#thank you for the request!! please come again!!!!

[authorhjk1]

How would you do a short free-use story staring your favorite idol?

Thanks for the ask! Although I'm not sure what you mean exactly with "How" Do you want me to explain it or write it? I decided to just write it, hope you enjoy. @mechaknight-98 I saw your other request, I will get to it when I have the time.

(I hope I understood the concept of free-use correctly)

White

Kim Jisoo X Male Reader

You hear voices behind the door, after you rang the doorbell. Footsteps come closer and you take a step back. A moment later, the door is being opened.

For a moment, you are stunned by her beauty. How can a person be so pretty? So perfect? You smell her flowery scent. Maybe roses.

Her eyes grow big once she realises who is standing in front of her.

"(Y/n), I-I..."

Jisoo stutters, too surprised to see you standing in front of her parent's mansion. The young heiress of the Kim Group is usually very well spoken.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just came back from a business trip. I haven't had your pussy in weeks."

You catch her flinching.

Despite the amount of times you've already taken advantage of your arrangement, she is still uncomfortable talking about it openly.

"S-Sure. Please follow me."

Jisoo turns around and leads you inside her parent's place, after you shut the door behind you. You walk behind her, enjoying the view of her naked shoulders. The back of her necklace sparkles in the light of the chandelier in the hallway.

Approaching the big wooden stairs in the middle of the house, the two of you pass by the entrance to the dining room.

"Jisoo!"

She freezes in place, before you both look into the room. You recognize her parents, who sit on one side of the table. A chair is empty, the one next to it is occupied by Jisoo's fiance.

"Who is this man?"

Her father looks at you in suspicion.

"He is a business partner of mine. We are headed to my study, cause we have to make an important decision on the future of our companies' relationship, which can't be delayed."

That's the Jisoo everyone knows. The strong, independent and successful businesswoman. The complete opposite of the Jisoo you know. Your submissive, free-use toy.

Her father nods in approval, visibly oblivious. You do a short bow in his direction. Jisoo starts walking again. Her chin raised, back straight.

Halfway up the stairs, you can't help it anymore. She just looks flawless. And you really have been longing for her for weeks.

You reach out, your hand squeezing her ass through her white dress. Jisoo jumps, but she doesn't say anything. She keeps walking as if nothing is happening. After squeezing her right cheek a couple of times, you stop walking, making her stop too.

"Suck me off."

Jisoo turns around. You are almost at the top of the stairs already. You see the confusion in her eyes. Why can't you wait one more minute?

But she doesn't talk back. Jisoo carefully gets on her knees in front of you, making sure she doesn't mess up her dress somehow.

A moment later, your cock lands on her face. Jisoo closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she savours your smell. You can tell that your absence made her sexually frustrated.

"Are you still waiting until you married him?"

It's an odd question to ask, when the soon to be bride is giving the tip of your dick a sensual kiss.

"Yes. But he keeps trying to initiate something. I don't know if he is gonna wait until he puts a wedding ring on my finger."

You sigh as your gaze gets caught on the big silver diamond ring on her ring finger. The hand it's on is stroking your cock, while she talks.

"I don't like it. But I can't blame him."

You reach down and cup her cheek. Jisoo leans into it, looking up at you with big eyes.

"A woman like you could make a man do whatever she wants. You are fucking gorgeous."

You quickly realize the irony of your words. You are making her do whatever you want.

"Thank you."

A shy smile plays around her lips. Jisoo still can't take compliments. At least when they are coming from you.

After your quick exchange, she finally starts giving you head properly. You can't believe how much of a slut you've turned her into. She is sucking you off in the middle of her parents house in plain sight, while her parents and her boyfriend are in the room next door.

"That's a good girl."

You encourage Jisoo as she bobs her head on your cock. You've missed her mouth. The way her lips wrap around you. The way her tongue glides along your length. The way her throat tightens, when you push past her gag reflex.

As exciting and adventurous this little scene might be, you know that you will get caught sooner rather than later, if you don't move on.

"Let's go to your room. I don't want to waste my time here when I could be in there, plowing your pussy like I own it."

You help Jisoo to her feet, catching the slight blush on her cheeks.

"Because I do."

You whisper into her ear, before spinning her around.

The two of you finally make it down the hallway without any further incidents. Once you reach her room, you walk inside, waiting for her to close the door behind her.

She has turned into a shy, innocent girl once again. You lean against Jisoo, pressing her against the door, kissing every inch of her exposed skin.

"How did I even make it these couple of weeks without this body of yours?"

It was a rhetoric question between kisses, but Jisoo tries to come up with an explanation. An explanation that satisfies you.

"I send you several pictures of me every day. And videos. I kept thinking of you while I..."

A growl escapes your lips. The power you have over her right now gives you a familiar rush of adrenaline.

"Strip."

You sit down on the edge of her bed, crossing your arms in front of you. If you were sitting on a chair at your desk, it would've looked like Jisoo was there to apply for an internship.

She shyly brushes all of her hair on her right side behind her ear.

"Can you help me please?"

Jisoo turns around. She know uses her whole hand to put all of her hair over her left shoulder. You reach upwards, taking the zipper of her dress, before slowly pulling it down. Your eyes follow her dress as she lets it slip down her frame.

Her porcelain like skin and her white lace panties captivate you. Her fiance must go mad, knowing she is together with him and he still can't have her.

The sight of Jisoo, standing in front of you almost completely naked, makes you finally jump into action. You pin her against the door, before she can react. Your pants are on the floor a second later.

After pushing the white fabric to the side, Jisoo does nothing but moan as you ease yourself inside.

"Oh fuck."

You groan into her ear, relishing in the familiar feeling of being inside her tight cunt. Jisoo's cheek is pressed up against the white wood as she takes your pounding from behind. Her moans are deeper than they usually are. Maybe because you haven't fucked her in a while. Or because her parents and fiance are downstairs.

You kiss her other cheek and her naked shoulders as you thrust into her again and again. Her scent only makes you go harder. You hold her waist with both hands, pounding her against the door.

Jisoo's eyes are closed. You can't tell if it's because she is liking it so much, or because she is cheating. Either way, you keep using her body to make yourself cum. Her tight walls do most of the job. They squeeze around you, trying to make you cum as quick as possible.

Leaning against her, you fuck her into the door, slowly approaching your orgasm.

"Fuck Jisoo."

She knows what's coming next, moaning a little louder as she feels you throbbing inside of her.

That rush, coming from knowing you are using another man's woman as a free-use toy, pushes you over the edge. You claim Jisoo's pussy as yours as you paint her insides white. She feels your cum warm her lower region. While her fiance is probably begging her to sleep with him, you don't even bother asking where she would want your cum. You creampie Kim Jisoo, enjoying the familiar feeling of her cum filled pussy squeezing your cock.

Jisoo was never the loud type. Which is a blessing in disguise, especially when you use her in public. She barely talks, only moans and whines escape her mouth. It fits her reserved, proud character. Jisoo doesn't look very elegant or proud right now as you finally come to a hold. You bite into her ear, just above her earrings. As she flinches and hisses in pain, you only have time to think for barely a second. You wonder if she bought them, or her fiance did. They look beautiful on her.

When you open your eyes again, you see your teeth marks in her ear. Jisoo's forehead is now leaning against the wood. Her eyes are still closed, she is taking heavy breaths.

Resting your chin on her naked shoulder, you stay buried inside her snug hole.

"I have a meeting with your company tomorrow."

You kiss her neck, this time more careful not to leave a mark.

"Put your hair in a ponytail. I need something to hold onto. You don't want me to mess up your hair, do you?"

You step into her huge office after the first half of the long meeting is over. Jisoo surely did not disappoint.

Throughout the whole meeting, you were the only person aware of the fact that Jisoo is not wearing anything underneath that dress. She send you a picture this morning. She is only one button away from standing naked in front of you.

You walk around her desk, sitting down in her comfortable leather chair. Jisoo knows how the two of you will spend your lunch break.

[moonstruckme]

Hello!! Starting this off with the mushy gushy stuff like how much I adore your writing and talent and how I hope you know how appreciated you are, all that jazz 👐 Anywhosies, onto the nitty gritty, the other day in my psych lecture I learned more in depth about operant conditioning, which is a theory by B.F Skinner about how a behavior is either reinforced or encouraged through a series of punishments and/or reinforcements, and i thought of our resident brainiac, Spencer Reid! He seems the type to be interested in theories like that and there application in day-to-day life, and so what else is he supposed to do other than condition fem!reader! (Consensually and safely of course) obviously he wouldn’t have malicious intent, but say reader wasn’t super confident in the bedroom, he would steadily over time ‘condition’ her into being more open about her wants and needs through rewards when she’s vocal! If you are in any way uncomfortable writing this please feel free to disregard! <33333

This was fun!! Thank you for requesting babe :)

cw: smut mdni, fingering, edging

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 912 words

You gasp, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. Spencer looks up at you interestedly. 

“That’s progress,” he says, but frowns when he sees your lip. He lets go of your leg to encourage it free. “Don’t do that, please.” 

“Sorry,” you manage, breathless. You feel shaky. 

Spencer offers you a smile, brown eyes so kind it hurts. “That’s okay. We’re learning, right? I don’t expect you to pick it up all at once.” 

You’re not sure how to respond to that and in the end you don’t have to, Spencer’s fingers sliding over your folds and stealing your breath again. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says, his own breathing affected by your reaction. He’s bolder in bed than you expected him to be, more direct, but really you should have seen it coming. Spence is relentless when he’s working a case. “Is that okay?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

He doesn’t go where you expect him to, his mouth finding the tender bit of skin below your ear. 

“Is this nice?” he asks, kissing slowly downward. You trail your hands up his back and rock into his fingers, only just starting to get into it when he moves down to your breast. “How about this?” 

You suppress a horrifically needy sound, and for a minute it seems like Spencer takes the hint. He mouths up the side of your breast, teeth scraping lightly as he gets closer to the pert bud of your nipple. 

“Yeah?” 

He strokes a lithe hand up your side, thumb soothing over the opposite side of your tit. His fingers part your folds, moving towards your clit, and you’re burning up, incinerating from the inside out. You wind your fingers in Spencer’s hair just before the hand at your breast leaves. It takes both of your hands by the wrists, guiding them above your head. 

Spencer smooths his thumb over your pulse, not pinning you (he’d never deny you anything you want, not really), not so much a restraint as a reminder. You have an agreement. 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “Yeah, there is good.” 

“Thank you,” he says, and if you couldn’t tell he means it by his tone, Spencer gives you extra encouragement by pushing two gentle fingers into your hole. Your lips part in a soundless gasp as he covers them with his.

“You know, when you like something, your body responds.” He brings his other hand back to your breast, cupping experimentally. His index finger grazes your nipple so lightly you could have mistaken it for a breeze. “But it would make things even easier if you told me yourself. You can do that, can’t you?” 

“I can.” Your brain goes all staticy as Spencer’s thumb finds your clit, searching for purchase in the wetness he’s been tormenting out of you for god knows how long now. “I can, please, I can.” 

“You don’t need to say please, it’s okay. You can just tell me what you want.” 

The problem is, you have no notes, truly. Spencer’s fingers are working in and out of you at the perfect pace, deliciously long and brain-fuzzingly dextrous. His thumb skates crude figure-eights over the bead of your clit until you’re trembling, your hands balled up tight in the bedsheets. 

Middle and marriage sponge over something sweet inside you, and you clench around him, swallowing a moan. 

Spencer makes a quiet, satisfied sound. “Here?” 

His fingers press into the spot again, and you gasp, arching off the bed. They go still. 

“Yesyesyes,” you say, words all jumbling together in your desperation. “There. There.” 

“Here,” he checks, just to be sure, as his fingers move over the spot again. 

“Yes.” Tears sting your eyes. “Yes, there. Spence—” 

Spencer waits a few beats. When you don’t seem likely to continue, he prompts gently, “Are you going to cum? You should say so, if you are.” 

He’s doubtless seen the quivering that’s taken your thighs, but you nod anyway, panting out another fraught, “Yes.” 

“Okay.” He kisses the corner of your lips sweetly as he picks up his pace. “Thank you for telling me.” 

You moan without quieting yourself when his grip tightens on your breast. Spencer rewards you for it, kissing dedicatedly at your bottom lip while he kneads the fat, sending pleasure like waves of deep bass buzzing through you. His other thumb increases its pressure on your clit, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you hardly audible over both of your breathing as he finds that spot again, and again, until you think you probably scream. 

Spencer assures you later that you didn’t. That, actually, the sound you made seemed half choked back, and that’s another thing he’d like to work on next time. But for now, he’s happy enough to treat you to a myriad of kisses, soft, sweet presses of his mouth without want for anything more. He encourages you up to use the bathroom, and when you come back, lets you lay on top of him on a clean part of the bed, your cheek pressed to his chest. 

“Okay,” you sigh, eyes closing as Spencer’s hand coasts down the bare skin of your back. “You wanna know what I want, for next time?” 

“Of course I do,” he says genuinely. 

“I want you to use your handcuffs.” 

Spencer’s hand stills. You lift your head, and he looks curious. “I think we have time for that tonight, don’t you?” 

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙sickly sweet | OB38/87/whatever˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: ollie bearman x driver!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, new relationship

warnings: very fluffy lol

summary: in which you & your new boyfriend act too sweet online and your friends are extremely overprotective !!!

a/n: ollie is deffo a new one for me lol im not rly a massive fan of writing driver!reader ngl but i did it for u anon pls appreciate <333

request!!!: driver!reader x Ollie bearman just them being sickly in love with one another and the other f1 drivers being protective about y/n

fc: various brunette girls from pinterest

my masterlist

instagram ->

f1updates

liked by user16, user1, user33 and others

f1updates mclaren rookie driver y/n y/l/n seen at a sports game this weekend with f2 driver ollie bearman ♥️

tagged: yourusername, olliebearman

view all comments

user1 are they dating??

user2 yea but it's pretty new i think

user3 omg so cute

user4 awww the way she's looking at him 🥹🥹

user5 TOO CUTEEE

user6 who is he??

user7 f2 driver lol and reserve driver for ferrari & haas

user8 idk who im more jealous of

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, alex_albon, and others

yourusername anyways

view all comments

user9 OMGGG HELLOOO OLLIE

mclaren that better be papaya 👀

yourusername cheating on u with a mango 😕

mclaren 😵

user10 LOL? they are so unserious

landonorris cancel your weekend plans

yourusername excuse u

charles_leclerc we're staging an intervention

yourusername i wont be attending, sorry

maxverstappen1 oh dont worry y/n, we'll come to you 😊

yourusername guys please you cant "stage an intervention" just bc i have a bf now

carlossainz55 sure

user11 HAHAHA FREE HER

user12 ijbol they r so overprotective

alex_albon grid princess

liked by yourusername

olliebearman ♥️🫶

liked by yourusername

georgerussell63 read the room

landonorris 🤨

yourusername ignore them ollie

user13 LOLLLLL

olliebearman posted a story

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and others

lilymhe cuties

liked by olliebearman

user14 omg im obsessed with u guys

user15 papaya prin 🥹🥹🥹

landonorris delete

carlossainz55 blocked and reported

maxverstappen1 watch your footing

alex_albon stay safe out there

olliebearman 😬😬😬

yourbff posted a story

liked by olliebearman, alex_albon, and others

georgerussell63 not you too

yourbff awwww stop being a loser

charles_leclerc interesting

yourbff UR NOT HER FATHER 😂

user16 OMG GOALS

user17 they r sosososo cute tgthr

user18 i jus know the rest of the grid r spamming ur dm rn

liked by yourbff

lilymhe the boys are so triggered and she dgaf

yourbff they are such little worms! free my baby y/n

f1updates

liked by user18, olliebearman, and others

f1updates mclaren rookie driver y/n y/l/n spotted once again with f2 driver ollie bearman in romantic embrace, out for lunch at a fast food chain with friends during a week long break in the season !

tagged: yourusername, olliebearman

view all comments

user19 my ollieyn heart

user20 ollie liking this omg he's down bad 😭

user21 obsessed with y/n finally noticing ollie when he drove for ferrari this season instead of when they were both in f2

user22 she's real for this

user23 no one can say tht girl isn't all about the racing

user24 lovethemlovethemlovethem

user25 im down bad crying at the gym😭

user26 would kill to see the grid group chat after this dropped 💀

user27 😂 they are so protective of the papaya princess

user28 as they should be tbh

maxverstappen1 not again...

f1updates MAX??!!

user29 what is max doing here 😂

olliebearman oh no.....

user30 screaming

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername 📍 monte-carlo

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername my first podium in f1 in freaking monaco 🥺 i wanna thank my family and friends, my team and my fellow drivers who made an impossible transition from idols to friends thank u so so much i can't believe this is my life 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

view all comments

olliebearman so proud 🧡

maxverstappen1 will let it slide for today

user31 LOL taking a day off

landonorris smashed it

charles_leclerc so proud! an honour to share the podium with you

alex_albon papaya QUEEN

georgerussell63 never doubted you for a second!

mclaren that's our girl 🧡

user32 eating the right fruit this time 😂

carlossainz55 no one else i'd rather be beaten by 😊

lilymhe my fav girl boss

user33 everyone loves her sm 🥹🥹

user34 so happy for her i cried fr

yourbff my little legend <3

olliebearman

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and others

olliebearman congratulations to our y/n on her first f1 podium so unbelievably proud of you and in awe of everything you do everyday. i love you 🩷

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

user35 OMGGG a whole post for her

user36 screaming this is so so cute

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

liked by olliebearman, yourusername

maxverstappen1 oh

yourusername 🤨?

carlossainz55 this is actually very nice

georgerussell63 ...agree

landonorris 😳

olliebearman no way

yourusername you won them over....

alex_albon FINALLY

user37 scream

user38 hahahaha awww they finally accepted ollie 🙏

user39 obsessed with everything about this omg

user40 I LOVE OLLIEYN

yourusername stop it you'll make me cry!!!! i love you so much i couldn't have done it without you

olliebearman well you could but i appreciate the sentiment 😘

THE END 🧡❤️

[fefern]

OMFGGG I LOVED UR WUWA DATING HCS THEY WERE SOO CUTESHSJAJAJASNZJ<33 since your requests are currently open, can I request headcanons of wuwa Jiyan on how would he react to his s/o (gender neutral) who’d always swoon and admire the way he fights his enemies/protect others? Tyyyyyy!

✧˖° admiring jiyan when he fights. | jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: the general is the toughest guy around, and one amazing fighter too! what's it like when he catches you admiring his fighting skills?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved: jiyan, gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none! only a hint of suggestiveness if you really, really squint.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: UWAHHH thank you for the kind compliment on my dating hc's, you're such a sweetheart (๑˘ᵕ˘)! i hope you enjoy this tons! requests are still open so send them as you please! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jiyan ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

ever since you’ve come into his life, jiyan will sometimes bring you along when he trains or goes out on his daily rounds to make sure everything is going smoothly. 

he’s hesitant to agree at times when you ask to come along, mainly because he really cares about you and your safety (as both the general and your lover.)

very protective and almost overreactive to his surroundings, the slightest of sounds is enough for him to gently grab you and put you safely behind him.

when danger does arise on rounds, he’s swift to protect you, pulling out his weapon and eliminating the enemy with a precision that’s unlike anything anyone has ever seen. 

or, he’ll put multiple dummies on the ground and within a few seconds, they’re all chopped up into pieces as he wipes his brow and repeats the process. 

when he’s in his element like this, everything around him is a bit blocked out, but one day, he hears you gasping when he eliminates some tacet discords. 

he turns around, worried that you got hurt, but instead, there you are, admiring with a sparkle in your eye the way he eliminated those enemies. 

he’ll give you a small tilt of his head, asking you what he did to get you to look at him like that.

when you mention how good of a protector and fighter he is, he’ll try to brush it off as it just being his duty at first, but when you persist, he’ll feel a small blush creep onto his cheeks. 

he was so cool! the way he would slash enemies like it was nothing, how he'd look so calm and focused, how precise he was with his weapon, the more you take note of, the more his eyes widen.

jiyan will give a small smile to you, bowing a bit as a thank you. 

he has been a general for so long that fighting and protecting the people like this was second nature, so for you to find him cool while doing so makes him feel sheepish. 

“thank you, my love. until my last breath, i will continue to fight and protect you with everything i have.”

a few other points i thought of:

if you cheer after he’s done training, a few of the other midnight rangers will chuckle a bit at the enthusiasm. he waves them off, but his cheeks do turn a soft pink as he watches you hype him up.

once you pat him on the back where his tacet marks were and he was quick to take your hand. suggested you pat…elsewhere, for next time. those areas are sensitive after all.

one time, a tacet discord got close to him and broke the ponytail keeping his hair up. he finished them off easily, but having his hair flowing down behind him is enough for you to begin swooning again. your compliments on his hair make him give a small smile as you two walk along. 

(imagine his hair down,,,FROTHING AT THE MOUTH-)

[f1smutwriter]

Hi tis me again

I feel awkward with all the request. I'm just obsessed with f1 rn.

Pierre learning to do your acrylic nails so he can spend more time with you during the f1 season.

This guy's love language is acts of service and quality time

Chilling in the hotel in pajamas drinking wine and sushi getting your nails done by pierre gloating about your man on socials like "your bf could never but here's what mine does." Maybe he gets teased about ut by the other drivers but who cares he bagged a bad bitch and he's in love.

