no support—anaxa was supposed to be your anchor, but he has run away where vulnerability cannot find him. “if he’s not back by the day after tomorrow i’ll have no choice but to replace him as [name]’s partner.”

anaxa’s mentor frowned. “will you find someone in time?”

aglaea doesn’t answer and cerces understood. with one final sigh, cerces conceded, “alright, fine. i’ll have that phainon boy practice with our little dancer starting tomorrow. in that way he’ll at least know the flow of things.”

“thank you for your understanding, professor.” aglaea thanked the older woman.

“but i do have one question.” cerces followed up.

“what is it?”

“do you think they hate each other?”

aglaea paused. golden eyes gazed at your figure sitting on the polished wooden floors, staring at your own image reflected by the mirrors. you were fracturing, lights dimming out, but you were still trying to shine through all the cracks.

“no,” aglaea hummed. “they don’t. not really.”

anaxa felt ashamed—for skipping rehearsals and having to hear from cerces about your transgressions.

“dance is a conversation. what use would i be if you weren’t there to talk back?”

your words haunted him like a looming deadline as he gripped the handle of the rehearsal room’s door. he heard music inside—you were probably inside, dancing in your lonesome and falling to the ground with no one to catch you. anaxa’s teeth caught his lip once again as the thought of him not being there by your side had his stomach turning on itself in an unexplainable way.

he took a deep breath. his other hand gripped at the fabric over his chest where his heart rattled in uncertainty. when he thinks he can finally open the door—face you—he’s left with after images of your disappointed face. it was unlike him to act this way. he was a scholar—someone who dared to challenge the philosophy laid out to make sense of this chaotic world. but for all his intelligence he can never put his learnings to practice when it comes to you.

a laugh snapped anaxa out of his self-deprecating thoughts. his brows furrowed together and he willed himself to crack the door ajar to get a peek on what in the world could have happened to elicit something so uncharted from you.

anaxa wished he hadn’t opened the door.

there you were, squatting on the floor, as you laughed so casually at your junior—phainon. something turned inside anaxa’s gut as the snow-haired boy spewed something anaxa did not care for, his attention solely on you as you wiped a stray tear from your eye. he felt his blood run cold as you approached the younger boy and gently—far gentler than you would to him—lifted his arm into position while the other guided to hold you by the waist. the both of you stared at your feet as your voice—so tender and almost intimate it made anaxa want to vomit—counted so phainon would not lose his rhythm.

the warmth of your voice had left him feeling cold in the quiet hallways.

you moved with grace, phainon only messily tried to follow. anaxa watched with a pained look on his face as phainon carefully lifted you from the ground and twirled—your laughter echoed and bounced from the walls and phainon laughed with you as he sets you down. something snapped—maybe it was the doorframe, maybe it was him—when your fingers laced with phainon’s.

you were both effortless and right. he knew phainon was talented—perfect in some ways—but this? you don’t flinch, avoid eye contact, and you accept the closeness between the two of you. suddenly the image of you dancing better with someone that wasn’t him drove anaxa to a wall.

why do you not smile like that at him?

why don’t you move like that with him?

why does it feel like you’ve replaced him?

“now look at who the cat dragged in.”

anaxa shut the door in front him with a loud bang. he no longer cared for secrecy—he needed to get out of here.

cerces raised a brow, “and you’ve just blown our cover. honestly, anaxa, what has gotten—where are you going?”

he doesn’t answer. in fact, cerces’ presence prompted him to speed up his pace. taking sharp turns in corners and avidly ignoring how the professor tailed him with brows raised in parts amusement and worry.

“my goodness, if i had known you’d react so strongly then i wouldn’t have asked that boy to be [name]’s partner.” she joked.

anaxa paused as he turned to look at cerces. the professor was taken aback at his expression—wide-eyed, mouth hung open, as a flash of hurt circled in his eye. the two of them stood still in front of the campus building as the skies slowly turned gray, thunder rumbled in the far distance as anaxa spoke.

“you did what?”

cerces could not begin to describe the timbre of hurt that laced anaxa’s voice. she quickly tried to clear up the misunderstanding, “temporary partner, child of reason. you skipped two rehearsals and [name] had grown frustrated of their lack of improvement due to your absences. you gave me and aglaea no choice.”

“but phainon of all people?!” anaxa snapped.

“why not him? phainon may not be as academically sharp as you, but he listens. he adapts. and he certainly doesn’t run when things get too difficult for him.” cerces tried to reason. her reply discreetly jabbed at anaxa’s own actions.

“why didn’t you wait?”

“we did.”

anaxa scoffed, “i highly doubt that.”

“anaxa you are acting irrationally right now,” cerces lectured. “your insecurities are clouding your judgment.”

at her response, anaxa let out a laugh—mocking but strained. he was cracking and cerces cannot understand why.

“insecurities? when have i ever been insecure?!” he tried to argue.

“right now—you are insecure right now, anaxa.”

anaxa’s mouth opened—then like always, it shut. what was there left to say? all explanations would sound like excuses as cerces cut straight to the heart of anaxa’s problem. slowly, anaxa’s facade of arrogance began to crumble—and he made no effort to catch himself and patch it all back together. he didn’t care if the rain had started to pour—he didn’t care if the world blurred into one giant mess of emotion and logic, or that his clothes clung to him like punishment. he just kept walking, away from his cerces, away from you, away from the version of himself he could not recognize.

he let it rain. because maybe, just maybe, if it poured hard enough, it would drown out the sounds of your laughter with another man.

anaxa had gone mad, he was sure of it—everyone thought so, too.

the way he’d drag his sleepless body into lecture halls, head always buried in his folded arms, and the dark circle under his lone eye, anaxa was nothing short of the typical overworked student. but the thing is: anaxa hasn’t done any work since his last encounter with you and phainon in the rehearsal rooms four days ago.

four days of no sleep, anaxa was just about ready to rip his hair out due to the absurdity of it all. whenever he’d close his eye, the haunting images of you and phainon on stage smiling as you raise a golden trophy hand in hand had him jolting awake and pacing around his room. he’s tried to wrap his head around why that single thought sent shockwaves of hurt into the crevices of his heart but none ever made sense.

when the professor at front dismissed the class, anaxa heaved out a tired sigh. he had wasted another perfectly good lecture dozing off—burning down images of you in his mind in hopes you’ll fade away with the cinders. but you’re just so stubborn. whenever anaxa is alone at home and he’s pacing around the room in the dark, he hears your voice. he hates how he’s got the timbre of your tone memorized and how his mind plays tricks on him. but it's as if his body moved on its own last night—when he heard your favorite piece playing from his phone, as if by second nature, anaxa’s arms lifted and placed it around the misty image of you in his imagination and led you to a waltz.

anaxa shook the thought away and rushed out of the room. he needed another cup of coffee, something to wake him up from the daydreams he didn’t think he could have.

“anaxa?”

his eye widened and before he could fully process who had called out to him, his body had turned around in lightning speed.

there you stood, your duffle bag slung over your shoulder as your hand held your typical dance shoes. you were in no better condition than him, he surmised. bags lined under your eyes, hair a mess, your lips chapped and lacking its usual color. anaxa hated it—how his gaze immediately fell to your feet to make sure you were okay now. or how he noticed the slight twitch of your hand and how your lips fell just to snap shut. he smiled as some sick twisted part of him felt happy—overjoyed at the fact that he’s not the only one being affected by all of this. but it’s short lived when sirens blared in his mind when you took step after step in his direction.

anaxa fled like a coward.

“anaxa wait!”

anaxa was fully sprinting and when he slammed the exit doors open, he cursed under his breath when he realized it was raining. he heard your footsteps closing in on him and against his better judgement, he ran straight into the rain. ever since that day, anaxa had learned how it felt to hate the cries of the sky. during the first few hours when the flesh wound of you being better without him was inflicted, he found comfort in the rain washing away the blood from his body. but he later realized that not every part of him will be abstained from the pain—your smile, your grace, your voice, they remained etched into his psyche where the rain could not erase. and he hated that more.

he hated the rain—incredibly so. but now, as he’s sprinting away from the same ghost that had haunted him for the last ninety-six hours, anaxa finds himself hoping that it would at least wash some madness out of him.

the rain would have felt nice if the water did not sting his eye or felt like bullets piercing his skin. if he wasn’t careful, anaxa would slip and the bravado he had cultivated all his life would melt away like paper meeting a flame. you were the flame—you always have. always warm to touch, bright with your smile, and captivating with the way you danced. someone that always had anaxa recoiling back in timidity because he’s never felt like this with you before—you were the only thing anaxa wasn’t willing to study because he feared the inevitable result of his findings.

“anaxa, won’t you hear me out, just this once?!” you pleaded.

anaxa was winded, his pace was faltering but he pushed himself to continue. he could not—he would not—allow himself to fall right into the palm of your kind hands.

“ANAXA!”

before he knew it, a body collided with his just in time for a vehicle swerved past him. anaxa felt his heart stop, eye grow unfocused for a moment as his back fell onto the cold and damp pavement. on instinct, anaxa’s shaking hands cradled something delicate to his chest as another kind of rain soaked his chest. you were soaked to the bone and trembled within his embrace as gasps of exhaustion and fear escaped from your lips. when he looked up, the first distinct thought he had was, “you don’t belong in the rain.”

“you nearly got yourself killed and that’s the first thing you say to me?!” you screamed at him. your feeble hands gripped at his shoulders as they shook. “anaxa have you finally, genuinely, gone mad?!”

anaxa wanted to pull away, run past you like he always had these past four days—he needed to get away from you. but he can’t get up—not this time. not when you’re crying and afraid, not when you still don’t know the truth of what you’ve done to him in a measly three weeks.

