#starless lovers

[wonderswritings]

Starless Lovers {11}

Summary: They fell from the sky. We roamed the earth. We were always meant to clash. 

Warnings: The 100 Themes, Angst, Death, Blood, Unrequited Feelings, Slow Burn, Possibly more to come

Pairings: Lexa x Sister!Reader, Bellamy Blake x Fem!Reader (eventual)

War has always been brewing. With twelve clans, each with different ideals, it was always going to happen. But tensions rise when they come, the people from the sky. We watched from a distance, learning. But then they attacked, and if there's one thing all the clans can agree on,

Blood must have blood.

Starless Lovers Masterlist | Tags

We've reached the end of season 2! Thank you for sticking around! If there's an interest in season 3, let me know! I don't really want to go further if there's no interest. Enjoy!

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Bellamy rushed through the halls, carrying you in his arms.

“I can walk.”

Bellamy shook his head as he glanced down at you.

“You’re injured. You’ll just slow us down.”

You huffed, biting the inside of your cheek. How dare he? Insinuating that you’re weak just because you’re injured? Before you could respond, Bellamy was pushing a door open. You made a face as you looked around, eyeing the equipment and cages.

“What is this place?”

Bellamy walked forward, moving to sit you on a table.

“Harvest chamber.”

You watched as he walked around, opening different drawers and cabinets.

“It’s where they kept your people.”

You made a face, clenching your jaw.

“Where are my people?”

Bellamy walked back towards you, setting the things he had grabbed down on the table next to you.

“Gone.”

You tilted your head to the side, watching as Bellamy started to mess with the things he had grabbed.

“What?”

Bellamy glanced at you.

“They’re gone. I came back and your people were gone.”

You made a face as Bellamy grabbed your hand, causing you to tense, trying to jerk your hand from his grasp.

“Hey, no stop. I’m just trying to help.”

He lifted his hands, holding them up in front of him.

“I just want to help. You’re bleeding.”

He tilted his head to the side, slightly making a face as he looked at your hands.

“You are bleeding, right?”

You nodded, casting a glance to the blood that was around your wrists, your knuckle bleeding as well.

“Yeah. My blood is black.”

Bellamy tilted his head to the side.

“Black?”

“Mhmm, like my sisters, we’re natblidas, our blood is black.”

Bellamy nodded slightly, motioning back towards your hands.

“May I?”

You just looked at him for a few minutes before you nodded, letting him take your hand in his.

“I’m just gonna clean them and then wrap them, alright?”

Bellamy looked at you, only moving to actually start when you gave him the go ahead. You watched as he cleaned the blood from your hand, his movements careful and gentle. After he wrapped your hand, he did the same to your other hand, cleaning and bandaging it.

“Anywhere else, that you’re injured?”

You shrugged slightly.

“My side and my hip, but they’re already bandaged.”

Bellamy looked down, eyeing your side.

“What happened?”

You shrugged, glancing up at Bellamy.

“Probably the same as what they were doing to my people and yours.”

Bellamy tilted his head to the side, still looking at your side.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to check it?”

You nodded, humming softly in response.

“What happens now?”

Bellamy lifted his gaze, looking at you.

“Now I free my people. We’ll hide you somewhere and when my people are free, we’ll get you out of here too.”

You shook your head, moving to get off of the table, standing in front of Bellamy.

“I won’t hide. If you’re going to free your people, I will help.”

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You looked at the three people standing in front of you, tilting your head to the side.

“So-”

You lifted your hand, pointing at them as you spoke.

“Maya, Jasper and Monty?”

Bellamy nodded, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes. They’re my friends.”

Maya’s eyes were wide as she looked at you, a hint of fear in her eyes.

“You… you’re the Dark Commander.”

Nodding, you glanced at her, watching as Jasper moved in front of her, his grip on his gun tightening as he glared at you, slightly moving his gun towards you.

“Why is she here Bellamy?”

“Woah, woah.”

Bellamy moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from their sight.

“No, stop. She’s helping us.”

“Her people left! What good is she to us?!”

You leaned up on your tiptoes, looking over Bellamy’s shoulder, looking at Jasper.

“You plan on freeing your people with just the four of you?”

Jasper looked at you, glaring.

“Your people threw a spear at me!”

You shrugged slightly, tilting your head to the side.

“You did not die.”

Jasper’s mouth fell open, his gun lowering.

“That is not-”

He shook his, huffing.

“That’s not the point!”

Bellamy shook his head.

“None of this is the point. Riheda is helping us, and she is coming with us.”

Lowering yourself back down, you tilted your head to the side, slightly glaring at Bellamy’s back as he spoke.

“We’re not leaving her here. She’s on our side.”

Bellamy turned, looking down at you.

“Right?”

You nodded slightly, looking up at him.

“For now.”

Bellamy’s lip quirked up slightly.

“Good enough for me.”

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Octavia was sitting on the ground against the wall, her sword in her hands and she spun it.

“It’s about time.”

She got up when she heard a noise from the chute, taking a deep breath.

“Fox.”

When she heard footsteps, she grabbed her sword, carefully walking forward, preparing to fight when she saw Clarke running.

“Octavia. You stayed.”

“Screw you. Of course I stayed. I know where my loyalties lie.”

“We have to get in there.”

Octavia grabbed Clarke’s arm, steering her towards the chute, letting her see Fox’s body.

“If that was possible, do you think I’d still be out here? Why did Lexa sound the retreat?”

“She made a deal with Mount Weather, freed the Grounders, and now we’re on our own.”

Clarke walked towards the door, banging on it when Octavia rushed forward, grabbing her and pulling her back.

“Stop! They’ll know we’re here. What about Lincoln? There’s no way he would have gone along with a plan like this.”

“He didn’t. They took him.”

Clarke lifted her gun, Octavia scoffing as she quickly reached out, lowering it.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I am getting through that door.”

“And that’s your plan? Bellamy’s counting on you. Everyone’s always counting on you.”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

“You trusted Lexa. You let a bomb drop on Tondc. You let all those people-”

“I am doing the best I can!”

“Yeah? Well, it’s not good enough.”

The door opened, Clarke lifting her gun as Octavia readied her sword when they saw Bellamy, his gun aimed in front of him.

“Bellamy.”

Octavia hugged Bellamy as he walked out of the door.

“I knew it. You two are too scrawny to drill.”

Octavia hugged Monty and Jasper when Maya walked out, Octavia taking a step back.

“Hey.”

“It’s all right. She’s with us.”

You appeared in the doorway, Octavia’s eyes widening slightly when she saw you as you stepped through the door. Clarke looked up, clenching her jaw when she saw you, stepping forward and grabbing you, slamming you back against the wall next to the door, pressing her arm into your neck.

“Your sister betrayed us!”

Your eyes hardened slightly as you looked at Clarke.

“My sister did what was best for our people.”

“Your people?”

Clarke pressed her arm harder into your neck.

“What about my people?! We had a deal!”

You tilted your head to the side, a slight wince on your face as Clarke dug her arm in harder, lifting her gun and placing it against your forehead.

“You would’ve done the same.”

“No! Because I keep my word! I wouldn’t have turned my back like Lexa did!”

Bellamy stepped forward, grabbing Clarke’s arm.

“Come on, stop. She’s not the enemy. It was her sister who took the deal, not her. She didn’t do anything.”

Clarke gasped softly as Bellamy slightly pushed her back away from you, shaking her head as she looked up at Bellamy.

“You’re defending her? You?”

Bellamy shrugged slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Like I said, she didn’t do anything. She couldn’t have, trapped in a cage.”

Clarke scoffed, shooting a glare at you as you rubbed your neck, Bellamy glancing back at you before he looked back at Clarke.

“Where’s your army?”

“Gone, just like yours. Say you have a plan.”

“Not really. We need to talk to Dante. Maya says he’s in quarantine.”

Maya’s tank started to beep, Jasper checking it.

“Thirty minutes. And we just changed it. That can’t be right. It’s her last tank.”

“Hey. We’ll find you another one.”

“All the supplemental oxygen is on level five.”

“Then we have to get you to level five.”

“Five isn’t safe for any of us.”

“We’ll take the trash chute again. It will work.”

“To get in, maybe. Maya’s right. Every soldier in this mountain is there. We’ll never make it out.”

“We can do this. We’ll split up.”

“Okay. You guys go for Dante. We’ll help Maya.”

Clarke reached out, grabbing your wrist, glaring.

“You’re coming with us. I don’t trust you.”

You scoffed, pulling your wrist free.

“En ai nou wich yu op.” (And I don’t trust you)

Bellamy shook his head, walking forward, his hand resting on your back as he gently pushed you forward, shooting Clarke a look as he passed her.

“Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

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You walked behind Clarke and Bellamy, Monty walking next to you, Bellamy occasionally looking back at you as you all walked down the hall to quarantine. You felt bare without your sword and knife, the knife that meant everything to you. Bellamy opened the door, walking in first, followed by Clarke and Monty, you walking in last, staying near the door.

“Hello Clarke.”

“Sir, we need your help again.”

Wallace looked up at the camera in the corner of the room, causing Monty to shake his head.

“It’s okay. I took out the camera from the junction box in the hall. We can talk freely.”

“No one’s watching anyway. Thanks to you, they’re all on level five.”

“You’re not.”

“No. I’m not.”

Wallace looked over at you, grinning slightly as he stepped forward.

“Esmeray, the Dark Commander, Riheda.”

You tensed as he stopped in front of you, looking you up and down.

“My son said he had captured you. But I did not believe him.”

Wallace turned, walking towards the table in the corner before he walked back towards you, your eyes widening slightly when you saw the familiar sheaths in his hands.

“Not until he brought these to me. The craftsmanship of these is quite remarkable.”

You looked down at the knife, reaching out for it, glaring at Wallace when he stepped back, shaking his head.

“I did not say you could have them. Afterall, they were given to me.”

“They weren’t his to give, and they’re not yours to take. They are mine.”

“Yet they are in my possession.”

“I can change that.”

Bellamy walked forward, grabbing your knife and sword, pulling them from Wallace’s grasp, handing them to you as he moved to stand in front of you, glaring at Wallace as Clarke stepped forward.

“Please. We don’t have much time.”

Wallace turned towards Clarke as you slipped the sheath of your sword over your shoulder, adjusting your sword so it rested on your back. You looked down at the knife, pulling it out of the sheath slightly, a small smile on your face as you looked at the knife, Sato’s knife.

“We need a way to get our people out of this mountain without killing everyone.”

“He’s not going to help us.”

“You cut the power, risking the lives of everyone in this mountain- my people, even the ones who helped you.”

Clarke stepped forward, glaring at Wallace.

“We knew they’d be safe on level five. We made sure not to destroy the turbines so you could repair them. We’re the good guys here, not you.”

“Tell me, if we released your people and theirs, what would’ve happened to mine?”

Clarke took a deep breath before she turned, looking at Monty.

“Can you get us into the command center? We need to see what’s happening on level five.”

“No problem.”

Bellamy walked towards Wallace, grabbing his arm.

“Let’s go. You’re gonna help us, whether you like it or not.”

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“Where’s he going?”

“The dorm. Monty, can you do it? Can you irradiate the level?”

“I can do it.”

Bellamy shook his head, looking at Clarke.

“Wait a second, Clarke. We need to think about this. There are kids in there.”

“I know.”

“And people who helped us.” Clarke took a deep breath as she looked up at Bellamy, anguish on her face.

“Then please, give me a better idea.”

You stepped forward, tilting your head to the side.

“I may have one.”

Bellamy and Clarke turned, looking at you.

“What is it?”

“It was Emerson who killed my guard and brought me here. Cage took a personal interest in me, in my blood.”

You lifted your knife, pressing it into the palm of your hand, drawing blood, showing it to Clarke.

“My blood is important to him. Trade me, for your people.”

Clarke slightly tilted her head to the side, thinking what you said over as Bellamy stepped forward, shaking his head.

“No. No way. We’re not going to just hand you over for our people.”

“It could work.”

I nodded at Clarke.

“It could. And if it works, no one has to die.”

“Except you. You would die.”

You glanced at Bellamy, shrugging.

“Ai gonplei ste odon.” (my fight is over)

Bellamy slightly glared as Clarke’s face fell into one of recognition.

“No, this is wrong, and I won’t let you do this.”

You looked up at Bellamy, glaring as you huffed.

“You cannot stop me. You do not have a say over what I do. The choice is not yours to make.”

You turned your head, looking at Clarke.

“This is between me and Clarke.”

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“Clarke, this is wrong.”

Clarke glanced at Bellamy, shrugging slightly.

“This was her choice.”

“And what happens when Lexa finds out that we willingly traded her sister for our people?”

“She traded ours for hers.”

Bellamy huffed, shaking his head.

“Fine, what happens when, godforbid, they kill her? What happens with Lexa and the Grounders then? We’ll be at war, again.”

“That’ll be a problem for later. Right now, my concern is getting our people out of this damn mountain.”

“It’s still wrong.”

Clarke’s grip on the radio tightened as she turned, looking up at Bellamy.

“I hear you, but repeating it over and over again doesn’t change the fact that this is happening. So either get on board, or shut up.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw, huffing as he lightly glared down at Clarke.

“She asked you to give her sword and knife to Lexa. Will you?”

Clarke turned, looking back up at the camera feed.

“I said I would.”

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Emerson grinned at you as you turned the corner, walking towards you.

“You’ve come back.”

You glared at him as he placed the cuffs on your wrist, leading you down the hall and into the room where Skaikru was being held. The table Raven had been lying on was empty, everyone staring as you were led in, Cage walking towards you, smiling.

“I knew you wouldn’t get far.”

He nodded at Emerson.

“Put her on the table.”

You were shoved forward, forced onto the table. They strapped you down, Cage glancing down at you as he spoke to the doctor.

“Let’s not waste time with this one. Go ahead and drain her. And don’t bother using just the one hip. She has two for a reason. When she’s dead, we’ll move to the next.”

You glared, looking over at Cage, a slight growl in your voice.

“We had a deal. Me for them.”

Cage grinned as he stepped closer to you, looking down at you as the doctor moved around you, preparing the drill.

“We did, but you see, the thing about deals, they’re always changing. And you can never truthfully trust the enemy.”

The doctor inserted an IV into both of your arms as you glared at Cage.

“We had a deal!”

You jerked against the straps, yelling at Cage in both English and Trig. Your yells turned to screams as the doctor and his assistant began drilling. You jerked against the straps, one of the guards stepping forward and placing more straps around your arms, legs and chest to keep you from moving around too much.

“How long?”

The doctor looked up at Cage, slightly tilting his head to the side.

“Sir?”

“How long until she’s dead?”

“Forty-five minutes?”

Cage looked down at you, sneering.

“Make it sooner. And someone shut her up.”

The guard who had strapped you down jerked your mouth open, forcing a strap into your mouth, attaching it to the strap that went over your forehead, forcing your head still. Your screams were still heard, but they were muffled now.

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Bellamy clenched his jaw as he watched the camera feed, looking over at Clarke.

“He didn’t keep his word.”

Clarke sighed softly, shaking her head.

“No, he didn’t.”

“I-”

Clarke turned, looking at Monty, making a face.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Because I did it. All we have to do is pull this. Hatches and vents will open, and the scrubbers reverse, pulling in outside air.”

Bellamy looked over at the camera feed, seeing Emerson preparing to blow the command center door.

“He’s gonna blow the door.”

“Clarke, we’re out of time.”

Clarke placed her hand on the lever as she looked over at the screen, seeing where Esmeray was still being drilled into, though she was no longer moving, Jasper being locked up with the other prisoners as Octavia and Maya were overtaken by guards.

“My sister. My responsibility.”

“I have to save them.”

Bellamy placed his hand over Clarke’s.

“Together.”

Clarke nodded, and together they pulled the lever.

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Octavia rushed into the dorms, her eyes wide as she looked around.

“Hey-”

Octavia looked over at Kane.

“Get the keys from the guard.”

Octavia nodded, rushing to the guard that was laying dead, searching his body for the keys. Once she found them, she rushed to Kane, unlocking his cuffs. Kane rushed to check on Abby while Octavia helped unlock the others. Clarke and Bellamy walked in not long after, Clarke rushing to her mom while Bellamy rushed to where you laid on the table. He was gentle but quick as he undid the strap around your forehead and in your mouth, letting them fall to the floor. Octavia appeared on the other side of you, undoing the straps around your arms and legs.

“Bell-”

Bellamy slightly shook his head as he checked your pulse.

“Just get the rest of the straps off."

Octavia nodded slightly as she removed the remaining straps.

"Bell..”

Bellamy lowered his head, listening for your breathing before he started chest compressions.

“Bellamy.”

Bellamy slightly shook his head, glancing at Octavia.

“We can’t let her die.”

Octavia sighed softly, looking down at you.

“Bellamy, she’s gone.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw, slightly shaking his head.

“No, she’s not.”

Bellamy continued chest compressions before he leaned down, placing his hand under your chin, slightly tilting your face up, giving you a few rescue breaths when you gasped, your back arching slightly as Bellamy leaned back, his fingers brushing under your chin as he looked down at you, watching as you opened your eyes, a dazed look in your eyes as you looked around, confusion on your face.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

You lifted your gaze towards Bellamy, seeing Octavia standing next to him.

“It’s over.”

Clarke appeared, looking you over, eyeing the IV’s that you were attached to.

“We need to bring her back to Camp Jaha. We’ll give her medical treatment there.”

“What about the blood bags?”

Clarke looked over at the IV bags that contained your blood, nodding slightly.

“Bring them. She’ll need a blood transfusion, and giving her red blood may not work for her. Just-”

Clarke sighed softly, slightly shaking her head.

“We’ll take the IV’s out and we’ll go and find something we can carry her out on.”

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The walk back to Camp Jaha was long, and you were in and out of consciousness as you were carried, Lincoln and Octavia walking next to you as you blearily looked up at Bellamy.

“Why?”

Bellamy looked down at you, slightly making a face.

“Why what?”

“Why did you-”

You winced in pain when those carrying you slipped, your face scrunching up as you looked at him.

“Why save me, again?”

Bellamy looked away, slightly clenching his jaw.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“The right thing would have been to let me die.”

“Shof op, Riheda.” (shut up)

You turned your gaze to Lincoln, grinning slightly.