Almond shape but otherwise what ever is fine.

| 𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧 (𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎)

𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Pierre the perfect boyfriend anyone could ask for. He adores his girlfriend and treats her like the princess she is. So he learned to do nails just for his princess

Warnings: nothing just some tea and cursing

Notes: Gosh these Pierre fics you request gosh I love them. Like these are my favorite things to write when the guy just does something to spend time with you. This is my first time doing the Instagram thing on tumblr but I do them all the time on Wattpad so if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll change it for you girl. Hope you love it!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Ma chérie you ready” he called out for me as I come out of the bathroom with a smile. “Hi handsome” I smiled kissing his lips softly as I sit down on the bed so he can paint my toes. “I learned this cool new thing. Best thing ever” he smiled as he rubbed my feet softly making me sigh feeling more relaxed.

“Handsome I don’t know why you do this, you don’t have to” I whispered softly making her chuckle softly. “Mon cœur I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to” he smiled softly kissing my leg making me shiver softly. “I get to spend more time with you, plus I want to pamper my girl” He smiled making me blush from his words.

“Why do you have to be so perfect all the time” I mumbled before he snorts causing me to laugh with him. “You know what sounds amazing right now” I whispered softly as he looks up at me. “Why are you whispering” he laughed making me kick him softly. “Sushi and wine” I groaned softly craving both of them. “Want me to order us sushi and wine” he asked softly making me nod frantically. He goes over to the phone and orders room service.

“Coming in about 30 minutes” he said softly making me squeal. “thank you baby” I whispered kissing him feeling him grab my waist to kiss me back softly. “Gosh you have no idea how in love I am with you” he whispered kissing my neck softly. “Let’s get back to your nails before I take you right here right now” he said sitting me down on my chair while he paints my nails.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, and 1,000,000 others

yourusername: get you man who does all this for you, and his excuse to do all this was. “Amour I need to pamper you”

Tagged: pierregasly

view all comments

charles_leclerc: this needed to stay in the drafts

yourusername: someone is mad I took their man

charles_leclerc: mad your always second place 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: really because last time I checked I’m first place babes 😙

pierregasly: my pretty girl I love you ❤️

yourusername: I love you more handsome

User: Charles hate to break it to you but your second

charles_leclerc: I know :(

alexandrasaintmleux: oh for Charles to do this for me

yourusername: you don’t need Charles babe you have me 😉

charles_leclerc: back up bitch or we fight

yourusername: I’m slashing all your tyres

carlossainz55: NO please don’t we need to win

yourusername: oh well bye bye Ferrari

lilymhe: the fact I’ve been stalking your page

yourusername: babe stalk my page all you want

alexalbon: not only are you stealing my girl but Charles girl to

yourusername: I’m after all the wags my master plan

lilymhe: tbh I’d let her take me

alexalbon: 😣

maxverstappen1: he’s lowkey whipped for you

yourusername: yes he is and guess what I love it

pierregasly: I am she gives good head 💁‍♂️

yourusername: 😧

pierregasly: it had to be said Mon amour I’m sorry

User: I want a guy to treat me like this

User: me to they make me feel so single

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“Mon amour you posted me” Pierre asked shaking his head making me giggle. “Yes I had to baby, had to show everyone who my man was” I smiled before he grabbed me putting me on his lap. He started kissing my neck softly, feeling myself let out a small whimper. “I love you so much you have no idea baby” he whispered softly in my ear making me blush. “I love you more handsome” I smile before he kissed my head softly. “I love you the most princess” He whispered going back to kissing my neck.

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Pierre just got on the paddock now walking towards his garage to look at the car, but he got stopped by one of his best friends. “Bro painting her nails and all of that your whipped mate” Charles snorted before laughing at him. “Why am I whipped because I love my girl” He smiled at Charles before Charles shakes his head.

“I do it because I don’t spend time with her I’m always away, so it gives us some time together” Pierre explained making Charles let out a small smile. “It’s nice to see you like this man, all in love and everything” Charles commented as Pierre feels his cheeks get red. “Me in love what about you and Alex I see how you guys are with each other” Pierre laughed softly now making Charles blush a bit. “Look at us two blushing fools” Charles snorted making them both laugh out.

“Who would have thought” Pierre laughed softly as they both walk down the paddock.

“Who would have thought” Charles smiled softly

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes: I’m sorry this was short but I kinda was running out of things to say. I hope you guys liked it, and please send more requests I beg you.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Escape | Bucky Barnes

// Pairing //

-> WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Scientist!Female!Reader

// Summary //

-> Bucky and you use the chance to escape Hydra together.

// Wordcount //

-> 2.278 Words

//Warnings // Teen

-> Fluff, slightly angst, mention of brain washing, one sentence with sexual hint (but nothing really)

// Request //

-> Totally not sending this cause you asked me to :) Could I please request another part to the fantastic WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!ScientistWorker!Female!Reader work you did? Absolutely no rush tho!! <3 Love you 😍💋 @somnorvos

// Authors Note //

-> Thank you for the request, hope you like it. Love you too, princess.Thank you to @lanabuckybarnes for proofreading, means a lot bbg!

-> Second part of “The Winter Soldier”

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

You don’t know why but his lips against yours feel so soft and warm. The cold man, the most feared assassin, has the softest lips you have ever felt on your skin. His hands are still on your hips, digging into your soft skin.

Bucky feels so familiar, his lips, his touches, just his presence. You already knew you fell for the super soldier, even though you rarely talked, he never scared you. Maybe because you have always seen the broken soul deep under the surface or his intense cold stare.

When both of you need to catch your breath, you pull away just enough to do so. His forehead rests against yours and he is looking straight into your soul. His blue eyes are so full of emotion, and you have never seen it like that before.

“You know they will wipe me when they find out about this, and they won’t let you work here either. I-I don’t want them to hurt you, but they only need to see the emotions in my eyes and they will-“ he pauses, closing his eyes for a moment.

You feel his shaking breath against your lips. You bring your hands to his neck, caressing it softly. “I know but— there is something only the people who work in the lab know about. Bucky, you have to be the winter soldier for one more time and then we can be free, can you do that?”

With hope shining in his eyes he looks at you, then he nods. He would be the winter soldier when you need him to be, if it means that the two of you can be free together. “What do you have in mind?”

His large hands capture your cheeks and he smiles softly, something you have never seen before but you’re sure you want to see him smile more often. His nose slightly scrunched, his lips curl up while his eyes light up in the most adorable blue you have ever seen.

“When they want to bring you back into your cell I will tell them that you need to stay overnight for a few tests with the super soldier serum. And tonight you need to act like you have to lead me somewhere as the winter soldier,” you explain, pushing him softly back to the chair he sat on when he came into the lab earlier. Bucky nods, a slight shift in his expression shows you that he’s scared but at the same time he trusts you.

“And where are we going? I-I don’t have an apartment or money, I'm living in the cell here,” he mumbles, looking down while he lets himself take a seat on the chair, his hands wander down your body, stopping on your hips.

“I have an apartment, it’s in Romania,” you say, bringing one of your hands up to lift his head. The warm smirk on your lips causes him to smile back and nod once again.

“Sounds like a plan, doll,” Bucky says. He pulls you closer toward him until you’re standing between his spread legs. His head falls down against your belly and he sighs softly. Your heartbeat is calming him down, he knows he has to be the man he never wanted to be, but he won’t be him completely.

When the agents come back into the room, Bucky sits on the chair, staring at them, his expression doesn’t say anything about his feelings. Excitement rushes through his veins, the first time since he felt more like himself, that he could be happy. That he could be loved by someone — someone he can love back, and show affection towards.

“The soldier needs to stay overnight. We need to do some tests with the serum,” you explain to the agents who look at you with just cold gazes. They don’t ask anything further, they knew that someone in lab has to do their work just like they do, so they only nod, talking to one another before one of them turns toward Bucky.

“Солдат, тебе повезло, что ты нужен ей для анализа сыворотки, иначе мы бы тебя вытерли. Так что придется подождать до завтра.(Soldier, you're lucky she needs you to analyze the serum, or we'd have wiped you. So you'll have to wait till tomorrow.)” The agent laughs darkly and you notice the slight shift of Bucky’s expression but just as fast as it came, it's cold once again.

The soldier looks like he doesn’t even care what they say. But deep down, underneath the surface Bucky is gasping, his eyes would be filled with fear of being wiped again, to be just a machine for them.

“Good, then have fun,” one of the agents says, smirking at you, his eyes roaming over your body and you feel a shiver of disgust rushing through you. You push the urge to roll your eyes away and only turn around to pretend like you’re preparing something.

When the men leave the room and close the door behind them Bucky immediately jumps off the chair and causes you to jump too. His blue eyes roam over your body, slightly worried that you hurt yourself. “I’m sorry, I—I really don’t like that chair, it kind of scares me.”

You nod, smiling softly while you push the utensils to the side and make your way to the door, immediately locking it before you make your way to the couch, waiting for Bucky. He stares at the door, shifting from one to the other feet and you can see his blue eyes flicker with an emotion you haven’t seen often on Bucky’s face but he looks scared.

“Bucky?” You ask, waiting for him to look at you and he does, slowly. You see his body tensing even more when his eyes slide through the room and land on you. “Are you ok? Do you want me to unlock the door again?”

He shakes his head, forcing a smile on his lips before he walks closer to you. His legs shaking lightly and even his hands are shaking when he lets himself fall down next to you on the soft couch.

“Are you sure? We can unlock the door when it makes you feel safe?” You assure him but he once again shakes his head. Bucky inhales deeply, his right hand running through his long hair, he then clears his throat and looks at you.

“Isn’t it ironic, I hate locked doors because I can’t escape even though I can’t escape anyway. And a little part of me hopes that someone comes through the door and helps me to escape. The only people walking into the room are agents who want to wipe me,” Bucky sighs, chuckling softly.

“They won’t, we will manage to get out of here and then we go to the apartment in Romania, no one knows us there, we can start there, Bucky,” you tell him. You place one of your hands on his thick thigh and his eyes widen when you touch him so softly like that.

You hesitate if you should remove your hand or let it sit there, but he places his big one on your smaller one and you relax. “Not many people touch you in a soft way, do they?”

“Not really, but—“ he interrupts himself. Bucky’s lips curl up into the sweetest smile you have ever seen. It’s real, you can tell because his nose is scrunched and his eyes light up, the blue looking like the most beautiful ocean when the sun is shining. “I don’t know a ‘but’ they just never touched me softly.”

You nod, thinking about a question to ask him, and when you finally have one you two ask one another a lot of questions, small talk ones but also deep talk, you two chuckle but there are also serious topics and it never feels weird or uncomfortable to talk to him.

When the night comes and most agents are already in their rooms. You get up from the couch you’re still sitting on. You turn to face Bucky, who looks really nervous and you can’t blame him, you’re not much calmer than he is. And he has to pretend to still be the winter soldier, so you smile softly at him and place your hand under his chin to tilt his head back. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly against his, causing Bucky to sigh softly and place his hands on your hips.

“Are you ready?” You ask softly, he nods his head but his eyes tell you everything. He isn’t, how could he, when he just shows a bit of emotion outside this room you both will be in so much trouble. But he wants to be strong, he wants to help you to escape and he wants it too. “It’s fine, one more time being the winter soldier, Buck.”

He nods his head once again, leaning his forehead against yours before he inhales deeply. “Can I kiss you once more?” He asks, his blue eyes looking pleading at you.

“Kiss me, pretty boy,” you giggle. And he does, Bucky presses his warm, plump lips against yours. You’re moving your lips against him, causing him to hum and to pull you even closer. For a moment you both forget everything around you, feeling safe in one another’s embrace.

When you both pull away he makes his way to the door of the room. His expression changed from the soft he used to have all day into the cold one he is used to as winter soldier. You shiver lightly when you see his eyes so stormy with emotions — deep down behind the cold surface — his jaw only clenching and so cold, you wouldn’t know that there are feelings inside of him.

You get some utensils to look more serious and grasp his arm, he is holding it out so he can lead you through the floor. And that’s what you’re doing, he opens the door, his eyes focused on everything in front of you. But his arm holds your back, your grip tightens when you make a step out of the lab you’re in.

Your heart is racing, you’re sure he can hear and feel it but you try to stay as calm as possible. Bucky squeezes your arm with his hand lightly, then he walks further through the floor, slowly so you follow him. Your fingers are digging into his arm, the floor is almost empty but the few men looking at you are enough to let your nervousness grow.

“Soldier!” Someone says next to you and you immediately freeze. You swallow thickly, now they found out and they will brainwash Bucky, they will make him the winter soldier again. Bucky turns his head to the man who is talking to him, gaze cold and not a hint of emotions. “I want to fuck her when you’re finished.”

With a low laugh the man walks away. Your eyes widen when you look after him, Bucky’s expression still as cold as before. You both make your way further through the floor and when you finally see the door out of the base you feel your heart racing more and more.

Bucky turns his head around, looking through the floor when there is no one he smiles softly at you. You both reach the door just a moment later, he opens it and you slip outside, followed by him.

The cold air is surrounding you immediately and a shiver is running down your spine. Bucky grasps your hand, pulling you with him and into the woods as fast as he can.

It’s been a few weeks now, you’re living with Bucky in Romania, after you left the base behind you made your way through the forest until you reached the train station to go to Romania.

Bucky and you really fell for one another with every day making you love him more and more, his nightmares aren’t as bad as they were as long as you’re around and he smiles more often.

“Guess what I got?” He asks with a grin on his lips when he walks into your shared apartment. Bucky holds a paper bag in his hands and you chuckles softly.

"Plums? Maybe you should ask them out on a date,” you joke before you kiss your boyfriend softly. He shakes his head, opening the bag filled with plums but also your favorite fruits. “I love you, Buck. And I have a surprise for you too.”

Bucky wraps one of his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. “I love you too, doll. What’s the surprise? Did you buy a plum tree?”

You shake your head, laughing. Then you hold up a letter and a picture of someone. Bucky’s jaw drops; he almost drops the paper bag too.

“T—That’s Steve!” He mumbles, his eyes scanning the letter and the picture you’re holding in your hand. “H—He wants to visit us? Isn’t he mad that I didn’t recognize him? How did you manage—“

“Shhh. Bucky, let’s take a seat and I will answer all your questions. Or maybe Steve does,” you chuckle, feeling Bucky wrapping his arms even tighter around you while he kisses your neck softly.

“You’re the best, I love you so much, you know that. Do you? So in love with you, gonna make you the mommy of my child’s before Stevie’s here,” he says, almost jumping up and down, you love him, especially when he is excited and happy like that — and even more when you’re the reason for his happiness and joy, because he is yours.

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @lives-in-midgard @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @bucky-barnes-lover @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing

[forzalando]

💛 hi 🥹 CONGRATS ON 3K THAT'S HUUUUUGE !!!!

I am obsessed with this idea and also my favourite activity (as of recently lmao) is drunk karaoke and of COURSE my dream would be to do it with lando !!!!

drunk karaoke with Lando would, and i'm not exaggerating, mean everything to me. i am in love with just the idea of this.

thank you for supporting me through the many phases of this blog and for entertaining my every thought/idea. adore you, mel💛 i hope you enjoy this blurb that was meant to be 300-400 words but ended up being 800+ lol

celebration post: here

Drunk Karaoke with Lando Norris under the cut😊

You quickly downed the shot thrust into your hand – sambuca, which meant it absolutely came from Lando since he was the only one who knew of your preference.  

He was on your left, sweaty and somehow wide awake despite the fact you’d been out for hours. Oscar was on your right, slowly swaying to the music with his eyes half shut. Somewhere across the club Charles and Pierre were dancing on an elevated surface while George videotaped them like a suburban soccer mom at her son’s first game. Here in Monaco, everyone partied post-race as if they themselves had made it to the top step over the weekend.

Out of nowhere, Lando fell into you as he shouted in your ear – “Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

Oscar caught you before you could topple over, steadying you on your feet before shooting Lando a dirty look.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando giggled. He centered himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, looking the most serious you’d ever seen him. “Anyway, do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Win at Silverstone? Become world champion?”

“Well, yes, but think smaller, you lunatic. Something I could do right now.”

“Out drink Max?”

“What? No, I don’t care about outdrinking Max, where did that come from?”

“Well, I just thought since he usually wins every race that you’d want to beat him at something – ”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” Oscar interjected. “He wants to do drunk karaoke. When we went out in Miami he was practically on his knees begging me to sing with him.”

A giant grin spread across your face as you playfully swatted Lando’s chest.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I happen to be an excellent karaoke partner,” you boasted.

Lando clapped his hands and jumped around like a toddler at your remark – “So, you’ll do it with me?”

Instead of answering, you snatched his hand and pulled him through the club at an impressive speed. You weren’t in a karaoke bar, quite far from it, but you planted yourself in front of the DJ booth and gestured to Lando. Security immediately pulled you both into the booth, perks of having Lando at your side, and the DJ of the night asked what she could do for you.

“Hi! Lando Norris wants to do drunk karaoke and I’m trusting that you can make that happen. It’s very important to him,” you professed.

“I think I might have a couple instrumentals or could make some magic happen. Any specific requests? You won’t have any lyrics on screen, though. And you’ll have to share a mic.”

Before you could ask what your options were, Lando was shouting, once again, in your ear.

“DO YOU HAVE THE SPICE GIRLS? THAT ONE SPICE GIRLS SONG?”

“Lando, we won’t have the lyrics,” you reminded him.

“I don’t need them,” he declared, crossing his arms with attitude. “Maybe you need them, fake fan.”

“I most certainly do not,” you yelled back to Lando. “DJ, roll the track. Pretty please. You're amazing."

She chuckled and handed you the singular mic, Lando immediately snatching it from your hands.

“It’s my dream, I get to hold the mic.”

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile, stepping into his side as he threw an arm around you.

The deafening bass from the speakers grew quiet as the DJ addressed the crowd of people – “we’ve got a special surprise tonight! These two lovely friends of mine up here are going to perform a special number for everyone. Please welcome – ”

She paused, waiting for you and Lando to introduce yourselves.

“LANDO NORRIS AND Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Please welcome Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N to my booth. Show them some love!”

The clapping and cheering brought the volume in the club back to an obscene level – the loudest cheers coming from a VIP table not far from the booth where all of your friends had gathered.

Before you had a chance to feel the slightest bit self-conscious, the infamous laugh rang through the speakers and Lando was scream-singing into the mic.

 “YO, I’LL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT!”

The two of you in perfect sync, passing lines back and forth, singing (if you could call it that) in unison during the chorus. You could have sworn you heard George shout out that this was “his song” and Max was most definitely telling anyone who would listen that he personally knows Ginger Spice.  

You tore your eyes from the audience to look at Lando – the smile on his face rivaling the brightest sunny day. With his arm around you, squeezing you to his side, your closest friends cheering for you, your heart was sure to burst from happiness. There was no place you’d rather be in that moment than making a drunken fool of yourself with the most important person in your life by your side.

And if Lando was thinking the same thing, about how he was happier in that moment than he’d ever been, podiums and race win included, he’d keep that to himself for just a minute more.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I really love your writing 💖

Can I request fluff with Eddie Munson x reader?

He has a big crush on her, but he's very shy. Also, he has never been known for affection with his friends, so they rarely even hugged.

But one time at a party, the reader realized he's a big cuddler while he's drunk.

Some time later, Eddie would love to cuddle with her again but he's too shy, so he pretends to be drunk and giggly again. 😅

Can we get a happy end, please? 🙏

Thank you so much! And aww, this is such a cute idea!

shy!eddie x extroverted!fem!reader

cw: mention of alcohol, both reader and Eddie are drunk

It was no secret that Eddie had a huge crush on you. Even though he was very shy, the heart eyes that would form in his eyes when he looked at you were so obvious to everyone. Even you. And you liked Eddie too. How could you not? He was always so sweet and caring and never failed to know what you needed.

You wanted to tell him that you felt the same way, but you felt like you should have let him take the reins. You hoped that he would eventually be comfortable enough around you to tell you the truth, but you had been hanging around him for six months and nothing. He wouldn’t even touch you which you knew was because of his trust issues and you were willing to help him through it.

You showed up to Steve’s party with the sole intention of finding Eddie. He had told you he was going to be there which you found odd since he didn’t really care for being around that many people at once. You had no idea what that was like, but you sympathized.

You grabbed a drink for yourself and made a beeline for the curly mop. He paused mid conversation and pulled you in for a tight hug which caught you off guard since that was very abnormal for him. He arms wrapped around your waist tightly, burying his face into your neck.

Turned out that Eddie just needed a few drinks in him to be down to cuddle. He held onto you the whole night, his face buried in your neck while he occasionally pressed kisses to it. You loved seeing that side of him. The physically affectionate side of him that had no probably holding onto you tight.

Although, you felt bad that he felt like he needed to get drunk in order to hug you. You hoped that he knew that he could hug you whenever he wanted and didn’t need to drink to do so. You guys were friends and despite his nervousness around you sometimes, you hoped that he knew that you’d be there for him no matter what.

After the party, Eddie found himself pretending to be drunk just to get cuddles from you. At first, you played along, but over time, you were getting tired of the act. You were going to finally tell him how to felt to finally put a stop to the madness. You thought that maybe if he knew that you felt the same way, he’d stop.

You both were lying on your bed and Eddie was acting like a fool once again. He was all giggly and mumbling in gibberish which were the telltale signs that he was faking. Enough was enough.

