#to stay out of sight and out of mind for their own safety ??

[eyelessfaces]

ashes to ashes

firefighter!poe dameron x reader

it's been so long since I first announced this fic, I know. loosely inspired by this post. thank you to @ofstarsandvibranium for allowing me to write something based on the concept <3

summary: crawling as you witnessed the fire claiming half of your apartment, the only thing you could think about was how cinematic the whole scene was; half of your life burning down in the night, the blurry sight of pairs of chunky boots walking around your apartment and through the flames, the painful feeling of emptiness in your lungs as you rolled onto your back and fought to catch your breath.

just as you began to feel yourself go, an arm wrapped behind your head, holding it up gently.

warnings: depiction of a fire, post-trauma, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of homelessness, questioning your whole goddamn life, angst, reader has hair

tags: f!reader, obvious firefighter au, slowburn... lol... burn. get it? because of the fire. anyways. mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing

word count: 8.3k

moodboard!

heat me up masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Chicago had the infamous reputation of having harshingly cold winters; that was the promise you had had when you moved there, and as soon as summer faded into fall and instead began to feel like winter, you quickly understood what it was all about, where the myth came from.

And it was okay, in your small apartment at least. 

It was okay whenever the main heating system of the building was working, because it wasn’t always. Surely a small detail your landlord had forgotten to tell you about when you signed the lease. 

Piling up blankets was fine, but that wasn’t the easiest way to stay warm and certainly not your idea of a good winter period.

It was okay again once you made the bright decision of buying a space heater to put in your living room, then it was not okay the night you woke up to the harsh and very distinct smell of smoke because your carpet had caught on fire.

Not exactly the kind of warmth you were expecting.

And it must have been the chemicals, because while down on the floor, crawling as you witnessed the fire claiming half of your apartment, the only thing you could think about was how cinematic the whole scene was; half of your life burning down in the night, the blurry sight of pairs of chunky boots walking around your apartment and through the flames, the painful feeling of emptiness in your lungs as you rolled onto your back and fought to catch your breath.

And just as you began to feel yourself go, an arm wrapped behind your head, holding it up gently.

“Hey, hey. What's your name?” the man shouted loud enough to cover the default slight muffle of his mask and the menacing creaking of flames claiming your space.

You replied in a drowsy, dazed mumble, and it felt like you were on autopilot mode, like your body was acting on his own, your mind not following – you're barely sure of the veracity of what you're saying, and your answer is punctuated by a painful cough.

“Alright, I’m Poe.” he affirmed with a nod before observing and evaluating the behavior of the flames in your apartment. He looked back down at you, his grip on you tightening. “I’m gonna get you out of here okay? Stay with me.” he demanded, cradling the back of your head as you struggled to get air back in your lungs.

You nodded hastily, shutting your eyes tight as he lifted you up, hoping it would make it all better; the reflection of flames in his mask was too painful to see, and you knew seeing all the debris across your apartment would make you faint if you didn’t because of the smoke.

You could only hear the crackling of flames and the distant wail of sirens filling the air as the firefighter stumbled out of there, his grip on you firm yet gentle. You fought to cling to consciousness, trying to focus on the rhythm of his steps as he guided you to safety out of the building.

Your coughs were painful, and the contrast of the fresh cold night air as you got carried outside hit you all at once.

“It's okay, you're out of here, you did amazing” you heard the firefighter say, his voice barely audible to you as you felt yourself go.

The last thing you remember from there is him calling for the medics as a black veil covers your eyes.

—

It takes no time for you to readjust your position in your hospital bed when one of the firefighters pushes the door to your room open.

“Can I?” he asks with a small smile, to which you approve. “How are you feeling?” the man asks as he steps in, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Could be better” you scoff, a coughing fit quickly interrupting you. You try to take a deep breath once you’re done, as the doctor advised you.

“Are you the one that got me out of my apartment?” you manage to ask quietly once you catch your breath, your voice rough.

“Yes” he declares as he approaches, and you squint and read what's written behind his turnout coat as he pulls a chair to sit beside your bed. “You got lucky the fire started in your living room” he continues as he sits down, his lips curling into a small, empathetic smile. He has a handsome face, you can tell now that you can truly and clearly look at the man that saved you. There’s a faint, small scar over his cheek, probably one he got on the field, you guess. His brown eyes are gentle as he looks at you, his gaze somehow consoling, reassuring in some kind of way.

You have no idea what time it is or how long you’ve been there, but he still has some dirt over his face and his dark curls are unkempt, so you figure it might not be that long after it all happened.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Dameron” you croak out, your voice gravelly from coughing so much, and you weakly smile, reaching for the glass of water at your bedside.

“It’s only my duty” he chuckles, revealing an objectively charming smile as he helps and hands you your glass. “The fire started from an electrical problem in your space heater that caused it to short circuit.”

You take a sip of water, taking the information into account. 

“Guess my idea of staying warm backfired,” you joke, with a demoralized smile.

He leans back in his chair, a weak, compassionate smile over his face. "It happens more often than you'd think. People underestimate the risks sometimes. Good thing you made it out okay."

You nod, putting the glass back where it was. “Yeah… I can’t believe half my place is gone.”

“It's tough, but, you know…” he sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Things can be replaced. Lives can't.” His expression is serious but compassionate, and you appreciate his attempt at reassurance, even though the reality of losing most of your belongings and your place is still slowly, painfully sinking in. The room falls into a momentary deafening silence before he breaks it. “We managed to contain the fire, but your apartment took a hit. You'll get through this eventually, it’ll take some time but it's fixable” he declares in a tone both firm and comforting as he runs a hand over the light stubble on his cheeks.

You pinch your lips, your mouth abnormally dry though you just drank water. You shake your head, the knot tightening in your throat.

“Fuck, I have nowhere to go. I have no family here, I won’t get my apartment back before a while, hell, I don’t even know if I want it back” you sigh, reality suddenly hitting you right in the face. A chill runs down your spine as you say it, as if wording it out loud makes it become true.

The Lieutenant shifts in his chair again to lean closer, his hand coming to rest over your wrist.

“We can help you. I will help you.” he nods, searching your gaze. “You can stay in a hotel room while you get it all figured out,” he suggests, trying to cheer you up a bit, showing you the possibilities. “I know a nice hotel downtown, not too expensive, and I’m childhood friends with the manager’s son so you can say you’re coming from me” he smiles, trying to draw one out from you, though he knows damn well that his charming smile can’t do miracles in this job. “We have rehabilitation programs, people usually make it out okay, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. It takes some time, and you’ve gone through a trauma so it’s not easy at first, but I promise you it gets easier.”

You nod, pinching your lips in a small smile as you feel him slightly tighten his grip over your wrist. 

“It’s gonna be okay. I’ve seen people take this as a sign to begin again, an opportunity to start over” he nods again as you look up at him, his brown eyes glistening with a sense of hope that you want to believe in.

“I’ll probably do that. Thank you” you acquiesce, still not fully convinced, though his kindness and sympathy makes it all seem easier somehow. As you look at him, you can't help but wonder about the man behind the firefighter's gear, who he is beyond the guy that rescued you. He smiles gently, getting up from his seat. “And thank you for… You know, saving my life” you smile gratefully. “Really. I don't know how to repay you,” you say genuinely.

“Sure.” he waves off your gratitude. “No need. Just take care of yourself. And maybe consider a safer way to stay warm next time.” he jokes with a grin, but you know it’s lighthearted.

You manage a weak laugh, appreciating the lightness he brings to the whole situation. The gravity of it all is still there in the room and inside you, but the Lieutenant's presence and empathy makes it a bit more bearable.

“Alright, I better get going. If you ever need anything please don’t hesitate to stop by the fire station.” As he stands to leave, he glances back with a warm smile. “And take some rest. You'll be back on your feet soon.”

You nod, a polite and grateful smile over your face.

“Hey,” you call as he reaches for the door handle. He turns back to you, a wondering expression over his face. “What did you say your name was again, Lieutenant Dameron?” 

He smiles warmly, “Poe.” 

—

Poe’s eyes look up from the newspaper as his last name is called by one of his colleagues, followed by a quick gasped “someone for you” with a thumb directed towards the apparatus bay before said colleague leaves.

He tosses the newspaper onto the table his feet are propped onto before he gets up and beelines to the area he’s expected at, looking around for whoever is supposedly here for him until his gaze lays on you, a surprised smile growing over his face.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice echoing across the wide room. “How are you doing?” he asks as he walks over to you.

“Better than last time you saw me,” you start, smiling. “Still trying to figure everything out, it’s a bit exhausting but it has to be done, so” you shrug.

“Mhm,” he nods. “Well, as I said, if you need anything I’ll be happy to help” he suggests, a bright smile over his handsome face framed by neat, wavy dark curls. Now that his face is clean, you truly realize how pretty he looks, and his closely shaven face makes him look a bit younger, a bit more innocent than he did the last time you saw him.

“Thank you Lieutenant” you smile back.

“Oh– Please, call me Poe” he scoffs, waving you off. “You know that’s my name” he teases.

“Alright, Poe.” you oblige. “So, yeah, actually I came here to thank you again, and I brought this” you declare sheepishly, handing him a box wrapped in gift paper.

“Oh” his expression immediately turns into an apologetic one when he looks at what you have in hands. “That’s very kind of you but I can’t accept it,” he shakes his head with a skeptic smile. “Against policy.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I figured” you scoff, looking back at the box in your hands. “I wanted to try just in case” you shrug, defeated.

“Yeah sorry, legally and ethically we can’t accept those kinds of gifts.” he explains. “Someone once tried to write us a generous check, and as appealing as it seemed, we had to turn it down” he chuckles, hands coming to rest over his hips. 

“Wow.” you laugh. “Some people are really grateful huh?”

“I guess” he smiles. “And he’d still insist after I told him I could get fired for accepting the check.” 

“Fired?” you ask. 

“Yeah, money’s nice but I could get fired if they find out” Poe nods.

“Fired?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as a treacherous small smile unwillingly grows over your face.

“Yeah– Oh,” he huffs out a small laugh, before he eventually bursts out into chuckles. “Okay, alright, I get it” he nods, a playful, silly smile over his face. “Yeah, fired, unfortunate for a firefighter, right?” he scoffs, the corner of his eyes softly crinkling as he laughs.

“You get it” you laugh, unable to repress it when he wipes a hand over his face. “Sorry, this is lame.” 

“No, no, I actually never heard this one before–” 

The loud alarm sound cuts him off and resonates through the large room, announcing the units needed for an intervention. “Hah, I’m sorry, I gotta go” he says as you witness his squad rushing to the apparatus bay. “I’ll catch you later maybe, alright?”

“Sure, go do your thing” you pinch a smile, and he gives you back a bright one that makes your stomach flutter and a quick wave before jogging to the truck to quickly change into his intervention clothes.

—

The next time you come back to the station, you make sure it’s with a gift you’re certain he can accept. His face lights up when he sees you coming in, a warm smile plastered over his face.

You see the genuine appreciation in his eyes; even though you had made a good batch, your plate of cookies doesn’t survive for long, Poe’s squad and himself making a feast off of it.

“These are really good.” one of his colleagues babbles, mouth still full of his latest victim. A few poor crumbs are all that’s left off your plate. You smile.

“I’ll take your word for it” you chuckle, reaching to retrieve your empty plate.

“Come on guys, you didn’t even leave her one” Poe reproaches as he watches over you putting back the plastic film to cover the plate.

“You ate most of these Dameron,” another guy of the squad throws accusingly, making the Lieutenant scoff and hold his hands up in surrender. “Okay, alright, sorry” he nods. “They are really good.” he says pointing at you. “Were,” he corrects himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry”

“That’s alright, those were for you” you immediately retort with a dismissive wave of your hand. Poe shoots you a sweet smile that you mirror before your gaze shifts to the clock on the wall to overlook the heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, you're good company but I gotta go” you announce as you stand from your seat, giving him a small smile.

“Thank you for the cookies” one of the firefighters calls out.

“Yeah. You really didn’t have to, thank you again” Poe nods as he follows you, a hand over your shoulder. You nod, a small, sheepish smile over your face at the physical contact. “Really, they’re the best cookies I’ve ever eaten, that's why I gobbled them like a glutton. Sorry again for not letting you have one. Is that your job? Are you like a pastry chef?” he asks with genuine curiosity, facing you as you both stop in your steps.

“Nah, just a hobby,” you affirm with a shake of your head and a wide smile that you can’t seem to repress. “But I’ll take the compliment. And you know, I had to go and borrow my friends’ kitchen to make those cookies, so it was basically teamwork”

“Well, gotta thank those friends too then” he grins. “No but really, they were so good. I’d pay for that” he admits as he tilts his head towards you, an admirative glint in his eyes. 

“Well good, because I need money to get my shit together” you joke. Poe smiles at your joke though it shifts into a genuine empathetic grin that you find adorable. You glance back at the clock when you start to feel the blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah, time to make money, I’m gonna be late to work” you sigh softly.

“Good luck”

“I’m not the one with a high risk job” you scoff. 

He grins and leads you back outside. “You know, we sometimes host charity events here. You could bring some cookies, I guarantee you you could raise a hell lot of money from that. Think about it. We’d let you use the oven here” he grins.

You nod, appreciating the idea. Plus, it’s a reason and occasion to see him again. 

“I will.”

Poe leans against the wall of the firehouse front wall, glancing at you until you're out of sight. He sighs softly when he goes back inside and notices your jacket on the chair.

—

It’s been seven hours; you’re not coming back for it.

His fingers mindlessly run back and forth over the seams of your jacket, his gaze planted towards the pile of paperwork over his desk, waiting to be filled and sent to his superiors.

A couple knocks at his doorframe tear him out of his reverie, eyes darting to Rey standing at the threshold of his office. He greets her with a faint smile as his chair turns to face her, and she frowns as she crosses her arms and leans her side against the doorframe.

“Been watching you, what's wrong?” she asks throwing her chin towards him, and he reacts with a huff from his nose and a shrug. The downside of having a glass windowed office with broken blinds.

“What do you mean what’s wrong” he nonchalantly asks, his voice low, putting your jacket down over his desk.

“You’re leaving this pile of paperwork to rot” she points out, looking at the sheets messily laid out over his desk.

He scoffs, like what she’s saying is complete nonsense. “You know I hate paperwork.”

He does, she knows that, but he hates it so much that he usually does it as soon as he gets it to be over with it, and to avoid procrastinating the daunting task. “I know you do but you usually sit and do it. Here you sat and didn’t do anything” she declares as she watches him slightly turn back and forth in his desk chair. “That’s not like you. You usually can’t stop working one way or another, can’t rest for five minutes.”

“Yeah,” he sighs softly, adjusting his position in his chair.

“This is not me scolding you for taking a breath for once. This is me being worried” she makes clear. Poe doesn’t say anything in return, the blank expression over his face attesting of his lack of concentration. Rey bites down onto her bottom lip, pondering what she could do or say to help her friend out. It’s not like Poe to act so closed off, so quiet, like an empty shell. 

“Is that a new jacket?” she asks, hoping to lift the tension.

“No, not mine” he says as he reaches over to the desk to have the piece of clothing in hands again. “It’s from…” he pauses. “The cookies feast this morning, she left and forgot it”

“Oh”

“I gotta find a way to give it back to her.” he declares mechanically before muttering, “But I don’t know where to find her”

“Well,” Rey lightly clears her throat. “With some luck she will notice soon enough and she’ll come back for it” she shrugs.

“It’s been seven hours”

“People that just lost their place are busy trying to sort things out Poe” she shrugs. “It’s winter and she probably doesn’t have much clothing left. She’ll come back for it”

“It might happen when I’m off shift” Poe mumbles absent-mindedly. 

“So what? Just leave it somewhere everyone can find it, another team will give it to her” Poe closes his eyes and shakes his head, sighing in defeat, and Rey scoffs at the obviousness of it all. Poe is smarter than that, he’s a lieutenant for a reason; something’s not right.

“Oh Poe” Rey scoffs, a scoff of disbelief. She stares at him as he rubs a hand over his eyes, then runs it through his hair. “This is what it's all about isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically, as she already knows it is. “My god… You’re into her” she mutters like she doesn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, admitting it like he’s guilty of something shameful or immoral; but it almost is, in this job. This kind of thing is not supposed to happen, you’re not supposed to fall for a victim. It’s supposed to be a come and go without looking back.

“Look, I’m not opposed to you shooting your shot but–” she halts mid-sentence; she tries to find the right words to say the right thing. “Be careful. You know it’s a touchy subject in our jobs” she pinches her lips in a small, slightly skeptic smile. “Overstepping and everything.” she adds.

“I know” Poe blinks, looking down at your jacket. “I’ll sort this out.”

— 

To be fair, he feels stupid for not thinking about the hotel sooner when he was the one to suggest this place for you to stay at. 

The end of a shift has never felt so long; when he usually finds stuff to do to remain occupied when there’s no intervention, today his mind couldn’t stay off of you. A shift with no major intervention was awfully long already, but it seemed to be so much slower as he looked forward to seeing you.

His knuckles hit the surface of your assigned room in a couple knocks, and your confused expression turns to a bright smile when your door opens to him. His face and ears are slightly flushed from the cold, his dark curls coming out of his beanie, nicely framing his face. “I usually go home and catch up on the sleep I didn't get during my shift but it's cold out there and I figured you wouldn't have brought back a lot of clothes here with you, so I think you'd make good use of this” he smiles, presenting to you your own jacket. 

“Oh” you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest, staring at your jacket neatly folded in his hands as he hands it to you. “Thank you,” you sigh, feeling stupid that you managed to forget it at the firehouse.

He smiles. “Of course.” There’s a brief pause as you stand there, and you look back inside your room, at the mess of cardboard boxes filled with the life you’re actively trying to piece back together. You want to tell him to get inside, but you also need to work on that mess of belongings. You hesitate, wondering what to say when he speaks first. “You need help with that?” he asks, nodding towards the room.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit, huffing out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. “I took your advice and decided to start over by sorting out and giving away or selling stuff I don’t need anymore but there’s a lot. I never realized how much stuff I had in my possession until now” you chuckle. “But I’ll manage. You don’t have to worry. You’ve had a long shift, you should catch up on your sleep” you grin.

He waves a hand dismissively, smirking. “Oh, I’m fine. We take turns sleeping during the shift. You know, as long as you wake up when the alarm goes off…”

The daunting task seems to get so much quicker and easier now that Poe is here to help. Surprisingly enough, it even gets pleasant as you talk and laugh about anything and everything, as he intently listens to you as you reveal stories about the trinkets you discover again. Poe has this natural ability to make you feel like whatever you’re talking about is the most interesting thing in the world.

After a good hour and a half of reorganizing and labeling boxes of what you’re keeping and what you’re getting rid of, you’re finally done and it’s time for him to go. You can’t ignore the slight feeling of disappointment as you watch him put his jacket back on.

“Hey uh,” he trails off, grabbing his beanie resting on the bed. “Technically I’m off work and you’re not a victim anymore so,” he rubs the back of his neck, his dark curls falling slightly into his eyes as he looks at you with a grin. “Would you like to go for a drink or something sometime that week?” Poe intently awaits your response; maybe he’s making a mistake, maybe he’s overstepping. 

You can’t repress the smile that grows over your face, the feeling of delight that fills you at the prospect of seeing him again. “Sure,” you nod. “I’d love to”

Your heart leaps inside your chest as your hands brush when you hand him your phone so he can put his number in, and he feels just the same when he pushes his apartment door to a text from you that reads, 

“thank you for today. I look forward to seeing you again :)”

He can’t help the foolish smile beaming over his face.

—

There’s not much left of your belongings after you give them out to charity and after hours spent throughout multiple days waiting for strangers to pick up the different things they bought from you. 

Some part of you assumes that giving up on your life in Chicago would be easier, that moving states and going back to your family would be more reasonable, until you get back onto your feet at least. 

But you hate it, hate the thought of giving it all up just because your stupid space heater short circuited. 

And maybe it's also because something is holding you back.

You’re at work when a text appears onto your phone screen, forcing you to drop everything you’re doing when you see it’s from Poe. Your heart races inside your chest when you open the conversation and read the message. “hey! still on board to hang out?”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure about which way you should say yes. You settle on “absolutely” and press send.

You try to go back to work while you wait for his response, but the task is compromised because even though you have your ringtone on, you can’t help but check your phone every twenty seconds.

Your phone rings again after what feels like an eternity though in reality, it’s only been two minutes.

“great. I was thinking about going to a bar downtown” 

Another message pops up.

“is it okay if I pick you up at the hotel at 7?”

You take a glance at the time displayed on your computer screen and sigh softly before you reply. “I’m doing extra hours so I get out at 7 :( and I need time to get ready and look somewhat presentable“

Poe’s text comes almost instantly. “hey, no pressure. I’m sure you look just fine”

A foolish smile grows onto your face, and you’re glad he’s not here to see it. 

Another message pops onto the screen.

“I can pick you up at 8 or later if you prefer. or I can pick you up straight out of work at 7 if it makes it easier for you”

You sit and think about it for a moment. It would make it easier for you. You could avoid an extra ride to the hotel.

“I think it does”

You text him the address to your workplace, and the next time you use the office bathroom, you take a moment to make sure you look okay.

The bar is dimly lit by fairy lights strewn all across the ceiling and walls. It casts a soft light over Poe’s face that allows you to admire the faint, dark stubble that is back onto his face again, and you can’t help but look at his teeth when he talks to you; you remember the way they look when he laughs, and the thought makes your stomach flutter and makes you feel like a creep at the same time.

“So, extra hours?” he asks, tearing you out of your reverie before he takes a sip of his half full glass of pina colada. You wince softly. 

“I'm quickly starting to run out of money. You know how insurances are” he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side in agreement. “And I mean, I’m trying to save up because I don’t think I want to go back to my apartment” you explain, an uneasy feeling running through you the moment you start to picture your apartment again, the way it was the last time you had seen it. 

“Yeah, it’s understandable. It’s something we often see.” Poe nods.

“Most people prefer moving out instead of trying to rebuild their home. Too much trauma attached to the place” he affirms, pinching his lips in an empathetic smile.

“Yeah,” you trail off, nervously fiddling with your glass. “And I can’t stay in that hotel room forever. Some friends offered me to stay over at theirs so I’m gonna crash wherever I can until I get back on my feet” 

Poe nods, intently watching you as he swallows another sip of his cocktail before speaking. “Well, you can stay at my place too if you need somewhere to go.” he offers in earnest.

You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping you. “Poe it’s– you don’t have to” 

“No, no, it’s alright” he insists. “Plus, my apartment is empty for twenty four hours when I’m on shift, so you can take advantage of that”

“This is very kind of you but–” you pause, not certain what you want to say. “We met what, three weeks ago, and you’re willing to let me stay at your place?”

He shrugs, an amused smile over his face. “You made me cookies. You’re trustworthy”

You laugh wholeheartedly, and the sight brings a wide smile to his face. 

“Okay, well, thank you” you huff out, and he grins before taking a sip of his drink. “I won’t bother you much, I’m working extra hours anyways.” 

“Oh and also, you’ll have to let me cook for you when you’re there” 

He raises his hands in fake surrender, a content expression over his face. “If you insist”

—

You’ve established some kind of routine based on a rotation; half a week at someone’s place, the other half at someone else’s. That way, weeks seem to go by quite fast.

Being at work is the only sense of normalcy you can find since those past few months; it’s pretty depressing when you think about it, but it might also be a good thing considering how much time you have to spend at the office doing extra hours just to gather enough money to try find that sense of normalcy back in your life.

You sigh softly as you knock at Poe’s door and set down your suitcase of necessities while you wait for him to answer; you’re endlessly thankful for your friends allowing you to leave your boxes of belongings in their home office instead of having to haul them around or pay for storage. 

“Hey you” Poe greets when he opens the door, a dishcloth in hand as he wipes them clean. You smile at the sight of him wearing an olive green apron, and you walk in when he makes way for you to. You look around the wide place that actually resembles a loft, the place dimly lit and filled with the smell of food cooking, and just that scent is enough for you to be striked with a stomach rumble. 

“Smells good” you affirm, forcing a small smile through your tiredness. “I was the one supposed to cook though, remember?”

“It’s your first time at my place, I have to be a good host” he huffs out, hands placed at his hips. “And I wanted to try this new recipe” he declares, motioning for you to follow him.

You follow his steps, acknowledging the space around you. “Actually it's perfect cause I'm exhausted” you admit in a small sigh.

“Good thing I planned on pampering you tonight then” he grins. 

He was in no way lying about that. 

Poe pulls your chair for you like a gentleman and makes you sit down, absolutely refusing you help him set the table or help him in any other way. 

He finally sits down in front of you after serving your plates and pouring you something to drink, wishing you bon appetit before you both start to eat. 

You listen attentively as he tells you about the interventions of his past few shifts, taking your sweet time to savor his dish from how good it is; you wouldn’t have suspected him to be that good of a cook.

Then suddenly, Poe trails off, his face dropping when he sees you're crying. “Hey,” he calls softly, getting up from his seat to join you. “What’s wrong?” he kneels down in front of you, his gaze raking over your face painted in tears.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst I've felt in months” you chuckle through quiet sobs, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “And I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, I have no idea what I should do” you shake your head. Poe watches you intently while you try to avoid looking at him, afraid of what he could think. You’re just the poor girl he saved that lost everything, after all. “Sorry, I don’t know why it’s all coming out now. I’m not even drunk” you apologize, drying your tears with the back of your hand. “And I know some people you rescue have it so much harder than me, but even this, somehow… It feels insurmountable” 

“Hey,” he takes your hand in both of his, stopping you from tearing at the loose seams of your shirt. You feel stupid for breaking down like this in front of him, feel stupid for feeling so lost. “Just because people go through worse doesn’t mean your struggles are not legitimate” he affirms, one of his hands coming to rest over your arm. His other hand soothingly rubs the back of yours, and your tears-filled eyes finally meet his.

“Having to rebuild a life from scratch is a pretty tough thing, but I promise you it eventually gets better” he nods. “And you’re doing great so far. You’re motivated. It's a good thing. There isn't much you can do but wait until it gets better”

His eyes are gentle, his touch soft, and something inside you slowly starts to ease. 

You want to believe it, you want to believe it’s going to get easier, but right now, you can’t seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I know. But– I’ve been thinking about leaving Chicago.” you admit in a mutter. It hurts to say it, hurts to picture it, but deep down you know it’s probably the solution and the right decision.

“Oh– okay,” he mumbles softly, his voice dropping slightly. You look him in the eyes, before looking down at your lap again, a weak, saddened smile tugging at your lips.

“What you said about starting over… Maybe this is it. Maybe that’s what I need. There’s not much left here for me” you say, swallowing a sob. 

The urge to burst in tears gets violent again, and just like he can sense it, Poe squeezes your hand and gets you onto your feet so you can crash into him and break into sobs while he wraps his arms around you.

— 

You shift in your sleep and your mind screams at you to wake up; something feels off. The bed is too unfamiliar, too big, too comfortable. 

Because you’ve never been there before. 

It somehow simultaneously takes you ages and no time for you to realize you’re in Poe’s bed. 

You sit up, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, pushing the blanket away. You don’t remember coming to bed.

The last thing you remember is talking and watching a few The Office episodes with Poe on his couch, wrapped in one of his blankets. 

You hear the faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen, and you push yourself out of bed to go there. The wide space is filled with the smell of coffee and Poe is standing by the stove, flipping pancakes, dressed in the same clothes as last night, just like you are. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and gives you that easy smile that makes your stomach flutter.

“Morning,” he greets you, his voice warm. “Got your beauty sleep?”