“You can’t tell me to shut up.”

Lincoln huffed a small laugh, shaking his head.

“Just close your eyes and rest.”

“I can’t. I close my eyes and I see him. He calls to me.”

Bellamy and Octavia shared a look as Lincoln made those carrying you come to a stop, placing his hand over yours.

“Do not give in, Esmeray. Sato can wait. It is not your time, so do not give in. Gonplei.” (fight)

You sighed softly, looking up at Lincoln, your voice soft.

“Ai ste noden kom gonen.” (I’m tired of fighting)

“Gonplei idowe.” (fight anyway)

Your eyes fluttered as you turned your hand, weakly holding onto Lincoln’s hand.

“Tell Lexa-”

Lincoln panicked slightly when your eyes closed, your head falling to the side as you passed out. Octavia turned towards Lincoln, placing her hand on his chest as she looked up at him, Lincoln watching as you were carried into Camp Jaha.

“She’ll be okay, Lincoln.”

She reached down for his hand, taking it in hers.

“Come on. We’ll go to medical.”

Bellamy came to a stop as Clarke stopped next to him.

“I think we need a drink.”

“Have one for me.”

Clarke slightly shook her head.

“I’m not going in, take care of them for me.”

“Clarke-”

Clarke shook her head, glancing at Bellamy.

“No. Seeing their faces everyday is just gonna remind me of what I did to get them here.”

“What we did. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Clarke looked towards Camp Jaha, slightly shaking her head.

“I bear it so they don’t have to.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

Clarke shrugged slightly, a small smile on her face.

“I don’t know.”

She turned, wrapping her arms around Bellamy, giving him a hug.

“May we meet again.”

Bellamy sighed as Clarke walked off, walking back towards the forest.

“May we meet again.”

Bellamy turned, taking a deep breath as he walked into Camp Jaha. He made his way through the camp, walking into the Ark towards medical. He saw Octavia standing outside of medical, looking in through the window. He stopped next to her, seeing Lincoln sitting next to your bedside.

“You did the right thing-”

Bellamy glanced down at Octavia as she spoke.

“Saving her. It was the right thing.”

“Yeah.”

Bellamy looked back into medical, watching as someone worked around you, hooking you up to an IV and heart monitor.

“Now we get to live with our choices.”

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Starless Lovers Tags: @kloy344  @bxnnywatts @kibumslatina @smol-book-nerd @newbooksmell777 @bamboozledbooks

Everything Tags: @jedi-dreea  @sammysgirl1997 @scarlett-witchhh @cevans-winchester @rafecameronswhore @jennmurawski13-writes 

The 100 Tags: @3leni  @topazy  @vxidnik  @kloy344 @lexajaye  @dani5216 @kelseyd07 @bxnnywatts @thebookisbtr  @kibumslatina @cryinghotmess @smol-book-nerd @mariaenchanted  @rafecameronswhore  @multi-fandom-lover7667 

Lexa Tags: @kloy344  @wonielover @bamboozledbooks @rafecameronswhore

Bellamy Blake Tags: @topazy  @vxidnik  @hftff-lol  @lexajaye  @dani5216  @im-sidney  @kelseyd07  @wonielover  @bxnnywatts @daisy-the-quake  @mariaenchanted  @bamboozledbooks @rafecameronswhore  @multi-fandom-lover7667

[mostlyghostie]

A double commission! Fantasy in one, romance in the other.

The customer specified that very nice edition of The Starless Sea and I’m happy with the special level of rumpledness I’ve managed on it.

Shop

[convulsionofhonesty]

top 10 books of 2022

i read 50 books this year and i’m going to share my top 10 and what i loved most about them (in no particular order)

1. writers & lovers by lily king - this book legitimately changed my life by reminding me of how desperate i am to lead a creative life. there are certain books that make you want to be a writer. this is one. featuring clean-cut, economical prose that gets straight to the point, and the point is diving into one of the most compelling characters i’ve had the honor to spend a story with. i read it twice this year because i will never be ready to part with this main character.

2. last night at the telegraph club by malinda lo - this was a reread for me and i appreciated it infinitely more the second time. the vividness of the writing strikes me as a particular triumph of this work. you can feel every emotion, see and hear every setting. that and a deeply engaging narrative make it one of those books that i continue to think about constantly.

3. crush by richard siken - my favorite poetry collection i have read, and reread, both within this year. he is one of those writers that reminds you how amazing it is to be a human that can feel and say so much. sharp images, glorious repitition, and stunning formatting that has inspired much of my own adventure into the world of unique poetic structure on the page.

4. homegoing by yaa gyasi - probably one of the most ingenious books i have ever read. to this day i fail to understand how it is possible to cover so much in so few pages and not leave the reader feeling like something is missing, but she certainly does it. sweeping multi-generational story where each chapter reads like both an exquisite short story that could stand on its own and a part of the richly woven whole. phenomenal novel that i wholeheartedly believe will be a classic in the future.

5. the idiot by elif batuman - another character that weaseled her way into my brain and has never left. a plotless, indulgent, meandering character study that struck such a cord with me. i read this at the exact right time in my life and for the week that i was making my way through it, there was no distinction between the narrator and myself in my mind. i don’t know how to explain this, but i was narrating my own life through this character’s eyes. captivating.

6. piranesi by susanna clarke - an exemplary work of fantasy that explores the nuances of knowledge and gratitude, balancing expertly between critiquing the pursuit of knowledge and power and exalting wonder, curiosity, and science. a book written in journal entries which flows perfectly and never feels choppy. leaves you thinking differently about the world.

7. open water by caleb azumah nelson - a short novella you can read in a day, and you will have to, as it is so enchanting and haunting that you cannot stop. it fully took over my mind until i finished it. it features second person narration which creates an unmatched level of closeness between reader and narrator. triumphantly evocative, intimate, and precise prose. the most poetic novel(la) i've had the pleasure of reading since on earth we're briefly gorgeous.

8. the great believers by rebecca makkai - the highlight of this book is the dense prose; every sentence feels perfectly chosen and hits you just as hard as the last. there is never a break, never a breather from the stunning writing. for that reason it is a slow book to move through, but in the best way. also accomplishes using dual pov/timelines in a way that does not detract from the fluidity of the work. very heavy subject matter but imbued with hope, gratitude, and affection.

9. the starless sea by erin morgenstern - prior to reading piranesi, this was my favorite fantasy read of the year. the world is so engrossing and the formatting of the novel is unique and inventive. vivid world builidng and a meandering, cris-crossing plot that enthralls from the beginning. an ode to humanity and the interconnectedness of the stories we tell.

10. babel by r.f. kuang - a lengthy novel that is well worth the time it takes, featuring a slate of morally ambiguous young people bumping up against the limits of their social power. similarly to piranesi, it embraces curiosity, drive, passion, and learning while chastising the intrenchment of power in academia. kuang cements herself as figurehead of the historical fantasy subgenre, tapping into its full potential.

[writerlunawinters]

“Strange, isn’t it? To love a book. When the words on the pages become so precious that they feel like part of your own history because they are. It’s nice to finally have someone read stories I know so intimately.” ― Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea

[thesilverlock]

| 𝑍𝑒𝒳𝑎𝑙  𝑀𝑜𝑛𝓉𝒽 |

EXILE; Day 22 - ’The Tower’ 〖 Jey / ᶜᵒᴿᴿᵘᵖᵗ Astral 〗

SURPRISE! A sequel, with a twist! Dark side of the Lovers card~ Doubling this with my Year of OTP prompts too! Kinda a clash of “You’re the only one I could turn to for help” and AU of Choice!

Allow me to debut my newest undercurrent obsession au~

Basically "what if sh!t went down and Astral became fully corrupted”. Put loosely ssfdgfh. More on that in due time~

But right now I can at least answer this; How does Jey fit in to it?

Well, Astral kinda needs Jey to plain survive because these dark energies are not 'settled'. The corruption will overwhelm and kill Astral if left alone. It needs monitoring and regulating so that the Imbalance doesn’t cause a fundamental breakdown. (hello necessity for the literal Son of Balance~)

As for Jey himself — we know that once you have his loyalty (especially love), nothin' else matters. He’s not ever been fully committed to Astral World, and is sure no stranger to rebellion. And then you’re going to have the person he cares about most in the world ask him to run away together, and leave all else behind…in smoke~? It’s not even a choice.

So there you have it. New villain(?) power couple in the house yo.

@zexalmonth

[wildwood-faun]

listening a Lot to this audiobook but unfortunately it's not because I'm hooked it's just because I want to be done with it

[bdazzlebooklover]

Legacy of the Drow

[sombernstarless]

I couldn’t sleep

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Length: 10k

Rating: explicit 18+

Warnings: unprotected PIV sex, choking, edging(ish), some fluff, confession

Steven Grant is your neighbor/best friend/person whom you’ve had a crush on for months. There’s a sudden shift in your dynamic when he finds himself drenched with rain water outside of your front door, dying to confess feelings you thought weren’t reciprocated.

A/N: This is my very first post so kind words and/or constructive feedback would be appreciated

The London rain pelted the windows harder than usual. You usually enjoyed the light rainfall on quiet nights. Some days you had trouble sleeping and the trickle of water on the balcony calmed you to a deep slumber. Tonight, however, the quiet rain turned into a full blown thunder storm. Your calm quickly turned to slight panic as you barricaded yourself with weighted blankets and tea on your couch.

A random baking show you found on Netflix played on your laptop that sat on the small coffee table in front of your couch. Usually you would be watching it on the tv that hung on the wall between two windows, but your irrational fear of thunderstorms made you unplug everything in every outlet, fearing the whole apartment would catch on fire. Instead of your lamps that are usually on around the place, you opted for candlesticks placed variously around the room to keep it dimly lit.

You know, you’re fun at parties.

You were deep into the baking competition on your screen when a knock on your front door mimicking the thunder startled you. Wearily, you pushed all of your protective barriers off and stood from your seat on the couch.

Your tiny sleep shorts rode up your thighs, disappearing under the extra large white t-shirt with puppies printed on the front as you took small steps towards the door. You found it as a joke at a local thrift store, but fell in love with its corniness over time.

On the tips of your toes, you peek through the peephole and spot your favorite neighbor on the other side. You wasted no time opening the door to see what he needed, but your mouth hung open when you saw the state he was in.

“Steven…?” your voice trailing.

His head quickly turned to you which resulted in water splashing in your vicinity. He was soaked from head to toe; his black long sleeve clung to his hard chest and his grey sweats turned dark from all the water. Curly ringlets fell onto his forehead, almost covering his red eyes that looked even more tired than usual. He was adorably disheveled which made you grin with pleasure.

“Hey- um- I went for a short walk which uh…kind of turned into a long walk a-and then this rain came out of nowhere and I started to run back home, but I seemed to have dropped my key and now I’m locked out.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how Steven’s face turned red from embarrassment after his ramble. You covered your mouth quickly as his mouth downturned into a playful frown. His chest heaved, probably from running all the way back home. You were positive his skin was red from the heavy downpour underneath his clothes.

You stepped aside, allowing him access into your apartment. He started to kick off his shoes as you shut the door and locked it behind the both of you.

“Steven, what on earth were you doing out this late anyway?” you asked.

“Was just t-tryin’ to kill some t-time,” he replied, teeth chattering between every other word.

Your clumsy and ditzy neighbor, Steven Grant, had a lot of trouble sleeping at night. He typically blamed it on a sleep disorder he’s had since before you met him, but lately it’s been getting worse. Steven normally talked to himself and sometimes you would laugh when you heard his rambles through the thin wall between your apartments, but some days it’s as if he’s in a full blown argument when he’s the only one in the room. The fact that he had to get right back up and go to work with people that hardly paid him any mind worried you even more. You knew that he was an odd fellow, but that’s precisely what drew you to him in the first place.

If you were to be honest, you’ve always had a bit of a crush on Steven. He was charming and witty and thoughtful, even though he believed none of those things to be true. You’ve lived in your apartment for about a year and Steven’s been the only one to introduce himself or make conversation.

You figured everyone chose not to speak to you because they were pushing their 60’s and had their own lives to live, but when Steven moved in it was like being seen for the first time. He always asked you how your day was on the elevator, helped you carry your groceries to your place when your hands were full, and he even offered you extras of any dinner he makes when he comes home from work. You did the same in return and formed one of the purest friendships you had ever had. Some days you longed for more, but you knew better than to move in on Steven when he clearly was going through enough.

“Rough night again?” You asked.

He turned to meet your eyes again after neatly lining his shoes up against the wall by the door.

“Just a bit, yeah,” he said just above a whisper.

Your heart sank as his eyes darted down to the floor. Silently, your hand reached for him which made him look back up to you. You smiled lightly and gestured for him to grab it to which he took reluctantly.

“Let's get you some new clothes, yeah?”

He hummed in response as you pulled him to follow you further into your living space. You heard the small pitter patter of water dripping onto the floor, but you didn’t mind it a bit. Steven had fallen quiet which always made you queasy. He was typically a rambling mess and was always quick to fill the silence, but he didn’t say a word as you entered the bedroom portion of your apartment.

Most of the apartments in the building were studio style which called for high ceilings and open spaces, as well as the kitchen, living room, and bedroom all sharing the same air. You were thankful it was spread out to the point where they almost felt like separate rooms instead of one.

The both of you stopped in front of your dresser and you reached for the drawer that had mostly Steven’s clothes in it from when you would borrow some of his things and magically forget to give them back. You grabbed a white t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants, handing them both to the shivering mess standing behind you. He mumbled a small ‘thanks, love’ before grabbing them from your hands, shooting you a faint smile of gratitude. He walked past you and into the bathroom to change, barely shutting the door behind him.

“Where should I put my wet clothes?” His voice echoed as you started towards the warm couch.

“You can put them in the hamper, I can wash them and give them back.”

You heard the ruffling of clothes as you sat back down in your spot next to the arm of the couch. You thought it best to pause the baking show on your laptop and wait for Steven to retreat from the bathroom. Thunder shook the building again which caused you to uncomfortably shift in your seat.

“You alright?” Steven asks as he strolls over to you with his hands in his pockets.

Steven knows you’re afraid of storms. Sometimes he’ll sit with you in the dark and won't leave until it’s either calmed or you’ve fallen asleep.

“Yeah, you know how it is,” you reply with a playful huff at the end, not wanting to worry him.

He gives you a sympathetic smile, but you notice that he’s still shivering when he travels around the coffee table to take a seat next to you on the sofa. He sits a bit too far for your liking, to which you motion for him to move closer so you can securely wrap your arms around his ice cold body. Your arms snake around his neck and he reluctantly mimics your actions by placing his comfortably around your waist.

Steven hardly ever did any kind of exercise, but he had a lean figure that led you to believe he was more athletic than he made himself out to be. His grip around you made you conclude he probably needed your touch more than you needed his. Slowly, you leaned back against the arm of the sofa bringing Steven with you so you were both lying comfortably. He sighed into your touch and turned his head so he wouldn't be face first in your neck, caressing your sides with his thumbs as you ran a hand through his drying hair. You took notice of how much it’s grown from the last time you commented on how you thought he’d look nice with it longer.

“Are you alright, Steven?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asks, his voice still quiet.

“Of course I do,” you reply, now massaging his temple with the pads of your fingers.

“It could be….a lot better.”

He sounded defeated, which told you not to prod him anymore about it. You would ask him on a later date when he was more equipped to do so, right now you chose to focus on getting him warmer.

You changed the subject to ease the growing tension you felt in his shoulders. “Was your walk nice? Before the rain I mean.”

“Mhm, s’quiet.”

“I bet it's pretty out there at this time, I’ll have to go with next time, hm?”

You figured the man weighing on top of you was smiling from the feeling of his cheek flexing against your sternum. You couldn’t help the one that was slowly adorning your lips, thankful that he couldn’t see the giddy look on your face.

“I would have asked you, s’just I wanted to be alone,” he apologized to which you shook your head in protest.

“You don’t have to apologize for wanting space, as long as you know I’m here when you need me.”

“I know, ‘jus feel bad. Feel like a burden sometimes.”

His words tugged at your heart strings, your lazy grin now replaced with a deep frown. You shifted beneath him to look down and catch his gaze but he was too distracted to notice. His eyebrows were scrunched and his lips were downturned in a pout, clearly deep in thought.

“You’re not a burden, Stevie. I need you just as much as you need me,” you says after a brief pause

His pent up expression softened from your kind words. You took one of your hands and pushed loose curls behind his ears, putting his chiseled face on full display. He craned his neck to meet your eyes fully. The candlelight illuminated his honey brown orbs in a way that made you melt.

“Yeah?”

You smiled brightly, the smile that he loved dearly.

“Yeah, I reckon I need you more.”

He huffs playfully and rests his head back onto your chest, his arms squeezing you impossibly closer.

“Yeah right,” he mumbled. A laugh that you hoped warmed Steven’s chest fell from your lips.

Your shirt had ridden up a bit when you shifted which led to his ice cold thumbs grazing your bare waist, resulting in a small hiss that left your lips.

“Sorry! Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

You began to tell him it was fine before he had sat up in a panic, his arms digging into the couch on either side of you. His eyes searched your face for any sign of discomfort, despite your words, but he seemed to relax once he saw the grin on your face.

Steven was always afraid of crossing your boundaries even though you made sure to always remind him he’s never gotten close. You often had to remind yourself the two of you were just friends any time he faltered when reaching to touch you.

Friends, friends, friends.

This time though, his eyes took their time studying all of the features on your face. He seemed to have scanned you 10 times over and landed on your lips after each run. You felt your chest tighten as he stared longingly.

“Can I tell you the truth again?” He asks, again barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat

“Yes,” you breathed.

“I didn’t forget my key, I just um- needed an excuse to see you,” he said.

You smiled again.

“Why did you need an excuse? You know I always love to see you.”

It was true. Steven was probably one of your only friends and one of the only people you talked to on a daily basis.

While you enjoyed your alone time, you enjoyed your Steven time a little more. His history rants and mythology stories were your favorite part of your Sunday mornings. He would bring you tea from his early walks and rambled on about things that were probably pointless knowledge to others but excited him and you to your very cores.

“I wasn’t on a walk because I couldn’t sleep. I mean-“ he cleared his throat, “I can’t sleep, but it’s not the reason I was walking.”