You pulled him into your arms and he snuggled into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You ran your hand through his hair while pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I really like you,” you told him and he just snuggled further into you, letting out a contented sigh.

“I like you too.”

“No, Eddie,” you pulled his face away from your chest and forced him to look you in the eye. “I like you.” His eyes went wide and his mouth was agape at your words. He didn’t see that coming at all. “So you can stop pretending to be drunk just to cuddle me.”

“You knew about that huh?” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“I know everything,” you smiled. “So are you going to be my boyfriend or not?”

“Oh, I’m so going to be your boyfriend.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek then snuggled into your chest once again, the two of you falling asleep peacefully know that you were finally together after months of dreaming about it.

[daenysx]

hi angel! what about reader is best friends with aegon and she likes him but modern! aemond likes her. aemond always comforts her when aegon chooses to blow off their hangouts and then she slowly falls for aemond 😇

hi lovely, thank you for requesting! i liked this so much, i hope you enjoy too. requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, hurt/comfort ♡

aemond can't stand the wrinkle forming between your eyebrows whenever aegon disappoints you.

"sorry, aemond." you say, blushing hard on your cheeks. "i thought he'd be home, he didn't answer my texts."

his hands shake, he curls his fingers to relieve a bit of tension. "it's okay." he manages to say. "but i don't know where he is."

you look at your hands, biting your bottom lip like you do every time you are upset. aemond hates how he's unable to comfort you, how useless. you try to smile after a second, looking at him with big eyes as if you're trying to stop yourself from crying.

there's always a distance between you and aemond. "sorry for bothering you again." you say, giving him one of your easy smiles. "i'll just leave."

you take a step back. aemond would be damned if he let you go. "wait." he calls. "do you wanna come in?"

you look unsure. you probably think aemond only plays nice with you just because he feels guilty for his brother. the truth is far from it. aemond once saw you cry because of aegon, how your shoulders were shaking and your lips bitten raw. the image of your sad face haunts him, knowing how he'll never be the one you care about makes him wanna beat aegon. how dare he? who does he think he is? how can he have you as his best friend and not even bother to answer your texts when aemond is desperate for one smile from your lips?

"i took enough of your time." you say.

"no, i-" and now he can't even form a proper sentence. "please."

your eyes find his face. "you don't have to do it, aemond."

he doesn't know what you're talking about. "what?"

"you don't have to try to fix his mistakes." you say, somehow you look bolder and more upset, it shatters his heart.

"i'm not- i-"

"i appreciate the effort, i really do." you say. "you probably think how much of a fool i'm being by waiting for his text when he's out there hanging out with people i don't even know."

you stop, take a deep breath. that's when a teardrop rolls on your cheek. "i know it's stupid." you say. "i know he'll never look at me the way i look at him but i can't control how i feel. i- i just-"

your entire body is shaking as you start crying loudly. fuck. aemond's never been good with crying people but he'd burn down the entire world if he could stop your tears. he feels a protective wave in his chest, it's urging him to take the step to get you. you try to dry your tears, totally unable to calm down. you can't even look at aemond, how pathetic are you being right now? crying in front of your so-called best friend's baby brother. aemond should have better things to do other than listening to a girl cry over aegon.

"i'm so sorry." you say when you can finally breathe. "i'm not being fair to you. i'll just leave, you can-"

aemond snaps out of the trance. he rushes to you, his long arms are wrapped around your shoulders easily. you melt, starved for a comforting touch. he holds the back of your neck, fingers lightly wandering in your hair as he puts your head on his shoulder. you bury your face to his neck, wrap your arms around his waist. he smells nice. so nice like the rain or soft morning breeze.

aemond doesn't know how he'd wait so long to hug you. he closes his eye to the smell of your shampoo. his mind is clear like it never has been before. is this what holding you feels like? his skin is desperate for any contact, he's been starved for so long. he can get addicted to holding you easily, the possibility of never doing it again terrifies him. he loses his voice, he loses his patience.

you cry on his shoulder. he rubs a slow hand on your back, his lips tight on your head. he can feel the wetness of your tears on his skin, his fingers itch to dry them up.

you pull back, mortified. you look like you're gonna say sorry again but he can't have that. not again. you're not the person who should say sorry for having feelings or being brave enough to accept them.

"you're not being fair to me." he says. "you don't even know what you do to me."

he begs himself to shut up. he'll lose you. he'll lose the smallest contact with you if he keeps talking.

"i-" you start, still in his arms.

"no." he cuts your words. "it's not fair at all."

maybe people are right about the targaryen madness. nothing he does right now makes sense to him but he can't help himself. he just can't go on like this, not anymore. not when he got you in his arms.

"he- he doesn't deserve you." aemond says with a low voice. "but you know that, don't you? you've always been too clever for your own good."

"what can i do about that, aemond?" you whisper. "i'm trying to get over it. he's my best friend, do you see how fucked up this is?"

aemond shakes his head, his hand on your waist tightens. "trust me, i know about fucked up feelings. i know- i can understand how terrible you feel."

"and i didn't mean to be unfair to you." you continue. your tears dry on your cheeks. "i know you don't have to deal with this but you're nice enough to care about me. i won't disturb you again, i promise."

he takes a deep breath to stop himself from screaming. you're killing him. you don't even know.

"do you think the goodness in my heart is the reason for caring about you?" he asks, can't help gritting his teeth.

you look confused. he wants to kiss you so bad.

"you know what?" he backs off. "let's stop this- just forget i said anything."

he stops holding you, angry at himself for being a coward. he can feel the pins and needles on his hands, his shoulders are tense again.

"are you kidding me?" you ask, your voice is sad all over again. "why- why are you trying to mess with me? have i been that much of a bother to you?"

"stop!" he says loudly. you don't flinch, just stay on your spot with fresh tears on your eyes. aemond will not be the reason of your tears.

"stop saying that you're bothering me." he begs. "stop it- i can't take it anymore."

"then why?"

"because i'm in love with you." he says finally. "i've been in love with you for so long but you're not even aware of my existence when you're not asking for aegon! you think you're the only one with fucked up feelings?"

he kept everything to himself for so long, now that he starts he can't stop.

"you don't know what it's like to see you crying because of that prick. you don't know how i wished that it could be me- just for once let it be me who you care about. you don't know-"

he gets on his knees at the door to his apartment. his face pressed against his palms, staying vulnerable in front of you. he is so fucked. he half expects you to run away.

you are frozen on your feet. you always thought aemond was just being nice to you, all those times he offered you a cup of coffee and listened to you ramble about things. all the smiles he gave you, you were thinking he thought you are pathetic. you don't know what to think now.

it's like you're being controlled by someone else when you kneel beside him. your gentle hands pull his face to your shoulder just like he did minutes ago. you stroke his hair, nails scratching on his neck to give him a little peace. he holds onto you. you hold him back.

"i'm sorry." you say. "i'm so sorry, aemond."

"stop it." he says, finding his voice. "you are not guilty of my feelings."

"i wish i'd known before." you whisper. "i never meant to hurt you."

"don't- please don't run away from me." he pleads. "you don't have to see my face ever again but- i can't lose you."

you kiss his hairline just because it feels right. he feels right at that moment, your legs are numb on his doorstep and your fingers are quick to ease his worries.

"you're not losing me." you say. "i promise i won't leave."

aemond has never begged for anything in his life. wishing is different but begging would make him feel like a desperate man. he's too proud for it. he loses all his pride at your feet.

you cup his cheeks, looking at him through wet lashes. "it's not okay." you say. "it's not."

"i know you'll never feel the same for me." he says, words feel like poison on his lips. "and it's okay."

"there's nothing we can do." he replies. "you can't force yourself to love someone else."

you give him a broken smile. your finger draws a star on his cheek. "can we get inside?" you ask. "i think we need to talk about it properly and- we both need time."

"i don't want you to pity me." aemond says. "you don't have to do this."

"this is not pitying." you say. "i was going to the wrong direction before but- if you give me some time i can find my way."

even the hope of it makes him lightheaded. you are willing to talk about everything honestly with him, trying to give both of you a chance to be happy. you don't want to lose him, not when he feels so right in your arms. not when he holds you like he's protecting you from everything.

when you stand up to walk into the apartment, aemond holds your hand. you squeeze his fingers.

[finniestoncrane]

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1k giveaway commission: thank you @tearueful for letting me indulge in my subby little sadist side with their giveaway commission. cooper has reader all trussed up like a suckling pig and it's very difficult for him to see them as anything else 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: ropes, bondage, sadism, punishment, sub/dom dynamics, biting, knife play, biting/licking, mentions of wounds, blood, references to cannibalism

You knelt on the floor, back at an angle that let you rest your stomach and breasts against the floor, your cheek there too amidst the dirt and grime. You imagined this was part of it, the humiliation, the feeling that you were as low as dirt, nothing above it, not to Cooper at least.

The rope around your wrists burned the hardest. It was tight, too tight, and the sting tingled over your skin, a smarting pain that made you drool. As for your ankles, they were bound much looser, giving you range, the ability to spread your legs apart and expose yourself to him when he asked. But he had a lot more planned before that.

Cooper's boots were inches away from your face, his body looming over you as you looked up at him sideways from the floor. When your eyes met his he grinned, yellowed, aging teeth appearing slowly in a row as the corners of his mouth curled up cruelly.

"Now, this is your first rodeo, and I am a tough cowpoke. So I'll ask you again, darlin'."

He bent his knees, crouching next to you. A tip of his hat brim exposed his eyes, dark, but shining as he asked you once more.

"Are you sure you want me to give you the full Cooper Howard experience? Cos I can be a cruel, cruel man when I want to be. And I can assure you, that I almost always want to be."

You appreciated his concern. Honestly, you hadn't expected it from him, but it didn't dull the mood. If anything, it only sparked the fire inside of you, prodding at it, stoking it. He was offering you an out. He was there, in front of you, looking deep into your eyes and with all the sincerity he could muster, he was warning you.

He could ruin you. And he would try to. Were you sure that's what you wanted?

And it was.

So you nodded, enthusiastically, trying to keep yourself from smiling too much as you consented fervently to his abuse.

"Aw, just look at you, all trussed up and greedy, like a hungry little calf. Didn't even have to lasso you. No, this one just comes running for a punishment doesn't it?"

He kicked at your leg with the toe of his boot, knocking you off balance for a moment, chuckling as you wobbled.

"Yeah, Cooper... please... I'm so desperate."

Cooper was back down in a crouch, his hand quick under your chin as he grabbed it and pulled your face up, twisting your neck to an uncomfortable angle.

"Oh, I bet you are, little lady. Desperate and greedy. And so sweet about it too. I could just eat you up."

Sinking to his knees on the floor, his body collapsed onto you, pushing you harder into the ground, weighing you down, keeping you there, under his control. He placed soft, tentative kisses along your back, letting his tongue slip out, hanging over the corner of his mouth as he dragged it along your skin.

"You're ripe for the eatin', aren't you?"

Cooper's mouth travelled to your ass, kisses on the cheek closest to him.

"Thick, succulent rump..."

His teeth sank into your skin, rough, hard, enough that it made you squeal in response. He was firm in his grip, though, not letting up even when he felt you twitch against him, your body spasming from the sharp pain.

"What's wrong? You gonna put up a fight?"

You shook your head, biting your lip to stifle the soft sob that tried to come out, not wanting to put him off too much. When you managed to suppress the heavy breath, you told him what you wanted.

"No. No. I want this. I want you to hurt me."

"You want me to carve you up, huh? Slap you down on a plate and serve you up, hm?"

"Anything you want, Cooper."

He smacked your ass, sliding his knees back until he had sunk to the floor beside you on his stomach. With a steady hand, he unsheathed his knife, dragging the point of it up and down your thigh.

"I can't decide which bit of you I would eat first. Which part would be the nicest to have inside of me first, do you think?"

The tip of the knife sank into you, just enough that it created a small tear in your flesh, a small amount of blood emanating from it in tiny droplets. Stretching his neck out, Cooper pointed his tongue towards you, drool spilling from the edge as he pressed it to your skin, lapping at the metallic tang and groaning.

"You're gonna have me goin' feral, darlin'."

Around the wound, Cooper set his teeth, digging into you as he sucked the flesh into his mouth. Your skin prickled, a sharp sting from the cut as he tried to drink as much of your blood as would come out, tongue flitting over the slit as he moaned softly against your thigh. He pulled away with a loud pop, spittle coating you, falling to the floor, as he admired the reddening welt on your leg.

Your body trembled, your knees weakening in your state of arousal, feeling grateful that Cooper wanted you close, so close to him. Enough to ingest you, to have you completely. So much that you panicked when he moved away, standing up and walking around to your front. But your nerves settled as he hooked his fingers under your wrist restraints, pulling at them, tugging until you were kneeling before him.

Noticing the marking under the ropes, Cooper took his knife and cut through the restraints quickly, watching with pride as you kept your hands pressed together in front of you. He lifted one arm, slowly, grinning as he did so. Once it was at his face, he ran his tongue along the rope burn, tasting the heat of your wound.

He let it drop unceremoniously, smiling at you as he twirled the knife in his hand.

"Well, what's it gonna be? Where am I starting?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can’t help but admire the books balanced in your lap. You’re overly aware of another set of eyes on you as you once more trace the title with your fingertips, not wanting to touch too much but simply unable to resist. It can’t be real. All the books you ever had come from the Goodwill or your grandmother’s closet. 

Bucky leans into you, his proximity still sweltering to you. You glance over at him sheepishly as you grip the edges of the top book to hold them steady. 

“Thank you,” you babble again, probably for the ten dozenth time. 

“You like them, doll?” 

“Yes, very much,” you push your shoulders up bashfully. 

“See, doll, all I wanna see is you happy,” he intones, “you’re happy, aren’t you?” 

“Sure, yes,” you stammer, “thank you.” 

He chuckles, amused by your incessant thanks yous. He rubs your shoulder and grips it tight, pulling you closer. 

“So, I made you happy,” he shifts his body slightly against the seat belt, “how are you going to make me happy?” 

You blink and gulp, clutching the books tighter. You bite down as you stare at him. Oh. 

“Can I tell you how?” He brings his fingertips up to pet your chin, “promise, it’s not too much.” 

“Mm, okay,” you utter. 

He grins and presses his thumb against your chin, “a kiss? Just one.” 

You let out a wispy noise and barely keep the books from slipping away. What? You can't be entirely surprised, you have no illusions, well as little as you can have, about what he wants and yet it’s like you’ve been slammed into by a sixteen-wheeler. Your clamp your lips tight as your bat your eyes. 

He considers you and his lips straighten, his dimples pitting beneath his beard, “you don’t want to?” 

“Uh, no, it isn’t...” your bottom lip quivers and your voice quakes. “I just...” 

You shudder and look at his mouth then his neck. You can’t look him in the face. Your whole body is alight and your heart is throbbing. How do you tell him the one thing you’re terrified to ever admit to anyone, though you’re certain they can see it clear enough. 

“You just what?” His voice is grittier, deeper. It adds an extra beat to your heart. 

“I never...” your eyes wander away, “I never kissed anyone. I’m sorry. I’m just... nervous. So I... I don’t know if I would be good.” 

He hums and rubs your chin, turning your head to him. He moves his hand to cradle your entire jaw and your throat bobs once more. You can’t help but reach to his wrist, clasping around his silver watch as your other hand strains to keep hold of the books in your lap. 

“Why wouldn’t you be any good, doll? Those lips can’t be anything but delicious.” 

You squeak and squirm in the seat. A tingle flows up your spine and strangles you. Your lips open and close like a fish out of water, a fluttering breath escaping you. 

“Doll, close your eyes,” he says. 

You can’t argue. You can’t move. You can barely think. So you obey. 

You shut your eyes and feel the heat around you stir. You can sense him leaning in and you stiffen as his breath glosses over you. He tilts your head up as his lips brush yours, his beard tickling your skin, and he presses firmly against you. You squeeze your eyes tight as he hums again and you let out a surprised squeak as his tongue pokes against your mouth. 

He pulls back as the books fall out of your lap onto the floor. Your eyes flick open and you try to look down. He holds you in place and pushes you back against the seat. 

“Forget them,” he urges as his hand stretches across your neck, “and open your mouth, doll.” 

He leans in once more and you’re plastered against the seat by his weight and the seatbelt. His mouth covers yours again and you let your lips go slack as his tongue delves within. You let out a murmur around him and slap your hand against the suede as his hand moves under your ear, a perfect vee beneath your lobe. He groans as he keeps his tending firm but soft, drawing back with a nibble as he leaves your lips wet. 

You sit there, eyes closed, puffing and trembling. He caresses your chin and purrs, “how was it, doll? Everything you expected and more?” 

You force your eyes open and look at him, shrinking down as you reach for his arm and try to dislodge his hand, “wow... I...” 

He smirks, “been a while since I left a lady breathless.” 

“I’m... sorry.” 

“Sorry?” He drags his touch along your jawline, “for what?” 

“I... was I bad?” You ask. 

He once more looms over you and you brace yourself. He kisses your forehead and slowly retracts his arm, “you are too good, doll. If I don’t stop myself...” 

You look around, fluttering lashes, shaky hands, and slowly bend forward. You gather up the books and slowly sit back. You stare forward, stunned stupid as the feel of his lips lingers. It wasn’t bad, just new, a little bit scary. Just like his words. 

What would happen if he didn’t stop himself? Could you stop him? 

🃏

The car rolls through a gate topped with golden points. You peer up at the urban mansion. You’ve never been to this part of town. The towering homes and curated lawns make you feel tiny. More so than usual. 

You fumble to undo your seatbelt as Merv opens the door. You slide out ahead of Bucky and he trails after, his hand on your back as he guides you up the stone walk to the front door. He punches in a code into the keypad and lets you in ahead of him. 

As you enter, you smell maple and bacon. He stays close to you, directing you with a point over your shoulder. You enter a dining room, the large table only set for two. He takes the books from you and sets them aside on the corner table. You swallow tightly. 

“My personal chef should be about done,” he pulls out a chair and looks back at you expectantly. 

You scurry up and sit with a thank you. He tucks the chair in under you and takes the chair on the other side of the corner, still close. Before you can settle in, a woman appears with two stemmed glasses. She sets one down before each of you as Bucky nods in fleeting acknowledgement, though his blue eyes only twinkle in your direction. 

“Smells good,” you chew your lip nervously and his gaze follows the gesture. 

“Nothing but the best, doll,” he winks and sips from his glass. 

You do the same, surprised by the bubbliness. There’s a slight tang to the orange juice you don’t expect. He’s still watching you, seemingly amused by the play of emotions on your face. 

“What?” You give a brittle giggle. 

“You,” he says, “it’s a mimosa...” he leans forward, “still tryna figure out what you like.” 

“It’s nice. Sweet,” you look at the glass and take another drink. 

“Mm, maybe something strawberry next time,” he suggests. 

“Ooo,” you smile but stop yourself as you feel goofy. 

You blow out between your lips, trying to expel the tension as his eyes stay stuck to you. His attention is flattering but no less intimidating. You were never one to be in the spot light. You peer around the room, admiring the modern but elegant decor. 

“Your house is so nice,” you rub your hands together nervously. “Must be nice living here...” 

“Eh, bit empty but not bad,” he says, “lonely.” 

“Oh,” you turn back to him. 

“Doll,” he pinches the stem of the glass, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. I know I got a reputation, you probably read all about it online. But I’m a changed man... or trying to change.” 

You lower your brow in confusion. It’s strange to have anyone, let alone him, explain themselves to you. 

“You know, I was with a certain type for a long time but... nothing serious. No one like you.” 

Oh, you know. Why would he be with someone like you? You don’t dare to ask the question. 

“It’s... okay,” you stammer. 

“I don’t know any other way to do this,” he sits back and pushes his hair away from his face, “I’m taking it slow but...” his chest rises and he exhales heavily, “I hope you know how into you I am.” 

Your cheeks sting hotly and you can’t help but touch them. You avert your eyes, looking down, then cross your arms across your chest. You look at him and shrug. 

“Why?” 

He narrows his eyes and brushes his fingers along the trim of his beard. He puckers his lips thoughtfully. 

“I didn’t know until I saw you,” he drops his hand, resting it against the table. “I don’t know, you just looked... sweet. A bit lost. But I meant what I said, the skirt was cute. Kinda hoped you’d wear it today.” 

“Oh?” You let out apologetically. 

“That’s okay, doll, wishful thinking,” he says, “can’t have everything I want at once. I’m learning that.” He sits forward, “you’re teaching me how.” 

“I am?” 

“Sure you are,” he smirks, “waiting on you, aren’t I?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you twiddle your fingers nervously. 

Before it can grow awkward, the same woman returns. She has a tray in her hands, large and spread with serving dishes. She leans it on the table and lays it all out; bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, french toast, waffles, pancakes. Everything you could dream of for a perfect breakfast buffet. 

Your stomach grumbles loudly and Bucky tilts his head coyly. Did he hear that? You wait until the woman leaves to reach for your fork and knife, mirroring him as he does the same. He uses the tongs to put some bacon on his plate and offers you some. You take only one, it usually makes your stomach hurt. 

“You’ll be waiting on me tomorrow,” he says, as he continues to serve himself. Each time, he adds some to your plate as well.  

“I will?” 