You chuckle, rubbing your face. “Yeah, about that, you didn’t have to leave me your bedroom.”

Poe shrugs, turning to flip another pancake. “C’mon, it’s fine. It was part of my plan already anyway.”

You scoff and join him, leaning against the counter beside him. “I was already on the couch, I bet it would have been easier to leave me here than to drag me to your bed”

“You deserved a better night's sleep after the day you had.” he turns the stove off and looks at you. “I carried you out of a building in fire, remember? This was nothing” he smiles softly, handing you the plate of pancakes. You take it, and he gently rests a hand over your shoulder as he walks past you to pour you both a cup of coffee and hand one to you. "Besides, you’ve been through enough. A comfy bed is the least I can do sweetheart”

You take a sip of your coffee, savoring its warmth, but his words cut deeper than they probably should. There’s something so natural about the way he’s taken you into his space, about the way he looks out for you. 

It’s comforting, and maybe that’s what scares you the most. 

You haven’t brought last night’s conversation up again, and neither has he, but you can feel it there between the two of you. 

The possibility of leaving Chicago feels more real every time you think about it, and yet, being here with Poe makes the idea of leaving seem that much harder.

—

Poe is seated at his desk, locked in onto a pile of paperwork when a soft knock sounds from the doorframe. 

He glances up and it's Snap leaning casually against the door with a mischievous grin. 

"Your girlfriend’s here," Snap mouths teasingly as he points behind him; Poe rolls his eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

Snap steps aside, making room for you to enter the room. You flash him a quick, grateful smile before he leaves and before you step inside the office. Poe rises from his seat to greet you with a warm hug, one that feels natural after how close you've grown those past few weeks. The installed routine of crashing at his place every other week has deepened your relationship, turning it into something that feels comfortable, familiar.

“How’s your day going?” you ask, leaning against the wall.

“Busy, but nothing I can’t handle,” Poe replies, shrugging with a grin. “How about you? What brings you here? Missed me?” he grins playfully, and it widens when you huff out a laugh.

“I actually came to tell you some good news.” you take a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. “I got an update about my apartment.”

Poe’s eyebrows lift in curiosity as he steps a little closer. “Oh? What’s going on?”

You can’t help but smile. “Since it’s uninhabitable for now, and because I’m not responsible for the fire, I’m getting my deposit back– and insurance is going to cover a pretty decent amount.”

Poe’s face breaks into a wide grin. “See? I told you so!” he says, his voice full of genuine happiness, as his hand rests lightly over your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. There’s relief in his tone too as things are finally looking up for you.

You pause for a moment  before adding, “So…” you grin, tentatively. “I’ve decided to stay in Chicago.” 

Poe’s eyes light up at the news. “Really?” he asks, his voice a little breathless, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah,” you huff out a small laugh, nodding. “Actually, I came here because I was in the neighborhood looking at an apartment. It’s a bit cramped, but it’s all I can afford right now. And, hey, it’s better than nothing.” you shrug. “And… it’s like a seven-minute walk to the firehouse,” you add with a grin.

Poe smirks, “So, you’re gonna bring me cookies every day?”

“Obviously,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna have to exercise at least twice as much because of you.” he grins, placing a quick affectionate kiss on your cheek. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Poe,” you murmur softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

He hugs you back and holds you tight for a moment longer, the embrace a silent acknowledgment of everything you’ve been through together, how far you've come since you met– this could have happened in a better context but somehow, some part of you is glad it had to be him you stumbled onto.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re strong. You’ve been handling this like a champ.” he nods with a proud smile.

You smile back, still holding onto him. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Poe chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes rake over your face, from your eyes down to your mouth before he stops lingering and pulls away. "Come on," he says, stepping back and motioning for you to follow him. "I’m gonna introduce you to everyone."

The sound of chatter and laughter fills the room where the rest of the crew is gathered. Poe introduces you to his colleagues and friends, and as you chat with everyone, you feel a sense of belonging and acceptance like you’ve known them for ages.

—

The new year passes around and January takes place quicker than you realize; sleeping on your friends couches is starting to take a toll on your back, so you’re barely able to keep a facade and hide your excitement when you finally get the keys to your apartment and when Poe and your friend Jay haul your brand new sofa bed up the narrow stairwell of the building.

“Where is it going?” Jay asks, short of breath after struggling to angle the piece of furniture to fit your doorframe. 

“Right there,” you point, and your other friends quickly push the cardboard boxes aside to make way for Jay and Poe as they transport and set the sofa down.

It’s the first time in months that things feel real, that you feel like you’re moving forward again. The apartment is small – really small – but it's yours and that fact alone is enough to make you feel relieved.

Your cramped space is a mess of half-unpacked boxes, random piles of bubble wrap, and stacks of furniture pieces waiting to be assembled. 

Your friends each have their own tasks, helping in various ways; Olivia starts assembling your coffee table, grumbling under her breath about missing screws, while Poe puts together your dining table with a look of concentration.

You're tucked away in a corner, hunched over a cardboard box labeled kitchen, sorting through utensils and plates. Your friend Sam joins you, taking out mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. She looks over at Poe, who’s working on screwing a table leg into place with the help of Mike, then she leans in a little closer to you, her voice lowering in that teasing way she does when she’s trying to stir something up.

“Your firefighter boyfriend is cute,” she grins. Your grip instinctively tightens on the pile of plates you’re holding, afraid you’re going to drop it at any moment.

“He's not– we're friends” you scoff, trying to play off though you can’t deny your heart rate going up. 

Sam gives you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows dramatically. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me there isn’t something there. I’ve seen the way you look at each other."

You feel your cheeks heat up instantly, a wave of nervousness rising in your chest even though you can’t really bring yourself to argue. Poe and you– there’s always been something there, you know that, it's painfully obvious. But putting it into words, admitting it out loud? 

"I don’t know," you finally say, your voice quieter now. "I mean, yeah, he’s amazing. I just… it’s complicated. I haven't really had the time to think about it that way” you shrug, taking a glance at him. 

"Look, I’m just saying, if you’re not interested, maybe I’ll ask him out." she shrugs nonchalantly though her grin attests of her playful tone.

"Very funny, Sam."

She chuckles as she pats your arm, obviously enjoying your flustered reaction. "Just think about it. You two have that vibe, you know?” she insists, putting away the cardboard box she’s unloading now that it’s empty. “Whenever you're ready to admit it, just know I'm rooting for you."

You roll your eyes, though the smile on your face betrays you. 

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think too deeply about it– about him. It had been much easier to push that aside and focus on practical things, like getting through each day, finding a place to live, and piecing your life back together.

—

Your apartment empties after getting filled and reaching a state that starts to make it feel like a home; your friends progressively leave until Jay and Sam are the last to, each giving you a hug at the door and congratulating you on the new place.

"You owe us dinner for all this labor," Sam jokes as she steps out, winking at you as she heads down the stairs. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching her go before closing the door behind them.

A small sigh leaves you when you turn back and look around the place that is significantly quieter now. Poe is still sitting on the floor, carefully tightening one last screw to your dining table to make sure it’s secured. “Okay,” he groans softly as he stands up, wiping his hands over his jeans. “Should be good”

“Thank you” you say softly, standing against the counter.

He gives you a modest shrug as he puts the screwdriver down on the table. “It’s nothing.” he smiles, stepping closer until he’s standing beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. 

You both proudly admire the place you have spent the last few hours furnishing – it’s small, but it’s just enough for you alone there, and at least now you won’t have to rely on a space heater to survive Chicago’s cold.

You feel Poe look at you, truly look at you, feel the warmth of his gaze lingering over you. You feel it so clearly that it makes you blatantly aware of how close you are, how intimate it feels to be here, in your apartment, alone with him.

You glance over at him and he smiles, his expression softening as his hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of your hair away from your face; the touch is so tender that it sends a shiver through your spine. “I’m glad you decided to stay.” 

His confession makes your heart flutter, and a tired smile tugs at your lips. “I am too.” you admit, fully turning to him. “And thank you again. Not just for this. For everything”

He shrugs, his face twisting in a grimace. “You’d have managed just fine, even without me”

You tilt your head to the side in disagreement. “I would have been roasted chicken without you, if you remember. So thank you. I mean it” 

He breaks into a laugh, rich and warm, shaking his head. His laughter is so contagious you can’t help the wide smile that grows onto your face. “Okay, maybe I saved you once. But, anytime,” he nods, his voice softer now, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "You know that, right?" 

You find yourself nodding, scarily aware of how fast your heart is pumping inside your ribcage. You swallow as his gentle eyes rake over your face, your own gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes. 

“I know,” you whisper, your breath cutting short like you’re out of air. Somehow, all nervousness escapes you when his fingers drift to gently grasp your chin, ever so slightly angling it towards him.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s giving you the option to pull away if you wanted to; you don’t, there’s nothing you’ve been wanting more since you met him.

You lean in, meeting him halfway as his lips press softly against yours, tentatively. Your hands instinctively find their way to rest over his chest, and you sigh into the kiss when you feel the fast beating of his heart under your palm, the comforting warmth of him beneath your fingers. 

It’s not rushed or hurried – it’s like this action is a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of everything that has been left unsaid between the both of you for the past few weeks– hell, months.

The drunken smile over his lips as he pulls away has you going for another kiss; he pulls you even closer, his hands finding your hips, gently resting there. 

His forehead rests against yours when your lips grow apart, your arms wrapping around his neck when he nuzzles your cheek. “I should get going,” he whispers reluctantly, his hands still on your hips.

There’s a moment of silence– You swear you could almost hear the snow falling outside. “Really?” you finally ask, your voice teasing.

“Nah” he murmurs, and you both laugh softly as he pulls you closer, his arms fully wrapping around you.

—

please note that I'm planning on extending this universe just because I love it so much, I love them so much and I had so much fun writing this, so there will be more stuff linked to this one shot and you can request drabbles, headcanons or whatever you'd like about this AU!

people that wanted to be tagged in this (it was so long ago you probably forgot about this, sorry): @steven-grants-world @faretheeoscar @minigirl87 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @spectorslut

@lunar-ghoulie @ineffablewifes @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @thatwonderouswoman

poe dameron taglist:

@lockleysgrl @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings

@mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem  @friedwings

@luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96

@unear7hly @pigeonmama

[muu-kun]

Speaking of fashion, I will eventually have the appropriate amount of time to dedicate myself to a proper attire headcanon post. For now, I only have examples for silhouettes pertaining to dresses gathered. Which at this point can ultimately be narrowed down in explanation as Muu holding preference for a bodice that does not require even just a modest breast size.

Although he does wear bralettes (which is not out of gender dysphoria or euphoria on any account actually. Instead, it is more so like a running joke with himself at this point due to the fact he's actually had an infatuation with wearing them since he was a sixteen year old boy that found a bra lying in the street) he doesn't do so with the intent of applying padding to them-- especially when considering the fact he has some minor gynaecomastia due to stubbornly persistent baby fat going on. He can deal with those, but he definitely doesn't want to even so much as imply he has "real breasts."

He also isn't one to gravitate towards those built around the necessity for breasts due to the fact that he does not wish for the attire adorning his body to appear as though something (or somethings) is missing. Which is also the given reason why even in his decision to wear what is considered women's underwear underneath the dresses similar to above, he does not engage in the act of tucking. Yes, that does come within treacherous territory per the fact that he is then advertising himself as a flamboyantly youthful individual with an occasionally visible (and not incredibly well endowed, mind you) genitalia outline in his attire. That's not even to mention the detectability of his disabilities on establishing conversation with him.

Beyond that, he's not too partial to much else. Length and material is otherwise irrelevant as long as he can freely move within it to accommodate an in-between active and sedentary lifestyle. He would also best appreciate those that are not overwhelming to the senses in one manner or another-- this includes itchiness, heaviness, lack of breathability, and so on. Textures usually aren't too worrisome to him, however, as he has been raiding the closet of his female friends (such as Hannah of @kannojo predominantly) for years, so by now he knows what he does and doesn't like with enough ease that even unexpectedly finding something is unappealing to him van be easily remedied without any fit.

The bottom line with all of this is while Muu strictly wears what is primarily marketed as women's clothing, he does not do so out of the desire to be a woman. In fact, he's asked that question within himself many times only to come up with the same conclusion each time: He is simply an aged up boy caught up in having to navigate too many things at once, therefore eccentricities intended to lighten his load have transpired. Being that 99% of abusers have been men throughout the years, and women his sanctuary from them, it became sensible at some point for him to cease one struggle for favor of mirroring his safety while he sources through another. Muu has no idea even how to be a person yet, let alone a gendered one.

That is also not to say he wishes to abolish entirely in favor of utilizing they/them pronouns. In fact, it still remains quite the opposite. At this time in his life, he's not looking to be othered more than he always has acquired for himself. Being gridlocked into a perpetual state of regression in his present has been isolating enough as is that he doesn't wish for more beyond that. It also has intriguingly been almost beneficial in keeping some of his identity centered, though, as being so interwoven with his inner teen provides connection with the perspective of character held back then.

When he was sixteen, he was very self assured in nearly all aspects in life until led to second guessing the bulk of them. Of those is one of which where he was well adamant that he was a boy with a preference for he/him pronouns to demonstrate that. And while he's been able to find appreciation for femininity that he'd have otherwise mocked in his youth, that is as far as it goes for the time being. Working beyond the semantics of that just isn't on the table at this time in his life.

Where he might go with it during Pride Month is still up to him, but, really, his focus is far more centered on fulfilling and answering other aspects of his person at this time. Generalized comfort and safety are of the utmost importance to his emotionally led manner of living. Once that is established, whether or not he opts for reintroducing what is considered men's attire back into his wardrobe is completely up in the air.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 2

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not. Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3

Chapter Summary: You're anxious before your date.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.1k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You loved working at the flower shop. Putting together beautiful arrangements and bringing joy to others made you happy. But today, the morning after that stranger showed up in your home, you weren’t fully alert as you went about your tasks. The air around you felt different, thicker. Flipping through the order book, you attempted to look busy instead of walking around in a haze.

Whenever you began to focus, your mind would drift back to Bucky Barnes and your upcoming date. You hadn’t told Addison or anyone else about it because what could you tell them? How could you explain your situation?

You hadn’t even slept in your own bed thanks to that man.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed seated on the couch once Bucky left your place. You’d have to move eventually, but you were replaying what happened in your head like a song on repeat and tried to make sense of it. A man broke into your home, but didn’t steal anything. Held you in his lap, but didn’t violate you.

No, that last part wasn’t true. That was exactly what he did. He violated your safety. And demanded a date with you.

You jerked when your phone dinged, but your heart only pounded faster when you saw a message from a new contact.

Bucky.

“I wish I could’ve stayed the night, but I’ll dream about you and count down the minutes until our date. Don’t forget about your gifts.”

He knew the date was on because how could you say no?

Your stomach dropped as you glanced down the hall. Wiping the remaining tears away, you got to your feet and cautiously made your way toward your bedroom. You weren’t expecting anyone to be there, but who knew what he did while you were at work? And what if he came back?

Would you scream for help or call the police?

“Just go in,” you whispered.

Pushing the door open with a shaky hand and flipping on the light, everything looked normal as you looked around and approached the bed. Everything except the garment and gift bag in the middle of it. They taunted you, daring you to look inside. At the very least, to read the small card on top of the bag.

You caught a small whiff of the cologne he wore as you picked it up and read the single statement.

“This is just the beginning, doll.”

The card slipped from your shaky hand. It would’ve been romantic under normal circumstances. You looked inside the gift bag next, but it did nothing to calm your nerves. Not only was it your favorite perfume as he stated, but it was the largest size available.

You unzipped the garment bag after and gasped at the sight of the dress. It was from a designer you admired, but could never afford. Simple yet beautiful in design, you had to stop yourself from running your hand over the fabric. Yes, it was a beautiful dress and it was just the right size.

But it came with strings attached.

“How?”

You half expected to see a blinking light when your eyes darted to the corners of your bedroom, but everything still looked ordinary. Nothing looked out of place. It didn’t stop your skin from crawling at the thought of him watching you. Because how did he know your size and the kind of perfume you liked? That you liked having a glass of wine when you took a bath? The password to your phone?

How did he know anything about you?

That was perhaps one of the most terrifying aspects about your ordeal: He was clearly powerful and connected, yet you didn’t know exactly what he was capable of or how far he’d go.

It took you a minute to type back a message to him. “Thank you for the gifts.”

A response came back almost immediately. Was he waiting by his phone for you? “Like I said, it’s just the beginning. I have another gift waiting for you, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for that one. It’s a surprise.”

You suddenly didn’t like surprises.

Could you accept gifts wrapped in pretty bows if it meant keeping those you cared about safe? Would you be a living doll to satisfy whatever craving he had that led him to you? At the very least, you’d have to play along for one night to try and get some answers.

“I’m sure it’ll be a nice surprise. Good night.” You sent, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you be.

“Sweet dreams.”

Grabbing a blanket, you made your way back to the living room and curled up in your oversized chair. There wouldn’t be any sweet dreams. Not tonight. Not with the way your mind raced.

Because who the hell was Bucky Barnes and why did he want you?

The bell over the door rang, pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you that you had a job to do. You blinked as a tall man with golden hair and bright blue eyes walked in. A new customer from what you gathered, and an intimidating one at that. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you exhaled once he smiled in your direction.

“Hi,” you said, closing your book. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to get some flowers for my girl,” he replied, the deep timbre gentle yet commanding. “No special occasion or anything. I just want to surprise her.”

A smile touched your lips. “That’s one of the best reasons to get someone flowers,” you said. You liked to imagine your future husband would get you flowers just because he felt like it. “Does she have a favorite?”

“Tulips,” he answered without hesitation. “Any color as long as they’re tulips.”

You stepped around the corner and led him to the premade arrangements. “We have this multicolored bouquet that she may like. Brightens the room and has an uplifting aroma.”

The gentleman reached out to touch one of the petals before he nodded. “She’ll love them,” he said more to himself than to you.

He sounded like a man in love.

“I’m sure she will,” you agreed, carefully carrying it to the counter so you could ring it up. Your skin prickled when you felt his eyes on you, but you told yourself to relax. This guy wasn’t like Bucky. You were paranoid after last night and he was likely watching just to make sure you didn’t drop the bouquet. “Will this be all for you?”

“Which one is your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You repeated as he waited for your response. The question surprised you, but you nodded to one of the recent arrangements you made. “It’s hard to choose a favorite, but I like stargazer lilies.”

You sometimes brought arrangements home for yourself since you couldn’t remember the last time anyone got you flowers.

“I’ll take those, too,” he said, going to get the vase himself. “I really appreciate your help.”

“It was nothing,” you smiled, ringing up the order. “And you made my job very easy, so thank you.”

“Your partner must feel very lucky to have you,” he said before you paused.

Biting your tongue, you stopped yourself from correcting him. You didn’t have a partner. A possible stalker? Yes.

His brows furrowed as he quietly paid. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You shook your head and put your best customer service smile back on your face. “No apologies. I actually have a first date tonight. Maybe he’s the one,” you told him, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. “I hope your girl enjoys her flowers.”

He smiled back as he took the bouquets and receipt. “Me, too,” he said, something sparkling in his eye when he added, “Good luck on your date.”

The blonde left without another word, leaving you to grip the counter and wonder how the hell you were going to get through your evening.

You stood in front of your bedroom mirror hours later, admiring yourself in the dress. It fit you well. Beautifully, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You spritzed yourself with the perfume too. Might as well use it since Bucky was likely expecting it.

The scent should’ve brought a smile to your face instead of tears to your eyes.

“Hey! Still on for hanging out tomorrow?” Addison messaged you as you checked the time on your phone.

You blinked the tears away and realized you hadn’t messaged her once today. You were afraid to. If you mentioned Bucky, it would tempt you to spill what happened since you hardly kept anything from your best friend. And if you told her what happened…

Bucky would know.

With a shudder, you messaged her back. “Yep! See you then.”

The tension in your body skyrocketed when your doorbell rang at 7pm, right down to the second. “Be right there!” You called, shoving your phone in your clutch before you took one last look in the mirror. What did it matter if you looked good or not? It was a forced date.

You exhaled as you opened the door and froze when you saw Bucky standing on the other side. You foolishly thought he wouldn’t show, but luck wasn’t on your side. The sharp, dark suit he wore and air of confidence he carried had your heart pounding in your chest. The glove covering his left hand somehow worked with the suit.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his gaze sweeping over you. Why did he look at you like you were something to be desired? “You are so beautiful.”

Butterflies filled your stomach despite your fear. If only he had approached you and asked you out like a normal guy. “Thanks,” you whispered, locking the door once you were in the hall.

Did he have your spare key or did he find a way to get a copy?

“I wore this suit to match your dress,” he said, giving you an expectant look.

The guy was actually fishing for a compliment. “And you look very handsome,” you said, a smile lighting up his face.

“Thanks.” He held his arm out, satisfaction filling his eyes when you took it. “I’m glad you said ’yes’ to this date.”

“I’m sure you would’ve found a way to convince me if I didn’t,” you told him, reminding yourself that accepting this kept your loved ones safe and sound.

“I would have,” he agreed, keeping you close as he led you outside to where a luxury car was waiting. The car likely cost more than what you made in a year. “But you saved me the trouble by agreeing like the good, smart girl I know you are.”

You didn’t thank him for the “compliment”.

Bucky didn’t wait for the driver to open the door, grabbing the handle and helping you inside himself. You slid across the seat and tried to keep your dress from riding up as he got in beside you. He didn’t allow you any breathing room as the glass partition went up and the car took off. You were alone with him.

He could do whatever he wanted.

“You can sit in my lap if you’d like,” he said to break the silence. “It’s nice and comfortable.”

“No thanks,” you said, glancing ahead at the glass when he took your hand. You’d been in his lap the night before and that was more than enough. “Doesn’t seem safe.”

“You can sit here after dinner then,” he suggested, smirking when you glanced out of the corner of your eye.

Your stomach turned at that. He mentioned it took everything in him not to drag you to bed. You believed him. How long would he hold out before he tried to make a move?

“Sorry I didn’t text you today. I didn’t want to bother or overwhelm you while you were working,” he continued, kissing each of your knuckles as you stared straight ahead again. “At least not right away.”

“How considerate of you,” you muttered.

He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your hand before he held it in his lap. You stiffened and for a moment you thought he’d put your palm to his crotch. You weren’t sure what to expect from him.

“Look. I want tonight to be good for both of us. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’ll do my best to give you answers,” he said, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear as he addressed the elephant in the room. “I know a lot about you, but I imagine you don’t know much about me.”

“No, I don’t,” you admitted. As tempted as you were to look up his name, you refrained and couldn’t put your finger on why. “If I ask you questions, will you lie to me?”

“I have no reason to lie.” He brought a gloved hand to your cheek and forced you to meet his gaze. Even in the dark of the car, you could see the want in his eyes. “I want you to trust me.”

Trust the man with zero respect for boundaries? Could you do that? “Addison’s bachelorette party was a month ago. Was that really the first time you saw me?”

“It was. Everything changed when I saw you,” he replied, moving his hand from your face down to your neck. Like he just had to touch you. “Though it didn’t take a month to track you down, it did give me time to do my research and find out everything I could about you. Where you live, where you work, your interests, your routine. I like to be thorough.”

You turned your head away when it began to spin, trying to understand how he sounded so casual in his admittance to stalking you. You also couldn’t keep looking into those blue eyes. They would drown you.

What you wanted to ask was if he was watching you in your home. But trapped in that small space with him, what if his answer freaked you out more? He said he wouldn’t hurt you, but would he keep that promise?

The question that came out instead was, “And you just decided during that time that you wanted me?”

Your eyes shut as his lips touched your ear. “I wanted you the moment I saw you,” he whispered, making you shiver at the feel of his breath. “And the more I learned about you, the more you pulled me in. I’m just a moth drawn to your flame. And you’re exactly who I want by my side.”

His words washed over you, wearing you down like a stone sinking in the water. It was too much. Too intense. “Where are we going?”

“Mmm. Our date.” You exhaled when his fingers brushed along your arm. “I thought about renting out a restaurant or taking you away to an island for our first date. Something intimate and private. Then I thought, what’s more intimate and private than my penthouse?”

“Your penthouse?” You asked, opening your eyes.

“Yeah, my home,” he smiled, either not noticing or caring when your eyes rounded. “It’s the best spot in town, of course. Can’t beat the view. And we don’t need any eavesdroppers now, do we?”

Your heart sank as you reached for your phone. People would at least be able to see you in a public place, but his home? That was like going into the heart of a lion’s den. It would be so easy to message Addison or Dana and ask for some sort of help without giving too many details. You could-

Bucky took the phone from your hand and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “You won’t need that tonight,” he stated, something in his calm tone telling you not to argue. “I have a chef preparing dinner and a dessert and I selected a nice bottle of wine for us to share. I also want to give you a tour after the meal since it’s going to be your home sooner or later.”

You choked on your next breath. “It’s what?”

“We’re here,” he smiled, terror gripping you when the car stopped in an underground parking garage. “You can ask me more questions inside.”

“Bucky, did you say this is going to be my home?” You pressed as he helped you out, having to rush to keep up with him as he pulled you to an elevator.

You hoped that wasn’t the gift he wanted to surprise you with tonight.

“Not right away, but yes. My place is a bit safer than yours and it’s close to my club and your shop. A win-win,” he said, scanning a key card before the doors opened. “Don’t look so surprised. Most couples live together.”

You refrained from telling him that you weren’t a couple. “I think that’s moving a bit too fast,” you said, your voice cracking as he pulled you inside, keeping you right beside him even though there was plenty of space to be apart. “This is only our first date,” you added, not wanting to upset him.

“That’s why I said it wouldn’t be right away,” he teased, pressing the button for the top floor as his other hand rubbed your hip. “But soon.”

You kept your breathing under control as the elevator climbed higher. The man had your future mapped out and you had only known him for a day. Was this some sick, elaborate game that he was playing to scare the hell out of you? Or had he convinced himself that this was romantic?

“I hope you like it,” he said softly as you stepped out together and walked toward a man who stood by the door. He was just as large as Bucky, but didn’t dare make eye contact with you as he opened the door and let you in.

The spacious entrance opened up to a large living space with high ceilings and marble floors. It was admittedly gorgeous and you hadn’t seen the rest of the place yet. But that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the flowers in the middle of the table a few feet in front of you.

The coy smile on Bucky’s face made your blood freeze when you faced him. “Those are your favorite, aren’t they?” He asked.

They weren’t just your favorite flowers.

It was the same arrangement of stargazer lilies you sold to the blonde gentleman earlier today.

“I told you, doll. I know everything about you,” he began as the clutch fell from your hand and the door shut with a heavy thud. “And I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Zero chill, lovelies. What's the surprise he has for you? How will this date go? And did you like the appearance from the man in the shop? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[dcxdpdabbles]

Congratulations! It's Triplets. Part 3

@unadulteratedsoulsweets said: In Congratulations! It's triplets! As much the entire thing is so wholesome I wanna see some bit of angst. Imagine dis the entire family is out in public.Includes the Batfam, Jazz and the triplets for a huge family bonding activity. Some random person( a karen) commented on how Jazz is a teen mother, an irresponsible person, a whore... Etc (you know the usual comments of being a mother too young) and the Batfam reaches the conclusion that the Pit Rage transfers onto the kids as two of the triplets have already green glowing eyes with rage filling it by the second and ready to tackle/punch the person who made the comment but the last of the triplets have their other "siblings" by their collar but despite holding the two back they too have their eyes switching from blue to eery toxic green and was one second to join them to murder whomever bad mouthed Jazz

It's not that Jason didn't think that the Pit would only have repercussions in his life. He just always assumed it would only be his life.