“have i gone mad?” anaxa laughed, bitter and breathless. “yes, yes i have. ninety-six hours of pure excruciating hell.”

you glared at him, the grip on his shoulders turned bruising as you rebut, “so this is your solution? to get yourself killed?! anaxa this is a new definition of madness! if you were in hell just as you said why didn’t you tell anyone?”

the rain poured harder as if it were laughing with anaxa. with a shaky hand, he pushed his damp bangs out of his eye to get a good look at your distraught face and smiled, “you still don’t get it. it’s right in front of you! you are the reason for my suffering and still, you don’t see it—how you ruin me!”

“what are you talking about?!” you say in incredulity.

“you’ve rendered me unable to breathe after a glimpse of what it would be like if i weren’t by your side—when you’re dancing with someone else. just one glimpse of another wrapping his arms around you and i’m sent into this spiralling hell and you ask me what i’m talking about?”

something snapped in anaxa—maybe it was his self-control or the lock that he used to hide his feelings. you were still panting but your eyes had gone wide in shock of his confession. anaxa continues, “i saw you with him—phainon. laughing. dancing like nothing happened. like i never happened. like we hadn’t spent a week skin to skin. and do you know what that did to me? ninety-six hours, ninety-six, of no sleep, no peace. just your face in my mind and your voice under my skin. all because i caught a small glimpse! and i know it’s still my fault in the end.”

anaxa dragged a hand down his face roughly. “i hate you. i hated you. but i hate how i care more. for fuck’s sake i don’t think i ever hated you to begin with. i tried so hard to find faults in our interactions—how you get under my skin, your incessant nit picking at dance rehearsals, and the hours i spend debating over useless topics because you just can’t accept defeat.”

you gasped when anaxa’s hand slid up to cradle the side of your face as his eye narrowed into a glare, his other hand covering half of his face to hide the involuntary flush on his cheeks. “you don’t even have to try. you ruin me with a single touch, your voice—you ruin me by just being you and i hate it.”

“i couldn’t bring myself to study you because i knew the answer would wreck me.” anaxa laughed and slowly pushed himself off the ground with you still on his lap. “and it did. there, are you happy now?”

“anaxa,” you tried to interject.

his head fell to your chest, his ear placed right above your erratic heart as anaxa took a deep breath. the hand that cradled your face fell to his side as the other gripped your forearm in a desperate plea, “please, tell me you feel it. or tell me i’m mad once more. tell me that this is all just in my head so my misery can finally stop.” he grit his teeth and buried his face further into your chest, “if you truly feel an ounce of pity—something, anything—for me, then don’t leave me standing here like a fool.”

you sat there feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of you.

anaxa’s head still remained buried in your chest, trembling—not from the rain, but from the weight of something he’s kept close to his chest. his words ricocheted in your mind, tangled with the sound of your heartbeat and the rain that refused to let up.

for a second you did nothing, stayed motionless and let his feelings sink in fully. then—

you brought your arms around his shoulders, pulled him impossibly closer to your heart, and held him there—not tight, not desperate, just enough for him to infer your response.

“anaxa”, you whispered and you felt him stiffen in your hold. “i was wrong—you’re not mad. or if you are, then i must be, too.”

anaxa tried to pull away, look at you, but your arms would not let him. just like him, you were afraid, scared of what he would respond with your vulnerability laid bare.

“you… you’re just so hard to read sometimes. the first day you’re baring your fang but the next you’re suddenly so tame. so when i noticed you pulling away, i thought—i thought you were just done with me. that you were tired of me pushing your buttons. so, i let it go, because i thought it was for the best—for the both of us. i didn’t think… i never thought it would end up hurting you.”

you let out a shaky breath and continued, “i danced with phainon to fill in the space you left. at first i thought, ‘i’ve done this before. i can make it on my own again.’ but i couldn’t. i didn’t want to admit that i needed you there with me.” you swallowed hard, then laughed. “i’ve been in hell too, you know—for one hundred sixty eight hours, i’ve missed you incredibly.”

memories of your bickering resurfaced like flowers floating on top of crashing waves. though both your tones were meant to kill, they often died down after a few minutes, replaced by something uncharacteristically soft as you both stretched and started warm ups. how you would glance at your phone in that week anaxa had not appeared, waiting for him to reach out, and you hated how whenever the device lit up, you’d make a dash for it only to be disappointed because it's not him.

you pulled back—ignoring the flutter inside your chest when his arms wrapped just a tad bit tighter around you—just enough to look at him. your thumb brushed the side of his face—careful, hesitant, almost reverent. and you smiled, “you’ve always caught me with every throw and hadn’t let me go with every dip—i’d never leave you standing alone, anaxa.”

aglaea mused that something must have happened—again. after all, it wasn’t everyday you and anaxa enter the rehearsal room soaked straight to the bone, your hairs clung to your faces, eyes puffy and red as if you had been crying.

with a worried lecture, aglaea sent you both to the locker rooms to get a warm shower, change into dry clothes, and eventually drive you both home. though, deep down, aglaea is elated with this sudden change. something soft had taken root in both of your sharp edges around one another, especially with the way anaxa held your hand in a firm grip and how you looked at him as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of your chest.

the blonde woman smiled as she watched you two leave the room, hand in hand, muttering secrets to one another—pretending as if aglaea wasn’t in the same space as you.

you were both stuck in your own world where the storm quieted when you two were together.

— the third week.

the following rehearsals were painfully quiet.

not in the usual hostile way—just in the way where the remnants of a storm finally settles and everyone is left to pick up the stray pieces. the room felt heavy, like the walls in the locker room where you both sat were waiting for something to happen.

you and anaxa sat facing each other, avoiding each other’s gaze and tucked behind a closed room as aglaea stepped out to take a call. you were both grateful and distraught over the silence neither of you knew how to fill. you fiddled with your phone, opening the group chat out of instinct before swiping it shut again. your reflection greeted you when the device fell asleep—hair still a mess, eyes just a tad bit more red than usual, and you looked pale due to spending too much time under heavy rain.

something soft fell on your shoulders. when you looked up, anaxa was already sitting down beside you, drinking nonchalantly from his water bottle. you mutter a soft thank you, all the while ignoring your hyperfocus on the few inches that separated your fingers from touching and causing a chain reaction. you bit your lip in contemplation, hand letting go of your phone to clutch the jacket placed on your shoulders—tugging it closer for warmth and if you closed your eyes, you’d catch a small whiff of anaxa’s favorite cologne.

anaxa was the one to break the heavy silence.

“you were going to say something. back then,” he said, voice low and casual in the way people speak when they’re trying to sound like they don’t care.

you blinked, “when?”

anaxa didn’t look at you. “the first week. after our first rehearsal together. you typed something, then deleted it.”

you pause momentarily before a small smile tugged at your lips. “yeah… i was gonna ‘sorry’.” you admitted. “but i wanted to say it in person. i guess i missed the right time.”

anaxa scoffed and clicked his tongue. his head leaned back against the lockers behind him. “you’re free to judge my poor choices—you always have. it’s not that you missed it, i didn’t let you have it.”

you slowly turned to look at him. he chewed on the inside of his cheeks, his eyes glared at the ceiling as if the concrete structure would reveal to him all the answers. the moment felt raw—no heat, no fire, and no bickering, just the truth sitting between the few inches of your fingertips.

“you don’t have to be too harsh on yourself y’know?” you lectured, following his gaze and settled them on the ceiling as you confessed, “i was scared that if i said it too late, it’d mean less. but if i said it too early, it wouldn’t fix anything.” you let out a teasing chuckle before continuing. “you aren’t exactly the easiest person to apologize to, anaxa.”

he didn’t answer right away, anaxa only scoffed. then he muttered, “i would’ve ruined it anyway. i wasn’t looking for an apology.”

“then you’re really gonna hate this part.”

anaxa finally glanced at you and he wished he didn’t.

you leaned both of your hands on top of your legs, your hair falling seamlessly around your face to accentuate your soft smile and eyes, and anaxa hated the immediate jumps of his heart at the sight.

“i still want to say it. i’m sorry, anaxa. for being such a pain in your ass, for pushing all your buttons, and for letting you walk away thinking it didn’t matter to me.”

something passed through his eye—quiet, deep, but not quite forgiveness. maybe fond, intimate.

and then he frowned. “we’re taking a break. why are you still sitting on your toes?”

“huh–?”

before you could argue, anaxa is already on the floor pushing, letting his hands push your legs down until the sole of your heels meet the ground. for good measure, one hand gently pressed on your shin and kept them in place. “flat. you need to rest your feet, especially after your injury. it’s laughable at how to try to present yourself as someone taller or tenser than you are.”

“hey!” you huffed but your mouth snapped back shut when he looked up. that single crimson eye stared at your soul—all knowing of the effect he had on you. your voice turned quieter as you complained, “that’s rude to say…”

anaxa only let out a breath of amusement. he shifted in his position and you tensed, jumping in slight shock as a heavy weight landed on your thighs.

“anaxa what are you–?!”

you fumbled with your hands, unsure of where to place them. you’re heart racing erratically inside the columns of your chest as your cheeks erupted into a flushed pink. anaxa turned his head carefully on your lap, looking up at you with a deadpan expression as his hands slowly snaked themselves around your mid-back.

“if you try and sit on your toes again, i’m staying here for the remainder of our rehearsals.”

you stared at him frozen, hands awkwardly in the air and mouth slightly ajar.

he turned away. “you’re more comfortable than the benches. don’t get a big head about it. and not a single word to professor cerces.”

“i’m not a damn snitch,” you muttered. after an exasperated exhale, your hands slowly fell to your side. for the next few minutes, you let anaxa lay his head on your lap. you couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled out. slowly—and very unsure—you carded your fingers through his hair. anaxa flinched at the contact and you quickly retracted your hand. but his hold quickly seized your wrist.