“Probably a long day for me. You’re gonna have to get into the night shift, doll,” he explains. “Business and all that tripe. I’d rather have you by my side later anyhow. I’m not much of a morning person. Besides, I’ll need something pretty on my arm at the casino.” 

“Casino?” You echo. 

“Sure thing, doll. I gotta keep a watch over what’s mine,” he insists. 

“Right, er...” you look at your plate.  

The idea of stepping back into the casino makes your insides jelly. It’s so crowded and bright and busy. And with him, the one person everyone will be watching. At least there are no cameras permitted on the floor. 

“Just stick close,” he says, “shouldn’t be hard. I won’t let you get very far.” 

He chuckles and you poke at the scrambled eggs. What do you wear? What do you do? Just follow him around like a duckling? 

The woman returns, plaintive as she stands in the doorway. You glance over at her but Bucky keeps his attention on his food. 

“Thea?” He calls to her. 

“Sir, a package,” she declares. 

“Ah, yes, bring it in,” he demands and bites into a sausage. 

He chews and you opt to turn your focus to the growling in your stomach. You may as well enjoy what you can and you’ve never been shy of a good meal. You pour syrup onto the waffle and dust some icing sugar over it. He’s watching you, you peek up briefly to confirm it. You make your bites small and tidy. You wilt beneath his constant surveillance. 

The woman, Thea, returns. Bucky waves her over as she carries a white box. He drops his fork and stands. You hover your cutlery over the plate and watch as he dismisses her with a curt nod. 

“Please, enjoy,” he insists as he sets the box on the other side of the array of food. 

You stick to your conservative progress, curiously watching him as he pops open the lid of the box. He looks inside and smiles. He goes back to his seat to retrieve his napkin and wipes his hands. 

“How do you like them?” He pulls out a shirt, the edges scalloped around the bottom and neck, little purple hearts speckled all over. 

“Pajamas?” You wonder aloud. 

“Thought they’d be cute,” he smiles and drapes the shirt over the back of the chair in front of them, revealing the matching shorts. “You can take some pictures for me tonight.” 

You nearly choke. You tried to forget that picture. Both of them. His and yours. Right then, you can only think of him in the towel. 

“I’ll have it packed up with the books for you to take,” he puts the pajamas back in the box and closes the lid. “Let’s finish our food.” 

“Uh, okay, thank you,” you stammer. 

“Doll, it’s all just beginning,” he sits and reaches for his mimosa, holding it out. You take yours and he clinks your glass. “Here’s to us.”

[shipmansflannels]

in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

hey! I'm back! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, really. but I'm happy with the engagement and the new followers here on the blog, welcome everyone and I hope you like my stories below. I haven't made the masterlist yet, but as soon as I do, I'll pin it to organize it better. this first oneshot is super cute, I hope you like it. I'm also not going to open requests for now, but I'll leave my ask open in case you want to send me messages and interact through it too! thanks for following along! enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

-> prompt: you and natalie at a ferris wheel. but it gets stuck. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, natalie having a soft side, a lot of swear words, very cliché and gay.

***

"I already told you I don't want to go. That's for children."

You laugh, watching Natalie blow out the last of her cigarette and use her worn-out sneakers to crush it on the floor. The two of you are leaning against a street light, but you're more focused on the popcorn that's almost gone and the noise of the kids screaming behind you, enjoying the huge roller coaster, or the carousel, or yelling for their mom to buy more tokens to hit the clown's mouth and win a damn stuffed bear.

It's your last year before heading off to college, but you're not old enough to enjoy the rare amusement park event when the mayor is in a good mood, which is why you make a point of not only inviting Natalie, but the rest of the girls on the team.

The difference is that you're not as close to them as you are to the platinum blonde who's snorting as she's being bumped into by a four-foot-tall boy who's running after another boy whose height you haven't yet identified.

"Oh, please, it's just going to be a single ride. I really want to see the city from up there", you insist, using your best whining voice, to try to convince Natalie to join you on the ferris wheel. She rolls her eyes as you shove another handful of popcorn into your mouth. "Then we can go on the ghost train, since you want to be that frightened."

"You know I hate the ferris wheel, (Y\N), no way."

Natalie was always closed off about her feelings and desires - and unless it had to do with addictions, cigarettes and drugs, you'd never guess any of the things she was passionate about. Of course, you knew about her problems with her father, her terrible relationship with her mother and how much she wanted to buy a trailer in the park closest to her school so she wouldn't have to live with this nightmare again, but otherwise, none of Natalie's fears were obvious to you.

So it was fun to hear her complain, in her usual grumpy mood, about how she hated rides on the ferris wheel.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried once more. "One ride, I promise. I'll give you one of my cigarettes later, don't worry."

Natalie huffed again, rolling her eyes at you, and put her lighter in the pocket of her old moss green jacket before walking over to you.

"Just a ride and then it's over. It's not a question."

You nodded, shrugging and swallowing hard, before starting to walk beside her. Oh, one more thing about Natalie that you knew since you met her: she hated holding hands.

***

"I swear I'm going to kill you. It seems like a good thing to push you from the highest point, don't you think?"

Natalie proposed, whispering through clenched teeth as the ferris wheel monitor buckled you up and closed the cabin. There was a noise in the background, coming from other laughing children and families in the cabins behind, so Natalie had to get a little closer to you to whisper in your direction.

"Ah, come on, it's going to be fun!", you murmured, in your usual joy, looking to the side and enjoying the view of the park before the ride started to rise. "But if you feel unwell, I can ask the monitor to stop first and come down."

"It is not necessary."

She murmured, taking a deep breath, and you felt like there was too much air gathering in Natalie's lungs. With your free arm, you passed it over the cabin, around the platinum blonde, in an attempt to comfort her. It didn't help, but you were sure you saw her lined eyes relax a little.

And then, the ride began. The families behind you screamed loudly when the cabins started to rise a little, and then they started laughing when theirs stopped in the air and slowly descended, giving a good view of the city from up there.

You looked away again at the huge windows and the landscape, even though you weren't so high up. It felt good to reassure Natalie at that moment, her fear feeling like it was going to leave her body and hover like a cloud of dust above your heads.

"Are you okay?"

"Absolutely."

You laughed, making a mental note and finding it amusing that Natalie always used colloquial language when she was scared. Suddenly, she looked down, and her clear eyes widened again.

"Holy shit! Why are there two guys down there? And why does it look like they're arguing? Oh, God, don't tell me we-"

You looked down, just to see where she was looking, and then, suddenly, the voices of the families became clearer, as if they purposefully escaped from the windows of the cabins straight into yours. "we're stuck!" "it looks like the toy broke!" "damn, bunch of irresponsible people!" "I want my fucking money back!" "get that fucking toy down soon, buddy!"

Gritting your teeth, you looked at Natalie, and you were sure that she had heard at least half of the whispers, or, well, at best - and probably the most terrible - she had enough intelligence to figure out what had just happened on her own. to happen.

"Fuck me," she muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Once, twice, three times. And then, you grabbed her with your free arm by the collar of her shirt, the back collar.

"Calm down, it's just a quick stop, it's supposed to give more excitement. Soon the ferris wheel comes back, just try to breathe", you whispered, and obviously it didn't help at all.

"I'm not five anymore, (Y\N). Don't act like you're my fucking parents."

"Hey, don't freak out, it won't help…", you clicked your tongue. "Well, how about if we just try to distract ourselves while the toy doesn't come back? Make small talk? There are some things going on that you haven't told me yet, right?"

You don't know how this caught Natalie's attention, but you saw that her face had returned to its usual paleness, and that she had raised an eyebrow in your direction.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, the most obvious. You and Travis Martinez, what else?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not what you think. He's just my friend. Just like you are too."

Ouch, that one hurt. It would have affected you more, of course, if you had even had feelings for Natalie, but obviously you had nothing more than a friendly affection for her, and in truth, her and Travis' sudden closeness wasn't bothering you in the slightest. in an unhealthy way…

Absolutely not. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just friends? Oh, sure, like, okay then…" You took another deep breath, and then blushed when you saw her raised eyebrow again. "It's just, like, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would hang out with our gang…"

"You mean he doesn't look like a rebellious kid?" Natalie scoffed, biting her lip and looking away from you. "Yeah, I mean, you'd be surprised by some things about him."

"And how come you know so much, huh?"

She pursed her lips. You had used an intonation that definitely wasn't as ironic as you thought it would be, and in fact, maybe that would have surprised Natalie. You were about to open your mouth to apologize, when she spoke first, her eyes fixed on you and that cheeky smile that only she knew how to give.

"Damn, I didn't know you were that possessive, (Y\N)…"

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

"And I'm not. I don't give a shit about your circle of friends, okay?"

"It's not what it looks like…"

"Okay, let's change the subject…", you pursed your lips too, looking away. "Did you buy the hair dye? Your roots are turning black again…"

She nodded, but that sleazy smile was still on her lips as she looked the other way. In fact, it only disappeared when she realized that you guys weren't coming back down, and that it would probably take hours to do so.

"This shit's never going down again, is it? What the fuck…"

You laughed, looking at her again and shaking your head. "You know, if you're so scared, you can hold my hand. I won't bite you unless you ask me to."

Natalie rolled her eyes again, looking at you with closed eyes. She hated vulnerability, especially when it was her own. Her hand slid across the space in the seat that separated the two of you in the cabin, and then, her fingers caught yours, lightly, as if they were magnets attracting each other.

"If you tell anyone tomorrow, I'll kill you," she whispered, her teeth clenched and her gaze still very serious. That made you laugh and eased the blush on your cheeks a little.

Suddenly, like an answer to her silent prayer, the cabin gave a sharp start and threatened to descend. This caused Natalie's already trembling and vulnerable body, barely secured in the seat belt, to fall until it reached your arms. You held her just in case, but she made sure to lean on your waist to straighten herself up again.

"Oh, God, I think I'm going to throw up," she murmured, returning to the fear inside her. You watched her and, in a rush, had an idea that might help. Well, it helped you with your now rare panic attacks before a decisive test in class.

Instinctively, you grabbed her cheek, pressing your faces together at a considerable distance. Her eyes were on you, but specifically at the level of your nose, and she seemed shocked by your unexpected attitude.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, she whispered, her lips barely moving.

"I'm trying to take your focus away. Pay attention to other things, don't fucking look down," you replied, your tone as neutral as possible, your eyes focused on her. But your closeness was incredibly suspicious and, even if you denied it, it took away some of the attention that should have been hers. Clearing your throat, you whispered again. "Do you feel better?"

Natalie didn't answered. She closed her clear eyes and took another deep breath, swallowing hard. And then, her pale, calloused hands touched your shoulder. At first, it seemed like an attempt to push you away, but then, suddenly, when she unexpectedly pressed your lips together, you understood everything.

Responding to the kiss as best you could, terrified that it would be clumsy, you let your mind wander to the darkest parts, and you also understood that you always wanted, deep down, for this moment to happen. And then, after minutes of the wind in your hair and your body getting hot with the blood bubbling almost to your head, Natalie finally did what she normally would do, using the grip on your shoulders to pull you away from her.

"Fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, trying to apologize. And suddenly, she fixed it. "I mean, maybe it was, but not like this. I guess I was just a little… too vulnerable, my bad."

You laughed, blushing once more before holding her hand again, this time placing your palm on hers.

"It's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. You look cute with that soft side," you whispered, nodding. "Well, not like that…"

"Don't be stupid, of course it's like that," she murmured, raising her eyebrow. "Okay, I'm not going to punch you in the face because you kissed me and because you have feelings for me."

"For the record, you were the one who kissed me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, fuck. Nobody cares."

Suddenly, the ferris wheel gave another start and, finally, with the screams of satisfaction from all the families who were still waiting up there, it started working normally again. Natalie sighed, still holding your hand in hers, and you smiled, relieved, looking away.

"Just promise me one thing, (Y\N)?"

"Anything, Nat."

"That you won't tell anyone that we kissed-"

"That you kissed me."

"Whatever! Don't tell anyone, do you hear me? Or I'll change my mind and punch you in the face, yes."

You laughed before pulling her closer with your free hand, by her chin, and kissing her once more. "Don't worry. It'll just be our little secret for now."

[moonstruckme]

james x shy!reader first time?🤭🤭🤭🤭

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mndi

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 908 words

James almost feels bad about the mark he’s surely leaving on your tit, but your hands are encouraging on his back and he’s yet to learn how to deny you anything you want. 

He can feel your heartbeat in his mouth as he sucks and teases your skin. It speeds up when he lets his teeth scrape lightly. Your breathing falters. 

James can’t help himself; he grins. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Don’t be shy, angel, let me know what’s good, yeah?” 

Your reply comes soft and surprisingly teasing. “I think you already know.” 

A little laugh startles out of him, and he looks up in time to see your small smile. That smile is going to get James in trouble. 

“How’re you feeling, baby?” He runs his palms up and down your sides comfortingly. Your top half is bare, your shirt balled up and tossed into the hamper, but you’re still in your pants. “Are you ready?” 

You rub your lips together, showing your nerves. “Yeah.” You nod. James kisses you softly to try and settle you. “I’m ready.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” You nod again, looking a bit more sure this time. He smiles at you. “Can I take these off?” 

You hum. “Please,” you say, lifting your head and reaching for the button of your pants. 

James bats your hands away, nipping playfully at the underside of your jaw as he undoes them himself and then easing them down over the curve of your hips. You sit up on your elbows to watch him. Underneath, you’ve got on a pair of underwear that’s prettier than anything James has ever seen (present company excluded). He can’t take his eyes off them as he tugs your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Sweetheart.” James is delighted. “Did you wear these for me?” 

You look like you’re contemplating smothering yourself with your pillow. “Yeah,” you murmur, not looking at him.

He plants a heavy, smacking kiss on your cheek. It’s burning hot under his lips. “You’re fucking adorable,” he says, running a finger over the waistband. “I almost don’t want to take them off.” 

“Please do,” you say in a hurry. 

Something frightening close to a giggle bubbles up in James’ chest. He’s continually surprised by your bouts of boldness. 

“Whatever you say, angel.” He gets his fingers under the pretty fabric, and they join the rest of your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s not the first time you’ve been exposed to him like this, but you never seem to get used to it. James can hardly blame you; he hasn’t either. He stares openly while you cover your face with your arms, taking one of your thighs in each hand and easing them open. 

“My shy girl, all ready for me,” he coos, dragging two fingers through your slickened folds. “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself, baby, you look so pretty. Probably won’t take long at all to get you ready for me, huh?” 

He looks up, but you’re still hiding under your arms. 

When no response comes, he hums, “Or, maybe I could take my time—” 

“Jamie.” Your voice is quiet and frail, directed towards the ceiling like a prayer. “Please.” 

“Okay.” He laughs, hands moving back up you until they’re clasped around your wrists. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t play with you too much, just don’t hide from me, please?” 

James gives only the slightest tug, but you move your arms of your own volition, peering up at him warily. 

“Good girl, thank you.” He rewards you with a kiss, his hand sneaking back down between your legs. 

Your lips part in a silent gasp as his thick fingers broach your entrance, and James slips his tongue into your mouth, cock aching at the tightness of you. His other hand finds your tit. Your gummy walls constrict on his digits, and he swallows a groan. 

“Fuck, angel.” He slips in a third finger, the fit easy when you’re already so worked up. “S’like you’re sucking me in.” 

Your head falls back against the pillows, but James doesn’t hold your lack of reply against you. He finger fucks you deep and slow, curling his digits every now and again in search of that sensitive spot on your front wall. Your cunt is weeping now, wetness slipping out of you and pooling on the sheets. 

When James sets his lips to your clit, you make the sort of breathy, desperate sound he knows will echo in his dreams for the next week. 

One of your hands burrows in his hair. He spurs you on by bullying the small bead, licking and sucking until he can feel that telltale trembling of your thighs. He lifts his head, and you look relieved. 

“I’m ready,” you say through soft pants, braver now that James has wound you up so tightly. “I think I can take—” 

You cut yourself off as he spreads his fingers inside you, testing the fit and hoping to numb you out in the process. 

“Sorry, angel,” he says. “That feel okay?” 

“Yes.” You nod, urgent. “Yeah, Jamie, can you—can you please—” 

James placates you with a soft kiss to your jaw, soothing his slick-soaked hand over your hip as he undoes his pants with the other. 

“Someday,” he promises, “we’re gonna find out what happens when you don’t get your way. But for now I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

[otomehoneyybearr]

The Day I Made a Friend

Book of Memories Chapter 1

Keith & Kagari

Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | My First Dorayaki

In the radiant sunlight pouring down, Keith encounters a man in a town adorned with flowers

Keith: “Kagari?”

Kagari: “You’re in town too?”

Keith: “Yeah, I came to buy dorayaki since you’re coming to the castle.”

Keith: "The scheduled meeting won’t start for a while, yet you're already here in Jade."

Kagari: "Yep."

Keith: "...Another troublesome matter?"

Kagari: "Our plans tend to overlap pretty often."

Keith: "...Come to think of it, it WAS you who requested to have the meeting and practice today."

Keith: “Could it be that you originally needed to come to Jade for a troublesome matter,

Keith: “But arranged a meeting with me as camouflage to avoid another scolding...?”

Kagari: “As expected of a bookworm like you. Your imagination is impressive, Keith.”

Kagari: “But more importantly, I see the dorayaki shop.”

Keith: "Huh? Oh, you're right. Thank goodness they haven’t sold out yet."

The two men stop in front of a stall with a sign that says "DORAYAKI."

The sales seem to be going well, with only two left.

Keith: “Looks like there’s only butter and matcha. Which one do you want, Kagari?”

Kagari: “Either one is fine. Which do you prefer?”

Keith: “...They both look delicious.”

Kagari: “So, you’re indecisive.”

Keith: “You sound just like Liam.”

Kagari: “Liam? Oh, your surly butler.”

Keith: “Surly? He's sincere and meticulous in his work. He's an exceptional butler who's too good for someone like me.”

Kagari: “As usual, you're spot on when it comes to assessing others.”

Kagari: “So, have you decided?”

Keith: ….

Keith didn't respond, and as if on cue, the two of them silently extended one hand forward.

Then they lightly shook their hands in place. At the same time, Keith opened his hand while Kagari made a fist.

Keith & Kagari:

"Oh, I won again."

"I lost."

Did they really just play rock, paper, scissors?

Keith: ".........."

Kagari: "So which one? If you don't decide quickly, someone else will buy it."

After glancing at Kagari, Keith pointed to one of the dorayaki.

Keith: "I guess I’ll have butter."

Kagari: "Then I'll take the matcha."

Kagari: "Shopkeeper, two dorayaki, please."

Keith: "Oh, Kagari, let me pay for them."

Kagari: "It's fine, consider it an apology."

Keith: "......So the real reason you came to Jade was because of some trouble, after all."

Kagari: "Relax, I didn't kill anyone. I just taught them a lesson."

Keith: "When you say 'teach a lesson,' it usually means more than a light injury... Is the other person alright?"

Kagari: "Focus on the dorayaki. They're still slightly warm."

Keith: "Wow, Kagari, you're eating it already.”

Keith: "I was planning to save this for after our meeting, but since it's still warm, I guess I'll eat it now. Thanks.

Keith accepted the dorayaki with its faint buttery aroma and took a bite.

Keith: "Mmm, it's so nice and fluffy when it’s warm. Maybe I'll come by for a freshly made one next time."

Kagari: "Thanks for the meal."

Keith: "You already finished!? Did you chew it properly?"

Kagari: "Do you think I'm a child or something? I chewed it and savored it."

Kagari: "The matcha was delicious too. A dorayaki shop with no misses is rare in other countries."

Keith: "Your love for dorayaki hasn't changed since we met."

Kagari: "Back then, I didn't particularly like or dislike it. Actually, I..."

Keith: "?"

Kagari: "--Just thought you'd cry if I refused."

Kagari: "You were such a crybaby."

Keith: "I wouldn't have cried just because you refused."

Kagari: "But it's true that you were a crybaby. You often teared up in front of me."

Keith: "T-That was half crying... Though it is true that I showed you countless embarrassing moments."

Keith: "Looking back on it, my life is full of embarrassing moments... It's painful to even think about."

Kagari: "Think of it as proof that you struggled, and your heart will feel a bit lighter."

Kagari: "Though, I admit, the training back then might have been overkill."

Keith: "You nearly killed me multiple times, Kagari."

●●●●●●●● Flashback●●●●●●●●

Jade and Kōgyoku—

Although the countries situations were completely different, they’d maintained friendly relations up to the present.

"Couldn't that demon train this failure?"

It was such words from the King of Jade that led to the meeting of young Keith and Kagari.

Kagari: "Stabbing, beating, strangling, poisoning—Keith, which one do you prefer? Or are you good at any of them?"

Keith: "....Um,"

Keith: "I don't particularly like nor excel at any of them."

Kagari: “….”

Kagari: “….I see…”

Keith: “….Yeah…”

Keith & Kagari: “…”

Keith & Kagari: “……..…”

Keith's face showed visible confusion, while Kagari remained expressionless like a Noh mask.

As another moment of silence stretched on for the umpteenth time, surprisingly, it was Keith who spoke up.

Keith: "Um... I'm Keith Howell, the First Prince of Jade."

Kagari: "……………Second Prince of Ruby. Kagari Amagase."

Keith: "Thank you for agreeing to train me, Sir.

Kagari: "........Sir?"

Keith: "I am weak and useless, weaker than even weeds, but—"

Keith: "As an older brother and a member of the royal family, I want to become stronger."