He never considered the possibility that it would affect his offspring in any way. (Besides having a father that was completely mad in Pit Rage)

Maybe it was a pipe dream to think that or maybe it was just having hope that his messed up second life had already been hard enough so the universe was going to give him a break on this one.

The three small children currently growling at a reporter, eyes flashing in and out of green, told him that wasn't the case.

It had started off as a fun little day out. Jazz and the kids mainly kept to themselves in Wayne Manor. Bruce had housed them in the west Annex, a place usually only used when guests of high importance would stay in the Manor's history.

It came complete with its own kitchen, bathroom, sitting room, seven bedrooms, and three bathrooms. It even had its own entrance that usually stayed out of sight of the main gate- a compelling feature for Jazz, who didn't want her kids in the limelight until everything legal was settled.

The distance between the two buildings was one acre, giving the family of four the privacy they needed and keeping them close for Jason to get to know.

As far as Jason knew, Jazz had not revealed the father of her children to anyone.

As far as the world knew, Jazz had recently moved to temporary housing until her insurance could help her rebuild her house or, if she was at a total loss, find new housing.

Thankfully, no one thought it strange as they weren't the only ones displaced. Poison Ivy's latest Save the Earth stunt targeted overpopulated neighborhoods guilty of destroying the land to build upon (in her own words).

She returned the favor and broke down the buildings to give back to the Green. Never mind the people inside the buildings or the livelihoods she destroyed in progress.

Ivy had gone through five streets before the Bats stopped her and returned her to Arkham Asylum.

It's been a week since the incident. Jason hasn't seen much of his kids, not for the lack of trying, but it was hard to fit their schedules. The three were in school most of the day, and when they got out, Jason usually had to run to prepare his "nightly" job.

He couldn't just slack off- doing so would mean those scum bags that didn't directly work for Red Hood would think that they could get away with breaking his rules.

He had slowly been dividing his responsibilities among his men- drug dealing, weapon dealing, illegal car races, prostitution, and protecting kids and street workers- so that he could have one night off without worrying.

That didn't mean he didn't see his kids at all. Jason usually had two hours a day with them, where he tried his best to connect to his kids, but the triplets seemed weary of him.

He could tell they didn't feel comfortable with him invading their space, so he tried to stay outside the annex. As someone who worked a lot with street kids, he knew never to break the sense of safety their hiding holes were to them.

Instead, he decided to meet his children in the open space between the Annex and the Manor.

The four-five with Jazz casually reading on the Annex floating balcony. Jason pretended not to notice she was doing so to keep an eye on her kids- would sit down at the garden table to have an after-school snack, enjoying the multiple rose bushes nearly as tall as him that Alfred cared for.

It was always one of Jason's favorite Wayne gardens because it often made him think of magical castles with giant mazes and lovely scattered flowers.

He noticed that his eldest- Dan- might have felt the same, given how the boy would sometimes spread his arms and run through the rose bushes pathways. He even picks up sticks and plays knights against invisible enemies.

(Jason pretended he was a knight in these gardens when Bruce first took him in.)

Danny, his second, seems more interested in lying underneath the rose bushes and reading about the stars. If Gotham had clearer skies, he think his boy would be a cat napping in the sunlight and sitting around at night to glance at the starlights.

His daughter seemed even more adventurous than her brothers. She often would test Jazz's patience because she wandered away from the Annex garden to explore the others. Jason had seen her climb statues and trees to get a better viewpoint, marking whatever she saw on a little map.

He got a look at her map and felt his heart swell at the childish little drawings- Damian's painting corner in the east Garden was now "Artist Alley", the south garden had a dragon fountain so Dani had decided it was "Dragon Keep" and she had found the north floating balcony where Bruce liked to go practice his not so secret love of singing.

Dani had marked her map as "Siren's Side" with a cute little drawing of Bruce singing.

The more he learned about his three kids, the more Jason loved them.

Jazz wasn't kidding when she said she didn't mind him in their lives- she was just worried that he would try to take them, and with his money and connections, she wouldn't be able to stop him. Her worry bled into the three children, and with intelligent eyes that belied their five years of age, they would watch him with guarded caution.

The moment they would finish their snack, the three would make excuses to run off and do their own thing. Jazz would continue reading, but Jason wouldn't be a Bat if he didn't see the way she relaxed whenever the kids left the table.

It was rough....to want to be accepted by them but also understanding why a random man wanting a family connection would be difficult to establish.

That's why Jazz's suggestion that they all visit the zoo had been such a shock. She gave Jason a strained smile, but her eyes were soft. For a moment, Jason felt his heart skip a beat. "It would be nice for the kids to see the zoo with their...dad."

The five had headed to the zoo- with Bruce and the rest following behind in disguises because they are all nosy assholes. He had gotten so used to the clicking of Tim's camera- as his brother was over-excited to capture his nephews' and niece's first zoo outing- that he hadn't realized a second camera was following them.

They had just finished watching the penguins swim when Danny tugged on the leg of his pants. "Mr. Dad, sir. Can I tell you something?"

Jason's heart jumped. Is Danny starting to like him? Sure, he put Mr and Sir, but he called him Dad! Grining widely he kneed down to get to his level.

"What up, bud?"

Danny leaned in to whisper in his ear. "There is a man taking pictures of me in the bushes."

Usually, Jason would have told him something like, "Tim is weird, but he's harmless." However, he knew for a fact Tim was on the roof of the Penguin exhibit and that meant some random man was taking pictures of his kid.

Green bleeds into his vision slowly, and Danny jerks back, surprised by the sight. "Go with your mother-"

"Pervert in the bushes!" Dan's voice cuts Jason off. They both turn to the little five-year-old throwing stones into the surrounding bushes and a man stumbling out of them with a shout. "Pervert in the bushes"

Danny facepalms, which is not the reaction his son should have. How in the world did Dan even know the word pervert?

"Dan! What on earth are you doing!?" Jazz screams alarmed. She raced back, a tray with four ice cream cones in her hands, and Dani, not far behind, also carrying her own cone. The girls had gone to get some frozen treats for everyone not too long ago.

The man turns to her with a very familiar predatory glint in his eye. Shit, Jason knows who he is. He is a paparazzi and one of his kids called him dad in front of the stranger.

The man takes Jazz's picture, momentarily blinding her with the flash, before firing questions and taking more pictures of her reaction to each one, "Miss, are you the baby momma of Bruce Wayne? Or one of his many kids? How did it feel to be a mother so young? Were your intentions to get pregnant to have access to the Wayne Will? How much money did the Wyanes pay you for a night?"

What?

Jazz's eyes go wide, her face drained of blood, and she looks frozen in fear. "I don't-why would- I'm not!"

"Not a whore or not a gold digger?"

"Neither!" Her voice wabbles like she's about to break into tears.

Jason sees green. He is about to beat the disgusting pig to the ground but his children are faster. Dani races forward, little arm pulled back and throws her whole body into a jab at the paparazzi's manhood.

The man drops his camera in a wheeze. Dan smashes it with another stone, hitting the lens five times just to make sure it is broken and starts to advance at the man.

Dani is currently yelling at the top of her lungs, swearing, and punching the man with her belt buckle wrapped around her knuckles. It's satisfying to watch- his kids beating down a full-grown man with no training, just vicious righteousness to protect their mother.

That is, until Danny- the apparently more level-headed triplet pulls them both off by the back collar of their shirts. Jason sees it for the first time.

The kids eyes are glowing green.

Horror creeps into every part of his mind, and he doesn't even realize the creep is screaming about suing them or Tim and Bruce's fantastic entry to get a handle on the situation.

He is distantly aware of Steph and Cass, helping a silently crying Jazz walk away, and that Dick, Damian, Duke, and Harper form a protective circle around the kids, but it's Cullen that realizes Jason is frozen.

"Jason? Are you alright?"

No, he is not alright.

Pit's madness ruined his life. It left blanks in his memory. Left him lashing out and killing quickly. It makes him attack Tim and others. It made the child Jason used to be, feel sick and revolted.

It made it hard to look in the mirror and not be disgusted. It was everything that was wrong with him since the Joker took all his innocence away with his blasted crowbar.

Pit Madness is a curse that he has to live with sometimes where he claws at his own skin in a pathetic attempt to get away from it. But he could never escape its taunting whispers, its controlling green, or its presence sitting somewhere behind his eyes that turned him into a monster.

A curse he gave to his children.

He truly is Wills Tod's son, isn't he?

[sarahisslytherin]

on the kingsroad.

cregan stark x reader

summary: you try not to let your feelings for lord stark show as you travel to king's landing together.

contains: forced proximity, fluff.

a/n: there was only one bed!!

word count: 1.2k

You struggled to keep your heavy eyes open as your mare clopped down the dirt road. You trotted alongside Cregan, whose gaze was now fixed on the inn that grew closer with each passing moment. “Almost there, my Lady.” The young lord of Winterfell addressed you gently. He was as weary as you were, and longed just as much for the warmth of a bed. You tugged feebly on the fur lining your cloak as you neared the inn. It had been a few days on the Kingsroad in the company of Cregan Stark. 

You both had business to attend to down in King’s Landing and the noble lord deemed it necessary that you be accompanied. Though you were merely a lady of his court, you had never been able to deny the part of you that longed for something more than polite manners from Cregan. The look in his icy blue eyes as he strode down the halls of Winterfell had put you in a trance more times than you cared to admit. Equally culpable for this were the stolen glances during feasts, the electricity you felt at his touch when he would help you out of a carriage. These small moments provided you with enough warmth to survive the longest of winters. 

Soon enough, you were at the inn’s doors. Cregan dismounted first before aiding you as you did the same, his strong, leather-covered hands holding your weight as your boots hit the snowy ground. You thanked him for the help as he led the way inside. The innkeeper marveled at the sight of him. Tall, wide, commanding; a young wolf.

“Forgive me, Lord Stark.” the man stuttered. “But there are simply not enough rooms left to accommodate both yourself and the young lady.” At this, Cregan looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze. Something in your expression must have given away that you didn’t mind sharing chambers for the night, because he swiftly turned to the innkeeper and paid for the remaining room.

You tried to suppress the churning feeling in your stomach at the thought of such proximity to Cregan, thankful you could blame the pink hue of your cheeks on the biting northern cold. You followed Cregan up the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under his steps. The hallway was lit by torches, the warm light leading you to your chambers. “After you.” Cregan bowed his head ever so slightly as you stepped into the room, the stone and wooden walls encapsulating the heat from the fireplace. 

“Gods, how I’ve longed for the comfort of a bed.” you chuckled as you shrugged off your furs, leaving you in your gown. You felt Cregan’s heavy gaze as you undid your simple braid and let your hair cascade down your shoulders. “You must know your company has been a great comfort to me, Lord Stark.” you confessed, offering him a sheepish smile as your eyes met his. He too was in the process of removing his cloak, his thinner garments capturing your attention more than could be deemed fitting of a proper young lady. 

“I am glad to hear it. I must admit that when I heard you would be traveling to the capital on your own, I couldn’t help but worry for your safety. I shall stay close to you at King’s Landing as well. It is truly a viper’s nest, no place for an innocent lady.”

“My Lord, you underestimate me.” you smirked as you stood up from your place by the crackling fire. “Surely the vicious men of King’s Landing cannot be much worse than the brutes back home.”

Cregan laughed at that, a good hearty laugh. “Is your opinion of Northmen truly so low?”

You felt heat begin to creep into your face once again. “I- I meant no offense, my Lord. The men I speak of are nothing like you.” You were too nervous to be sure, but you were quite certain it was a look of amusement now on Cregan’s face.

“Are they not? I am a man of the North, born and raised. What could possibly save me from your damning opinion?” he teased, but you sensed he truly wished to hear the answer.

“Well,” you sighed as you fiddled with tendrils of your hair, “They are not nearly as handsome, and not one of them has ever made me laugh the way your jests have. And they are unkind, inhumane. They regard me as no more than an object, something to be enjoyed as one enjoys a feast. But you-” you cut yourself off, looking up to meet Cregan’s gaze. The look in his eyes was soft, hopeful even. 

“But I?” he insisted.

“But you are kind. Not only to me, but to your people. You are a rare man of honor, true honor. A man I feel safe with.” you finally said. If Cregan was moved by your confession he tried his best not to show it, his gaze fixed on the ground as if lost in thought. You decided to make yourself busy with the fur covers on the bed. Cregan stood up to help. 

“My Lady, please have the bed.” he said, his voice scratchy from the cool winter air. “I will arrange my furs on the floor.” Your eyes widened at that, your hand reaching up to clutch your heart incredulously.

“Nonsense, I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor when there is a perfectly fine bed large enough for the two of us!” 

Cregan made an effort to suppress his smile, but it was not enough. “Are you absolutely sure? I only wish for you to be comfortable.” he insisted.

“Certainly.” you assured him, allowing your hand to rest gently on his chest. You tried not to focus on the beat of his heart beneath your icy palm. He wasted no time in taking it in his own hands and bringing it to his lips, the gesture awakening butterflies in your stomach. 

You gently stepped away to your side of the bed, slipping in and doing your best to stay on the edge of the bed. You felt the mattress dip where Cregan did the same on the other end. You ensured you were both back to back with room to spare between you. You tried to drown out the thoughts you were having about the Lord of Winterfell as you drifted off to sleep.

It wasn’t until the first rays of dawn began to pour into the chambers that your eyes began to flutter. You were so accustomed to sleeping alone, you didn’t know what to make of the presence you sensed so close to you. Only then did the memories of last night come back to you, and you looked down to your abdomen to find Cregan Stark’s large paw of a hand resting there. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of his breath hit the back of your neck. He had pulled you flush against him in his sleep, and it seemed you had done little in protest. The butterflies in your stomach returned as you let your eyes close again and leaned into Lord Stark’s embrace, impatient to continue your journey on the Kingsroad.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @lovemesomevesey @shemisseshome @themissgreen24-blog @siriusement @kindgomzeldaquest @gayfordabae @slayis4ever

[floatyflowers]

You are the daughter of Sauron and everyone is obsessed with you as they are obsessed with the rings.(Part 1)

"Everyone was aware that falling in love with you was madness, given your father's identity. Still, no one minded as long as they could have you by their side."

Morgoth/Melkor

He is obsessed with you as much as he is obsessed with the Silmarils.

Doesn't care if you are the daughter of his servant, he wants you.

Despite your refusal of Morgoth's advences, Sauron encourages you, and wanting to please your father, you decided to try and please Melkor.

"Your soul and body are mine like those silmarils"

He crafted a necklace made out of one of the Silmarils, gifting it to you as a token of your unity.

Thankfully, the Valar captured him after the battle of Wrath, however you already left him before the battle of Wrath.

Maedhros

You met him while he was in Thangorodrim, getting tormented by your father.

At that time Morgoth was imprisoned in Angband, so you were free from his obsessed jealousy.

However, after seeing the handsome red-haired elf for the first time, you decided to take care of him and try to free him, feeling sympathy and gulit.

After freeing him with the help of his cousin Fingon who had to cut off his hand to free him, Maedhros tried to convince you to escape with him, after you handed him the Silmaril Morgoth gave you.

"Come with me, you will find peace away from your father's clutches"

And you did leave with him after realizing how awful Sauron is.

But your decision is like falling into another trap.

As Maedhros appeared to be the same as Morgoth in causing violence.

Celebrimbor

After discovering what Maedhros and his brothers have done to their kin, you fled without a second thought.

And as years passed, you kept yourself hidden wandering alone, until you met Celebrimbor whom you find his knowledge remarkable.

You thought of leaving when you discovered that he is the nephew of Maedhros, but his generosity tempted you to stay, and you did.

Honestly, you thought you found peace with him in the safety of his home, but that was never the case, Celebrimbor was possessive and refused to let you leave.

He crafted special rings to keep you safe from danger, and also to keep you in love with him.

"Your pain, your pleasure, your every thought belongs to me. You're mine to command and possess."

Celebrimbor thought he owned you, until Annatar 'Sauron' came into the picture and corrupted Celebrimbor into making the rings.

Sauron/Annatar 'platonic'

Sauron didn't realize how much you meant to him until you ran away.

He almost went insane and never stopped searching for you.

So, when he encountered Celebrimbor, he didn't expect to see you, and deep down it steered horrible jealousy at the sight of you, his only child, happy with Celebrimbor.

Adding to this, he noticed Celebrimbor's obessesive behavior towards you and how he tried to keep you away from his sight.

What is more amusing to Annatar is that you didn't discover his disguise.

So, he decided to reveal it to you.

"How sad that you don't remember your father, my sweet child"

You warn Celebrimbor about your father before handing him the rings he made for you and leaving.

Elrond

You knew Elrond since Maglor, brother of Maedhros, was the one fostered him and his twin brother, Elros.

So, seeing him after so many years surprised you and what made you feel shy is the fact that he invited you to stay with him at his realm.

You decided to take on his offer because you didn't want to keep on wandering in the middle earth after you did for many years.

Actually, you came to his realm after his wife decided to leave to the Undying Lands.

And Elrond is the only one who felt like he wanted to marry you but he decided not to act on it to not frighten you.

Especially after everything you told him about others 'locking you up' and 'refusing to let you leave'

Actually he witnessed how his foster Uncle treated you, so he understood where you are coming from.

"Do not worry, Nin meld, you are safe here with me, I promise to protect you from any danger."

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi hi hi - saw your requests are open and I just NEED needy Azriel, I mean I want this man to be so downright desperate, hands and knees type beat just to touch and feel reader. Give me all the begging and dare I say….subby Az?

I give you full creative control on if you wanna add plot or not! Love your writing!!!

I am not used to writing desperate men so I hope I did this justice.

warnings: Smut (+18), begging, slight orgasm denial (more prolonging), teasing, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), wing play, Azriel just being needy and horny. Mostly unedited (per usual),

WC: 2.5k

Azriel assumed that this is what dying felt like. Well not really. He had been close to death enough times to know that this was the exact opposite. It felt like he was burning. It was rare that they got sent on different missions, even rarer still for one to get sent out without the other. But this mission required no males to be present and that left Azriel far away from his mate. Selfishly, he missed you. You were just doing your job. Helping evacuate a temple of priestesses and taking them to safety. But he wanted you here, back beside him in his bed. 

Every day still felt like the frenzy to him. More often than not the two of you are sneaking away to some corner or closet. He kept waiting for it to go away, for the day when his blood didn’t rage through him at the sight of you but the day never came. Not that he was complaining, you were the most beautiful female he had ever seen in his long life, and you were more than well aware of the effect that had on him. 

So he suffered. Days turned into a week and he had to leave your house entirely. Even being able to smell you on the sheets was making every inch of him ache. It didn’t do any good. No amount of training with Cass or burying himself in work. Nothing. Feyre and Rhys assured him that it was no trouble for him to stay but Azriel noted the wide birth the couple gave him as the days stretched on. Even his shadows were affected, either disappearing completely or swirling around him like a tornado. Whispering in his ears questions of where you were, where the small shadow that lived around your wrist was and just exactly why it had been so long without you. 

Azriel felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin and was about to lay into his brother for kissing Feyre in front of him when a shadow alerted him of someone entering your shared home. Not just anyone. You. He was out of the townhouse faster than he could blink, winnowing right to your front door. The front door that was still open, you just stepped through it. He stood still for a heartbeat. Only enough time for your smell to flood him. It was like a drop of rain after crawling through a desert. He took three long steps until he was able to wrap you in his arms. He felt all the tension leave his body at the felling.[A low rumble left his chest as he just held you tight against him, drinking in the feeling of your arms returning the embrace. Your hands were rubbing small circles into the middle of his back doing nothing to help the desire that was starting to burn through him. A small noise left your mouth as he scented his own arousal in the room, felt his body respond to the soft touches. 

You tried to pull out of his hold, peering up at his face slightly but he refused to let his arms loosen. Only pulling you tighter against him. Your hands trailed their way up his back, being mindful of his wings, until your fingers were resting in the shorter hairs on the back of his head, scratching at the skin there. Another low rumble pushed out from his chest, closer to a purring noise. 

“Sweetheart.” His voice was tight enough that you couldn’t help but look at his face now. He saw your lips part slightly as you took in his flushed face, knowing his pupils must have been blown wide at the crushing need that was racing through him. His shadows wrapped around the two of you, cocooning you in their warm darkness. 

“Did you miss me that much?” Your hand was now trailing down over his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest and lower until your hand had just brushed the front of his pants. 

The air whipped around both of you and you tried to adjust to the dim lights of your bedroom. 

Azriels hands were all over you. Tugging at the layers of your clothing. The silk overdress you wore was pulled over your head and thrown onto the floor. 

Azriel pulled on the strings of your corset, the stupid garment taunting him with every second it was still on your gorgeous skin. He pawed uselessly at the binding, all thumbs as you lightly giggled. He let his head rest on your shoulder. “Gods, please just get it off.” He mumbled against your soft skin. He felt your small nod and the flex of your shoulders as you went to unlace it yourself. Steadier fingers having it off in a matter of seconds. He pulled his head up and was greeted with you only in a thin under dress. That he could handle. Wasting no more time, he gripped the hem of the dress and pulled it over your head, throwing it into the same pile as your skirt. He whined,whined, at the sight of your bare skin. The slight swell of your breast, the  fullness of your stomach that was so soft under his scarred hands, wide hips that were perfect for him to grab onto. He looked at you like every inch of you was carved by the mother herself. 

He couldn’t stop himself as he sank onto his knees, like that golden thread was tied lower than normal. “Az..” You started, breath hitching as he slung your leg over his shoulder. He bit back a moan at the smell of your arousal. He wanted to drown in it. Glancing up at you, he could see your mind still far away. 

“Please. Want to make my mate feel good.” He groaned into the plushness of your inner thigh. The vibrations of his voice sending a shiver through you. Your head had barely nodded your yes before he dove in between your legs. He let out a loud throaty moan at the first swipe of his tongue between your folds. His arm going to wrap around your waist to keep you upright. Your back arched into his touch, bucking your hip when he latched onto your clit. His name was flowing out of your mouth as your hands tangled into his hair. Azriel let out a high whimper that lit your whole body on fire. You pull again and are met with the same high sound from him, matched with him trusting his tongue in and out of you. Your legs threatened to give out underneath you as he slid a thick finger into you. Eyes squeezing closed and throwing your head back as he alternated between slow languid flicks of his tongue and fast driving thrust with his fingers. You were racing towards your orgasm, and let your mate know as much 

“So close, Azzy” you moaned, legs trembling at trying to stay upright. His answering moan vibrating through you. Your toes curled against the floor, back arching pushing you closer to him and you were just about to tip over the edge when he pulled away, finger stilling inside you. 

“Az, what?” You were panting, head still a little fuzzy with the orgasm that was ripped away from you. He just shook his head, tongue sweeping out to clean off his face. He pulled his fingers out of you, a move that had you whining at the loss of feeling. Azriel rose to his full height and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your lips to his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you deepen the kiss. His hands snaked down to the back of your thighs and you didn’t hesitate to let him lift you up, ankles locking behind his back. You thought he would carry you to the bed across the room but you instead felt one of the walls press against your back. 

“I missed you so much.” Azriel said into the sensitive skin of your neck before he sucked harshly on the skin. You rocked your hips against his, desperate for relief. Azriel pulled his head away from your neck to look you in the eyes. His pupils were so wide there was no sign of that comforting hazel. 

“Show me how much you missed me then.” A slight smirk graced your face when you heard his sharp inhale. He pressed his hips into yours, meeting your small motion. He swore lightly under his breath, a hand instantly going to fumble with the ties of his pants. Your own hands reached down to help since your position didn’t give him a lot of leverage. The two of you had his pants pulled down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You felt the bead of precum as it pressed against your stomach. His forehead pressed against yours as you reached down to line him up with your aching hole. He pressed his hips forward and he stilled after an inch. His breathing was already heavy and his wings twitched behind him. 

“Missed this too. Gods.” he pushed in until your thighs met, settling all the way in. Your head fell against the wall with a soft thud. “All I could think of was being inside you. How much I missed the way you feel around me, the way you taste.” His words were punctuated by long, slow pushes of his hips. You knew your nails were digging into his shoulders as every snap of his hips sent you up the wall. 

“Az, harder.” You stuttered out. He was moving too slow and as amazing as he felt you needed his faster, harder. Needed him everywhere. He rested his head into the crook of your neck, shaking his head in a no. 

“Want to take my time with you.” 

“Az please.” 

Another shake of his head and when you tried to press your heel into the small of his back, he wrapped a gentle hand around your ankle to stop the motion. At the contact you let your leg slide closer to the ground. Azriel looked up at your face, concern lined in his eyes. He pulls away from you and places a gentle hand under your chin. You don’t speak, just place a hand on the center of his chest and push lightly, he backs up until his legs are hitting the edge of the bed and you gently give him one last push so he’s laying on his back. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, sinking back onto him with a low moan. 

“Darling. What-” His cheeks are stained red and his voice comes out far breathier than you normally hear from the spymaster. Your thighs meet his stomach and he attempts to grab at your hips. 

“Oh no. You said you wanted to take your time, so we’ll take all the time I want.” You saw as you raised yourself off of him slightly and sank back down. He groans a broken version of  your name. Hands once again going to grab your hips. You let out an exasperated sigh and take his wrists in your hand. You press them above your head. And he could push you away in a second if he really wanted to, overpower you in a heartbeat. But he lets you keep his wrists pinned to the mattress, shadows swirling around the tanned skin under your hands, helping you hold him down you realized. “Keep them right there, Az.” You whisper into his ear, lips ghosting over the shell. He shudders slightly but nods his head. You release your hands from around his wrist and go to trail a single finger along the hard outline of his wings. He throws his head back, eyes scrunched closed as you run your nail all along the outside. Soft and steady. You reach the end and repeat the motion on the other side. 

“Gods. Please. Sweetheart. Move please.” He whines as your tongue licks along the same path of your finger. “Point made. Gods, just move.”

“I don’t think I will.” You breath against the sensitive membrane of his wings and you feel him throb inside of you. You pay it no mind, moving your hips at the perfect angle that your clit is rubbing against the hard planes of his stomach. A moan tumbles from your lips and he makes a small whimper. You feel his arms tense as he tries to tug against his shadows, but it seems that they took your warning more seriously that he did as they don’t let him budge. He bucks his hips, throwing all of his strength into the motion and you move on him. No amount of bracing could keep you fully seated. But you only give him that one thrust before you shift your attention back to his wings. 

His breathing is short and huffed as you alternate between licking and trailing your fingers against his wings. You sit up enough to see his face, his eyes are shut tight, the muscle in his jaw ticking with how hard he’s clenching his teeth together. 

Taking the opportunity, you give him a soft bite on his collarbone at the same time you lift your hips up. You move until he’s almost slipping out of you before you push back down. His wings flare out underneath him. His eyes open to look at you fully now. 

“Please. You made your point. Gods please. Move.” He babbles, sounding winded. His hands are clutching the sheet above his head. You surge forward to capture his lips as you start to really move. His hands are instantly on your hips, guiding you up and down on his long length. And you let him. You could tell he was already close, riled up from you playing with his wings for so long. 

“Wait. Sweetheart.” He whimpers out, trying to get you to slow down again. Trying to get you to cum before he does. But you only speed up your motions, 

“But you’ve been so good for me, Az.” 