You raised a curious brow, beckoning for him to finish. He sat up so he wasn’t awkwardly hovering over you, but remained close enough that your knees touched when you shifted to sit up as well.

“I was sitting in my apartment earlier and I wanted to see you then as well,” he started, “I was reading that book I told you about, by Jean-Paul Sartre. Do you remember?”

You nodded, “Nausea, right?” You recalled telling him about the description when you had seen it in the book store near your flat. It sounded like something he would read.

“Right, well, I was reading and I got to this bit that kind of um…stunned me, I guess. Honestly, it was the only part that truly stuck. I’ve kinda just been reading to get it over with.”

He was rambling again, but you clung to every word for dear life. You watched as he wrung his hands in his lap, another nervous tick of his you noticed over the months of you knowing each other. You wanted to reach out to squeeze them, reassure him that you wanted to hear whatever it was that was torturing him, but you knew it was a bad idea. When Steven got like this it was best to take it all one step at a time.

“Go on,” you encouraged. You shifted to sit back on your bottom and folded your legs into a more comfortable position. Steven now towered over you, but his gaze was still soft.

“I um…I got to that bit. The one that stunned me. He was talking about what it was like to love somebody. If I remember correctly he said it was ‘quite an undertaking’. It sorta confused me, he talked about love like it was this great burden,” Steven drew out the word, adding a much needed emphasis.

“‘There is a moment right at the start where you have to jump across the abyss: if you think about it you don’t do it.’ I only remember the exact words ‘cos it was the most absurd thing I’d ever read.”

You snorted at his dramatic hand gestures and enunciation. You managed to keep a calm and cool exterior, but your insides were churning at each word that left his mouth.

“Why was it absurd?” You asked.

He stilled and then shut his eyes tight, shaking his head while mumbling a small, “‘S not important.”

Once again, you began to protest before he beat you to it.

“I wanted to see you so badly, (y/n)...” he paused, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. Your name had left his mouth like a melody. Like a siren song beckoning you to come closer.

All you could do was hug your own waist and wait for him to finish.

“The days have been getting a lot harder and it seems the only time I feel a little bit sane is when I’m with you.”

The tension in the air grew thick as your heart rate quickened. You didn’t dare interrupt him, didn’t dare to think. All you could focus on was the warmth that grew in the pit of your stomach as he continued.

“I reckon I think about you all the time, more often than I remember to feed my fish,” he joked.

Steven mindlessly moved both of his hands from his lap to tap his fingers on the tops of your thighs, yet another nervous tick he had developed from any time the two of you spoke of something serious or intimate. Each touch sent a shockwave through your body that made it harder to contain every emotion building up inside of you.

“Steven I-”

“I-I’m not finished,” he interrupted.

Your mouth clamped shut and his movements stilled for just a moment. He went quiet again which made you panic even more than before. Steven’s thought process was usually done out loud so you could tell he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

You cautiously moved your hands and wrapped them around one of his. His hands were much larger than yours, but you held the one anyhow to provide him some kind of warmth. His eyes were glued to your every movement and his breath hitched when you brought them up to the side of your face.

“Keep going, I’m listening,” you whisper.

He nods in response, shifting impossibly closer to you.

“I think I- no not think- I quite like you and I can’t seem to shake this...want.”

Your heart was pounding and you were almost positive Steven could see the red tint starting to creep up your neck. His mouth was slightly parted as his eyes bored into yours. He couldn’t help but to sneak a glance at your lips again. You had a feeling as to where the conversation was going, but you didn’t want to spoil it. Not when he was finally saying everything you’ve been too scared to admit for the past few months.

You didn’t realize the two of you had leaned into each other even more. You were both standing on your knees at full height with him still towering over you. His tongue swiped his bottom lip, as if he were about to feast.

“I think of every smile that’s been caused by me, every laugh that leaves your mouth...” he trailed on.

“Forgive me for being so forthright, but gods I want to be with you all the time,” he said, his words fading into mush as he removed his hands from yours and dragged them down to grab the hem of your t-shirt.

You dared to speak. “Why was it absurd, Steven?”

You both were mechanically breathing at this point. Hot breaths were hitting each of your faces, but neither of you seemed to care.

“It was absolutely nuts because I thought of you.” With his grip, he pulled you flush against him so your head was now uncomfortably angled up and you were looking him in his eyes again. The discomfort didn’t phase you a bit as one of his hands snaked up to caress the flesh of your face.

“I thought of you, and loving you came easily.”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words. As if you had been sliced open and gutted from the inside out. “I was so messed up about it I had to leave like an absolute maniac. I thought about his words and how wrong he was until I realized I was alone in my flat while you were right next door without a single clue in the world.”

His hand moved downward to cup the side of your neck, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. His touch was static against your skin, the coolness of them doing nil to dull your nerves. Soon, your hands were covering his and squeezing tightly. One hand remained on top of his while the other explored the length of his arm, massaging and gripping to assure yourself that this was really happening.

“There was no abyss, no feeling of impending doom,” he said, shivering under your touch. “Though it felt like it when I knocked on your door and realized what I was doing.”

“And what are you doing?” You asked, pushing your fingertips past his knuckles.

Your hands had snuck from his toned arm to the center of his chest. There, you laid your palm flat and felt the irregular beat of his heart. Selfishly, you were glad he was just as nervous as you were. You knew what he was doing, knew what it was he wanted to say. You knew, but you wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to work for it.

His lips fell agape as he sucked in a harsh breath. You felt his heart rate quicken with each passing moment. Suddenly, you took your intertwined fingers and placed one chaste kiss in the palm of his hand. A bright red blush bloomed across his cheeks which made you place another, more sensual one in the same spot. Confidently, you placed a final, lingering peck on the inside of his wrist as he watched you in awe.

“Go on, Stevie,” you mumble against his now heated skin. “S’just you and me.”

“I love you, (y/n),” he says.

His heartbeat began to steady.

You breathed out a half laugh, half sigh of relief. Steven’s free hand snaked wearily around your waist. You beamed a smile brighter than a million and one suns.

“Really?” You asked in disbelief. You couldn’t help the nervous, breathy laughter that followed.

Steven returned your smile with an assuring nod. “Mhm,” he hummed in affirmation. “So much, darling.”

You had no idea when the two of you had gotten so close, but you didn’t care. Steven molded into you like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He was in no rush, but you could see the hunger in his eyes, could feel the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

Your mouth hovered over his, your breath ghosting his face. You thought he was going to kiss you, but Steven was clearly in it for the long haul. He moved his head to pebble the left side of your jaw with open mouthed kisses. The smack of his lips against your heated skin sent pleasant chills down your spine. The hand that had a territorial grip on your hip came up to tilt your head to the side so he could give your right side the same attention. You became clay in his hands and you were willing to let him mold you however he pleased. Even if he only left you out to dry in the end.

“Can I kiss you? Is that okay?” He asks, his fingers creeping past your temple to snake into your hair.

Your answer was closing the space between the two of you in possibly the best kiss you’ve ever received. It was torturously slow, the first kiss. His lips were dry against your moisturized ones. His growing stubble scratching against your skin.

Even in his seemingly lowest point, Steven was electric. Your kisses went from sweet pecks to fluid, gliding motions. His grip on your hair only tightened, resulting in a pleasant sting.

This was what you needed. His lips on yours, his words so tooth rotting you would have cried if it weren’t for the hunger emitting from the both of you.

For weeks you had cringed at yourself for staring longingly at his lips whenever he went into detail about gods and deities. You watched with intent whenever he changed a lightbulb for you in your apartment or fixed your bathroom door which always seemed to jam. Whenever you talked about your day working at the coffee shop down the street or interactions on the city transit, he stared at you and just listened. You could’ve sworn he was looking at you with the same want as when he was spilling to you just moments ago.

Every inch of you craved him.

“Open up for me,” you mumbled against him.

Steven obliged, parting his lips and granting you access. It was all tongue and clattering of teeth and neither of you bothered to come up for air. Your lips moved at an expert pace while he fell behind a bit, but where he felt short of kissing he made up for in touching you in all the right places. You leaned into him so the both of you fell into your pile of blankets, legs moving to straddle his torso.

Your lips detached and you watched him try to catch his breath as his damp curls fell from his face, the light from a candles on the coffee table now illuminating his tired eyes.

Your hand reached up to graze the side of his face, pushing any excess hair out of the way. The backs of your fingers ghosted his damp forehead to his chiseled jaw. His eyes shut while he leaned into your touch. You didn’t want to rush him, not when it was already late and you could tell he was exhausted.

“Steven,” you said.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his eyes still closed from you stroking his face and hairline.

“I love you too,” you replied.

This made his eyes shoot open. His adoring gaze was the fuel to the fire inside of you. Usually you had your head tight on your shoulders, but Steven rid you of all conscious thought when he looked at you with those brilliant brown eyes. A wide smile etched on his face, mimicking the one that had creeped its way onto yours.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah. So much, darling,” you echoed, mimicking his accent.

A playful scoff left his lips.

The two of you sat in that position for a while. You were so caught up in the moment you almost forgot about the raging storm right outside of your window. When the next stream of thunder hit, you took it as an opportunity to bury yourself into the crook of his neck.

He squeezed you tighter beneath your big tee while you wrapped your arms around his neck once again. The two of you fit snugly together, two halves of a whole.

“I know you have a spare key of mine but can…..could I stay the night?” Steven asked. His voice was still low but you could feel the vibrations in his chest.

“Of course you can, Steven,” you reply.

You took a deep breath with your nose deep into his skin. Confidently, you took it upon yourself to place a string of kisses along the length of his neck. He smelled of books and some sort of sweet cedar cologne he could never remember the name of. You would always ask him to try and find out because you thought your father might enjoy it, but you secretly wanted to buy him more for his birthday.

A low hum erupted from his throat which made the fullness in your stomach overflow with desire. You wanted him—no—needed him. Your kisses grew sloppy as your lips trailed from his neck up to his jaw and back down to a small exposed area of his chest beneath his white tee. He gripped you for dear life as your kisses became open mouthed and you moved to the other side of his neck.

“(y/n),” he whispers.

“Is this okay?” you asked. You hovered over his neck and snaked a hand up to stroke his hair.

“Y-yes,” he barely breathed.

Steven went rigid beneath you as you planted more kisses along throat, gently sucking and biting to leave small marks for him to see in the morning. He began to whimper which resulted in the heat from your body all traveling towards your core.

“My sweet Steven,” you whispered into his skin. You hoped your words seeped deep into his pores.

Steven hips jutted up into yours, creating a much needed friction for some sort of relief. His fingers dug deep into your bare hips, but the pain was synonymous with pleasure. Coming from Steven, they were the exact same thing.

“Sorry,” he choked, his hips stilling.

Kiss

“S’okay,” you mumbled to him.

Kiss

“No- well yes- but I just wanted you to know this isn’t what I came here for,” he said, practically breathless. “We don’t have to uh- you know.”

You couldn’t help the smile taking over once again. That was Steven for you. Always worried about others more than himself.

Kiss

“I know,” you reassured.

Soon, your lips were back on each other in a much hungrier kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth to which you were surprised by. Steven was getting more confident in himself by the minute which excited you even more. This kiss was less innocent than the last and he seemed to be trying to take the lead now that the shock had subsided.

You didn’t let that happen though. No, you took one of your hands and slid it underneath the white tee adorning his chiseled body. His skin was soft to the touch and was contrasted by tufts of hair surrounding his belly button. His muscles tensed and the steady beat of your kiss faltered which gave you the opportunity to take the upper hand.

While you were enjoying the heated make out session you always fantasized about, you craved more. You needed more of him and you needed to be skin to skin.

“Take this off for me, yeah?” You muttered breathlessly against his mouth.

He nodded feverishly, giving you one more small peck before you sat up enough to allow him room. He crossed his arms, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and lifting the fabric over his head. You nearly gawked at his defined chest and shoulders, but shuddered at the abrasions and faded scars littered across his skin.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tossed the shirt onto the hardwood floor. You took it upon yourself to dance your fingertips along each scratch and scrape. Some looked newer than others which made bright warning lights flash inside of your head. When your eyes made their way back to Steven’s, the lust was halfway replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and shame.

“Where are these from?” You asked, your voice etched with worry. Steven was quiet for a moment.

“It’s um…from my sleepwalking,” he said, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. One of your brows raised in question.

“Steven…”

“I swear, I’m not lyin’,” he replied in a defeated tone.

Steven sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as if he were struggling to give you a straight answer. He broke eye contact between the two of you while gently resting on his back. You could always tell your sweet man next door preferred not to talk about his disorder.

You thought it mainly because it was obvious he hardly knew what was going on himself. With all of the late nights screaming at his walls and disappearing for days at a time without saying a word, you didn’t have it in you to hold your concern anymore. Especially not when you were finally giving him the piece of you you’ve been so eager to share.

“Hey,” you said, now placing your hands on his chest again. His eyes shut from the contact as if he were too afraid to look at you again. Too afraid to show you too much.

“Steven, look at me,” you commanded.

He listened, angling his head towards you with a frown forming on his lips.

“You don’t need to do that with me, you don’t need to hide,” you assured with a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t need to tell me now but, whatever it is, I promise you I’ll listen. I don’t scare easily.”

You traced small circles over his steady beating heart. Steven placed a hand on top of yours, stilling your motions and squeezing you tight.

“Promise?” He nearly begs.

You nod insistently.

“Always,” you replied.

Steven released a breath of air as his head tilted back again, closing his eyes as he made contact with the fuzzy blankets surrounding him. He squeezed the hip he still had his other hand placed on. That fuzzy feeling had returned as you gazed at the beautiful man beneath you.

“Ugly things, aren’t they?” He asks as if he could feel your eyes running up and down his stomach and pecs.

You giggled, shaking your head at him. Steven could never be ugly, you thought to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, mischief was painted all over his face.

“Steven you’re…. gorgeous,” you admit.

It was true. Steven was one of the most gorgeous people you’d ever met inside and out. He always lived his life as what he could offer the world and not what the world could offer him. Before he ever made any decision he always thought of how it would affect others before how it would affect him. While this led to people sometimes walking all over him, that’s precisely what you loved most about Steven. His willingness to do anything in his power to make people happy.

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he says with a goofy smile on his face.

You felt the hand on your hip move up to touch the skin beneath your tee. Steven’s fingers danced over your abdomen which made your stomach swarm with butterflies. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. For the first time that night, Steven had left you nearly speechless.

“No,” you breathe.

Steven’s fingers continue roaming your skin, first caressing your stomach and then gliding to the small of your back where he traces circles. Though he practically ghosted your skin, the slightest touch was enough to almost send you into a frenzy. Your eyes fluttered shut as his other hand moved to lay flat on your left thigh.

“(y/n),” he calls

You hummed, still in a trance from his touch.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks.

“Yes.”

Before you could register what was happening, Steven was sitting up and meeting your already parted lips. His lips pressed hard against you as you practically swallowed his warm tongue. His pace was menacingly slow this time around, though you didn’t think he did it on purpose. While the kiss was steady, your heart rate was not and from the way Steven was breathing you could tell his wasn’t either.

Your sweet Steven.

Your hands found their way to his unkempt hair that was now completely dry. You tugged at his scalp which caused a very audible whimper to escape his throat. You clenched around nothing at all from the small noise. Steven pawed at you like you were the anchor between reality and fiction. You wanted nothing more than to remind him that this was real and you weren’t going anywhere.

You hadn’t even noticed the slight rocking of your hips that made him whimper again. The ball of fire in your pelvis turned into pure arousal now leaking from inside of you.

“What do you want, Steven?” You asked against his panting mouth.

You didn’t wait for his answer as you kissed either side of his face. Your lips returned to his bruise littered neck, leaving gentle kisses along the raw skin, but sucking again once you reached his clavicle.

“I…..I….” He started, but couldn’t finish. Not while you maneuver off his lap and continued to kiss down his taut chest and stomach.

“C’mon baby, use your words,” you said.

You weren’t sure where the sudden boost in confidence came from, but you couldn’t help but watch as Steven squirmed under your touch. His fists were now clenched by his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

He nearly halted once you reached the waistband of his sweats. There, you could finally see the outline of him appear from beneath the cotton material. The size alone was enough to send a shiver down your spine and you wanted nothing more than to draw another desperate sound from him.

“Please,” he painted as you kissed his clothed print.

“Please what?” You asked, hovering over the growing erection.

“Y-you don’t need to, we don’t have to-“

“I want to, baby. Just tell me what you need.”

Steven let out another beautiful noise from your reassurance. Your legs were folded beneath you and you were now sitting in the space between his spread thighs. Your back was arched tauntingly as you rested your head on his left thigh and moved your hand to massage the right, purposefully missing his now fully hard cock.

You could feel your own arousal beginning to spill from inside you, but you didn’t care. You wanted to make him feel good. Steven deserved to feel good.

“Please j-just-”

He didn’t finish as he grasped your hand and moved it to cup his dick. You watched it twitch and knew that was all the confirmation you could get from the shy man beneath you. You gave him a reassuring smile as you fingered the waistband of his sweats and underwear, teasing his abdomen once more before removing them.

Steven lifted his hips off the couch momentarily to allow you to free his erection. You scooted back, allowing him room to remove the articles of clothing all the way. As soon as the garments were discarded to the floor, you returned back to your spot before. Your mouth practically watered at the sight in front of you. He was thick and long. His dick was already weeping with pre-cum, but he didn’t dare touch himself. He kept his hands to his sides as he watched you in awe, lips parted with soft, rapid breaths leaving his mouth.

“Tell me what you like, Steven,” you said, barely touching the pulsating beauty before you. He jolted with a slight gasp when your fingers made contact with his bare hip bone.

“Let- let me kiss you again first,” he said, still straining beneath you.

Damn, you thought, another time.

You wasted no time climbing back on top of his body, the palms of your hands resting on his shoulders. Steven let you take control when your lips met again. Though Steven seemed inexperienced, you still weren't sure if he truly didn’t know what he was doing or if he enjoyed it when you ravished him with bites and kisses. Your tongues danced to the thrumming of his chest as you moved his hands to grip your thighs that were splitting to straddle him again.