Keith: "So, um, please take care of me!"

Keith bowed his head so forcefully it seemed like a gust of wind might arise, causing Kagari to take a slight step back.

His expression remained unchanged. However, the hands clasped behind his back repeatedly clenched and released, as if deep in thought...

Kagari: "…………"

Keith: "Um...?"

Kagari deftly picked up a practice sword with his foot and pointed its tip at Keith.

Kagari: "First, a warm-up. Ready your sword."

Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[coloursflyaway]

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 18.000

Read on AO3

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Tags for everyone who wanted one ♥: @that-ineffable-devil @mentally-unstable-fangirl @tipsyscone @butternutsquashthesenutz @makemeimmortalwithahug @mylu @imineffible @fabledshadow @asherxme @twopercentboy

„Now, I think this concludes our business“, Edwin says and fixes his bow-tie, the collar of his shirt. His lips feel strange, now that they have tasted their first kiss (and their second, and third, and fourth, and…, his treacherous mind corrects him), but this was a small price to pay for safe passage out of this godforsaken town. “So, could you please transport me back to my friend?”

The creature in question unfurls his body from the sofa they were lounging on for the transaction, and even if Edwin cannot find much that is good about this situation, the Cat King at least has been rather civil about it all, no matter his unconventional request for payment.

Even now, he walks closer and there is a smirk on his lips.

Lips, Edwin does not want to look at, because he knows how they feel and knows that they felt right in one, and terrifyingly wrong in all other ways.

“If you insist”, the Cat King drawls, and brushes two fingers across Edwin’s shoulders. “I can take you back to your little friend. But you’re also more than welcome to stay a little longer…”

“No, thank you”, Edwin cuts him off before he can continue, because he needs to get back to Charles, and as soon as possible, too. “As far as I can tell, you have been made quite happy, so I consider my debt repaid and would very much like to return where I belong.”

And the Cat King looks at him like he knows something he won’t tell Edwin yet, and snaps his fingers, and the world changes.

Edwin disappears in front of their eyes, and Charles forces down the spark of panic that comes with that.

The Cat King wanted to talk and Edwin can handle it, of course he can. Even if Charles would have liked it much better if he could have done it within his sight.

The warehouse looks different when it reappears.

Edwin needs a moment to make sense of it, but then his gaze gets stuck on the scratches on the walls, the splintered wood and bent metal, the wrecked throne and the hole in the floor that looks like someone dug it with their bare hands, blood streaked across the grey concrete.

It looks like a crime scene, like a war had been waged inside of it, and then Edwin’s eyes find Charles’ form in the middle of the broken up ground.

He’s sunken on the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his coat torn to shreds, his white socks stained, and his hair a matted mess of curls. Bits of concrete are stuck in there, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice, like he doesn’t seem to notice anything else around him, and it scares Edwin more than anything ever has before.

Before he knows it, he is moving, gasping out Charles’ name, and for a terrible, terrifying second, Charles does not react. He just sits there, motionless, like he is stuck in limbo; then he looks up, slowly, like he is moving through molasses, and somehow, it’s worse.

There is no life left in his eyes.

Usually, they shine brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with every emotion Charles is feeling, but now their light is dimmed until it has all but gone out, their brown not warm and inviting anymore, but flat.

A sound tumbles from Edwin’s lips, although he cannot quite make out what kind, something between a sob and a plea and a prayer, and Edwin is about to drop to his knees in front of him, when Charles propels himself upwards and flings himself into Edwin with a force that knocks them both to the ground.

If he was still breathing, the impact would force the air out of Edwin’s lungs, but he is certain that even then, he wouldn’t realise it, because Charles is holding him so tightly it compresses his non-existent ribs, like he has been hurt, like he had thought Edwin was.

And he’s crying.

It’s the kind of crying Edwin hasn’t experienced before, but something which he understands anyway; it’s the kind of crying he would hear in hell, seeping through the cracks of his doll house, the kind he would see much later when he was escaping.

It’s crying without any kind of restraint because there is no strength left to fight it, the kind of crying that comes from desperation so deep it captures your entire soul, and forces anything else into meaninglessness.

Edwin has never cried like this before, and he swears right then and there that he will find and butcher whoever did this to Charles.

Three hours have passed and Edwin isn’t yet back.

Charles is doing his very best to keep calm, but it is so, so difficult when the only thing those damned cats are willing to say is, sometimes the King likes to keep them for a while.

What is a while?, Charles had asked, but there had been nothing but a self-satisfied meow, which most likely just means that the cats know about as much as Charles does.

Which is not reassuring, but in the end, it will be fine.

Edwin might not know how to fight, but he’s clever and he’s brave and he would never leave Charles alone.

“Shh, it’s alright”, he is whispering into Charles’ curls, trying to soothe him even though it doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Charles is crying like the world has ended, his sobs so violent they make Edwin’s chest seize up, his fingers grabbing and pulling at Edwin’s clothes like he wants to sink into him and fuse their bodies together.

And Edwin might not know how to fix this, but he’ll damn himself to Hell if he lets go.

He’s about to try and change their position in hopes of making Charles more comfortable, when there is a thud and the sound of splashing liquid behind them.

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there’s more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

Edwin has been gone for a day and a half and Charles is going insane.

He knows he’s going insane, but that doesn’t change anything, because Edwin has been gone for a day and a half, and they have never been apart for this long since they met.

“I swear to God, if you don’t bring him back, like, this instant, I’m going to start breaking things”, he tells one of the cats that have come to watch them; it’s not an effective threat because Charles has been saying this for at least six hours, but he cannot stop himself, because he feels like breaking things.

He feels like he needs to break things, and that scares him, but what scares him much, much more is that Edwin isn’t here, and he has been gone for a day and a half, and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

“Sure thing, lover boy”, one of the cats replies, and Charles shouldn’t, but he screams.

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Charles’ sobs, his heaving breaths.

“What do you mean, I have been gone for six weeks?”, Edwin finally asks, dread of a previously unknown type and magnitude filling him with every tear Charles is crying into his suit.

“What do you think I mean? I mean, six weeks, you have been gone for six weeks, and we have been looking all over for you and this one”, she gestures to Charles, “has taken the entire town apart because he was so convinced that he would have to dig you out of Hell with his own bare hands. That’s what I mean with you have been gone for six weeks.”

And she looks down at Charles who is shaking in Edwin’s arms, and there is tenderness and true affection in her eyes, which vanishes as soon as her gaze returns to Edwin.

“So, like. Good to have you back, but also, what the fuck, how could you do this to him?”

It’s been two days since Edwin was whisked away by that absolute prick of a Cat King and Charles is losing his mind. Whatever he thought before about going insane was nothing, nothing at all, because this is so much worse.

Crystal, bless her, has been trying to calm him down, but there is only so much she can do, which is nothing at all, because Edwin is gone and no one will fucking talk to Charles and tell him what is going on.

So, he is pacing, because he cannot start smashing things up, even if he wants to.

Not because of any consideration Charles has for the Cat King or his kingdom or his subjects, but because Edwin will come back and he will have solved everything, and he will be so cross with him if Charles starts smashing things up.

So, instead, he paces, and thinks about how he’ll hug Edwin once he’s back, no matter if Edwin wants him to or not, and how he won’t let him out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

Six weeks.

The words shatter something within Edwin that he didn’t know existed, tear him down until he’s not sure if he’s still the same person as he was before.

Because Charles is crying in his arms like he watched the world end, and suddenly Edwin doesn’t just understand the emotion there, but feels it deeply, viscerally.

If Charles had been gone for six weeks, he would be tearing the world apart with his bare hands to get him back.

And suddenly, every one of Charles’ sobs is an open wound, every trembling grasping of his fingers a broken bone, every time he breathes in, wet and desperate and painful, is a death he dies, because Edwin is the one who caused this.

Edwin, who was gone for six weeks without knowing, who has left the most important person in his life to suffer without him; Edwin, who can’t do anything but hug Charles tighter, and pray to whatever god will hear him that Charles will be able to forgive him.

It’s been three days and Charles doesn’t care anymore.

He has told Crystal as much, after she had dragged him out on a coffee run, insisting that he cannot spend his entire time in that godforsaken warehouse. Which she is wrong about, he realises as soon as he has stepped outside, because Edwin could come back any second and Charles would not be there to take care of him after whatever this Cat King has been putting him through.

At first, the Cat King hadn’t seemed too bad, not dangerous, more annoying, but apparently Charles had been wrong because Edwin isn’t here, and there is no way Edwin would leave Charles alone for this long, especially because he must know how worried Charles is by now.

So, the only explanation is that the Cat King must be keeping Edwin from leaving somehow and Charles will not allow it.

He should have gone with him right away, shouldn’t have let Edwin out of his sight, will never do so again.

So, he lets Crystal get the coffee she wants, but ignores her looks when he brandishes his cricket bat even before they walk into the warehouse. Maybe he is overreacting, because it has only been three days, but at the same moment, Charles knows he isn’t, because maybe for other people, spending three days away from their best friend is just part of everyday life, but it isn’t for them.

Charles is used to looking up at any given time and finding Edwin within his sight and the fact that he isn’t terrifies Charles to the point where it is hard to think.

That’s why it doesn’t matter that Crystal is obviously uncomfortable when Charles twirls the bat around as he enters the warehouse, just like it doesn’t matter that the cats scatter, not even that Edwin would tut and tell Charles to use his head to solve this, not his muscles.

Because Edwin isn’t here, is he?

“Oi!”, he calls into the vast room and sends more cats running. “One of you little fuckers is going to tell me where your King has taken my friend or I’ll start smashing shit up around here, alright?”

Just to make sure they know he means business, Charles brings down his bat on the closest barrel and feels the metal dent under the impact.

It’s satisfying in a way that scares him, but everything scares him right now, so this doesn’t matter, either.

“Do you hear me?”, he shouts and knows that he doesn’t sound commanding, just desperate, because that’s what he is, desperate and scared and not even good enough to keep the most important person in the world safe. But maybe desperate is enough for this, because desperate people do desperate things and Charles is about to rip this place into bits and pieces until he finds Edwin again.

There is no answer, and Crystal reaches out to tug on his jacket, like she thinks he doesn’t mean it, but oh, that’s where she is wrong.

They have only spent a week and a half together so Charles doesn’t hold it against her, but he’ll show her, just like he’ll show the cats, how much he means it.

Edwin isn’t certain how long they stay like this, but it’s not like he cares either. His mind is still reeling from the revelation that he has been gone for six weeks, his heart caught in a cycle of ripping itself apart for leaving Charles alone and patching itself up once more because he cannot let Charles see how much he is hurting, not when Charles needs him to be strong now.

Despite having existed for over a hundred years, Edwin has never become comfortable with another person’s touch – Charles’ being the exception – but he knows that Charles needs it, so his hands have started running over Charles’ back, combing through his lovely curls, anything that will let Charles know that he is here and he is safe and he isn’t leaving ever again.

“For me, it was only a few hours”, Edwin whispers, a response that comes far too late, feels like far too little, because who cares what it was like for him if it has left Charles in such a state? “If I had known that time passed different there, I would have come back immediately. I wouldn’t have spent a second with that blasted man.”

His hand is cupping Charles’ head, trying to support him through sobs that seem to wreck through his body with the intensity of an earthquake, the tears they bring soaking through Edwin’s jacket and shirt. Even if his spectral skin cannot feel them, Edwin knows it anyway, just like he knows the desperate grip Charles has on his back, the shaking of his slender body in Edwin’s arms.

“Time passed differently-”, Crystal starts but then stops herself, almost like a decision Edwin can see her make, before she crouches down and puts a hand on Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s. Part of Edwin wants to push it away, because it should be him who touches Charles, no on else. “You know what, we can talk about that later. We have to get him out of here first, then we can figure the rest out.”

Metal bends and wood breaks and concrete doesn’t do much at all apart from sending shocks up Charles’ arms, especially if he does it again and again and again.

If he was still alive, his muscles would be screaming, he’d be covered in cuts and bruises, splinters embedded in his flesh and being driven deeper with every motion; like this, there is nothing, just Charles and the cricket bat and the violence he is unleashing.

The first hit had felt good, like a release, but by now it feels like nothing at all anymore, but in the end, he does not do it to feel better, but to get these goddamned cats to finally tell him where Edwin is.

It’s the only thing that matters, that has mattered, will matter, and Charles will take the whole fucking warehouse apart if that is what it takes.

His bat slams into the side of a barrel, denting it, and a cat flees; his bat hits a post and another one does.

“Just give him back!”, he screams and he sounds crazed, but that doesn’t matter either. “Tell me where he is!”

There is carnage around him, there’s bits of wood flying where Charles’ swing has toppled a palette over, and it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

It’s nearly impossible to get Charles to stand up and it breaks Edwin’s heart, because Charles should be light on his feet, a flurry of motion even if he is trying to stand still, but instead he stumbles when Crystal helps lift him up. His hands are still clutching to Edwin’s clothes, cramped to the point where Crystal can’t dislodge them, although she is whispering soft nothings, coaxing with even softer touches.

In the end, they shift his arms so that they are around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him when Edwin picks him up like one would a child.

Were they still alive, Edwin wouldn’t be able to carry him a step, but Charles’ astral body has no weight to it, so Charles’ head comes to rest somewhere between Edwin’s neck and shoulder, fresh tears spilling down to wet his collar.

His sobs have quieted somehow, but he is still crying, still mute to Crystal’s questions and Edwin’s attempts of encouragement.

In all the three decades Edwin has known him, he has never seen Charles like this, never this closed off or devastated; it hurts in ways Edwin didn’t know he could hurt.

Crystal doesn’t talk much to him, but for once, Edwin doesn’t blame her: if he had been here in her stead, watching Charles spiral from his usual self to this state, he also wouldn’t want to talk to the person responsible for it.

So, he just follows her to the room she is still renting, holding onto Charles’ trembling form and swearing to never let him go again.

Eventually it’s Crystal who stops him.

She screams his name over the sounds of destruction, an expression on her pretty face that Charles has no energy left to decipher.

“Charles, they are not telling you anything”, she says, and yes, that’s the problem. “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Edwin is somewhere else entirely, maybe the Cat King has taken him somewhere else in town.”

It makes little sense, and Charles wants to go back and smash another barrel into pieces, just in case it’s this one that will make those fucking cats tell him where Edwin is, when Crystal puts a hand on his shoulder and adds, “Maybe he needs our help there.”

Suddenly, a barrage of images: Edwin kept prisoner, forced into iron shackles; Edwin, being tortured; Edwin, waiting for Charles to come free him.

Charles, who has sworn to protect him and failed once already.

Edwin puts Charles down on Crystal’s bed, but even then Charles doesn’t let go of him and Edwin is touched, Edwin is terrified.

He seems so small like this, curled up on Edwin’s lap, and Edwin’s heart aches with love and with devotion and with an unbearable amount of guilt.

Without thinking, he pushes a hand through Charles’ hair again, but this time, Charles shivers against him, either because of the touch or by chance, Edwin isn’t sure.

“What happened?”, he asks Crystal softly, as not to disturb Charles.

“What do you think?”, she asks instead of answering, “He thought you were gone. He thought you might be gone forever, or trapped in Hell, or another thousand things his poor brain came up with. Would have gotten himself wiped out of existence if I hadn’t stopped him. Or dragged down to hell. He was willing to do absolutely anything to find you.”

She looks down at Charles and Edwin watches her eyes soften, like she is watching something precious; she is right, of course, but part of his heart still screams for her to stop.

“I’m not sure you know how much he loves you”, she tells him, her expression still soft, and it’s preposterous, it’s uncalled for, and Edwin desperately wishes it not to be true.

They search the harbour and the lighthouse, the library and the abandoned houses scattered around town, the high school and the cemetery; Edwin is nowhere and Charles curses Port Townsend and its people, curses the two of them for ever setting foot in it and curses Crystal for bringing them here.

In the woods, they find something akin to a shrine, complete with ancient writing that Charles cannot read, but there is no sign of Edwin anywhere. Around it, skeletons are scattered across the grass, and Charles should care about it, should make this a case, but the thought of it feels so far removed he’s almost surprised when Crystal picks it up to bring with them.

That summons the skeletons and they run, and Charles forgets about it almost immediately afterwards because it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

As Crystal outlines the events in the past six weeks in broad strokes, Charles hardly stirs, even if his tears dry at some point.

He’s not asleep, because that is not a luxury granted to them, but Edwin notices this kind of exhaustion anyway; he’s felt it before, after he had crawled out of Hell, covered in soot and bile and blood, and had collapsed right there on the floor, finally safe, but unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

And he understands it, too: he’d rather go to Hell again than lose Charles.

“He just sat there?”, he asks when Crystal is nearing the end of her tale, because it seems impossible, should be that. Charles is movement, is a constant dance, and yet Crystal is telling him that prior to Edwin’s return, he hadn’t moved in a fortnight. And it should be inconceivable, but Edwin thinks of how he found Charles, sunken into himself like he had become part of the ground itself, and suddenly it is difficult to doubt her words.

Crystal nods, and again her gaze softens when it touches Charles; again something within Edwin twists and hisses.

“He said he wasn’t leaving until you came back”, she explains, and her voice is a caress not meant for him, but Charles, who cannot hear it. “And he said he would wait forever if he had to… and I believed him.”

“Oh, Charles.”

It’s a declaration of love, of sorrow, of everything in between, and for a second, Charles stirs in Edwin’s lap, before he settles back down; it’s for the best, even if Edwin craves to see Charles’ eyes with some semblance of life in them like a starving man might crave a meal.

He strokes his knuckles down Charles’ spine, wishing he could feel the bumps of every vertebra, and Charles presses closer, almost imperceptibly so.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, he tells Crystal and means it, even if the words feel like pulling barbed wire through his airways, because taking care of Charles isn’t Crystal’s duty, it’s Edwin’s. But she was there when Edwin wasn’t, and it comforts him at least a little to know that Charles hadn’t been alone.

“Of course”, Crystal says, and her eyes stay soft, stay on Charles, “but don’t you fucking do that again.”

The vase helps nothing at all, because Charles cannot read the words that were transcribed on it or the table, because he’s useless without Edwin at his side.

Edwin would be able to solve this, there is a reason why he’s the brains of the operation after all, but Charles? The best he can do is put the vase down on Crystal’s table and all but forget about it.

Until he comes back that night from another trip to the harbour, the magic shop, the warehouse, without Edwin, whose absence feels more like a gaping, oozing wound with every passing second, and there is a stranger in Crystal’s bed.

She’s petite and looks peaceful, but Charles doesn’t even get to ask what she is doing there before Crystal starts talking.

“I put some flowers into the weird vase we found”, she says, and it doesn’t explain anything at all, “Dandelions that I found when I went back to check if we had missed anything in the woods, you know, because of the skeletons. And I heard a thud from the hallway and Niko here had passed out right in the middle of it. Which, in itself, would have been concerning, but then...God, there is no way to say this without sounding insane, but there were little people? Crawling out of her mouth? Which are now asleep in the dandelions I put into the vase.”

She looks at Charles like she expects a response, but it’s really difficult to give one, when it’s… well. When it’s not about Edwin.

“That’s good?”, he tries and Crystal rolls her eyes, looking annoyed for a second.

“Charles, I know this isn’t-”, she starts, but then stops herself, her expression softening. “I know you are worried about Edwin, but I need your help with this, okay? It won’t take long, we just have to take those little creatures back to their little altar thing so they won’t crawl back into Niko once they wake up. Can you do that for me?”

It seems reasonable and Charles still wants to say no, because nothing matters as long as Edwin isn’t back where he should be, but then he remembers, dimly, through the pain and the confusion and the gaping hole that is Edwin’s absence, that this is what they set out to do.

Help people.

So, he nods, and Crystal smiles, and that might matter at least a little bit.

“I’ll take him back to London tomorrow”, Edwin says into the silence that has settled around them. “Through the mirror. Not because I don’t want you to come, just…”

He doesn’t quite know how to say it, but Crystal seems to understand it anyway.

“That’s a good idea”, she agrees easily, and reaches out to touch a hand to Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s hand once more. “I think he should be back home and you two… I think it might be good if you had some time to sort through things. I’ll join you later.”

In any other situation, Edwin would ask what she means by that, but right now, it really doesn’t seem to matter, so he just nods, settles back against the headboard, and lets his eyes slip shut.

Charles takes the vase back where they found it, and there should be some kind of satisfaction in it, something about the job being jobbed and the day being saved and the stranger, Niko, being out of danger, but there is nothing but the gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be, because Edwin isn’t there with him.

When the sun is rising, the first rays of light coming through the windows, Edwin tries to rouse Charles once more.

“Charles?”, he asks as softly as he possibly can, not yet pulling away. “I was thinking, we should go back to London.”

For a few moments, there is no answer, but then Charles slowly, ever so slowly, sits up, his arms still around Edwin’s neck, as if he couldn’t bear to lose their closeness.

And Edwin expects a reaction, but none as violent as he gets when he finally sees Charles’ face again.

It’s not like he has forgotten it; for him, not even a day has passed, and yet it feels like seeing him for the first time.

His eyes are the same brown Edwin has become so familiar with, but they are dull still, even if a hint of life has returned to them; they are rimmed with red, eyelashes clumped together as if Charles had just been crying. And he might have been, even if the thought that he didn’t notice hurts Edwin in completely new, unexpected ways.