“Want you.. This was supposed to be about you.” You ignore him again, closing your eyes and pushing your chest out at how good he feels. The way he fills every inch of you, the smooth glide of him against your walls. The only sounds are your moans and your skin meeting together. His hips meet yours perfectly with every thrust. Moans are tumbling out of his lips like sweet music. His hands squeeze your hips and hold you against him as he shudders underneath you. He comes with a roar and you moan loudly when you feel him empty inside of you. He keeps his grip tight as you ride him through it. You go to slide off of him but before you can you’re back is on the mattress, him hovering over you. 

“I’m going to enjoy every second of this.” He says before he lowers his lips to yours and makes you cry his name over and over again.

[oneforthemunny]

Can you do more mafia!eddie and if it’s not asking to much pregnant!reader??

ofc! here's a little blurb <3 slight smut at the end. pregnant!reader x mafia!eddie so some mafia type themes but nothing graphic. mainly fulff!

Eddie huffed, a ringed hand grabbing at his curls, buzzing with adrenaline filled nerves. His voice was beginning to shake from the tightness in his throat with every shout of your name, echoing off the walls without a response.

Panicked thoughts flashed through his mind at rapid speed, sickening what-ifs and other horrific scenarios conspired by his own mind. The damning thoughts overpowered the rational, jumping to every possible worst case scenario about what could have happened to you, to the baby, the dogs that were no where to be found as well.

Eddie was ready to give up, ready to call Gareth, command a search, a war if he had to. Frantic steps towards the phone, his hands shook when he picked up the phone, Eddie was halfway through jamming Gareth's number in when he heard a bark.

Muffled, but loud and defilingly crisp enough to know it was Diablo's. Letting the phone fall, Eddie jogged towards the back door, pulling it open with such a force the hinges groaned. His free hand on his hip, pulling his gun out, flicking the safety off in a fluid motion that was muscle memory at this point.

His eyes scanned the garden, over the pool, towards the spacious back yard, lowering his gun at the sight. The boys running around, yanking and tugging their toy, running beside you to give you their toy for you to run while you walked- marched, was more like it. Arms pumping, heavy, purposeful steps up and down the length of the backyard, not slowing to toss the toy for them to fetch.

Eddie pressed his lips together, shoving the gun back in his holster. "Baby," Eddie called, trying to keep his voice light, a coo. You were sensitive these days, the slightest quip in his tone had you in tears.

You turned, continuing your walk up the grass, knees high with every step, nearly touching your swollen stomach. You were ready to pop, baby Bea due any day now- past due, really. There were talks of a C-Section, of inducing labor if she didn't come on her own.

"Baby," He tried again, walking to meet you. The sun was starting to set, but the heat hadn't eased up.

"What're you doing, sweetheart?" Eddie's voice was still tight, a forced coo to try and mask his heart that was still climbing back to a normal beat.

Vecna jumped up, letting you grab the rope toy, tossing it and sending them all running after it. "Walking." You huffed, a little out of breath from the pace. It was harder now, with a giant baby bump in your way.

Eddie swallowed a groan, taking a deep breath before jogging besides you. "Did you not hear me yelling? I was looking for you. I didn't know you went outside-"

"-I can't stay inside all day, every day, Eddie." You snapped defensively, continuing your stride, trying to ignore the burning in your back and calves. "I needed some fresh air."

Eddie bit back a huffy comment that your doctor told you to take it easy, knowing it would not be received well. Instead, he grabbed the toy from Lucifer when he brought it, flinging it far this time, trying to keep up with you in his Armani shoes.

"I know, I just couldn't find you." Eddie said, a hand reaching out to your lower back out of near instinct. "I just got worried when I couldn't find you."

You seemed to like that answer, eyes flashing and gleaming sweetly at him. A mood swing, there had never been a truer word, Eddie decided.

"I was just out here, baby." You cooed, slowing your pace, chest heaving a little, winded.

"I see that." Eddie looked at you carefully. "What are you doing? It's a little hot. Do you have a water?" He turned scanning for a cup, a water bottle, anything.

"I read that walking can get your water to break." You were nearly shuffling, eyes closed, letting your heart beat settle. You paused, looking down between your feet for anything, any sign that it had broken. "I don't think it worked." You frowned.

"She'll come when she's ready, honey." Eddie cooed, rubbing a hand on your back gently, guiding you towards the patio, desperate to get you to sit down. "You don't need to overwork yourself. It'll happen when it does."

"I'm not overworking myself." You snap, huffing with an eye roll that had Eddie flinching. Still, you let him guide you to the small patio table, settling into the cushioned chair.

"I just want her to come already." You muttered, running a hand over your swollen bump. "It feels like it's taking forever. Like she's never going to get out."

"She'll come when she's ready." Eddie snatched the water bottle of the stairs, putting it in front of you.

"She'll be here soon, sweetheart. Just don't-don't stress about it." Eddie hesitated, watching you carefully.

Your lips twitch in a snarl before bringing the bottle to your lips. Him telling you not to stress when that was quite literally all he had done felt hypocritical, but you decided against telling him that, right now, anyways.

"Maybe I should try the workout tape again." You hummed, spinning the water bottle around on the table lightly. "Or maybe you should just fuck me like the doctor said." You said bluntly.

Eddie blushed, lips twitching in a grin at your boldness. "That is not what he said."

"He said penetration." You glared at Eddie.

"He also said it could hurt you." Eddie countered. "That you're-you're softening down there or whatever-"

You rolled your eyes, scoffing loudly. "I mean, you can't fuck me mean, but you could be gentle and it would be fine." You glared at him for a moment. "But you won't because you think I'm disgusting right now."

"I do not-"

"-Clearly you do." You huffed, lip wobbling, a burning forming in your chest and throat with tears. "You won't even fuck me when the doctor is telling you to."

Eddie fought an eye roll, standing to pull you into him. Your head buried into his midsection, sniffly and furious, but allowing his affectionate touch. Another swing.

"I do not think you're hideous. I have never, not once in my life thought you were hideous, so I don't want to hear you say that anymore." Eddie's tone clipped with authority, your thighs pressing together at the sound. You'd missed it, missed him talking like this.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"-You won't-"

"-I don't want to." Eddie lifted his voice over yours, pulling back, a hand cupping your chin to bring your gaze to him. "So you have to let me know if it's hurting you. Anything."

Damn those pregnancy books. Of course he'd read them cover to cover, front to back, taking in every bit of information he could. It was endearing, really, until times like this when he handled you like you were glass.

"I will." You nodded, holding his gaze with yours. "I promise."

Eddie relented. Of course he did. Truthfully, he'd been in agony for the past few weeks, willing himself not to fuck you in fear of hurting you and the baby. The oral was good, great even, but just not as good as the real thing.

So Eddie willed himself still, hands gripping your hips, trying to support you while fighting the blinding urge to slam you on his length, when you sunk down on his cock at a painfully slow pace.

[sttoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, who’s silent is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

 “What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

[fqntasies]

The First Kiss - Feyd Rautha x Reader

summary: You are visiting Giedi Prime once again. As you've grown older, the pull you feel around the na-baron is stronger, deeper, even if you've never spoken on it. Does he dream of you too? Will you be able to speak of them to him, or will such dreams remain as such forever? We he be able to resist you?

disclaimer: this is a kind of follow up fic to my last feyd x reader. However, this takes place before that time frame. Read the first one here to get a better understanding of how i'm approaching my feyd stories.

words: 1,111

This was the fifth time your family's entourage had visited Giedi Prime; your betrothed's home planet. Each stay got a little more familiar. Perhaps it was the smell of the air. The caress of the blinding black sun above; brilliant and strange; a blot in the heavens. You felt enraptured in it somehow. Like a feeling you could not shake, though in part you blamed the dreams.

You had yet to speak of them with him.

Had he dreamt too? Surely, the na-baron had. You thought often that he must, if not only for the way his eyes seemed to linger on you when you shared a space, no matter how many resided in it. You felt wholly consumed by it. There was a heaviness in his actions, weighted by their directness; when his gaze would meet yours, your pulse would quicken, breaths catch in your chest.

Sometimes, even in silence, in those spaces you shared among the others of your families, you found him lingering close. Felt the heat of him at your back. The hand at his side ever so close to caressing the edge of your hip. He was possessive. Protective.

You two had shared such few words, yet you knew this about him already. Nor could you deny the way it made you feel. A magnetism. Something at the edge that was just out of reach. For now.

"My lady." You startle at the closeness of his words, earrings brushing the curve of your neck as you whip swiftly to look up at Feyd.

You had been thinking of him; lost in your own thoughts. He seemed to read it in your gaze, dark eyes flitting between yours, shadows blanketing the angles of his face. There is a palpable silence as his gaze lowers to your lips. That heat you'd come to know with him. Your mouth waters at the ghost of his kisses in your mind. A seemingly distant future in visions of your marriage.

You vaguely catch the Baron's smug rasp to your father something about spice production, but they have trailed out of the room before you catch the full statement; leading a train of servants in their wake, and the hissing of levitation technology.

When you speak it is but a breathy sound.

"My lord na-baron."

"-Feyd." He quips. low and sudden.

You swallow thickly, a flush beneath your cheeks as you meet his eyes. His given name. You hadn't used it yet, save your own thoughts, and whispers to yourself at night in the safety of your room. It seemed a sacred thing. Something intimate. Something of your yet-to-be-husband's.

The na-baron watches you intently; his body imperceptibly closer, as though seeking to envelope you in his shadow. Predator and prey. You decide to broach the subject. The feeling between you...you must know if it is something of your own mind.

"Feyd Rautha". For some reason the use of his full name from your lips makes him smile. A bizarre sight, being so rare - and this grin looked almost amused. Like he had not been expecting the addendum, humorous. You are quick to try and follow up with your request, cheeks hot.

"I must ask something rather delicate, pertaining to our betrothal."

At that he seems to sober a bit, obviously unsure about whatever it was you were to follow with.

"Do you..." You wish you could know a thing beyond just your own feelings. The twisting of your stomach at the thought he could reject you tearing your insides.

"...Do you dream?"

For a moment, there is that heavy silence again, but then you see the slow curl of his lips, just at the edges. Oh, he seems to say. Followed by a soft and knowing hum.

"Is that what this is about?"

He is coming closer now, stalking you in a few calculated steps with that same smile. Your chest heaves with your breaths as you make way backwards, but then he has an arm about your waist, and mentally you are aware of the heat of him, and the strength. You feel like you've lost some game, or been suddenly caught cheating.

That's when you taste him. His mouth has tilted upon yours, slotted against you like you were meant to be there and you moan softly. Surprised that this moment has come at all - yet wanton for it too. How many nights had you dreamed of him holding you like this? Wondering what it might be like for him to lean in and kiss you?

Feyd swallows your sigh greedily. Readily. The arm he has around you pulls you into him further, and you are pleasantly surprised by how soft his lips are, and how good he tastes. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

You angle your head opening for him further, learning as you go. He was so quietly calculated, and yet he kissed you like a man starved, uncaring of who saw or who tried to stop him. Not that any being could. You would bet everything that the na-baron would slice any fool willing to try, to shreds. You'd seen his bloodlust, and his prowess in the arena. Such a feat might even excite him, with you as his prize.

He seemed eager to hold back his need for air - kissing as deeply as he could. Slow. Then fast. As though his control would slip and he has to taste more of you. More. More. His tongue sought yours in a dance, followed by teeth tugging at your lips. You mewled softly at that, eyes so heavy. You felt almost drugged, and after a moment too long, you both parted, breaths breaking the silence.

His hands are at your hips now, holding you steady, but your faces were still just a fraction apart. You felt proud of the way Feyd's eyes looked heavy lidded, or how his lips were tinged pink. It drew your eyes in a way that had him groaning.

"Careful, princess..." The nickname has your cheeks heating again, even after being kissed senseless, and he chuckles low in his chest. The smells of spice and some kind of foreign cologne fill your senses as he nears again, this time bringing his mouth towards your ear. You close your eyes, barely able to keep them open as you angle your head slightly to the side.

"-Or I might have to make more of my dreams a reality."

The admittance, and the low tone of his voice so close has you turning your face and opening for him once more, your breaths colliding as he is quick to seek your tongue with his own.

[rinhaler]

And if I Change My Mind it's Far Too Late

All you want to do is celebrate your best friends birthday. But you can't even find him. Why are things so weird tonight?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ best friend!rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: friends2lovers ++ porn !! Notes: I'm so late for rinnie's birthday I suck lmao !! enjoy tho Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, drug use!(weed), dubcon, slight shotgunning?, friends to lovers ♡, rin is angsty!, weed paranoia, love bites ♡, dacryphilia ♡, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart) ♡, he licks ur messy panties, makeshift gag on u! (the panties), spit + drool, pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight hair pulling, overstimming ♡, calls ur pussy 'she' ♡, reader is a crybaby ♡, spanks ur pussy once !, oral fixation, praise ♡, use of 'good girl' ♡, slight degradation (slut), pussy job ♡, vaginal sex, mating press, dumbification ♡, creampie ♡. Words: 13.3k

—

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

Sae Itoshi’s words have been rattling around your brain for the last thirty minutes. It’s late, late enough that the night sky above you is nought but a black abyss. The city lights pollute the infinite void above you and scare the stars enough to dim their shine.

Not a single twinkle can be seen as your feet come together and you look up, almost craving an answer from the heaven’s. All you receive in turn is an obsidian silence.

There’s a pang of dread writhing through your body as you continue to roam the desolate streets, weaving through alleyways as you see stores and restaurants that have been abandoned for the evening as the proprietor’s rest and recuperate for the day to follow. When the streets are lit by a blue sky and blazing sun and showcase a slew of potential customers that can be invited in to shop, or sit and gorge themselves on a sickly sweet dessert or a hearty meal.

It's 2am.

Everyone should be safely indoors, whether sleeping soundly or curled up with a hot drink and a cosy book; or even the sound of fictitious characters chattering about nothing in particular as a blue light from a screen fills the room and helps the audience feel a little less alone.

That’s what you should be doing.

Letting a false reality consume you in the safety of your own home instead of walking through the city like this. You have a cake in your hand and a balloon wrapped around your wrist, you’ve never felt lonelier.

A group of men emerge from an alleyway and your heart freezes. You know that you shouldn’t be out at night, alone. But nothing happens. A mere glance in your direction before they continue on their way, and you emit a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

That stab of fear is the catalyst to convince you to go home, turning on your heel as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Your strides become brisker as you think about being followed. Your mind intent on terrifying you despite nothing really happening.

It’s the terror of the dark, the unknown of that abyssal sky.

Is this the same view that Rin has, right now? You wonder if he’s cold, blanketed in the bitterness of the Autumn air with the same paranoia wracking through your body and bubbling beneath your skin as you traverse through the city.

He could be anywhere, after all.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It hurts as you reflect on all of the text messages you’d sent him leading up to your visit. Sae looked less than pleased to see you at such an unholy hour. In hindsight, you should have just stayed home. But you had the grandiose idea to surprise him and spend the night with him, despite not being invited.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if you were.

You assumed he was asleep when you didn’t receive a reply. But now it seems he’s actively ignoring you. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, though you suppose you’ll never know until he decides to get in touch.

Sae’s befuddled expression is cemented in your mind as you recall him drinking in the sight of you despite being irritated that you showed up unannounced. The way you stood with the cake and balloon must have surprised him, but you didn’t let it dissuade you.

“It’s a birthday tradition.”

“You’ve only known him for three months, how can you have a—”

“How do you think traditions get started? There’s always a first.”

He rolled his eyes at you, hard. But despite his desperate attempt of hiding it, there was an obvious smirk on his face as you spoke. It was childish, but charming, hearing you say something so innocent so brazenly. And still, his brief enchantment from your declaration couldn’t alter the facts.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It makes you worry that he’s grown tired of you. It isn’t like he wanted to be your friend, anyway. You forced that title upon him, and he just decided not to reject you.

That must count for something at least.

You think so, anyway.

He’s been in your life for a mere three months, and still, you can’t imagine your days without him in it anymore. You started working in the music section of a department store four months ago, and Rin was hired just a month later.

What he lacks in desire to communicate with anyone, he makes up for in his musical knowledge. You can’t fathom why else he was hired. A few of the other applicants might have been better suited, but you think your manager might have believed Rin to be the least trouble. He’s reserved and does his job well.

Immediately, you were instructed to show him the ropes despite only having a month’s extra experience at your disposal. Your boss had trained you, but seemed he was too lazy to offer the same to Rin. Why explain himself twice when he can just make you do it?

You don’t begrudge him, though. It gave you an excuse to talk to him, after all. He slowly but surely began to let you in, not that you gave him much choice. You’d always greet him excitedly as your workday began together, or you’d bring him his favourite coffee if you started a little later.

The possibility of a workplace crush wasn’t lost on you, but that’s all it was. It wasn’t obvious enough for him to comment on, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. After a few weeks of working with him, you thought he must be used to it. He was never short of female attention, despite never feeding into it.

He might find it easy to ignore when he receives it so often. You didn’t outwardly flirt with him. You were just a little nicer to him than your other colleagues. It became clear he wasn’t interested, though. You assumed he simply didn’t find you attractive or maybe he already had a girlfriend.

The latter, now, you know isn’t the case and now you… have a boyfriend… of your own. You’re happy to just be friends with him, you get along well. Even though he’s so blasé, you have fun with him at work.

You smirk when girls enter expecting to do nothing more than browse, and then they wind up listening to him explain facts about different bands they obviously aren’t interested in. He doesn’t even realise they’re fawning over him as they end up losing themselves to the allure of his dulcet tones and the glimmer of his dreamy teal eyes.

He’ll ring them up with a record and hand them a receipt, and you’ve lost count of how many times they give the receipt back with their phone numbers scribbled on. He always pockets them, carelessly, until given the opportunity to discard of them.

“You aren’t gonna call her?” you’d ask.

“I did my job, why would I need to call her?”

His monotone speech always leaves you wondering the truth.

Is he truly oblivious to it, or is he just pretending to be?

Your approach at work, however, is different. While he ignores flirting, you welcome it. Selling records isn’t a difficult task, people browsing often know what they want. And still, older men love talking down to you. It’s a daily occurrence when you’re on the clock, they get off on it. You aren’t sure how Rin feels about it, he seldom interferes.

You’ll flutter your lashes and flaunt your chest as a man whose wife doesn’t appreciate him anymore ogles you and tells you a thing or two, or ten, about his favourite bands that: “You’ve probably never heard of.”

The light in their eye is evident as their cocks stir in their pants while you pout and nod along to whatever they tell you. You throw a few compliments and act clueless as they prattle on and on. And, it’s funny how unique and profound they think they are for liking specific bands they’re certain you know nothing about.

And, sure, maybe the first dozen times you were a little out of your depth. But the more lecherous customers you got, the more you realised, they all listen to the same shit and you could probably recite the things they want to say to you right back at them.

You don’t, though, you remain compliant and interested and so wholly enthralled in them. Because that is how you make sales. Letting a sad old man think a hot young thing half their age is even a little interested in them. It’s easy, and it works. It’s easy to manipulate someone when you pretend they’re the coolest and most intriguing customer you’ve had all day.

Rin has spoilt a few sales for you since he started but it never dampens your mood. He doesn’t do it intentionally, of course, and it always leaves you grinning or snickering at the expense of the poor sap who thought you were putty in his hand.

You know a little about music, your taste has certainly broadened since you began working here. But Rin is almost entirely responsible for that. You know a little, but Rin knows a lot. And while you’re flirting up a storm, if you’re in close proximity to Rin, he’ll join in on the conversation. The older men tend to avoid him because somehow he happens to know the same, if not more, about the music they think they know everything about.

Somehow, Rin possesses more musical prowess than they could ever dream of, despite their age. He’s younger, but he’ll have more passion in him than they ever will.

You admire him, truly.

You like music, but Rin loves it. 

When the store is empty, he’ll introduce you to music you’d never heard and smile when he finds something you know you’ll be listening to on your walk home. And in turn you’d play pop songs you assumed he’d hate but he’d actually compliment and enjoy. He isn’t pretentious, he doesn’t think one genre is better than another.

He just loves music.

You think about your shifts together as you continue to head home. Maybe he has more interest in those girls than he lets on. Maybe that’s where he is right now. There’s a chance he isn’t being pulled into the all-consuming dread of the night sky like you. He’s hooking up as a birthday treat. You find your thoughts spiralling, wondering what type of girls he’s into and what it would take to be the girl that Rin Itoshi finds worthy of a chance.

And soon enough, you jolt as you feel your phone buzz against your hip. It’s sitting snuggly in the pocket of your sweatpants. The string from the balloon begins to pull and twang as it bounces from your wrist, you skilfully transfer the cake you’re holding in one hand to the other as you fish it out of your pocket.

Before you can fully digest the push notification of a spam email on your home screen, your screensaver is plunged into darkness. Your eyes widen as you’re met with an accept and decline button from an incoming call. You aren’t sure how to feel when you see Rin Itoshi in bold letters at the top of the screen. Relief flows through you, but so does worry.

And still, you answer.

“Hey.” he says, plainly. He isn’t the type of person you’re used to having phone calls with. You know he’s more of a texter, though his responses are dry. It’s enough to make plans and communicate with him easily.

“Hey…” you say, trailing off. It feels ominous. A call at 2am out of the blue from a guy that’s been ignoring you while you’re walking through the city is bound to leave you a little anxious. The sooner you get home, the better. “… Happy birthday.” you say, even now, there’s a smile on your face. It’s small, but he hears it.

“Thanks.” he says, coolly. You can’t fathom why he’d call you if he doesn’t actually want to talk to you. “You already said it at midnight, though.”

“Yeah… I wanted to say it again. You didn’t reply.” you remind him, gently. A beat of silence goes by before he speaks again.

“I know,” he responds, quietly. “I’m at the skate park.”

“Oh.” you say, not having expected that response. But, thinking about it now, it seems far more obvious than him hooking up with a random girl. You clear your throat, standing outside of your apartment as you find a way to continue the conversation. “… are you having fun?”

“I guess.” he tells you, clearing his throat. “Sae said you came over.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t home. It was… dumb.”

“It’s fine,” he says calmly. You can’t help but wonder if he agrees that it’s dumb or not, though it’s a fruitless thought to have. You know Rin well enough to know he won’t elaborate. You begin to pace back and forth, your heart pounding as you wait for the inevitable end of the conversation. “Come over.”

You stop, again, unsure if you heard him right. The smile on your face begins to widen as you hear him say it in your mind again and again. He wants you there, he wants to spend the early hours of his birthday with you.

The skatepark isn’t far from where you live. A ten minute walk, fifteen at most. Though with the pep in your step as you begin to head over there, you wouldn’t be surprised if you make it there in five.

“Are you sure?” you ask, in spite of it being too late. He’s already extended the invite and you’ll be there in no time flat. You can’t help but feel strange about the entire situation, though. It’s almost eerie how things are panning out. First he was ignoring your texts and now he’s calling you for the first time in a long time and inviting you to hang out.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to see you.” he informs you. You feel your face begin to warm up, and you bite your lip in appreciation. “It’s dark, I’m by the half pipe.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few. Bye.”

He doesn’t say it back, simply ending the call as you venture towards your destination. The orange tint of the city soon becoming a distant memory as you nervously approach the outskirts of town.

—

The sound of wheels rolling against the wooden half pipe is louder than anything you’ve heard before as you approach. You don’t say anything, wondering if he’ll see you despite it being pitch black. You look up at the sky as you get closer, the light pollution has become a fast-fading memory as the stars dazzle a little brighter now.

His actions begin to slow as you approach, the wheels stopping completely as he finally sees you. He looks at you, carefully, shielding his eyes from the outer glow from the distant streetlights surrounding your body. One eye scrunches closed until you stand beside him. He towers above you, intimidating you with little effort. He tries to soften his expression, but his eyes struggle to adjust.

“Happy birthday… again.”

“Thanks, again.” he smiles a little. “You even got cake… Did you bring anything to eat it with?”

“No, because I thought you’d be at home. Why are you even—”

“It’s fine, I can take it home.” he tells you, taking the cake from your grip before you can react.

He sets it down on the ground, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks a little up the curve. You follow him, and he effortlessly raises you by your hips until you’re sitting comfortably on the flat surface. You’re thankful it’s so dark, you hope he’s unable to see how flustered you’ve become. You pout as you attempt to take shallow breaths and sweat begins to bead at your hairline.

You compose yourself as he hands the cake back to you, and he hoists himself up to sit by your side. He watches you as you shuffle your body, facing him head on with your legs crossed, and he immediately follows suit.

“A cake and a balloon, you went all out.” he says nonchalantly. You aren’t sure how to react until you see a slight smile play on his lips.

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“That’s okay, this is more than you needed to do.” he explains. You move the cake out of your way before sliding closer to him, you untie the balloon from your own wrist and attach it to his. You can tell he wants to object, but you feel slight a slight note of pity emanating from him as you proceed.

He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“How long do I have to keep this on for?” he wonders.

“The entire day, you’ve gotta sleep with this on.” you tease him, he laughs a little in turn before it falls deathly silent again. You shuck the little backpack you’ve been wearing off before opening the front compartment, rummaging through it to find what you’re searching for. “I didn’t bring candles… but maybe this can count for your gift.” you start.

He watches you, smirking happily as you retrieve a blunt and a lighter from your bag. You move the backpack aside and pull the cake closer. He continues to stare as you remove the plastic covering from the entirely chocolate cake, taking it from your hands as you hold the blunt between your lips. You light it, taking a hard drag before gently exhaling. His eyes close softly as you aim directly for his face, backing away slightly out of the line of fire. He opens them again, though, watching as you poke the blunt through the centre of the cake. The orange embers still burning as the wind blows.

“… Oh that’s gonna be gross if any ash gets on it.” you laugh. “It was a cute idea in my head.”

“Yeah, it’ll be disgusting.” he reiterates, quickly pulling the joint out from the middle before perching it between his lips. “This tastes like chocolate now.”

“That was my plan all along.” you grin. He takes a few more drags as you place the plastic packaging back over the cake, setting it aside once more. You reach your hand out as he hands it back to you, the balloon attached to him lagging along with him.

You can’t put a finger on why things seem to be so awkward between you. Maybe there’s a lingering feeling of hurt as you contemplate why he didn’t respond to your texts. It’s taking everything in you to not wish him a happy birthday for the fourth time.

Instead, you fuel the silence by smoking more and more. It’s not the strongest stuff you’ve ever had, but there’s a second one in your bag so you don’t feel guilty about smoking more than you probably should. He doesn’t say anything, and you’ve decided to keep your eyes firmly closed in a bid to ignore how weirdly uncomfortable things seem to be.

“Oh!” you exclaim, eyes shooting open quickly. It almost scares Rin, his body froze for a moment but you hadn’t realised in your excitement. “Did you make a wish?”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow, perplexed. It’s scary how similar he and his brother look. It’s the same expression Sae had offered you when you arrived at his apartment tonight.

“When you smoked… because it’s like your candle. So you should make a wish!” you explain, but you’re met with a continuous stare as he seems to be trying to unfurl the mess that is your train of thought. It makes perfect sense in your mind, but given his expression, you wonder if you just spoke another language. His incredulity fades and is soon replaced by an amused sneer.

“Are you high already?” he laughs.

“Oh… maybe. It has been a while.” you giggle.

Soon enough, you’re both laughing uncontrollably. Tears begin to stream down your face, and it only makes him laugh harder. And the sight of him so utterly entertained makes you laugh harder. It’s so rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. It’s hurting your stomach; you hold your sides as you allow yourself to fall backwards and carry on cackling.

“This— I didn’t think— It wasn’t supposed to be strong!” you struggle to explain, immediately bursting into laughter once again. He tries to keep composed but is soon laughing alongside you. He combs his fingers through his hair before using the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe away his own tears.

