#very pleasant shot no pain this time

[muckyschmuck]

ya dawg we got flow ya dawg no massive amount of blood ya dawg Also u can kinda see my bruise from last shot LMAO

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - DeAged

The Nasty Burger explosion took a lot from Danny.

Stopping Dan meant nothing when Danny lost everything. His friends, his parents, his sister, his teacher - all gone. Danny, desperate to not become Dan, fled. He would not let Vlad destroy the only thing he had left; himself. He didn't turn human again if he could avoid it. Let Danny Fenton die with his family.

He did what he could, trying to keep it all together. Avoid Vlad. Catch havoc-wreaking ghosts. Try to not have a panic attack every time he saw his reflection. FentonWorks became out-of-bounds. No one was sure how to turn off the portal or any of the house's defence mechanisms so it was taped up instead.

Danny kept the GIW away. They wanted his parents' research, even if they had to bend the law to get it. Danny would not let them have it. Never.

But the GIW was persistent and Danny weak from nearly two months of being Phantom and nothing else. He was so tired. Tired from grieving, from fighting, from wandering around, completely lost and alone.

The GIW got a lucky shot in. Danny went down. He woke up, still ghost, somewhere white. He'd trained himself not to have to turn back. He was grateful he did.

The GIW studied him. Danny did not have the energy to fight back. The will to survive. Curled up in his cell, bloody and becoming less human with every passing day, Clockwork finally intervened.

He could not let the future High King wither away into nothing.

With Nocturn's help, he whisked him away. His world was dying anyway. With no one to maintain the portal, it would soon overload and explode. The radiation would kill all life on Earth, leaving nothing behind, and taking with it the potential for new life. One world among infinite realities meant nothing. But Danny, as High King, is a singularity. A unique existence, only found in one reality. Clockwork, for the sake of everything that lives and dies, could not let Danny fade away.

Danny slept at the Far Frozen, dreaming of his family, his friends, and the stars he would one day rule over. He healed, wounds knitting together into scars and fractured core slowly, ever so slowly, repairing itself. A future Ancient, bound to protect all that is and will be, was bound to be very badly hurt from such a loss.

Clockwork only wished he could have done more, but to remove Danny too early would have spelt disaster worse than the deaths of billions. This boy would someday be someone he'd proudly call his grandson. Seeing that future alone was enough to make his own core ache for the young one.

The Infinite Realms wept for its child, still but a babe yet having suffered so much. It embraced its future King, blessing him with its loyalty and adoration. The ghosts of the realms, spread far and wide over distant realities, timelines and worlds, felt the loss too.

Danny healed, unaware of how loved and precious he was to so many - how far he was from alone. The dead's sudden quiet unsettled many. Enemies froze in the silent mourning, animosity forgotten. Raging wars came to abrupt ends. So many, unable to bear the ever-reaching, unidentifiable pain in the air killed themselves. Good, kind people cried alone.

Magic users, like Constantine and Zatanna, hid, waiting out the Infinite Realm's despair for its child. No one spoke of it, for fear of disrespecting the dimension between dimensions. But they hid, and they waited, and they couldn't help but worry for themselves and everything and everyone else.

Danny got a lot of visitors. Ancients, regular ghosts, crowded around his bed, gifting him blessings and support. Danny slept, he healed, and his world died, taking with it all he'd known. He wouldn't remember or know of any of this when he woke  - even the memories of his pleasant dreams will have left him. He'll awaken and think himself entirely alone.

But he'll know, someday.

Clockwork will make sure of it.

---

Danny doesn't know where he is or who he is.

He has a vague idea. His name. His life and his death. But so much is so distant, like impressions on sand, washed away by the ocean. He knows he should be bigger. He knows this isn't home. He knows there is no home anymore.

He knows there are people he misses, but he doesn't know who they are or where they've gone. He knows so little yet so much. White walls and orange hair, green (toxic, writhing green) and hazmat suits, white and black and orange and blue. Expensive, Packers-branded cologne, burning flesh, the scream of an alarm and laughter and fear and hope and love and pain and loss. Disjointed flashes, snippets of another life.

And this isn't familiar - this city and these people. These crowded, filthy streets aren't home, but there's no home anymore so of course they aren't. And maybe Danny should be afraid. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got here. There are people, so tall, walking around him not sparing him a glance. It's loud and smelly and so much to process all at once.

But Danny doesn't care because he's so tired, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. But he doesn't have a home, so obviously he doesn't have a bed either. He looks around for somewhere else to sleep, rubbing at his chest subconsciously as he does.

There, a building, on the other side of the road. The windows are tinted, but the doors open and Danny, through the crowds and passing traffic, catches a glimpse of what has to be a couch. Maybe the people that own the building will let him sleep on their couch for a little bit.

So he crosses the street, sticking close to the legs of some lady with skinny heels that go tap-tap-tap so the cars don't go because they can't see him. The lady turns to go a different way after but it's okay because Danny is in front of the building now.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. It's quieter inside, and warmer. Danny wasn't cold outside but in here there's a nice heat that makes him feel even sleepier. He looks around at the fancy chairs and potted plants and lights, and is happy to see there are couches. Long couches, with lots of pillows and space for him to spread out.

He walks up to the desk. He's too short to see over it, and it makes him kind of angry because he's sure he's supposed to be taller. But he figures maybe he remembers wrong because people don't just shrink. Except, he's a halfa so maybe ghosts do?

"Hello?"

There's a lady here too, behind the desk, but unlike the one he followed across the street she has short, curly hair. Danny wonders if she's wearing skinny heels too. Leaning his head back, he can see her look up, glance around, and then look back down.

Danny pouts. Did she not see him?

"Hello?"

He waves an arm this time, reaching as high as he can to catch her attention. She finally sees him, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry! Hello." She has a nice voice.

"Your voice is pretty."

She smiles, and Danny decides her smile is nice too. "Why thank you. You have a pretty voice too. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I please sleep on your couch? Just for a little bit."

"Of course you can. Would you like a blanket? I could fetch one for you from the staff room."

Danny shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Alright. But if you change your mind, do tell me."

"You're very nice."

"Thank you, but it's really no problem. Not much to do today anyway."

"You should sleep too then. Sleep is good."

She giggles. "That is a very good idea. I just might take your advice." Danny nods. He has lots of good ideas. "Okay. I'm gonna' go nap now. Bye-bye."

"Sleep well."

There are a few couches, and for a bit Danny's not sure which one to sleep on. He chooses the one with the most pillows. It's very comfy, and the pillows are nice too. He puts one under his head and hugs another, curling up around it. He falls asleep in seconds.

-

When a toddler with black and blue eyes asked to sleep on one of the couches on in the reception hall of Wayne enterprises, May had assumed he was one of Bruce's boys. He certainly fit the type Gotham's favourite playboy liked to adopt, and it wasn't unusual for his wards to show up out of the blue.

Once she found Tim Drake passed out on the floor under her desk. Apparently, he'd been hiding from Dick who was visiting from Blüdhaven and forgot to bring his coffee with him, consequently falling asleep while he waited for her to arrive so he could ask her to go pick some up for him. That had been an interesting Thursday morning. 

On another memorable occasion, Cass, Bruce's only official daughter, and her girlfriend Steph had shown up, said hi, went upstairs, then came back down after about an hour, giggling as they ran out with a wave goodbye. Not even ten minutes later, Bruce himself stumbled out of the elevator, absolutely covered in purple glitter. May remembers raising an eyebrow and asking if Bruce wanted her to have another suit brought in.

He'd ended up collapsing on one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, and said he'd have Alfred pick him up instead. He left a sparkly trail behind him when he walked, and the couch he sat on had to be replaced because, even after numerous cleaning attempts, no one could get the glitter out. He had glitter in his hair for months afterwards.

So, May hadn't bat an eye when the little boy came in. Well aware Bruce had several meetings scheduled that day, she sent him an email saying one of his kids was taking a nap in the reception hall and resolved to look out for the boy herself. Throughout the day, she made sure to check on him often, making sure no one picked him up ran (this was Gotham after all).

He slept soundly for most of her work day, barely shifting. She ended up putting a blanket on him herself during her lunch break and leaving him a water bottle and little snack for when he woke up. She also made sure security kept an eye on him whenever she left for whatever reason.

It was well into the afternoon when Bruce finally replied to her email and asked if his kid was still sleeping downstairs. She said yes, and not long after he arrived on the ground level. He walked up to her desk and asked if his kid had caused her any trouble. She smiled and assured him no.

Then Bruce asked where Tim was.

"Sorry? Tim isn't here today."

Bruce frowned, looking just as confused as she felt. "My apologies. You said one of my wards was asleep here. I assumed it was Tim."

"Oh! No, no, it's not Tim. Well, I don't actually know his name but the little guy has been here since this morning." She gestured to the toddler in question.

Bruce turned around, saw him, and frowned. "He's not one of mine."

"He's not?"

"No. Are you sure he's not an employee's child?" He kept his eyes on the boy, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, I am. Only three employees brought in their children today, and all of them are ten or above. He can't be older than five." She frowned now too, turning to her computer to double check. "I'll send out a company-wide email to be sure. I should have done this sooner. I'm sorry, I was just so sure he was under your care."

"It's alright, May. I'm not upset. I'm just worried about him. When about in the morning did he get here?"

She glanced up, but Bruce was still looking at the sleeping boy. "A little after nine."

"And he's been sleeping all that time?"

"Yes, as far as I'm aware."

"Alright. Thank you for looking after him. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. I'll reach out to you if anyone identifies him."

He nodded appreciatively and walked over to the boy. She watched, frustrated with herself. She's worked as one of Wayne Enterprise's receptionists for over four years. She should have known better than to just assume some random, black haired blue eyed child was Bruce's kid. She should have at least reached out to make sure that was the case.

She sighed as Bruce knelt down by the couch and gently shook the little boy awake, resting her head in the palm of her hand. This poor child. His poor parents. They must be worried sick.

She has to make this right.

---

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao

wc: 9k

warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333

You’d never been this restless before. 

Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way. 

No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through. 

He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would. 

He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.  

In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that. 

But you were not there. 

You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing. 

You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.

“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”

“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours. 

She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.” 

“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.

“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.” 

You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”

“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.” 

“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?” 

“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile. 

“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.” 

“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.” 

“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?” 

She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.” 

“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.” 

You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life. 

“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?” 

No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it. 

Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused. 

“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”

Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—” 

“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”

“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.” 

“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.” 

“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.” 

“Truly?” you asked softly. 

Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.” 

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly. 

“I love you too,” you whispered. 

-

“Are you alright, my lady?” 

Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile. 

“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.” 

Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.” 

“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.” 

Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?” 

You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew. 

You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you. 

Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official. 

It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…

Then, he would propose. 

You would accept. 

And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears. 

“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.” 

“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.” 

“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you. 

Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.” 

“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.” 

“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.” 

You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack. 

“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.” 

“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking. 

“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?” 

“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.” 

Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.

“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.” 

“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders. 

“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.” 

She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes. 

“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.” 

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes. 

“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.” 

She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.

“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.” 

“Has he?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.” 

You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with. 

Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal. 

 “I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.” 

“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.” 

“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.” 

There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him. 

Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?” 

“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.” 

-

You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still. 

Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least. 

It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up. 

Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles. 

Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.  

Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad. 

“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile. 

“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in. 

“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.” 

You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.” 

Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”

Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”

Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you. 

You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”

No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress. 

Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”

“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”

“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.” 

“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”

“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”

Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you. 

“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”

You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.” 

You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you. 

You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.

You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.” 

“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.” 

“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”

Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne. 

“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.” 

Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?” 

Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”

She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”  

“That is different,” you insisted. 

“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.” 

“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.” 

“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.” 

“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.” 

“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.” 

“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.” 

“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.” 

“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”

“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”

Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you. 

“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”

“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”

You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.

Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with. 

It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears. 

You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and  pressed your palms to your forehead. 

You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan. 

Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at. 

“Miss Worthing.”

The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery. 

“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said. 

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”

“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”

“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.” 

“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh. 

“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.” 

“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”

You turned away. “I can try.”

“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”

“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly. 

“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.” 

“And what makes you think that?”

“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.” 

“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.” 

Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.” 

“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out. 

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged. 

You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”

“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.

Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become. 

“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.” 

“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.” 

“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.” 

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing. 

“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head. 

“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.” 

You nodded, and he did as well. 

“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine. 

“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.” 

“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.” 

You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into. 

But he… he loved you. 

He loved you just as you loved him. 

“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.” 

All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions. 

“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.” 

“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?” 

“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.” 

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance. 

Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could. 

Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”

“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst. 

The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.” 

You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.” 

Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.

“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it. 

But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you. 

“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”

“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket. 

“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.

“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Just take it off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”

“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you. 

“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”

“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver. 

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access. 

The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire. 

You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way. 

You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord. 

“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.” 

You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.” 

You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you. 

“Anthony— oh!” 

The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied. 

You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh. 

“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin. 

“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.” 

“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?” 

“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.” 

“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.” 

You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?” 

“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.” 

“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?” 

“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.” 

“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.” 

Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.” 

“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”

Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.” 

“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”

“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly. 

You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.” 

“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.” 

“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.

“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.” 

“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.” 

Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”

“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head. 

Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne. 

“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”

“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?” 

“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.” 

Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual. 

“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”

“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”

“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded. 

“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”

“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.” 

“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.” 

Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words. 

“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.” 

You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion. 

“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.” 

Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth. 

“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.” 

A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears. 

“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”

“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.” 

“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”

Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you. 

You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.  

And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.

“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.” 

You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.” 

He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”

“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.” 

“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.” 

“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.” 

His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?” 

“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned. 

Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either. 

“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.” 

“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.” 

“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.” 

Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?” 

“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.” 

“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.” 

“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked. 

She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.” 

You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his. 

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.” 

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief. 

“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.” 

“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head. 

Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.” 

You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.” 

“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.” 

You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.” 

“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.” 

Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.

“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.” 

You hummed in agreement. “As do I.” 

You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him. 

Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged. 

Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured. 

“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?” 

“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…” 

“It is our secret.”

Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.” 

“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured. 

Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife. 

The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.

And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.” 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[thelittleliars]

Surprise

Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: fighting, being drunk, mention of homophobia, mention of deceased parents, angst with a happy end

Words: 3.5k

Summary: You wanted to surprise your girlfriend but instead you were the one that got surprised.

A/N: Here it is: the Angst with a happy ending one shot as the majority of you voted for! Btw I did not proof read it so be aware.

Flying wasn't your thing; sitting for hours in a thing that is high in the air with nothing to do but to sleep, eat, watch or read something. And airplane was a capsule of boredom to you, that was why you'd never fly unless you had to. Unfortunately you had to fly for your job since it required you to fly overseas from time to time. This time you had a 15 hour flight back home, itching to not only to see your girlfriend Natasha but also to surprise her, your supposed flight was scheduled for only three days later and when you were given the go to fly back earlier you took the chance and told her nothing about it. You hadn't seen her in weeks so you were extra excited to see her again.

The uber stopped in front of your apartment complex, as you got your things out of the trunk you thanked them for the pleasant ride and wished them a good day. You were quick to arrive at your door, the apartment was one on the top floors, before unlocking it with the your key. The smile on your face vanished when you saw Natasha standing there with three people you had never met before. Your mood became a little sour as you didn't like that your surprise didn't go as you had planned. "Who are you?" You asked confused as nobody including your girlfriend made a move to introduce each other.

They stared at you with critical eyes, sizing you up and down as if you were a criminal or some other threat. The younger woman with blonde hair spoke up first. "Her family." Your heart stilled for a second thinking of meeting her family like this wasn't great but you dismissed everything quickly because you remembered that her family was dead. "No, that can't be. Her family died when she was young." You looked confused at Nat, then back at those strangers again. When nobody responded you got a bit anxious, Natasha wouldn't have lied about that right?

The man spoke up next, bringing you out of your head of spiraling thoughts. "Who are you?" But before you could answer that question happily, the other woman gave her thoughts to the situation. "She's most likely the roommate Natasha always talked about." Roommate. You whirled your head towards your red headed lover, looking baffled at her already guilty expression, pain appeared in your heart and you swore that nothing cut you as deep as the statement along with her silence and facial expression. You pursed your lips to hide how much she hurt you, it would be too embarrassing to throw a fit in front of her family. Natasha opened her mouth but before she got to speak you jumped in. "I just had a 15 hour flight and all I wanna do is take a shower and maybe a nap afterwards. I guess I see y'all later." You said to all of them before you fetched your suitcase and disappeared into the actual guest room that the two of you had for emergencies.