“You’re really back”, Charles whispers and the words are a sob and a prayer and an exaltation, and Edwin’s heart breaks because he should never have been back, he should have just been there. “You’re really here.”

There are tears spilling down his face, making his gaze a little brighter and yet not worth it; Edwin reaches out to wipe them away without thinking and Charles trembles under his touch like he never has before.

“I never meant to be away that long”, he tells Charles, although he’s not sure it matters, because he was, and there is nothing he can say or do to make it better. “I never wanted to worry you.”

I never want to be away from you for more than a few seconds, he thinks, but doesn’t say, doesn’t recognise the thought but knows it to be true nonetheless.

“I know”, Charles says, and it’s still half a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks for Edwin to wipe away. “I always knew that. And you came back and you’re safe and that’s all that matters and I just. I missed you so much.”

And it’s not all that matters, not by a long shot, but for now, Edwin just nods and wipes another tear from Charles’ skin.

Niko wakes up again and she’s lovely in a way Charles knows Edwin would have enjoyed, but if anything, that just makes the need to get Edwin back worse.

It’s been a week and Charles desperately wishes he could sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to feel this all the time.

At least Niko seems to be willing to help, which would be a relief if Charles had any hope left that looking through town would bring Edwin back. But they have been everywhere thrice, have looked at every single thing Tragic Mick has on sale, and Edwin is just gone, like the Cat King has made him vanish from existence.

The thought cuts into Charles’ flesh like iron would, burning hot and torturous and it’s been a week and maybe there’s no other way. Edwin must be hurt or captured or a thousand other things Charles won’t allow himself to think of, and Charles will bring him back, no matter what it takes.

“Could you girls go and check the lighthouse again? Maybe the beach?”, he asks and maybe Crystal is getting suspicious, but he cannot find it in himself to care. “I just, I don’t want him to get back and there not being anyone there to take care of him. Please?”

It’s enough to convince them; they won’t find anything, he knows it deep in his bones, but it gives him the time and the space to go back to the warehouse and do what is necessary.

It takes some convincing to get Charles to let go of Edwin enough to stand up, his hands sliding down Edwin’s arms like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and it’s then when Edwin’s gaze gets caught by something that should be impossible.

There’s red on Charles’ fingers.

Not the red Edwin associates with him, but the red of dried blood and fresh wounds and overwhelming pain; Charles’ fingers are stained with blood, his nails torn to the flesh, some missing ,his knuckles scraped and bruised.

A gasp escapes him, because they cannot get hurt, they are already dead. Wounds, even those from iron, are fleeting, fade within minutes. And yet, Charles’ hands are battered, bloodied, like he had just been punching a wall.

Without thinking, Edwin takes them in his, fingers delicately gripping Charles’ wrists as not to hurt his poor, wounded hands any further, as he raises them up for inspection.

“What happened?”, he asks and hears his voice breaking, feels his heart do the same.

Charles’ eyes flicker downwards and there’s a fleeting look of recognition there, but nothing more. No surprise, no confusion, not even pain.

“Oh, yeah”, he says distractedly, turning his hands within Edwin’s grasp. “It happened a few weeks ago, when I was trying to dig through the concrete. Started out with just a scrapes that healed again, no problem, but then at some point they just stayed. Don’t really know what they’re about.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Yeah”, Charles says easily, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t send Edwin’s mind spiralling. “But you get used to it, don’t you?”

It’s the warehouse again because it’s always the warehouse because Edwin has gotten lost there, and Charles has to get him back, no matter what.

So he marches into there, cricket bat brandished, and sends the cats scattering. Their King has not yet returned, his throne empty and Charles’s non-existent, aching heart seizes in his chest, like it does every time he looks at that horrible pile of palettes.

For a moment, he wants to beat it into splinters even more than he already has, wants to reduce it to dust, but then he stops himself.

It’s not what he is there to do.

One of the cats is too slow; Charles catches it easily, even if it is scratching and screaming and twisting its little body in a futile attempt to break free.

Charles doesn’t want to hurt it, but if that is what is necessary, he will.

“Tell me where he took my friend”, he hisses at the creature, ignoring that the scratches sting like fire, ignoring that the cat is most likely terrified of him. “If you don’t I’m going to crush every bone in your body and I won’t even regret it.”

There is a moment of silence, and Charles sees his hands covered in blood, feels thin bones splinter in his grip, imagines a life going out because of him, and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will if he has to.

Its little legs kick out again, before they go still and then, with the most contempt Charles has ever heard in another being’s voice, it says, “There is a cave south of here where the King sometimes goes when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Is Edwin there?”, Charles asks, a hint of hope blooming in his chest, because it’s a direction at least, a possibility. Yet, he tightens his fingers just so, just enough to let the cat know he means it.

“If you will find him, it will be there”, the cat replies and Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go.

Edwin tries not to watch Charles say goodbye to Crystal, but it’s impossible not to, because Charles won’t let go of his hand. And Edwin cannot feel it, but he knows that Charles’ knuckles are still raw and his nails torn down to the flesh, and it is impossible to think of anything else.

“You’ll take care of yourself, okay?”, Crystal says, and reaches out to hug Charles, who goes willingly, their joined hands dragging Edwin closer, too. Their joined hands, Charles’ bruised and bleeding because of Edwin.

“’Course I will”, Charles answers and buries his face in Crystal’s hair; Edwin wants to tear him away from her and keep him to himself for the rest of forever. “You, too, though. And take care of Niko.”

“I will. Maybe she wants to come with me to London. See the sights. The agency. The haunted vending machine.”

The words give Edwin a start; that case, the vending machine that used to be haunted until Charles and he convinced the ghost stuck in there to move on in 2002, is nothing Crystal should know about. It’s one of the cases Charles and he still refer to sometimes when they pass that particular machine, a little inside joke.

That Crystal knows about it, that this Niko does as well, is an almost physical blow to Edwin’s chest, and for a moment, he does not know why.

But then Charles pulls back, his bloodied hand in Edwin’s still, and says, “That’d be brills. And we can make a few new memories, too. Good ones, this time.”

And suddenly, it is so clear: in the last three decades and some, there have been almost no memories they haven’t shared, and suddenly, there are six weeks of Charles’ existence that Edwin hasn’t been part of and the realisation of it feels like it’s ripping him to shreds.

“We should go”, he says, before he thinks of it, and it is unkind and cruel and selfish to ask Charles to cut his goodbyes short; yet Edwin cannot help but feel relief when Charles looks at him for a second and nods. “I’ll see you in two days, okay, Crys?”

And Crystal, who has a nickname too, nods, and Edwin breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Charles drags the girls with him to the woods to the south, unsure where to find the cave and yet determined to do so.

Chances are that Crystal is just humouring him, but Charles doesn’t care. And it doesn’t matter, does it, because it’s her who finds it in the end.

“This doesn’t look very nice for a kitty”, Niko comments as they come closer; Charles still isn’t certain if she knows what and who they are looking for, but he doesn’t have the time stop and explain it, not if Edwin might be here, might be hurt, might be being tortured.

“I’m not sure if the Cat King would describe himself as a kitty”, Crystal replies as they get close enough to see into the cave, “But in general, I agree. I don’t think this looks nice for anyone in particular.”

She’s right; it looks damp and overgrown with weed, not a place fit for a king, but maybe for a prisoner.

“You wait outside”, Charles tells them, because he can’t die anymore, and because he isn’t sure if he wants his new friends to see what he’ll become if faced with the Cat King now. “If I need help, I’ll shout for you.”

Maybe Crystal answers, maybe she doesn’t; Charles doesn’t wait to hear it, just pulls out his bat and barges into the cave, ready to knock the whiskers off the damned creature that has taken his best friend, the best person in the world.

Inside, the cave is cosy, carpeted, a large bed and a bar crammed into a corner; it’s magic, quite obviously.

And it’s empty.

Being back in London feels right, even if the hand in Edwin’s still feels wrong.

Not because Edwin doesn’t want to hold Charles hand – he finds, although he never would have considered it before, that the weight of Charles’ hand in his is comforting, the pressure of his fingers grounding, that the occasional tug makes his heart skip a metaphorical beat – but because even without feeling, he is constantly reminded of the state of them, the blood caked under Charles’ fingernails.

Almost, he raises their joined hands again to see if maybe, some of the bruises have healed, but when Edwin turns around, Charles is looking at him with such wonder, such care, such lingering pain, that it takes his breath away.

That look alone is like a stab, a full-body blow, and Edwin hates himself for having caused it, for thinking about his petty jealousies when Charles has been through six weeks of what must have been Hell.

“Charles”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t even get to finish saying his name; before he does, Charles pulls him closer, into another hug, that feels almost as desperate as the one they shared back at the warehouse, kneeling on the ruined concrete floor.

“I thought I lost you”, Charles sobs into his shoulder, and the only thing Edwin can do is hold him. “I didn’t want to believe it for a second, but you were gone for so long and I thought- I didn’t think I’d ever be here again, I didn’t think I’d be here again with you, I didn’t-”

It makes Edwin think of what Crystal said an ocean away, that Charles didn’t want to leave the warehouse, not without Edwin, and there are tears in his eyes now, spilling over and impossible to stop, because Charles there on the warehouse floor, unmoving as the world changes around him, is the worst thing he has ever imagined.

He hugs him closer, and Charles buries his face in the crook of Edwin’s neck, hot tears spilling against Edwin’s skin and soaking into his blazer, changing the fabric in the most fundamental of fashions.

The girls find him eventually.

Charles isn’t certain how long he has been sitting there, but he isn’t sure he cares anymore, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know where he is, so he can’t save him, which means Edwin is somewhere out there, alone and lost and most likely hurt. And he must be waiting for Charles to come, because Charles has always come, Charles has promised him, again and again, that he would always come.

And now, Charles doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until Crystal is crouching before him, dabbing at his cheeks with a crumpled tissue, and it’s like everything falls apart around him, beneath him, inside him, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

They eventually part, although Edwin isn’t sure he likes it; he’s not used to this kind of closeness, and yet it feels good to hold Charles, to comfort him.

It’s not like Charles goes far either, he keeps one of his poor, battered hands on Edwin’s wrist and drags him to their sofa, pulls him down until Charles can rest his feet on Edwin’s lap, their fingers still intertwined.

At first, it’s difficult to find somewhere to put his other hand, the one that is so used to holding books when he sits here, but Charles looks at him hopefully as he fidgets, until Edwin puts it down on top of Charles’ thin ankle, fingers snaking around to hold it.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?”, Edwin asks after a few moments of silence – not uncomfortable, but heavy still – but Charles shakes his head almost immediately, dark curls bouncing.

“I’d rather not”, he says, and it sounds prim, almost rehearsed; it hurts in a new, novel way to think that Charles feels like he has to prepare answers when talking to him. “It wasn’t… pleasant. Do you wanna tell me how the Cat King kept you there for so long?”

His immediate response is no, he doesn’t want to tell Charles just what he had to do to appease the Cat King. There is an explanation ready on his lips, one he has rehearsed, back when there were lips on his throat, leaving imperceptible marks, but then he thinks of Charles’ hands, of his eyelashes clumped together with tears, and Charles deserves the truth, especially because there is so little else Edwin can give him.

“He asked for a kiss. Or rather, several”, he explains, then, because he isn’t certain how much Charles understood back then, on the warehouse floor, “For me, it was only a few hours, but wherever he took me, time must have been stretched there. It is the only explanation I can come up with.”

And he expects a chuckle, a smile, anything at all, but Charles’ eyes go dim again, go dull, and Edwin hates himself with renewed passion for causing it.

Charles isn’t sure how they end up in Niko’s room; he cannot remember walking, cannot remember teleporting either. But they do, and he is still crying, surrounded by pink and purple and bright yellow, and there are two sets of arms around him and they still don’t make him feel better.

He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he doesn’t think he ever cried like this before, not even with his father’s belt raining pain down on him. This is worse, because this is Edwin, and this is forever, and this is all his fault.

“Maybe the cat just didn’t know”, Crystal says softly, rubbing a hand along his back; for a brief moment, Charles wishes he could at least feel this. “Maybe their King doesn’t tell them much, I don’t think kings usually do. We’ll just keep looking. We’ll find someone who does.”

It’s meant to soothe, but it doesn’t; if anything it makes Charles cry harder, because who is left? He could go through the cats, one by one, and he will if necessary,, but if this one didn’t know, why should the next one be any better?

He doesn’t know how to answer, because any sound that comes from his lips is coated and drowned and swallowed by sobs, but he doesn’t have to, because Niko kisses the top of his head, and says, “You did mention a witch, maybe she knows? Maybe she has one of those crystal balls to look inside and find your friend!”

And she’s wrong, because Esther would never help them; and she’s right, because Charles has questions for her anyway.

A bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes quickly, thank God. Edwin isn’t sure what snuffed it out in the first place, but he swears not to make the same mistake a second time; his soul would not be able to take it.

He tries to keep the conversation light, only that so much of it seems to be caught up in everything that has happened.

It’s unusual, having to tread lightly around Charles, and Edwin hates it with a passion that surprises even himself. But it just feels so wrong, even more so than watching Crystal’s hand on Charles’ back, hearing her mention anecdotes from a life she wasn’t part of.

So, when he again almost asks Charles just how Crystal could have known about the cursed vending machine, he instead picks up the book lying on their side table and holds it up without even looking at the title.

“Do you want me to read you something?”, he asks, because back when they first met they occasionally did this, especially on winter nights whose cold they couldn’t feel, when Charles still remembered dying.

For a second, there is silence, Charles’ thumb brushing warm across the back of Edwin’s hand, and Edwin could live in this moment for the rest of his existence.

“The Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids?”, Charles asks, and there is a hint of his usual smile curling around his lips, a ghost of his normal teasing.

“I could get another book”, Edwin counters, and gives Charles a smile in hopes of getting a real one in return, “but I would have to get up to get it.”

And Charles is shaking his head immediately, and the smile on his lips grows into something Edwin almost recognises.

He reads the Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids to Charles for hours.

They get to E.

“Don’t do this”, Crystal repeats for the dozenth time, but Charles doesn’t slow down his steps, doesn’t even think about it. “Charles! Don’t do this. You remember the last time, she’s dangerous.”

“I know”, he answers, and he does. It’s just that it doesn’t matter. “That’s why she might have Edwin. Because she’s dangerous. Or she might at least know where he is. I can’t, Crystal.”

And he does stop, just for a second, turns around to see her and Niko trailing after him, Crystal obviously distressed, Niko most likely just confused. And he wants to care so much, but he just can’t.

Not when it’s Edwin.

“You stay out of this, Crys, please. But I can’t, not when it’s him. If there is any chance that Esther knows what that goddamned Cat King has done to Edwin, then I have to try. I have to.” He doesn’t expect Crystal to understand; they don’t know each other for long, it’s a miracle she’s even here still. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then Crystal’s expression softens, like she might understand after all, and she nods.

“Alright”, she says, “Niko and I will stay around the corner and I’ll try to read her mind. But be careful, Charles. You won’t be much help to Edwin if you join him wherever he is.”

Night falls and they are still wrapped up into their cocoon of warmth on the couch, Charles’ hand by now a familiar weight in Edwin’s.

“I know you want to ask”, Charles says into the comfortable silence, and Edwin rejoices just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “And I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just… not now, okay? I want to enjoy having you back before I have to think about all that again.”

“Of course”, Edwin answers and he means it, understands it, too. He looks down at Charles’ hand in his and that is enough for now. “Whenever you are ready. There is no rush, we have the rest of forever to figure it out.”

Charles’ fingers twitch in his and it must be the light, but the knuckles look slightly less raw, less torn. Without thinking, Edwin lifts their hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the wounds, hoping that it won’t cause more pain.

It gets a response, at least, a sharp intake of breath, Charles’ fingers clenching around his, but when Edwin looks up at Charles, allowing their hands to drop once more, his eyes are wide and warm and a little alive.

“Doesn’t hurt”, Charles answers the question Edwin has yet to ask, but his voice sounds a little strangled still. “It’s just that you don’t usually do… any of this. I thought the hand holding would be almost too much, I just couldn’t let go.”

Because I need to make sure you’re really back, he doesn’t say, but Edwin hears it anyway. And the sentiment hurts, the thought that Charles thinks physical touch is a burden to him to the point of trying to let go of Edwin’s hand for his sake.

“I do not mind it in the slightest”, he declares, making sure to tighten the grip he has on Charles’ hand. “Not if it’s you.”

And Charles’ eyes widen once more, a spark in them igniting, and Edwin kisses his knuckles, one by one, vowing that he won’t let go until Charles can look at him without fear in his eyes.

“Esther!”, he yells before he has even reached the door, ready to barge in without knocking, even if Crystal has implored him to at least stay outside of Esther’s house. “If you don’t come out, I swear to God, I will come and find you and-”

“What?”, the door swings open and Esther is standing there, pipe at her lips as she regards Charles with a put upon kind of disinterest. “I heard you boys were still in town, but oh my God, can’t you let a woman cook up her revenge in peace? You boys are so annoying.”

If he was still alive, his teeth would splinter from how hard Charles is clenching them; his fingers are itching to grab the bat and just try and mash her face in.

“Do you know where Edwin is?”, he asks instead, because that’s more important than feeling her skull split apart again.

“Who’s Edwin?”, she drawls, taking a drag from her pipe and blowing the smoke into Charles’ face. “Is that the other one? I can’t keep up with you kids and your stupid little names.”

“That’s him, yeah”, Charles answers and God, he wants to smash her kneecaps in, he wants to beg her to help, he wants to storm past her and tear her house apart until he finds Edwin. “Do you know where he is?”

“You seem desperate”, Esther says, smirking, taking another drag from her pipe. “I like it. What’s it worth to ya?”

“Everything”, he replies, although he shouldn’t, because in the end, it’s the only answer he can give.

“Love that. Not for you, but for me.” Esther is sizing him up, obviously considering something Charles won’t like the least, and yet he knows that he will do it, no matter what it is she asks, if she can only tell him where to find Edwin. “It’s gonna cost you, and I mean, like, a lot.”

“I’ll pay it”, Charles answers without a second of hesitation, and Esther smirks in a way that should make him regret his words; it doesn’t. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

Sometimes, Edwin forgets how different they get to experience time; sometimes he's forcibly reminded of the fact. Because Crystal and Niko find them like this, wrapped up in each other.

Part of Edwin wants to tear himself away from Charles, although there is nothing untoward they are doing, but another, one he understands even less, wants to press closer, wants to kiss Charles' knuckles again and let the girls see.

"You made it!", Charles exclaims when he sees Crystal, voice sounding at least a fraction alive, and Edwin loves it, despises it at the same time. "How was the trip?"

They are dripping rain water on the floor, Edwin belatedly realises, but he decides against mentioning it anyway, less for their sake and more for Charles’.

“It was alright. Long, mostly”, Crystal answers, pushing a hand through her thick curls and sending a spray of water down onto their wooden floor. Edwin does his best not to notice it. “How are you? Is everything alright?”

The concern is palpable in her voice, almost a physical entity in the room, and Charles seems touched by it, his eyes softening and another sliver of a smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Edwin’s here”, he replies, like it explains everything, and Crystal nods, as if she agrees that it does.

Her gaze flickers over to Edwin for a second, then back to Charles, whose fingers clench around Edwin’s almost imperceptibly before he shakes his head, the motion so small Edwin almost misses it.

He’s about to ask what he is going on, but then Niko steps forward, spreading even more water on their floors, and Edwin is distracted by the bright teal of her coat, the white of her hair that wasn’t there before he was taken.

“You must be Edwin”, she says and holds out a hand that Edwin cannot take without letting go of Charles’. “Charles has told us so much about you.”

“That would be me, yes. I apologise, my hand is currently quite occupied”, Edwin answers, then raises their joined hands to help explain why he cannot shake Niko’s; an expression flits across Crystal’s face, too quick for Edwin to make sense of it, yet Charles seems to understand it easily.

It shouldn’t bother Edwin as much as it does.

“Ooh, that’s okay”, Niko says, and she sounds like she means it. Her eyes are wide and happy and suddenly, even without knowing much about her, Edwin is glad that she was with Charles when he was gone. “You should be holding Charles’ hand, that’s much more important. I completely understand.”

And silently, Edwin agrees.

Esther is grinning at him in a way that reminds Charles of the snake Edwin had found in her house, cold and dangerous and like he should be running from that smile.

Instead, he takes a step forward, and he would take another if Crystal wasn’t suddenly next to him, yanking him back.

“She doesn’t know a thing”, she half hisses, half shouts, her voice as deadly as Esther’s smile. “I read her thoughts and there is nothing in there. She just wants you to promise her that you’ll do what she asks, and then use you.”

Her grip is so strong Charles feels it through his clothes, through the barrier to physical touch that is death, and as she yanks him back, Charles feels the heart he doesn’t have break in his chest once more, because for a moment, he had had hope.

Esther cackles and Charles knows there are tears spilling down his cheeks, even if he cannot feel them.

“Well, it was worth a try”, she says, sounding like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter at all, and something in Charles just snaps.

Crystal’s hand on his shoulder still feels solid, but the cricket bat in his hand does even more so, especially when it connects with Esther’s still-smirking face.

While the girls go and dry off, Charles sinks back into the cushions, his eyes fluttering close. Almost, he could look relaxed, but Edwin can still see the tension in his body, like a spring curled tight and waiting for the lightest touch to set it off.