“did i tell you to stop?” he asked—more like demanded—through the fabric of your pants.

you let out another sigh. “well sheesh i’m sorry.”

your hand hovered over his hair as your brows furrowed, mind going a hundred miles a minute before you’re broken out of your daze. anaxa sighed, the warmth of his breath tickled your thighs as he gently led your hand to lay on top of his hair.

“i was caught off guard,” he murmured. “i don’t dislike it. feel free to continue.”

you remained hesitant. hand laid limp on the crown of his head, but when anaxa tapped your wrist—a motion that’s just so him—you let yourself smile at his attempts in sharing his feelings. you don’t notice how time passes like a blur when you brush anaxa’s hairs with your fingers.

for a moment you think you forgot how to breathe. but anaxa’s warmth, that gentle rise and fall of his chest, reminded you that you had the best student in campus to teach you how to breathe again.

“good morning my favorite seni—”

“get out.”

phainon physically deflates at anaxa’s blatant rejection. the snow-haired bow dejectedly walks back to mydei and castorice’s side—the latter offered him small comfort while the blonde man crossed his arms with a small smirk on his face. anaxa felt an oncoming headache invade his senses as he looked to aglaea who seemed far too amused at the situation.

“i was not informed we would be having guests today, aglaea.” he spat out. his arms crossed over his chest out of habit as he raised a brow at the three new faces in the studio.

“we’re sorry for the intrusion,” castorice intervened. “but we were informed by professor cerces that our presence was required here. though she never fully explained why.”

anaxa sighed. “if i were to take a guess, you three are our audience.”

aglaea smiled and urged the trio to come forward, “and you would be correct, anaxa. once [name] arrives, we’ll begin like usual, but with these three as your pseudo-judges.”

“fine,” anaxa replied and made a beeline towards the locker rooms.

phainon sat there, on the polished wooden floors, with his mouth hanging open. his head looked to where anaxa had disappeared into and then to aglaea who only smiled—he repeated the actions for a while before mydei grabbed hold of his head and forced him to stop.

with a shaky hand, he pointed to where the locker rooms were and asked, “was that really senior anaxa…?”

aglaea chuckled under her breath. “yes, he is. why do you ask?”

“well it’s just, i don’t remember him giving in so… easily?” the junior sounded confused as the two students beside him nodded in agreement.

“i have to admit, it seems hard to believe.” mydei interjected.

castorice only nodded when aglaea’s eyes landed on her. with an amused smile, the older woman entertained them, “even the sharpest of blades grow dull with constant use. though to use the word ‘dull’ would be nothing short of incorrect. it’s more of, anaxa is now—”

“good morning, everyone.”

“taken care of.”

all head turned to you. phainon could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets as mydei let out a huff and castorice covered her mouth in shock. there you stood by the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, hair in its usual messy hairstyle, but hanging delicately on your shoulder was anaxa’s jacket.

you notice the added presence in the room and tilted your head in question, “i wasn’t informed we were having guests today.”

“they even talk the same now…” phainon muttered under his breath.

“huh?”

“what phainon meant was,” aglaea interjected. “they’ll be watching you and anaxa rehearse. only for today. think of it as a small prep for competition day.”

before you can step out of the way, phainon sprung from his seat, and wrapped his arms around your torso with comical tears streaming down his face. you let out a startled yelp, “phainon?!”

“please don’t turn into another mean senior, [name]! you’re the only one who treats me really nicely, i can’t lose you!” the boy cried out and buried his face into your side. half-amused and half-confused, you gently pat down phainon’s hair as mydei and castorice tried to pry his crying figure from you.

the room turned a little colder when phainon was roughly tugged backwards.

“and what do you think you’re doing, phainon?”

said boy, shook like a leaf, as he turned around to meet anaxa’s glare. his face turned paler than it usually was and cried out your name like a plea.

“[name] save me!”

“what do you need saving from, you buffon?”

you let out an amused breath at the sight. anaxa holding phainon by the back of his collar like a mother cat holding her kitten by the scruff. phainon kept flinging his arms around like a child caught sneaking candy before bed time as mydei and castorice send their quiet prayers to their friend. when you turned to look aglaea, she held that same quiet yet amused expression—she was not going to stop their little scuffle.

with a sigh, you let an elated smile break free from your face as you approached the two.

“alright, that’s enough,” you said. a hand softly wrapped around anaxa’s wrist as you turned to him, smiling with mirth in your eyes, ��won’t you let him go, anaxa? he’s learned his lesson. isn’t that right, phainon?”

anaxa stiffened ever so briefly at the contact—your touch still felt like a searing iron when meeting his bare skin, but he welcomed the pain wholeheartedly this time. his grip on phainon’s collar loosened slightly, but not enough to let go. instead, he glanced at where your bare skin met —eye flickered between you and the contact before he averted his gaze.

“i’d beg to differ,” he muttered, voice a lot softer than normal. “he still has much to learn.”

“hey!” phainon protested.

“anaxa,” you called out once more. anaxa actively ignored your gaze as he felt something warm trickle down the system of his nerves when your voice came out gentler than the last. your thumb gently pressed against his pulse with idle care—you knew what you were doing to him. “please, won’t you let him go?”

he took a deep breath before letting out a shaky exhale. he finally looked at you, and for a moment, everyone in the room thought he’d argue. instead, he looked away—cheeks ever so slightly flushed—and released phainon with an exaggerated sigh. “fine. are you happy now?”

phainon dropped to the floor with a thud, scrambling back like a cartoon villain escaping the jaws of death. “i’ve never been more afraid in my life,” he whispered, crawling behind castorice.

aglaea let out a quiet, knowing hum—a smile tugged at her lips. “i see we’ve entered the negotiation stage.”

“negotiation?!” phainon squawked.

“that,” mydei said under his breath, a knowing smile on his lips. “was not negotiations. that was flirting.”

“flirting?!”

“are seniors anaxa and [name] in a relationship now?” castorice whispered, wide-eyed.

anaxa whirled around, clearly having heard their conversation as aglaea quietly exited. “we are not.”

you blinked, a teasing smile graced your lips as you asked with mock innocence, “not what?”

anaxa’s face flushed as he glared at you. his hand circled around your wrist as he dragged you to the locker rooms. your laughter bounced around the walls as the trio watched you exchange quiet codes only you knew how to decipher. when you think you’re out of sight, you tugged anaxa closer as you planted a soft kiss to his cheek—the man in turn scurried back a few inches, a hand covering half his face as you continued to laugh.

“yeah”, mydei huffed. “they are definitely dating.”

by the time the trio had left the studio, the sun was setting in the horizon, leaving only you and anaxa with aglaea as she gave you final reminders before the day of the competition.

“your chemistry has improved greatly,” she complimented with a smile. aglaea tucked her tablet back into her bag before her gaze returned to her two dancers—both heaving and sweaty, but content and proud of their progress. “all that’s really left is to prepare for the competition. i won’t nag you on the hows—you can figure it out by yourselves. have a pleasant evening you two. shoot me a message when you get home.”

you and anaxa nod in tandem and quietly watch as the older woman leaves the room with a quiet click of the door. you collapsed to the floor with a heavy sigh, your legs stretched outwards as you massage the tender muscle with a quiet wince. anaxa kneeled in front of your figure, his hands rubbed at the sore spot near your ankles with worry in his eyes.

“i’ll be fine,” you reassured him before he could say a word. when he looked up, you only gave him a tired smile and reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers. “i trust you to catch me when i stumble.”

anaxa huffed—a breath so full of tender fondness you’re not sure how to put it into words. he stood up and brought you along with him. his hold delicate and still slightly hesitant—the warmth of his palm ghosted the skin of your waist. you only nodded in approval as he quietly asked with his eyes, “can i touch you?”, without saying the actual words itself.

when his hand made itself home on the base of your flesh, you hummed the music and let him guide you through the dance. left and right, then turn. distance yourself from him, but never too much. he pulled you back, not roughly nor gently, just enough for him to quietly plead for you to stay. turn away from his gaze, lest you want his eyes to burn his name in your bones. try to run away, build a cage to shield your heart, but leave your hand reaching for him so he could take the key and open it. your feet are off the ground before you can fully process the dance—and you laughed at the absurdity of it all.

when you land back on the ground, it’s as if you’re taken back to that stormy day. when you looked at anaxa, that frosty layer of uncertainty had been washed away by the rain. your hand reached to cup his cheek and you smiled brightly when he leaned into your touch—nuzzling his face further into your palm as his lips ghosted the point of your pulse.

“after all this time, you still can’t find your balance,” he muttered—fondly.

“maybe i’m doing it on purpose,” you joked. your other hand trailed up his chest—the sensation being followed by flames being ignited as anaxa’s breath got caught in his throat—and you lay it where his delicate heart is hidden. you chuckled, “if i had known you’d be so keen to catch me maybe i would’ve thrown myself at you sooner.”

anaxa retaliated by pulling the hand at his chest into his own, raising the one settled on your waist to your upper back and dipping you low. you let out a startled scream, eyes squeezed shut as the world blurred before it stilled.

“open your eyes.”

when you cracked your eyelids open, it took you a moment to let the sight fully sink in. anaxa’s figure bathed by a soft iridescent glow courtesy of the studio lights, his long bangs tickling your face as his breath threatened to become your own. his lips quirked up into a smug smile and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. anaxa leaned impossibly closer—he wanted to merge your souls into one at this very moment.

you could hear the erratic beating of your heart as anaxa’s hold of the position remained firm. the way anaxa looked at you now—as if you’ve penned every book he’s ever loved and recited every lecture he’s always so keen to listen in—it made it hard to breathe, let alone think.