In the shower you sat down and let the water fall onto you. You overthought everything you thought you knew. It was obvious that it was her family, she lied about her parent dying. Why would she do that? And if she lied about that what else did she lie about? Evidently about your relationship. The roommate Natasha constantly talked about.. That statement hurt immensely. You couldn't understand why were a roommate, not even a very good friend no, just a fucking roommate. It made you angry, especially because you loved that woman deeply and it made you wonder if she actually loved you. You also deliberate about if you could ever forgive her about this betrayal.

After the long shower, your phone started ringing the second your t-shirt hit you body. It was strange for someone to call you at this hour but when you saw it was your friend Wanda you answered without a question. You couldn't get a hello out because she was talking fast. "Open your door, there's a surprise for you!" The excitement in her voice was refreshing after all the work talk you had done overseas for days. "Wands, I don't like surprises."

"I know and I'm sorry to do this to you but this one's really worth it. Please believe me and don't hang up!" You tried to put all the faith you had left in her and walked out of the guest room as held your phone against your ear. "I won't hang up don't worry." While you passed by the open kitchen-living room to get to the door, you felt the red head's and her family's intense eyes on you. You ignore them as you opened the door and there she stood, the great Wanda Maximoff with some tickets in her hands. She practically shoved them into your hands. Only then did you hang up the phone and looked at what the tickets were. Your eyes widen in shock before you threw yourself at Wanda, hugging her happily. Natasha jealously was seething so she decided to speak. "What is your ex doing here?"

You turned around smiling at her but not as bright as you had been a second before, you still waved the tickets with joy telling her what the tickets were for. "She got me tickets for a sold out Hayley Kiyoko show!!" Natasha knew how much that meant for you since you had never seen her live even though you had tickets for three concerts at one point. You hated it so much that your job always came in between the dates, making you sell your concert tickets of the singer that was your first crush and gay awakening. This whole situation gave Natasha another pang of jealousy, she should have been the one giving you the tickets, not your damn ex.

"The lesbian Jesus?" The blonde woman whose name you still don't know asked. You nodded and saw her face breaking into a proud expression. "Since when do you know that?" Natasha asked her sister in almost an insulting tone. "Kate Bishop, where else?" After Nat narrowed her eyes the blonde explained further with a shrug. "She told me that I need to widen my horizon in pop culture." At that you turned your attention back to Wanda, minding your own business while picking up your conversation again. "I- I'm.. thank you for the tickets Wands. I truly don't know how to thank you." She smiled at your overwhelmed but giddy state. "You could take me with you?" She joked as she also pointed to the tickets. You agreed to her idea incredibly fast, maybe a bit too fast considering that you had a girlfriend you usually asked and took with you to concerts. But in that split of a moment you didn't give a shit about asking her to go with you, going with your ex sounded way better. "It - it's tomorrow already. Wait, hold on. How'd you even know that I'd be back by then?"

"Oh yeah about that.. I might have talked with Josh." She smiled sheepishly. Josh was a mutual friend but also your co-worker. But you'd never have thought that Josh would talk about your (early) return. Especially since you told him you wanted to surprise everyone. "Are you lovebirds actually coming in or stay in the doorway all night?" Alexei teased you both, you didn't how how to feel about that. You were still together with his daughter and him teasing or shipping you with your ex was beyond something you thought you'd experience. The frown on Natasha face was something you didn't miss and you actually had to bite your tongue before saying something you'd regret. To your luck, because you knew biting your tongue wouldn't help for long, your lover pipped in. "They are ex-girlfriends and not lovebirds." She stated hard. Her father continued to reason with his daughter. "Doesn't have to mean anything Tasha bear. How often did your mother and I break up and got back together hmm?"

You ignored their conversation once again, turning to the red head that stood still in the doorway you told her to wait for you. "Let me switch pants and then we go get a drink somewhere yeah? That way we can catch up and they can continue having family time uninterrupted." Natasha wanted to interject, deny you going out with Wanda when she desperately wanted to explain herself but she feared that stopping you would dig her grave with you only deeper so she let you go. When you were about to leave, Yelena and Alexei teased you both a last time. You felt a bit bad for Natasha but it all were also a part of consequences of her actions. "Don't come home too late." Was the only thing she told you. You still heard Yelena's such a mom and Alexei's don't be a cockblocker Natasha through the door.

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

You were passed out in Wanda's arms as she carried you bridal style towards your apartment. It wasn't planned that you drank this much alcohol, but once you got a taste of it you just couldn't stop, it numbed your feelings and problems that you badly wanted to forget. Natasha was at the door quick, relieved when she saw you in Wanda's arms, she lead you both towards your bedroom watching how your ex put you on the bed gently.

"Thank you for bringing her home." She commented. The other woman only nodded before leaving fairly quickly, not wanting to be there in case you woke up which she knew was unlikely but didn't want it risk it anyways. Hungover you was something she did not want to witness ever again.

The next morning was rather midday by the time you woke up. You walked into the bathroom first, quickly peeing and splashing some water on your face before wandering to the kitchen, there you saw Natasha sitting at her kitchen counter with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other hand. "Morning." You hummed grumpily, acknowledging her without actually talking to her. She huffed before she tried to talk to you again. "Y/N I-" Natasha started but you cut her off immediately. "I don't wanna talk."

"But I really-" Her next attempt to talk got quickly cut off by you again. "I SAID I DONT WANT TO TALK NATASHA!" You didn't yell, you simply rose your voice a bit to get your point across. She shut up afterwards. "Gosh just give me space before you ruin my day. I still have a concert to attend to." Your words and the situation cut her deep, it hurt to know this side of you - that she was the reason for bringing this out of you and inflicting (you) pain. She never wanted any of this.

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

After the incredible amazing concert you dragged Wanda into a bar to get some well deserved fries and drinks. It didn't last long until you spilled your relationship problems and some evil thoughts you had in your head. The cruelest one was to text Nat asking her if she'd give you permission to kiss another girl during Hayley's performance of Girls Like Girls. You'd never cheat but the itch to get back at her in some way for betraying you was big.

"I know you want to hurt Natasha back a bit because of what she did but is it really worth it? Wouldn't that just truly ruin your relationship?" Wanda was concerned about your state of mind and what you might would do. She knew how rash you were in doing something when you got hurt by someone close to you. "It's hardly a relationship if it's build on lies." You stated without any emotion in your voice and expression. This only showed her that her worries were valid. "Maybe she had a good reason for it." The red head tried so hard to see the positive but of course with your mood, nothing was getting to you.

"I can't think of a single good reason of why she'd lie about her parents passing. I also came up short when I thought of a reason of her hiding our relationship. Like I'd have understood if it were the same situation as it was in our relationship, when you were a baby gay with parents who oftentimes said homophobic remarks and you being afraid to come out. But her father and sister teased us lovebirds and it seemed very genuine, they weren't homophobic." At the mention of Wanda's past, she felt the need to voice her thoughts. "I still feel like they stopped with the remarks after catching Pietro watching gay porn." You gave her a tiny sad smile. "Well either way, at least you had the decency to tell your family that we were not only very good but also very close friends. I'm just a roommate to them."

"I'm sorry." She said it genuine, without any pity or whatsoever. You nodded but also sighed at her apology. "Not your fault Wanda. Don't apologize for something that's out of reach." It was quiet between the two of you for a long moment, eating and drinking to make it less awkward before you asked her if you could crash at her place. "Of course, you're always welcome." Later, right before you went to sleep, you texted your girlfriend that you'd stay at Wanda's for the night.

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

When you got home the next day, Natasha was nowhere to be found, it gave you enough time to ponder if you should simply break up with her and get all your things with you, it would have been a coward move on your part and you were already cowardly enough by staging away from her the night before. You quickly changed into a new set of clothes the grabbing your headphones and went into the kitchen, getting out ingredients from the cabinets to bake something, you still needed to distract yourself before facing Natasha.

The second she entered the apartment and heard movements she knew were only yours, she stopped dead in her tracks as she wasn't expecting you to the apartment yet. She thought that you were staying at Wanda's for a while longer but since you weren't she took the chance to finally talk to you and explain herself. You were startled by the tap on your shoulder, you hadn't heard her come back with the headphones on yours ears blasting angry rock-metal music. Pausing the music and taking the headphones from your ears, you turned around to face Natasha, she had messy hair with dark circles and bags underneath her eyes. It told you that she had a sleepless night.

"I don't want to talk." You told her simply because it irritated you that she disrupted your baking time. She groaned in frustration. "But I need to talk. Y/N I want to fix my mistakes, I want to fix us." She was desperate, you heard it in her voice, but that still didn't change your mind. "Maybe the magnitude of your mistakes are too big to fix." The words you said left her stunned. With the little courage she had left she asked you the important question. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet." It came out weak, nearly matching the weak tone of the question Natasha asked second before. A bit of relieve flooded her system but she was still tense m, fearing your answer to her next question. "What's holding you back?" You weren't sure if you wanted to let her know your reasons but you ended up opening anyways. "My gut and my trust in you."

The silence that followed was nearly deafening, the redheaded woman simply was at loss of words because it felt wrong for you to still have trust in her. "I haven't shattered your trust yet?"

"Hard to believe right? Despite all your lies I still trust you.. even if it's on a thin thread." There was another couple of minutes of silence before she finally could apologize without you cutting her off. "Then let me apologize because I really have to apologize for how the other day went down. I'm sorry for lying about my parents and that I lied to them about our relationship. I didn't mean to hurt you but I did and now I have to own it up." She started before moving to sit down on a chair. "It's true that my parents died at a young age. Who you saw was my foster family, we didn't always get along which resulted in me distancing myself from them for a decade. It wasn't until we were a year deep into a relationship that we started to have contact again."

"But why lie to them about us? Your father and sister seemed pretty open about homosexuals." You asked, still confused about certain things that needed to be cleared up.

"My plan was to ease them in telling how I'm not only queer but more so a lesbian. Last time I really knew them they were homophobic so I was surprised by their remarks. I hadn't met them in person for so long, I guess they changed a lot during that time." You took your hands in hers. It was a small gesture of you supporting her in quietness. "I'm sorry detka. I should have told you a long time ago about my foster family. And also that I told them you were my roommate."

"I just don't get it. Why tell them we're roommates and not friends?" It was the question that plagued your mind. She bit her lips then shaking her head and looking everywhere but at you. "It wouldn't have been believable. I always ruined all my friendships." You squeezed her hands in hope she'd look at you again and she did even if it was only for a few seconds. "Is there anything else you lied about?"

Her eyes rose to yours, this time you could see her bare soul laying out for you. She removed her hands from yours before answered honest. "Uhh.. my job?" It was barely a second that passed by before you shrieked out her full name. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova!" She squeezed her eyes shut as her name fell from your lips like you called her satan, then she fumbled with her hands until they found yours again. With an honest look in her eyes she apologizes again. "Y/N I'm really sorry okay."

"Sorry doesn't make it better! Natasha you do realize how fucked up this is right? Especially because we talk about work at dinner every other day. Gosh." You felt sick to your stomach when you thought back at the countless of conversations you had. "If-if you're not a secretary then what exactly do you do?"

"I'm actually a SHIELD agent." She leaned closer to you when she noticed your lack of response. When you did reply it made Natasha even more nervous, anxious even, she feared that you decide to break up with her right then and there. "A SHIELD agent?" You repeated calmly, a bit too calm for your girlfriend's liking, a calm person is always one to fear during a fight, they most likely are already done with everything. "A SHIELD agent." Natasha confirmed.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"At some point." You nodded then removed your hands from hers all while you were telling her you needed to go back to baking, you turned around finished your cupcakes. Natasha stood there awkwardly, not knowing what else to tell you or where to go. When the first batch of cupcakes were done you held one in between your fingers, you walked straight up to the redhead with no expression on your face, her heart pounded so wildly that it felt like she was going to die. "As much as I hate you right now, I'm still completely and utterly in love with you." You offered her the cupcake that she gladly accepted with a small smile. "I might be an idiot for even attempting to forgive you but I can honestly see us having a great and long future together."

"I want that. The long and great future with you, I mean." She looked down and smiled shyly

"Good. But it can only happen if you won't lie to me anymore Nat. I'd rather be hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie."

"Okay."

"Okay?" She nodded. "Good. Now come here and give me a kiss."

"Can I eat my cupcake first?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes. You shook your heard, told her 'no' before you grabbed her head and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Can you do Tanjiro x fem!reader where he accidentally hurts her? Like, he’s asleep and having a nightmare and reader is trying to wake him up and when he wakes up he punches her cause it was a nightmare about demons.

I hope this makes sense😭

Ommmmggg. Tanjiro will be so upset about that! I’m totally doing this, loves! Thank you!

Kamado Tanjiro- Truly Accidental

No… no… no. It was a accident. Tanjiro swears it! He wasn’t trying to put his hands on you! He was just having a truly vivid dream and he felt his body acting on it’s own. It made him swing at literally nothing, despite the fact his visions were merely fantasy

He truly woke up a familiar pained gasp and loud thud. His plum reds widened in shock and horror at the image before him, it tore his heart out and stomped all over it ten times fold. You, on your flat back and holding your cheek

No. He didn’t punch you, did he? Tanjiro is so panicked and concerned, his head screaming at him with such hateful comments, as he tries his best to crawl over to you to try fix the situation, his heart shattering at the way you flinch

He didn’t mean it… he was so sorry

“D-Dokusha… I’m so sorry… I-I… I didn’t mean to do that, I just—” Tanjiro whispered out in a plunge of disbelief and terror at his own subconscious actions. He woke up from such a horrific, hyperrealistic nightmare consisting of him throwing it down with a wave of rabid demons bare-fisted. He couldn’t believe he could take those monsters down without his katana but his fighting spirit and survival instincts kicked in to try defend himself

You, on the other hand, was sleeping peacefully and cuddled up to your lovely fiancé, Tanjiro when you felt his calloused hands grip your kimono a bit tighter, unintentionally stirring you awake as you scanned over his frowning expression and tighter clamped-shut eyes. He was asleep but imagining a not-so-pleasant situation in his unconscious headspace

In intense worry for your fiancé’s health, you begun to shake Tanjiro’s still frame with no response from him for almost a whole minute after whispering out his name repetitively and repetitive requests for him to wake himself up for far too long for your anxiety to handle. You needed to wake him up and comfort him over that obvious nightmare he was experiencing when the second his eyes shot open, his mighty fist swung at your face and flung you over the futon to the nearby wooden-pane floor. Both of you were really fear-struck and shocked at his actions

“Wait. Please, I-I swear I would never hurt you… I-I’m sorry, I love you. Come back…” Tanjiro whispers weakly at your horrified eyes glaring at him, tears welling up in his own glassy eyes as his brain tried its best to process exactly what happened. He couldn’t believe a single ounce of this situation and the fact it actually happened by his own fist. Why did he punch you when you weren’t a demon? How was that dream so realistic that it made him lash out at his beautiful spouse!

You sniffed softly at him, slowly raising up to sit and maintaining eye contact. Tanjiro was using everything he had to keep himself from crying as his guilt and shame piled up to an uncontrollable rate. How could he make it up to you when he was the one who caused you fear and pain? He would never forgive himself for this incident and he was very tempted to sleep in the kitchen or slice his own fingernails as punishment

He should be able to control himself. Hurting somebody important to him like Nezuko or Giyuu is a awful one thing, but hurting the one person he has developed such a powerful romantic love for such as you, it makes him feel like a worthless pile of shit. Rather it was a accident or not, he was ready to take the blame and accept you yelling at him… but you never did

You gently stroked his face to try comfort him, tears rolling over the soft skin of your hand as he went to protest at your kindness. He doesn’t deserve empathy after hurting you, you’re the victim. Why are you acting like he deserves forgiveness? You keep up a soft smile, further highlighting that nasty reddish mark on your cheek where his full-power fist landed and the mark he made caused his heart to stop beating for a second or two. Tanjiro kept his gaze on you, trying to process everything all at once even though, he just couldn’t keep himself composed anymore

“Dokusha… I don’t get it… I-I hurt you… I just punched you when you tried to wake me up… w-why are you—”

“Because I love you too, Kamado Tanjiro”

[i-thirsty-boi]

Platonic Yandere-ish Ronal/Tonowari/Tsireya/Aonung X Human Child Reader

~A/N: I started writing this right after I posted my first avatar work. Reader is pretty gender neutral in this, but it IS implied that they are female. Your only real descriptors are you being tiny and having long hair.

~Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

CW: yandere behavior (platonic), possesive behavior, obsessive behavior, near death experience, the human scientists are assholes

~

-You came to Pandora with your Aunt when you were five. (Same as the other Platonic Yandere Avatar thing I did) You lived on the lab base with her and some other scientists that barely tolerated you.

-You were constantly bored out of your mind because you were locked out of the lab every day, where every other sentient being was. So, when there was a meal break you asked your Aunt if you could explore during the day. She said yes, but you had to wear an oxygen mask because the air here could hurt you otherwise.

-You weren’t happy about the mask and asked her if there was any way around wearing it. She told you there was but it was painful. Which, rightfully, made you scared but you said you’d do it anyway. So, your first interaction with all of the scientists wasn’t very pleasant, but it let you go outside!

-You fell in love with the planet during your trips outside the lab facility. But, you would have to move to a new one soon since they wanted to study the stuff on a different part of the planet. So, you packed your stuff in a watertight bag and went in the helicopter with, surprisingly, not your Aunt.

-During the trip over, you were constantly looking out the side of the helicopter to look at what you were passing, even if it was mostly ocean.

You were in awe at how beautiful Pandora was all over. As you were looking out the windows, you missed what was happening around you. The rest of the scientists did not like you or your presence in the labs. They knew your Aunt got annoyed with you too. So, they came up with a plan to get rid of you, but not necessarily kill you. They knew it was time when they saw the reefs approaching.

While you were looking out the window you noticed that one of the scientists was moving towards where you were. They grabbed your duffle bag before opening the door of the helicopter. You were panicking, not knowing what was going on. They then grabbed you, handed you your bag, and threw you out of the helicopter.

You gripped your bag as hard as you could while screaming on the way down. You passed out as soon as you hit the water.

-Tsireya had been watching the sky people contraption as soon as she noticed it in the sky. She was confused when the side of it opened up, but then saw a tiny human with a big bag get thrown out of it. She rushed over to where you would land, while listening to your screams as you fell.

-She immediately dove to get you when you hit the surface of the water. You had lost consciousness under the surface, so she dragged you to the surface, with your bag, and began swimming back to shore with you in tow.

-Once she made it to the shore, she carried you to where her mother was, in the healer’s tent. You were such a tiny thing, and she was so worried for you. 

-She got her mother’s attention as soon as she entered the tent. Ronal was floored that her daughter had a human with her, but focused on your physical state right after.

Tsireya explained to her mother all she knew as she laid you down on a mat, then set your bag next to you. Ronal was shocked at the story. She knew humans were cruel, but this was a new low to her. Throwing out a child. She immediately got to work on waking you up, doing some chants. (A/N: Basing this off the scene when Kiri had a seizure)

After she was done, your eyes immediately shot open and you bolted upright. You then promptly leaned to the side and coughed up some water. As soon as you were done with your coughing fit, you looked over to the two navi women looking at you intently. You gave them a strained smile and a wave before laying back down. 

They went right to either side of your head and began talking to you. They asked you what your name was, how old you were, and what happened. You introduced yourself then told them the full story of how you ended up in the water. Needless to say they were both furious about it. What kind of monsters would endanger a child like this?!

You then asked who they were, quite politely too. Ronal took the initiative to talk, saying, “My name is Ronal, and this is my daughter Tsireya.” You just smiled and told them they had pretty names. This made them both chuckle and thank you for your sweet words. They asked if you felt alright enough to move, and you said yes. 

-They then both got up and waited for you to do the same. They both smiled at how tiny you were compared to them, you only came up to the middle of Tsireya’s thigh and the bottom of Ronal’s. Tsireya picked up your bag and motioned you to follow them. 

-You tried to keep up with their slow and small steps, but weren’t really able to. So, Ronal asked if she could carry you. You smiled and reached up to her. She leant down and picked you up, tiny enough to be cradled to her chest like a baby. 

-You were having the time of your life being carried so high up. You took in your surroundings with a big smile as they walked through their tribe to their home. Once they got there, Tsireya set down your bag, and Ronal set you on the ground. To which you immediately went around looking at everything that you could see. 

-It wasn’t very long before Tonowari and Aonung each heard the whispers of a tiny human with Ronal and Tsireya. So, they both hurried back to their home to get to the bottom of it. 

-Sure enough, there was a tiny human in their home, looking around at everything with a smile. The two women noticed them immediately and motioned them closer. 

Tsireya got your attention by saying, “Hey Y/N, can you come over here and meet some more people?” You looked over as soon as you heard her, then nodded before running over to her. Which was more of a fast waddle to them. 

Once you were in front of her she asked you to introduce yourself to the two men. So, you said, “Hello! My name’s Y/N and I’m five!” You held up five fingers while saying it quite loudly. This made the bigger man chuckle and the smaller one just smiled at you. 

Then the bigger man said, “My name is Tonowari, and this one is my son Aonung. Ronal is my mate and Tsireya is my daughter.” You told him name was cool. He chuckled again before asking how you got here. So, you went over the whole story again. Which made him angry at the humans and reignited the flames of anger in the two women. 

“Well, that’s too bad for them. Would you like to stay with us since you’re here now?” Tonowari asked you in a very kind tone. You nodded very animatedly, excited to stay with the first nice people you met on that planet. 

-And right after that sweet moment, your stomach rumbled very loudly. Everyone in that room heard it. Which made you look down and blush, but all the navi laugh. 

-They went to start making lunch for you. Ronal had decided to make a meal for all of them since it was close enough to lunchtime for it. She just didn’t want to make you stay hungry until dinner. 

-While she started making the food, Tonowari had picked you up. You gripped him while seeing the place from a new angle. It amazed you again, how pretty everything was. Plus, Tonowari was very tall!

-You giggled as he walked around their home with you by his shoulder. He pointed things out to you as he went along, and you listened intently. Right as he was done showing you around, Ronal finished with the food. 

-She called everyone over to eat. They all sat around where she set the food, with you in Tonowari’s lap. She made plates for her whole family before having you make a plate for yourself, as she didn’t know how much to give you. You were a tiny human, but the amount of food you took didn’t seem like enough to her, and as she looked at her family they seemed to agree. They decided to leave it be for now. 

-Everyone started eating after you were done making your plate. You finished your food before everyone else and set down your plate in front of you. Tonowari asked you if you wanted anymore as you started leaning back against him. You just shook your head before yawning. 

-Everyone’s heart just melted looking at you falling asleep on Tonowari. Tonowari himself felt happy that you felt safe enough with them to fall asleep on him, and the others were jealous that it wasn’t them. 

The family left you be as they finished their lunch. Once they all finished their own food, Tonowari stood up with you in his arms as he made his way to where his family sleeps and laid down with you. As he settled down you snuggled into him further. Soon enough, the whole family gathered around him and you, to keep watch over you as you slept. 

They stayed that way for about an hour before you started to wake up. You blinked your eyes open before reaching a hand up to rub the sleep from them. You sat up and stretched before looking around yourself. You noticed that Tonowari was what you were laying on, and the other three were sitting around him. 

All of them thought it was adorable, what you did after you woke up. They all had smiles on their faces as you finally looked around yourself. With how unaware you were when tired, it was a good thing you ended up there with them to watch over you. 

You groggily said, “Good morning.” Then you stood up to stretch more before making your way over to your bag and digging around in it for something. Tsireya and Ronal got up to go with you to your bag and see what you had in it. It looked like mostly clothes, what looked like a blanket, a brush, a smaller brush, some circle things, and a piece of human technology. You grabbed the brush and circle things before turning to look at them. 

You looked at the two women and asked if they could brush and do your hair. It was a mess after being dragged through the water. They each smiled and agreed before taking you somewhere else in their home. Ronal sat behind you and started to gently brush through your hair, and Tsireya sat in front of you to ask you what you wanted them to do with your hair. 

You sat happily and described french braids to them. With the small explanation that the braids in their hair could mess up yours if they put them in it. They absorbed the information happily. Both took a mental note that tight, but not tiny, braids were fine in your hair. Once Ronal was done brushing your hair, you asked her to part it down the middle to do two braids. She parted it and both women started on a side of your head and quickly finished the simple braids.

You ran over to their version of a mirror and craned your head to look at it. Aonung came over and picked you up so you could look at yourself in it. You beamed and thanked them for doing your hair. They smiled and told you it was no problem. You walked to the ‘door’ of their home and looked out at the water. You saw some navi people swimming in the water by the rock things and wanted to go swimming as well. 

You turned to the navi around you and asked them if you could go swim. They told you they had no problem with it, only that Tsireya and Aonung had to go with you just in case something happened. You happily agreed and went to your bag to get out a swimsuit. They looked at you curiously for it. You explained the general purpose of a swimsuit and why it was important for humans to wear them when swimming. They were still confused but nodded anyway, surprised at how sensitive human skin was. 

You asked for help changing, and within a minute you were ready. This time Aonung was the one carrying you out to the water. He set you down just as he reached the shore. Him and his sister watched as you immediately went into the shallow water and waded around. It went up to your waist, but would only go up to each of their calves. You went to look around in the water, occasionally picking up a shell and tossing it to the dry part of the sand, clearly wanting to keep them. 

You waved both of them to go in the water with you as you went to the deeper parts of it. They quickly went to your side to swim with you. You almost ignored them as you paddled your way into the deeper water. You started to float on your front so you could look down into the water. Everything on Pandora was just so pretty to you, you were always in awe at anything new. After only a minute you brought your head up to the surface to get some air. 

You swam a little farther out before taking a deep breath and diving down a bit. You swam in little circles under the surface, looking at everything around you with wonder. The siblings were just looking at you with amusement. Happy that you like being here and being in the water. Though you can’t stay under for very long at this point. 

-Once you came back up, they went right beside you to ask if you wanted to learn how to hold your breath for a longer period of time. You enthusiastically agreed. 

-So, for a week you get some light lessons on breathing properly to be underwater for longer. Light, because Ronal and Tonowari didn’t want you to strain yourself too much. Plus, they each had you with them when doing their safer duties so they could spend time with you. Those lessons and meal times were their kids’ chance to bond with you more.

-As you got used to living with the family, they began to consider you family. Their baby. And they were very protective of you. They kept you close to them at all moments of the day, no matter what they were doing and who they were with. 

-They began subtly pushing you to call them your family. They begin to use phrases like ‘your siblings’, ‘your mother’, ‘your father’, and so on. And you accept them, but continue to call all of them by their names. You’ve given them all nicknames, which they think are cute, but they want you to acknowledge them as your family. 

-They think since you haven’t done it on your own, that they’ll have to prompt you to start calling them by familial terms. They brought it up to you one night at dinner.

-Tonowari looked over at you, who was sitting in his other daughter’s lap, and brought forth the question. 

“Y/N, you have been with us for a while now. We all see you as a part of our family now. But you still call us by our names. Can you try to refer to us as family from now on? Like Mother, father, sister, and brother?” He said this softly and tentatively. Maybe a little afraid of your response. You just looked up to him with a thinking face. You finally spoke to tell them that you thought of them as family too and would start adjusting to using different terms.

All of the family were so happy. Tsireya had hugged you further to her after hearing you say that. And the rest had beaming smiles aimed at you. You smiled back at them before going back to your meal. The rest of the night went as it usually did. 

-In the morning is when things changed a little bit. As everyone woke up, you said your good mornings as per usual. When you wanted to be picked up you reached up to Tonowari and said, “Up please Papa.” His heart melted when you said that and he instantly scooped you up and cradled you closer to him. 

-You leaned your head onto his shoulder as he held you while the rest of the family helped make breakfast. You ate breakfast in your new father’s lap, then thanked Ronal by saying, “Thank you for breakfast Mama.” She said, “It’s no problem at all, my baby.” The whole family was smiling at the interaction.

-You couldn’t figure out a way to use brother or sister in a sentence said to your new siblings, and you told them this. They were a bit disappointed at it, but figured it was a human thing with how you learned to speak. 

-They both hugged you and told you they don’t mind, as long as you knew they were your siblings now. You smiled and nodded before beginning to drag them to the water with you so you could wade around for shells and swim around a bit before lunch.

-You spent about 2 hours collecting shells you thought were pretty while Tsireya helped you and Aonung swam with his friends for a bit. His friends liked you, but you were very shy around them and preferred being around your family. 

-After you got bored with the shells, you put the ones you liked the most in the small basket your sister always brought for you. Then, you went back to Tsireya and dragged her with you into the deeper water. Well, she let you take her with you, and just let you think you were moving her on your own. 

-She continues to help you with your breathing so you could stay under for longer. You have gotten up to four minutes underwater. Your sister was proud of you for making so much progress, but knew you could improve a little bit more. You would never need to do anything under the water, as a human and the precious baby of their family, but she knew being underwater and looking around at everything made you happy. And she really wanted you to be, and stay, happy.

You had taken some extra instruction from your sister before following the special breathing and diving below the surface. You went about halfway down and towards the reefs. You gently touched the stationary life on the reef and smiled as it touched you back. Tsireya was right with you, smiling as you continued to admire the nature you now saw everyday. 

She kept an eye on you as you did your daily exploration. You went over multiple organisms on the reef before making your way back to the surface. You took another breath before going back under and swaying your arms to the movements of the tiny school of fish by you. You continued to do this before going back to the surface again. 

This time Tsireya came up with you. She knew you got tired quickly and would take a short nap before lunch. You went a bit away from her and started floating on your back before going still and lightly dozing off. She knew you floated well, but stayed close to you anyway. 

You stayed in your light sleep until you two got called to lunch. Your parents had brought the food they made outside so you could eat outside of the marui. You almost pranced up onto the shore after fully waking up and swimming as far as you could until you could stand on the bottom. Tsireya wasn’t far behind you, and Aonung started to swim over after spotting you from a distance with his friends. 

Aonung swam as quick as he could and made it to you two right as you were exiting the water. You waddled over to your parents as they sat down on the sand. You stopped a little ways away from them and wrung your hair out as best as you could before walking over to your mother and plopping down in her lap. 

-Everyone quickly gathered around the food and made their plates, with Tonowari making yours. He still thought it was too little food, but you never finished it if they added a little bit more, plus you seemed healthy and happy enough. 

-They started eating at the same time as you did. You happily ate and then set your bowl aside as you finished, then leaned further back into Ronal while everyone else finished their lunch. Tonowari took the remnants of lunch back to the marui and Ronal picked you up as she stood. 

-She took you with her as she went further into the village. She had some duties as Tsahik, and she was going to have you accompany her until dinner. 

-She had brought your basket of shells to where she would be so you could continue your little projects with them as she did her duties. She sat you down on a cushion with your basket and plenty of string for your projects. She sat down right beside you as she started with what she needed to do. 

-After an hour she looked over to see what you were doing. She saw you had weaved some of the shells into something, but couldn’t figure out what it was at first. As you held it up to your head to check if it was large enough, she realized you were making a headpiece to mimic hers with the tiny shells you had collected.

-It only took you another fifteen minutes to finish it before you had put it on. It was a combination of pink and white shells framing your face, a pink one in the center of your forehead, and it looped around your two ‘french braids’ to keep it secure to your head. 

-You turned to her and waited for her to notice. She had been watching you as you put it on, but hummed and turned to you like she had just seen you turn to her. She looked over the headpiece with you directly looking at her, and told you that it was very pretty on you. 

You smiled and hopped up to your feet, which made the shells clink together when you moved. You went over to Ronal and hugged one of her arms and said, “Thank you Mama! I’m gonna go show Papa and my siblings!” You giggled when she kissed you head before motioning to the doorway of the hut you were in. 

You giggled as you ran out of the hut to find the other members of your family. You ran to where you thought your siblings would be, swimming with their friends. You stopped with your feet in the water and called out to them, “Reya! Nung! Come see what I made!” 

You easily got their attention and they looked over and noticed something on your head, but couldn’t see it well. They swam over to you and finally saw what it was. A shell headpiece. They told you it was pretty on you, and asked who made it. You proudly said that you made it yourself. They both kissed one of your cheeks and told you they were impressed with your work. 