Edwin wants to soothe him, but he doesn’t know how to, especially not when there is still so much he doesn’t know about those six weeks.

He is trying to figure out a way how to ask, or at least hint at it, but then Charles opens his eyes again, and they are softer than they should be when Charles has been through so much.

“I think you’ll really like Niko”, he says, and he sounds wistful somehow; Edwin desperately wishes he knew why. “She’s pretty brills. Might have saved me once or twice.”

“Saved you? What from?”

Edwin imagines Esther and her giant snake and Hell and everything in between, but Charles’ eyes don’t change, neither does his voice.

“Myself, really.”

In the end, it takes both of the girls to pull him off Esther.

His whole body is aching from her iron cane in ways he had forgotten he could hurt, but the pain is distant, far away; the only thing that matters is that she had said she knew how to get Edwin back and she had given him a sliver of hope and then she had snuffed it out again.

Another thing that is far away: he is screaming, or crying, or both; two sets of hands drag him down the steps, and Charles knows he’s fighting them, because… because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And then he’s just crying.

Arms pull him close against a solid chest, fingers card through his hair, and there is nothing stopping the sobs wrecking through his body, so violently Charles feels them almost like he had felt the hits from Esther’s cane.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, crouched on the ground, but it is a long, long time.

When they come back, Niko hops onto the sofa’s backrest and Charles looks up at her with obvious affection.

“Do you need some band-aids for your hands?”, she asks, placing a little box on her knee. “I brought the Hello Kitty ones.”

The words make no sense to Edwin, but Charles nods, and Edwin hates how much he doesn’t know, hates that they ever had to spend time apart.

Charles twists and turns until he can put one of his bruised hands into Niko’s lap, who inspects it, before a bright, bright smile spreads across her face, like a sunflower opening to greet the morning.

“It looks better!”, Niko tells him, and she’s right; the knuckles are still red, but have scabbed over, the cuts are a little less prominent against Charles’ warm skin.

“Does it?”, Charles asks, and sits up straighter to see for himself. “I guess your dad was right, then.”

“I told you.” Niko is pulling a pastel pink band-aid from her box, unwrapping it before placing it gently across one of the deeper scratches on the back of Charles’ hand. It covers only half of it, if even.

“Charles”, Edwin starts before he can stop himself, “what is the purpose of this? Those patches won’t make your wounds heal any faster.”

It takes a moment, but then Charles turns to look at him; it’s a silly thought, but it almost feels like Edwin has missed his eyes on him.

“They won’t”, Charles agrees, and his lips are curved into an almost-smile. “But it will make them heal better.”

Charles cannot remember how they get back to the butcher shop, but they do, because Charles ends up sitting on Niko’s bed, while she rummages through her night stand.

He isn’t certain what she is looking for, but she finds it with a little ah!, and returns to the bed with a box in her hand. It’s metal, dented and scratched in a way that shows it has been loved; she opens it and there are dozens of colourful band-aids inside, waiting to patch someone up again.

“Now, I don’t know Edwin”, she says in a strange cadence, like she is trying to figure out what to say while speaking.”But if you love him so much, then I don’t think he would like you to be hurt. And since he isn’t here to make it better, I will try.”

The words make Charles’ eyes sting with tears once more, because Niko is right, Edwin wouldn’t want him to hurt; because she is right, Edwin isn’t here.

“Ghosts don’t-”, he starts, because if he doesn’t talk, he’ll start crying again, “Our wounds heal differently. Those band-aids won’t make them heal faster.”

Niko stills for a moment, then takes one of his hands in hers, which is scratched from Esther’s cane. The wounds won’t last more than a day, Charles knows it, but Niko still touches his hand with so much care, as if she thinks she could hurt him.

“My dad used to put band-aids on my knees when I fell from my bike”, she tells him as if it’s an answer to a question Charles hasn’t asked; maybe it is. “And he always said that even if that wouldn’t make the scrapes heal faster, it would make them heal better.”

And Niko looks up at him, her fingers cradling his hand like she thinks he can still feel it.

“Do you want a pink or a green one?”

“Pink”, Charles says, and doesn’t bother to blink the tears away this time.

Niko covers Charles’ hands in band-aids until she runs out of them, Charles’ wounds too numerous for what her little chest holds. They feel strange against Edwin’s palm when Charles switches the hand he is holding Edwin’s with halfway through, the plastic so different to Charles’ skin.

He watches the exchange and it tugs at his heart in ways he doesn’t understand; it hurts and it heals, because at least Charles had someone to put little plastic patches over his wounds, even if how familiar both of them are with the process means that there must have been far more wounds than Edwin was aware of.

At the very end of it, Niko places a kiss on Charles’ knuckles and Edwin’s lips ache in jealousy.

“Thank you”, Charles tells her, and she nods, bright and happy, before she starts sliding off the backrest.

She stops, though, and cocks her head as she looks at Edwin.

“The kiss makes the wounds heal even better”, she says, like imparting a secret, and then, she’s gone.

“You can’t keep doing this”, Crystal tells him the second they are alone, in a voice that allows no objections; Charles knows he will object anyway. “Charles, I know you cannot die a second time, but you cannot keep doing this. Esther hurt you and we had to watch and I just. I can’t do that again. I know he’s your best friend, but you’re running yourself into the ground with this and I don’t know if I can watch it happen.”

She looks like she means it and Charles wants to help, but if there is one thing he cannot give her, it’s this.

“I can’t”, he answers, and looks down onto his hands, peppered with brightly-coloured band-aids someone who cares about him put there, up at Crystal who saved him from being bound to a witch’s whim, and yet it all pales in comparison to the gaping hole in his chest where Edwin’s presence usually lingers. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t stop, not as long as he’s still gone.”

He wants to tell her about how Edwin would do the same for him, about how he has saved Edwin from a hundred monsters and will save him from a thousand more, about how he isn’t sure if he can continue existing without Edwin at his side.

But he doesn’t get to, because Crystal takes a deep breath, and asks, “What if he’s not trying to come back?”

The question shocks Charles into silence, but Crystal continues talking anyway, words blurring into each other with how fast she is speaking.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much you care for him, but maybe he just left. Maybe that is why we can’t find him anywhere, why the cats couldn’t tell you anything either. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

And it’s-

It’s the most ludicrous thing Charles has ever heard in the fifty-odd years he has spent on this Earth.

“No”, he tells Crystal, “No, you’re wrong. And not because I couldn’t bear it although I really, really couldn’t, but… that’s not how we are, Crystal. He wouldn’t leave. Never. If there is anything in the world I know for certain, it’s that Edwin wouldn’t leave. And that means he’s out there somewhere and he is hurt or captured, and he is waiting for me to come and get him. And I will, Crystal, no matter what happens, I will.”

There’s nowhere in the agency for the girls to sleep, so they set out to find a hotel, and Edwin breathes a sigh of relief, even if he hates himself for it only moments later.

He shouldn’t be so jealous of Charles’ attention, his affection, especially not when Crystal and Niko have stuck with him for six horrifying weeks, and Edwin should be nothing but grateful to them for taking care of the best, the most important person in existence instead of him.

But the door closes behind them, and it’s just Charles and him once more, and Edwin is weak, is possessive and greedy and looks down at Charles’s hand in his, and thinks that at least one thing is right in the world.

“Alright”, Charles says and turns to look at Edwin. “You can ask me. Not about everything all at once, maybe, but you can ask me.”

It should take him at least a second to understand what Charles is talking about, but it doesn’t; Charles says you can ask me, and there’s a thousand questions swarming through his head immediately, begging to be spoken aloud.

He nods, but before he can decide on any one thing to ask, he takes Charles back to the sofa and makes him sit down, their hands still loosely joined between them.

Touch is something Charles has always needed, but now, with Charles so hurt, so vulnerable, Edwin realises that he needs it almost as much.

There are so many things he wants to know that it feels impossible to settle on one thing, at least to start with, until suddenly, there’s a question that blazes through his mind so painfully that Edwin speaks it out-loud before he has a moment to reconsider.

“Did you ever doubt I would come back?”, he asks, then corrects himself, “No, did you ever doubt that I wanted to come back?”

He tells himself that he’ll accept any answer Charles will give him and it’s the truth; another truth: if Charles ever doubted that the only place Edwin wants to be is at his side, it will shatter his heart to pieces.

“Of course not”, Charles says, not missing a beat, and Edwin gets to keep his heart after all. His voice is soft and his eyes are, too, even if their light is still dimmed. “I’d never doubt that. It’s you and me against the world, isn’t it?”

Edwin nods, and there are tears in his eyes he does not deserve to cry.

“Thank you”, he says, unsure what he is thanking Charles for: for still being here, for believing in Edwin, in the strength of their friendship, for enduring all of it. “I know it must have been Hell, because that’s what it would have been had the roles been reversed, but something must have happened, because your hands…”

Without wanting to, he looks down at Charles’ fingers, wrapped in bright plastic, his own woven between them, pristine because he allowed the most important person in existence to go through this alone.

“I’m not really sure”, Charles replies, and when Edwin looks up again, it’s Charles who is staring at their joined hands. “To be honest, I didn’t really stop to think about it. We found out about this other dimension the Cat King uses to escape, and I just went mental, didn’t I? Started trashing the warehouse completely, and when my bat broke, well. I just used my hands. I guess they’re not as sturdy.”

He tries for a smile, and it rips Edwin’s heart to pieces.

“You-”, he starts, but doesn’t get the words out, because the thought is too much to bear, the images of Charles ripping his fingers to shreds to find him too vivid.

“Had to get you back somehow, didn’t I?”, Charles asks, answers, still smiling, and Edwin cannot take a second more, so instead, he pulls Charles against his chest and hugs him so tightly he knows that, if he had any bones left, he’d feel them creak.

Maybe he should be discouraged, maybe it should be difficult to go back out and start looking for Edwin all over again, but it isn’t.

What would be difficult is sitting down and waiting; what would be impossible is to let Edwin stay wherever he is being kept.

So, he walks.

Past meadows and across streams, up hillsides and then looks down into the valleys and still finds nothing, nothing at all. It’s maddening, it’s the worst thing he has ever felt, because the scenery is beautiful, the days long and the sun bright, and Charles feels like he is dragging himself through barbed wire and broken glass.

When he gets Edwin back, he’ll never let him out of his sight again, he swears when he walks up to the lighthouse once more, for the fifteenth or five hundredth time, sparing a look at the ghosts sitting there, watching the water. He’ll keep him close, keep him in his sight, keep one hand in Edwin’s, no matter if he likes it or not, for the rest of eternity, just to make sure he won’t stray too far.

It becomes a thing between them when they are alone.

Charles will look at him and say, one question, or three questions, and Edwin will go through his mental catalogue of them, realising how much he hates that there is anything about Charles he does not know all over again, every single time.

How long did you wait in the warehouse at first?, he asks, and Charles says, days. Crystal had to force me to leave it for the first time.

Why is Niko’s hair white now?, he asks another time when they sitting on the roof, the sounds of the city dulled down to a gentle buzz. Oh, that was mental, actually, Charles answers, and launches into a story about gnomes crawling from her mouth, and Edwin sits there and watches him, and wishes Charles would tell the story like he would have two months ago, animated and excited about it, instead of matter-of-factly.

How long would you have stayed on that floor?, he asks, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer this time, only knows he has to. And Charles looks at him strangely, fondly, sadly, and says, forever, mate.

Crystal catches up with him at the warehouse again, where he is pacing on the horrible, hated concrete floor, thinking about battering it open and seeing if he can find Edwin between the pieces. She’s been looking at him more often now, so openly worried Charles sometimes finds it difficult to hold her gaze, but there is nothing to be done about it, is there?

It’s the same way she is looking at him now, forehead furrowed and her dark eyes on him feeling like they are taking Charles apart, piece for piece, thought for thought.

“What are you looking for?”, she asks like she doesn’t know it, like the answer has ever changed.

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say Edwin’s name without breaking into tears, because if he says his name, he might not stop anytime soon.

“Charles”, she tries again and it stops his feet mid-step, “Charles, what if you don’t find him? What if he never comes back?”

It’s words that never should be spoken, because they cannot be allowed to be true, and Charles closes his eyes, just to save himself from the look in Crystal’s eyes.

“I’ve been to Tragic Mick’s shop and I asked him about ghosts and their wandering, because you are scaring me”, she continues, “and he told me that the only ghosts who wander are those that killed themselves. And that scared me even more.”

And Charles wants to shake his head and tell her she’s wrong, but it feels like that somehow; like half of him died and he is doing everything he can to follow.

Niko comes to change Charles’ band-aids and Edwin doesn’t think about it much, just watches her take out the box and tell Charles about the characters depicted on them. The wounds themselves have healed slightly, and even if no one knows why, Edwin breathes a sigh of relief at the discovery.

He expects Niko to let Charles choose a colour again, like she has done before, but instead she turns to him, who is just there because Charles is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I think you should choose the colour this time”, Niko tells him, holding out a hand with three different band-aids in it, three different colours, three different patterns.

“It’s not my hands, though”, Edwin protests, but Niko just shoves her hand closer.

“No”, she agrees, “but they’re your wounds, too.”

And Edwin glances at Charles, who, for once, isn’t looking back, takes in the sharp cut of his jaw and the dullness of his eyes, thinks of his bleeding knuckles and broken nails, and knows she is right.

“This one, then”, he says, and leaves the green one, covered with leaves, the yellow one, covered with stars, and picks up the red one, covered in hearts.

The thought doesn’t appear gradually, it rips through him one day when he is walking through the library, forgetting to avoid the bookcases and just phasing through them instead.

Two days before, Niko, in a futile hope to console him, had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze.

“If he has come back from Hell, then I’m sure he’ll come back from where he is now. Especially if he knows you are waiting for him”, she had said, and back then, Charles had just tried giving her a smile, not thinking anything of the comment.

But now, it’s like a bolt from the heavens, a thought so devastating it leaves him gasping in the middle of the room, clutching at his chest like he still had a heart to calm.

He knows little to nothing about the Cat King, because in the end, Edwin had always been the brains of their operation, the one with the encyclopedic knowledge of anything supernatural, but something he knows intimately are Edwin’s stories about Hell.

Most of them, he has heard at least a dozen times, and even if that is not enough to imagine the horrors there, it’s enough to know that the entities there use souls like bargaining chips.

Edwin had told him before that he had been traded from demon to demon, and back then, in the comfort of their agency, Charles had shivered and put a hand on Edwin’s shoulder in lieu of pulling him against his chest, tucking Edwin’s head under his chin and never letting him go again.

Now, a picture forms in his mind that is so terrifying Charles feels like screaming, and Edwin is not here, so Charles will claw him from the mouth of Hell itself this time.

“Charles, could I borrow Edwin for a second?”, Crystal asks one evening, and Charles’ fingers tense around his own.

It’s a strange phenomenon that has only increased with time; occasionally, Edwin thinks he can almost feel Charles’ touch, not as just resistance, but like he used to when he was still alive.

“It won’t be long and I’ll bring him back, I promise”, she adds, not even bothering to ask Edwin, just assuming he will follow her.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles eventually answers, even if a second too late, and slowly, ever so slowly, untangles their fingers from where their hands had been resting between them. It’s the first time since Edwin has come back that they are not touching, and Edwin feels the loss of it immediately, his fingers itching to find Charles’ once more.

For now, though, he only gives Charles a smile before he follows Crystal outside, where she stops immediately.

Her expression is one Edwin cannot decipher, anger lingering behind her eyes, but almost concealed by something much greater, much more important.

“Do you have any idea how much Charles loves you?”, she asks, and the anger is there in her voice, the other thing is, too. “I know I asked you before and you said yes, but I don’t think you do. And I think you need to.”

“I am perfectly aware-”, Edwin starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“You are not”, Crystal interrupts him and she sounds so certain that Edwin feels helpless hearing it, because even if he doesn’t believe her, there are things now that she knows about Charles and he doesn’t. “I watched that boy beat up a witch that almost took out all three of us, because she had lied about knowing where you were, and the only reason he didn’t bash her immortal head in was because Niko and I pulled him off of her. He was willing to sell his soul to her just to get you back. To a demon, too. He nearly ripped off his own fingers trying to reach you, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

She pauses for a moment and Edwin can’t speak, can hardly think, his brain trying to sort through the information and failing, because it hurts too much.

“I thought he was going to die, Edwin. Cease existing. Whatever”, she continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and the anger is still there, and Edwin understands it now, deserves it. “I went to see him every day at that warehouse after he had just sat down and accepted his fate and every day I expected him to just not be there anymore. That’s how much he loves you, I thought he was going to disappear just because you had, too. He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone.”

“Crystal…”

“If you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret you were ever born”, she finishes, and Edwin believes her without reservations, “and the only reason I won’t kill you a second time is because I know it would kill Charles, too.”

It’s not easy to get Crystal to tell him where David is, but Charles manages anyway.

The roller-skating rink is dark and dirty, the concrete floor too close to the one in the warehouse for Charles not to shiver when seeing it for the first time. But it doesn’t matter, isn’t allowed to matter, because crouched in the corner is a human figure with shaggy hair and a too-large fur coat, and Charles wants to rip him apart for Crystal, wants to beg him to help for Edwin.

“Oi!”, he yells out and David scatters in a way that reminds Charles of a bug of some kind. “You remember me, yeah?”

“What do you want?”, David spits back, pressed against the wall and trying to look like he wouldn’t flee if Charles gave him an opportunity to do so. “Haven’t you ruined enough?”

“Didn’t ruin a thing”, Charles replies, but there’s no fire to it, because in the end, as much as he hates it, he needs the bastard’s help. “I need you to send me to Hell.”

If he wasn’t so desperate, if there wasn’t a constant loop of torture behind his eyes whenever he blinked, showing him thousands of ways that Edwin could be torn apart this second, he would try to find a better, a more subtle way of putting it, but there is, and Charles has long since stopped caring.

He hasn’t seen Edwin in more than three weeks and if his best friend in the world, the one person who never deserved to go to Hell, spent three weeks there because Charles was too stupid to put the pieces together, he will never forgive himself for it.

“What?”, David asks, and Charles has no time for this, for any of it.

“Hell. I need you to send me to Hell, because my friend might be there and I need to find him”, he repeats, and it takes a moment, but then David laughs, an ugly, rough sound.

“You want to go to Hell”, he repeats, like Charles hasn’t said so twice already. “Voluntarily.”

“Yes.” Charles closes his eyes for a second, wishing that the deep breaths he used to ask Edwin to take would still have the same effects on him as they did when he was still alive. “You don’t need to understand it, you just have to send me there. I’ll sell you my soul or whatever it is you do, I don’t care. I just need to get to Hell as quickly as possible.”

David still looks like he wants to laugh, but this time, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step forward, raising his hands as if he was trying to placate Charles, a smile on his lips that Charles wants to knock off.

“Alright, alright”, he says, and Charles hates him and hates the Cat King and hates himself for letting it come to this. But it will be worth it, anything would be worth it if it brought Edwin back. He’ll figure out what to do about his own soul later. “I’ll get you to Hell, absolutely. But it sounds like you’re desperate, so I might need a bit more than just your soul to make it happen.”

“No.” He thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, all safe, all oblivious, hopes they’ll forgive him. “You’ll get my soul, and that’s it.”

David pretends to think about it, but Charles has dealt with enough demons to know he will accept; they are greedy creatures after all, and a soul is a soul is a soul.

“Okay”, he says at last, and still, Charles feels relief wash through him. Just hold on a little bit longer, Edwin. I’m coming. “I’ll take your soul. And I’ll send you to Hell. But I’ll choose the Circle.”

“Sure, whatever”, Charles replies and the smirk that David gives him should scare him, but he’s far past scaring. “I’ll find him no matter what.”

Crystal’s words echo in Edwin’s head when they return to the agency and Edwin slots back into the spot next to Charles, their fingers intertwining naturally.

He knows Charles loves him, of course he does. Has known it for thirty years and has it carved so deeply, so prominently into his heart that he’ll never forget it, yet something about Crystal’s words makes that knowledge scream in his chest when Charles looks at him, a little bit of his usual brightness returning to his eyes as soon as they touch.

It’s not frightening, that knowledge, but it’s not comforting either.

It’s just there, beating in his chest like a heart might, asking if Edwin feels the same.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Edwin answers.

Yes.

“Oh, you fucking won’t”, rings out Crystal’s voice just before Charles’ hand touches David’s, and for a moment, Charles hates her.

Then someone grips his shoulder and flings him backwards, and Crystal is standing there, breathing heavily, a cleaver in her hand, and for another moment, Charles loves her.

“You won’t fucking touch him”, she hisses, and David laughs, the sound just as rough, just as ugly.

“He came here by himself”, he tells her, grinning still. “He asked me to take his soul. He begged me to do it.”

“Well, the offer has been rescinded. And you better go wherever the fuck you came from, before I send you back there myself.”

“Crystal, I need him to-”, Charles starts, desperate, but he never gets to finish the sentence, because Crystal turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are blazing like fire, before they go white.

“No one needs him for anything”, she tells him and her voice is distant and emotionless and powerful, echoing in the empty space like it is made of a hundred women speaking.

And Crystal reaches out and puts a hand on the centre of David’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, then he is being flung back against the wall with an invisible force, kept there suspended.