“you’re so dramatic,” you whispered, eyes still locked on him.

“and you’re reckless,” he replied, tone warm, almost teasing. “for playing with my heart like this.”

you grinned. “then maybe it’s only fair that we fall at the same time.”

anaxa took a breath in. he searched your face—gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips where they lingered for a moment too long—like he was asking for permission if it truly was okay to cross the border that would unravel his existence. anaxa needed—yearned—to know if you’d still want him even when the music has stopped.

“what’s on your mind, anaxa?” you asked—pretending to remain oblivious to his wants.

“an inquiry,” he replied. “one i’ve been trying to understand for the last few weeks.”

the hand that quietly rested on his shoulder snaked to cradle his face. “does it include me?”

“when has it ever not included you?”

his words hung in the air like suspended notes, trembling, waiting for resolution.

you felt the ache in his words—the feelings so palpable you could catch it in the way you would desperately try to grasp at burning cinders. anaxa’s breath hitched when your thumb brushed under his eye, tender and deliberate.

“please ask,” you murmured. “please say it.”

anaxa swallowed hard, voice soft—his self-control fraying at the seams.

“is it foolish of me… to want this to mean something beyond the stage?” he finally asked. his brows furrowed as his eye narrowed in uncertainty, “would you still let me feel your skin against mine even if it burns? let me experiment on your soul until it only knows my name—and mine, yours?”

your breath hitched.

“no,” you answered. “not foolish. not even close.”

for a moment, neither of you moved. not out of hesitation, but reverence. hoping to make this fragile moment that could break with one wrong breath last just a second more.

then—slowly, almost nervously—anaxa leaned forward, closing the painful distance, not with grand dramatics but with aching certainty with your permission. and when your lips met, it was not fire that invaded the moment, but a slow-burning sun that ached to see the horizon—steady, warm, constant, and real.

his hand tightened just slightly at your back, as though ground himself in your bare presence where only the two of you mattered. your own fingers curled against his jaw, pulling him like a tide, like homecoming.

you parted only when the need for air became undeniable, and anaxa cursed this mortal body for its necessities—he only needed you.

“not a word to the professor,” he chimed.

you laughed as he pulled you back to your own two feet. your hand still on the edge of his jaw and his on your back. you smiled as you pressed your face into his neck, listening to the way his heart rattled your name in the columns of his throat.

“not a word to the professor,” you echoed.

theoretically speaking, anaxa once believed it was impossible to change your mind about someone in a matter of weeks. that it was absurd to undo years of contempt with a few shared dances, a handful of late night rehearsals, a string of glances too long to be innocent, or a confession made under a stormy day.

but now, as you buried your face in the crook of his neck and his hand splayed firm against your back like a promise—he knew.

anaxa had been wrong.

not just in theory, but in practice. utterly, wonderfully wrong.

because it only took three weeks for all his logic to crumble. for you to rewrite the entire philosophy he’d built his whole world around—not with arguments or with evidence, but with the way you moved around the stage, the emotions evoked with your reckless courage in the steps you take, the soft curve of your smile, and the infuriating way you slipped past his defences like light through stained glass.

and for the first time, anaxa didn’t mind being wrong.

not if being wrong meant having this—you.

#anaxa x reader #hsr x reader #—stellaronhvnters #honkai star rail x reader #anaxa x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #❝ books of adoration

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judesmoonbeauty · 2 days ago

Text

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝔼𝕟𝕕: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟜 + ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕦𝕞, "𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟"

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

: ̗̀⁍ CW: Awkwardly translated smut. : ̗̀⁍ MDNI.

Jude: The only reason I’m confrontin’ ya gits so civil-like, is ‘cause of that girl.

Jude: But if I leave ya sods be, ya might do somethin’ bad to Kate one day.

Jude: So, I won’t be able t’sleep at night, ‘less I expose ‘n torture each one of ya face to face.

Ex-Pricy Counsellor: You're very obsessed with her, and there's no guarantee that she's even alive now.

Jude: She ain’t dead.

Jude: She made me a promise.

(Oh….)

[Flashback]

Kate: Jude…..I promise you.

Kate: I will never die before you.

[Flashback Ends]

Jude: She knows what’ll happen if she breaks her contract.

Jude: And also…..

His amethyst eyes contort cruelly.

Jude: I won’t let ya kill her—

Kate: ….Mm!

My heart drummed and as I covered my mouth with my hand.

Jude: She ain’t a woman fer lil’ shites like ya to lay yer hands on. I’ll kick yer arses, idiots….!

Jude became enraged, grabbing and kicking each of the men one by one.

Jude: Die, trash!

The area immediately turned into chaos as blood splattered everywhere and the men's faces twist in pain, with only Jude smiling in the midst of this cycle of revenge and resentment.

(….I see now, I was mistaken.)

I thought he was planning to give up everything and jump into another unending cycle of revenge.

(….But, I was wrong.)

(Jude was just trying to protect me.)

Jude: Lookit ya scamperin’ away, ya haven’t had ‘nough fun yet, have ya?

He remains ruthless, merciless, arrogant, intolerant, and not to mention - a bastard.

(But still….)

Watching Jude as he carries the moonlight on his back and smiles sadistically, I can’t help but smile.

(Ohhh... I love you so much.)

My mind and body - everything about me is screaming.

(So, I won’t give up living with you.)

Ex-Privy Counsellor: You’re the one who’s going to die….you supernatural monster!

Jude: …….Tch.

A gun was pointed at Jude—

BANG!!

Jude: …….!

His amethyst eyes look backward and caught sight of me shooting the man who was aiming at Jude in the shoulder.

Jude: …….It’s you.

Kate: It’s been a while, Jude….I’m back now.

I’m curious as to how long we stared at each other, and then Jude’s lips curved as if he had caught on to everything.

Jude: ……Heh.

Jude: Is that right?

Jude: Ellis. Just how far will he go teasin’ people—

Kate: Ellis was simply helping me out with my plan.

Kate: …..You know, we’ve had a conversation like this before.

(But it’s different from back then.)

There isn’t a shred of hesitation in my heart anymore.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: O-Oy! Just who the hell are you messing with!

Jude & Kate: Y’shuddup! • Please shut up!

Ex-Privy Counsellor: What did you say?!

Kate: Jude, there's something I want to talk to you about.

Kate: So, let’s wrap this up quickly.

Turning his attention to the remaining former Privy Council members, Jude twisted his lips in amusement.

Jude: Tch, keep chit-chattin’ like that ‘n ya might die.

Kate: The same goes for you, Jude.

He and I stood back to back like we had planned it out, and the sounds of the brawl that had begun were gradually drowned in silence.…

Next thing I knew, all the former Privy Counsellors were unconscious on the ground.

Jude and I split up the work, and by the time we tied the men up and put them into the warehouse, we were both out of breath.

Kate: Haa, haaa….Hehe, thanks for your hard work.

Jude: ……….Ha.

We lay on the ground together and look up at the night sky.

Jude: Those letters sent to Raven Ltd.

Kate: I wrote them, because I needed to make you believe I was staying somewhere far away.

Kate: Otherwise, you would’ve just pushed me away again.

Jude: ……So why’d ya go so far to come back?

Kate: To be your back you up as you faced-off with the privy council all alone, and…..to remind you that I didn’t receive any compensation for fulfilling the terms of the contract.

That was when we first met…..

[Flashback]

Kate: By the time I finish being the fairytale keeper, I will find something to like about you.

Jude: Hah?

Kate: I can’t find anything at the moment….but I don’t think it’s bad to be liked without gaining anything from it.

Jude: ………..

Kate: I promise you.

Jude: ….How stupid. Are ya insane?

Jude: If ya find anythin’ to like ‘bout me, I’ll listen to any one thing ya say.

[Flashback Ends]

After a little tit for tat, I had made that promise to him.

Kate: Jude, I've discovered exactly what I like about you.

Kate: So, please listen to everything I have to say.

Jude: ……I gotta bad feelin’ about this.

Kate: Yeah, when you hear it, you may just pop a blood vessel.

The moon shines pale blue directly above us.

Jude had said before that love was a curse.

We’re heartbroken when it’s lost, hateful when it’s stolen, and resentful when we are betrayed by it.

Even so, once it's been poured out, you can't resist it - it's the root of all evil.

That's what love means to Jude.

Therefore, showering him with my love is both selfish and egoistical on my part.

(My love and affection isn’t kind to Jude.)

(Nevertheless….)

I want him to always shout at the moon no matter how cruel this world is; no matter how festered and worn out he is in this world.

Despite all of that…..I want you to live.

So, what I'm about to say aren't kind words of love.

Rather, these words are a curse to bind you to this world.

Even if this act is unkind, even if it’s distorted, and even if it’s evil—

(—I curse you.)

Kate: Jude.

Jude: What is it?

Kate: Please be sure to fulfill the request I’m about to make.

I look at Jude lying next to me.

Kate: Take me to the moon.

Jude: ………..

He seemed taken back for a moment, but then laughed dryly.

Jude: Haha…..

Jude: D’ya understand what yer sayin’?

Kate: Yes, I do. I understand, and that’s why I threw away everything before telling you this.

Jude: …..Hah?

Kate: While you thought I was enjoying a holiday, I was actually busy doing all sorts of things.

Kate: I moved out of the flat I used to live in, and submitted my letter of resignation to my work.

Kate: And after all that, I completed this formality.

I showed Jude the “Fairytale Keeper Letter of Extension,” that I’d kept carefully in my garter belt.

It’s a document indicating that I will continue as a Fairytale Keeper, with consent from all of the Crown members, less Jude.

Jude: Those guys……

Kate: I’ll never leave your side again.

Jude: Yer such a stubborn woman it’s flat out shockin’.