You asked them where your dad was so you could show him too. They told you he would be coming back from fishing in a few minutes. You went to the dock and watched as the group of hunters appeared in the distance with full pouches of fish. You stood on the dock and waited for the group to get closer before calling out to your dad. 

You shouted, “Papa!” which got Tonowari’s attention and he came over to where you were standing on his skimwing. He stopped just beside you and hopped onto the dock to pick you up, knowing the other men would deal with his fish he caught. 

Right as he settled you in his arms, facing him, he noticed the new thing about you. He complimented the headpiece, saying it made you look very pretty. You giggled and responded, “Thank you Papa! I made it myself!” You were very proud of what you made, and so was he. He kissed all over your cheeks and forehead while telling you how proud he was of your skills, and how cute you were. You were loving the attention and the tinkling noise the shells made. 

-You kept the headpiece on everyday after that. Mixing your hair up from two braids to two ponytails, to two space buns every few days. 

-But, about two weeks after you finished it, you started to not feel very good. You thought you had a cold, and told your parents this. They were very concerned and asked what that was. You told them it was a minor sickness and they both immediately looked you over and asked if you would be okay. 

-You told them you just needed some rest, and maybe more water throughout the day. They decided to keep you with them during the days because you complained about feeling cold too, even though you felt warm to them. 

-The first day of your cold, you were strapped to Ronal’s back and stayed with her the whole day. Really only waking up to eat and drink. The second day of it, you were strapped to Tonowari’s back. And he would occasionally reach over his shoulder and pat your head. Still with the headpiece on, even though you weren’t awake to appreciate it, you insisted you wear it.

-In the middle of your day with your dad, some other people had arrived through the air. You woke up from being jostled a little as your dad rushed to the docks where they had landed. You still had your head resting on his shoulder, so you looked over at the other navi. 

You noticed they looked a lot different then all the navi you had gotten used to in your time here. You hummed while looking at them, which made your father look at you and rub your head before turning to them and talking to them. 

At some point your mother showed up and rubbed your back before going to the new group of navi and inspecting them. 

While they were doing this, the Sully family was looking at you and wondering why a tiny human was with the Metkayina, and apparently was accepted by the chief and his wife. They all thought you were super cute snoozing on Tonowari’s shoulder with your tiny shell headpiece. 

Not long after your mother showed up, your siblings did too. They looked over at you to check on you before inspecting the new arrivals. Aonung wasn’t impressed by them, but Tsireya was very curious. Your dad decided your siblings would teach the new kids your ways. You quietly said to him, “Papa, can I go with them?” 

You were too cute to say no to, so he just unstrapped you from himself and handed you over to your sister. She just said she would take care of you and strapped you to her front, facing her, and walked off to show the new people around. 

You looked over her shoulder and waved at the new people before laying your head down and going back to sleep.

~A/N: There will probably be a pt 2 to this at some point soon

[waldau-archived]

Hi love, can I request for Chan X reader, with the trope f2l?

here you go anon! this became WAY longer and a bit angstier than i expected (4k?? i thought i wrote like 2k), but it's all happy! hope you like it :) and here's the video in question. title taken from _WORLD by svt.

gender neutral reader. warnings: chan is initially tipsy.

won't let you down | 4,007 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this is the last time, chan tells himself, but he very well knows it's a lie. just like the past few times he's ended up like this, head resting against the scruffy but comfortable material of junhui's sofa, while seungkwan takes his phone from the table in front of him, unlocking it to call you.

it's happened enough times now that seungkwan finally knows the password to his phone, not that chan has anything to hide. he tries focusing on what seungkwan's saying to you, but there's a pleasant buzzing in his ears, and it would be a good environment to sleep if not for a) the angle of his neck against the aforementioned sofa and b) the music playing in the background, lee dokyeom trying to match the choreography while balancing a shot glass on his palm.

"there," seungkwan says, pushing the phone back into his hand. "try not to fall asleep till they get here."

easier said than done, especially when chan is much more of a lightweight than seungkwan is, even if he can hold his alcohol well. chan pockets his phone and tries adjusting his head a bit more comfortably. when he closes his eyes, he feels sleep tug at them, but it's not enough to knock him out fully.

a little jolt of guilt runs through him when he realizes tonight is your designated night in — you like having time for yourself, whether it's to catch up with old friends or make time time to check out vernon's movie recommendations. you shouldn't have to pick chan up from something that's his own fault.

he thinks about how you never once complain about what you do for him. there’s always an amused smile on your face, defending his tipsy self from his older brothers while you manoeuvre him out of the room, a steady arm around his shoulders, the way you let him rest his weight on you even though he’s so much more muscular than you are, and the way you sometimes let him loop his arm through yours as though you’re a couple—

he stops at that.

seungkwan's great when it comes to feeding his delusions, talking about how you definitely like him and that chan's the only one not seeing it, that he's kind of an idiot for dragging it out this long, that he should put everyone out of their misery and ask you out already.

again, it's easier said than done. chan's not like seungkwan — outgoing, with no hesitation when it comes to finding something out. chan doesn't act till he's absolutely sure about something, always thinking about the long-term consequences of every little action. and he could put everyone out of their misery by asking you out, but he’s not prepared for the misery that’ll ensue when you don’t answer the way he hopes you will.

unfortunately, there’s no proper way for him to ask you, his best friend, if you like him the way he does you.

chan just lets the buzz in his head drown out the thoughts crowding up. he will find the answer one day, somehow. he has to. just...not tonight.

he must have fallen asleep sometime between thoughts of wonwoo on the karaoke and you, because his eyes blink open to the sight of you kneeling in front of him, a concerned look on your face.

and gosh, does he hate it. he hates seeing you concerned when you look at him. he's still never gotten used to how your smile has been making him feel, and he doesn't think he ever will.

"hey," you say softly, moving to rest your hand on his thigh. an involuntary shudder passes through him, and you take your hand off before he can say anything. he mourns its loss almost instantly. "seungkwan said you had a bit too much to drink. you okay?"

the tattletale. chan stretches his neck and winces when a spear of pain strikes the left side of his head, going as fast as it came. "mm. look who’s talking."

you frown at him. "how much did you drink, chan?"

"i...don't know." it's true — he lost count after the first six shots. everything else was drowned out by being forced to sing on the karaoke or watching minghao try his hardest to sing some korean classics from the early nineties. it was fun, but there’s always the regret that follows the fun, and it’s strong this time. he looks at you apologetically, hoping his face is enough to make up for the words he can't say.

if he were a neon signboard, he wonders what the words above his head would be every time he looked at you — i'm sorry? for loving you the way i do? or i love you? but i've never been able to say it the way i mean it because i'm afraid of losing you.

you sigh and stand up. "get up," you say gently, giving him your hand to steady himself.

it's not the first time you've danced this dance, but it still makes chan's heart beat as though it's never happened before. it's muscle memory from here — he stands up on his feet, wobbly for a few moments till you slide an arm around his waist to hold him in place, his arm around your shoulders.

you’re wearing the hoodie he’d given you for your birthday. he can feel it before you see it, a drunk grin spreading across his lips. you look good in everything you wear, but this? chan’s weak.

you fuss about his hair looking messy and run your hand through it twice, fixing it to your liking. then it’s the default goodbyes, the promises to text everyone once he's reached home safely, and to hydrate himself so that he doesn't wake up the next morning wishing he'd never woken up.

but he doesn’t have to worry about all of that when he’s with you. you always make sure he’s taken care of, and it’s the only thing on his mind when both of you stumble out of junhui’s building, the cold night air making chan shiver and freeze for a second. his hand catches on the fabric of your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” he says, suddenly feeling nervous to meet your eyes. you shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“did you do something i should be worried about?”

“i…no?”

“then why are you apologizing?”

“i always do this.”

"and i always do this," you say, opening the door of your car and gesturing for chan to get in. "you're speaking as though i mind."

"i'm drunk. you should be sleeping. and...wait, you don't mind it?"

“no,” you say patiently, slotting your key into its place and starting the car. “we’ve had this conversation before, too. i don’t mind it. it’s not as if you don’t look out for me when i’m feeling down. i don’t know anyone else who would watch my favourite movies with me even when they’d rather be doing something else.”

"that's because you're my best friend," chan says, almost cringing at how earnestly, how easily, those words come from him.

"do you understand why i don't mind now?"

it's easy to give you anything, but chan still gets bashful about taking anything from you. he's much better at it than he used to be when you first met. he just huffs in response.

"what would you do without me, channie?" you ask, pulling out of your spot. it's an innocent question, slightly teasing, but chan takes it seriously. do you have any idea of what that nickname does to him?

"i don't know," he says honestly. "i don't want to know."

you sigh fondly and flick his thigh. "don't get all serious on me. i'm not going anywhere, and you know that."

sometimes chan wonders what you’ll do if you ever find out about what he feels for you. you’re too kind to let him down directly. maybe you’ll give him some time to get over you, so that you could go back to being friends again. or maybe, a cruel part of him thinks, you’ll cut him out of your life for good. neither option sounds good.

he can either take a step and watch the glass break, or never take a step and never find out what could have been. he’s precariously balanced in the middle, surviving on the quiet moments he has with you, moments that could be something more.

"i love you," he says, his words abrupt and almost harsh in the silence of your car.

"just because i'm driving you back home?"

or he can be right in the middle, where you don't understand how his love you is different from yours. it's not the best place to be, but he gets to be true to an extent.

"you know it's not just that." see through me, just this once?

"i do," you say, not looking at him. "i know." again. maybe next time.

it's muscle memory again, when you open the door to your apartment, flicking the lights on as chan clumsily kicks off his shoes. it’s not long before he’s had a glass of water and a tablet you pressed into his palm, not moving till he had it in front of you. he types out a clumsy i’m home now text to the group before he chuckles at the realization — none of his friends once assumed he was going to make it to his own place.

with his face washed and the headache dulling to a slight throb, he’s pretty close to passing out on your bed. he almost whines when you tell him you have some work left to do.

with the door shutting behind you, chan pulls the covers over himself, vaguely aware of how uncomfortable it is to sleep in skinny jeans. it’s not like you’ve never shared the same bed before, but it’s the first time he’s slept by himself in your bed. and the first time he’s been here since he’s realized his feelings for you.

chan tosses and turns as he tries to will himself to sleep, straining his hears to see if he can get any hints about how much longer you’re going to take. you’ve somehow not made him take his jean jacket off, despite the fact that you usually insist on making him remove that “atrocity” of an item before sleeping, but it’s what keeps him warm when he pads out into the living room to see why you’re still not done.

"...do this again," he hears you say into your phone. you're standing in the middle of your living room, looking like you've been pacing around for a while now. "i can't. i can't keep pretending everything's okay. this is like, what, the fourth time in the past three months?"

do what again? and who are you talking to, so late at night? chan wants to ask you if there's anything he can do, even though he knows nothing about what's wrong, but you speak again. he tries not to make too much noise as he takes a few steps ahead.

you groan into the phone. "what do you mean, drop hints? what do you think i’ve been doing? i’ll lose my mind at this rate. and i just can't tell him i can't keep picking you up from your parties every time you get drunk because i— hey. that's not the issue here. you know that."

chan's stomach drops.

there's no one else you pick up from parties, that much he's sure of. but you've been counting? and you're...annoyed by it, but you're too kind to say that to his face? he feels like crawling out of his own skin.

you sigh. "i'll try telling him the next time he's awake and feeling better, okay? no promises."

chan's already turning back to head to your room, mortified with every step he takes. he shouldn't even be here. he should be on the couch.

how long have you been feeling that way, without him knowing? how much longer will you be this nice to him until it inevitably slips out?

it’s not long before you slip into your bedroom, closing the door behind you without making too much noise. chan hears the clink of your toothbrush being put back into its stand and the sound of the light being switched off before you pull the covers and settle in.

chan tries to slow his breath to make it look like he’s sleeping, because he’s way too high strung for this. your conversation with whoever it was is still running through his head. probably one of his friends, and he can’t even be bothered to speculate about who it could be.

“chan?” you ask, breaking the silence in the room. he pretends to blink his eyes open but knows you’ve caught him when you ask, “not able to sleep?”

“not tired,” he says, voice cracking in between. you’re on my mind is far more damning than saying he can’t sleep.

“did i wake you up? i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s not that,” he says, a bit hastily. “just…had a bit too much to drink. i could run now if i wanted.”

“well, it’s a good thing i’m not going to let you.”

chan lets out a little chuckle. if only you knew what effect your words have on him.

“can i…?” you ask hesitantly, before he feels fingertips touch his own. he immediately locks his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand. it’s one of your ways of calming down when you’re stressed, and chan thinks he gets why.

feeling a bit brave, he lets his thumb stroke the skin of your hand. he does it till he feels your breaths even out, grip on his hand loosening. even when that happens, it doesn’t let go. he can’t.

but he has to, eventually.

seeing you sleeping gives him some time to collect his thoughts. he could just leave right now, before he makes thinks weird by overthinking again. he needs time to understand what you meant when you said you couldn’t keep doing it and yet you’re the one who held his hand to help him go to sleep.

surely you’re not going to be upset when he leaves a little earlier than he usually would, when he sleeps over at your place?

yet it feels like luck isn’t on his side when he pushes himself to get up, immediately hindered by a creaky spring in your mattress. your hand twitches at that, and he gets up in one swift motion to prevent any noise.

but when his hand is on the handle of your door, he hears his name being called out weakly. questioningly. he stays silent, hoping you won’t get up.

“are you leaving already?”

“just…forgot i left my light on. in the bathroom.”

“right.” he can’t see your face in the darkness of the room, but he knows you’re unimpressed right now. it is a weak excuse. “come back here, please?”

chan is powerless if you ask him something. against his best interest, he walks up to you slowly, standing near your bed.

“don’t do that,” you say, shifting to switch on your bedside lamp. “you look like a sleep paralysis demon without the lights on. sit here,” you say, patting the side of your bed.

something’s going to happen, chan can tell. he just doesn’t know if it’s something he should be looking forward to or not.

“i shouldn’t disturb your sleep, you know?”

“no. what you shouldn’t be doing is acting weird. you’ve been acting weird all night. did i do something?”

you look serious, chan realizes. there’s a small frown on your face chan wishes he could thumb out, or maybe even press a kiss to, to make it go. that’s what the problem is.

“you’ve done nothing,” he blurts out. “all me.”

“all you what?”

“it’s nothing.”

you sit up to push the covers off of yourself. “chan, you’ve been meek around me all night. i’ve never seen you do that. i’ve never seen you doubt yourself the way you did tonight. you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

and how is he supposed to do that, when it could be the very thing that could lead you to never talk to him again?

“it’s my fault,” he settles for saying. “and i’m working on it. i promise you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“are you sure you can’t tell me about it?”

“positive.” i don’t know what would happen if i did.

you don’t look satisfied, but you let it slide. “are you still not tired? do you want to watch a movie? make something? pancakes, if you’re hungry?”

chan can’t help the laugh he lets out. you always think about him, even if you’re the one losing your sleep here. it’s the catalyst to the last lock on his words breaking.

“i love you,” he says, and the remaining words tumble out naturally like they were made never to be apart. “i love you, and i’ve been trying to tell you for way too long, and i think i missed my chance, because you clearly don’t like me.”

“i…don’t like you? and you love me? chan, what?” you ask, scrambling forward, hands resting on his thighs again. he doesn’t shudder, this time. lets his words come out the way they’ve been slowly forming in him, like a storm that’s been brewing for a while. all that will be left to see is the aftermath.

“i heard you say you wanted to tell me something when i felt better, and that you couldn’t keep doing…it anymore. if you didn’t want to waste time picking me up from parties, you could have just said that.”

“oh,” is all you say.

chan deflates. “we’re…not supposed to have secrets from each other, right? why couldn’t you tell me that before?”

“chan—”

“it sucks that i had to overhear you say that. i thought you trusted me enough.”

“chan, listen—”

“i’m not scared, if that’s what you think. i—”

“lee chan!” you exclaim, suddenly taking his face between your hands. he’s rendered speechless. “listen to me?”

he can do nothing but nod, looking into your eyes. you’re looking into his own.