“You won’t touch him again”, Crystal says and the other voices still echo within hers, leaving Charles breathless and awed and despondent. “And you won’t touch me either. Otherwise I’ll bury you so deep you’ll be begging me to send you back to Hell instead.”

And she lets him go; when she turns back to Charles, there’s a small pouch in her hand.

“Crystal said you almost sold your soul to a demon”, Edwin starts the next time Charles allows him a question.

Everything Crystal had told him has stuck with him, but this he had only realised much later, and it had scared him like hardly anything else had before.

Charles just nods, this time doesn’t even try for a smile, and Edwin is glad for it; he’s not sure if he could take it.

“I didn’t really think I had a choice”, he adds after a few moments, like it makes it better. “I thought the Cat King might have sold you to some kind of demon and that was why I couldn’t find you anywhere. And the idea of you, stuck down there… I couldn’t take it.”

“But there was no proof, there can’t even have been any indication that…”

“No, there wasn’t”, Charles replies and this time, he does smile, and the sight is as torturous as Edwin knew it was going to be. “But I had to make sure. No version of you getting dragged to Hell where I don’t come and get you, is there?”

His fingers, adorned with less band-aids than there were before, squeeze Edwin’s and for a moment, they almost feel warm, real.

And Edwin blinks back tears and thinks of Crystal saying, he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, and squeezes back.

“How am I supposed to get Edwin back now, Crystal?”, Charles sobs, the words coming out drowned in tears and desolation. “What if he’s in Hell and I can’t get him back?”

He’s on the floor of the roller-skating rink, David’s collapsed form just metres away, and Charles should move in case he wakes up again, but he can’t. His limbs are not moving, his thoughts spiralling, because the only thing that counts is that Edwin might be trapped in some kind of torture chamber in the one place Charles cannot reach.

Two familiar hands pull him up and into a hug that Charles cannot reciprocate, shaking too violently with the intensity of his sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Charles”, Crystal mutters into his shoulder, and she sounds shaken, sounds almost in tears. “Have you ever stopped for a second and thought what would happen if Edwin came back and you were in Hell?”

“Now that we’re all back, do you guys want to get back into detecting?”, Crystal asks them, and Charles flinches almost imperceptibly, before forcing a smile onto his pretty lips.

This time, at least, looking at it is a little less painful.

“Yeah, of course”, Charles says, “but maybe not right away. Unless Edwin…”

“No, I think a bit of a break would do us some good”, Edwin tells him before Charles can even finish the sentence. “Maybe once Charles’ hands have healed. We have no reason to rush it, do we?”

And watches as a little bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes.

It’s later, although Charles cannot tell exactly how much.

Crystal had to half-carry him out of the roller-skating rink, where they had both collapsed on the ground, unable or unwilling to move.

With time, Charles’ sobs had dried up, even though it feels like he has an ocean of them still stored inside his chest, lapping at his unbeating heart like waves. But Crystal had been right, he doesn’t know if Edwin is in Hell, just fears it more than anything else in this world.

“Charles?”, Crystal asks into the night air, sounding pensive, drained.

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Edwin are best friends, but that can’t be all that there is to it. Not with how you’ve been in the past weeks. What’s going on?”

It’s not the question he expected, it’s not even one he has ever asked himself before, but there is exhaustion so deep in his bones, paired with despair he didn’t know he could even feel, and Charles knows that Crystal deserves an answer.

So, he looks inside, pictures Edwin, his little smug smile when he wins at Clue and the elegance of his gestures and the way his voice softens when he knows Charles needs reassurance.

He thinks of Edwin, bathed in the light of the morning sun, and illuminated by the stars, thinks of Edwin’s wit and his brilliance and how easily he gets annoyed at period dramas on TV when their costumes aren’t historically accurate. Thinks of Edwin reading him to sleep when he was dying and reading him poetry afterwards when he found out that Charles had never truly liked a poem, and how Edwin’s voice had almost made him cry when he had recited Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale.

Thinks about how when he’s sad, it’s Edwin he wants to talk to, and when he’s happy, it’s the same thing, the same intensity.

Thinks about how no one has ever known him like this, inside and out, with all his flaws and imperfections and silly little quirks, and how Edwin does and still wants to keep him; how Charles knows just as much about him and feels the same.

Thinks about how it’s impossible to imagine a world without him in it, and how Charles never even wants to try doing so.

Thinks of Edwin and how he is the best, the brightest, the most important part of his existence.

“I love him”, he finally answers, and he’s choking on the words because they are true and yet he hasn’t known until a second ago. “Crystal, I love him. I love him so much and I never even got to tell him.”

And he’s crying again, just as hard as before, and Crystal reaches out and holds him until it’s morning again.

“Crystal and I found the vending machine”, Niko tells them the next day when the girls arrive around noon. She’s skipping, obviously excited as she sits down between them, completely ignoring that it means they have to rearrange their intertwined hands. “The one that was haunted. It was so cool, I got an orange soda out of it.”

She’s unpacking her band-aids, although nowadays, Charles doesn’t need many of them anymore, setting them out as a surgeon would their instruments, and no matter how charming Edwin finds her, the reminder that the girls know of the vending machine still makes something in Edwin’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“That’s great”, Charles says and maybe there is a little bit more light in his eyes than there was yesterday. He plucks a band-aid from Niko’s lap and hands it to her. “This one today, please.”

And it really isn’t great at all, but Edwin doesn’t know how to formulate the fact into a sentence that doesn’t sound like complete lunacy.

“And this one”, he says instead, and grabs a random band-aid too, just so he won’t make a fool of himself.

It’s the first time he has participated in the little ritual by his own volition and Niko smiles at him, almost a reward, before taking a look at the plaster he picked.

“That’s nice”, she tells him, and puts it down next to Charles’ choice for later use. “And really fitting. They’re in love in the anime.”

Charles’ hand twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else until Niko is finished.

“There is one more thing”, Crystal tells him as they are walking back to the butcher shop, after she has explained the power of her ancestors she has just discovered to him, or at least tried to. “When I was in David’s mind, I could see… something in the warehouse. Somewhere he thought about escaping to. I think it’s something like a little pocket dimension, if that makes sense. Maybe Edwin is in there.”

That night, Charles gives him another question, and Edwin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

“When did you tell Crystal and Niko about the Case of the Haunted Vending Machine of 2002?”

Charles looks surprised, and Edwin cannot blame him; it is such an inconsequential thing to ask when is so much else Edwin doesn’t know yet, but then his eyes soften a little, and there is a spark in his eyes that Edwin has missed dearly.

“I’m not entirely sure”, he says, and it makes Edwin feel a little better to know that: at least to Charles, it wasn’t an occasion that mattered. “But they asked about you sometime, especially Niko, after she could see me. About why I wanted to find you so badly, about how our life was like before we came to Port Townsend. And I thought the easiest thing was to just tell them about cases. And you were brilliant in the vending machine one.”

He smiles and for the first time since he got back, Edwin doesn’t have to suppress a flinch; it almost looks like the smile he is used to.

“So were you”, Edwin replies without thinking, and means it, too. His fingers tighten a little around Charles’ and he could swear he can feel skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

“We were pretty brilliant together.”

“We were”, Edwin replies and wants to pull Charles closer, wants to never let him go again, “And we still are.”

This time, Crystal doesn’t even try to stop him.

Charles walks into the warehouse, cricket bat in hand, vowing then and there that he won’t leave until he has found this pocket dimension, no matter what or where it is.

He starts with whatever is left of the furniture, smashing it to pieces and ripping those apart until they’re nothing more than splinters. The palettes strewn about are next, nails flying as Charles pulls the boards apart and leaves them scattered on the ground.

Then, the walls, tearing down the panelling, until the metal is bare and covered in dents and scratches and holes where his bat bust through the rust. He rips out the light fixtures and grinds them to dust under his loafers, shreds the nets hanging between the beams and leaves their tattered remains wherever he happens to be standing.

Finally, the floor itself, because if he has to dig down to Hell with his nails and teeth, he will.

The concrete cracks under the barrage of hits he rains down onto it, magic putting more force into the blows than his spectral muscles could, until the ground looks like a meteor hit.

It turns out to be too much for his bat, which splinters just like the palettes, the pillars, the concrete did, so Charles throws it away and uses his hands instead, shovelling away gravel and debris and chipped wood, digging deep into the ground until it, and Edwin, are the only things he can still think about.

Somewhere in between, his hands start bleeding, his nails cracking and ripping down to the flesh, but Charles pays them no mind, even as pain radiates up his arms with every punch, every blow, every cut.

It feels like the scratch of a cat’s claw, just a hundredfold, and it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

“Why is this so important to you? All the questions, I mean. I know Crystal told you the gist of what happened during that time”, Charles asks after he has answered another one of Edwin’s queries. He looks relaxed, his head pillowed on Edwin’s lap, and when he looks up at him, Edwin knows he could count the lashes around his deep, dark eyes.

They’re less dull nowadays, but still don’t hold that one spark that Edwin misses the most of all.

“It’s silly”, he confesses, not because he wants to, but because Charles has shared so much with him that he deserves to have at least one question of his own answered truthfully. “It’s just that for decades, all of your memories were mine as well. And those six weeks… I wish I could change them, I wish you didn’t have to endure them, I wish I could take all of it away, so please, don’t think that this matters more to me than that.”

He takes a deep breath, something that he had forgotten about in Hell, something that Charles had showed him once more after they had met, something that now will always be Charles to him.

“Suddenly, there are six weeks in the middle of your existence, and I wasn’t part of a second of them. And I hate that, much more than I should.”

For a few, long moments, there is no answer, just Charles’ eyes on him, just his fingers brushing across Edwin’s knuckles.

“Edwin, you were there for every second of it”, Charles finally answers, and his eyes are still not as bright as they used to be, but they’re bright anyway. “You were at the heart of everything. I missed you in every single moment.”

His hands are bruised and bloody, some of his nails missing, the others torn down until they are little more than gaping wounds, as Charles tears another piece of concrete from the floor.

He has looked everywhere and Edwin isn’t here and it is a constant refrain in his head; he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here.

Occasionally, there’s tears mixing with the blood, but Charles doesn’t pay them any mind either.

On the third day, Crystal finds him, covered in dust and grime and blood and splinter of what might be wood or bone or whatever is left of his ruined heart.

She breathes out his name and it’s a sob; when he looks up at her, it takes a second until he recognises her.

“You can’t continue like this”, she says, and there are tears in his eyes, on her cheeks, dripping down her chin. “Edwin wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this and I can’t watch it any longer. It’s been almost a month, Charles, you won’t find him like this.”

It takes a moment or two until he finds the words, remembers how to speak, and when he does, he knows he’s crying, too.

“But what else is there left I can do?”, he asks, and Crystal chokes on her tears, before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t know, Charles. I wish I did.”

“Your hands are almost fine again”, Edwin remarks and lifts the one he is holding up to inspect it. There are just two band-aids left, one around his ring finger, one on the back of Charles’ hand, green and yellow respectively.

“I know”, Charles answers, lifting the other one, a single frog-themed plaster around his thumb. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

And Edwin looks at him, his almost-perfect smile, the slope of his nose and the dark brown of his eyes; he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal says in his mind.

“Yes”, he replies, “it really is.”

“Come with me”, Crystal pleads, trying to pull him up from where he is sitting on the ground, between broken pieces of concrete and wood.

“I can’t”, Charles says, and knows it is true. His limbs won’t move, his body refusing Crystal’s attempt to lift him up; he won’t leave without Edwin at his side.

“You have to”, Crystal replies, and Charles wishes he could reach up and brush the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t stay here. Not like this.”

“You don’t understand, Crystal”, he says, and maybe he is crying, maybe he has forgotten how to do even that. “I can’t leave. If he isn’t here, then nothing matters. I cannot pass on, because there’s no Heaven if Edwin’s not in it. And I could stop existing, maybe, but if I do and he comes back, then he’ll be alone. So, if I can’t find him, if I can’t bring him back, then I’ll just… stay. And I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

Even though Charles, who used to flit between places like breathing, seems most content inside the agency these days, Edwin drags him up to the roof, because the weather is lovely and Edwin wants to see the sun on Charles’ skin, reflected in his eyes.

He seems different today, distracted, but he gives Edwin a small, almost-right smile when they sit down on the ledge, looking down over the city.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask a question today”, Charles says after a few seconds, but he sounds far away, almost distracted. “I know you like them. It’s just. There is one thing that I don’t think you how to ask about and that you should know. So I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Something about his words makes Edwin’s metaphorical heart beat faster, makes him look at Charles and notice everything at once: the way he clenches his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, how his tongue darts out to wet lips that don’t get dry any longer.

He looks nervous, and Edwin hates it, because there is nothing Charles could say that would make Edwin care for him any less.

“You can tell me anything, Charles.”

“I know”, Charles replies and gives Edwin the smallest of smiles. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

For a long time, there is nothing, then Charles shakes his head slightly, a tick Edwin knows so intimately it almost pains him.

“You see”, he starts, “when you were gone, I found something out about myself. About you, too. I’m not sure if I would have otherwise, at least not now. And I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, and now that you’re back it’s suddenly so difficult, because you’re here and I know it won’t change anything, not between us, but it will change something for me, anyway.”

He lifts their joined hands, the single band-aid stark against his skin, and smiles; for a moment, Edwin forgets that he doesn’t understand what Charles is talking about, because there is something so fond, so sweet, so devastating about the look in his eyes.

“I love you”, he says, and Edwin’s metaphorical heart stops, speeds up, swells until it is straining against his ribs, “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m in love with you, Edwin. And I thought I might never be able to tell you, so I’m doing it now.”

And he looks over at Edwin and for the first time since he had launched himself into his side in that godforsaken warehouse, Charles smiles at him and it’s the smile Edwin missed the entire time, every bit of sunlight in the universe bundled into his eyes, into the curve of his lips.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t expect you to”, Charles says, and his voice is trembling, but he sounds happy nonetheless, sounds content. “I just needed you to know that you’re loved in every way there is.”

A beat, a second, another one, and Edwin looks at Charles and it’s like he is seeing him for the very first time, at the same time like he has never seen anything else in his entire existence.

He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal’s words echo in his mind, and she was right all along, and Edwin…

“I love you, too”, he says without thinking about it, because he doesn’t have to, he has known this for years, decades, maybe forever.

“I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling; he’s so beautiful Edwin wants to break down and thank the fates that he was sacrificed, that he was dragged to Hell and escaped it, that he is allowed to be here, holding hands with the best, the most important, the most beautiful boy in the world.

“No, Charles. I’m in love with you.”

And another beat, another second, and Charles’ eyes go wide, the sun behind them goes supernova, and Edwin can’t believe he ever looked at him and didn’t know he wanted to kiss those lips.

“Oh”, Charles breathes out and he sounds overwhelmed, sounds almost bashful. “That’s… that’s brills, innit?”

“Yes. It is.”

There is a pause, because something shifts between them; it doesn’t change, because it was always there, even without them knowing, so instead, it blossoms and blooms and grows into something so delicate, so resilient, so beautiful that Edwin finds himself smiling, almost laughing, almost crying.

“Can you just kiss me, please?”, he asks, love and happiness and devotion woven into every syllable.

And Charles nods, eyes brighter than Edwin has ever seen them before, and there is a second of hesitation, but then he leans in and kisses Edwin, and this time, there’s no mistaking it; there’s lips pressed against his, warm and soft and sweet, and Edwin can feel them just as if he was alive.

“I love you”, he whispers against Charles lips, and Charles laughs, before pressing closer still, kissing him again and again until Edwin’s head is swimming with it, his lips wet and swollen and his cheeks wet with the happiest tears he has ever cried.

“I love you”, Charles whispers back, and he’s smiling.

And he kisses him again.

[riki-riks-chick]

HIII KASS ‼️‼️‼️

recently i js got out of a rlly toxic relationship with my bf, and it made me think! heeseung helping yn realize her abusive bf is bad for her??

can i be 🐮 anon?

Realize ┃L.HS

heeseungxreader

yn is in an abusive relationship, heeseung wants her to know that she deserves better.

cw: angst/fluff! domestic violence, hitting, swearing, abusive relationship, degrading.

wdct: 1.2k

tysm for your request. im so glad you're out of that relationship 💚 pls stay safe and don't sell yourself short bc u deserve a person who respects you and loves you.

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Third Person POV~

You'd be lying if you ever said this is the first time you've left your apartment in the middle of the night. It's definitely not the second either, and you're sure it's not the last. You're in a relationship, and have been in the same relationship for two years. You love your boyfriend dearly, and you're sure he loves you too, but alcoholism is a thing, sadly.

He works long days, and sometimes nights.. You'd like to think it's stress leading his actions. At least that's what you thought at first. All the time's he's come home slightly drunk, you were never bothered by it, but it seemed like he started getting more agressive as the long weeks went on.

Picking dumb fights with you over small things, getting irritated by simple touches or gestures. Slight agression over you not wanting sex from him. Everything just seems to have gone downhill the past few months.

He got home about an hour ago, at around midnight. You woke up hearing the shower, and you got out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom. "Baby?.." You call out lowly, and he peeks out from behind the shower curtain, scoffing. "I thought you were sleeping?"

"I was.. Sorry I didn't wait up for you." You apologize as he rolls his eyes. "I don't expect much from you anymore anyway.." He says as you frown, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?.."

He turns off the shower, wrapping his towel around his waist as he steps out, his hair dripping onto his damp skin. "You're smart enough to put it together, aren't you?"

You're clearly puzzled at the annoyance in his tone, but he doesn't seem to care. "Did I do something wrong?"

He scoffs, grabbing another towel to dry his hair. "Let's see.. I basically never get sex from you, you don't wait for me at night, I hardly ever see you anymore, and you cop an attitude everytime I say anything to you." He argues as you sigh. "It's hard to want sex when you're always coming home drunk lately."

He raises an eyebrow at your words, stepping closer to you, you can smell the scent of his bodywash fresh on his skin. "Oh really?.. So if I wanted to fuck you right now, would you give in?.."

Your back hits the counter as you step back, your chest rises with each heavy breath as he traps you in between himself and the counter. "You've had a long day, and so did I.. Let's just rest.."

He chuckles, pressing himself against you, you can feel everything thanks to the thin towel he's wearing. "I think fucking you would help me relax way more.." Soon enough he's leaning in to kiss you, but you dodge immediately, pushing him away by the chest.

"Just put some clothes on and we can both sleep.." You suggest, only to be ignored when he pushes your hands away, attempting to kiss you again.

This time you shove him away, leaving the bathroom. He follows, shoving you against the wall once he has a good enough hold on you.

"Please.. Just calm down." You attempt to move, only to be pressed firmly against the wall once more. You can feel a bruising pain blossom throughout your left shoulder blade from the impact of your back hitting the wall.

He attempts to tug on your sweats, but you hold them up. "Stop, just leave me alone!"

He pulls back, staring at you as he scoffs. "You stupid bitch.. Show some respect."

The next few seconds blur as you feel his palm strike your cheek, the pain burning itself into your skin as you immediately press your hand to the spot to soothe the pain.

Your eyes are watering and he's seemingly shocked by his own corse of action. As soon as he parts his lips to speak, you run past him, grabbing your phone before leaving the room.

You slip into some shoes, grabbing your keys and your wallet just in case. And then, you left.

Now you're standing in the rain, feet planted on the doormat of your closest friend's doorstep as you raised your fist to knock.

Though it took awhile, the door eventually opened, Heeseung staring down at you with a pitied expression. "Y/n?.. What are you doing here this time of night?.. Did you guys argue again.." He leaves before you can answer, soon coming back with two towels. He sets one on the floor so you can walk in and then he wraps the other one around you.

You finally release the well of tears that you tried so hard to hold back, and Heeseung's worry multiplies itself. He decides that comforting you is worth more than staying dry, so he hugs you, rubbing comforting circles onto your back.

"What happened..?" He questions gently, pulling back to look at you. You take a second to calm down before staring up at him. "He hit me..." You divulge with a sob, and Heeseung's expression twists confusedly.

"Your boyfriend?.." He asks, and when you nod, his eyes go dark. "I told you to break up with that asshole ages ago, and now he's hitting you?!"

It's clear Heeseung is upset, but you're not in the mood for the "I told you so" speech. "He didn't mean it... He just got upset.." You defend to which Heeseung sighs, pulling away from you. "Y/n.. Getting upset is no excuse to hit your girlfriend.. You need to end things with him.." He says blatantly and you shake your head. "He loves me.. I know it.."

Heeseung shakes his head at you, rubbing his temples. "He doesn't give a shit about you! As much as I know it'll hurt you, I can't just stand by and watch that fucker ruin you!" He yells and you go quiet, sobbing quietly. "Heeseung.. I love him..."

Something snaps inside him at your words. He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, leaning slightly closer to you. "And I love you..." He reveals, his own eyes glossed over. This is clearly something he's wanted to say for years now, but he didn't imagine it going this way. "Y/n.. I know you only see me as a friend.. But I care so much for you.. I can't watch the girl I love be treated that way by someone who isn't even worthy of her.."

You're still shocked at the question, but you nod regardless. "I didn't know you felt that way.." You mumble as he sighs, letting go of you. "I've like you since the day we met.. Sadly that bastard came along and stole you.."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you..." You apologize as Heeseung sighs. "I'm not mad at you.. You're the victim.. Promise you'll leave him?.." He asks as you nod, pinky promising him.

"Let's get you some dry clothes.."

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i hope this is good I'm not good at semi-angst fics