“‘S okay, Stevie, you can touch me,” you whispered against his mouth. He smiled against your lips at the nickname. More confidently, he gives your thighs a proper squeeze before roaming the curve of your ass. His fingers pushed past the fabric of your shorts to grip you properly as you continued kissing.

Another low whimper erupted from Steven’s throat as your hips began to rock against his.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby?” You asked.

Moments ago you would have never had the nerve to talk to any partner the way you were doing with Steven. Last week these intimate moments were nothing more than a wet dream, but he was just your friend then. It was easy to be a friend to Steven because his love was always purely genuine.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t think actually being with him would come just as natural.

You couldn’t afford to care.

“Yes—god, please,” he breathed.

His pleading was fuel to the flame within you. God, he was so beggy. He chased your lips with urgency but you pulled away with a tut tut tut. You wanted him to beg for more.

You dared a glance down at his leaking cock. You could hear his staggered pants as you wrapped a hand around the base. The moan he emitted made you grin in response.

“Steven, look at you,” you cooed. You pumped once before swirling your thumb around the rim. You giggled when it jumped in your hold. “You’re making a mess.”

Steven managed to choke on a laugh before you began pumping his hard cock in a steady beat. His breath caught in his throat as your grip around him became a bit more firm. The next stream of his moans were guttural and carried a bass that rattled you.

“So sensitive too.”

He was practically giving you a wedgie the way he pushed your shorts higher to tighten his grip on your backside. You bit your lip from the newfound friction at your cunt from the fabric bunching at your waist. You hoped he hadn’t noticed, but your fears became correct as his eyes came in contact with you shifting to relieve pressure.

“Want you to feel good too,” he said. He was still chasing your lips and you continued your taunting by pulling away again. He continued his advances which resulted in you releasing his cock all together. He whimpered from the loss of contact and pulled your hips flush against his, chasing the feeling.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Steven?”

“Mhm,” he hummed eagerly, now settling for kissing the expanse of your throat instead of your lips that he yearned for.

“Use your words, baby,” you responded, your hands now scratching at his scalp.

Steven continued his possessive pecks without an answer which resulted in your loving scratch being replaced by a hard tug that made him meet your gaze. The tension caused another gorgeous sound to leave his kiss bitten lips. His chest heaved as your eyes surveyed his current state. His chest was both scarred and now littered with bruising hickeys. He looked gorgeous this way. You felt as though now he was the clay in your hands.

“I wanna fuck you,” he managed.

Steven very well could have undertaken you. The muscles that adorned him weren’t for show, and you could tell from the grip on your ass alone. As you tugged at the tufts of hair on the crown of his hair, Steven made no move to reverse your positions. He was enjoying the feelings of powerlessness. The beautiful noises leaving his mouth were only the cherry on top.

“M’ wanna fill me up?” You asked, moving to touch his rock solid cock. He rutted up into your touch, attempting to jerk himself in your hand. Deciding to end his suffering just a bit, you began to move your wrist in fluid motions to give him a bit of relief. “I want you inside so bad, Stevie, you have no idea.”

“C-can I touch you?” He asked, willing his eyes open through the pleasure from your hand on his cock.

“Please.”

The smugness was starting to leave your voice.

Steven was driving you mad. You felt his right hand snake from the curve of your ass to glide over your hip bone, slowing at your navel. His hand was hidden beneath the large puppy t-shirt, but his touch only worsened the state of your cotton thong beneath your sleep shorts. Only when the tips of his fingers made contact with your soaked folds did your hand movements around Steven begin to falter. His hands were calloused; from what you had no idea. You weren’t sure when you began to hold your breath, but you roughly exhaled when his middle and ring finger made contact with your sensitive clit. The sensation startled you into releasing him and laying your hand flat on his stomach.

“There she is,” he mumbled, a faint smirk forming on his lips.

It was his turn to be smug.

Steven began to apply pressure as his left hand left your bottom to hold the underside of your face, thumb resting on your chin. His wrist was bent uncomfortably, but if it was bothering him it didn’t show one his face. His fingers rubbed figure eights expertly over the bundle of nerves which sent you into a panting mess. Your mouth fell open and your eyes screwed shut as he began to pick up the pace.

“How’s that, love?” He asked. The thumb on your chin moved to tug at your bottom lip, showing off your bottom row of teeth.

“So good, Stevie,” you whimpered, rocking your hips in sync with his movements. Soon your hand left his stomach and grip his wrist, holding him in place.

“You still want my cock, sweetheart?” His middle finger slipped past your entrance, pulling a gasp from your lips. “Or do you think you can get off on my fingers for me first, hm?”

Steven barely gave you time to moan a yes before he was pumping his middle finger inside of your slick cunt. He worked you like he had done it a million times before, like this was all so familiar. His fingers were nothing compared to his thick length rest between the two of you. The tip was a bruising bright red and a pulsing vein ran down the side. Want wasn’t the word to describe the feeling; you yearned for it.

“I-inside, I want you in—ah!”

He managed a second finger inside of you which sent a string of curse words flying from your mouth. Soon after, he was stroking that spot inside of you that drove you mad. You tried to hold yourself up over his lap to give him room to move efficiently, but the more he hit that spongy patch the harder it was to keep yourself afloat. It was too good, he was too good.

“Do you have a condom, dove?” He asked, fingers still pumping in and out of you. He held your chin and panned your head down to meet his eyes. They were just as wild as yours, he wore that same look of yearning on his face.

“No, but ‘m on the pill.” His eyes darkened at the mention of being inside of you raw. “We don’t have to, I love this too,” you gestured at his hand palming your cunt.

“It’s been a while since I’ve…” he trails, you nod in understanding. “I’m clean. I want to.”

You were sure he could see your eyes darken with something wicked. It was irresponsible to say the least, but it was all you could think of since the moment he touched you. What it would be like if he came deep inside of you.

“Fuck me, Steven, please,” you begged.

The whining was new to you; you’d never been so beggy with any other man. The sex was good with the others, but the fact that it was Steven and you liked him and he liked you. You knew it would be an entirely new sensation. You were already so hopelessly addicted to the noises he made.

You released a harsh breath as his fingers left your begging cunt.

“Can I take this off? He asked, hands teasing the end of your large tee. You nodded, but beat him to the act. Soon enough, you were swiftly tugging your beloved puppy shirt over your head, revealing your breasts that were starting to feel heavy.

Steven wasn’t shy about his oggling, but he was clearly still hesitant to touch. Only when you mumbled a small ‘it’s okay’ did he wrap his large hands around them, squeezing and squishing them together. It was like watching a kid in a candy store.

“Easy tiger,” you tease, “you’ve got to help me out of these as well.” You fingered at the waistband of your shorts.

“Pretty tits,” he says, clearly still enthralled. He switched his attention to you standing to your knees to tug your shorts and underwear off your frame. Only then did he help you shimmy out of them and pull them off your ankles to toss to the floor with the other items of clothing. His mouth fell agape when he saw your cunt for the very first time.

“Pretty pussy too, gods.”

You watched his dick twitch with excitement as you ran a hand down his hairy chest. Soon, Steven was reaching for his begging cock and prodding your entrance with his swollen tip. You groaned and your eyes screwed shut as you gripped his broad shoulders for dear life. You weren’t even sure he could fit.

“We’ll go slow, okay? Just tell me how you like it.” You nodded.

Steven began pushing into you inch by inch, causing a slightly uncomfortable stretch. You hissed which caused him to stop his movements momentarily. His hand found your cheek and he beckoned you to look into his eyes. “Did that hurt, love?” He asked.

You shook your head no, but the pout on your face was probably a dead giveaway. He gave you a more pointed look which made you giggle briefly.

“Only a little, you can keep going s’okay. It’ll only last for a little bit.”

He searched your face with a look of uncertainty. Steven was afraid of hurting you, which you adored, but if he didn’t start moving again you were afraid you would explode. To reassure the concerned angel in front of you, you pecked his lips once, twice, and a third, lingering time and watched the crease between his eyebrows disappear. Only then did Steven manage to push inside of you fully which made you gasp loudly. You clenched involuntarily which pulled a string of curse words from the one who caused it.

“You’re driving me crazy, sweetheart.” He breathed. Lost for words, you kissed Steven once more before moving in lazy circles on his cock. “So fucking crazy, I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

You moved your hands from his shoulders to the expanse of his neck. There, you felt his muscles and tendons contract with each breath he took. His hips met yours repeatedly, dragging devastating moans from the both of you.

You didn’t expect Steven to be so loud. He wasn’t shy with his moans, pants, and especially not with his quiet whimpers. You would’ve buried your head into his chest if not for how beautiful he looked. His face was contorted with a look of pure lust. His eyes drifted shut as he hit your cervix over and over, his lips parted as his breathing became more ragged. You were equally a mess with his pelvic bone hitting your swollen clit with each upward thrust. The sting from before was long gone and was now replaced by the early stages of an earth shattering orgasm.

“You look so pretty, baby,” you said, pushing sweat covered ringlets away from Steven’s face. “Fucking me so well.”

Steven hummed from your praise. His eyes opened as his head lulled forward to watch himself enter you repeatedly. He groaned from the sight, squeezing your hips tight enough to leave a mark. You didn’t care a bit though; especially not when his mouth connected to your left nipple and sucked teasingly. You moaned deeply as he lapped at you like a dog. The sight was lewd enough to drag you closer to your finish.

“Stevie, Stevie I’m—fuck,” you moaned. “Stevie ‘m so close.”

Instead of speeding up like you hoped he would, Steven set a devastatingly slow pace as a means to drag it out. You whimpered in frustration as you attempted to bounce on his cock instead, but this gesture was short lived, resulting in him holding your hips steady.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” His hand found your cheek again, thumb swiping across your bottom lip; trying to get rid of your frown. “You deserve the bed.”

You yelped when Steven stood with you in his arms, hands gripping your ass so you stayed flush against his cock. You peppered his neck and jaw with kisses as he walked you to your canopy bed. The drapes were maroon and sheer in contrast with your plum colored walls. The sight briefly reminded you of the first time Steven came into your apartment and complimented the whimsical feeling of your place. You had said it was because Sabrina the Teenage Witch was your favorite show growing up.

When the two of you landed on your floral bedspread, you were on your back this time with Steven on top of you. You flinched at the returning pressure on your cervix which had Steven whispering an apology into your collar bone, leaving a kiss in his wake. He covered the expanse of your body in a way that made you feel safe. His Star of David dangled in your face, catching glimpses of light from the burning candlesticks on your nightstand.

He started his taunting pace back up and returned to lavishing your breasts. His tongue ran around the perimeter of your right nipple before covering it entirely with his moist lips. You didn’t have the energy to match his pace anymore; you wanted him to have his way with you. He pulled away, but not before tugging momentarily with his sharp teeth. You gasped when it popped free from his hold.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much, baby?” He asked. You nodded hurriedly as he sat up, pushing your thighs apart and holding them flush against your tummy. He showed no sign of speeding up which had you thrashing against him. “I need to hear you say it, baby. Then I’ll fuck you how you want me to, hm?”

“I’ll tell you Stevie, promise,” you puffed. “Please just fuck me, please.”

“Good girl.” He pulled out halfway. “My good, sweet girl,” he said, slamming his hips back into you. You couldn’t help but shriek which resulted in Steven shushing you condescendingly.

“You’ve got to be quiet, dove,” he said. His pace began to quicken. “Don’t want the whole floor to know I’m fucking this pretty pussy so well.”

“Fuck the floor,” you bite. This has Steven puffing out a breathless chuckle.

The lewd noises your cunt made plus the pistoning of Steven’s hips had your legs shaking in his hold. If the two of you weren’t in the center of your bed you were sure your head would’ve been smacking the metal bar frame with each piercing thrust. Your mouth hung open and the room grew hot from your panting. One of Steven’s hands left one of your thighs and grazed up your tummy, the valley of your bouncing breast, and finally to your neck.

“Can I?” He asks, fingers ghosting around your throat.

“F-fuck, yes Stevie please,” you answered. If it weren’t for his dick filling you up, you would’ve been embarrassed at the whining tone of your voice.

His hand wrapped around your neck just enough to produce that mind numbing pressure. You clenched around him from the rubbing of his pelvic bone against that sensitive ball of nerves. Pressure began to build as he ruthlessly slammed into that spot that drove you insane. You mewled when you felt his thumb made contact with your pulsating clit.

“Mm, too much!” you cried out. Tears began to rim your eyes.

“You can do it, dovey, I know you can.” The pressure on your throat was replaced by the soft caress of your cheek. He wiped away an escaping tear as you jolted from the overstimulation. His thumb was now hovering over your clit, allowing you to come back down.

“I dunno, Steven,” you whine, hands reaching to grip his forearm for dear life.

“I’ve got you all the way through, baby. Promise.” He seals it with a bruising kiss that almost makes you forget what you were so unsure about.

When he restarts the figure eights on your clit you begin to shudder with a threat of release. You flung an arm over your burning face which has Steven tutting and moving it away from you.

“Don’t do that, dovey, wanna see that pretty face when you cum all on my cock.”

You were still getting used to his dirty talk. Even with him buried deep inside you, it was still hard to believe your sweet and innocent Steven was capable of such words. You pulled Steven down to your level, wanting his lips on yours again. Kissing him was still unreal as well. Kissing Steven was beginning to feel like oxygen. You weren’t sure you could ever live without it.

“Touch yourself for me, sweet pea.”

You obliged as Steven steadied himself, both of his forearms now on either side of your head. The lewd slapping of his balls against your second hole and the sloppy motions on your clit were enough to have you seeing stars. Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as he fucked you silly. You could tell Steven was close as well from the way his movements faltered and the throaty moans escaping his parted lips.

“‘M gonna fill up so well, dovey. Wanna see you dripping with me.”

You whimpered against the crook of his neck.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned, not long before your cunt convulsed and your body burned with that white, hot ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Steven cursed. Soon after your orgasm, he was spilling his hot liquid into your still convulsing pussy. Your arms were tight around his neck as he fucked you through your release.

He shuddered once more before stilling his hips and gently collapsing beside you, throwing an arm over your bare chest. The both of you were out of breath and glistening with sweat. You could feel both your and Steven’s mixed release dripping from your throbbing cunt. When you lulled your head to the side, Steven was staring at you with a fond look you couldn’t quite name. Whatever the unnamed feeling was, you were positive you felt the same. Your heart was buzzing and your head was clear of everything except the man in front of you.

“Hi,” he says with a goofy grin, breaking the silence. Even in this fucked out state Steven could still make giggle uncontrollably. Your hands covered his bicep as you placed a kiss in the crease of his elbow.

“Hi,” you reply, returning a similar smile with laughter still leaving your mouth.

“Let me clean you up, dovey.”

Before you could protest he was giving you a chaste kiss on the lips and rolling over to stand from the bed. You watched as he held his softening cock in his hands and padded to your bathroom, returning with a navy blue rag. Steven wiped at your thighs and cunt gently before cleaning himself off and leaving again to toss the dirty rag into your hamper.

“Now love,” he starts as he pads back to your limp body. “I hate to ruin this gorgeous sight, but you should really have a wee before we get comfortable.”

You cursed his good judgment.

“Help me?”

Steven was a godsend to say the least. He practically carried you to your toilet and held your hand during that familiar post sex sting.

“‘M sorry, baby, but at least you won’t get an infection.”

While he didn’t need to, he helped you wipe and carried you back to your bed once you were finished. He pulled back your bedspread and sheets with one hand, and then placed you beneath them. You frowned when he didn’t slide in after you, but he quickly reassured you as he leaned down to kiss your drying forehead.

“Not going anywhere, dovey. Promise. Just gotta blow these candles out, yeah?”

You nodded in understanding which gave him the cue to go around your flat, blowing out assortments of candlesticks and tealights. You rolled to your side, the air growing cold in his wake. Luckily, you didn’t light many, which had Steven back by your side in no time.

The streetlights outside your window made it so your apartment wasn’t completely dark. He could see enough to maneuver his way around your small couch and the drop step by the foot of your bed. You felt him shuffle under the blankets and his arms were engulfing you soon after. His chin settled in the crook of your neck and his breath was soothing against your cold growing skin.

“How are you,” he said barely above a whisper.

“I’m okay, better than okay actually.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Yeah?” His voice sounded unsure. You didn’t like it.

You took it as an opportunity to turn in his arms. His hands shifted to hold onto your bare waist. His face didn’t reveal much but he could barely meet your eyes. You held a hand to the side of his neck and the other ran through the length of his hair. His eyes slipped shut when you scratched at his scalp, humming pleased at your actions.

“It was amazing Steven, you made me feel so good.”

His skin grew warm from your praise.

“You as well, really good might I add.” You chuckled at his silly emphasis on really.

“In the morning,” he adds, “I’ll bring you raspberry tea and dark chocolate biscuits as a token of my gratitude.”

This had you giggling once again, burying your face into his neck. His hand ran up and down the expanse of your back as you continued your scratching at his scalp. You hadn’t realized how tired you’d gotten until you felt the grazing of Steven’s fingernails against your spine. It was the most pleasant feeling you’d felt in a while and you figured he felt the same from how his heart rate slowed with the threat of sleep.

You knew Steven probably wouldn’t sleep much or even at all, but having him there sharing your space was enough for you. You hoped it was enough for him as well as your eyes drifted shut, giving him one final peck on his collarbone before intertwining your legs with his and letting sleep take you.

[starless-gaze]

chapter 2 of hygtg is out!!!!

find it here

i'm so exited for this one

[wonderswritings]

Starless Lovers Season 3 Preview:

“How is she?”

Abby looked up at Bellamy from where she sat behind the desk, humming softly in response.

“Riheda?”

Bellamy slightly clenched his jaw as he nodded, walking further into Abby’s office.

“Yes.”

“She’s fine, from what I can tell.” 🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

“So then why am I still here?”

“It’s uh… it’s complicated.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“It’s always complicated. You give the same answer every time I ask.”

“Because it’s the only answer I have.” 🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘 “Where are we going?”

Bellamy grinned slightly.

“I told you, you’ll find out when we get there.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“I hate surprises.”

“That’s okay."

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[icyminghao]

like you want me

pairing: jeonghan x gn!reader genre: fluff, drabble, friends to lovers warning(s): none word count: 0.8k

summary: you’re enjoying yourself at a party with some friends on just another typical night. only, a certain someone seems to keep staring at you.