“It’s not. You’re just a lightweight.” he notes. He slowly moves, allowing his back to rest against the metal framing before throwing his hood up, tucking his knees into his chest. He’s still smiling, though, your silly outburst still at the forefront of his mind.

You sit upright again, your laughter finally beginning to subside as you look at him. His smile fades as yours does. And now, you’re both nervous. What went wrong? Why are things so weird? And then, you feel it brewing. Regardless of how badly you want to choke it down, you can’t seem to help yourself.

“Happy birthday.” you almost whisper, echoing his body language as you lean against the railing nearest to you. He scoffs lightly, but with a wide, cheesy grin on his face before looking at you again.

“You’ve said it four times now. I think you’re happier about my birthday than I am.”

“I think I am, too.” you giggle, biting your lip again as you look down at your knees. You quickly shake it away, remembering where you are and who you’re with. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I love being friends with you, Rin. And I’ve been excited to celebrate today with you. And we get to do it from pretty much the start!”

He goes quiet, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away uncomfortably. You gulp, nervously, almost retreating into your own body as you hug your legs tightly. He can barely bring himself to look at you, though you see his eyes occasionally flicker to the ever shortening blunt in your hand.

That’s when you decide to approach him, crawling towards him on your hands and knees like a demure, weak kitten desperate for approval. You hold it out for him, and he accepts it, slowly. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you look out to the distant city. It’s beautiful, from here. It looks so lively.

“… Why did you come here, tonight?” you wonder, hoping a gentle probe will provide some kind of insight to his mental state.

Your head slowly rotates as you look at him. Even in the darkness, his eyes shimmer brilliantly. Instead of anything of substance, though, his shoulders merely shrug. You decide not to pry any further. He isn’t the type you can force information out of, he’ll only give it willingly.

You know that well, even with only knowing him for three months. And because of that, your heart skips a beat as you hear him take a shallow breath, clearly wrestling with telling you something. Anything that may make things clearer to you.

“I— I suppose I had a feeling,” he pauses, taking another drag before letting his head thud gently backwards against the metal railing. “You were gonna try and do something like this.”

“… I didn’t know you would be so against it. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine,” he continues. “It doesn’t matter, we’re here now. Thank you for the balloon, and the cake. And this.” he says as he gestures to the blunt in his hand.

You feel a little at ease, now. Without saying a lot he’s said enough. Knowing the type of guy that Rin Itoshi is, you should have known he wouldn’t want anyone to make a fuss about his birthday. He’s reserved and low key, he’s an introvert, of course he wouldn’t want a fuss for his birthday.

And still, there’s a gnawing unease.

You’re a little forceful with your friendship, and you’re under no illusions that it’s likely annoying for him. But he’s never outright ignored you before. He holds no issue with telling you when you’re bothering him or he wants to be left alone, you’d never push his buttons on purpose.

But tonight…

There’s a tension between you that you can’t seem to place, and he seems intent on ignoring.

“… Rin?” you start. “Why did you ignore my texts?”

He shuffles uncomfortably, you even hear him clear his throat before taking another drag. And after he exhales, it’s followed by a disappointed sigh. Your anxiety spikes. What have you done wrong? It must be something to make him act like this. It’s so out of character to the Rin you know.

But maybe that’s the problem.

You barely know him.

Maybe this is the Rin you don’t know.

“… Do we have to discuss this now?”

—

You’ve almost forgotten where you are.

You’ve almost forgotten who you’re with as the calmness envelops you.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you that you can’t seem to pinpoint or address. You’re high, stupidly so. And still logical enough to not poke the angsty bear that is Rin Itoshi. You’ve been lying on your back, admiring the starry sky as you contemplate why things are the way they are with your favourite co-worker.

He’s more than that, though.

You think he might be your best friend.

Is there a set amount of time that needs to be spent before addressing him as such? Three months doesn’t feel like a lot, but the time you’ve known him hasn’t just been shifts.

The days you’d meet him at work soon turned into times you’d spend commuting there with him. Instead of taking the bus home you’d walk with him. When you’d bring him coffee he’d start to return the favour by buying you your favourite snacks from the bakery.

Instead of walking near your apartment he’d walk you all of the way to the door. And eventually, he’d come in. After the first time he accidentally fell asleep on your couch, he’d spend the night purposefully. You’ve spent countless nights getting high together at your place, and soon enough you’d be doing the same at his apartment.

You didn’t know what a big deal it was that he introduced you to his older brother until he told you how strained their relationship had been in the past. But they live together, now, and they seem fine. Whether Sae likes you is still up for debate, but he’s joined in when you’re getting stoned together in the front room and arguing with his brother about which music you should play. Their tastes are similar, but things vary when getting down to the specifics.

Their parents taste has affected their own, Rin favouring his mother’s whilst Sae prefers his father’s.

Three months ago you could barely pry his name out of him. But now, you’re drowning in the overwhelming sky that looms over you thinking about all of the time you’ve spent together. You’ve known how much you enjoy being with him since that very first day, though you aren’t quite sure if he feels the same way.

“I’m hungry.” you say aloud rather than to yourself like you’d intended. You sit upright when you hear Rin begin to shuffle, too, realising he’d been reflecting in the obsidian mirror above him, too. He stares at you, expressionless. “Are you ma—” you want to ask him if he’s feeling some type of way about you, but you’re interrupted by a loud rumble from his stomach.

“Fuck.” he sighs.

“… Should we eat the cake?” you wonder. You can’t hide the devious grin on your face as you enjoy Rin’s cool exterior being foiled by the all too human need of hunger. You don’t even wait for him to answer, pulling the cake closer for the umpteenth time before removing the packaging. He grimaces as you break off a chunk with your thumb and forefinger, crumbs tumbling off as you lift it into your mouth. And you moan, obscenely, as the sugary sweetness encases your tongue. “Oh my God that’s good. Try some!” you encourage him.

“… fuck it.” he rolls his eyes, dragging himself closer to the cake before copying you. His eyes roll, again, this time into the back of his head as he begins to satiate his hunger.

You both continue to eat, silently, savouring the flavour of the cake you so expertly chose. It’s hard, being like this. Because you know that usually you’d be chattering away about other employees you work with even though Rin doesn’t care about gossip. He’ll listen to you intently while he eats and before you know it his plate is clean while you’re struggling to understand how he eats so fast.

But tonight, you’re silent.

All of your thoughts remain trapped in your mind as you eat. Bite after bite as it crumbles and messes beneath you and tarnishes the hollow wood beneath you.

And it’s funny, you’re the one who’s usually watching Rin as you talk and talk until you’ve run out of steam. But tonight, you can barely look at him. The same can’t be said for him, though. You see him looking at you a few times when you dare to offer a glance his way, but just as quickly, you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t, though.

He eats slowly, admiring you as you eat the cake you’d so kindly purchased for him. He can’t ignore how crestfallen you look, and yet, there’s still a radiance about you. The outer glow of the city lights barely halos around you like you are some kind of angel. The gentle yet biting breeze of the September sky billows through your hair that you’d messily tucked away into a low bun.

His intense turquoise eyes only leave you for fractions of a second when he needs to blink. He isn’t sure why he’s staring, but he’s putting it down to being stoned. It’s almost like an anchor, watching you attentively as you embrace the rich, sugary taste that you can’t seem to get enough of. While he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his consumption slow and steady.

He chuckles lightly as he sees a small piece of cake fall from your fingers and you desperately try to bite at it. It’s too late, however, and you simply huff as you look at it beside you. He smirks, again, when he sees that you’ve accidentally smudged chocolate on the corner of your lip.

Your head jerks as he whistles quickly, like a dog owner summons the attention of their pet. He closes the distance between you as you leans in close to you, your heart rate heightening as you note how close his face is to yours. His throat bulges as he swallows the cake he’d been eating, and your eyes drop to his lips. You can’t even bring yourself to smile when you note a few gentle streaks of chocolate that have stained between the creases, you only feel your stomach sink when you look back into his eyes and realise he’s been watching you stare.

He leans in closer, and your eyes flutter shut. Though they soon open again when you fail to register the press of his lips on your own. He wipes the smudge from your face and shows the chocolate residue to you.

He’s paralysed you.

As much as you want to smile, to laugh awkwardly at what a fool you’ve made of yourself, you can’t. You’re frozen in place as you watch him. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him gently wetting his tongue with a deliberate curl of his tongue. His eyes bore into yours without faltering as his lips pucker around his thumb, making sure there isn’t a single trace of chocolate still there.

He grins, seeing the quick puff of breath you exhale in desperation. Your eyes flicker around, a feeble attempt of looking anywhere but at him. You squeak, quietly, as his sultry tone breaks the overwhelming silence between you.

“I’m not usually a chocolate fan,” he tells you before grabbing another chunk of cake. “But this is really good.”

“… M-Maybe it’s because you’re high?” you respond after wracking your mind for something to say in turn. You can’t wrap your head around what that was. You’ve never seen him like this before.

He’s wordlessly decided he’s blaming everything on being high.

Maybe you can, too.

“… Rin?” you speak, plucking up the courage from somewhere as you dare to whisper his name. He looks at you, briefly, before rolling his eyes. He knows. Of course he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He keeps avoiding the question that you’re yearning for an answer for.

“Don’t.” he tells you.

“But—”

“Just… don’t.” he commands, though his voice loses the assertiveness it had previously. He looks at you, and you swear you feel your heart twist in your chest as you see what you can only deduct as disappointment looming in his eyes. He looks at your backpack, again, and back at you. “… did you bring more weed?”

—

You lie side by side as you take turns passing the blunt between one another. He does all he can to focus on the sky, even when he feels your eyes on him. Your head turns, chin almost resting on your shoulder as you stare. You stare brazenly just as he did before.

And still, he won’t look at you.

He takes a long drag and doesn’t exhale, his lips slightly ajar as he allows a thin trail of smoke to dance from between his lips. And you stare on, longingly, as you wonder what’s going on inside that head of his.

You wish you could crawl inside of him and burrow your way into his brain. There’s nothing more you want right now than to nestle through brain matter until you reach the uncertain core at the centre of everything. The dismal part of his brain that’s so secretive and yet so inviting.

What does he want from you?

He turns his head as he passes the blunt to you, though he stutters backwards a little when he notices you were already looking at him. A soft ‘tch’ leaves him before you take it from him.

“Quit it.” he warns you, though there’s no malice or intent in it. He looks at you softly, and your own harsh gaze becomes gentler. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” he tells you. Your breath hitches as he speaks, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

Your eyes close as his fingers begin to tenderly caress your cheeks, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re so… fragile.” he says. Your eyes shoot open, at that. He laughs a little, though it’s barely noticeable, and it doesn’t deter him from his careful touch. He means it, you can feel it in the way he’s being with you. He’s toying with you as if you were made of glass. And if that’s how he feels, you wonder why he’s doing this at all.

“Rin?”

“Don’t.”

“No… why did you invite me out here?” you ask, hoping to disarm him. His expression that had hardened so quickly is gone in a blink, an earnest smile takes over him instead. He withdraws his hand, and now, you’ve never felt colder.

“I wanted to see you, that’s all.” he explains.

And it’s enough, it should be enough. It’s an answer to your question and yet it gives you so little. You’re starved, though. What he gives you isn’t enough, it’s never enough. You’ve made do for so long with useless scraps that you forgot what it feels like to truly be satiated, you want to eat him alive. You’d devour him whole, tear meat from the bone with ravenous fangs if it meant you could finally be satisfied. But as soon as your lips part, you close them once more.

You no longer have the energy, your body can’t be sustained from pitiful scraps any longer.

“Things are weird.” he mumbles. You nod, agreeing, and he looks at you wistfully. “I don’t want them to be.”

“… I don’t know how to fix it, Rin.” you confess.

He clears his throat, a little surprised by your answer before he looks up at the sky again. You follow suit, wondering what he could be thinking about this time.

“Why didn’t you get me a gift?” he cuts through the sharp, agonising quiet with something you really hadn’t expected him to say. Almost in unison, you’re looking at one another yet again. Your eyes narrow, though his face remains stoic. You aren’t sure why, really. You love giving gifts, but perhaps a small part of you thought he wouldn’t appreciate one from you.

And maybe a smaller part of you thought he might not deserve one.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“I don’t,” he nods, agreeing with the sentiment. “But you bought a cake, and a balloon. I was wondering why a gift is where you draw the line.”

“It wasn’t about drawing the line.” you tell him, rolling onto your side so you can face him directly. He doesn’t do the same, but he gingerly pulls the joint from your fingers before smoking a little more. “I didn’t know what to get you.” you lie, and he knows it too. He doesn’t shy away from making it clear, either, scoffing at your pitiful excuse.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” he says through an exhale, smoke escaping his lungs and entering the atmosphere as he talks. “You make notes of things you see while you’re shopping you think your other friends might like.”

“You’re not like my other friends.”

“… I guess.”

“You didn’t even want to see me tonight and you only invited me here because you felt bad, right? If I’d gotten you a gift, you would have hated it. I don’t know why… but I know you wouldn’t have been happy no matter what I bought for you.”

He pauses, a chilled breath revealing the true cruelty of the autumnal air shudders by his teeth. You want to shiver, and yet you’re forcing yourself not to. Regardless of how awkward the night has been, you don’t want it to end. You don’t want to give him a reason to send you home so you can part ways, the growing issue between you never becoming resolved.

“You’re probably right,” he smirks, “But I think you would have gotten me something nice. You’re thoughtful.”

And with that, the urgent need to shiver through the cold has subsided. His words seemingly enough to warm you. It’s sweet, and simple, and it makes you realise how easily pleased you are. You worry that there might be something wrong with you. He says one nice thing about you and you’re satisfied.

It’s embarrassing.

“What would you have wanted?” you ask, meekly.

“… I don’t know.” he shrugs. And, really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less than this. He’s aloof, an enigma you’re too simple to explore. You can’t delve into his mind because you don’t understand how someone can come to be so standoffish and reserved. “Maybe something to drink.” he hints.

“There’s flavoured water in my bag.” you smile.

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry,”

“Meh…” he thinks, debating whether he wants to drink it or not. “Ugh… I’ve got cotton mouth. Why did you buy flavoured?”

“Because I like it! And, again, I assumed we’d be doing this at your place.” you smile, teeth chattering unintentionally as you’re reminded what season you’re in. He looks over his shoulder as he hears you, watching as you try to hide how uncomfortable you are. He grabs the water bottle from your bag before sitting upright properly.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“N-No, I’m fine. It’s okay.” you nod. He shakes his head, quickly untying the balloon from his wrist before attaching it to your backpack so that he can pull his hoodie off. Your breathing staggers as his t-shirt rides up along with it, exposing his toned musculature before he hands it to you. “You didn’t have to give me this…” you tell him quietly, hugging it against your body as you enjoy the warmth of his own body heat.

He doesn’t say anything, he just waits patiently for you to put it on. His face scrunches at the taste of the water, but continues to drink it eagerly. There’s no better option, right now, and the dryness of his mouth is almost enough to make him choke.

“Thanks.” you smile after bundling yourself up in his hoodie. He nods curtly, handing the water bottle to you. You open your mouth repeatedly as you try and determine if your mouth is equally as dry before you begin to chug gratefully.

“All I wanted for my birthday this year was to lose my virginity.” he says, bluntly. He starts laughing as you choke on your drink, sputtering wildly and using the sleeve of his hoodie to dab up the droplets on your chin. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’re a virgin? No you’re not, you’re fucking lying!” you reply. He laughs again as you sit fully upright and face him so that you can question him more.

“Why am I a liar?”

“B-Because! Oh my God, you have girls hitting on you at work every single day. And you don’t, I don’t know, you don’t have virgin energy.”

“Girls don’t hit on me.”

“Ohhhh I hate you, you suck. They do, are you fucking with me right now? They do!” you bark back angrily. An amused smirk remains fixated on his face as he can see your temper begin to boil over.

“Even if they did hit on me, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna have sex with them.”

“I actually hate you.” you bemoan, “This is fucked up because I can’t prove it either way. But you’re lying, I know you are!”

“Whatever helps you through this, sweetheart.” he grins, snatching the water bottle back from you. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, at how you’ve seized up from a simple little pet name. But you aren’t frozen for long, thawing out quickly from your simmering temper.

Whether this is a harmless little prank to tease you is now irrelevant, because all you can think about is what a head fuck he is. And, as much as you both might prefer, you can’t blame it on weed. Maybe if this animosity had started after you’d been smoking together, but he was ignoring you before.

And that’s when you’re brought back to it.

“Why were you ignoring my fucking texts, Rin?” you ask, harshly. And now, it’s enough for him to choke on the drink. Maybe he’s never heard you be so assertive, before. Maybe it’s because he thought you were having a harmless joke around. Nothing tonight has been harmless, though. It’s all been weird, uncomfortable, palpable.

Whether intentional or not, he’s forcing you to suffer and refusing to tell you why.

“If you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, fine, whatever. But this is fucked up, so just tell me.” you explain, voice trembling as you do. You aren’t cold, anymore, but your throat feels like it’s about to close.

“… You’re so fucking stupid.” he mutters. Twisting the lid on and off your bottle repeatedly before he shoves it aggressively back in your bag. “Do you really not get it?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” you snipe back.

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend.” he responds. Your stomach drops and you fight to hold back tears, failing miserably as they silently roll down your cheeks. He watches on, his aggressive expression faltering as he watches you try and wipe them away quickly.

“That’s… shitty.” you sniffle. “That’s all you had to say. You didn’t have to invite me out here and embarrass me.”

“You don’t get it.” he interjects. He shuffles closer to you, and you scramble to evade him. You want to grab your bag and run from here. From him. But as you try and hit him, push him away, he grabs your wrists and stares at you with a desperation you’ve never encountered with him before. “You’re— you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“… Huh? You ignored my texts because I have a boyfriend? What are you—”

“Listen to what I’m saying, you’re not stupid but you’re acting it because you’re riled up.” he tells you, calmly. You struggle in his hold once more, but his grip remains firm. “I didn’t want… you… fussing about my birthday. Because you have a boyfriend.”

You’re stumped. As much as you want to yell and argue what he’s saying, you can’t. He isn’t making sense and you do feel stupid, now. He’s saying words that don’t mean anything, words that are irrelevant to what you’re discussing to deflect from what you’re asking.

Has he always been like this?

You don’t know, really. You don’t know if you’ve been carrying this so-called friendship on your back and filling in the blank awkward silences with chatter about nothing. But you thought you were more than this. You thought he was smarter than this. He’s intellectual and carries himself confidently, and yet, in this moment, you can’t help but think he’s a coward.

“You sound like a fucking idiot right now.” you scowl. “Ignoring me because I wanted to celebrate your birthday because I have a boyfriend? What kind of stupid reason is that?”

His lips tighten to a straight line and porcelain skin turns pink, you can see it even encased in the darkness of the early morning sky. You can see his eyes shake as he looks at you. He wants to say something but he’s fighting against it. You can tell, he’s holding back words he wants to say as he searches for something less confrontational to tell you.

But he can’t.

For once in his life, he can’t.

“Why are you with him?” he asks, bluntly. You’re taken aback, so much so that you laugh. It’s short, and makes his anger burn further in him as he watches your reaction. “Do you even love him? Scratch that, do you even like him?”

“Fuck you, Rin. That’s none of your business!”

“You don’t, do you?” he laughs, only now it’s at your expense. It feels patronising and mean. But he can’t help himself. You hadn’t hesitated to laugh at him, only in your disbelief. But he’s being cruel. He’s doing it on purpose. “You can’t even lie to yourself. Why are you with him?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Rin.” you tell him. You mean it, too. You’re trembling and you remember you’re wrapped up in his hoodie. It feels suffocating to have the warmth of cotton that had been keeping him comfortable now clinging to your skin. “Why are you being like this?”

You say flames lick behind his irises before they’re extinguished, his furious glare being doused by a glossy sheen as tears silently fall from your eyes and roll down your now sodden cheeks.

He pulls you nearer to him by the material of his hoodie, his large hand encasing your face as he tries to force you to look at him. You turn your head roughly, defiant in your pursuit of making a stand.

“Hey.” he says, it’s abrasive and stabs through you. Your soaking eyes stare into his, and he gently wipes your ever falling tears with a gentle rub of his thumbs. He smiles, a little, and you feel dizzy. Your brain is fried as his mood changes once again. “You really don’t get it?”

You blink, shaking your head.

Deep down, you know. You have a niggling feeling that you know why he’s being like this, but you worry you’re overthinking things. There must be something simpler, something likelier than what you’re delusionally imagining.

“H-He dumped me.” you say almost breathlessly. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. He’s engaged, and honestly, you don’t think he’s been more eager to listen to anything you’ve said before. “He said…”

“Go on.”

“… ‘You forget who your boyfriend is. You spend more time with Rin than you do with me.’ I— he’s right. I have more fun with you at work than I ever did on dates with him.”

“Why were you with him?” he asks, his face moving closer to your own.

“Because… the guy I like… liked… doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t like him anymore?” he wonders, looking between your eyes and your lips. You shake your head gently, and you see a small slither of saliva slip down his throat. “Why not?”

“I—” you breathe softly, acutely aware of how close he is to you, now. You aren’t imagining things, are you? Is this really happening? He’s been a mess tonight, you can’t trust him and you certainly can’t trust your own judgement. He’s just teasing you.

He’s just teasing you.

“Why are you asking me this, Rin?” you whisper.

“I think you know why.”

“Tell me, please.”

He grunts, there’s a little force behind his hand as he cups the side of your face. You yelp as he closes the distance between you both, slotting his lips against your own as he pours his feelings into your first kiss. You don’t even register as he moves you so that your back is flat against hollow wood, almost towering above you as he cages you below.

You lose yourself to the dizzying feeling of finally experiencing his lips on yours for the very first time. Something you’ve wanted, maybe, since the moment you set eyes on him.

But you never thought it would happen. Not ever, and definitely not like this. He pulls away for a moment, admiring how drunk you look from one little kiss before he realises he can’t bear to part from you. You mewl into another intoxicating kiss and he moans into your mouth.

“I’ve been crazy about you for ages,” he mumbles. You bite your lip as his begin to travel along your cheek and kiss across your jawline. And you moan, unashamedly as he decorates your neck in sloppy open mouthed kisses and sucks his signature into delicate skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I shouldn’t have ignored you…” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“I-It’s okay,” you whimper. “I get it, now!”

“That prick didn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him, knew that the minute he came by the store.” he tells you. He grabs your face roughly and kisses you messily. He stops, and it’s abrupt, as he looks into your eyes yet again. “Couldn’t fucking stand it whenever he came in. And whenever you talked about him. Were you trying to make me jealous?”

You nod, giggling before he kisses you again. “I guess— it worked?”

“Yeah, princess. It worked.” he grins before kissing you again, lips reattaching to your neck as he mindlessly ruts his hips against your clothed core. “Didn’t wanna risk letting you make a big deal about my birthday ‘cause I knew I’d fall too hard for you, fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“W-Wait…” you stutter through a moan. “Were you lying about… the only thing you want for your birthday?”

He smirks, looking around before he looks back at you. His smile is devilish, you cock your head as you look up at him.

“Do you want to find out?”

You look around just as he did, knowing nothing could deter you from this before looking up at him again. And, without hesitating, you nod again. He bares his teeth with a smile, the happiest you’ve ever seen him, before he stands on his knees. You don’t move, watching him in awe as deft fingers curl into the waistline of your joggers, pulling them down along with your racy black panties.

He separates them from the grey material of your sweats, studying them intently. You see thoughts swirling behind his eyes but can’t decipher them. Though your face soon flushes with an unbearable warmth as you witness him studying the gusset of the black lace, his thumb gently prodding the pooling slickness that had gathered there.

“Cute.” he grins.

You squeak and cover your face as his tongue leaves his mouth, slowly licking up the seat of your panties to taste you. He moans, unabashedly as he savours your essence, he hovers over you again and moves your hands away. You’re panting, eyes stuttering as you struggle to decide where you should be looking. He doesn’t let you look anywhere but at him.

“Taste.” he commands, balling up the material before carefully slotting it betwixt your swollen lips. You’re drooling, instantly, not having expected this from him. And already, you’ve decided.

He isn’t a fucking virgin.

“Your slutty little panties taste sweet. I’m sure the real thing is even better.” he muses, sinking his head lower before, pushing up your hoodie and vest to expose your midriff.

He kisses gently down your sternum before slowly, purposefully, oh so delicately kissing your mons. Teal irises stringently stare as he does. Your body is pliant, and you allow him without question to hike your leg over his shoulder. A harsh spit of saliva hits your clit, and you can’t help but moan. Whether it was the feeling, the sound, or watching him do it, you aren’t sure. But he grins, cockily, clearly pleased with himself before he tormentingly strokes the pads of his index and middle finger across your swollen clit.

“Mmpf,” you keen, the black lace still filling your orifice and preventing you from speaking. You’ve never experienced this, before. You’re used to being used as a toy to please men you’re with. Your pleasure always coming second to their own. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten head. And those guys had experience.

Maybe he is a virgin.

Maybe he thinks he needs to be generous because that’s what he’s been told…

“C’mere,” he mutters before reaching upwards, yanking the saliva drenched panties from between your lips. He moans as you look at him with a heavy-lidded stare and spit slicken lips. Strings of drool trickling from your lips and some still attached to your panties has his cock stirring further. He holds his eyes closed, for a beat longer than necessary, before looking at you again. “I want to hear how good you feel.”

And with that, your eyes are rolling back into your head as he finally latches his lips to your sensitive clit. He suckles and licks across it like he was put on this earth with the sole purpose of making you cum. He worships your throbbing bead like his tongue was designed with your pleasure in mind.

You card your fingers through his dark hair, yanking lightly when he makes you feel just right. He moans, boisterously, humming into your folds as he makes a point of savouring your delicate flesh. And at this point, you don’t know which of you is enjoying this more.

He moves a little, giving himself room to make a show of licking his fingers before slowly sliding them into your tight heat. Your voice echoes as he curls them, his long, dextrous fingers delving to depths you hadn’t realised existed. His arm wraps tightly around your thigh as you struggle to adapt to such blinding pleasure, desperate to wriggle away from him but his hold remains firm.

“Just relax, baby,” he hums before diving into your flesh once more. His tongue darts quickly, keeping pointed as he swipes it across your pulsing bead. You can’t help but squirm, entirely at the mercy of his mouth and fingers and completely unwilling to let you go. “Mmmpf, you’re so sweet, princess. Could do this all day.”

“F—uuuuuck, it’s too much. I c-can’t—”

“Yeah you can, just want you to feel good. So let go.”

You’re breathless as he maintains focus on your folds. You can’t help but whimper and whine as he slurps and suctions around your overstimulated clit, his fingers working in tandem to help aid in achieving your eventual demise.

It’s better than anything you’ve ever felt from a man before. It might even be better than anything you’ve ever done to yourself.

And still, you’re resisting.

Maybe in your weed addled mind you can’t help but swirl in a vortex of paranoia and confusion. It’s odd, the entire night spent with Rin Itoshi has been uncomfortable and strange and you can’t quite believe how things have ended up.

Your so-called best friend has his face buried between your legs, inflicting a heightened pleasure you’ve never felt before after such an intense exchange of words. You’re resisting it, resisting him, because it doesn’t feel real.

Did you get too high?

“Baby,” he muses. “Are you nervous?”

“N-No,” you respond, your entire body jolting and shivering as the freezing air tangles with your risen tension and building arousal. You won’t be able to hang on for much longer, of that, you’re sure. Not with the way his fingers are sunken and toying with your g-spot. Whether you want to or not, you’re soon to unfurl.