“lee chan, i love you. do you hear me? you’re my best friend in the whole world and i meant it when i said i’d love you no matter what. but i also love you the way you think i don’t.”

chan’s brain short-circuits to the point where he doesn’t even remember what he was talking to you about, for a few moments. “you…love me?”

“i do,” you affirm. “i have, for a while now, and i never thought i’d get a chance to say it.”

it feels like a weight is being placed on him but also being removed at the same time. the weight of your love seeping into his skin through your hands holding his face, through your cold skin that he always wants to keep warm, through your eyes that are looking at him nervously, waiting for his next words, through your breaths that sound a bit shorter than usual.

the loss of the weight of uncertainty feels like the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

“you love me,” he says. testing. confirming.

“so much, chan, i— i’ve been trying to tell you every single time i picked you up from one of those parties—”

“—that’s what you were trying to say?”

“i— yes.” your hands let go of his face to cover yours, and he’s never wanted to see your face more than he has now. he gently pulls your hands off to make you look at him, and what he sees is real. it’s not you letting him down gently, it’s not you pretending, because he knows you too well for that.

and now he knows that you love him just the way he loves you.

“you weren’t supposed to…why did you even hear me talking?”

now it’s chan’s turn to become shy. “i just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to come back. i couldn’t sleep.”

“silly,” you say, flicking his forehead gently. you tuck some of his hair behind his ear, and your expression becomes serious. “but i want to, chan. i want to take care of you because you’re my best friend. i like doing it. i— i love you, and i’ll always be there to take off your makeup and listen to you talk and cheer you up because i love you so much.”

chan knows. he knows about every little thing you do for him, and he hopes you know how he’d do anything you asked of him. he doesn’t even need to say anything to get you to understand what he’s feeling right now.

“so…you love me,” he says, teasing, because of the glare you give him. “how long have you loved me?”

you shake your head resolutely. “you’re going to have to wait a while to find out.”

“but what if i wanted to know now?” chan pulls the best puppy face he can, and it works because you sigh and pull him back into lying down with you, his head in your lap, looking up at you.

“you really want to know?”

“yeah.”

“it’s embarrassing.”

“that’s even better.” chan wraps his arms around your waist when you attempt to push him off. “i’m sorry,” he laughs, holding on to you. “please tell me.”

“i think…i think i’ve loved you since that night you fell off seungcheol’s bed because of how hard you were laughing. that night really cemented it for me. there really hasn’t been…anyone else for me, since then.”

the quietness of your voice makes chan’s throat constrict. “there hasn’t been anyone else for me, either, ever since i met you.”

you blink. “that long?”

“no! i mean— i didn’t think about dating ever since we became friends, and then not thinking about dating became thinking about dating you, and then—” chan pauses when he sees a smile on your face. “what?” he asks, a little self-conscious. “did i say something wrong?”

“i’m so glad i love you, you know?”

chan can’t take the way your face is straight and you’re just grinning at him like you didn’t steal his heart at an ungodly hour in the morning. “stop,” he mumbles, pressing his face into your stomach. “i’m really tired right now.”

“oh, now you’re tired?”

it take a little bit of moving to get yourselves under your covers again (chan’s jacket now sits on the chair by the desk, courtesy of you), and this time he has an arm around your waist with your head on his shoulder. it feels absolutely right.

“chan?” you ask, the single word drawn out in a way that tells him you’re on the brink of sleep again.

“hmm?”

“promise i won’t wake up to an empty bed again?”

his heart squeezes at the reminder. “promise. i’m not going anywhere. i love you.”

you don’t need to say it back, because he feels the smile you press into his skin.

"so? what does it feel like?"

“hm?” chan shifts in your embrace to look up at you. there’s really nothing better than coming home after a long day of practice, taking a shower and cuddling with you in bed, with you kissing his forehead. he feels really sleepy, but he tries staying awake for your question. “what does what feel like?”

“knowing what it feels like to like someone?”

ah. you watched the video, then.

“it feels…” it feels like everything, if he’s being honest. the best of all worlds. like the world sings every time he wakes up. like even the most mundane things like doing laundry and setting the table have a greater purpose, because he gets to do it with the love of his life.

“it feels like i’m lucky to be alive, because i get to love you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[aurorawritestoescape]

FLAT LINE || dark!Dave York x f!reader || 800

18+ mdni DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non con, smut

creator chose not to use all the warnings

*****

His obsidian eyes are boring into yours, as you’re thrashing and wriggling, completely naked, while his hand on your throat is holding you pressed to the bed. Your legs are getting tangled tighter and tighter in the cold sheets, soaked with your and your boyfriend’s sweat and cum.

You two were having one of those nights, drinking, smoking and fucking on a loop until this monster slithered into your house and took a shot. Only one for now but you’re sure there’ll be one more.

You’re trying to push him off with your trembling hands, eyes darting between his bloodcurdling stare and the splatter of blood on your wrist. Soon you focus only on them as your mind tries to save you from seeing the whole picture-you’re dying tonight.

The killer lets go your throat, you cough and then try to scream but like in a nightmare nothing comes out of your burning throat.

When he’s done condescending you with this joke of a fight he grabs your hands and cuffs you to the bed. You haven’t done this with your boyfriend tonight but the images of him tying you up a few times before emerge from your memory and you gush more.

As if sensing this pathetic reaction of your body, the man spreads your legs and leers at your puffy cunt.

“You’ve had a fun night, sweetheart?”

His tone is calm, static like a flat line and your heart seems to stop beating, as if already giving up.

His fingers easily slip inside your stretched hole and you jerk and try to kick him off. The killer grabs your ankles and holds them pressed to his shoulder, one big hand is enough to keep your legs together.

He renders you completely helpless, hands chained to the bed, legs bound by his strong grip.

His fingers return to your hole and he pushes them deep into you, with the same cold dead eyes.

“How many times did he come inside you tonight?”

You mewl at the question, staring up at him, vision blurry with tears.

He quickly pushes your legs off his shoulder and holds them up. You squeal even before he slaps your cunt with the back of his hand. Hard. It burns like hell but your whole body buzzes as the stroke sends a wave of arousal from your overstimulated clit to every cell in your body.

“How…many?” He slowly repeats the question and you hurry to reply, scared of another hit.

“Three”

“Good,” he says and gently rubs your swollen pussy.

You half moan, half cry out as your walls contract at his touch.

He breathes in sharply when a trickle of creamy liquid flows out of your hole.

“She’s all used up and filled to the brim. Lovely.”You hear him say quietly and to your horror he opens his pants with a free hand and pulls out his cock. It’s hard and huge and you whine a pathetic ‘please’ which he leaves completely unnoticed.

He sits on his knees and then gets on top of you, your ankles still in his hand, caging your legs between his body and yours.

The killer plunges in fast and hard, quickly parting your walls with his thick long cock. He’s bigger than your boyfriend and you feel a sting of the stretch.

The man moans over you, pleasure twisting his face, very close to yours now. Hearing him you can’t stop your pussy from squeezing his length.

“So much cum, sweetheart. Feel it pouring out?My balls are soaked,” He whispers against your cheek, his soft lips tickling you.

“Please,” you mewl once again and once again it stays unnoticed.

He lets go of your legs and you don’t have time to react before he manhandles you into a mating-press, bracing his elbows on the bed by your shoulders and starts pounding into you. Your abused cunt burns at first but all the cum inside quickly turns the pain into pleasant stimulation and you chew on your swollen lips.

He growls and roars over your heated face and you squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment hearing your pussy squelch loudly as his cock churns your boyfriend’s cum inside your cunt.

“Can she take one more?” You hear him growl and open your eyes in fear. If he comes soon it means you have only seconds.

“Please, please, let me go… don’t k…” his palm slaps over your mouth and he bites your cheek, making you squeal into his hand.

“Shut up. Daddy’s coming.”

A few more thrusts and you see him close his eyes as he stills while his warmth is spilling inside you. Then he rolls his hips, spurting his seed again and again until you’re so full of cum you feel it press on your walls already stretched out by his cock.

When he seems to be done, his lips brush against your stinging cheek and you feel cold metal pressed to your temple.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” is the last thing you hear.

*****

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs will make my praise kink go brrrr!

No tag list for this one. If you’d like to be tagged in my dark fics, let me know♥️

[pvrkacciosan]

Kicks and Kisses

Summary: After the readers run-in with Xaden's training methods, Bodhi isn't in any rush to let her back on them defenseless so takes it upon himself to teach her a few things.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Bodhi Durran X Marked Fem! Reader

Word Count: uncounted

Warnings: Suggestive, swearing, fighting training, Mature language content

☽⋆❈⋆☾

With the valiant help from a group of young healers you were released from the prescribed rest, and were able to get yourself back up and moving within a week.

You were still tender but your breathing wouldn't cut out on you and the blinding pain was no longer erupting behind your eyes rendering you useless in ever sense.

But still Bodhi had refused to let you return back to your own dorm in that time. Even when you had a perfectly good bed there.

Those beds are un-comfy and you know it.

You rolled your eyes at Asra, whether she could sense your attitude, you were hopeful she couldn't,

I don't understand why he won't let me go back to my own bed. That chair can't be very comfortable. You stared at the chair positioned on the far side of the room, the one Bodhi had been sleeping in whilst you took his bed. You didn't understand why you were entertaining such topics of conversation with her. Talking with Asra had always come naturally, like a sister you could confine in, and the subject of Bodhi Durran left your chest feeling warm in a rather pleasant way.

So Invite him into the bed with you.

It wasn't difficult for you to sense every dripping pulse of Asra's amusement, you gawked at her words in your head.

I can't do that. Won't it be awkward You couldn't help but contemplate the outcome.

Don't be foolish girl. You're a dragon rider, start acting like it. If you want something you might just start acting like that Riorson boy, heys taken the silver one to bed.

You didn't want to know where she had got that piece of information. But the notion of what she was speaking... There was a difference between asking Bodhi to share his bed and committing to taking him in his bed.

When Asra laughed in your head, you clamped your knees together, trying to ignore the heat that was building there. As you ripped the covers of Bodhi's bed from atop your body, you could't stop the swirling of those blood igniting thoughts. Couldn't decide what you would want more, to have him sleeping in the bed with you, or having him take you in the bed you had come to love.

The quilt scented of him. A deep smell that you hadn't noticed the first night you slept, it lingered on everything in this room.

His scent has been all over you. Asra's voice in your head, you only assumed she was referring to when you had gone flying yesterday, trying to ease yourself back into training once you got the all clear from the healers.

Bodhi and Cuir had flown with you both yesterday, positioning himself slightly below you, to catch you should you fall off Asra's back.

I would have caught you. Asra's voice was dripping with some tone you couldn't place, Laughing lightly in your own head you shot it down the bond. She didn't respond beyond that of a gentle huff.

Closing up the wall between you. Moving to begin gathering ouself from the room. Bodhi was supposed to meet you down at the mats for an initial round of training, trying to strengthen the muscles and reconditioning them to get back to what they had once been.

And as usual, you were running late. At least you could use the excuse of your lingering injuries. They weren't as painful, just uncomfotable. Especially your shoulder, a mender had reattached many of the tendsons and ligaments in your shoulder, but you still have only light movement in the joint.

Moving down through the halls, you rounded into the training room. The mats laid out as per usual, there were a couple cadets scattered around each pair training away from one another in private lessons.

Strolling in softly you glanced around and spotted two famiar bodies. Sauntering closer you watched them, matching hit for powerful hit on one another.

Bodhi and Xaden often never sparred with each other. Garrick was the usual go-to. The third boy was on the side of the mat, arms folded as he watched the cousins spar. You moved to stand beside the giant.

"Hey Y/n" He offered you a small smile.

At the sound of your names, Bodhi glanced up, un-focusing the fight at hand. It landed him a stiff jaw from the next punch Xaden landed. Blinking to look you over once, Bodhi dodged out the way of his cousins next hit.

You watched from the side returning Garrick's smile with one of your own before turning back unaware of the excited glances Garrick was switching between you and Bodhi.

"Garrick.," Bodhi warned as he dodged a swing from Xaden before getting a punch in at the Wingleader's ribs.

You glance questioningly up at the boy beside you, Garrick coughed, covering his smirk with a hand.

"They are sparring to burn off...Pent up...emotions"

You frowned at him, that definitely was not what Garrick was entertaining in his thoughts. You squinted at him before glancing to watch Bodhi swing hard and fast for Xaden. What Bodi lacked in size against his cousin and Garrick he surely made up for in speed. His exposed muscles rippling with each movement. Your gaze zones in on the sweat gleaming, coating every inch of his skin.

What it would be like to have his body pressed against you own on that bed, having him above or below you, At each others mercy.

You're drooling

You went to snip back at Asra but she hid behind your mental shield straight after her own words.

Paranoia took hold, Twisting away from Garrick slightly you wiped at your lower lip and chin with the back of your hand. You weren't but you still sense Asra's lingering amusement at your sudden panic.

Turning back to watch, Xaden and Bodhi panting hard as they finally parted from one another on the mat. Bodhi gave Xaden's shoulder a rough shoves but they were both smiling as they stepped back.

Xaden initially avoided your gaze. You hadn't seen the Wingleader since the day of your injury. Besides once when he had tried to come see you. Bodhi had refused to let him in then and you could still recall the sound of them arguing outside the bedroom door.

He tried now to get out of the way, Slipping from the room. Bodhi folded his arms across his chest clearing his throat, Xaden froze. Pivoting to meet your stare.

"Y/n I'm sorry for putting you on that mat" His tone was so awkward even you didn't know what exactly to say. Bodhi rose his eyebrows when Xaden cast him a sidelong glance.

The Wingleader sighed, "It was clear you didn't want to fight, I shouldn't have made you and it won't happen again"

Bodhi was grinning like an idiot in your direction when Xaden finally rose back to his full height. Bodhi watching you intently, waiting for you to acknowledge his efforts in making his cousin apologize. Something about the way he smiled at you made the strings in your heart cinch. Asra slide into your mind, her presence alone snapping you from watching Bodhi.

Glancing to Xaden, "I'm fine Xaden. I'm alive am I not?" The Wingleader waited. Attention flicking to Bodhi, You warily followed his stare. A muscle beneath Bodhi's eyes twitched, Garrick caught it after seeing the expression on your own face. Spinning himself into the middle of the two and clasped Xaden roughly on one shoulder.

"Right we're off to find your opponent from that day. Try and make sure Imogen hasn't gutted the girl for her slander against you" Garrick's usually stoic face was set in a grin, you had a feeling he might sooner set Imogen on the girl first before saving her hide.

Garrick and Xaden stalked from the mats, leaving the room entirely within a few long strides,

When you turned back to obverse Bodhi, heat bloomed in your cheeks to find him already watching you.

"Right" He shook his head, these dark curls shaking to cover his brow bone. "Let's get started."

After running through a quick warm up with him your skin had already formed up quite a sweat. Many of the other cadets had vacated the training room, probably to attend to other daily duties.

Bodhi had been wary of your shoulder joint and coached you through each movement, sometimes he would place a hand against your body to steady the off balance the injuries had given you and It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus.

Moving off the mat to grab a quick drink of water you tried to organise the shambling thoughts which flushed your flesh to the core.

"We will move onto some evasion techniques and manoeuvrers to get yourself out of someone's grip."

You nodded, taking a quick final gulp of the water, evasion and defensive practise that would be fine. You had done this before.

You turned to move back onto the mat when your thoughts finally processed what you were getting yourself into. There was only a few ways to actively practise these sorts of manoeuvrers . Ones that involved lots of bodily contact.

You blinked as Bodhi shook his muscles, rolling each of his joints, The silence prompted him to look up

"I won't bite" there was a boyish smirk gracing his lips, it was an expression you had seen on him for years since knowing each other, often when causing mischief. The only form of consistency it offered you now was that it caused your heart to hammer harder against your ribs.

Pull yourself together. You were reducing yourself to no better than a teenage boy seeing a women naked for the first time in his life. Sighing deeply you moved onto the mat.

Bodhi stilled hands clasping together, allowing you to come closer, he watched carefully, assessing you.

"How is your shoulder feeling?"

Prompted by his question you rolled the ball and socket joint, easing deeper into the muscle there. They ached slightly but nothing more beyond overexerting the shoulder.

"All good" smiling softly you ignored the joint focusing now as Bodhi began to prepare himself.

"We are going to start with something simple. If someone tries to grab you from the front."