“God, Jeonghan, just go talk to them already. It’s painful watching you be like this,” Seungcheol groans for the third time in the past hour, nudging his friend in pure desperation. Jeonghan begrudgingly tears his eyes away from your figure from across the room to give Seungcheol an uninterested look.

“Painful watching me be like what?”

“Your eyes have been on them the second they walked in, and they’ve never left.” Joshua pipes up from Jeonghan’s other side, letting out a chuckle at Seungcheol’s exasperated sigh at Jeonghan’s apparent obliviousness.

“…They have? I haven’t noticed.” Jeonghan quirks an eyebrow in response, failing to notice that his eyes have subconsciously made its way back to you from across the room, giggling and laughing at whatever your friends had said.

He can’t help the way the edges of his lips soften and curl up just the tiniest bit, something his friends definitely do not miss.

“You know, if you’re not going to talk to them, Mingyu did mention his interest in them a while ago. Maybe I should set them up—”

“Don’t you dare,” Jeonghan cuts Joshua off at the mention of their heartthrob of an underclassman, levelling at the latter a piercing glare that shuts him up immediately.

Dread fills Jeonghan’s senses as he turns back to where you’re supposed to be, only to be unable to spot you anywhere.

“Where did they-”

“I saw them go outside. A while ago,” Seungcheol quips, clearly amused at the sight of a panicked Jeonghan.

Jeonghan nods quickly, moving to leave the house without providing an excuse. The boys knew he’d be going after you, anyway.

Sure enough, Jeonghan finds you leaning against the front porch as soon as he steps out of the house. You’re looking up at the night sky so peacefully that Jeonghan feels bad walking into a private moment.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” you turn your head towards Jeonghan’s voice, making no move to back away as he moves to stand beside you.

“Just… had to clear my head,” you reply, returning your attention to the starless sky.

Jeonghan simply nods, subconsciously unable to tear his gaze away from you. You turn to make eye contact with him after a while, holding his gaze as his cheeks gradually flare up.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you speak up, no hint of teasing in your voice.

Jeonghan freezes. “Like what?”

“Like you… want me.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, going into flight mode, “Let’s have this conversation when you’re sober-”

“I am sober!” you cut him off, “I haven’t touched a single drop of alcohol the moment I stepped foot into that dingy house. I thought you would know, since all you’ve been doing the entire time we were there was look at me.”

Outwardly, Jeonghan stays rooted to the floor, saying nothing. Inwardly, Jeonghan is freaking out, reeling at the fact that you’d actually been noticing him looking at you at the party.

Jeonghan turns towards the sky, resting both arms on the porch. “And if I do?”

“Do what?” you reply, mirroring his actions.

“And if I do want you?” Jeonghan manages to get out without freaking out in front of you, and now it’s your turn to freeze.

You speak up after a while, “This was not how I expected the conversation to go,”

“Well, what did you expect then?” Jeonghan jests, having regained some of his composure from the silence.

“I don’t know, deny it! Get defensive! Tell me I’m being delusional!” you blabber, clearly flustered. Jeonghan smiles in endearment, resisting the urge to cup your face in his hands and squish your cheeks.

“But you’re not,” he simply replies in the softest voice he can muster, looking at you endearingly, “I’m in love with you, y/n. I have been since we met in high school, and I’m unfortunately still catastrophically in love with you now.”

Your mouth opens and closes in shock, clearly not expecting a confession. You clear your throat, a hint of a smile appearing on your face, “Unfortunately?”

Jeonghan chuckles. “Well, that’s subject to change depending on how you feel.”

“Well, then, I hope you’ll be happy to know that I feel the same, Hannie,” you grin adoringly at him, using the nickname that never fails to make him blush furiously, “I’m in love with you, too.”

For a while, the both of you just smile at each other like idiots as a comfortable silence ensues, neither of you wanting to interrupt the special moment.

“So,” Jeonghan pipes up after a while, still smiling, “do I have the honour of being your boyfriend?”

You beam at him. “Take me on a date first?”

Jeonghan chuckles, leaning the tiniest bit closer to you. “Gladly.”

a/n: my writing skills have definitely regressed 💀 but i’ve more or less finished my shorter wips now, which means i’m left with the bigger projects T-T currently working on like 2 fics at once and have a lot more to work on other than those 2 so i’ll try my best! also sorry if this is unsatisfactory 😔

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

masterlist

[zhongrin]

the art of breathing normally

— or, the ways you make him breathless so effortlessly

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, childe, diluc, al haitham, wanderer, kaveh, kaeya

◇ tags ◇ fluff, angst, comfort, spoiler/hint of al haitham's character story 5

◇ a/n ◇ yes the title is taken from that one chapter title in “for better or worse” webtoon hehe i love dillon and cedric so much they’re cute

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli finds it hard to breathe (in a good way) when you wrap yourself around him in one way or another. you can drape your arms around his waist, nuzzle yourself against his side, or even jump up to koala-hug him (although he will still scold you lightly as he drops everything in his arms in favor to support you - he just doesn’t want you to get hurt.)

but his favorite has to be when you lace your fingers between his own (preferably gloveless) ones, before tightly squeezing, a pressure not enough to hurt but strong enough to leave tingles upon his skin, making the geo markings along his arms pulse and blink in happiness.

he just loves to be reminded and reassured that you’re here. you’re right here in front of him and you are here to stay. you’re here for him with your tender love and warm smile. and you’ll always be here, etched permanently in his heart, the most unyielding stone eroded in remembrance of your beautiful soul.

it was a spontaneous decision on your part when you slip into bed with al haitham and offered to read his book for him out loud instead tonight. he ponders over it for a bit and decides to relent, wanting to know what is it that made you so hooked on hearing him read his books audibly on normal days. your voice fills his senses as he settles onto his pillow, and his lips tug on the corners as you stumble upon difficult terms you’ve never heard before. he decides to show you mercy by telling you the correct pronunciation, and you thank him before continuing, as cheerful as ever, unashamed of your lack of knowledge - it’s one of the things he adores about you, he thinks. this happens several times, and as he relaxes, your lover found his gaze magnetically straying towards you, examining your features as you read.

al haitham’s lungs seizes momentarily when your words falter as you sensed his stare, a patient smile full of such love and adoration blooming on your expression like the freshest bloom of the padisarahs in the garden. a memory lost to time resurfaces in his mind, and he feels himself reliving the hazy scene behind his closed eyelids. he can’t explain it but it feels familiar and nostalgic, yet it’s also foreign and different. when he feels your hand worriedly caressing the stray tear on his cheek, he could only smiles and thinks to himself -

ah. so this is what a peaceful life feels like.

childe’s breath stutters when you kiss his nose or his eyelids. there’s something so adorable and intimate about those two specific places. like a forgotten childhood memory and the intricate vulnerability of allowing himself to be cherished and loved, to know that you won’t ever harm him despite him having his guard down. surprisingly, ajax doesn’t need a lavish display of love despite his repetitively showy endeavors in telling the whole world that you’re his. he’s already content with your soft giggles and tender touches, hidden behind doors and under the blankets in the cold starless sky of snezhnayan winters.

as the trained warrior that he is, he can last a good few minutes underwater, yet one simple kiss from you effectively diminishes his lung capacity, making him gasp and gulp for air, like a fish out of water. he can run for miles and keep his regular breathing pattern, yet a single notion of your well-being put in harm’s way makes his chest constrict and his breath fall into disarray. you’re the bane of his existence and the deity of salvation in his life.

you steal his breath away and with it, a piece of his cracked heart.

as cliche and boring as it was, kaveh’s breath escapes from his lungs whenever you visibly express yourself near him. he’s an empath to the core and he absolutely adores receiving the waves of your emotions like he’s some sentient radio transceiver who’s so attuned to your channel.

you could smile and he would follow, his chest constricting with incomprehensible joy as he drinks the light of happiness like a withered plant that hasn't seen sunlight in days. he loves to listen to your cheerful voice, like your own devoted transcriber, ready to commit your words and etch them into his soft and overwhelmingly big heart.

you could cry and he would bawl with you while holding you close, his lungs seizing with thorny vines that wrap and threaten to crush them to mush with each pearl of tears falling down the puffiness of your eyes. somehow the sight hits him harder than when the realization of his father not coming back hit him, or that time his mother told him she was going to move to fontaine and remarry - oh, it’s so much worse, because he’s holding his entire world in his arms, and he resonates with your bleeding heart.

kaeya would never admit to it but you would notice that his breath hitches whenever you yank his shirt to kiss him. he can try to deny it all he wants, but he finds your assertiveness hot - there’s just something about having you reaffirming how much you can affect him.

it used to irk him, actually - no one should have so much power over him. his life is already crumbling enough as it is, why would he want someone to shake it all up and potentially make it all crash down? and yet, throughout your relationship, he sees you fix the cracks, changes the rusted nails out, and solidifies his foundation. you’re so patient, your touch firm and gentle, and with each fissure healed he finds himself laughing breathlessly… and he lets go of his inhibitions. you can steal his marred heart away, and take his breaths too while you’re at it.

diluc finds his breathing spectacularly failing when your finger brushes against his nape as you help him tie his hair into a high ponytail. he still does not understand why you prefer this hairstyle, but he understands fully that the lack of air in his voice when you worriedly ask if you’ve tugged on his hair too hard is, in actuality, caused by how he wishes he could spend the rest of his life with you. to be with you, just like this, tranquil mornings full of domesticity and love, a replica of the little bits of memories he remembers of his late parents when they thought he was still asleep.

he’s so in love with you, he burns brighter in your presence, and he doesn’t even care if it uses up all the oxygen in his lungs; for he is sure his love for you is an eternal flame not born from the borrowed power of the gods, but from the deepest part of his heart.

wanderer has no need for these two specific atoms chemically bound to form an oxygen molecule that these weak humans seem to need lest they keel over and asphyxiate. and yet he still feels something compressing itself into an ever-consuming black hole within his hollow chest whenever you touch his white wooden skin with the most tender of touches as if he was something to be cherished. as if he was worthy of your presence. as if he was human. as if you truly love him.

ridiculous, he hisses and slaps your hand away every single time. his throat clogs and his lips purse, his vocal chord failing to enunciate how foolish you are, and the feeling got worse when he sees you merely chuckle at his ‘prickliness’.

you touch him again with the same hands five minutes later, and he struggles to squash the urge to smile.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[kiss-me-cill-me]

Stars Forever

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The night before launch, the crew of the Icarus II stay in a nearby hotel. The sleeping arrangements are less than ideal for you and the ship's cranky physicist.

Warnings: Smut, extremely trope-heavy and contrived shenanigans, kinda enemies-to-lovers, teasing, mentions of birth control (IUDs)

A/N: The title of this fic was inspired by Starless Heaven by Guster. That song has nothing to do with the fic, but it's really pretty so I wanted to share it lol. For the purposes of the "plot" here, reader is taking Trey's place on the ship (sorry Trey). Only one bed is my favorite trope and I just want to write it for every character ever <3

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Capa was a few paces ahead of you, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The soft yellow lights of the hotel corridor surrounded you on all sides as you glanced at the room numbers.

“Quit following me,” Capa barked, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, once he had turned back around and couldn't see you. This was so typical. 

“I'm not following you. I'm looking for my room.”

You checked another room number. That wasn't it. Capa continued down the hallway, not pausing as he spoke over his shoulder again.

“Aren't you with Cassie or Corazon? Go bother one of them,” he spat.

“First of all, I'm not bothering anyone. And second of all, no. Cassie and Cora are together. I'm rooming with someone else.”

At least, you assumed you were. All you had was your assigned room number. With eight crew members and apparently very heavily limited space in the hotel you were staying at for the night, you had been informed that everyone would need to double up. You, Cassie, and Cora had quickly compared room numbers to determine that you were the odd one out, but you had no idea who your own roommate would be. Obviously one of the guys, which was bound to be at least a little awkward. 

But, you would be fine. This was only going to be for one night. Tomorrow, the lot of you would be driven to mission control and then launched into space, bound for the Icarus II module currently hovering in the moon’s orbit, and then for the center of the solar system. This hotel was simply the closest accommodation for tonight, even if it was slightly too cramped for all eight of you.

“Well, quit walking so close to me at least.”

Capa’s voice brought you back to reality, and you realized that you had been zoning out and not looking at the last several room numbers. You checked the next one. Still not yours.

You slowed down, but only a little bit, putting some distance between you and Capa. You had no particular desire to be close to him. Though you certainly didn't hate him as much as he seemed to hate you. 

His dislike was obvious, but it confused you. You hadn't done anything that should have prompted him to feel so negatively toward you, as far as you were aware. But from the moment you and Capa had met at your first briefing, six months ago, you could tell he was incredibly tense whenever you were in the room.

Finally, your eyes landed on the room number assigned to you. You stopped in your tracks, then looked up, confused. Capa was standing in front of the same room.

“Why don't you get lost?” he asked, still testy.

“This is my room,” you said, motioning to the door.

Capa’s eyes darted to the room number and then back to you. His brows creased as he scowled openly.

“No. There's no way,” he said. “This is my room.”

“Well, it's my room, too,” you insisted.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Usually, Capa’s opinion of you didn't bother you much. He was just a coworker. Both of you had proven that you could put personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission, and whatever he thought about you in his free time didn't much matter. But now, faced with the challenge of sharing a hotel room, you suddenly wished that you had spent a bit more time working on your relationship.

“This has to be some kind of mix-up. Why aren't you with one of the girls?” Capa muttered.

“Maybe because there's three girls and five guys?” you replied, sarcastically. “Jeez, Capa - I thought you were good at math.”

Capa rushed to turn his face away, but you still caught a glimpse of the bright blush that rose on his cheeks. You - almost - felt bad. Usually, you tried not to antagonize him, but sometimes you couldn't help it.

“I know there's an uneven split,” he hissed, slightly wounded. “But why would they put you with me?”

You rolled your eyes again, not caring whether he saw you. Capa always thought of himself as the main character. God forbid he be inconvenienced.

“Look, it's late, and I'd like to go to bed,” you sighed. “I'll stay on my side of the room, you stay on yours, and we won't talk to each other. Deal?”

“Fine,” Capa muttered.

It was just for one night. Already feeling your temper wear thin, you slid your key card into the lock. You didn't hesitate to barge in ahead of Capa, not bothering to hold the door open behind you. He scrambled to follow, muttering something to himself.

You stopped short. Capa nearly crashed into you as you saw it first. There was only one bed.

Capa let out a deep breath of frustration. You watched from out of the corner of your eye as he swiftly turned on his heels and walked out of the room.

“Nope,” he said simply, letting the door slam behind him.

As it turned out, there had been a mix-up. But unfortunately for you and Capa, it was not one that could easily be resolved. Talking to the front desk did nothing, as the clerk explained they were booked up completely.

“There are a lot of people staying overnight so they can watch the big launch tomorrow,” she explained cheerily. “The second Icarus ship. Very exciting stuff!”

Capa looked ready to rip her head off, but somehow restrained himself. You snickered as you followed behind him, this time purposefully trailing as Capa made his way to Captain Kaneda’s room. He was almost cute when he was angry.

Talking to Kaneda didn't get you anywhere either.

“Capa, it's late,” the captain sighed. “You'll both just need to put up with it for one night.”

“But we don't even have separate beds!” Capa grumbled.

“Yes, well… if you two really dislike each other so much, that shouldn't be an issue.”

Capa opened his mouth to speak, but then the scandalous suggestion hidden in the captain’s words dawned on him, and he snapped it shut again. You were tempted to interject and say that you didn't hate Capa - his feelings were all one-sided. But then you thought better of it. You had to admit Capa’s hissy fit was amusing, but if you actually had to share a bed with him, it was better to not provoke him too much.

Capa stormed out of the captain’s room, and you followed. Back in the hallway, you ran into Mace.

“Mace,” Capa called, hurrying to catch up with him. “Hey, Mace - switch rooms with me.”

“Why would I switch rooms with you?” Mace snapped.

Capa and Mace didn't get along either. At all. He must have been truly desperate to ask Mace for help.

“Because I'm with her,” Capa replied, jabbing a finger back at you. “And we only have one bed.”

Mace stopped mid-stride, and turned around to look at you. He was clearly amused. Capa’s scowl deepened, and you shrugged. Mace crossed his arms as he spoke.

“No way in hell am I sharing a bed with her, you, or Searle,” he laughed. “You got the shit room? Tough luck, asshole.”

Mace walked away, leaving Capa to rake an exasperated hand through his hair. He turned to face you, looking you directly in the eye for the first time since you had both left your miserably shared room.

“Okay, one of us needs to take the floor,” he informed you.

You had already started to walk away, and Capa hurried to keep pace beside you.

“Well it's not gonna be me,” you said. “If you can't grow up enough to sleep in the same bed as someone else for one night, you get to take the floor.”

Capa’s cheeks blushed pink again.

“You actually want us to sleep together?” Capa blurted.

“Ugh, don't say it like that!” 

You felt your own cheeks start to heat up as Capa’s blush deepened. Each of you pretended not to notice how flustered the other was getting.

You reached the door of your room and slipped the key card inside. This time, you held the door open as Capa followed after you.

“I'm just saying, why sleep on a hard floor the night before one of the biggest days of our lives?” you sighed. “We can both be adults about this.”

Capa silently considered your words for a minute, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze.

“Well, just think about it,” you said, reaching for your small backpack. “I'm gonna get changed.”

Capa choked, letting a small, strangled sound escape his throat as you pulled your pajamas out of the bag. When you looked up at him, his eyes had blown wide.

“You're getting undressed?” he sputtered. “In here?”

“In the bathroom, Capa. Jeez!”

You stepped into the little bathroom, closing the door behind you before he had a chance to reply. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let yourself sink back against the door. This was going to be a long night if Capa kept this up. 

You wished he would calm down. It had been funny to watch him scramble around trying to get out of sleeping with you - or, next to you, you corrected yourself. But now, your annoyance had started to settle in again. 

With a huff, you straightened up. It was only one night. You could handle this, and you knew Capa could too, once he had gotten over his initial shock. You set about changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth.

When you came out, Capa seemed calmer. He was sitting slouched in the small chair next to the desk, which neither of you would have any occasion to use during such a short stay. It was only one night. The words were a mantra in your head.