“Cum for me, princess, please.” he begs, “I’ve wait so long to be with you, like this. Don’t let me down, now.”

“Oh, f-fuck, Rin.” you gasp, legs spasming as your back arches as you’re forced into an explosive orgasm. Your moaning and whining resounds throughout the skatepark, and any passersby will undoubtedly hear you as you hit your untimely undoing.

He doesn’t let up, though, continuing to pump his fingers and lick your pulsing clit. You’re too delirious to notice the cocky smile on his face as he works you through the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life.

You’re breathless, resting on your elbows as you look down at him. And you all but cry as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, utterly enamoured by the way it pulsates and clenches around nothing after being worked how he knows you’ve always deserved.

“T-That wasn’t— your first time… w-was it?” you ask gingerly, still panting as tears continuously roll down your cheeks.

He lets go, then, crawling up your body to kiss your face and lick up the tears you couldn’t help but shed. He squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, sloppily kissing you with an adventurous tongue. It doesn’t last, though, looking over his shoulder and down your body to guide his hand to your feminine warmth once more. You yelp as you feel a light spank, before he rubs you again.

You shake your head, but he nods in response.

“Rin, please…” you breathe.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty your perfect little pussy is? I think she wants to cum again, you were so noisy the first time, princess. You can handle one more f’me.”

Your eyes cross as his fingers slot inside of your drooling cunt yet again, the heel of his palm massaging your spent clit again as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers.

“So fucking cute, baby. Such a pretty cry-baby f’me, so gorgeous. Does it feel that good?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, God, yes, Rin. S’good!” you tell him.

He kisses you, again, silencing your whining tone and swallowing your precious mewling that he can’t seem to suffocate. Even with his lips on yours, you can’t help but break away. He moans with you, faux sympathy or genuine pleasure, you can’t tell. But the way your precious little voice rushes straight to his cock can’t be denied. It’s taking everything he has to not hump himself against you, knowing he won’t last a single second if he attempts to pleasure himself as well as you.

You’re barely conscious as he continues, your toes curl as you feel him target the spongey spot inside you which lead to your downfall mere moments ago. Your eyes continue to water, tears spilling into your hairline as you can’t seem to process and navigate the absolute bliss he’s forcing upon you. But you accept it, gratefully. The thought of disappointing him on his birthday has left you a pliable little doll for him to do as he pleases.

He’s had you on such a pedestal and you hadn’t even known it. You’ve unintentionally flaunted your relationship in front of him that you didn’t even know he cared about, leaving him in turmoil and dread as he thought about what things he was doing to you when it should have been him instead.

But he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t win you over because your heart lay elsewhere. Rin Itoshi knew more so than you that a little prick like your ex would never be good enough for you. He couldn’t satisfy, he couldn’t win your heart.

Rin can do both.

Rin has done both.

“How many guys have made you cry from just their fingers?” he asks, whispering in your ear. Subdued whispers of his gravelly tone rush straight to your cunt, an outpour of slick slowly leaking out of your overstimulated slot and coating his greedy fingers. “Messy little pussy, so pretty, princess. If you’re crying from my fingers, imagine how my cock will feel.”

The thought alone has you creaming for him. Even he looks surprised as your body begins to jolt as the pressure begins to abate from what had been your building peak. He watches in awe as you cum gloriously and gift his fingers your sweet, pearlescent sheen. His fingering wanes and slows as you come down, though your body is still wracked with aftershocks.

And he withdraws them, almost bringing them to his own mouth before deciding against it. He spreads your mouth open carefully before massaging your essence onto your own tongue.

“Suck, baby. Good girls clean up their mess,” he nods.

You grab his hand with both of yours to keep it steady, bobbing your head along with length of his digits as you display what you’re capable of with your mouth. You drool copiously, strings dangling from your chin as you keep your eyes firmly fixated on his. The act of demeaning yourself for his enjoyment has your pussy clenching, oozing more slick as you revel in his pleasure.

“You’re such a little slut,” he smiles, and you can’t help but giggle around his fingers.

He offers a slight laugh, though it’s breathy and barely there. You amuse him, but you’ve always amused him. He’s in disbelief that this is happening, just as you are. But being high is giving him a confidence he’d never dream of if he were sober. You can’t quite believe you’re finally doing this with him. But he can’t believe you even contemplated this with him.

He's spent nights alone fantasising about being intimate with you like this. Making you cum from his tongue and helping you ride his cock as you both cum in unison and feel a blinding love and pleasure neither of you have ever felt as you explore each other’s bodies. Nights when that alone would suffice and he’d have to clean up the mess he’d made of himself with an old t-shirt and spare sock.

And that would be followed by mornings you’d greet him with a happy go lucky smile, not a single solitary idea in your head of the depravity he feels when he thinks about you laid bare for him. You’d been utterly clueless about how desperately he longed to feel you wrapped around him, screaming his name while he made you feel what he was certain no other man could.

How could he want to see you for his birthday, spoiling him rotten and behaving like a girlfriend should when you had already dedicated yourself to another man? He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to put his foot down, he was desperate to set a boundary and maybe cut you out of his life for good because his feelings were getting more intense than he thought he could feasibly control.

But, alas, he’s never been able to resist you.

He read your text messages over and over and over again until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had to talk to you. He had to hear your voice. If he’d known being aloof with you would have gotten you to this point. Suckling on his fingers like a girl trying to impress and so desperate to please her first ever crush, he would have done it sooner.

He allows you a few more seconds to taste yourself, to suck his digits like a cock you’ve longed to worship since the dawn of time, before he withdraws them. You pout, but watch as he stands on his knees and pulls down his pants enough to free his aching length. His thick member springing from their confines and slapping against his t-shirt, a messy stain soon to be born there and visible for all to see.

He doesn’t care, though.

He moans as the relief from the release surges through him and glances down at you triumphantly. You can’t even look at him, your eyes glued to his thick length as it flexes and dribbles desperately. He’s cut, and he’s beautiful. You wouldn’t hesitate to choke on his length if he forced it down your throat.

“Do you want it?” he asks, grabbing and squeezing at the base before he tugs himself slowly. “Spread your pretty legs open f’me.”

You nod, doing as you’re told as you bare your cunt on full display. He doesn’t enter you, though, sandwiching his cock between your sticky folds.

It’s euphoric, for him, feeling your lewd folds kiss him repeatedly as he rocks his hips slowly. His perfect, pretty tip nudging against your swollen pearl again and again. He knows it’s enough to get him off, so he makes sure to go slow. Though, your hopeless expression and pathetic mewling could mutually be the end of him.

“P-Put it in.” you tell him, only to be met with a string of disappointed tuts.

“Is it my birthday or yours?” he asks rhetorically, “You didn’t even ask nicely. Knew you were a little brat, but thought you’d have some manners when you wanna make my birthday so special.”

“Fuck, Rinnie, ‘m sorry,” you apologise, biting your lips as he looks down at you with a bemused glare. “J-Just, unf. You’re so big. W-Wanna feel you inside. Just wanna make you feel good.” you tell him, a feeble attempt of explaining yourself. Your wanton desire is too much to handle, you think you might pass out if you don’t feel him inside of you.

He bends down, kissing your cheek carefully before he guides his cock to your clenching entrance.

You yelp as he dips in the tip before taking it out just as quickly. He repeats it, again and again. And then slides in deeper. He withdraws, and then deeper. He repeats, until he’s deeper. And without warning, he stabs his length into you, entirely, filling your throat and lungs with nothing but him.

He chuckles as you become accommodated to his thickness, lip wobbling as you realise you’ve truly never felt something so overpowering inside of you before. Other lovers, toys, nothing has ever compared to him.

“I love you,” you whimper pathetically before your eyes shoot open in realisation. You screw your eyes shut, hoping he hadn’t heard you. But of course, your voice is crystalline, and he hangs on each and every word you say.

“I just put it in, princess, is it making you a little dumb already? Fuck, you’re so fucking cute.” he kisses you fervently, his readiness to tease you eclipsed by the feeling, the realisation, that you’re wrapped around him just as he’d dreamed about. “You’re so tight, fuck, feels like you’re gonna break me.”

“Fuck, Rin…”

“I love you,” he blushes, pushing your legs into a mating press as he begins to fuck down and hard into you. You’re can barely form a coherent word, let alone a thought. But, you don’t care. You’re happy to turn your brain off after hearing that. He loves you, he really loves you.

Your tongues tangle as he pounds into you, so rough and deep you fear you might suffocate. But you’re brought to life, revitalised again and again and again as he whispers pathetically against your lips.

“I love you, l love you, IloveyouIloveyou—” every fibre of his being wills him to stop, telling him that he’s embarrassing himself. But how can that be true when each utterance of his adoration has your pliant body and addled mind squeezing his cock for all it’s worth?

Your cute little cunt so enamoured by three simple words that she’s trying to milk his cock of everything. It’s yours, it’s what you deserve, it’s what you’ve earnt for unknowingly being his girl for so many months. Each battering of his cock in your unprotected cunt leaves a bruising ache on the back of your weary legs.

He hopes he isn’t hurting you, you’re barely cognizant enough to verbalise a single syllable. And yet, somehow, you repeat his words back to him like a doting, braindead toy.

“L-Love, I love— you— Rinnie!” you manage. It’s all he needs. It’s all either of you need as his cockhead continues to knock against your g-spot and your tightness swallows him and cuddles him like he never knew he needed.

But he did know.

He’s known for so long that being in your embrace and fucking every thought out of your pretty little head would make him feel like a man reborn. Because, at the end of the day, he’s got you. He’ll always have you to find comfort in. Whether it be the warmth of your gentle hold while his head rests in your chest, ear angled to hear how your heart beats for him. Or like this. Using your perfect little walls to make you keen for him, his pretty little plaything he can empty himself inside of until you’re both spouting nothing but sweet nothings to each other.

It's for your benefit, as well as his.

You need the release just as he does.

You’ve been pent up for so long and hadn’t even realised it. But you will, now. You now know how it feels to have your body fucked into bliss and incoherent, you know how it feels to make love rather than be a flesh toy for whatever man you choose to fill the emptiness inside of you.

No more.

That will no longer suffice.

Nothing will compare to how it feels to be with Rin Itoshi. You know it as well as he does. His forehead rests against your own as he chases his release, his heart racing as even in his intoxicated mind, he’s acutely aware of what is about to happen.

Of what you are going to let him do.

He’s going to cum inside his best friend.

“C-Can I? Please, baby, let me fill you up.” he begs.

“No… not yet. Feels so good, Rin, I don’t want it to stop.” you explain. And it’s a little selfish, you can’t deny that. You’re angling for your third orgasm of this tryst. You can’t help but think of daybreak approaching and how you both might come to your senses as you’re bathed in the glow of daylight.

You’ve said I love you to each other but what does that really mean? It means you’re turned on and despite it being true, things are different when you’re sober and you sleep on mistakes you may or may not have made. A post coital world may be one in which you can’t make eye contact anymore because… how can best friends do that?

How can you explore each other so intimately and still maintain a friendship that isn’t uncomfortable, each silence that passes by may rot your consciousness of how his nose crinkles when he moans or how you sucked on his fingers like a bonafide whore just because you were lost in the moment? Things can’t be normal after that. You hold back tears as you think solemnly that this might be the last nice memory you have of each other.

And you wrap your arms around his neck, determined not to let him go and keep this nice moment as a memory you can cherish forever. One where he made you feel pleasure you didn’t know a best friend could, you didn’t know anyone could. He’s been waiting to do this with you, and you were blind to it.

You can’t help but wish things weren’t so complicated, but he can’t hold on for much longer. Even slowing his thrusts, even stopping completely, he knows he can’t hold off for much longer.

“Please, princess, I’m aching here…” he mumbles, his lips slotting against yours so perfectly, so deliciously, you can deny him no more. You nod, slowly, tears spilling over as you approach the beginning of the end. A coil tightening in your stomach as he really lets go. He uses his build to his advantage as he strives to help you attain a vision of heaven for the third and final time, his own paradisical freefall waiting in the wings.

“Mmmmmpf… fuu-uuu-uuuck, Rin! R-Rin!”

“Just like that baby, just like that. Hah~ fuck, such a good girl. So fucking pretty. You cum like an angel, fuck. Can I cum inside? Baby, please, I can’t pull out. You’re too fucking tight. Need to do it here. N-Need to give you it like this—”

He cuts himself off, unable to wait for permission as the dam blocking him bursts. He cums messily, loudly, as he spurts a thick, backed up load into you. Even with your hips angled, there’s too much to keep contained. Excess sperm leaks out of your spent hole as it twitches and oozes, and he continues to thrust into you. Even with his cock softening, he can’t seem to help himself. He keeps going, hissing and whining from a depraved, masochistic pleasure.

Even in darkness, you see how red his face has become. You put it down to overexertion, and it’s partly true. But as he unsheathes his cock, he can’t help but feel a concoction of pride and unadulterated joy as he sees your combined coupling completely soak his length.

He pants as he rolls off you, moving his head to the side as he cups your face again to make out with you. And you reciprocate, half-heartedly, as you feel the end is nigh. He quickly tucks himself into his sweats, while you dress yourself in your panties and sweats.

You feel dirty.

Lewd fluids trickle out of you and ruin your clothes, and you can’t help but feel how you always do after a hook up.

Used.

Only this time, it’s worse. You got carried away, and you’re about to lose your best friend because of it. Any thought of salvaging things dies a swift death in your mind as you think about things logically. Things can’t go back to the way they are, now. Not with burden adding tension to what was meant to be a stress-free friendship.

And still, you want to try.

You want to try and save what’s left of your friendship.

“… S-So… you definitely weren’t a virgin.” you try to joke lightly, your rigid body easing slightly when you hear him laugh.

“No, sorry. I was fucking with you, it was dumb.” he smirks. “Are you okay? Was it… okay? It sounded like you liked it.”

“Yeah… yeah. It was really… f-fun.” your lip wobbles before you start to cry, prompting him to sit up abruptly with a look of unbridled concern as he watches you sob.

“Shit, was it bad? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away, I guess? Please don’t cry.”

“N-No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you sob. “It’s just— w-well— what am I meant to do now?! T-Taking your virginity was meant to be your birthday gift and you lied!” you force yourself to laugh through your tears, hoping your excuse will be enough to hide your true feelings for now.

“Oh,” he exhales a sigh of relief, scratching the back of his neck. “You scared me.” he almost scowls, but a soft smile still plays on his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, there’s something else I want if you’re so worried about a gift for me.” he looks at you calmly as your entire face relaxes. You cock your head, curious about what he’s got in mind. He scoffs, lightly, almost in disbelief that you can’t figure it out. “I want my… best friend… to be my girlfriend.”

“… what?!” you practically scream, tears flowing harder as you wonder if you heard him right. He laughs, again, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as you continue to cry.

“Maybe you are dumber than I gave you credit for. I’ve been crazy about you for months, we just had sex and I told you I love you. You’re really surprised that I want to do that again and make you mine, officially?”

You dab at your tears with the sleeves of his hoodie, starting to laugh a little as he smiles at you. You sigh, exasperated. Your whole body is spent and you’re emotionally drained.

“I thought you were gonna think this was a mistake, G-God, I wasn’t expecting this at all.” you explain.

“Clearly,” he grins. “Well? Are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

“Oh! Y-Yeah! Of course!” you smile. His arms wrap around you, and you’ve never felt safer. You burst into a fit of laughter as he repeatedly kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere.

You lie comfortably in his arms as the two of you look up at the sky together, for the final time that night. If it weren't for the cold, you’re sure you could fall asleep like this. And it’s at that moment, you realise, just how much time has passed. The obsidian sky is no longer suffocating you, the secrets and desires you’ve held only brave enough to be exposed whilst shrouded by the shadows along with your shame for daring to hold them.

The earliest inklings of the true morning sky are breaking through the darkness. The world is about to resume as it does each day, people waking up and going about their lives. You need to sleep, but not now, not like this. You’ll go home, with Rin, as you have so many times before.

And through confessions you believed shouldn’t dared be uttered, things have changed. Things have changed in a way you hadn’t expected.

You lie comfortably in Rin’s arms, your head on his chest as he breathes gently and peacefully. His eyes closed as he savours in the euphoria he feels for all that has transpired.

Things have changed, and everything is better now.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

[hiraethwrote]

sidelines

cw: f!reader, hurt/no comfort, reader gets injured, semi proofread wc: 1.1k

meeting you was a coincidence. falling in love with you was an accident. distancing from you was a choice.

satoru still remembered the flash of heartbreak that washed over your face when he had served you a lie; i think we’re better off as friends.

it would always be carved into his mind — the sharp breath you took to settle yourself, blinking away the shy tears before you had nodded along weakly. “oh, okay.” it had barely been a whisper, but your tone would forever haunt him.

he knew it was for the best, keeping you at arms length no matter how much he hated it.

some part of him had always suspected he might have to sacrifice the experience of true love, and therefore he had never pursued it. the target on his back was just too big to be worth the risk.

nonetheless, you had come into his life like the season’s first fall of snow — unexpected.

and whatever you had done, he had fallen completely in the matter of mere moments, because when you looked at him you had seen satoru… just satoru.

when he was with you, he didn’t need to be the strongest. he wasn’t the heir to the gojo clan. he wasn’t the first sorcerer in centuries born with the six eyes.

no, when he was with you, he was satoru, the guy who hummed quietly when your fingers brushed through his hair. he was satoru, the guy who caused you frustration when he yet again forgot to bring your favourite drink that you had requested, turning in the door as quickly as he has arrived to go get it. he was satoru, the guy who was finally starting to enjoy the quiet normalcy of everyday life.

how naive you had made him.

because he had slowly started to believe that he could take a moment to breath when it came to his responsibilities, simply wallow in the warmth of your natural compassion and affection. he could lean into the soft touch of your hand and for a second forget what rested on his shoulders.

how wrong he had been, when you had accidentally found yourself witness, and also collateral damage, to one of his encounters with curses.

it happened so quickly, he hadn’t even noticed the action itself until he saw your unmoving body on the ground. never had satoru been as scared as he was the moment his eyes landed on you, certain his own heart stopped at the sight.

he quickly exorcised the troubling curses before rushing over to you, kneeling beside your unconscious body. with utmost care, he had swooped you into his arms, holding his breath as he checked for a pulse, not trusting any of his abilities to tell him, needing to physically feel the faint pumping at the side of your neck.

it felt like an entire lifetime passed before he found the soft signs of life, instantly letting out a shaky breath when he could finally confirm with his own flesh that you were still breathing.

with a bruised and bloody hand, he carefully brushed your hair out of your face to reveal a rather severe gash across your forehead.

he breathed your name, waiting to see the reactive, light raise of your eyebrows that happened subconsciously whenever he spoke the sweet tune. but your face stayed completely still, not even a single twitch in your eyelids to indicate you were waking up.

next thing he knew, he was stood in front of shoko with you in his arms, begging her to help you.

“it’s not severe,” shoko tried to reassure him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder while he sat at your bedside. “you can even take her home.”

he’d only nodded in confirmation, not daring to take his eyes off of you. he wanted to be the first thing you saw when your eyes eventually fluttered open — he was not going to miss that moment for anything.

and while he waited, he was deep in thought. churning and chewing on how best to prevent you from ever getting hurt again.

he had been lucky this time, but there was no guarantee it would end as well as it did next time, and he would stop at nothing to ensure your safety. but every idea he came up with ended with the same heartbreaking conclusion.

because the incident had him realise you were his one and only weakness — that meant you would always be in danger.

it was only a matter of time before you would not be his secret anymore. eventually it was bound to be a common fact in the jujutsu world, that there was one way to have the strongest sorcerer at their mercy.

satoru would not be able to live with himself if that was the case.

the safest thing for you was to break your heart — tell you that it wasn’t working. he had just been caught up in the intensity of the honeymoon phase, swept up in the comfort you had provided. which was all true, the lie was saying those feelings had passed.

but he was the strongest — who better to protect you than him? so the earnest preposition of friendship had been his way of being able to keep an eye on you without directly exposing you to the dangers of his world.

now his future was destined to be nothing but torture.

he would eventually see the sparkle in your eye return when you finally got over him. and when that happened, which he knew it would, he waited in despair for the day you would fall in love again.

you would trail your fingers through the hair of a person that wasn’t him. your eyes would stare hearts at a face that wasn’t his. at night, when you were sound asleep, your breathing would move in unison with someone who was not him — but you would be safe, shied away from the world he was forever trapped to serve.

satoru would torture himself for eternity, be a helpless audience in the theatre of your life, watch you indulge in all the happiness life had to offer, if it meant he wouldn’t put you in danger.

after meeting you, satoru had learned he wasn’t really a person meant to love from a distance. the love he had for you was all over him, supposed to be loaded onto the one person it belonged to; you. his devotion for you was so big and all consuming, filling any void he found himself in.

but if it was from the sidelines he would get to see you live — it was in the sidelines he would stay.

a/n sorry

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[dailypenpen]

What do Genshin Men think of with you in their arms? (pt.1)

characters: Diluc, Xiao, and Kazuha.

notes: insecurities (Xiao) but other than that fluff. gn reader, only you pronouns used.

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic. ever. omg. this is nervewracking. I do hope everyone enjoys!!

Diluc thinks he does not deserve to be loved. The people he cherished most have slipped past his fingers like sand. And similarly to sand, the hourglass of time pulls these connections apart. He sits at the top, desperately trying to reach for the ones that have fallen away. Only tears reaching towards the bottom of the glass. Almost mocking him.

So he does not understand why you still stay. Why you are here sleeping peacefully by his side. Why you snuggle closer to him, your fingers grasping for him even in your sleep. Diluc feels like he can't breathe. Diluc can't fathom your actions, your love, your care, you most of all—

And yet, he accepts your hands reaching for him. Bringing them around his waist as he presses you close to his chest. His lips coming close to your ear as he whispers sweet nothings. His eyes staring at your sleeping form, the corner of his eyes crinkling with the thought of you. You who have stayed despite everything he's done to push everyone away. Diluc has always kept everyone from arm's reach, yet you somehow managed to instead be within his arms.

He supposes he should reward your efforts, at the very least.

Diluc brings your shared blanket up closer for the two of you. To perhaps shield you from this cruel world, he muses to himself. To be the only one to see such a sight. He continues staring at you with a tenderness that he believes you deserve from him.

He thinks he couldn't fall any more in love with you. But when you smile in your rest, soft and warm and full of life. Well, Diluc sighs as he holds you closer. Maybe there truly is no limit in loving someone as great as you. Someone who makes him believe that he alone is worthy to be held. To be held by someone like you.

"You are the reason why I dream, my love."

Xiao thinks that you are utterly ridiculous. You only remember to call his name when you are falling midway from a tall peak from Jueyun Karst? Did you not think of calling him when you were out trekking so that he could come with you to ensure your safety? Or even before that, when you first went out of the inn to go?

The wind around you moves with a great swiftness that it's almost hard to miss, but you can recognize it anywhere. He grabs you, quickly holding you in his arms. Xiao looks down at you in disappointment, quickly moving to the ground to rest his feet on. You open your mouth to speak, to defend yourself. But even before you can, his narrowed eyes quickly shut down any word you wanted to say. You opt to give him a sheepish grin in return.

His eyes instantly soften as you smile at him. How? He furrowed his eyebrows at you. How could a mortal like you not have any regard for your own safety? Why risk your life with no insurance that you'll get out unscathed? Or at the very least, alive?

He pulls you closer to him without meaning to, without realizing. He refuses to bring you down to the ground. To let you leave his arms. His breathing is ragged, his arms shaking at the countless thoughts that plague his mind. What if you never called out his name? What if Xiao couldn't hear you, couldn't save you?

Xiao's grip tightens on you more, yet he is careful to not hurt you.

You stay silent, not wanting to disrupt Xiao's thoughts. Your hand moves up to his cheek, rubbing circles in an effort to calm him. Xiao flinches at your touch. You slowly retract your hand away yet he leans towards your hand. Wanting your touch. Knowing that you are safe in his arms.

He stares at you, eyes vulnerable. The one thing he hated showing to anyone. Showing how he, as inhuman as he claims to be, cares. That you brought a weakness he desperately tries to hide. That you are a weakness.

"Be careful next time, my light."

Kazuha thinks you are beyond precious. The both of you are admiring the view of the sea from the Crux, nuzzled up to one another. The Crow's Nest (you once jokingly called it the Kazu's Nest with how frequently he goes up there) is the perfect place for the two of you to cuddle without the rest of the crew spotting you. To escape their endless teasing. Especially from Captain Beidou.

You absentmindedly play with his hair, the ponytail now loose as you continue running your hands through it. He chuckles softly at your mindless actions. You truly are adorable, aren't you? Kazuha muses to himself. He wishes he could write a poem about this very moment, to memorialize it. To engrave it onto his very memory.

Yet, he does not. He stays silent. He knows that it's enough that you are with him, that you are content in his embrace and that he is in yours. That no manner of poetry is enough to encapsulate his deep affection for you. To express his joy in being with you. To somehow portray your very essence in a few words.

He knows it's near impossible to summarize you, that would be unfair to your divine beauty. Can a single word even begin to describe who you are to him? Wondrous, heavenly, or maybe even godsent? Kazuha shakes his head in dissatisfaction. No, those aren't the right words either.

The sea rocks the boat and you squeak while gripping his clothes, afraid to move suddenly with the boat. Kazuha smiles at you, patting your head. You grin back at him, releasing your grip on him. Yet Kazuha quickly grasps your hands in his, earning a small gasp from you. He chuckles again, his eyes so full of love. Almost bursting out of the seams.

You laugh with him, and he looks at you like you're his entire world. Kazuha thinks he can finally have a way to describe you. You, the person whom he always wants to rest with. His one constant in his life of being a vigilante and vagabond. The one person in his entire life that he knows that no matter what he's faced, what he's experienced, will always be with him no matter what. That you are the one person he ever truly wanted.

Kazuha brings your hand close to his lips, kissing them delicately.

"You are my home, darling."

Please consider liking and reblogging!!

[just-some-user-hunny]

Yandere vampire hunter D

‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊Yandere D and his obsession ♡...

~✧ Having D as your yandere is a complex experience. He wants to be close, but he stays far away. He needs to make sure you're safe, but please don't see him. He cannot bear the pain of your rejection.

~✧ Unlike his reputable existence- he's not a cruel yandere. he's too gentle for a dhampir, but too unorthodox for a human. He's an entity all of his own- a strange creature that beckons silently and unexpectedly under to your heed and calls for help, without you even knowing it.

~✧ He's a stalking yandere who watches and protects you from far away- he'll always be the eerie extra set of footsteps that follow accompany you home. He's the shadow who occupies the darkness that lingers in doorways- the shape of a foreboding figure leering silently in your home when you think you're all alone... Unaware of the filthy vampires blood that wets his blade, the one that stalked you home that very evening. He took care of it, but you don't need to know that.

~✧ He is always near- as much as he can spare, when he is not hunting the creatures whom he shares blood with. It is not often that he parts from your shadow from afar, and traverses away from the direction of your sweet breath and presence- but when he does, you'll always linger in the back of his mind.

~✧"I mean it D. This is getting dangerous now". The parasite will seeth quietly, only to be wordlessly silenced with a stern commanding grip. This is of no concern to you, stay out of this.

~✧ The parasite will grumble and huff. Of course this is of concern to him. He can see every dark crevice of this dhampires mind- and frankly he's tired of the constant presence of you occupying it. Your name, your face, your hair, your figure, your blood-

~✧ Silence. D will command with a cool, icy tone. Peeved.