He waited for you to nod before continuing, "I'm going to grab for you and all you have to do is get me off you. We will critique everything once we've gone through every scenario "

He didn't wait for your acknowledgement now, unprepared you stepped back when both of Bodhi's hands came up towards you. As his body followed through your own muscle memory kicked in, grabbing his right wrist you jammed a thumb into the pulse point there and twisted— hard.

Bodhi let loose a grunt as he moved with the twisting limb, following so you wouldn't break his arm entirely. You only let go once his limb was flush unnaturally against his back.

"Good." He turned shaking his wrist lightly "That was perfect. Could be a little quicker with your reaction time, but we will work on that in our next session"

You nodded, worriedly glancing at his wrist perhaps you had been too forceful.

"This time we are going to run with the scenario that I actually got a hold on you"

Bodhi closed the gap separating you both, slowly raises his hands, hesitating with them hovering your body, noting their destined locations you gave Bodhi the go ahead. He rests his hand on your left shoulder the other at the base of your neck.

"Right.." Bodhi cleared his throat, "I'm going to pretend to be trying to push you back as if to get you.. against a wall. Get out of my grip."

Nervous, you glance at him, he offers an encouraging smile, nodding softly you tried desperately to ignore as his grip squeezes lightly against you body, try to ignore the pander of heartbeats that flutter in you.

When Bodhi began to push back you resisted, planting a foot behind to stabilise the weight of you. The muscles in the back of the leg stretching with the pressure. The result of Bodhi pushing you however; his hand pushing into your windpipe, slowing the flow of air to you with dizzying affect and not from the lack of oxygen.

Relaxing the breaths you took, You made quick work of trying to lessen his grip. Pressing your finger into his wrist's pulse point.

"Find somethinng new. That's not going to work a second time"

Frustration grew like a building short circuit. You knew strength wasn't your biggest fighting factor, it was instinct at this point born and bred as a female to go for a man's weakest point and it was taking everything within your resolve to not kick between his legs.

Pressure point began quizzing through your mind. Bodhi watches as your eyes flicked across his body ravaging at the sight of your attention on him. Felt the heat of it across every inch of his aching skin, tensioned for the need of touch, your touch. You were simply looking for his weaknesses, ones you could reach from the position you were currently in.

Shifting your weight into the side he held a hand to your throat, you rammed your thumb under his arm, nail digging into the soft flesh there.

Bodhi loosens his grip enough for you to duck under the other arm and release yourself. Bouncing back on the balls of your feet, you teetered towards the edges of the mat.

Bodhi rounded with a smirk, shooting a quick wink your way, "Atta Girl." The genuine pride and excitement in his tone made your cheeks flush.

Any focus you had fought to obtain since the beginning of this session slipped entirely away from you in that second. Shallow breathing, you shook yourself off the rising tension with it.

"Again." Bodhi gestured you back for the middle of the mat, "This time I'm coming at you from behind"

The air hauled in your throat, gulping quickly and moving back to the centre. Bodhi stepped up behind you.

He gave you even less warning. Albeit you could have used one this time unexpecting of his arms to latch themselves around your torso.

You needed to focus, focus on getting yourself out of his hold, but the only thing swirling in your mind was how close his body now was to yours, you could feel the rippling warm muscles on his chest against your back.

His arms tightened and you gasped lightly when you felt the sensation of his palm brush up the side of your breast, the material of your clothing ruffling as he righted his grip

A pulse of fresh warmth coursed through you, blooming from your core. It was almost painful as the material brushed the peak of your nipple.

If this was how your body reacted to his unintentional intimate touches you could only imagine what he might do to you intentionally.

"You seem distracted." the heat of his breath fanned your neck when he whispered the words against the shell of your ear, close enough you swore on your life that was his lips brush the curve.

Nerves rippled against him. You needed to get your shit together, but. . .

There was a smugness in his tone. That bastard, was he potentially... teasing on purpose to distract you? You swallowed a scoff. Two could definitely play at this game.

Grabbing his elbow you made an attempt to lift his arm up over your head, the well tones limb didn't move, but you couldn't resist the smile, for it was a cover up.

Rolling your hips and pushing you ass back against him. With the shared closeness he had created you heard his breath stuttered behind your ear and felt his pulse skyrocket.

Who was the distracted one now, driving the heel of your foot into the top of his, you heard the oxygen whoosh into his lungs as he hissed. Elevating the foot ever so slightly.

You wouldn't have the strength to throw him over your shoulder but if he was off balance as he was now. Gripping both hands as far up his arm as you could reach you twisted sharply into his unbalanced side.

Feeling his weight falling against you own you planted both legs to limit the chance of you falling too.

When Bodhi hit the ground you were diligent, moving quickly while he stunned to recall his senses.

Swinging one leg you planted yourself above him to pin him below you.

There was a second were you hadn't thought, just did. Hadn't realised what you were doing until you did it. Hadn't realised you now straddled his waist, hadn't realised you might have miscalculated the extent of your teasing until you felt the growth hardening beneath your ass.

Bodhi blinked at you in wild surprise as though he too now realised what had been done.

Had he not been thinking just as you hadn't? Simply following movements and feelings that felt so inheritable right until there was an irreversible shift between you both. Bodies welded together from where you sat atop him.

Every nerve in you was jackhammering in your heart, blood thrumming against your hearing. An unmistakable ache was growing between your legs, one which could and would lead to decisions you knew were irreversible.

Perhaps Bodhi had been teasing you simply to district, there was nothing attached to that. No emotion or feeling.

Foolish girl. You hadn't realised Asra had been listening into your thoughts, Had failed to notice she had lowered her shield. Is that how distracted Bodhi had made you?

You went to move from his lap, but Bodhi groaned, the sound low and guttural from deep at the back of his throat, head falling back with his eyes squeezing shut. Without looking his hand found your thigh, squeezing to hold you in place,

"Don't move." The guttural throaty sound in his voice blinded your every sense, glancing to his veined hand you couldn't rip your attention away until Bodhi blinked at you startled, a muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened.

Within the next second you attempted to lift yourself back off him, in one swift movement, Bodhi pushed himself up with a hand behind him. Using the grip on your leg to keep you on top of him, the positions now pushing you to sit further onto his growing erection.

It wasn't until he rightened himself that Bodhi released his grip only to move it across your body, you felt it clasp the back of your neck as he leaned closer pulling you with him and wasted no more time of colliding his lips with yours.

You stilled, stunned as his lips moved against your own, Asra's presence stroking against your mind prompting you from the stupor, her rebuilding her shield was enough of a hint and approval.

Softening your tense muscles you wrapped both arms to encircle around his shoulders, pulling your chest closer to his. Letting one hand slip to cup the back of his head. Fingers threading his dark curls.

Bodhi continued denying himself breath as he smiled, feeling you finally give in. Letting yourself match him. Giving and receiving the hot kisses, fast and swift.

They continued, hungry for more. Starved for the touch of one another. It was a sensation you didn't know you wanted — needed.

The heat encased between your bodies made your heart hammer into overdrive, Lifting your weight and then lowering it with a roll of your hips, causing friction against the now obvious erection beneath you.

Bodhi exhaled sharp and hot against your mouth, pulling from your lips. Once more his eyes squinted shut, brow furrowed.

You couldn't pry your attention away. The expression on his face alone set you emotions spiralling. It was the perfect mix of pain and pleasure rolled into one.

Wiggling your ass down, Bodhi groaned louder this time. His eyes snapped open to level with your own, within that hungry fire that was beginning to demand more of you: a desire you would happily indulge.

Even within that burning, there was still a softness to Bodhi, he was still the same man you grew up with, a comfort you had come to depend on.

He grinned as he watched you, eyes flicking to scan every inch of your face. You shivered as Bodhi dragged a hand across you collar bone, up your neck to cup the line of your jaw. Thumb rubbing into your now swollen lower lip.

He leaned so close once more that you now shared a combined airspace.

"We shouldn't continue" the smirk growing on his lips said more. The growing heat within you was answer enough, rubbing a hand into his jaw, for the thrill of it you shook you head leaning closer still. "We shouldn't"

Tightening your grip at the back of his head, fingers twisting into a strand of hair, Bodhi dipped his head to yours, lips a whisper apart.

"Kiss me again" His voice turned throaty, the blood in you warming at his touch, "Please" the shift in his tone was astonishing.

Giving yourself over, leaning to rejoin him, a coil of tension grew in the core of your chest. You kissed him fully, Pulling Bodhi into you.

Bodhi broke the connection after a second, "Atta girl" he was already smirking by the time he kissed you again.

That coil continued to tighten. This was an irreversible decision, this pairing. It could easily cleave you in two.

But this moment as Bodhi began to lower his kisses flowing down the column of your throat, you couldn't bring yourself to give a flying fuck.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Flu Season.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Mentions of Guns, and Imprisonment.

[I have a fever. Excuse the self-indulgence.]

It should’ve been enough that you’d just been kidnapped.

Dragged into the storage closet of an art gallery you could barely afford to visit, bound and gagged and blindfolded, the barrel of a gun shoved into the notch underneath your diaphragm as a man with slicked-back hair and a woman in a wine-red suit walked you out of an obscured backdoor and into a windowless van, already stocked with haphazardly packaged paintings and sculptures. It was just business as usual, the woman had explained, as if that would make you feel any better. They’d keep you as a hostage until attention died down, sell off the stolen artwork, and drop you off on the outskirts of the nearest city, alive and unharmed. As long as you didn’t put up a fight or get on anyone’s nerves, you’d walk away just fine.

Or, mostly fine, at least. Really, you had to be the unluckiest person in the world.

It wasn’t enough that you’d just been kidnapped by some shady, hyper-violent gang of thieves.

You had to get kidnapped, then come down with a cold.

Or the flu. It might’ve been the flu. You definitely had a fever. You couldn’t take your temperature, but you could feel those tell-tale chills, the splitting headaches, the constant pull of an exhaustion no amount of sleep would’ve been able to sedate. Your throat was raw from coughing, your head pounding and your tongue permanently dry, but you’d resigned yourself to nursing the lukewarm glass of stale water you’d gathered the strength to get for yourself more than a few hours ago. You barely had the energy to stand, but it wasn’t as if you could ask your kidnappers to wait on you. They seemed begrudgingly tolerant of your presence – vaguely amused at best, mildly annoyed at worst. It was safer not to draw any attention to yourself, even if that meant suffering alone for another few days.

Another sudden chill, another knot of ache in the back of your skull. You shuddered, pulling the small pile of blankets and quilts you’d amassed that much closer. The abandoned mansion they’d chosen as their temporary lair was an awful, drafty structure – all rotting wood and dirt-caked windows and thin walls that did nothing to keep out the winter air. You’d holed yourself up in one of the countless decaying bedrooms, but even the surprisingly clean king-sized mattress offered little consolation. That, paired with the holes in the walls, the layer of dust coated over every surface, didn’t make you feel very—

Your bleary thoughts were cut off by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open, of quiet footsteps approaching the spot where you laid. You shot up on reflex, but that immediately proved to be a mistake – a jolt of pure agony racing from the nape of your neck to your temples and settling in the space just behind your eyes. Cursing under your breath, you buried your face in your hands, doing your best to block out the light and soothe the sudden pain, but you didn’t have much time to console yourself. The intruder had already reached your bedside, the plush mattress dipping under their weight as they settled into your space. You spared them a withering glance, but once again, that only seemed to make things worse.

For whatever reason, the thieves’ leader himself – Chrollo, if memory served – had seen fit to pay you a visit.

And just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse.

You stiffened, pressed your back into the dilapidated headboard, did what you could to make yourself look small and unremarkable without giving him the impression that you were meek enough to go down without a fight (despite the fact that, if worst came to worst, you probably would). For what it was worth, he didn’t seem hostile. If anything, the expression written across his face was one of pleasant neutrality – a slight smirk paired with a distant look in his eyes, like he had a million things to do and whatever he’d come to you for barely ranked on his list of concerns. When he noticed you were looking at him, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Rather, he only lifted the hand furthest from you, bringing a nondescript plastic bag into your line of sight and placing it in front of you gingerly, as if he was leaving a hunk of raw meat in front of some exotic beast.

It was only when you failed to react that he started to explain himself. “I heard you were sick.”

Fuck. And you thought you’d managed to fly under his radar.

“I… I think it’s just a cold.” Because colds were safer than flus, easier to recover from and only half as contagious. Because they were less likely to decide you weren’t worth the effort it’d take to keep you around if you just had a cold. “I should be alright in a couple of days, but if you think we’ll need to move before that—”

“Oh, no, it’ll be another week or so before we move on. You'll have plenty of time to recover.” He spoke casually, as if they weren’t wanted fugitives. As if you weren’t a bargaining chip for them to flaunt in front of the police if things went south. He gestured towards the bag, his grin growing just a little wider. “Let me know if I missed something. I tried for variety, but I can make a second trip if you find that your needs haven’t been met.”

Hesitantly, you took up the bag, dragging it into your lap and pulling it open. The contents consisted of what a friend might’ve brought over after you’d missed a morning lecture to a particularly bad hangover. Mineral water, tissues, brand-name painkillers and generic cough medicine. There were a few sporadic add-ons, too – chocolate bars, two bracelets with matching broken clasps and a silver wedding band, a miniature teddy bear that’d clearly been plucked off of a Valentine’s Day clearance rack, but you choose not to linger on those any longer than you had to. Honestly, you were just glad not to find any bullet casings or disembodied extremities. “One of nen’s many silver linings. Once your body surpasses a certain point, illness tends to be more of a peripheral hazard than a daily inconvenience,” he went on, as you rummaged through the bag. “I’m a little out of practice, but hopefully, this will suffice.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about, but you did your best to nod along, only letting a small portion of your confusion shine through. None of this made sense, none of this was anything you’d ever thought to prepare yourself for, but when he finished, you scrambled to respond, as eager to please as he seemed to be to soak in your praise. “Thank you. It’s perfect, I—” The air hitched in your throat, and anything you might’ve said broke down into a violent coughing fit, only somewhat stifled by the back of your hand. He was still staring at you, when you found the strength to look toward him again, still wearing that fucking smile. Something quirked inside of your chest, and you turned away from him sharply. “I appreciate it, I really do, b-but I’m not sure what’s going on, and I don’t want to disrespect the— your—”

“The Phantom Troupe,” he finished. “My Spiders.”

“Right. That. I don't know how to deal with that.” You shook your head, letting out a slight sigh. “I’m sorry, I don’t really keep up with the world of high-class art theft.”

“Oh, we steal all sorts of things. Art, antiques, the occasional organ.” He paused, then seemed to brighten, his tone taking on a kind of childlike eagerness. “A few years ago, a buyer I’m closely acquainted with was interested in amassing a collection of teeth from notable living figures. It was a dull job, but it paid well enough, and my group made the most of it. We're very versatile.”

There was another chill, this time with a source other than your smoldering fever. You wrapped your arms over your chest, shrinking into yourself, but if Chrollo cared about how reflexively you pulled away from him, he didn’t seem to think of it as a mistake that couldn’t be corrected with a breath of a laugh, a slight tap to his knee. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a question, a request, but you considered refusing for one brief, delusional second before ignoring your better judgment and moving towards him – gradually, at first, as slowly as you were able to, until you’d gotten just a little too close and he was able to lash out, to snake an arm around your waist and pull you against his chest. There was a low chuckle, a hand brought to your cheek before it was used to brush the hair away from your face. He held you like that for a long moment – tucked against him, fingers tangled in your hair, his lips ghosting over your forehead – before his grip slackened and his hand fell back to your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. “Poor thing,” he muttered, his voice muffled by your skin. “You’re burning up.”

He let you go as quickly as he’d taken you up, unraveling himself from you and rising to his feet. There was a click of his tongue, a new lilt to his smile, and when he spoke, he did so with a certain lightness – as if he was playing a role he’d spent just a little too long preparing for. “I’ll make tea. Try to get some rest while I’m gone.”

You waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move, didn't look away from you. With no small amount of trepidation, you turned your back to him, lying on your side and drawing the tussled blankets over yourself.  That earned a hum of approval, but you didn’t let yourself so much as breathe until you heard his light footsteps, until the bedroom door groaned closed and you were left alone with only the impending knowledge that you wouldn’t be, for very long.

At least things couldn’t get any worse, right?

[monstrousvoice]

Date Night?