“Okay,” Capa relented. “I can agree that it's important we both get a good night's rest. Especially with everything happening tomorrow.”

Privately, you thought to yourself that you were the one who needed sleep more than Capa. Your job as navigator was much more imperative than… whatever he would be doing. Capa was little more than a piece of glorified cargo; just coming along for the ride so that he could deploy the bomb. Which was important, of course - but he would have several months worth of time to catch up on sleep before he had to make himself useful, and-

You stopped yourself. That kind of thinking wasn't helpful. It was just nerves making you snap; you always felt tense the night before a mission. And this would be the longest one you had ever been on. Capa was probably feeling the same way, especially considering this was his first. You thought back to your first flight as a rookie, and felt yourself soften a little.

“So we're both going to be mature about this?” you asked.

“Yes,” Capa agreed, sighing as if it pained him.

“Good. Then go get ready for bed.”

You regretted the words as soon as you'd said them. They felt entirely too domestic. Too familiar. A lover telling her husband to come to bed with her.

Capa stood up, crossing paths awkwardly with you on his way to the bathroom. Once the door had shut behind him, you let out the breath you had been holding. Maybe this was going to be a long night.

While Capa got ready for bed, you crawled awkwardly under the covers. Picking a side so that neither of you would be able to argue about that, you settled in and pulled the blankets over your lap.

Capa stepped out, rustled in his bag for a minute, and then came to stand by his side of the bed.

“So, do I just…”

“Here,” you offered. “We can put a few pillows between us.”

The hotel bed had entirely too many of them anyways. You took a couple and placed them between the spaces that you and Capa would occupy, making a little wall.

Capa climbed into bed with you, a little hesitantly. He flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, and you did the same, plunging the room into inky black. 

In the dark, things felt suddenly more… intimate. Your eyes took a long minute to adjust, but when they did, you saw Capa. Still sitting propped up in bed next to you, just like you were as you stared back at him.

“This isn't so bad, right?” 

Your voice was barely a whisper. Capa’s response came at a similar volume. 

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Let's try and get some rest.”

You sank down, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows at your side. Pressing into them almost felt like you were cuddling against Capa’s body; ironically, the makeshift barrier only made the bed feel more crowded.

“Stop wiggling,” Capa complained.

You bit your tongue. You wanted to snap at him, but you reminded yourself again that you were probably just both on edge. Something in Capa’s deep voice sounded almost miserable.

“Sorry,” you said instead. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

The only sound in the room was Capa’s breath. For some reason, it seemed like he was breathing a bit harder than usual.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Fine,” Capa replied, the word curt and short.

You sighed.

“Capa, why do you hate me so much?”

An uncomfortable silence hung between you. For a few seconds, you thought that he wasn't going to answer, and tried to think of how you could backpedal out of your question as you stared up at the ceiling.

“I don't hate you,” Capa said finally. “I just… you're distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echoed.

As far as you could remember, you had never done anything particularly distracting. At least not to any of your fellow crew members. The months you had spent together preparing for this mission were serious, and didn't leave much time for distractions of any kind.

“Don't worry about it,” Capa insisted, which only confused you more.

“What do you mean? Don't worry about being distracting, or don't worry about you calling me that?”

“Don't worry about any of it!” Capa groaned, suddenly exasperated.

“What's up with you?”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, leaning over the stack of pillows a bit to get a better look at him. Capa flinched, trying to hunch over himself. But it was too late. You had seen the obvious tent in the blankets.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” you squealed. “That's why you didn't want to sleep with me. You don't hate me at all. You like me.”

“Shut up!” Capa snapped, still trying to cover himself with his hands.

You smiled. This was too good. All those months you'd spent wondering what his deal was, and now it was so obvious. Capa had a crush on you. And a pretty big one, by the looks of it.

“It's nothing to be ashamed of, Capa,” you laughed. “You can admit that you like me.”

“I don't,” Capa insisted.

“I have a hard time believing that,” you murmured, eyes trailing down to his crotch.

“Look, don't tell anyone,” Capa begged.

“Why would I tell anyone?” 

You peeled the blankets back, taking the wall of pillows with them. Capa, in his shock, watched as the sheets fell away but did nothing to try and stop you. His hands were still clamped down over his erection, and you lifted them up to guide the blanket away.

“If I told someone,” you continued, “then I'd have to tell them about this…”

You leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. You felt Capa tense beneath you, sitting up slightly before he melted back into the pillows. You followed him, moving to straddle his waist and put your hands on his shoulders, holding him there.

“W-what are you doing?” Capa stammered.

You’d pulled back to look at him, and even in the darkness you could tell just how wide his eyes had blown.

“I dunno - what do you want me to do?” you teased.

Your fingers trailed up and down his chest, his breath hitching once as you reached the base of his neck.

“Well, you could get off of me, for starters,” he answered, voice wavering.

His deep voice, usually so smooth and clear, had taken on a desperate, slightly strained quality. You moved your fingertips over the hem of his shirt collar, teasing just beneath the fabric.

“Come on, Capa. Be honest,” you prodded. “What do you really want?”

“Fuck,” Capa whined.

“Fuck? We can fuck,” you agreed, voice lowering.

“Th-that’s not what I meant and you know it - Shit!”

Capa interrupted himself as you slid lower, centering your hips over his clothed erection. You rubbed against him, and he clenched his jaw, throwing his head back into the pillows.

“Fuck! How come you like me all of a sudden?” Capa hissed, slightly out of breath.

“Who said I ever didn’t like you?” you questioned, sliding your hands under his shirt.

Capa’s back arched against the mattress as your hands moved over his bare chest. You swore you heard him let out a little moan.

“You’re just doing this to torture me,” he accused.

“And what if I am?” You leaned in to whisper against his ear. “It seems like you kinda like it.”

Your gentle touches turned harsh; raking your nails down Capa’s chest. As he moaned again, you leaned in to capture it with a kiss. His lips slotted into yours, and Capa bit down, desperate. You hummed with your lower lip trapped between his teeth, still dragging your hips against him. Capa mumbled something, and you pulled away to hear him.

“Hm?”

“Please don’t make me come in my pants,” he groaned.

You lifted off of him a little, putting a stop to the friction between you. Capa groaned again, this time at the loss.

“Oh, okay,” you said mischievously. “Let's take you out of them, then.”

You moved to take off his shorts, pushing them down just enough to free his leaking cock. Capa had a pretty one, you had to admit. Even in the dark, you could see how it shined with small, milky beads of his arousal. As it sprang out from the confines of his boxers, Capa whined desperately.

“This too,” you said, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Capa sat up to tear himself out of his t-shirt, and then started to pull off yours. Once you were both out of your shirts, your lips crashed together again, and Capa’s arms wrapped around your waist, pressing into your back to pull you closer.

“Hang on,” you breathed, pulling away to wrestle yourself out of your own shorts.

Tossing them to the side, you went back to straddling Capa, and pushed him back down to lie flat on the mattress. Your bodies were tantalizingly close together, hovering just on the edge of you sinking down onto his cock. Capa’s hands came up to rest on your sides - clearly wanting to touch your breasts but not daring to. You guided his left hand to cup one.

“Fuck,” Capa sighed again, digging his fingers into you.

“Be patient,” you scolded, giggling a little at the way Capa’s brow creased.

“Haven’t you played with me enough?” he moaned.

“I don’t think so, actually.”

You lowered yourself down just a bit, enough to let his tip brush through your folds. You were pretty wet already, but not quite enough to take him in yet. Pressing down more, you trapped his cock between yourself and his stomach, sliding up and down the underside of his length.

“Ah!” Capa gasped.

His fingers tightened on your breast, and you basked in the feel of his hands on you. The way your clit was rubbing against him with every stroke of your hips wasn’t so bad either, and you thought fleetingly that you might actually be able to get both of you off just like this. You considered it, but where was the fun in that?

You sat up, reaching down to position him so that it would only take one more stroke to enter you. You felt how wet you had gotten his shaft, just by rubbing against it, and laughed softly to yourself. Maybe you did like Capa a little more than you’d thought. As you swirled your hips, getting the head of his cock wet enough to slide into you, Capa lost what little remaining resolve he had.

“Fuck - please,” Capa whined.

“Please what?”

“You know what you’re doing, you jerk.”

“And?”

Capa bucked his hips beneath you, but you inched up and away from him, keeping his prize just out of reach.

“Tell me what you want,” you taunted. “You can use your words, right? Or am I ‘distracting’ you again?”

“Yes - it’s very fucking distracting to feel you dripping down my cock,” Capa moaned.

If he was trying to get to you, he would have to do better than that.

“Come on, just tell me. What do you want?”

“You! Fuck,” Capa grunted. “God, I want to be inside you.”

“There, was that so hard?” you laughed.

“Fuck you, you’re driving me crazy.”

He was speaking through clenched teeth, jaw straining once again as his eyes squeezed shut. The sight was enough to make you pulse, clenching around nothing. You had held back for long enough, you decided.

In one swift motion, you sank down onto his cock. The stretch was enough to make you hum, pleasure filling your chest as your walls wrapped around him. Capa was slightly less subtle, moaning loudly at the feel of you.

His desperate, needy sounds were like music to your ears. Slowly, you rocked your hips back and forth, keeping yourself pressed flush against him. Capa let out a breath.

“Don’t stop,” he begged you.

You didn’t plan on it. You kept your pace steady, stopping the rhythm every once in a while to swirl your hips.

As much as you were enjoying the sight of Capa falling apart beneath you, you needed more to help yourself over the edge. You brought your fingers down to your clit, letting the motion of your hips guide the pressure.

“Oh, I’m close,” you sighed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you tossed your head back. Capa’s hands were planted on your hips now, greedily pulling you down as far onto his cock as you would go. His voice was a mess as he answered.

“Me too - fuck - you're gonna need to get off of me.”

“Not yet,” you moaned, grinding your hips down again.

“What do you mean ‘not yet?’” Capa grunted, sounding miserable.

“So close,” you replied, your own voice getting shaky.

And then, you felt the coil in your stomach snap. You cried out, pressing down onto him harder than ever as your nails raked down his chest. While you rode out your high, Capa scrambled to grab at your hips and lift you all the way off of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - get off!” he gasped.

As your orgasm faded, you looked down to see Capa, desperate and flushed-red cock in his hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his own stomach. He’d managed to pull you off just in time, but barely. A smirk crossed your lips as you watched him.

You weren’t sure what he was so worried about. As precaution, all female members of the Icarus crew had been required to have IUDs placed months ago. They would last the duration of the journey, and ensure that no mishaps occurred. Although, now you considered that maybe Capa and the other men hadn’t been told about that, to prevent… well, to prevent them from getting any ideas about doing what Capa and you had just done.

You crawled off of him, grabbing a box of tissues from one of the nightstands.

“Here - clean yourself off,” you told him. “I like to cuddle after.”

Capa took the tissues and wiped up his cum, tossing everything into the trashcan next to the bed. You flopped down on top of him, forcing his arms to wrap around you in surprise before they settled into the curves of your body.

Bringing his lips into a slow kiss, you felt the hum of Capa’s moan against you.

“You’re gonna kill me if this is what the next three years together are going to be like,” Capa complained.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “And besides,” you continued, poking him in the ribs, “what makes you think that this is what the next three years are gonna be like?”

You could practically feel Capa blush, his arms tightening and the skin on his chest getting just a bit hotter.

“I mean…”

“I’m just kidding,” you laughed. “Of course I’m gonna keep torturing you like this. Since you like it so much,” you added.

“Yeah, well… maybe I’ll torture you instead next time,” Capa threatened, tugging you harder against him.

“You can try…” Bringing your lips back up to his face, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s kinda cute that you have the confidence.”

You giggled as Capa held the sides of your face, stopping you from pulling away as he kissed your lips. Both of you sank down, Capa turning to hover over you this time as he kissed you again. 

You smiled against his lips. You could certainly think of worse ways to spend the next few years.

Taglist: @cillianslvt, @cillmequick, @dynamitehacke, @franzine-xii, @hanawrites404, @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch, @littlewinter1917, @mothhball, @nnattu, @red-riding-wood, @sea-star-of-the-ocean, @slut4thebroken (also going rogue and tagging @vintagepvssy because of our only one bed trope conversation lol)

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 are you to 𝐌𝐄 ?

To Blade, you were the sun stretching over a vibrant pasture of may flowers that broke like the golden yolk of an egg.

To Blade, you were the twirling winds of summertime as your smile emulated the very warmth of the sun and a dash of charming playfulness which never once failed to lighten the strain of burdens. Naturally flowing away like a stream of water or a feather in the wind.

To Blade, your patience was as steadfast and serene as a lake in still waters, the moon dancing overhead while you planted stars on his scars through tender kisses he did not deserve. Boundless and ever so infinite like your soul.

To Blade, you were both an instrument and it’s player: a sweet melody that echoed in his ears every daunting moment when the whispers of the past clouded his mind. Spotlight gracing your skin as the tunes of a forgotten tenderness swirled up into the air like the steam of tea rising from a cup. Thus, no matter his efforts or restraint, Blade kept finding himself at your front door, and thus, in your arms. Time and time again.

To Blade, each step you graced the ground with brought forth life: a child’s laughter, an old woman’s smile, the scent of honeysuckles. That was all your doing.

And Blade, was forever a shadow of destruction that was doomed to a life as devoid and blank as a starless night. Nevertheless, you were the stars. You littered yourself in his life; setting a subtle twinkle in the abyssal night of his being despite his lifeless form.

You were made of cosmic dust, maple wood and all the collective dreams of the universe. And Blade, who was undone bit by bit, followed you like a shadow looming behind in longing.

It had been so long since another soul touched him without underlying motives. He feared that.

Why did you harbour him in your house absent of fear? Why did your persistence invoke warm sensations? Why did your eyes unfailingly meet his?

Blade was keen on understanding you, yet, he gradually realized there was simply nothing to understand. Truth rolled of your tongue with ease and as for Blade, it got stuck in his throat, dying off. Yes, you were far from perfect, nevertheless, you carried yourself despite every thorn pricking your skin. Carving your way through each cavern; leaving subtle traces of discovery for him to follow.

The feeling swelled in his chest like a disease— and it terrified him. And yet, he could not put a name to it. A name to how his eyes lingered a touch longer than they should or how you rubbed his back. (And for the first time, he did not flinch at your touch or grab you by the arm.)

Thus, when the Astral Express offered you the chance to become a passenger, Blade clenched his fist and held his breath.

It was no wonder they asked you. After all, you were the polar opposite of what a Stellaron Hunter should be. You were amiable, mindful, calm, merciful yet seemingly lighthearted like a child.

Blade told himself that he dared not involve himself. You were a person of your own free will. Thus, you would deal with the consequences. There was no regard for him.

Nevertheless, the urge to tear you away from the conversation thrummed through his vile veins.

However, your reply would be forever ingrained in his sullen memory for the rest of eternity.

"I am honoured that you would consider me Mr. Yang," you articulate kindly, a smile reaching your lips, "But, I'm afraid I must decline."

"Oh? How so?"

You emit a silky chuckle, "If you asked me three years ago, I would have readily agreed," you pause then continue with vibrant eyes, "But, there are people I care for with my own life. It would be my biggest regret to leave them."

Until Blade can learn to fathom the extent of his own emotions, he will continue to linger beside you like a phantom or a shadow. Subconsciously yearning to nestle himself in your warmth, yet, always going through, a mere ghost of an absent lover in your presence.

masterlist

more angst :0 i think most of my blog will be angst lmao. btw this was originally posted on my other account @/mignonne02. i just took it down there. thank you for all the support! it makes me really excited to write more >> (please request btw) especially on my last post (diluc angst for life)

[mamayan]

I’m 26 just shy as fuck with using my blog for asks, but I will literally owe you my life for Sanemi yobai if you ever feel like doing it.

I don’t need your life nonnie, fear not! I will be taking your soul though Your ask will be answered! Except, Sanemi is such a stubborn baby, and due to this, his potential sweetheart will be the one who needs to initiate… deeper relations.

★彡Yobai☆彡

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

Yobai “Night Crawling”

The pre-Meiji Era practice of slipping into a consenting woman’s room at night for sexual relations or even courtship.

Synopsis: Your sweetheart, Sanemi, won’t open his heart further out of fear for your safety. His efforts to protect you ultimately pushing you away. You set the record straight.

CW: NSFW • FLUFF • Virgin! Sanemi • Creampie • Oral (F)

Read Kyojuro Rengoku’s Yobai story here!

The Shinazugawa estate lays ahead in the distance, the night nearly swallowing it within it’s starless sky. You raise your chilled fingers to your lips to blow quickly dissipating warmth, feet shuffling through the ankle deep snow. The streets are silent, even the wind still. The world a mixture of purity and loneliness around you. You glance around, doors tightly shut, the inhabitants likely all asleep. Leaving you utterly alone with only a stubborn resolve clenched in your heart.

“You need to leave.”

“Sanemi—,”

“Please…” how could you do anything else? His hands shaking as he fists them at his side, his head turned as if even looking at you would crack his resolve. He wouldn’t let you speak the words, the sentence you’ve both been aching to utter to one another for months now.

I love you.

It was left unsaid. How could you not feel defeated? You regretted walking away, not turning around and grabbing him, screaming to the world how you truly felt. That the big bad Hashira, the respected Wind Pillar, Sanemi Shinazugawa, held your heart in it’s entirety. You’ve watched and waited for months, never pushing, always resilient, but it was getting you nowhere. If his own younger brother couldn’t reach him, what were you capable of? What did you have that could crack his resolve, make him give in, to be happy for once. Selfish. Even just a little.

You stare up at the wide gates, the entrance to his home tightly closed. You were no demon slayer, no professional, but you’d scraped your knees enough as a child to handle scaling his walls with the help of a nearby tree.

Your heart beat a mile a minute, palms sweaty despite the freezing cold, as you slowly made your way to his front door.

You sent a silent prayer it was unlocked like you assumed.

It was. The doors push open and you’re quick to slip inside the warm walls and push the cold back out. It’s still and quiet inside as well, but it was the middle of the night and you knew Sanemi kept himself on a strict routine. You briefly frown, the thought of him all alone within such a large house. Your resolve further solidifies, your own anxiety and fear nothing to compared to his suffering and pain. You didn’t foolishly believe you’d cure anything, your presence wouldn’t return anyone lost, but if he could just live for himself… even just a little, didn’t that count for something? You vowed you’d do all within your power to make him happy.