~✧ D has vowed to protect you from everything that means harm, and he means everything. Even himself. He can deny all he wants, but he knows his urges will always be lurking within him- no matter how hard he resists. Be assured he's a damn good fighter, but it will urge him to stay away further for the sake of your safety.

He is half human like you, yes- but he also has the blood of vampyre. Dark depraved creatures of the night that desire blood and agony. He cannot deny himself of his own existence, he has tried well and truly- and this obsession of his won't change that.

The parts of him that reveal are always soft and lenient. Subtle and protective. If only you could see the darkness of his desires that twist and coil within him like a nest of asps. Slithering and hissing with poison and desire.

~✧ But believe it when I say this, he is not a sadistic creature. Especially towards you. He may hunger for you, desires of possession and adoration grasping at his cold heart- but trust that no harm will ever come to you. Especially by his own hand or word. Does he frighten you with his daunting height and unnerving presence? Very well. He'll stay out of sight, appearing nothing more than a shadow in your footsteps. Does being followed home scare you? Then he shall take care in not getting too close then- close enough where you are within his sights, but not close enough where you can hear his steady and even footsteps following in your own tracks.

~✧ As time goes on and you inevitably catch onto his presence, things will gradually change. There's only so many times you awake to find yourself properly tucked into bed after collapsing onto your couch after a long day at work, or capture a glimpse of the tall foreboding shadow in your doorway to use the same excuse of exhaustion to explain it. It's not just paranoid fueled visions anymore.

~✧ However, much to your chagrin and determination to expose whoever this mysterious guardian angel of yours is, he'll never expose himself. He can't afford it. You'll often be left feeling like a fool as you call out into the dark street for whoever he is to appear- only to be met with the stillness of the lonely night and sound of cicadas chirping softly in the grass.

~✧ The only scenario in which he would ever approach and expose his identity, is if you were in trouble. Still- once the threat is gone, and you are safe, he's eager to dispel back into the shadows.

~✧ The thing with D as a yandere, is that he's fully lucid about what he's doing is... Wrong. But he can't help himself. Often he is troubled with the morals of his own doing- a neverending internal debate. Thoughts upon thoughts spiral and twist into an endless entangling web, and all he can do is mull over it and helplessly tangle at his own thoughts with a distant stare and tongue held between his sharp teeth. Brooding and mulling.

~✧ He knows this isn't right. His desires to protect you are more than that of a silent saviour- he's not doing this for a reward or thanks- he's not looking for your gratitude or admiration. He's selfish. So selfish. You are something that occupies the loneliness that will forever haunt him- keeping you alive is all he has left to grasp upon to give him hope for a life beyond this bleak ongoing existence of his.

~✧ He's so selfish when he imagines you waiting at home for him. Selfish when he imagines holding you, gazing upon you adoringly because he's missed you after a long day's work.

~✧ He won't admit these little fantasies of his- his yearnings for a life of his own. He doesn't dare say them out loud- like an unspoken dream that'll fade if ever spoken. A silly whimsy of a naive child who doesn't know any better...

~✧ These little thoughts will stay his. Only he can keep these delusional conjured memories- they're the only ones he can keep.

~✧ So please, take no mind of him. Live freely in the light as he guards you in the shadows. Take your fill of life and death sweetly and peacefully, all under the watchful eye and encompassing cloak of night of none other than vampire hunter D

I'm admittedly not quite sure if I like this or not, I feel a little in the dark with his character due to only watching the two movies (?), and knowing there's novels out there that'll explain his lore and character in much more depth.

If there's anyone who knows more about vampire hunter D, I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas!

[risuola]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 ⋯ heaven lost its most beautful angel.

contents ✤ archangel!satoru x demon!reader, smut (nipple play, oral, maybe a tad bit borderline dubcon-ish?, corruption, some dirty talk), a lot of religious topics mentioned (not always in the best light), wc. 4639 ⋯ reader discretion is advised series masterlist

Born from pure nothing, Satoru has only got to know happiness. An illusion of it, a sort of safety that comes with stability in life. And it is good. He is, after all, the honored one, an archangel, the highest prince of Heaven, standing by the side of the king — God, a father of every creation, his father. Blessed by His favor, throughout centuries of existence, Satoru has only ever experienced bliss. Despite him being the last one created, the youngest of a bunch of archangels, he is the most perfect display of what God is capable of. A favorite, the purest and most innocent, a pristine mirror of excellence that could have only been made by a hand of his beloved father.

It’s beautiful, it really is. People worship divinities, the faith is blind and the angel has never had to do much to enforce the proper beliefs whenever there was a doubt born. With his role to serve God’s purpose and fulfill His will, Satoru traveled and shown up in many places in the world, making sure the evolvement of humanity goes along the lines of the greater plan. Of something a simple human isn’t capable of comprehending. But it’s endearing, he thinks.

He watches it from above, his eyes able to engulf all of the crowd — he has always had good eyes. Throughout the hundreds of years since his creation, he’s got to witness the ups and downs of people’s development and with ease on his mind he just knows that no matter what times bring and take, the faith will stay rooted into the simple mortal minds. Or so he thought before the balance of the world shifted again.

Demons and devils have never been a foreign topic in the spectrum of religion — they’re a part of what makes the good feel good, they’re what’s bad and ugly. Popping here and there from time to time they usually made for a short entertainment for Mikael’s army and Satoru remembers just few of severe conflicts that took place on earth and one that happened at the gates of Heaven. Great losses were suffered at the times, his brothers and sisters that had lost the fights will always stay in his memory, but with the progression of time, the rate of haunts and possessions didn’t go much higher. Satoru actively makes sure to eradicate every doubt that blooms in poor little hearts of the gullible and vulnerable.

“Filthy creatures,” Azrael grumbles, his voice dry and harsh as he watches alongside Satoru yet another crowd of humans that carelessly stray from the right path and into the world of sin. “Their pathetic souls are yet to cry at the gates and plead for mercy when it’s their own choices that bring them down to hells. It should be easier for them to resist such primitive urges.”

“Father has made them the way they are for a reason, brother,” the white-haired one lightens up but the angel of death beside shows no change of attitude. “Faith is a choice and not a given but even if it’s only in the face of demise, every soul that has found God at some point deserves to be blessed.”

“Sometimes it seems as if watching them for so many centuries has rubbed their naivety across your feathers, Satoru,” Azrael lets out a sigh and spreads out his wings. Large and rich in dark feathers cast a shadow looming over his brother’s stature but the younger one only smiles at the sight. There’s an exchange of appreciative nods and their ways part.

Satoru isn’t naïve. He has always been more than capable of cold-thinking and calculating his actions, despite being known for a tender heart and gentle soul. The ways in which he acts are contained in the frames of necessity, he doesn’t go for the flashy displays of power and divinity. He likes to gently encourage people, hint the right paths so that they can realize where to go and how to live the rest of the time they’re given. Most of them find what’s there to discover, an enlightenment. Lord is merciful, benevolent. There are no ends to His love.

Then why people toss it away? Silly, silly creatures.

But then, times change again and as the world evolves and church begins to lose its influence, Satoru looks around with troubled mind. It seems as if people have lost direction again, finding themselves at the crossroads with unknown ends. Wrong people are taking highest spots in the hierarchy, preaching wrong words to the wrong crowds. And it crumbles, falls like a house of cards, trapping some inside and pushing away others. It’s terrible, he thinks, as his bright blue eyes meet the cloudy surface of doubt and uncertainty. And demons, them again, thrive like they never did before.

Now more than ever, little devils crawl out of the gates of Hell and poison humanity with their heinous games. Some morph themselves into forms akin to humans, blend in and start cults in the name of Lucifer and some stay true to themselves, haunting people here and there, testing their resolves, putting their faith to trials. More and more people are leaving God’s side. It’s bad, it’s unacceptable. Those demons—

“An angel?” —demons like you; devil with a face of an angel. “Even better,” you smile, but there’s nothing but malice in the gesture, “an archangel,” you inhale the divine scent that surrounds a man in front. That’s what brought you here, to a house that seemed to be stained in his divine energy. You tend to haunt the biggest believers, it’s fun to see them crumble, but you didn’t expect an actual saint. “It must be my lucky day,” you purr. Lovely.

Satoru has been warned about you before he moved onto his quest to rid the world of the dark powers that spread its tendrils among humans and it only took a short glimpse before he knew that it’s you who his brothers have been telling him about. It’s you who is told to bring angels down to Hell, to cause their banishment from Heaven. He’s lost one of his siblings because of your wrongdoings. You’re nothing but bad news, a demon so beautiful you’d easily convert even the most devoted believer into a sinner. You’ve been spreading nothing but doubt and fear, savoring the fruit of your doings with pleasure. You’re having fun on earth, it’s much more entertaining than all hells combined. You love to hear how people blame gods for every inconvenience when you can clearly see what led them down the path of bad luck. You whisper little hints into their non-expecting ears, encourage them and watch the dread wash over their faces. It's a cruel game you play but it's rooted deeply into your nature.

“It’s an odd excitement in your voice, demon,” Satoru retorts firmly and his eyes follow you as you circle him. It’s predatory, he feels like a pray underneath your curious, taunting gaze and he nags himself for it — he’s above you, you’re just a demon. There’s nothing you can do to break his spirit, he’s above all your tricks.

“Oh, forgive me,” you lower your head, but nothing in the gesture spells disrespect more than a smirk that dances on your mouth. Slowly you make your way back in front of him and then, you plop onto the bed to your right. You bounce few times on the soft mattress and dart your head up, looking at him, challenging him. He refuses.

“You’re in no search of forgiveness.”

“What gave it away?” You’re cocky, huffing an air out of your lungs in a voiceless chuckle and tilting your head more to the side. There’s a danger to your silhouette, you’re confident. You are a sin.

Satoru lets out a sigh and his eyes narrow. “What could have not given it away?” He questions and yet another laugh cuts through the otherwise silent atmosphere of the room. It’s melodic, it’s… pretty?

“Smart boy… Your name?”

“Satoru.”

“Not truly a name I expected,” you bare your teeth in a smile and Satoru notices the sharpness of your fangs. They are not quite animalistic but much sharper than his own. It fits.

“I travel through people a lot, I have taken a name akin to their own,” he explains, keeping his tone somewhat dry as he studies you. You’re not demonic per se. In fact, you’re barely even scary if he compares you to the thousands of demons he’s encountered in his existence. They are usually tainted with darkness, often bearing features of animals or mystical creatures. Scales and horns seemed to be usual on their bodies and eyes that shown nothing but abyss, but you — you’re nothing of it. You seem too inviting. There’s attractiveness to the way you look; your eyes are a little lidded and engulfed by rows of eyelashes, your lips seem as if they were created specifically to tempt, to kiss. Your frame doesn’t stray from what Satoru would see among humans and your skin doesn’t bear any signs of disfigure or scales. If not for the aura that surrounds you and the way mischief glints in your eyes, one could easily mistake you with an actual angel. No wonder why it is so easy for you to spread doubt.

“That’s fair,” you shrug and push yourself up. As you pass Satoru, a chill runs down his back as the darkness stretches behind you. He watches as you look around the place, running your fingertips across the surface of the desk and few shelves. You touch the spines of books that decorate them, tenderly rub the top of the ceramic figure in a shape of a little cherub. There’s something cat-like in a way you curiously explore the area, seemingly oblivious to the watchful gaze that follows you.

“If turning into nothing isn’t on your list of wishes, I’d advise you to go back where you came from,” the angel speaks after a little while, taking a step into your direction and you chuckle, sparing him a short glance from the corner of your eye. It’s brief, but it makes him stop.

“Good advice,” you muse, taunting him with the intonation of the syllables and he hates how easily you throw him off balance. “I’m not the best in following instructions though.”

“You seem to struggle with more than just that.” It’s a jab and you raise your eyebrow before you fully turn towards him. It’s only an accident that you knock the little figurine off the shelf and it breaks against the hardwood floor. “Your playtime on earth is over, demon.”

“Oh, my playtime on earth has just begun, angel.”

“If you refuse to comply, I’ll be forced to take you to Heaven where you’ll be trialed and punished for every deplorable crime you have committed against the greater plan of God.”

“There’s no need for me to go up to Heaven when I see Heaven came down to me,” you chuckle, resting your eyes on his face for few seconds before you allow them to run down his figure and you admire. He is a sight to behold, a stature of toned flesh and muscles balanced into something truly divine. “I need to admit, you’re very nice on the eyes. Such a beautiful angel.”

Oh, you’re dangerous. Your voice just like honey warms Satoru from the inside out. He feels his heart rate increasing and his breathing becoming shallower as you admire him so openly. He should be used to it, he is used to being worshipped by mortals, but not by a creature of your kind. He watches you approach him, your steps confident between the ceramic pieces of a broken cherub and he feels his resolve begin to falter as you playfully prod his chest with your long, pointy nail. Then you drag it down his pectoral, run it across his stomach and he grabs your wrist before you reach his waistline.

“I will not play your games, demon,” he states, looking you in the eyes with forced calm and firm voice.

“No? You seem to be a little… troubled.”

“Do not mistake my confusion for submission. I am an archangel, I will not allow myself to be corrupted by your alluring presence,” he states a little too harshly and he hates it. There’s something so utterly irresistible about you that makes him think of giving in. It makes him want to taste the temptation and deep down he knows that he had already lost. His thoughts are consumed by the pictures of you, it’s against everything he knows, it’s against everything he is.

And it’s all that you are. A play of taunt and seduction. A wild, untamed soul entangled in dark shades of evil, a temptress with one objective rooted deeply into your core. Chaos.

“I am sure you can resist me,” you tease, getting even closer and you lean in, running the tip of your nose along the side of his neck. “Oh, you smell so good. So pure and innocent.”

“Enough.” He groans and it’s final. You laugh, but he doesn’t find it funny. Your hot breath lingers on his skin long after you distance yourself from him. Your hands raise in a mock surrender but it’s only a moment before you resume your game.

“You know what I find interesting?” A question leaves your mouth as you twirl in the dim light of the nightstand lamp and sit on top of the window edge. The night wind gently messes your hair and your eyes twinkle with the spark of playful evil. “You, angels, are always so strict and set that you don’t need any pleasure and all… why would it be?” Your tone is a derision of curiosity, you carefully pick and choose your words to form sentences obscure, unclear.

“My body has been crafted with a purpose much greater than to experience carnal needs and craves,” he says, firm on his beliefs despite the warmth coursing through his veins. “Human pleasures stand below my existence; the essence of an archangel is much more monumental. I was designed, both in mind and body, to focus solely on my duties and responsibilities, leaving no room for personal desires.” The answer is practiced, it flows in a way he’s used to tell it, however this time he knows that he’s lying to himself and everyone else. He’s lying in front of a demon, and oh, you know so well that he does. It’s amusing. It’s delicious. You want more. You want to break him.

“If that would be the case, why did your beloved god create you with a dick, huh?” You’re blunt, too blunt for Satoru’s liking but he has to let that slide, otherwise he’d flush bright red.

“My creator did not intend me to experience sexual pleasure. Instead, He believes I should focus solely on my sacred duties without being distracted by carnal desires.” He tries again, internally feeling all of his defenses crumbling and you laugh, as if you can tell the words mean nothing.

“I bet I could make you cum by as much as flicking my tongue over your nipple.”

There goes the blush. Satoru feels it creep up his chest and neck, his face and to the tips of his ears. The deep shade of crimson contrasts starkly against his pale complexion and pristine white hair and he closes his eyes, tries to compose himself but your giggles make it so difficult. You’re content, he knows it, you’re a demon, for god’s sake. It’s your tactic to break humans, a form of pulling at the most primal strings, but he’s not a human, he’s above all of them, he shouldn’t break just like that. It’s a turmoil. Satoru hates the feeling, he hates the way his body, the perfect creation designed by his father, reacts to the picture you planted into his mind. It shouldn’t be happening, why is this happening?

“Breathe, angel,” your voice is a whisper, it’s right against Satoru’s mouth. He feels your breath on his skin, the tip of your nose running down his cheek, your tongue tracing his jawline. His heart struggles to keep up, it’s too much, it’s too close, you’re too much. Inhale. Exhale. He forces himself to breathe, a little too shallow, a little too fast. His body is tense, you’re too close.

He won’t do this.

All defense mechanisms flare up in Satoru’s body, he stills, his eyes stay squeezed shut. Your hands dance atop of his shoulders, trace the shapes of his form and he feels you. You toy with him, your claws run down his chest, your fingertips tease the edges of his neckline, the white collar of his shirt. Calm down. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, he shouldn’t feel it. Why does it feel right? It’s not right. It’s not angelic, you’re a demon, you want to corrupt him, to destroy him.

He cannot do this.

His fists clench up to his sides and you hum the softest melodies under your breath, as you lean in more and more. You exhale, but it’s different than his ragged breaths. You’re relaxed, he doesn’t have to see you to know you’re smiling. You take a step and he takes one back. It’s paralyzing. Satoru’s thoughts are overtaken by pictures of you, by pictures he has never allowed himself to project. It’s one of your tricks, isn’t it?

He can’t—

It feels warm. His whole body feels warm and it coils, somewhere below his bellybutton, a knot of tension he has yet to experience. It puts a haze to his thoughts, blurs the persistent image of your sinful tongue and he doesn’t understand it fully. A sequence of twitches and trembles send his mind into panic and he falls. His knees buckle, the edge of the mattress causes them to bend and he grabs onto the closest thing, onto you, when his body drops onto the mattress. The soft bounce ripples through him and he feels you above him. You giggle, it’s quiet and playful and it vibrates through the skin over his collarbone the moment you press your lips there.

“S-stop,” he mutters. It’s a weak plea concurring with a feeble squeeze on your hips. His eyes flare open, he feels feverish. You’re right on top of him but not quite touching him enough. Your hips are in the air, you’re taking it slow, you like to play with your prey.

“Yeah? You want me to stop?” You coo. Patronizing tone of your voice envelop him in a veil of mockery and he heats up again. Your dainty, swift fingers deal with the buttons before he has a chance to notice, his fogged-up mind struggling to keep up. “You’re gonna have to be more convincing than this, angel.”

He—

Your tongue circle around his nipple and Satoru moans. It’s a cry, a sound of an angel falling into a trap of a demon. An angel losing itself in something unholy, tasting the fruit that’s forbidden. And you smile against his skin, teasing the hardening bud with your teeth. They’re sharp against his sensitive skin and he hisses shortly before you soothe the ache with the warmth of your muscle. It’s wet and hot against his skin and Satoru’s brain short-circuit.

Your hand explores his stomach, tracing the stretched-out muscles that twitch every time you touch them. He arches off the bed, his body leaning into the sin while his mind tries to fight it — a losing battle of everything that’s divine in him against the carnal desires that weren’t supposed to be there.

Lust is a foreign concept to Satoru. He’s seen it in humans, he’s seen souls losing their purity to the wicked pleasures. He’s seen those shameless people giving into lascivious lifestyles, searching for stimulus so depraved and vulgar that each time he witnessed them, he wondered how could one’s faith loose to something so salacious. How could God create such weakness, but he believed that even the souls that lost their path in the indecency could find a way back into the Father’s grace. Would he be able to get back?

“P—haah—please,” he whimpers, pathetic against all of his instincts and his hand finds the back of your head. Your hair feels soft against his palm, like silk and honey and he shivers at the contact. You’re unbothered by his attempts, licking and sucking his delicate skin as if he’s one of those desserts people like so much.

Satoru’s nipples are swollen, the skin around them red from your frisky abuse. More and more sounds escape his mouth, it’s pathetic, how he whines underneath you, how you rendered him completely helpless. And he panics again. It feels odd, his body tenses and he doesn’t know why. Hot blood floods down his body, it feels torturously tight in his pants. He twitches, his fingers curl against your head, tugging at the beautiful threads of your hair and his eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, it’s too hot. It’s wet, it feels sticky against his sensitive skin. A wave of relief washes over him, it tickles something inside his brain just the right way. It’s feels gratifying, addicting. Is that what pleasure feels like? Are those stars dancing in front of his eyes a sign of fulfillment? Satoru’s mind is hazy, everything feels blurry, but he relaxes into the feeling. His thigh still trembles, the lower parts of his stomach muscles contract a little less now, a little slower and he feels it in his pants. It’s satisfying, it’s foreign. It’s a bliss.

“Did my beautiful, beautiful angel made a mess?” You coo once more and it sounds a little less mocking than all of your previous sentences. Or maybe it’s Satoru’s mind playing tricks on him.

“Y-yeah… I think I did,” he pants out. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, on the heavens above and he wonders if He saw that? Father sees everything. Have Satoru’s brothers also witnessed that? Were they enjoying the front row seats to his demise?

You’re already on your way down, pressing sinful kisses to his sacred body as your fingers undo the button of his pants and pull down the zipper. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” you purr, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him. You pull the fabric down. His boxers are wet as you peel them off his body. Hot strings of cum stretch between his skin and underwear, it coats his cock and the flesh around it, trickling down to his balls.

You gasp at the sight, it’s truly a vision of pure angelic glory. He’s hard, still, the veins pulsate ever so slightly around the thick girth, leading your eyes to the pink, glistening tip. “You surely are his favorite,” you muse before your tongue darts out, eager to taste him.

Satoru’s breath hitches in his chest and he hesitates to look down. Maybe if he doesn’t see it, it won’t be as bad of a sin, maybe it’s not his end. But it sure does feel good. Is he allowed to feel good? He moves his head, eyes dropping lower until they meet the sight of you. You shot him a smile, a grin worthy of a devil as you lap at the white seed sticking to his flesh. It’s lewd, the way your tongue works around his curves and edges. He hears your soft purr; he feels it every time your lips close around the sensitive tip of his cock. It’s messy, your chin is slick from his spent, there’s some on the tip of your nose, it coats your reddened mouth and greedy fingers. “You taste divine,” you murmur, tracing the underside of his member with the flat of your tongue and then, your hand wraps around him. The gentle pressure squeezes a moan out of Satoru’s mouth. He can’t look away. Not when your eyes are fixed on him. He sees the glint of mischief in the color of your eyes, it’s almost reddish as it glows in the dim lights.

You play with him, eliciting moan after moan from his troubled body, feeding of the internal turmoil that seeps through his skin making him that much more delectable. Your mouth works in tandem with the steady pumps of your hand and you feel him twitching already. He’s so innocent, so inexperienced that you just know he’s gonna come too soon, but it excites you. You want more from him, he’s sweet on your tongue, addicting. And oh, isn’t he beautiful? With his face contorting in pleasure, his cheeks flushed in an adorable shade of deep red and eyebrows drawn together. His lips red and bitten, parted just slightly to let all those sweet whimpers escape. His eyes are blissfully glazed, the blue oceans wet with tears and shaky. What a sight.

And then he moans again, those cerulean orbs disappear from your vision as his lids drop down. His back lifts off the bedsheets, hands clenching against the soft cotton and you see his head tilting back as orgasm overwhelms him. His hips buck upwards, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he sprouts his seed, painting the inside of your mouth white. You pump him through it, prolonging the pleasure.

“What a sight,” you purr, licking away any traces of sin from his skin. “All clean. It’s as if nothing happened,” and here is your usual taunt. “Well, I guess your boxers do give it away, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t respond. Heart trashes in Satoru’s chest as he slowly comes down from the intense high he’s experienced, he gasps on air desperately and releases all the tensed muscles. A smile stretches his lips, he huffs at first, and then laughs helplessly, as tears run down his cheekbones.

“You’re gonna leave me here, broken and useless,” he says, as you climb upwards and lean to kiss the salty drops off his face. “Are you happy? I bet you are, demon.”

His tone is odd, it’s both colder than before and softer at the same time. It’s accusing, it’s hopeless. “I can’t say I’m not satisfied,” you tell him and he scoffs, turning his head towards you and you drop onto the bed next to his defeated body. There’s a sin now engraved down to the very morrow of his bones, his chastity stained irrevocably and his soul threatening to shatter. “But I don’t wish to leave you here to your demise.”

“Oh no? What do you wish for then?”

“Besides the obvious desire to fuck you, I’d be content if you stayed with me here, on earth.”

“So vulgar,” he exhales, his body both cringing at the sound and getting excited all over again. “I was not created to fuck.”

“I think I proved my point that you’re perfectly capable of those primitive carnal desires you declined so much.”

Satoru closes his eyes. How did that happen, how could that happen? It must’ve been a cruel joke. He’s an archangel, God’s favorite, he’s the honored one. He was supposed to be above all demonic tricks and seductions, those devilish powers have never reached him for hundreds of years. And now, what is he supposed to do?

“I suppose heaven won’t take me back now,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. Maybe if he seeks penance, maybe if he atones for his sins.

“What a shame,” you muse, cupping his cheek in your palm. Your finger trace idle circles into the skin over his cheekbone; it’s a delicate touch and you feel how hot his face is, damp from the tears and flushed. “Heaven lost its most beautiful angel.”

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[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 3

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: Grief/depression

The Spring Court lake had weathered the same depletion as the rest of the state. Empty wooden cabins sat abandoned and unused, the sand had turned grey and the flourishing fruit trees that once aligned it hacked down to stumps. Hybern had drained Spring Court of so much of its natural resource and beauty. 

“It’s a disturbing sight, isn’t it?” your uncle muttered, placing two steaming mugs of tea at the table beside you, joining you on the porch. His bark-like skin had weathered and aged since the last time you had seen him, untold sorrows hiding in his deep within the ripples. What atrocities had he witnessed during the war? And what bargains had he had to make to keep his own cabin standing amongst a sea of homes destroyed?

“I’m so sorry Finbark. I should have returned to help you sooner,” you said, your heart clenching as the males eyes warmed with a pain smile. 

“I did not write for a reason. I would never want to drag you into this mess,” he said, waving his hand to the desolate land around him. “Not when you were so aligned with an enemy court.”

You raised the mug to your lips, casting your eyes to the lake before blowing on the hot liquid. He was right, you had no business entering Spring Court at a time like that, never mind that you were completely preoccupied with serving your duties alongside Cassian and Azriel. Gods, your heart ached more than it should just at the thought of them.

You cleared your throat quietly, trying not to dwell. “It sparkles the same,” you spoke distantly, distracting yourself. “The lake, I mean. It still sparkles in the way I remember.”

Finbark chuckled, his eyes warming again. “You and Meryl spent so much time in that lake, I remember your parents debating on how they would have to bribe the two of you out of it.”

You forced a smile back, clenching your mug a little tighter. 

“It was the same for my cousin’s nephews, they adored playing in the water, they would beg their Aunt to come stay for weeks on end.”

“Whatever happened to them?” you asked, unsure if you could handle the truth. 

“Of Alis and the boys?” He paused then, clearing his throat. “They fled to Summer, with some luck and no deniable assistance from your High Lady.”

You had to physically swallow at Feyre’s mention, but the relief was greater to know Finbark’s family was safe. “Well, she’s no longer my High Lady,” you corrected. 

“I’m sorry, I don't mean to upset you.”

“Not at all Fin,” you smiled softly before drawing a deep breath. “I know she is a generous and caring ruler, and I’m grateful your family is safe. I only wish I could have done more.”

“I was protected too Y/N. How do you think it is my home is still standing, or that I am here at all? I’m clever, but not that clever,” he winked. “I have no doubt my relation to Alis and your parents kept me well and safe during the war. No wagons found the trail to my home, no one knocked on my door demanding answers or resources, or to pick up a weapon and fight. It was if I didn't exist at all.”