Kate: By the way, I’ve already reported everything that would happen tonight to Victor.

Jude: ………..

(Yeah, there's no way he wouldn't be angry after all that.)

Bracing myself, I waited following angry shouts and words, but…..

Jude: …..Pfft.

Contrary to my own expectations, a soft smile dropped instead—

Jude: ……Geez.

Jude: I’m the one who underestimated yer willingness to call it quits, so it’s my fault fer gettin’ duped.

Jude: Hey, Kate.

Jude’s gaze is tinged with gentleness.

Jude: Yer really……hopeless, ya know that?

Kate: ……Mm.

Just seeing myself reflected in his eyes made my heart feel full.

With emotions bubbling up inside me, I touched Jude's hand that was stretched out on the ground.

He stares at out interlocked hands, not attempting to shake free.

Kate: Jude, let me tell you this again.

Kate: I love your kindness in trying to keep me from death, and your incomprehensible love in trying to protect me from a distance is so endearing.

Kate: But….I’m not content with just that.

Jude: ………

Kate: I want to live my life with you, and look up at the moon together like this.

I hold onto Jude's hand tightly so it doesn’t separate from mine, but I won’t be able to hold his hand like this forever.

Which is why I’ll use my gaze and my words, to convey everything in my heart.

Kate: I want to curse you….until I die.

Jude: ………..

Jude: Nah.

Kate: ……

Jude: Whaddya mean till ya die. That ain’t funny.

Jude: Can’t ya at least say somethin’ like, “to the bottom o’ hell”?

Kate: That’s…..

As my eyes widen with surprise, Jude reached out and pulled my head towards him.

His gorgeous amethyst eyes were staring at me, our noses almost touching.

Jude: Then it’s a deal, Kate. Let’s curse each other to the bottom o’ hell.

No personal pronouns are used, so I opted to translate it as “let’s curse each other.”

I’m speechless. Not a single word will come out.

Jude smiles as my eyes grew wider.

Jude: But remember one thin’, Princess....My 'promises' don’t come cheap.

Jude: If ya break yer promise, I’ll show ya a hell that’ll make ya think ya were better off dead.

That's what I was told when we first met.

So, I will say the same thing I did that day.

Kate: I don't think it's so bad to be loved without gaining anything from it.

In chapter one, Kate uses “suku”, but here she is now using “Ai.” Hence, the change from “liked” to “loved.”

Jude: Pff, you said it yourself.

Jude: Then I’ll let me love ya.

Again, no personal pronouns are use, so this may also be rendered as “I’ll let ya love me.”

Jude suddenly kisses me on the lips.

(……Mm?!)

Jude: What kinda face is that. It’s messy, pathetic ‘n cute.

Jude: Makes me wanna hold ya.

(Huh….? Just now….)

The words that shook my eardrums contained an unfamiliar sweetness….

Kate: Jude, what did you just say?

Jude: ….C’mon, follow me.

The smile on his face said, “I’ll only say it once.”

Once in a Blue Moon

Alone in the silence of the president's office, only the sound of our two heartbeats echoed—

Forced to sit on the desk, I received such intense kisses that I could hardly breathe.

Kate: …Mm…Mmnh….Jude, here….?

The thin ribbon behind my neck was untied, and Jude lifts an eyebrow when I push back his chest.

Jude: What, yer not happy? Well, if that's the case, why don't we go back to the castle...?

Kate: Ah….

He smiled suggestively and pulled my corset down all in one go.

The corset tightened around my lower chest, jutting my bare breasts out invitingly to Jude, making me look even more indecent.

Just as I gasped in shame, a finger flicked the tip of my breast, causing the bud to harden from the sweet stimulation.

Kate: Oh.….here’s fine.….

Jude: Ya said it the wrong way. Ya should’ve said, “I like it here.”

Jude: Gettin’ off on bein’ teased in places like this…...Look at ya, bein’ so lustful.

His fingers squish my nipples, and twists them up into lascivious shapes.

Kate: ……Wait…..Jude.

A sweet tingling sensation runs down my spine and my body trembles uncontrollably.

(Before I fall body and soul to Jude….)

Kate: Jude, what do you think of me?

Earlier, Jude and I made a promise to love each other all the way to the depths of hell.

However, I haven’t heard him say, "I like you" or "I love you," yet.

Kate: I want to hear it in your own words, Jude. Then I.…..

Jude: Are ya sayin’ then ya can fall to hell in peace?

Jude pinches the tip of my breast so hard it hurts.

Kate: Haa…..Ohhh.

A dirty moan echoes throughout the room.

Jude: Words like “I like ya” or “I love ya,” can be rattled off s’easily.

Jude: Are ya the kinda woman who places value in somethin’ like that, princess?

Jude: If so, I can say as many superficial things as ya want? Ya know I’m skilled at lip-service.

His provocative stare makes my heart pound.

He’s an awful man who throws a testing look at me even at a time like this.

(But I already know….that if I hesitate, I can stay next to this man.)

Kate: I don’t need anything superficial. Just give me your heart, Jude.

Jude: Haha…..

When I pressed my lips against his and our tongues entangled, Jude narrowed his sadistic eyes and a gleam of pleasure shone from their depths.

Kate: Kyaah…..!

The next moment, my body was pinned to the desk.

Jude: Yer not knowin’ when to quit, ’n yer brazenness ain’t so bad.

Jude: …..Now since ya heard it yerself, be sure to get that through yer skull.

Soft lips press against the entrance of my ear.

Jude: Kate, yer my woman. So….

Jude: I’ll never make ya unhappy, ‘n I’ll never let ya leave.

Jude: …..That’s the price to pay fer ya puttin’ a curse on me.

A deep voice pours out as if branding my mind with words of affection so violent they left me breathless.

Still, to me they were more exquisite than any expression of love.

Jude: …….Say somethin’.

(The words I have been longing for from Jude…...)

I could only look up at him, like the moon floating at the highest point in the sky.

His voice vibrated within my ears, sending ripples of pleasure not only through my body, but also deep in my heart.

Kate: Jude, please don’t let me go. Just being with you makes any hellish place feel like heaven to me.

This is the payback for Jude bestowing a curse on me.

Jude: Haha... Yer happiness is so cheap.

Kate: It's not cheap at all. Rather, it's like I finally got my hands on the most brilliant jewel in the world.

Jude: Sucha idiot. Even that analogy of yers is lousy.

Kate: Hehe, I thought you’d say that.

Jude: Really?

Our smiling gazes intertwine and kiss each other at the same time.

After that, I gave my naked body up to Jude, like I was offering everything up to him—

Kate: Mnmmh…Ohh….!

Jude's heat thrusts into the deepest part of me and while his hips rock wildly, he bites down on the peak of my breast.

Kate: —Oh.

Jude: So, feelin’ pain’s what gets ya off, does it?

Jude: Oh my, how shameless of ya to get this wet.

His teasing voice caused a wave of pleasure to rise from deep inside my stomach.

Why does it feel so good to be pinched or bitten so hard there?

(While still inside of me, he’s played with my nipples until they tingled, and I’ve lost reason countless times.…...)

All I can do is tremble as the sensation of heat invades my insides.….

Kate: Ahh, haa…no, Jude….

My bare skin is littered with with a myriad of bite marks on the neck, collarbone, and upper chest.

It’s a pitiful sight, but I wanted more of Jude’s marks.

Jude: Ya like it when I torment ya, dont’cha?

Jude: Lookit yer erotic face ‘n arched back, yer a bonafide masochist.

With my hands pinned to the desk, unable to move, Jude aimed for my sensitive spots.

He bit hard into the base of my perked breast, letting a warped heat sink in.

Kate: AHHNN!

It hurts, but it feels so good.

My body having experienced pleasure for the first time, was no longer able to control itself.

My eyes watered from bliss, and my quivering back arched as I clenched down him.

Jude: I’m soaked. My clothes just got all wet.

Kate: I-I’m sorry….Mmhn, oh Jude, stop….it’s too deep……Ahn!

Jude: If I don’t stop it up, it’ll gush out ‘n I won’t be able t’do anythin’. So be grateful that I’m pluggin’ it up fer ya.

Despite that, it’s like my sense of pleasure has been destroyed, and I shamelessly keep flooding out.

Jude: It’d feel amazin’ if I poured mine inside ya, ‘n mixed it all together wouldn’t it?

Kate: ……Haa.

Jude's hands trailed down to my belly, making me feel a tingling sensation deep inside.

His fingers that were lathered with nectar pinched hard on the sensitive spot at my entrance.

Kate: AHN!

Honey spills from the crack between our joined bodies…..

Jude swirled his hips slowly while teasing the tip of my slit with soaked fingers.

Kate: Jude, it feels so good….being tortured….in so many places at once.

Jude: Beg me more, Kate.

Jude: Want me…..more.

Jude’s breathing became ragged as he covered my lips, and his heat grew larger, prying open my insides even deeper.

Listening to him breathing into my ear, I fell into his heat—

[Main Story Master List] [Mad Love Chapter 25 + His Side Story]

Soooo uhhh, ahem......and my girl ACTUALLY shot someone!!!

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @goustmilk @aceuuuuu @yamaguchisaori @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

#jude jazza #Jude Jazza Route #ikevil jude #ikevil translations #ikevil #cybird translations #ikemen villains translations #jude jazza translations #ikemen villains #Dividers: @.natimiles #mdni banner: @.cafekitsune

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saturnyo · 1 day ago

Text

Fragile Trust

Pairing: Sugardaddy Joel x reader

Warnings: Transactional relationship dynamics (sugar baby/sugar daddy), Possible depictions of anxiety, guilt, or emotional conflict, Caretaking stress/burnout, Emotional manipulation/power imbalance themes, Family illness/disability (special needs sibling)

WC: 4.3k

Summary: You never wanted this—not the arrangement, not the money, and certainly not him—but when your little brother needs more care than you can afford, you do what you have to, even if it means selling a part of yourself you swore you never would. Joel Miller isn’t what you expected; he’s gruff and distant, but not cruel, fixing things quietly and watching you with a careful, guarded kindness you didn’t think was possible. You tell yourself this is just survival, just a transaction, but in the silence between visits and the rough edges of his quiet presence, you start to feel safe—and that scares you more than anything.