You slip your shoes shoes off, not wishing to track the soaked snow ridden things onto the clean floors.

Softly padding down the hall, you used your memory to find his room. Only once coming close to the space, a moment he’d smashed with his own hands, when you’d nearly kissed that day.

It didn’t matter. Not tonight.

He’d either fully reject you, tell you he doesn’t want you, and nothing about safety or whatever excuse he’s dared to already use. He’d reject you or… he’d take you.

You knew the secret rendezvous lovers this day and age participated in. Night crawling a popular and relatively safe way to find compatible marriage partners without harming reputation.

Though… you grimace, reminded how it’s normally the man’s position to initiate…

You shake it off. Sanemi not the sort of man to act on such desires. His self control nearly masochistic.

Creeping closer, your hand softly touches the shoji door separating his sleep space. It opened silently, your relief palpable as you run over the scenario you’ve created in your mind for how this might play out. His reactions and words already mapped so you can reply and retort strongly to make your case.

Except your mind goes completely blank when you fully open the door only to be greeted with a full katana only an inch from your face.

“Hck!” It’s a choked noise which escapes you, your quick retreat causing you to land on your bottom as you look up into the intense dark amethyst gaze of a scared white haired man. His hair more tousled and fluffy than usual, his loose yukata hardly on his imposing frame, more skin exposed than covered.

His brows furrow, a twitch to his eye as veins visibly throb around his temple.

“You better have a damn good reason,” his irritation clearly displayed as he glares down at you. “For showing up in the middle of the night, in winter for fucks sake!” His sword is sheathed and set aside as he stomps towards you, wrapping a large palm around your bicep and pulling you rather gently to your feet. His threatening display and looming figure over you juxtaposed to his soft handling of your body.

Strike one.

“I love you.” His eyes can’t widen any further.

“Sanemi, I love you, I’ve loved you for—,” he cuts you off. Stubborn man he is.

“Stop! You don’t know what you’re saying, you need to go home.” His face turns away from you, but the moonlight shining from the hall onto you both illuminates the pink tint his skin has taken. He’s furiously blushing.

Strike two.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I love you Sanemi Shinazugawa, I want to be yours.”

He’s nearly choking at your words, looking visibly startled and insulted.

“Do you even know what you’re saying idiot?!” He’s making himself angrier, believing you don’t truly understand what you’re implying. You stand unwavering before him though.

The tall young man at a loss of how to handle this entire situation delicately. He couldn’t toss you out, it’s the middle of winter, and you lived no where close to him. How you even made it here so thinly dressed causes another vein to nearly burst at your carelessness.

“I’m going to get some blankets, you can stay on the other side of the house tonight—“

“No!” The furrow of your brows and cute pouty display of stomping your foot had him pausing, flushing even deeper and becoming even more furious if possible.

“Hah?” If his face could twist any further, you’d wonder if he sucked on a lemon.

“I want to sleep with you.”

“W-what?” For all he’s worth, Sanemi is not an experienced man. No, in the end, he’s still a hot blooded young man, and he’s easy prey to the charms of the woman he loves claiming to want to share his bed.

Strike three.

You didn’t hesitate anymore. Despite Sanemi being bigger and physically much more powerful than you, he let himself be manhandled by you. Your soft hands touching his bare chest enough to make him tremble, so he was truly unable to fight as you pushed him further into his own room and shove him down onto his bed.

He’s dumbfounded, looking up at you now, your pretty face set serious as you start fumbling with your clothes.

He reacts late, realizing you’re stripping. For him. In his room. In his fucking bed.

His voice is weak, pathetic really.

“S-stop, please,” he has to stop just to swallow, breathing shallow as your smooth skin becomes bare for his eyes. He can only wet his dry lips as you let your robes slip, his room illuminated from the hall, your curves nearly all visible. A thin band of fabric over your chest.

“We-no, w-wait—,” really, it’s got none of his usual gusto behind it. You’re made to move on him, and he acts as helpless as kitten as you straddle him, pressing yourself so close he’s reeling with panic and arousal. Hands twitching just before your waist, unsure if he wants to give in and pull you closer or stop this madness like he should.

You don’t let him debate further. Hands cupping his scared cheeks, before you lean in to press your lips against his.

The kiss is stiff, only you kissing him as he sits below you frozen.

It’s not until you tentatively let your tongue slip out to lick the seam of his lips that he snaps.

You’re flipped, landing cushioned by the bed beneath you, as Sanemi stares down at you. Wide eyes staring at you for only a moment before he’s crashing his lips against your own passionately now. Softening and molding them to you, so needy and sweet you open your mouth, his tongue entering and warming your body up as your arousal spikes.

His form is still shaking, muscles flexing and seeming strained as he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again. He seems to melt as you wrap your arms around around his neck, pulling him closer as he drops to his elbows, letting a little weight rest on you. He tastes sweet, you can’t help but note. Nearly as sweet as he smells.

You’re both forced to break for air, panting as you look into his half lidded gaze, his facial expression more lax.

“I love you,” you whisper it against his lips, his reaction visceral as he finally digs his hands into you, gripping your hips tight as he groans. You giggle, letting your own hands wander as he bows his head to rest on your soft chest. You’re reminded of a cat as he lets his cheek rub against your breast, his eyes closed as he breathes you in.

He lifts, kissing your covered chest, as he meets your eyes. They’re soft and desperate all at once, your heart constricting as he kisses your lips so softly.

“I love you too,” it’s hardly audible but you swoon, reconnecting your lips and letting your thighs spread.

He does it unconsciously, digs his knees into the bed and pushes your legs up even further to slot himself perfectly against you. You just feel so good, soft warm beneath him as he squeezes and feels all of you for once.

Your cool hands work into his robe, pushing the fabric easily off his chest and shoulders, and he’s happy to allow you to admire his physique. Sliding his arms out of his sleeves and sitting up so you can feel more of him, down the rough panes of his chest to his abs, and the light trail of hair going from his navel down.

“Hmph,” his smirk is mouth watering, “see something you like?” It only brings a bigger smile to your lips, giggling as you pull him back to your lips, moaning into his mouth when his own hands begin to tug on the covering over your chest, and you happily lift to allow him to remove it.

He breaks the kiss to look at you, embarrassed by how his mouth waters and cock aches as he takes you in. He’s almost hesitant, despite all your bold proclamations, he resembles more of a young maiden than you for a moment.

“Is it alright…?”

“Sanemi, please,” it’s your soft little whine that makes him groan, happily to indulge as he gropes at your chest and lowers his head to lick and suck.

His gentle, so feather light in touch, worried about hurting you or scaring you. You, showing up to his room like a dream, his wildest fantasies playing out and making him scalding hot. It’s when your fingers thread through his hair that he nips at your areola, licking when you jolt and cry out in apology before he returns the same treatment to it’s twin.

“Sanemi!” Your moan is intoxicating, and he can’t help how he grinds against you, but still too focused on touching you to rush anything.

“So fucking soft…” he’s muttering under his breath, eyes wild as he looks at your panting pretty image.

“Please, touch more…?” It’s all the confirmation he needs, one hand traveling from your chest down your stomach, dipping into your soaked core.

“You’re wet,” he chuckles, more amazed than anything else because he did this, made you look like this. He’s not mean though, sinking a finger inside you as you arch your back and moan for him. His gaze trained on how your small hole stretches so nicely, becoming even wetter as he moves and rubs inside you.

You take a second to adjust as well, his hand on your breast leaving in favor of shoving your knee up to your chest so he can truly watch.

“This position… wait your face, oh!” He’s smiling but you can’t see, not as he removes his fingers to lick up your dripping arousal. You dig your fingers back into his tresses, making him moan as he begins to really dig into your pussy with conviction. Letting his nose grind into your clit as he sticks his tongue inside and swallows you, your hips unable to stop how they twitch and squirm.

“Sanemi I think I’m gonna—,”

Your pitched voice has his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.

“Fuck, go ahead baby, let me taste you.” His words coupled with his renewed vigor to feast on you, has you breaking for him. Crying out and tugging on his hair as you shake and moan.

He doesn’t let a drop go to waste, nearly overstimulating you accidentally as you huff and beg for him to fuck you.

“What was that?” His tone is teasing, grin feral as he looks down at you with those pointed cat eyes. You kindly indulge his ego though, reaching out to him with watery eyes, saccharine tone making him puff up. “Please…” you draw cutely.

“Fuck me already you idiot,” you laugh, breaking the mood just a bit as he rolls his eyes, shoulders dropping and relaxing as he covers you again, now fully naked beneath him as he works to throw his yukata to the side, focusing on keeping you distracted as he grips his cock tightly in his hand.

“Little minx, look at you,” his demeanor is so different like this, melting with kindness and compassion as he kisses you. The taste of yourself combined with his sweetness making you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

“Eager?” You nearly revoke your statement of kindness at his cocky attitude, but you tense up as bit as he allows the head of his cock to drag through your folds. Wetting himself with your arousal.

You try to look down, but his hand catches your jaw and redirects your attention with another deep and sloppy kiss.

You break away when he begins to push in, a bit panicked as you finally look down to see he’s trying to push that into you.

“Sanemi, that isn’t going to—,” he kisses you again, mumbling against your lips and pushing you to lie back, “Shh… you’ll relax for me, won’t you flower?” It’s a cliche nickname, but from his lips it’s nothing if not perfect as you try to obey.

You didn’t need to get cold feet now, even if he was enormous and your gut churned in anxiety, he was yours wasn’t he? The thought calmed you, his lips and gentle touch keeping you pliant as he begins to sink into you.

His flushed appearance doesn’t help hide it, but he’s on the verge of panic himself.

Pushing into your tight heat has his toes curling, teeth grit for concentration and control, and his breathing so similar to training it would be impossible to tell the difference.

You feel too good, feel so perfect, gooey walls squeezing his cock and turning his head mushy, unable to really think as he sinks a little deeper.

He’s trying to be gentle, give you time to adjust because he’s not ignorant of his size. Your cute reaction certainly boosting his ego plenty, but he’s cognizant watching you, checking for any sign of real distress.

“Sanemi, I’m so full…,” but he’s still just an inexperienced young man, so hearing you moan like that? His hips jerked and he shoved himself completely inside, sharp hiss of pleasure and wide eyes growing terrified as you cry out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry, are you okay? Should I stop?”

“No, don’t stop!” It’d be worse to start all over again, you knew.

He holds you close as you pant, kissing your face, hair line, nose, and lips to keep you distracted. His thick cock filling you so much, stretching your walls and hitting so deep inside, you briefly wonder if sex is even going to work.

Until you relax. Your body allowing him shockingly deeper and you moan because it feels good now, the stretch and feeling him so close to you.

“C-can I…?” He’s gone too, looking ruined and sweaty, so red it’s adorable, despite his size and intimidating appearance. You nod, your soft noises encouraging as he pulls out, slowing pushing back into you.

“Fuck,” he’s gripping you close, leaning on his elbows again so he can bury his face in your neck. Your cute expression of pleasure too much for him to look at without finishing too quickly.

He has to bite his tongue not cum.

His hips working awkwardly inside you, unsure how deep to go or what makes you feel good as you pant and moan beneath him. You’re overwhelmed, certainly not in pain, but feeling so much of him had you choking. The man you love trying so hard to make you feel good and be gentle despite his soft whimpers and whines into your neck. Too embarrassed to show his face anymore.

“I love you—“ you hiss, his cock sinking hard and deep into you at the confession as he shudders against you.

“Don’t say that, fuck,” his thrusts increase, a bit of sweat dripping onto you now, mixing with your own as you cling to him.

“Coming into my home,” he’s getting more aggressive, one of his hands moving down between you two, rubbing at your clit as you clamp down and cry. Your wet eyes finally spilling over into tears. “You don’t get to cry,” he’s nearly on the verge of tears himself, “not when you offered yourself to me like this,” he can’t help watching your pussy take him, “no, you’re mine now, aren’t you?” His smile is wobbly, his own eyes a bit wet as he feels his end nearing.

You nod, unable to speak as your back arches and you come around him, throwing him over the edge as he throws his head back and fills you. His shout bleeding with pleasure.

He comes a ridiculous amount. Painting your insides and excessively flowing out of you despite his cock remaining inside. Each twitch felt as you milk him for all he’s worth.

He can only weakly collapse against you, dragging you to the side while still connected to hold you close as he buries his face in your chest.

You catch your breath together, no one speaking as you pet his soft hair and he listens to your heart.

You smile, letting sleep slowly take you as you thank Kyojuro’s younger brother for giving you such good relationship advice.

Though, you still had to wonder how the young Senjuro knew about yobai…

[sprout-fics]

Mayday Mayday Chapter One: Bravo Going Down

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Six of Snowblind

Rating: Mature Themes Wordcount: 5.1k Tags: Slow Burn, Bad Flirting, Whump, Blood and Injury, Active Combat Scenarios, Teammates to ??? to Lovers, Angst, Banter Warnings: Crashes, Descriptions of blood and injury A/N: Special thank you to @gazs-blue-hat , @laeilaps , and @vampirekilmerfic for the research and development of this installment! and thank you to everyone still reading despite the large gap in updates.

It’s a starless night when your helicopter gets shot down.

The ride to your destination is a long one. The ever-present roar of helicopter blades is the only sound you seem to hear in the darkness of the chopper, sandwiched between two larger marines who seem to check and recheck their gear every five minutes. They chatter in small exchanges over comms, barks of laughter to cover up the anxious energy caught between the darkness of the thumping blades above. There’s a tense, heavy atmosphere in the cabin that pulses between you all, a pent-up focus prowling just inside its cage, waiting to be released into the thick of battle. You feel it as much as they do, grounded only by the tap of your fingers in a steady rhythm against your weapon, running and re-running the attack plan in your mind as the marines around you shift with taut, scarcely contained energy.

They’d sat behind you during the briefing, watching attentively as Laswell detailed the fly-by-night mission to hunt down an AQ cell holed up in the dry desert mountains. Normally such a cell would be swiftly dealt with using air support, but in this instance Laswell needed one of the majors hidden inside the mountain bunker alive for interrogation. It’s high-risk, high-reward business, and the gravity of the mission isn’t lost on you.

The marines seemed surprised to find you second in command of this mission, shifting uneasily with low tones as Laswell announced it so. You were surprised yourself at the arrangement, considering the leading CO that stood broad-shouldered and heavy-stared before them as Laswell went over the approach. With Price off-duty and nursing a sprained shoulder from the team’s last deployment, and Soap and Gaz on an assignment of their own, the mantle had fallen to you to be partnered with the team’s one and only lieutenant.

It doesn’t sit well with your fellow American troops, you can tell. They’d expected one of their own to be second in command, especially considering your medic designation. Yet when one of them had dared voice such an opinion, his fellows snickering behind your back, Ghost had barked at them a snarling, low reprimand that quickly silenced any and all objections.

Now Ghost sits across from you, legs spread wide enough that the soldiers on either side of him have to compact their spaces to allow him room. You see the way they’re a little tense, a little intimidated by his size and presence. You can hardly blame them. Ghost has been quiet aside from a few orders for the entire ride so far, and you’re not sure whether to be grateful or unsettled by his silence.

Things have been...odd since you got back.

You’d been given all of a week to settle at base before the team was tasked with a flurry of missions- all short and swift deployments that left you with plenty of leftover energy to spend on the rest of the team. You’d been concerned about integrating yourself back into the group after such a long stint away, but fortunately the team had accepted you back with open arms. It had taken time to catch up with the most recent intel, and even then Price had insisted on putting you through your paces with training and other exercises to ensure your skills were still fresh. With Soap and Gaz at your side, it was a relatively easy task to tackle the list of training exercises your CO had tasked you with, buoyed by the boy-ish, lighthearted energy of the other two sergeants.

To test your revitalized skillset, Price often designated you to Ghost’s squad during deployments, trusting his second in command to sharply and swiftly correct any blunders on your part- of which there had mercifully been few. More than that, you seemed to flourish under the command of Ghost, quickly ceding to orders and swift with your deliverance. It had garnered you several rare instances of praise from the Brit, spoken quietly and perfunctory over comms, quick enough that you had to pause and ensure you had heard him right. When you had offered bits of banter over the radio, Ghost had surprisingly indulged in your humor, leaving you grinning even during ex-fil and almost giddy with the oddly fluttering feeling in your chest.

As if that wasn’t odd in itself, Ghost seemed...different than you remember off the field. More than once you’d caught him staring at you across the rec room between missions, dark eyes boring into you as if you were something to be studied. He sometimes sought you out himself to relay a message as opposed to using the team’s designated chat log, offering the excuse that he’d been nearby anyways. His gaze always managed to catch yours when you entered a room, and despite the man never smiling, you always saw the glimmer of recognition there as you caught his stare, as if he was anticipating your arrival.

You told yourself he was just looking out for you, as his duty as your superior, but the truth of it felt...more than that. Ghost was never one to go out of his way for his teammates, always offering the bare minimum of what was required of him to keep the task-force functioning. You know his past, mysterious and intriguing as it is, prevented him from truly bonding with the rest of the team. To him you were all co-workers, soldiers, but not brothers in the way you thought of them.

Yet it was Ghost who tossed you an extra water bottle after training, who had nodded to the weights someone stashed in the gym when you looked for them, who had given you his full attention as you stood before him and checklisted your gear for him before mission, who looked out for you at the bar and escorted you back to the barracks on the night of your return...

It made you wonder if there was a man behind the mask after all.

You dance around each other in fleeting glances and quiet words, and the meaning of it all is contained in the distance between you. You never touch, never dare to scrape against the soot-dark form of him, but you feel the presence of him at your back all the same. Watching, guarding, a sentinel that you can’t find yourself to venture far from. You lay awake at night ruminating over the way he says your name, ‘Fix’ like it’s his mother-tongue, a word so inherent to his language that it makes you feel like you were born to belong there against his lips.

Now, in the darkness of the helicopter, Ghost basks in the wash of red light overhead. His arms are crossed, weapon at rest between his legs as he awaits the slow downturn of motion that signals your approach. When you catch his eyes, the Brit tilts his head at you, heavy helmet and night vision goggles shifting expectantly.