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Female Reader

AN: I had a week long writers block cause of this damn thing, but I hope it turned out well despite the trouble I had writing it. Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed, I was struggling with it

Beta-read by the lovely @irkimatsu! I consider them to be the Husk expert, so their input is very important.

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Sexual Content, No actual smut tho, Angel Dust being a good friend - Hes there for his buddy, As always - Husk is implied to be on the chubbier side

Summary: Sometimes you need a friendly reminder that you're allowed to be happy.

Read on AO3!

“You should head back to your room.”

Your heart seized at the words being spoken to you. Your back was to him, so he wouldn't see the heartbreak on your face. Not that it did any good, one look in your direction and he'd see the way your shoulders tensed, the way you curled in on yourself for comfort he wouldn't give. Not that he would look in your direction anyways. 

Even after the vigorous rounds of sex you went through, even with him sitting right behind you, the bed feels cold. 

“Right.” You manage to choke the word out sounding relatively normal. You don't want to move, you're tired and sore and you just want his warm body to hold you close, to bury yourself in his scent and sound and feel loved in a way you don't think you ever have, especially not since falling into hell.

You try once more to reach across the gap between you. 

“Uhm…Charlie said she's planning a movie night tomorrow? If you wanted to sit…with me-...” Your voice gives an embarrassing crack from nerves as you propose the offer. You know what his answer will be.

“That…sounds tempting doll…” 

But he can't. 

“But I can't.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath even as you sit up. Swallowing the disappointment and hurt welling up in your throat like bile. You don't think there's any room left inside yourself for such pain…

He offers no explanation other than that - he never does - and even knowing he's not paying attention to you, you still nod your head in acceptance. 

“Maybe next time.” He offers, as a pathetic attempt at consoling you. You know there will never be a next time. 

So why do you always ask? 

The answer to that question hurts so bad you feel like you'll collapse into a million shards, never to be put back together again.

You dress yourself in silence, forcing yourself to not look in his direction as you cover the bite marks and forming bruises from the world. Eventually you crack, and peek over your shoulder at him with all the demur bravery of a lamb.

He sits with his back towards you and the door, facing the red wall of his room. A bottle of cheap booze is already in his claws, and he takes a swig of it without acknowledging your existence. Like you didn't even exist if your cunt wasn't squeezing his dick. 

You feel like you're about to vomit.

Clothes on, the area between your thighs feeling sticky and used like a throw away toy, you sneak out of his room and walk back to yours feeling disgusting and weak. 

Husk only looks back after you close his door. 

~~~~~~

“A-and then he just fucking fell over! Dick still out!” Angel cackled, throwing his head back as he laughed at his own story. Husk laughed with him, the pleasant buzz of being drunk making everything funny. He poured the two of them another shot each as Angel continued. 

“Fuck man, it feels so good to laugh. You know that Husky? For fucking years I've been down here-” The spider hiccuped as he grabbed his drink, downing it in one go. “-And I've never been happier than I have been since coming to this tacky ass hotel.” Husk nodded along to his words, letting the spider speak his mind. 

“Like, I actually have fucking friends here! That's insane!” Angel laughed, looking giddy. “I-I actually…like being here…” The smile didn't leave his face, but it did soften a tad, looking more genuine and true. His lower hands were folded on his lap under the bar top, and he was leaning against the wood on one top arm. His free arm was idly playing with his glass, tilting it onto its bottom edge and rolling it in circles. His eyes stayed glued to the last bit of liquid courage inside, swishing side to side as he rocked the glass. 

“It is…pretty nice here. Even if I was forced into it.” Husk conceded. He wasn't even pretending to work anymore, leaning on one arm on top of the bar as he spoke. He felt so calm and sluggish…like he could lay here and sleep for days…

And then Angel spoke again.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure you don't regret meetin’ her, eh?” His tone was light, and the smile he gave Husk was a genuine one. It made the bartender's blood go cold. Immediately he shifted, shoulders stiffening as he closed himself off. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He grumbled out, looking away and scowling. Angel froze, letting his glass fall back onto its bottom with a ‘tink’. He raised a single eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at the cat demon. 

“I'm pretty sure you do whiskers.” Angel leaned forward, genuine concern overtaking his features. “What happen’? You two get in a fight?” Husk growled low in his throat, the fur along his spine bristling.

The image of your face flashed in his mind, looking so fucking sad, all because of him-

“Drop it. It doesn't fuckin’ matter.” He hissed. He felt uncomfortably exposed in this moment, alcohol mixing with his self loathing into a potent concoction of misery, and Angel is still fucking staring-

“Why do you do that?” 

That…was not the question Husk was expecting. 

“What?” He asked, more bewildered by the question than angry.

“You and I are friends now, yeah?” The spider asked, gesturing between them both with a single hand. He didn't wait for Husk to respond before continuing. “We're losers, you said. And so it's okay to do loser things in front of each other cause it doesn't matter. So why ain't you tellin me what's wrong with your girl?” He dropped his hand back onto the bar top, drumming his nails against it as he continued. The alcohol in his system put him in a ranting mood. 

Husk wanted to be offended, to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, but he just…couldn't. As Angel spoke, Husk's ears drooped lower, his tail curling around his legs. 

“We all know you like her, you know. We all see it, and we all hear it, lemme tell ya. So if there's a problem…I'm here to help, or whatever.” Angel rolled his eyes at his own words, hating how corny it sounded but meaning every word. 

Husk sighed, leaning his full weight against the bar. His gut told him this was a terrible idea, but…he did trust Angel. Maybe…he could help? 

“For starters…she's not my girl.” Angel looked genuinely shocked at his words, sitting up straight and furrowing his brows. 

“I didn't take her for a ‘fuck, no attachments’, kinda gal.”

“Cause she ain't. I'm the one who said to keep things…whatever.” He gestured vaguely, unsure how to label what you two are even to himself. Angel's eyes widened in surprise, blinking at Husk like it was the first time he'd ever seen a demon. 

“Well…why the hell did ya go and do that?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Angel trying his damn best to be his friend…maybe it was the way your voice had sounded late last night when he told you to leave his bed…

Husk felt himself crack. 

He hung his head, feeling pain and self loathing flood through him. His next words sounded tired and sad.

“Fuck, cause what else could I do, Anthony?” He took a shuddering breath. “Ask her to be mine and go on to live happy, knowing that someone like her is fucking-...fucking chained to me? A fat alcoholic who's addicted to gambling everything, even his own damn soul, away!?” The bristling of his fur was starting again, his tail swishing angrily at his feet. Even his wings were tense and ready to flare open. Angel - Anthony, simply stared at him, wide eyed but unimpressed. 

“Wasn't there something you told me before…? Hmm let me think,” The spider pretended to think, giving an exaggerated eye roll as he did so. “Oh, yeah! You think that makes you unique?” Husk paused, eyebrows furrowing at his own words being spoken back to him. 

“Everyone has problems down here buddy, you know that as well as I do.” Anthony brought a hand up to pat him on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. “So if someone wants to be near ya despite that…well what's stoppin’ ya?” 

Husk couldn't meet his eyes any longer, lowering himself till he was laying his head on his folded arms on the bar top. His ears drooped as he huffed the saddest, most pitiful sigh of his life - and death. 

“Because she's worth so much more than that. Because the way she smiles is damn near perfect, and she doesn't even seem to hate when I have too much to drink, she goes out of her way to say ‘hi’ to me…Because she makes me feel so damn happy…” He buried his face in his arms, his voice coming out muffled. He hoped it concealed the way his voice cracked with emotion. 

“And that's what terrifies me the most.”

Anthony didn't say anything in response. He moved his hand from Husk's shoulder to his head and neck, idly stroking the soft fur there and finishing his drink. He gave his friend the time needed to compose himself, waiting patiently.

It took a few minutes, but Husk came back to him. The bartender straightened up, carding his claws over his muzzle and back over his ears to link behind his neck. He breathed deep, cracking his neck side to side before letting his hands fall back down as he exhaled. Angel took his hand off him, letting his friend have his space for a moment. 

“Feel better?”

“...A bit, yeah.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Angel took a last sip of his drink, pushing the empty glass back towards Husk.

“I can't tell ya what to do Husky, that's your choice.” The spider shrugged his shoulders, “But I do think you should give it a shot. We're allowed to be happy here.” Husk grabbed the glass, moving on autopilot as he dunked it in the soapy water of the sink to clean. He dried it with a rag as he thought on Angel's words. 

“Just…think on it baby.” And with that the spider demon stood, knocking on the bar counter with knuckles before heading towards the stairs. Husk stayed put, letting his emotions settle in the quiet of the hotel lobby. 

He went through the motions of closing up, emptying the sinks and restocking as he thought. He knows he's a piece a shit, that he's irredeemable at this point…but maybe Angel has a point. 

They were all surrounded by crooks and murderers and assholes, but if you choose to be with him then maybe he should embrace it? Maybe that was the last good thing his stupid ass could do, was make you happy…

Charlie's lessons must be getting to him. 

Even so, he couldn't stop smiling as he went back to his room, thoughts and ideas of how to impress you blooming in his mind like flowers. He could use his old suit, that still fit him…and Charlie no doubt knew a place that grew pretty hellspawn flowers, she seemed the type to like that sort of thing.

Husk finally found sleep late in the night, the resolve to sweep you off your feet boiling his blood and making him dream of color for the first time in decades. 

~~~~~~~

When you got out of bed this morning, you didn't expect anything special. You went about your routine and stepped out of your room, only to hear a ‘crunch’ and feel the shape of something under your feet as you stepped out. With a sense of panic you jumped away, your mind immediately assuming that Nifty was crawling on the hallway floor and you had somehow crushed the small demon under you, despite how ridiculous that seemed. 

Instead, you found…something not alive, thank Lucifer. You tiptoed closer to peer at it, and recognized bright colored paper wrapped snugly around some very crushed flowers. Confused and more than a little curious, you picked them up, noticing a bent up card tucked in-between the stems. You recognized the handwriting. 

Doll,

Got these for you, hope you like em.

I wanna take you out tonight, somewhere nice. I'll stop by your room at 6 to get you. You don't need to go too fancy, just wear something nice but comfortable. 

Husk

You stared…and stared some more. Take you out? Where did this come from? You looked up and down the hallway, half expecting Alastor to pop out and laugh about how he ‘got you’ and your look of confusion was sooo funny. Then laugh even harder when he saw how genuinely hurt you felt over a fake letter from the bartender. 

No such thing happened. 

You continued standing in the empty hallway, looking back and forth for an explanation you wouldn't get. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked back to the card, flipping it this way and that as if you missed some secret note. When nothing changed, you looked at the flowers. They were nice, or at least, they were before you accidentally stepped on them. No other messages attached, though. 

You popped back into your room to lay the items on your dresser. Did you really believe this? Husk has made it clear he didn't…didn't want anything more than a rough night of sex every once in a while. He couldn't have left this for you…

Could he? 

Hope sparked in your chest, so fast-so quick, and you immediately shook your head and tried to squash it down. No. No. You were not doing this. You were not going to get your hopes up that this was anything more than a booty call. He wanted to get dinner or something first? Fine. You could do that and not get attached like a leech to the smallest bit of affection he showed you. 

Should you even go…?

The constant loop you found yourself in with the cat demon…it was taking a toll on you. You could feel it in the way your eyes still stung after crying the night before, the way your chest ached at the thought of him. The sex was good, amazing even, but was it worth the hurt you felt every time you tried to reach for his hand only for Husk to pull away like you burned him? 

You groaned, rubbing your face in frustration. Why did you have to make these things complicated? Why couldn't you just take what he offers you and be happy with that? 

You knew why…

Huffing, you stared at the letter and flowers and made a decision. You would try tonight, and see if you could make this…thing between the two of you work without all the…the emotions and stuff. And if you couldn't, you would stop. Because it wouldn't be fair to you, and it wouldn't be fair to him. 

Just one more try. 

And so you found yourself waiting in your room hours later. You had done as Husk’s letter said, dressed in something nice but comfortable, worrying your bottom lip to dust from nerves. What were you supposed to expect from tonight? A cheap dinner to get you in the mood for sex only to be told to leave in the morning once more? You so desperately wanted more than that…

You jumped at the sound of knocking on your door. Tripping over your own feet, you managed to get the door open and felt surprised by what you saw. Husk stood before you, fur slicked back and neat looking, with a proper casual suit on - no missing shirt. He still wore his suspenders, thumbs hooked into the straps and pulling them as he waited for you. 

His pupils dilated at the sight of you.

“Whoa…You uh-you look nice doll.” Husk smiled at you, and you felt your heart melt a little. You smoothed non-existent wrinkles in your clothes, fiddling with your appearance.

“Thanks…I hope it's not too casual? Or too fancy?” He shook his head ‘no’ at your words. “You look very nice too, Husk. Very handsome…” Your voice trailed off as you spoke, nervous you were overstepping a line by complimenting him back. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. You were biting your bottom lip, bracing yourself for him to reject your kindness and tell you not to get attached to him, like he always did…

Husk swallowed his words, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as his eyes darted to the floor. 

“Right, thanks baby…” He mumbled, feeling embarrassed. By the way you relaxed, looking at him with wide hopeful eyes, he figured he gave the correct response. Shaking off his nerves, Husk moved to a slight bow, gesturing for you to take a step past him and into the hallway. 