Song Choice: Work Song by Hozier

A/n: This request is from @glitterspark. I hope you enjoy it !!!

The apartment is silent in the thick summer heat, broken only by the soft rhythm of Eli’s breathing from the next room. It’s a constant reminder of why you’re burning yourself out. On the kitchen counter, a stack of envelopes looms—each one stamped “OVERDUE” in angry red, a doomsday clock ticking louder every day. No matter how much you scrape together, it’s never enough. Every doctor’s visit, every new prescription pulls you deeper into debt. You’re not really living—you’re just treading water in a sea of bills and broken promises.

The weight of responsibility fell on you the moment your parents died in that awful car wreck. You adored your brother. He was everything. Without hesitation, you became his caregiver. Some days are okay—Eli cracks jokes, flashes that bright grin. Other days, he lies in bed, pain carved into his features after another brutal physical therapy session. But even then, his smile doesn’t waver. It’s his way of helping you, of trying to keep you afloat.

Outside of work, there’s nothing left. No social life. No free time. Just hustle. You juggle multiple jobs and desperate side gigs, and when you can’t keep up, your so-called friends drift away. They complain you never go out, that you always bring Eli along. But they don’t understand. They never tried to. You’re alone, drowning in responsibility, with no warning and no instruction manual—just shoved into it like a baby bird forced to fly.

By day, you work at a gas station, dealing with the worst kinds of people when tempers are short and caffeine hasn’t kicked in. By night, you slap on a tired smile and wait tables at a greasy diner, begging for tips from rude customers just to scrape together a living wage.

Every day feels the same. Nothing ever changes.

Until one night.

You’re halfway through another soul-draining shift at the diner when you notice him—a new customer. That alone is rare. You know every regular who drags themselves in here at this hour. This is the kind of place people come to when they’re blackout drunk at 3 a.m., because the food only tastes decent after enough booze.

So he catches you off guard.

He’s sitting quietly in the back corner booth of your section. Gruff, but put together. He doesn’t look drunk. He doesn’t look like he’s running from anything—at least, not right now. Everyone has secrets, sure. But this guy… he looks like a working man. The kind who uses his hands. The pads of his fingers are worn, calloused. He picks at them absentmindedly when he thinks no one’s watching. His face tells another story.

There’s gray in his hair, but strands of brown still hold on. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose as he studies the menu like it’s an exam he doesn’t want to fail. Deep lines mark his skin—etched by years of effort, of loss, of quiet endurance. And when his eyes meet yours, they’re sharp. Tired, but alert. Strong.

You walk over and recite the same line you’ve said a hundred times.

“My name’s Y/N. I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you?”

He looks up at you, and for a second, something shifts. You’re not a caregiver. Not a worn-out girl stretched between jobs. Not the invisible one scraping by. For just a moment, you’re you—nothing more, nothing less.

His eyes soften like he sees it too—something in you that mirrors something in him.

“Just a coffee,” he says, voice quiet. “Black. No sugar.”

It’s nothing grand. But somehow… it matters. You smile, and this time—for the first time in years—it is genuine.

“Of course. I'll get that started for you.”

Since that night, every Thursday at 3 a.m., he walks in—same time, same seat in your section, and always orders the same thing: a black coffee, no sugar. You never catch his name. He never offers it, and he never asks for yours. It doesn’t seem important. What grows between you doesn’t need labels.

Each week, you exchange a few easy words. Light conversation. Sometimes a joke. Sometimes a quiet sigh shared across a table that feels more like an island than a booth. You mention your brother and your struggles; he mentions his work at a local construction company, the both of you complaining about the idiots you work with. On your break, you find yourself sitting with him more often than not, nursing your own cup of coffee as the diner hums around you. You soak in the quiet warmth of something—not quite friendship, not quite anonymity. Maybe it’s companionship. Maybe it’s just routine. But it’s comfortable. Steady. Like a hand resting gently on your back.

Then, four weeks in, everything shifts.

You’re late to work. Not just a little late—late. You’d had a rough night with Eli. His physical therapy left him in agony, his body tense with pain he couldn’t explain and you couldn’t fix. He couldn’t sleep. So you stayed in his room, rocking him gently, whispering soft nothings, your arms aching but holding firm. You stayed with him until his breathing evened out and his body slackened into uneasy rest. As soon as the home nurse arrived—an overworked woman with tired eyes who gave you a nod and nothing more—you grabbed your keys and bolted. You didn’t even stop to throw on makeup or tie your shoes properly. You just drove, speeding through red lights and praying the universe would cut you some slack, just this once.

You burst through the back door of the diner, hair messy, shirt wrinkled, heart pounding. And when you step onto the floor, breath still ragged, there he is.

Already sitting in his usual booth.

Already waiting.

He wasn’t as upset as your boss was. The manager stood there with a deep scowl on his face when you walked out onto the floor, berating you out in the open.

“You are forty minutes late!” he hisses, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Do you think people care about your sob stories?”

You stood there breathless and exhausted. Too tired to argue or give a weak excuse as to why you are late. Your manager won’t hear it.

From across the restaurant, in the corner, his jaw tightened slightly at you being yelled at. It wasn’t right. Every night he comes in here, he sees you running yourself ragged back and forth across the restaurant carrying multiple plates of hot food and drinks, never showing an ounce of displeasure. It came to your surprise when he walked up, coming to your defense.

He walks with calm, measured steps toward the front, towards you. You’ve never seen him stand up before; he’s commanding without even trying.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his voice calculated, careful, drawing out each word, poised and reading for your manager to say even one stupid word.

“This doesn’t concern you, sir,” your manager speaks, faltering a bit underneath the man’s gaze.

“Well, it is if you’re berating the only waitress here who knows how to do her job.”

That shut him up. Tight-lipped and hands clasped in front. You blinked, a bit dumbfounded as to why a stranger would help you. Every other customer in the building was looking at you now.

“She’s good at her job,” he continues. “She’s respectful. She works hard. And maybe if you treated her like a human being, then maybe you wouldn’t have so many people quit on you.”

There’s a moment of silence. Your manager’s face drops, red with embarrassment before turning away and walking into the kitchen. He muttered something about getting back to work.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” you manage out. “I'm okay.”

“Joel.”

“What?”

“Joel… it’s my name. I figured it’s about time I tell you.”

His name on your lips felt nice. His name matches him perfectly. In that moment, him gently holding your arm and asking if you are okay, you realize for the first time in a long time—you actually are.

Later that night, after your shift ended, your feet aching as you walked to your car, you watched the clock the entire night, time slowing down whenever you did, frustrating you to no end. The trek to your car seemed endless, your hat lopsided on your head as you ripped it off in frustration. Your uniform stained in ketchup and mustard mixed in with the scent of coffee.

Finally reaching your car, you start to open it but then you hear footsteps approach behind you. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t need to. You already knew who it was. Turning around, you see Joel standing there in his flannel-clad glory. He seems nervous, almost unsure. From the time you've known him, Joel never seemed the type to ever be nervous.

“You seem exhausted,” he finally said, almost rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I am… work was tough today,” you stated. “Hey, I want to thank you for earlier today. You know, about how you defended me.”

“Of course. You didn’t deserve that,” Joel stopped completely, taking a few more steps forward before continuing. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You lifted your eyebrow quizzically toward him. “About…?”

“About how hard you work. And then also taking care of your brother. It’s hard, and one day it may break you.”

“I don’t need handouts or charity, and I truly don’t need a sugar daddy,” you exasperated. “I’m not a prostitute.”

His face suddenly blanched like a horror movie; your words washed over him like a tsunami.

“Oh no, that’s not—I meant…” he stuttered. “I would never expect that from you. All I want is, well, a companion.”

“A companion?” you asked. It was suspicious to you that he, of all people, was asking you this. There’s no doubt he’s a good man, attractive even, but that’s not who you are.

“Someone to talk to so I’m not alone all the time. I have plenty of money to spare, and I would rather that go to someone I could help.”

Your heart lurched a bit at his words. For a man who seems to have his walls up, his words are very sweet.

“Just someone to talk to? And you would help me pay my bills?”

“Yes, and whatever else your brother needs.”

You considered his offer. Like, really considered it. It was tempting. He offered to help with bills and groceries, and that would certainly help knock off a chunk of your debt.

A part of you knows you should decline. The offer seems too good to be true. But this was something that would never happen again, and your brother needed you more than ever.

You said yes.

And that changed everything.

From then on, you and Joel settled into a quiet routine. He came to your diner job like normal every Thursday at 3 a.m., and in your free time—whenever that was possible—you visited him on his break at work. You would talk to him on the phone; you eventually laughed with him and leaned on each other.

It all started with puzzles. That morning, he came over to your place to meet Eli for the first time. You had just gotten home from the grocery store, and he was there waiting for you with a cardboard box tucked under his arm. Joel offered to carry your bags inside, and before you could protest, he was already walking through the threshold of your home, bags in hand. Eli had peeked out from around the corner of the hallway, his head cocking to the side in curiosity.

“What’s in the box?” Eli asked.

Joel glanced over to you, you giving him a nod of permission.

“Puzzles,” Joel said simply. “Used to do them with my daughter.”