You smile at him a little nervously, feeling the return of taut anticipation flowing through your veins as the hour of your hunt inevitably draws closer.

“Good night for a hunt, eh LT?” You venture cautiously, feeling one of the marines beside you tense. Nobody has dared to say a word to Ghost for the entire journey so far, and instantly all the attention in the cabin seems to land on you and your hesitant, clever smile.

Ghost blinks at you, doesn’t move an inch from where he’s seated. In the dim, red light of the hold you can barely make out his half-lidded, lazy stare as he regards you. Unbothered, unlike the men around him, he huffs a small sound before replying.

“Can’t see shit on a night like this.” Is all he offers brusquely. It’s enough.

“Well that’s what night vision is for. Anyone ever tell you you look good in green, sir?”

Shit.

You instantly clamp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words you just spoke hang heavy in the space between you, and the silence that follows is deafening. You wince internally, struggling to contain your expression as a dozen eyes regard you- gawking at your brazen flirtation you just offered to your fucking CO.

You want to crawl six feet under.

You can make out the whites of Ghost’s eyes in the darkness, surprised and taken aback. It takes him a moment to collect himself, eyes hardening and words steely.

“Spend less time gawking and more time watching the rest of your squad, sergeant.” Ghost tells you pointedly, though it’s without true malice. You contain a cringe at the reprimand, wanting nothing more than to groan into your hands at your own foolishness.

Yet your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, because before you can stop yourself, you reply with a “Gawking isn’t the word I’d use, LT.”

The private beside you sucks in a deep, trembling breath.

“Is that right?” Ghost’s eyes are suddenly sharp as they pin you to where you sit. “What word would you use, then, sergeant?”

Christ alive, just send you home in a body bag.

You feel your mouth open and close a few times, desperately trying to find the words, any words with which to salvage the rapidly spiraling conversation. You should really shut up, offer a murmured apology and keep yourself silent for the rest of the mission, but the eyes of the other soldiers stare unblinkingly at you as you finally find your voice.

“Looking...respectfully? Sir.” You manage, a little strangled.

The marine on the other side of you snorts. Ghost glares at him, and the man clears his throat before avoiding the Brit’s gaze.

“’Respectful’ isn’t the word I’d use for your behavior right now.” Ghost warns, low and dark, and you sit up straighter just by his tone alone. “I’d suggest you find a way to sort that mouth of yours before we drop in.”

“Speaking of-” A different voice interrupts, and even the pilot seems a little perturbed by your conversation. “Approaching target. Five minutes out.”

That seems to divert everyone’s attention well away from you and towards the mission at hand. Mercifully, Ghost draws the attention of everyone on board as he stands and clutches at the ceiling to steady his massive form.

“Listen up.” He barks, a dozen eyes looking towards the source of the deep, growling Manchester accent as it repeats the name of the asset you’re after. “That’s our target, needed alive. You know your orders. Keep this op clean, understood? No fucking body bags.”

A chorus of ‘Yes Sir!’s joins your own voice. Ghost seems to take up all the space from floor to ceiling as he nods, begins again-

A sound catches your attention, a distant fizzle that you manage to hear above Ghost’s booming voice. You open your mouth, a warning on your lips-

“RPG!!” The co-pilot yells just as the alarm blares, and suddenly the heli tilts, launching you violently against your straps as the pilot takes evasive maneuvers. The cabin descends into a chaotic flurry of voices as the marines react, trying to process suddenly being under enemy fire.

What happens next takes only seconds.

The sudden change of axis has Ghost stumble, one hand clenched in a white knuckle grip against the ceiling. You can hear the rocket above the growing alarm just as it whooshes past the hull, missing the chopper by mere feet. The blades whine above you, straining as the pilots try to right the heli, grunting over the comms. Garbled radio traffic is drowned out by the groan of the chopper, and the sudden gasp that tears from your own throat as you instinctively suck in air.

Yet just as it seems the chopper rights itself, you hear another sound outside. The two pilots' voices drown out each other as a second alarm screeches, and you manage to catch Ghost’s shocked eyes just as the sound of the incoming missile reaches a shrieking whistle. You open your mouth to holler at him to get back in his seat, and you see him move in the same direction, finding his balance and stretching out the hand not attached to the ceiling-

“Deploying flares-!”

“Hang on!!”

The RPG catches the flares on the outside of the hull, but the impact is close enough it throws the heli sideways, sending the bird into a tailspin. You watch in horror as Ghost instantly loses the balance he’s collected, hand slipping from the ceiling as he’s hurled up into the overhead so hard you hear a crack even past the roar of the straining blades. If it’s your voice that screams for him, you aren’t sure, but instantly you’re reaching for your straps, fumbling in an attempt to reach him. Your hands shake, breathing shallow and rapid, world spinning endlessly as the pilots struggle to contain the bird into a controlled descent. There’s voices yelling above the claxon, screaming orders, but yours is silent, heart hammering as you try desperately to remember how to breathe.

Ghost slides limply across the floor, head lolling.

You yell as you reach for him, fingers barely scraping his helmet and night vision goggles, unable to catch a grip. Yet the two marines across from you holler over the comms, one set of hands and then the other managing to find the edges of Ghost’s tac vest and hauling him with tremendous effort up into his seat across from you. Just as they manage to secure him, the pilot’s voice once again yells over the comms, barely audible as the helicopter groans and shrieks and the alarms blare deafening in your ears. Everything is spinning, turning on a dizzying axis you can’t find the balance to. You’re not sure which way is up, trying vainly to track the ground growing closer through the window next to Ghost’s slouched form.

“Mayday, mayday, this is Bravo going down-”

“EVERYONE BRACE!!”

You shut your eyes, hands in a death grip on your seat straps. Your jaw clenches so hard you can feel your teeth grinding, but the sound is obliterated by the catastrophic groan of the heli around you. There’s no time to do anything else except pray, and you try to remember the hymns and blessings taught to you by your mother all that time ago- having lost them when faced with a God that didn’t care about the suffering and the damned.

Fuck. You think for a half-heartbeat, the G-force of the spin forcing your head against the wall before you manage to tuck it forward. Blood rushes in your ears, and you catch a glimpse of Ghost before you, body leaning as the inertia drags at him. I never got to tell him-

The impact is catastrophic.

It forces all the air up from the bottom of your lungs in a wheezing gasp, tossing you violently against your seat straps. The force of it digs sharply against your ribs, painful and horrific as your entire body is hurled about like a rag-doll. You have no doubt if you weren’t secured you’d go flying against the interior of the bird, likely breaking your neck and leaving your body to rot in the dry desert sand. The bird groans desperately around you, tilting dangerously so your feet tilt up towards your head, the blades thumping at the sand once, twice, before getting caught and going still. Even then, the chopper slides another dozen meters, threatening to roll over completely before you at last come to a shuddering stop.

It’s automatic when you start counting in your head. One, two, three- Your training instinctively kicks in. Wait for the debris to settle, check for fuel leaks-

As soon as you reach five you fumble for your buckle, clawing at it in an attempt to free yourself as your voice rises over the groans and wheezing gasps of the men around you. It takes a few attempts to get enough air into your lungs to yell to your team, feeling your chest struggle for oxygen as your heart races up into your throat.

“Report.” You manage, voice cracking with grit and sand just as your hands find your buckle, one arm bracing yourself on the wall behind and below you. The lights flicker. In the darkness of the desert, the stars obscured, you can scarcely make out the bulky figures of your comrades in the cabin- similarly trying to free themselves. The chopper seems to have rolled onto its side somehow, as you find yourself with your legs higher than your head, the forms of the marines around you all but dangling from their straps from where the ceiling should be. There’s a brunt, singed metal type of smell that instantly has your gut coil with the instinct to go, move, clear out-

A few breathless murmurs, and after a moment another voice in the darkness.

“We’re good here, sarg!”

You breathe a sigh of relief at that, until-

A groan, loud and low, somewhere towards the ramp.

“I-it’s Johnson! His helmet is off!”

“LT is unresponsive!”

“I think the pilots are dead!”

Fuck.

You don’t stop to consider the possibilities of what that means. Fear claws at your chest, and you give yourself a breath to stubbornly swallow it down. You know that panic is a death sentence in this situation, and losing your head means endangering not only yourself, but the rest of your team.

You run through your options as fast as you can, knowing every second could be a grain of sand in a rapidly draining hourglass.

The helicopter can’t fly. It’s dead. The comms may still work, and no doubt the crash alarm has signaled the base about the nature of the situation. Yet it’s unclear if the chopper is sound. You can’t smell smoke yet, but you know the mangled mess of metal may change at any moment, sparking with fire and consuming you all in one bright blaze. Even if that’s not the case, it doesn’t solve the fact that the RPGs had to have come from somewhere nearby. The window to evacuate shortens by the second, and so you raise your voice in the darkness, drawing the attention of the others.

“Everyone out!” You bark, finally unclasping your buckle and feeling gravity drag you down, gear and all. “Check your squad, make sure nobody is left behind!”

It takes effort with the weight of your supplies to force yourself up above the seats, feeling bodies around you do the same. Fortunately the wreckage feels stable, even if the tremble in your limbs has yet to settle. Your chest doesn’t seem to expand enough to suck in all the air you need as you fumble in the darkness, eyes drawn to the gaping hole where the tail of the helicopter used to be.

Your hand lands on the closest arm you can reach, feeling the other soldier startled in the flickering darkness. “You.” You manage, throat dry. “Help me get the pilots.”

“Yes ma’am!”

You precariously balance as you turn, catching the slumped figure of Ghost out of the corner of your eye and watching with blessed relief as he raises his head a few inches.

Thank God. You think with an exhale of utter gratitude. He’s alive.

Yet the task at hand remains, and as Ghost is balanced between the shoulders of two marines, scarcely lucid, you turn towards the flight controls, a younger corporal just behind you.

There’s shattered glass at the windshield, and it allows the nighttime wind to breeze inside, sand spilling over the cracked panels and monitors. A red light flickers erratically overhead, illuminating the limp forms of the two pilots. It’s not an easy undertaking to wrestle free the two unresponsive men- one of them sticky with what you assume is blood as you haul them towards the exit carved by your landing. You’re not even sure they’re alive, but you’ll be damned if you leave them after their miraculous mid-air recovery that likely saved the rest of you.

“Damn good pilot, Smith.” The marine grunts beside you as he shoulders the pilot and makes towards the exit. “Sure hope this sonofabitch made it.”

You silently wish the same, hauling the co-pilot by his straps backwards with you, nearly tumbling twice before mercifully making it towards the hatch someone has kicked free. You can hear garbled words over the radio, and in the blinking light you see a small shower of sparks as the dashboard short-circuits. Thankfully, it doesn’t catch into flame, and you at last make it onto gritty desert sand with the limp form of the co-pilot atop you.

Two soldiers on either side of you manage to hoist him up and allow you to scramble to your feet. It’s the first time you’re able to take stock of the situation now that you’re free, heart thumping against your ribs and form trembling from the adrenaline still pumping fresh through your veins.

Good God.

The crash looks like something out of a grotesque action film. The tail lays feet away from the rest of the bird, one of the blades sticking straight up into the night sky and the over bent in a mangled wreck only feet away from you. There’s bits of metal and debris strewn around you, smoking and stinking as they’re half buried in the sand.

It’s nothing less than a miracle that you’re standing, bruised and battered as you are.

Twelve of you total, including the pilots. Four of you are standing, another kneeling beside the prone forms of the injured and two more helping to rest the co-pilot next to them. You check yourself, cataloging the various scrapes and bruises you can feel under your gear, and managing a prayer of thanks when you don’t immediately feel anything broken or bleeding.

and in your second breath-

“Where’s the lieutenant?”

“Over here ma’am!”

You turn on a swivel, neatly avoiding the debris as you find Ghost sat halfway up, eyes bleary but focusing upon seeing you.

“Fix.” He offers groggily, and the breathless sound of relief that leaves you is far from subtle. It takes you two steps to kneel before him, a wobbly smile on your face.

“Chopper went down, LT.” You convey quietly.

Ghost gives you a scathing look. No shit. It seems to offer. Were it not for the dire circumstances, you might have even laughed at the utter annoyance in his eyes.

“What’s our status?” He bites, hands limp at his sides and making no motion to inspect himself just yet.

You look at the chopper, rolled halfway on its side, one of the rotors bent and buried deep into the sand. It’s clear it isn’t going to fly again.

“We’re stranded. Emergency beacon went up as soon as the bird went down, but it likely will be a few hours before we see any sort of response- and that’s if they decide to fly despite the RPGs in the area.”

You suck in a breath then, steadying yourself. The truth of the situation begins to wash over you with cold, deathly dread.

“We’re on our own.”

There’s movement behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to where a few of the men have gathered, looking to Ghost for orders. You look to him as well, trying to track his eyes in the darkness. He looks...unsteady. You can tell he’s still trying to get his bearings after blacking out, and briefly it makes you wonder just how severe his concussion is.

“You solid?” You ask him quietly, trying not to draw too much attention from the men hovering anxiously around you both.

“Fine.” Ghost grits, but makes no effort to stand just yet.

Liar.

“What’s our move, Ghost?” One of the other soldiers asks, eyes darting between you to the mission’s designated CO.

Before Ghost can answer, you stand, drawing the attention of everyone including Ghost.

“I want a perimeter around the crash.” You state, settling yourself where you stand. “No doubt the team that crashed us saw us go down. They’re headed our way. Head on a swivel. Let’s make sure we see them before they’re on top of us. Move the wounded to whatever cover you can find. I’ll handle triage. Salvage whatever supplies you can from the helo, but if you smell smoke or fuel you let me know as soon as you do, understood?”

There’s a beat of silence from the men gathered around you, some of them shifting nervously, their eyes flitting between you and Ghost, who looks up at you in a mixture of shock and some sort of irritation you can’t place.

“I said understood?” You bark, making several of the men jump.

“Yes ma’am!”

“Good. Now you, and you-” You point out two men at the back of the small huddle. “You’re with me. I need your assist for triage. You two, I want to know what supplies we have left in the helo. Dawson, I want you to radio base and give them a report of our status. See if you can find answers about how long until we see a rescue team. The rest of you, I want you on the perimeter. Now.”

It’s only after the small huddle has dispersed that you turn to Ghost, nearly flinching at the ire there in his eyes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, sergeant?” He seethes, and you have to swallow down the sudden bout of fright at his tone- dark and furious.

Your hands shake. It’s not rare to encounter Ghost in an annoyed or irritated mood, but what this is right now, the bright blaze of your lieutenant's eyes in the desert darkness, has a warning of danger zipping down your spine and settling low and heavy in your stomach. 

No doubt he doesn’t appreciate you overriding him, injured as he is. Ghost is used to calling the shots on missions, and you know it’s a comfortable position for him, not having to rely on others' judgment to ensure his own survival. His own instincts pave the way for his men, allowing them to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. In control, it means he doesn't question his superiors and if they truly have his survival in their interests. 

It stings, admittedly, that he doesn’t seem to have that faith in you to make a call when he’s concussed as he is, his eyes still trying to focus on your form above him. You thought by now you might have earned that.

Perhaps you’re wrong about that.

“I’m sorry sir.” You offer at last. “I’m not trying to override your command, but you’re injured-”

“I told you I’m fine.” Ghost snarls, shifting and trying to get his legs under him. It’s a wobbly sort of maneuver, and you resist the urge to aid him, knowing he’d only shrug you off with a growl.

“Ghost.” You manage tightly, trying to swallow down the hurt of his anger. “You’re concussed.”

Ghost pauses then, still glaring at you, but manages to raise himself up to a stand anyways. There’s a beat between you before Ghost is suddenly leaning into your space. You have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact with his higher stature, setting your jaw and trying not to flinch as his eyes burn down into your own.

“I did not give you permission to take command of this mission.” He growls, low and deadly. The vibration of it hums through you, settles low in your gut as a threat that you try vainly to ignore. There’s a natural instinct inside you to automatically defer to Ghost despite his injury, the fact that his pupils are blown completely wide and you think you can see the white edge of his mask tint with something dark and slick that oozes from his head.

You want to tell him you outrank him when it comes to the health and safety of the men, that your status as a medic means you can assess him if he isn’t of sound operational mind. You know his call wouldn’t have varied drastically from your own. Yet you also know that if Ghost perceives you to be a question to his authority the second he gets injured, it means hell for you in any future missions you may be on with him.

It means it might erase any trust you’ve managed to gain from him after all this time.

Ghost towers over you, hands clenched at his sides. You keep your gaze locked on his, trying to maintain a brave face despite the grave warning in his stare.

“Fall in line, sergeant.” He growls, voice bone deep and drumming dark into your skull. 

You shouldn’t.

You do.

“Apologies, sir.” You offer in deference as you finally avert your gaze, feeling something liquid hot burn under your skin at the action. “Your orders.”

Ghost seems to relax a bit, shoulders unwinding as he lets out a long, slow exhale. Your own air still feels caught tightly in your chest, your heartbeat thumping like a battered thing between your ribs.

Ghost studies you, and even without meeting his gaze you can tell his stare hasn’t ventured from your form. What he seems to be searching for is unclear, and you restrain the urge to look back up at him, allowing him to see the bitterness in your eyes. He doesn’t need to see how much his lack of faith in you carves something deep and wounded into your skin, a failure in yourself to prove yourself to the man you admire the most.

“Handle triage. I’ll check the perimeter.” He orders abruptly, voice more even now that you’ve ceded to his authority. You nod mutely, not meeting his eyes, feeling a wash of shame and anger warm your face as you avoid his stare.

You turn from him in the direction of the injured men when his voice catches you again.

“Fix.”

You pause, not turning.

Ghost is silent at your back. He seems to be weighing his words, debating with himself. The desert breeze whispers at the bare skin of your neck where his gaze seems to be resting. The flickering red light from the helicopter washes crimson over your form.

“Good call.” Is all he offers, and you blink, lips parting in surprise as he brushes past you brusquely. The moment is gone in an instant as he moves towards the marines with their night vision trained on the horizon, broad and dark against the starless night sky.

Alone in his shadow you wonder why, despite his anger, his words sounded almost trusting.

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Fic Tag: Shadow and Bone