It clicked then – of course. Alis had been Feyre’s maid at the Spring Manor. Feyre had spoken of her so fondly. And you had been so worried for Finbark’s safety, confiding in your High Lady who had merely comforted you at the time, reassuring you that he would be safe. She and Rhys never mentioned their connection, or the magic they spent to keep Finbark hidden. Your heart ached at the reminder of their generosity. 

“Y/N?” your uncle waved a rippled hand in front of your face, and you blinked before straightening, drawn back from your thoughts. 

Fin sighed with a knowing look. “You don't need to feel guilty about the magic that kept me safe, sweetheart. They wronged you in a very serious way.” 

Your eyebrows clenched as you blinked back the sting of tears. “But they are good people Fin, the lot of them.”

Finbark’s hand rested atop of your forearm, his face soft with understanding. “It changes very little, young spark. The damage is all the same.” Your uncle once again waved his hand out to the barren land around you.

You stood now, setting your tea down – you needed to get out of your head. “I will make one more trip to town tonight, there are some homes still without firewood.”

“At this time? You’ve been working since dawn Y/N, why not rest? It’s not as cold tonight.”

But you were already reaching for your axe. The more you moved, the less you would have to think. “It’ll be alright uncle, I’ll return before midnight.”

He didn't say anything further as you sheathed the weapon to your back, heading up the trail to town where the sun had already began to set. 

————

It had been five months since you had found home in Spring Court. 

At first, you found work serving your uncle’s town. Much of the remaining fae had rural upbringing, with little skill to sustain themselves after their farms, once lush with crops and animals, were destroyed. 

Word spread quick of help from an outside court, and when you were sure the locals could stand on their own two feet, you began to travel, finding town after town with more fae in need. So began your course, trailing further away from your uncle’s cabin at the border and nearing the centre of the court.

Magic found you easier here too. Whether it was the exhaustion from a hard days worth of work, or that you rarely had a moment to think about yourself, you didn't know.

Soon enough, you learned to summon your sparks, lighting fires in homes in an instant or heating food and teas for the ill. It wasn’t much, but you had never yielded so much control, and didn't remember a day when you hadn't feared your abilities since Meryl’s death. Finbark was particularly delighted when you showed him your new trick, clapping with a cheer, reminding you of why he dubbed you young spark.

So much of Spring Court reminded you of your sister, and while it had never been your home, memories of pleasant holidays surrounded by loved ones seemed to wait at every garden, field or bubbling brook you encountered. You welcomed those memories, letting grief wash over you when it came, using it to fuel your determination to keep on working. Grief was a weapon of kinds, and you were only now learning to yield it. You would build a better world for those who were left behind, just like you. 

And over the course of those months, the land around you slowly came to life. Not from your work alone, but as the fae of Spring Court worked together to heal and rebuild, the land began to give back. The grass was greener and more lush now, flowers blossomed instead of dying at the bud, and trees bristled as gentle breezes passed through their luscious leaves. The land wasn’t yet singing, but it began to hum – it was healing, and so were you. And you were sure somewhere out in these lands, so was its High Lord. 

————

“Damn it Rhys! Let us go!” Cassian slammed his fists on the table, silver cutlery and porcelain plates rattling at the force. 

Rhys’s gaze was cold as he glared back at the General. “No,” was all he answered. 

Feyre fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her dinner now cold where her knife and fork set at her plate minutes ago when tension began to brew. She knew there would be another fight tonight – neither Cassian or Azriel had taken the order to begin training the new recruits at the House of Wind well. It reminded them too much of Y/N, and they had spent five months furious with both her and Rhys for placing them on court arrest, stopping them from scouting Prythian to find you.

“Feyre, please,” Cassian begged, his brow clenched in anguish. 

She swallowed, her heart pulling at his pain. “You know we can't Cass, Rhys gave her his word.” The black ink-like marking on her forearm itched at the mention, the symbol of a cross inside a triangle – a treasure and its whereabouts locked in secret. The mark had appeared the same moment Rhys had promised to not trail your location, an identical mark etched to his forearm too.

As part of that promise, the High Lord and Lady had ordered Cassian and Azriel against anything they could do to find you – there was to be no tracking your scent, no using intel from other courts, and no leaving the Night Court to investigate.

Cassian roared in frustration, throwing his head in his hands, gripping at the roots of his hair. “We only want to know she’s safe. If you care for us at all–"

“Enough Cassian!” Rhys bellowed, night filling every void of the room. Everyone froze. 

Rhys pinched his nose, the clouds of his magic lower to a thick fog that covered the floor. “You do not question our care for anyone in this family.”

Azriel spoke then, stiff and stoic from his seat. “It is worth the breach of the bargain you made. We will burden the consequence.”

“It’s not just for the consequence, Azriel,” Feyre answered, meeting the Shadowsinger’s hardened stare. “This was Y/N’s choice. How do you think she will feel knowing we have breached her trust again?”

“I will deal with that after I know she is safe.”

Rhys ran a hand over his face before rubbing at his temples. “As I have said countless times, you will not be granted permission to track her.” Rhys’s power tightened then, yanking on a leash he had kept around the General and Shadowsinger’s necks for months.

“How can you do this to us?” Azriel seethed, knuckles white from where the gripped the table. 

“I don't know Azriel. Perhaps the same way I kept Y/N grounded when you ordered her unfit to kill Alvar.”

Azriel stood then, his seat thrown back. “How dare you,” he spat, shadows racing towards the High Lord.

Rhys stood too, night magic clashing with shadows, a fight for dominance. “Calm yourself,” Rhys growled, staring the Shadowsinger down.

Mor sighed, swirling the wine in her glass from where she sat, fingers strumming the table impatiently. “Can we not go a single dinner without it turning to a fight?” she said flatly, before drawing a long sip.

Azriel’s teeth drew back to a snarl as he whipped his head to her. “Since when did you become so heartless?”

Mor stood, levelling her brown eyes at the Shadowsinger. “Don’t be a fool, I care for Y/N just as much as you. But I trust in my High Lord and Lady to dow that is right. When was the last time you exercised that same loyalty you swore to this court?” Mor paused before speaking again. “You’ve become undone, the both of you. And you will unravel this family if you continue down this path.” 

Feyre threw Mor a grateful look.

Shadows continued to bulk at Azriel’s frame. “She is our love, Mor. Are we not worthy of her whereabouts?”

“No,” Mor said, her voice flat and cold. “You are not. That is your consequence for holding her too tight.”

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his eyes widening as he recoiled ever so slightly. Cassian could not raise his head from where it still hung in his hands, but for a moment he stopped breathing.

Mor softened then, seeing how deep her words had cut. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still stern. “But it’s true. And I’m tired of having our family torn apart because of a decision that was her right to make. We have to rebuild what is here, what we have left. Otherwise our family will be ruined, and with it our court.”

Cassian took deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold the anguished cry that begged to be released. He had endured months of restlessness heartbreak, and there was no sign of it easing. It was torture.

Azriel looked back at his brother, knowing that pain, feeling it writhe within himself. Wordlessly, he walked to Cassian, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder and winnowing them from the room.

————

It was early one morning after you had set off from your uncle’s cabin, days worth of resources and tools hung from the back of your horse.

The horse was noble, a once well-kept steed that had been abandoned since the war. He had found you in a field, bucking and neighing as you approached. But with a gentle hand to his nose and some soothing commands, he had yielded, reminded of his connection to fae. 

Every great steed deserved a name, and it found you instantly – Podie. It was Nyx’s way of saying “pony”, his chubby finger pointed at the array of horses in the stables when you had taken him with your family, the lot of you chuckling at his adorable attempt. Your heart ached as you thought of the child, of how much he must have grown since you had left the Night Court. So you named your horse in his honour, and relished the comfort it was to feel feel that little bit closer to him.

Finbark had waved you off as the sun was rising, and it was only a few hours later when had you entered the trail you had become so familiar with, headed for the next town on your map. The quiet was tranquil in Spring Court, but in that moment even the birds stopped singing, and an eerie sensation swept you over you, the hairs on your neck standing. Podie’s nostrils flared as harsh breaths blew from his snout, his ears twitching nervously.

Something, or someone, was watching you.

You immediately dismounted, not wanting to zap or upset Podie as began power tickling at your skin. 

“Who’s there?” you spoke, your heart fastening at the rustle from behind the trees. 

For a moment, you thought they had found you, and your heart thundered as you prepared to confront Cassian and Azriel. Would they try to apologise again? Were they here to convince you to return to the Night Court? Perhaps they would go as far to drag you back, kicking and screaming?

Bile rose in your throat as you searched for the peaks of wings or siphons glowing amongst the greenery that rustled. Instead, antlers poked through before revealing narrowed green eyes. Heavy paws padded against the ground as a half-elk, half-lion emerged, prowling towards you.

You startled, fumbling back a few steps, too shocked to find your words. The beast approach, sniffing as sentient eyes scanned you with a knowing look. And as you stared back, you realised quickly who the creature before you was.

Before you could demand it, Tamlin morphed to his fae form, blond hair cropped to his strong shoulders, sharp green eyes fixed on you as he stared you down with a tight jaw. 

There was no question of his beauty – Tamlin was incredibly handsome, even with his face fixed with such a stern and threatening stare. He was not cloaked in green as Feyre had often described him, instead he wore brown working pants and a black shirt that were rolled at the sleeves revealing strong, veiny forearms. He was dressed no better than the working class of his court.

“High Lord,” you greeted as you bowed your head, lowering slightly at one knee. This was his court at the end of the day, no matter what he had done to ruin it. 

He watched you intently, unspeaking and his face softened ever so slightly, his jaw unclenching only a little. 

“Can I help you with something?”

“I’ve come to meet the Night Court emissary who has been assisting in the refuge of my land.” His voice was deep, commanding even after everything he had lost.

“I assure you, I am no longer affiliated with the Night Court. There is no treason to be found here.”

“I know.” He said with a straight face. “I’ve been tracking your work for months.”

You gulped at that. You had hoped to blend in, an anonymous helper with no past and no future.

“Did you think you could enter my court unnoticed?” he questioned, and sharp brown quirking. 

You found your eyes narrowing. “From what I was told, your borders had fallen, and your lands used as a place for sanction after the war. I did not think announcing my arrival was necessary, and you were certainly in no position to refuse my aid.”

Tamlin was unmoved at your tone. Instead he ran that pointed green stare down your body and back up again, flicking them to Podie who stood to the side, grazing on some grass, before settling them back on you. “Why?” he asked. 

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to aid my court?”

“I care to help those in need.”

“There are plenty across Prythian in need.” Tamlin was scowling now.

There was a beat of silence between you, only the sound of the heavy breaths that left Podie’s nostrils to fill it. 

“What did they do to you?” Tamlin asked. There was no softness in his question.

Now it was your turn to scowl. “I sought your court, High Lord, because I have an uncle who resides by the lake in the south. I knew there was work to be done here, and I had a home at his cabin.”

If your answer satiated Tamlin, he did not let it show, his green eyes continuing to pierce through you. It was a conscious effort not to let your power overcome you in the grasp of his stare. 

“Come to my Manor.”

You choked. “Pardon me?”

The High Lord shuffled then, his first natural movement, and you could have sworn a slight blush tinged his cheeks. “My apologies, I’ve spent so much time in my beast form, it’s easy to forget my manners. Please, join me for a meal at my Manor. It’s the least I can do, to thank you for your contributions.”

Your stare on Tamlin harshened. “I did not do it for you.”

Tamlin merely shrugged. “I’m aware. Regardless, I am grateful.”

You had only heard of Tamlin’s Manor through Feyre’s stories, how he had warded the home, trapping her within, hurting her with that uncontrollable rage of his. You had little interest in seeing the place where this occured, a small tether of loyalty to Feyre ignited at the thought.

You may as well have said it out loud, as Tamlin tracked the movements in your eyes before bowing his head. 

“The choice is yours, of course.”

You swallowed, observing the male before you. A High Lord would never bow their head for such a thing. 

That smallest of behaviours begged so many questions. Was he sorry? Was he ashamed? Was it possible Tamlin had learnt from his mistakes, and had grown to be a better High Lord? 

He reminded you so much of the males you once loved – a good heart with mislead direction. If he had shed of his possessive and controlling nature – you craved to see it, you needed to know it possible, even if it was in someone else. 

So you realised there was a part of you that wanted to go to the Manor and join Tamlin for an evening, to answer that question alone. You could attend for one meal, just to plug the hole in your heart for a night.

“Alright. I’ll visit your manor,” you said impartially.

Tamlin nodded once. “Is there a time that suits you best?”

You looked back at Podie, waving an arm to the gear and resources strapped to his saddle. “I will spend three days in Rellford to assist with building a new market. With another afternoon of travel I can make it to your Manor in four days time.”

Talmlin nodded again, smiling softly now, the pull of his mouth catching your breath as his handsomeness was further revealed. “I look forward to it, Y/N L/N.” After a low bow, Tamlin was once again a beast, treading away and leaving you to continue your journey.  

————

You stood awkwardly at the door to the Tamlin’s Manor, your hand hung in the air, unable to make the first knock. 

The gate had willed itself open, and you were surprised to see the exterior well kept, almost immaculate. Rhys had described it differently from his last visit, ivy overgrown and no maids or servicemen to be seen. But a stable boy had helped you dismount on arrival, guiding Podie by his reins with a polite bow. 

You smoothed out the skirts of your dress, self conscious of the scent of the horse you undoubtedly carried. You wore a humble frock, feminine and loose, one that allowed for a few hours of riding. The countless bold and revealing gowns you had once loved were left behind at the Night Court, they had no place in the new life you were building. With a final shake of your head, you willed yourself to knock on the large arched doors. 

But before your fist made contact, the doors swung open, revealing a maid. 

“Hello,” she said sweetly.

“H-hi.”

“Come inside.”

And so you did, taking in the impressive home. Natural light poured in from all around, floor length windows cast open as sheers danced gently as the breeze passed through. Tasteful vases of Spring’s finest flowers decorated the space, with countless rooms joining the space and a grand staircase that led to reveal even more of the manor. 

The maid lead you to a sitting room, the space just as light an airy, with no door, just an open archway. This was not what you had imagined at all.

“The High Lord is expecting you, but he apologises as he has a meeting that has run over. He won't be too long, but would like to convey his apologies,” she said with pep. “You can wait here, M’Lady. Would you care for something to drink?”

You silently took a seat at the lounge she had waved at, looking behind at the floor to ceiling bookshelves that aligned the room. It was a tasteful room, and you thought you could spend all day he curled up with a good book. 

“No, no thank you,” you eventually said, slow to respond in your awe of the house. 

With a bouncy courtesy, the maid left you to be. 

Standing immediately, you moved to inspect the books, fingering their spines and muttering their titles aloud. 

“Flora and Fauna of the Spring Season. How to Care for Roses and Thorns Alike.”

Your ears pricked as two sets of footsteps making their way down the staircase, and deep voices spoke in discussion. 

“I would be grateful for the resources Tamlin. And it’s clear you are mending your court. I would be happy to align with you once again.” 

You knew that voice – Tarquin.

“I’m glad, and yes, we are making progress. Though it would be insincere of me to accept any credit. I thank the people of my court, and I have had aid from others too.”

The males passed the open archway to the reading room, Tarquin stopping in his tracks. 

“Y/N?”

You froze, book still in hand. “Greetings, Tarquin,” you said thickly, barely able to swallow. 

Tarquin cast his magnificent blue eyes to Tamlin for just a moment, and you were sure if you had blinked you would have missed it. You glanced at Tamlin too, who showed no sign of discomfort. 

Tarquin was quick to recover from his shock, making his way over to greet you, embracing you with open arms and a quick kiss to each of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry to have heard of your departure from the Nigh Court,” he said, blue eyes fixed on you with a warm, sorry smile. 

You smiled back softly, rubbing his arms where they held your shoulders. “That is kind, Tarquin. I am sorry too.” You fought the urge to embrace him again – it was so nice to see a friend. 

Tamlin waited by the archway, his hands behind his back as he watched your interaction with passive curiosity. 

“And how did you find yourself in Spring?” Tarquin asked. 

You shrugged. “I have an uncle here, and I wanted to work to help repair that lost in the war.”

Tarquin nodded. “Yes, Tamlin was telling that he was quite impressed with you. And I must say, it’s encouraging to see how much progress has been made.”

You flicked your eyes to Tamlin who remained unmoved. He had credited you to another High Lord? You blushed lightly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

“And what of Varian and Cresseida? Are they well?” you skilfully diverted the conversation.

Tarquin grinned. “Varian is well, and Cresseida is engaged.”

“Engaged!” you burst, a smile so wide on your face as you thought of her. She was always a romantic. 

“Yes, she’s quite excited, as is the rest of the family. You will keep your eye out for an invitation to the wedding, yes?”

You blushed again – you were unsure how the news would be received by the other High Lords of your leaving, it was nice to know you were still considered you a friend at Summer. “Of course, Tarquin. I would be honoured to celebrate with you all.”

Tarquin smiled at that, before turning back to Tamlin. “What a jewel you have here in your court Tamlin. You won't take her for granted I hope.” You could sense the warning laced in his tone. 

Tamlin lowered his eyes slightly, a small gesture, but in the language of High Lords it spoke volumes. Understanding, submission, guilt even. “I wouldn’t dare of it,” he spoke, hands still clasped behind his back.

Tarquin seemed reassured at that. “I must journey back. A delight to see you Y/N, do take care, and come visit whenever you find suitable.”

You agreed to that, watching Tarquin shake Tamlins hand before leaving the Manor. 

“I apologise for making you wait,” Tamlin said with a soft smile. He seemed stiff still, and you wondered if he nervous to host you.

You eyed the High Lord up and down. “Not at all. I’m just… a little surprised to have our meetings overlap.”

Tamlin nodded with understanding. “I have nothing to hide Y/N. It is a lesson I should have learned long ago.”

You nodded at that, looping your arm through Tamlin’s outstretched one as he lead you through to on a tour of the Manor. 

————

The meal with Tamlin was far more enjoyable that you had thought it would be, food and company alike. He did not lead you to a dining room, instead, a small table was set in the balcony overlooking the estate, the warm spring breeze gentle as the sun set over the groomed gardens, rows of trees and flowering bushes tinged with orange from the sunset.

The conversation was awkward at first, Tamlin was nervous, and it didn't help that you headed every comment with caution. But after a few sips of wine, and a few jokes exchanged, it seemed you and the High Lord had much in common. 

You felt yourself relaxing, joking and laughing with ease. It was nice to chat and enjoy the company of another, something you hadn’t done since Azriel killed Alvar. You hadn't realised that in throwing yourself in work, you had deprived yourself from any true fun. Perhaps Tamlin had seen that, perhaps that’s why he invited you here.

He hadn't asked or pried of your past, only talking of your work with immense gratitude. And when you told him of your childhood memories in his court, Tamlin beamed with pride, his face fixed with a smile and his posture a little more straight. That of course, lead to the conversation of Meryl. 

“And what of your sister?” Tamlin asked. “Where does she reside now?”

“Ah,” you said, before drawing a long sip of wine, taking a moment before you could will yourself to respond. “Unfortunately Meryl was murdered by one of Hybern’s own spies.”

Pain sliced across Tamlin’s face, his green eyes panicked before he bowed his head in shame. “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” Blond strands fell in front of his face, his strong hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

“Tamlin, it’s alright. It was many years ago, well before the war.” 

He looked at you then, his face softening. He knew what you were saying – it was before he allied himself with Hybern. He was not to blame.

“I was a fool to have ever opened my borders to him,” Tamlin said thickly, casting his eyes down. 

“I could not agree more,” you replied, before offering him a tight smile. You were certain he regretted many of his choices, but it was reassuring to hear.

“Was your sister’s death how you found yourself as a Night Court emissary?”

You nodded. “That’s right. I was motivated to protect others, and largely driven to avenge Meryl.” Speaking of your past after all that had happened, it seemed to foreign to you now. You no longer knew the girl you were when you had found a home in Velaris.

“It would seem that is still very true,” Tamlin complimented. 

“In some ways, yes,” you agreed, unsure if he caught the blush on your cheeks. “But also untrue in others.”

Tamlin waited patiently, but didn't push. The choice was yours to continue. 

So you told him of your time at the Night Court, of the decade you had spent training with Cassian and Azriel. You spoke of the extent of your training, and how after a few years friendship had turned to love, and the family had welcomed you with open arms. 

Dancing around the details of the Night Court, you were careful not to expose Velaris or other sensitive information – you were not here to damn the court, you were only telling your story.

And as you spoke, Tamlin listened intently without casting judgement, just patiently absorbing your story, nodding where he understood and asking questions where he didn’t. He never pried, nor did he ask for more detail of the Night Court, or of Feyre and Rhys. 

Finally, you explained what lead to you leaving your old life behind, how you were betrayed by your loves and wider family, and how your one true shot to avenge your sister was stolen from you.

As you finished, you drew a big breath, and an even bigger sip of wine. You slouched further into your seat, relaxing as you felt free from the weight of bottling your truth for so long.

Tamlin watched you for a moment, before drawing a long breath. “Would you like to know what I think?”

You raised your brows, toying with your glass of wine. “Do tell.”

“I feel you were treated with an utter lack of empathy, and it was cruel to not at least tell you of the mission. I’m sorry that you were hurt in such a way. They are fools to have mistreated you so greatly, and I know this because… not only am I fully capable of such behaviour, but it is so similar to how I had treated Feyre.”

Your eyes went wide at his confession, your brows clenching at the way it made your heart ache.

“I know what it is to love another so fiercely, you stop seeing them as someone, and start seeing them as something. It was a lesson I learned only when I lost everything – my love, my council, my entire damn court. I was vengeful, jealous, and I would have torn the world in half to claim what I thought belonged to me. But I had no one to blame but myself, and I’ve learnt nothing is mine to ever own or control, no matter how much that scares me. In all truths Y/N, I am sickened that so many were hurt and lost for me to learn that lesson, and I’m so sorry that you were hurt for Azriel and Cassian to learn theirs.”

You blinked at Tamlin, swallowing your shock. “That is… a very honest confession.”

Tamlin gave you a tight smile before shrugging. “Honesty is all I have.”

You returned his smile, extended a hand to rest on his forearm. “If you ask me, honesty and trust are the only true currency of this life.”

Tamlin raised his brows then, whether he was shocked by your words or by your touch you couldn't tell. His green eyes met yours, sincerity swarming as he held you in a soft gaze. “Fae like you have known that all along though. And it is males like me who hurt those infinitely wiser, like you.”

You chuckled then. “I’m not perfect Tamlin, far from it. I think all we can do is try to be better, and work to ensure we don't hurt those that we love through our imperfections.”

Tamlin’s eyes warmed. “I think you’re right,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

And maybe it was the wine, or the way your heart swelled at the honestly and sincerity of his confession, but all of the fibres of your being begged you to lean a little closer, to bask in his warmth and comfort, and even press your lips to his. 

With a flick of his eyes to your lips, you knew Tamlin felt the same draw to you. He placed a large hand over your own that rested on his forearm. “Y/N, you must know I didn't invite you here to… disrupt, or interfere with–"

“I know,” you interrupted him, smiling softly.

Tamlin paused, eyes darting between yours. “Your company has been a delightful surprise. But I would hate for you to regret–"

“My life in the Night Court is behind me Tamlin. I have built a life of my own, and this is the path I choose.”

Tamlin moved then, a large hand coming to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and he gave you a pained look, as if physically trying to restrain himself. “I don't mean to lecture the more wise,” he said softly. “But if you feel that I can change or grow or learn from my mistakes, don’t you believe Azriel and Cassian can too?”

Your eyes fluttered close, your brow pulling at the weight of his question. “I suppose.” 

“And if they have changed, or at least try to, do you think that you might want to forgive them?”

You opened your eyes, holding Tamlin’s gaze with a serious expression. “Forgiveness is one thing. But I will never return to the life I had with them Tamlin, not like that. Too much has happened.” 

“Hmm,” Tamlin hummed thoughtfully. He waited a moment, green eyes drinking in your face, scanning your features delicately as you blushed, closing your eyes again to bare the intensity.

When Tamlin spoke again, his tone was a lot more assured. “I can see you have are still in the thick of processing what has happened, Y/N. And for that reason alone, it would be improper to kiss you right now, despite how much I want to.”

You were frowning as you opened your eyes, finding a sorry smile planted on Tamlin’s face. 

“You’re a cruel High Lord,” you joked flatly, returning the pained smile and holding the hand he kept to your face. 

“I’ll work on that,” he chuckled, pulling both your hands in his before kissing them. 

“Come,” he said, standing from his chair and offering you his hand. “I’m yet to show you the gardens.”

————

“Coming!” Amrin barked at the third rapping on her door, the knocks growing more impatient. Slinking into a silver silk robe, she opened the door to reveal Cassian and Azriel, their cheeks more hollow and bags even darker than the last time she had seen them a few weeks ago. 

“Gods, you both look awful,” she said plainly before walking further into her apartment, not checking to see if they followed. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Azriel grumbled. 

“Working from home, if you will.”

“Why?” Cassian asked defensively. 

“You know the answer, brutes. All of that fighting and tension, it gives me a headache.”

Azriel scowled, crossing his arms across his chest, shadows stretching across Amren’s apartment with familiarity. 

“You’re sensitive at the best of times,” Cassian bit back.

“Why are you here?” Amren spoke plainly, sounding bored by their presence. 

Cassian approached Amren while Azriel lingered back. “Help us,” Cassian said. 

Amren scoffed. “You know I can’t, boy.”

Cassian’s brows clenched before he moved to his knees, squatting in front of Amren as she lounged in a chair. “Please, Amren, do you have anything? Information from an outside court, or a lead on her whereabouts?”

Amren levelled her silver eyes with his brown ones. “Why do you torture yourself with such questions? Y/N is quite capable of taking care of herself, you know.”

“C’mon Cass, let’s just go,” Azriel said tightly from behind. From the tension in the room, it was hard to remember they were serving the same throne.

“You want my advice? The both of you need to be patient. If it takes her an eternity to forgive you, then so be it. There is nothing you can do to force that.”

“We can't just switch it off Amren, it doesn't work like that.”

“The Illyrian possessiveness, or the hopelessly in love part?” Amren mocked. “Y/N is mending herself, and I applaud that. I suggest you take a page from her book and start to do the same.”

Azriel had already stalked for the door when Amren started to mock, but she called him a few paces shy. “Whatever you took, I suggest you leave it behind,” she said, her tone almost playful. 

Azriel froze, before letting go of a gold piece of card, the paper fluttering to the floor as he and Cassian stalked out, slamming the door behind them. 

“What was that?” Cassian asked with a whisper. 

Azriel hushed him, nodding as he walked forward, waiting until they had made it a few streets from Amren’s home. 

“A wedding invitation. For Creseida.”

Cassian’s eyes light up. “Do you think–?”

“Perhaps, but I don't think we’d be welcomed company if Y/N does attend. Rhys and Feyre will surely keep us here.”

“So we keep our walls up. We won’t disclose to know of the wedding, and that way the bargain will never be broken.”

Azriel nodded. “The only risk is Amren, should she mention that I saw the invitation.”

Cassian sighed, running his hand through his long hair. “I sure as hell hope she can keep her mouth shut.”

--------

Part 4>>>>

AN: Omgosh, you guys have been so so patient with this part, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I sincerely hope you liked it, it was so much fun to introduce Tamlin and explore the way he might be healing after the war. Not to mention writing a few wins for our reader?? She deserves it.

Also how the Inner Curcle is just falling to shit without her 💅🏼 I so look forward to exploring the TEA at this wedding.... I always want to know what you guys think, so feel free to drop a comment, and if you'd like to join my general tag list, or just for Our Girl, drop a comment too :) Thank you always for your support <3