A simple mention. It almost seemed to come so casually to him when he said it. But you noticed the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and his grip on the cardboard box of puzzles seemed to tighten.

Joel didn’t miss a beat.

“Would you like to finish the puzzle with me?” he asked Eli. Your brother’s face lit up like a Christmas tree because, despite you, Joel is the only one to see him for more than his disability. He saw him for the bright, precocious boy he was. You watched him help Eli over to the spot on the floor and start to put the pieces together. Going into the kitchen to start on dinner, you watched in awe at how easily Joel and Eli got along. It was hard for your brother to make friends. They bullied him or didn’t include him in any activities, and it obviously bothered Eli—but he still looked to you with a smile to not worry you.

After a while, you could see that sitting on the floor was growing uncomfortable for Joel. His legs were going numb, and his back ached, but he didn’t complain. He just sat there, talking with your brother, and continued putting the pieces together.

The second time he came over was a night when Eli wasn’t doing well. It was a particularly difficult evening — your brother was in pain, couldn’t sleep, and no amount of rocking him back and forth or sitting with him helped. Before you even thought about it, you picked up your phone and called Joel. It was 2 a.m., and you thought he wouldn’t answer. But after two rings, his deep voice hummed through the speaker.

“Is everything okay? Is it Eli?” he asked, clearly startled and worried.

“Can you come over? Eli isn’t doing too good tonight,” you murmured, your voice on the edge of tears, choking back a sob.

Without hesitation, Joel said he was on his way. Twenty minutes later, he was at the door — disheveled and in disarray, but concern etched in his smile lines. You ushered him into Eli’s room, where he was groaning in pain. Joel’s face faltered, disheartened that someone so young had to suffer like this. Rushing over, he sat on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on Eli’s shoulder.

“Joel?” Eli whispered.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s me.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

For the rest of the night, Joel didn’t talk to him in the annoying baby voice most used when they found out about his condition. Instead, he spoke in a normal tone. Their conversation was about football, favorite movies, and even foods. Eli’s pain was quietly forgotten as he slowly drifted off, his breathing evening out.

You and Joel walked silently out of the room. When you were far enough from the bedroom door, you collapsed into Joel’s arms, letting out a sob. His arms wrapped around you with such compassion it literally took your breath away. He held you there in the living room, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” over and over again. From then on, the blossoming friendship between you two began to shift into something new—something unexpected.

The third time he came over, there was an old, worn guitar in his hands. You were surprised to see him with it when you opened the door, not knowing he played. Joel smiled warmly at you and Eli as he stepped inside, inhaling the scent of vanilla and jasmine that permeated the air. It was your favorite scent — a candle Joel had randomly bought for you one day, saying, “I thought of you and thought you might like it.”

He began bringing small gifts over — things you and your brother liked. He never asked for anything in return, only asking if you liked it and giving a small smile of satisfaction. Settling onto the living room couch, Eli wobbled over and sat on the floor beside Joel’s feet.

“You play guitar?” Eli wondered, eyes brightening with wonder at the instrument. One thing Eli loved more than action figures was a guitar, and he had always wanted one for Christmas.

“A bit. It’s been awhile, so I might be rusty,” Joel answered. He glanced at you, a silent understanding passing between you. You thanked him with a light nod, and he returned a half smile.

His fingers began to dance over the strings, playing a familiar tune. Your heart swelled as his voice started carrying the words, obviously nervous, his eyes focused on his fingers. Joel seemed at peace — whatever was hurting him, hurting you both, was gone for a time.

Bringing gifts, playing your favorite song on the guitar, and many other things weren’t part of the original agreement you made. But was it even the agreement that brought him here and made you want to see him?

The fourth time he came over, you had the house to yourself. It was rare, but Eli had finally made a good friend in the apartment complex. She begged to let him stay the night, and you trusted her parents, so you agreed. The smile on Eli’s face, seeing someone who genuinely wanted to hang out with him, was refreshing — maybe many good things were coming for both of you.

There was a knock at the door. Worried something had gone wrong with your brother, you bolted over and swung the door open with force.

There stood Joel.

His hands were clasped behind his back, clearly hiding something from your gaze. You let him in as he revealed what he brought over.

“I didn’t mean to bother you tonight, but…” He stopped, then continued, “I didn’t really want to be alone tonight. Just needed someone to talk to.”

Your heart melted seeing your favorite wine and food in his hands. A few weeks before, he’d admitted what happened with his daughter and how, since then, he’d been alone. You understood — your own parents had passed away.

“Joel… of course. You know I don’t mind,” you said, not mentioning the deal. Neither of you had brought it up since the day you made the agreement. It was a simple silent understanding, slowly turning into something different—something neither of you could yet put a label on. It was somewhere between friendship and something beyond.

You couldn’t even remember when he stopped knocking. Maybe after the sixth, seventh, or eighth time. By then, Joel’s presence had become a comfortable constant in your and Eli’s life.

Sometimes, like tonight, he just wanted to be with you.

Joel stood at your kitchen table, placing down some real food — not takeout — and a bottle of wine. An expensive one; you recognized the label.

“You spoil me,” you murmured. You walked over as he placed his hand on the curve of your back, pulling out a chair for you. Little things like that came so effortlessly — it wasn’t strange, weird, or uncomfortable. It felt… right.

“Don’t gotta be spoiled, just treated right,” Joel shrugged, a smile playing on his lips.

You watched him for a moment as he moved about, placing the deliciously cooked dinner on your plate and pouring the wine. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, muscles flexing slightly as he popped the cork. You hadn’t really noticed how careful he was with everything—how careful he was with you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, settling beside you.

You nodded, sipping from your glass. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… weird being still. Eli’s at his friend’s apartment again, and I’m here — it’s silent.”

Joel leaned back, his knee brushing yours. “Yes…but now you aren’t alone.”

Those words hit you like a freight train. You always had your own back, but here he was — a guy who was once a total stranger — now sitting with you, being extremely loving.

“Thank you, Joel, for all of this.”

“Of course, darlin’. You know you have me now.”

After dinner, you two sat on the couch watching a terrible rerun of an old movie — half paying attention, half watching Joel’s eyes flicker back and forth following the characters. He was handsome, that was undeniable. He was safety, security, and something you now could not live without. Slowly but surely, over time, you, Eli, and Joel had become a family — a concept that almost faltered when you lost your parents, but Joel rushed into your life, making it shine as bright as the morning sun.

His hand drifted over to you, grasping yours in a gesture that felt like a second chance — a second chance at happiness. You laid your head on his shoulder as Joel placed a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered a bit longer than usual, like he was imprinting something into your skin.

You let out a deep sigh, sinking into his embrace.

“You sure you’re okay?” Joel asked.

“I’m more than okay, especially now. You really have my back?”

“Of course I do. Always.”

You sat up and leaned in slightly, your breath brushing his jaw. He tensed at your closeness. “Do you really mean that?”

Joel placed his hand on your face, his lips just inches from yours. “Yes ma’am, I do.”

His lips were soft as they started to move slowly against yours. It was tentative at first, like he was asking — like he was always asking — but when you didn’t pull away and parted your lips slightly, your hand shifting up his chest, everything changed.

The movie droned on in the background, already forgotten and unimportant. His hands cradled the sides of your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as his kiss deepened. His fingers slid through your hair behind your ears, giving him access to your neck. He looked to you for permission, and you nodded weakly, drunk on the heat of the moment. The moment his lips touched the softness of your neck, a moan fell from your lips. It was fucking exquisite — the way he so easily found your sweet spot, just below your ear — one hand cradling your head, the other digging into the soft curve of your hips.

It was like he knew you so well without trying — not because he didn’t want to put forth the effort, but because all along he noticed the tiny things: the good, the bad, and the ugly. It wasn’t some ulterior motive; he just wanted to know the woman he became entranced with while sitting at a diner in the dead of night. He saw you — a woman clearly burdened by something, still moving like it didn’t affect you in the slightest. To Joel, you were the strongest person he knew — carrying a weight that would break most, but you? Oh no… you embraced it. Held it up and kept going because of the love for your brother. He admired that. It was why he wanted to help you, and when you agreed, he had no idea it would turn into him loving you. But he held back, not wanting to scare you off or make it feel like that was the only reason he was always there.

Joel’s hand on your hips moved down to your thighs, gripping them harder. He pulled back, making you whine a bit at his lips not being on you.

He chuckled before caressing your cheek again. “Darlin’, I can give you whatever you want. But are you sure you want this?”

You groaned, gripping the collar of his shirt. “Of course I want this. I want you.”

“But the agreement…” he began before you interrupted.

“You and I both know damn well this,” you said, pointing between you, “what we are now isn’t about the agreement anymore. It’s something entirely different. So yes, I’m sure.”

With that, his resolve shattered. He kissed you again, more desperate and hungry. He was starving, and you were the bread. His hands roamed your body, learning every curve and dip like a test he didn’t want to fail. His pace was slow, teasing. Joel wanted to bring out the side of you that had been locked away under the pressure of work and life. In his arms, under his lips, you felt at peace. He brought pleasure on a scale you’d never known. His fingers danced at the bottom of your shirt, waiting for your permission.

You let out a breathless “yes” as he took off your top. His pupils dilated at the sight of you.

“Fuck, you…” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe you were there. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. It’s about time you realized it.”

He gently unclasped your bra, giving him the perfect view of your breasts. A low growl came from his throat, entranced by how perfect they looked. His thumb brushed slightly over one nipple, and your hips jerked at the touch. You threw your head back, savoring it as Joel’s mouth sucked on it.

It was white-hot lightning shooting through your veins and up your spine. He gently laid you back on the couch, cradling you as his weight settled on top. His tongue licked your nipple, blowing warm breath that made you moan his name.

“Say it again… please.”

“Joel… God, I need you.”

He groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips. His mouth trailed lower, kissing your collarbone and stomach. Each kiss sank deeper, like ink staining paper. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint—coiled in every movement, in his shuddering breath.

He wanted you.

But more importantly—he wanted it to mean something.

“I’ve waited for this,” he muttered against your stomach, every word hot and reverent. “Thought about it more times than I’ll admit.”

You whined, arching your back slightly. “Then stop thinking.”

Joel smiled against your skin. “I’m not gonna stop.”

You laughed breathlessly, pulling him back up to kiss you again, to remind him—and yourself—that this wasn’t just a moment.

It was the beginning of something real.

#joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader

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crazyyluvr · 24 hours ago

Note

My brother forced me to rewatch Sakamoto Days for the 8th time after I exposed him to the anime 💀

And now I can’t stop thinking about, like, Shin x old assassin partner that supposedly “died” in the line of work when in reality, said partner faked their death to have an easier retirement like Sakamoto

It could be platonic or romantic, whichever you decide to choose ✨😋

Hey, So... I'm Not Dead!

pairing: shin asakura x ex assassin!reader (written with fem in mind but can be read as gn i think!)

wc: 1.8k words

note: the rewatching is so real though, although I have yet to rewatch sakamoto days LMAO. thank you for the request, i had fun with this one!! i hope this meets your standards. enjoy!

Shin swore he was hallucinating.

His eyes kept darting between the cash register and the face of the customer that recently entered the shop. A new face — well, to shop it was, but not to him.

Lu must have spiked his drink with something strong. Or one of Sakamoto's more violent thoughts of killing him had messed with his head.

Because there was no way it was you that was going through the instant ramen isle, perfectly alive and well.

The last Shin had heard of you, it was a death notification.

You had worked for a different organization, but you and Shin had collaborated often on various missions. Shin had grown used to your unorthodox style to the point that it had gotten hard to work with anyone else. You were recklessly calculated, taking risks that made it seem like you didn't expect to make it out alive, but you always did.

Which was why it came as a shock when he saw your face one day on the board his organization put up for hitmen that had been killed in action, almost three years ago.

He didn't exactly know what to feel about it. If Shin was feeling bold enough, he would probably consider you a friend. Well, you were the closest he had to one, but that didn't really mean much. You were the only one who tolerated him enough to invite him to the bar after work, where you yapped about your life (he knew that you were lying about most of it — but he could never really find out the truth. Of all the minds he had ever read, it was hard to understand yours). When Shin was bored in between assignments, he'd find himself texting your number, and you'd talk about the stupidest things.

It didn't take long for his face to start burning every time you smiled at him, or his heart to start racing when his thoughts somehow always end up about you. Of course, he put his feelings aside — being anything other than professional as a hitman was dangerous.

He couldn't really believe that you had died. After everything the both of you had been through together, it almost seemed like your heart just refused to stop beating, but death was a common thing in this line of business. The news had hit him like a freight train, but he knew that dwelling on it would make the grief even worse. All he could do was move on and make sure that he didn't meet the same fate.

That's why he felt like his brain was going to explode at the present moment.

Why was he the only one in the shop? Out of all the times Lu had to go to the bathroom and Mr. Sakamoto stayed outside to eat his ramen and read his newspaper, it had to be now!

Shin locked his eyes to the back of your head, mentally adjusting his psychic ability to try and tune in to the frequency of your thoughts, but he found himself struggling.

No way was it actually you.

It must be a trick of the light. Maybe the customer just coincidentally looked like you and had a difficult mind to read. After all, doppelgangers are a real thing (Shin didn't really believe that, though). Or maybe you looked common. (You most certainly didn't, especially not in Shin's eyes.)

When you — the customer — finally picked out an instant ramen cup to buy, you faced Shin properly, and Shin swore his brain actually froze.

It was you. It had to be you.

Or was he just hallucinating the flash of familiarity in your eyes?

"W-Welcome to Sakamoto's," Shin stuttered out, finally remembering that regardless if it was actually you, he had a job to do. "Is this all you'll be having?"

You — the customer, goddammit — nodded, giving Shin a polite smile that made Shin feel dizzy. "Yes. Thank you."

If it was actually you, why weren't you properly acknowledging him?!

"That'll be 150 yen," he said, blinking furiously to get himself to focus.

By the time he handed you your change and bagged your ramen, Shin still didn't have the confidence to properly talk to you until you were halfway through the sliding doors.

"Wait!"

You paused immediately, looking over your shoulder with a curious look. "Did I forget something?" You asked.

Shin shook his head. "I just wanted to ask, uh- what's your name?"

The customer offered him another smile. He never thought he would see that smile again.

Just when he was actually convinced that it was you, the "stranger" answered his question.

"It's Larry."

Shin blinked once. Then twice.

"Huh?" The surprised sound escaped him before he could stop it.

Your persona fell as you laughed out loud, a sound that shook your entire body as you clutched your stomach. You stepped back inside the shop to let the doors close behind you and you laughed at Shin's misery.

"What's going on?" At this point, Shin didn't really know what to believe anymore.

"I'm — I'm sorry," you gasped, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "For a psychic, you're just — you're still so easy to tease, Shin."

Shin's shoulders dropped, along with his jaw as he stared at you with wide eyes. "It's actually you?" He uttered your name like a prayer.

You gave him a smile, a genuine one this time. "Long time no see, partner. How 'bout we catch up outside over ramen? I already asked Mr. Taro if I could snatch you for the rest of your shift."

Yeah, Shin's brain is probably broken at this point.

—————

Shin still had trouble processing what you just told him.

“Wait, wait,” Shin put his hands up, as if that could help make understanding easier. “So you’re saying that you faked your death.”

“Yep.”

“For three years.”

“Mhm.”

“So you can live out retirement in peace?”

You shrugged, eating another bite of your ramen. “That’s pretty much it. The assassin life gave a lot of money, but in the long run… it does more harm than good.”

You didn’t have to dive into the specifics for Shin to understand. He knew, better than anyone, the toll that being a hitman can take on a person. It removes the lightness from them, making them see the world in nothing but shadows.

The haunted look in your eyes was still there, but it was much less apparent now. He could relate; ever since he quit being a hitman to work for Mr. Sakamoto, he’s felt much lighter than he’s ever felt in years.

However, the psychic still had questions.

“I thought you were dead for real,” Shin pointed out, a quiet chuckle escaping him, but it wasn’t that humorous. “It was hard to believe, but I eventually got used to the idea that I would never see you again.”

You sighed, slumping back in your chair. It was a familiar sight; you always sat the same way whenever you and Shin would hang out together in your usual seats in a crappy bar. “I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I wanted to detach myself from that life completely.”

“And that included me.” It wasn’t said out loud, but Shin understood the message.

You frowned in slight guilt. “You weren’t part of the bad things during my life as a hitman; quite the opposite, actually. But…”

You looked out onto the setting sun, the light hitting your face and basking you in the last rays of its warmth. “But I knew that if I told you, it would make leaving harder than it had to be.”

Shin stared at you. You, alive and well, the harsh lines of a life of blood and death softened on your face and on the corners of your eyes.

Although Shin always thought you looked beautiful, he could see that you looked best as an ordinary civilian, whose biggest concerns was not how to eliminate their next target, but something simple, like what they would have for dinner, or what movie to watch tonight.

Retirement suited you, even if you were a little too young for that.

"So," you cleared your throat, grabbing your cup to drink the soup. "How about you, how have you been?"

"Uh..." Compared to your life, his wasn't that interesting. You know, except for the fact that he spontaneously decided to retire as well, that Mr. Sakamoto basically adopted him and Lu Shaotang, and that there was an active bounty on his boss' head. "I've... never been better, actually."

You grinned knowingly. "Retirement is much more fun than killing people for a living, right?"

Shin offered you a meek smile. "Yeah, I guess so. I get why you'd go to such lengths to leave it all behind."

"Exactly," you nodded, downing the rest of your soup, and laughing when Shin wrinkled your nose at the food you willingly chose to consume.

"Nonetheless,” you hummed, “I’m glad our paths crossed again. In all honesty, I kinda missed you, partner.”

Shin didn't know how to take that. You, missing him? How... weird.

The thought of being missed by you made his heart jump a little in his chest, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling at all.

"I... missed you too," Shin replied, mentally cursing at himself for sounding so awkward.

But you didn't comment on it. You just smiled.

"Now," you clapped your hands together, standing up. "It's getting late, and I still got some errands to run, so I should be going. I'll pass by when I'm free."

Shin jolted out of his seat. Had that much time really passed by? It felt like it had only been a few minutes since you had seen each other again, and frankly, he didn't want to part ways so quickly.

"Or," you glanced at him, your smile turning teasing as you tossed your used cup over your shoulder. Without even having to look, it landed inside the trash can behind you. "You could, you know, ask me out this time."

Shin paused, his face suddenly burning up in a bright shade of red. "W- What do you mean 'this time'?!"

You raised your hands up mockingly. "Oh I'm sorry, were you the one who asked to hang out at the bar after every other mission? Or the one who would drag you to the park, or the rooftop of the old organization, or —"

"Okay, okay!" Shin cut you off loudly, laughing. "Fine. Let's meet up for coffee next time. My treat."

You gave him another soft smile, on that made him weak in the knees. "Alright. I'll hold you to it, Asakura. See you then."

You waved goodbye, and Shin didn't go back inside the store until he saw you turn a corner, leaving his sight.

He let out a great sigh, looking up at the few stars that sprinkled the sky.

Coffee next time, huh?

He let out a chuckle, smiling as he went through the sliding doors, Sakamoto telling him through his thoughts that they should close up soon.

I'll look forward to that.

#shin asakura #shin x reader #sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto taro

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