“After you, sweet thing.”

~~~~~~~

Dinner was…something. 

It was a tiny hole in the wall joint that Husk brought you to, one with good food and better alcohol. It looked a little nicer than your average bar however, with nice mood lightning and even music. You wondered if the reason it was so nice was because it was on the edge of the city, not far from the Hotel. Less gangs looking to rob a place all the way out here.

When you sat down, immediately your gut started churning with self loathing and fear. What happened now? 

Normally going out with Husk meant him getting absolutely sloshed before flirting with you, asking you to come to bed with him. The words he spoke always managed to make you blush, his baritone voice doing wonders to your body even as you knew he was only interested because of the alcohol coating his breath. 

He never seemed to stay sober in your company long enough to talk seriously. You doubted he even remembered the numerous nights you gave in to his charms. 

Would tonight just be a repeat of that? 

When he ordered a hard whiskey as you settled down into a booth, you feared the worst. 

“So um…why did you want me to come out tonight?” You asked, staring a hole into the table top as you hated yourself for falling for this again. You didn't even notice the waiter putting your drink in front of you. Husk took a sip, a single sip, of his drink before turning to you. At least he wasn't chugging them tonight…

“Well I uh…I wanted to do something for you. Make up for everything else, I guess.” You gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. When he didn't elaborate further, you sighed, curling in on yourself where you sat.

“Right, okay…” Your voice trailed off, the two of you sitting in silence even as others in the bar made a ruckus of noise. Out the corner of your eye you saw Husk open his mouth as if to speak, only to snap his jaw shut and take another sip of whiskey. 

Just as you thought you would go mad from the suffocating tension, your waiter came back. 

“The fuck you guys want?” He asked. He was chewing something (tobacco maybe? smelled like tobacco) obnoxiously loud, looking bored as he started down at you. 

You floundered for a moment, realizing you hadn't even looked at the menu yet to see what you wanted. Panic rose in your chest and squeezed your lungs tight as your brain short circuited on what to say. 

“Uh-”

“Two of the house specials, and make sure to-” You turned to look at Husk with wide eyes as he ordered for you, telling the server exactly what you wanted and didn't want on your food. Your waiter rolled his eyes and scoffed even as he wrote everything down, not noticing the grateful and shocked look you were sending the cat demon.

You couldn't believe it, Husk actually knew what you liked! You had honestly thought he never noticed what you ordered to eat…

“Th-thank you…” You managed to squeak out after the waiter left. Husk smirked at you, eyes hooded and pupils wide as he looked at you. 

“Gotta make sure my baby gets what she wants~” He all but purred at you. He shifted closer to you in the booth, and you jumped in your seat at the soft tickling of his tail against your leg. 

Oh no.

You tried to smile back despite the mix of emotions making your stomach twist. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart, if only he would stop staring at you like that-

“H-how was your day!?” You blurted out, a little louder than you meant to. Husk's eyes went wide just like yours did, taken back by your volume. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, giving a muffled apology. 

“Sorry, sorry…didn't mean to be so loud…” He chuckled in response, a deep sound that vibrated through your body even with the distance between you. Distance he was slowly closing in on.

“S’alright baby girl.” Oh god- “My day was alright. Was making sure I got everything done at the bar in time for this.” He gestured between the two of you, and all you could do in response was nod. What was happening right now!? Husk never acted so bold towards you until he had a few drinks in him - and ‘a few’ is quite a bit before he started to feel the buzz of intoxication. Was he drinking before he picked you up? He didn't seem drunk at the time, but it's the only explanation your fried brain could think of as to why he was acting so…not himself.

Everything today was going against the norm of your relationship. Husk never complimented you like he did today. He never let you compliment him back. He never called you nicknames unless he was in the mood for a night of fucking.

Was that what this all was? Just another attempt to get you in his bed only for him to push you away again come morning? 

Your chest felt tight…you couldn't breathe. He was so close now-

“How ‘bout you? Good day, I hope.” As he spoke, he brought a paw up, laying it over your own hand on the table. 

Oh no.

No, you couldn't do this. Husk never asked about your day. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to end well for you, your gut was urging you to run.

You took in a deep breath to ground yourself, and pulled your hand away from his. You didn't meet his eyes. 

If you had, you would have seen the quiet worry in his gaze. He already missed the warmth of your hand. 

“You don't have to do that.” You whispered.

“Do what?” Husk asked, a feathered eyebrow raising in concern. Why weren't you looking at him…?

“I mean you don't have to pretend to care, or anything. It's not necessary, we both know what this is all for.”

“...What?” The bartender sat up straight, slowly pulling away from your personal space. 

“You know that I like you already, Husk.”

“Yeah…?”

“And…well, after dinner you'll want to go back to the hotel. You'll want to sit at the bar for a little while, have a few more drinks…and I'll sit with you because-” You paused, swallowing hard. Husk didn't say anything, only the sound of his breathing letting you know he was even still sitting with you. 

“You'll ask me to come up to your room again. And I will. You'll have me sit on the bed and we'll talk a little, but after everything you've had to drink you won't remember it…nope.”

“...I remember the things you tell me…” His voice was soft, but you didn't stop talking. You couldn't. 

“I'll stay for the night. And it'll feel…so good to be with you. To have your hands on me, to feel desired and wanted…by you. And I'll convince myself that maybe you really do feel that way for me…that you want me for more than sex. That this time is different…And I'll feel happy.” You took a deep, shuddering breath. Your eyes were fixated on an old stain in the wood. Husk sat in silence next to you, ears perked in your direction.

“A-a-and then…morning comes. And you'll ask me to leave. And I'll try, fuck will I try, to-to…to reach out, in some way. But oh no, you're busy. Can't meet up later, can't spend time together. And I'll go back to my room, my legs s-sore and covered in-” You sniffed, feeling a sting behind your eyes that you refused to give in to. 

“...And I'll lie in bed and slowly die all over again.” 

Silence between you two. Someone at the bar is hauled outside by security. A group of demons a couple tables over cheer and shout over a game they're playing.

You look at Husk, your eyes burning with unshed tears. His own eyes were wide as he stared at you, like it was the first time he was seeing you. Really seeing you. His ears were wilting, laying flat against his head. His wings were closed tight against his back.

You couldn't help but give a disbelieving laugh as you spoke again. 

“I…I don't know why I put myself through this…” you whispered. That was a lie.

Husk felt his blood freeze, his heart crack and break as he looked into your eyes. His hand moved on instinct, moving to cup your cheek. You flinched at his touch, as if you forgot he was really there with you, in this moment. Your eyelashes fluttered as his warm paw settled on your face, your tears finally falling. He used his thumb to wipe them away.

He liked the way your face looked, cradled by his own paws. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered. You didn't respond, simply looking through him with a thousand yard stare. “I'm so sorry baby girl…I shouldn't have done that to you, I never wanted to make you feel so low that…that you think of yourself like this.” 

He feels you swallow beneath his claws. You haven't pulled away, yet, and he can't thank whatever god exists above you both enough for such a small mercy in Hell. 

“I was scared. I'm still scared…” He mumbled, pulling your face closer to his own. His wings wrapped around you both, shielding you from the rest of the bar as he spoke. “I thought…bringing you out tonight would be a step in the right direction. Showing you…how much you mean to me.”

You whimpered at his words, eyes closing as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Despite his surprise, he let you, quickly wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you even closer. He could feel your hot breath on his fur, a little wet from your tears too, but he didn't mind. As long as no one else in the bar saw you like this. A curtain of red feathers made sure that was the case. 

“I do want more baby…I swear I do. I'll take you out to dinner, I'll talk with you and I'll listen, I swear it-! And I'll hold you if you'll let me…I wanna hold you so bad…” Husk pressed a kiss against the back of your head, nuzzling his nose against you. His own voice sounded choked up at this point, and he swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check. 

You nodded against him, gripping his fur tight in each of your hands. You felt overwhelmed, but you were happy despite that. His words felt like a balm on a burn, soothing and pleasant.

Breathing deep to calm yourself down, you slowly pulled away, just enough that you could look him in the eye. A thin ring of molten gold around wide pupils watched you in turn, and you could see the slight fear in him that you would pull away completely. You had no intention of doing so. 

“You r-really, really mean it?” You asked, voice so soft you wondered for a moment if he even heard you. His soft smile said otherwise. 

“Yeah, yeah I really do babydoll. I won't…I won't be great at it, at first-” He cringed at his words, ears going flat. “But I just ask for a chance, a real chance, to show you I can do better. Please.” You're leaning in to press kisses against his muzzle before he's done speaking, your hands carding through the fur of his chest and up to cup around the base of his ears. 

You hear a faint purr under the loud atmosphere of the bar. 

“Okay…” You manage to say in between smooches on white and black fur. Husk simply holds you tighter to him, claws pressing into the muscle of your back and shoulders. 

You stay like that for a moment, holding each other and calming down before you have to face the world again. You wipe your eyes and try to fix Husk's fur, smoothing out the spots you had mussed. You were both smiling. 

“Hey, we don't allow fucking in here, put the wings down or get a room.” The voice of your waiter cut through the tender moment. Like magic, Husk's demeanor changed, his usual grumpy frown back like it had never been missing. He dropped his wings as asked, but gave a scathing glare to your waiter.

“Wern’t fucking, dickhead. Just leave the food and go.” The waiter’s unimpressed gaze flicked between you two. Your flushed face, Husk's still messy fur, the wrinkles in your clothes from holding each other…

“Uh huh, yeah whatever man. Just don't do it.” With an eye roll so dramatic you wondered how his eyes stayed in his skull, your waiter placed your plates with an unceremonious ‘thunk!’ on the table and sauntered away. 

Husk glared after him, and the sight was too much-you laughed. Husk looked back at you with wide eyes, before his own grin took over his face, and he was chuckling along with you. 

“Well, that happened~!” He rumbled. You leaned against him, still giggling to yourself as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “You ready to eat, doll?” His own arm settled over your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. 

“Mhm~” You nodded, pulling your plate closer so you could eat while snuggled against him still. Husk didn't seem to mind, squeezing you tight before digging into his own food. You could feel him rise and fall with his breathing, his stomach pressing against you, soft fur feeling warm against you. 

You didn't talk much, too exhausted after the onslaught of feelings you just sorted through together. The food was fine, the drinks were fine. What made you happy was being held close by Husk, and knowing you could hold him close too, and he wouldn't push you away.

Even after eating, even after flipping off your waiter as he left your table with his tip, even as you walked down the hectic streets of the Pride Ring, you were still holding each other in some way. You needed to feel him against you, to feel his warmth as you made your way back to the Hotel.  When Husk gently tugged you towards his room, you followed. When he pulled you into bed with him, you wrapped around him like a leech, legs and arms tangling with his as you settled down. You drifted off to sleep feeling warm, surrounded by the sound of his purring.

[sereinnu]

Fractured Tides 2

Warnings: STEP-CEST| drugs and alcohol use| Rafe Cameron| very foul language| more yet to come| DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with these themes|MDNI| I already warned you not to read|

Rafe Cameron x Step-sister!Reader

Despite your efforts to make peace, your stepbrother Rafe's hatred for you persists. Each attempt to bridge the gap only seems to widen the divide, leaving you wondering if you'll ever find common ground in this family.

The next morning arrived with an uneasy quiet, the tension from the previous night lingering in the air like a storm cloud. You went through the motions of your morning routine, but your thoughts were consumed by your late-night encounter with Rafe. His words echoed in your mind, the bitterness and pain in them impossible to ignore.

When you finally made your way downstairs, the house was already buzzing with activity. Rose was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, while Wheezie sat at the table, scrolling through her phone. Sarah was nowhere to be seen, likely off with John B, and Ward was in his office, as usual. But Rafe wasn’t around.

You sat down at the table, your mind still elsewhere, when Rose’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You okay, dear?” she asked, her tone pleasant but distant. Rose was always polite, always well-mannered, but there was a disconnect between her and the rest of the family. She played the role of the perfect hostess, but she rarely got involved in the messy, emotional parts of family life.

You forced a smile, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Rose seemed satisfied with your response and went back to preparing breakfast. Wheezie glanced up from her phone, giving you a curious look, but she didn’t say anything. You were grateful for that—Wheezie had a way of picking up on things others missed, but she also knew when to keep her observations to herself.

As you picked at your food, your mind kept drifting back to Rafe. You hadn’t seen him since last night, and part of you was worried about how he was doing. The other part of you knew that worrying about Rafe was like worrying about a ticking time bomb—it was only a matter of time before he exploded, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Just as you were finishing your breakfast, the front door slammed open, and Rafe strode in, his expression stormy. His hair was disheveled, and there was a wild look in his eyes that set your nerves on edge. You could tell right away that something was wrong.

Rose looked up from the stove, her brow furrowing. “Rafe, where have you been?”

“Out,” Rafe muttered, brushing past her without so much as a glance.

“Rafe—” Rose started, but he cut her off.

“Not now, Rose,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make her recoil slightly.

You watched as Rafe stalked through the house, his anger radiating off him in waves. You could tell he was on edge, barely holding it together. It was the same look he had whenever he was spiraling, and you knew from experience that it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

Against your better judgment, you stood up and followed him, your heart pounding in your chest. You found him in the living room, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. When he saw you, he stopped, his eyes narrowing.

“What do you want?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

You hesitated, not sure what to say. The Rafe in front of you was different from the one you had seen last night. This Rafe was volatile, unpredictable, and you knew you had to be careful.

“I just… wanted to check on you,” you said cautiously, keeping your distance.

Rafe let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Why? So you can play the concerned little sister? Don’t waste your time.”

“I’m not wasting my time,” you shot back, feeling a flicker of frustration. “I’m trying to help you, Rafe.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t help me. No one can."

There was a rawness in his voice that made your heart ache, but you didn’t back down. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he turned and punched the wall, his fist connecting with a sickening thud. You flinched, instinctively stepping back as he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond, his body tense and trembling with barely contained rage. You knew he was on the brink, teetering on the edge of a breakdown, and you felt helpless to do anything about it.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch him self-destruct.

Carefully, you stepped closer, your heart pounding in your ears. “Rafe, please. Talk to me.”

He remained silent, his head bowed as he struggled to regain control. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. You had seen him like this before, but it never got easier.

After what felt like an eternity, Rafe finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The admission was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it took you by surprise. You had never heard Rafe speak like that before, had never seen him so raw and exposed. It made your chest tighten with a mix of emotions—sympathy, fear, and a deep, aching sadness.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. He tensed under your touch but didn’t pull away. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Rafe. You’re just… going through something. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

He looked at you then, his eyes full of turmoil. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

You squeezed his arm gently, trying to convey as much reassurance as you could. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually open up to you, might finally let you in. But then, just as quickly as the moment of vulnerability had come, it was gone. Rafe pulled away, his expression hardening once more.

“Don’t bother,” he muttered, turning his back on you. “Just leave me alone.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Rafe—”

“Leave!” he shouted, his voice full of anger and frustration.

You flinched but didn’t argue. You knew pushing him any further would only make things worse. So, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked away, leaving him to his demons.

As you made your way back upstairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled over you. Rafe was slipping further and further away, and you didn’t know how to reach him. But you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going to give up on him, no matter how much he tried to push you away.

-

You stumbled back to your room, the sting of Rafe’s rejection still fresh. Each step up the stairs felt heavier, the weight of his anger pressing down on you. When you finally reached your room, you shut the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a moment to collect yourself.

The silence in your room was thick, amplifying the turmoil inside you. You moved to your bed and sat down heavily, the soft comfort of the space feeling at odds with the chaos in your mind. You needed something to distract yourself, something to ground you. Reaching for your book, you began to read, hoping the repetitive motion of the stories would help calm your thoughts.

Hours passed as you kept reading. Your book almost ended up looking like a sketchpad with all the small doodles at the side.

The quiet was interrupted by a knock on your door. You glanced up, unsure of who it could be. “Come in,” you called out.

Rose entered, her face showing a mixture of concern and detachment. She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on your sketchpad. “I saw you’ve been up here for a while. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, trying to mask your worries. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some time alone.”

Rose nodded, her expression distant. “I understand. But I have to say, Rafe’s behavior is becoming more concerning. He’s been acting out, and honestly, he’s a bit of a loose cannon.”

You looked down, feeling the sting of her words. “I know he’s troubled. It’s just... hard to see him like this.”

Rose’s gaze hardened slightly. “He’s always been unpredictable. Some people just can’t be helped, no matter how much you try. It’s not worth getting too involved. Sometimes it’s best to just keep your distance.”

Her words felt like a cold splash of reality. The kindness and warmth you had hoped for from Rose were absent, replaced by a pragmatic detachment. You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. “I understand. I just want to do what I can to help him.”

Rose’s expression softened, but only a little. “Just be careful. You don’t want to get caught up in his mess. It’s not worth jeopardizing your own peace of mind.”

With that, Rose left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You returned to your drawing, but the soothing effect was diminished. Her words echoed in your mind, making you question your own efforts.

As evening approached, you felt a growing sense of resolve. Despite Rose’s advice, you couldn’t simply walk away from Rafe. You knew his anger and pain were not insurmountable, even if others saw him as beyond help.

You wanted to be there for him, to find a way to reach the part of him that still cared.

You took a deep breath, determined to approach the situation with patience and understanding. Even if Rose thought Rafe was a lost cause, you believed in trying.

For now, you’d focus on being a steady presence, ready to offer support in whatever form he might need, hoping that eventually, he would find his way back.

-

The afternoon sun filtered through the hallway as you made your way to Rafe’s room. Your thoughts were muddled with concern and a growing sense of urgency. You had resolved to speak with him, hoping to address the tension and confusion of the previous night.

You raised your hand and knocked softly on Rafe’s door. “Rafe? Can we talk?”

There was a moment of silence before you heard the sound of movement from inside. The door opened slightly, revealing Rafe’s face, his features a mix of surprise and irritation. His gaze shifted behind him, and you caught a glimpse of the disheveled room. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Rafe was lounging on his bed, his bare torso exposed, and next to him was a naked blonde woman, her hair spread out over the pillow. You froze, your cheeks flushing with a deep red. The room’s disarray and the woman's casual nudity hit you like a wave. Embarrassment surged through you, and a pang of jealousy stabbed at your chest. You didn’t want to compare yourself to her, but it was impossible not to feel overshadowed.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your face burning. “I didn’t realize...”

Before you could say anything more, the door began to close. You instinctively tried to stop it, but the woman shot you an irritated glare. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

You pulled your hand away and took a step back, your heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. “I’ll just...”

The door slammed shut, but just as you turned to leave, it flew open again. Rafe emerged, a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, his hair still damp from whatever had happened. His expression was a storm of annoyance and reluctant embarrassment.

“Agh, fuck” he said, his voice a mix of frustration and urgency.

You turned, facing him with a flushed face and trembling hands. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just trying to talk to you.”

Rafe’s eyes were hard, but there was a flicker of something else—panic. “This is not the time. Can’t you see I’m dealing with...”

Before he could finish, Ellie, the blonde woman, stepped into the hallway, the shirt she was wearing clearly coming from rafe's closet. She glared at you, clearly annoyed. “Ugh, we were in the middle of something..”

Your cheeks reddened even more, and you stumbled over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Rafe cut in sharply, his voice tight with frustration. “Get out.”

Her eyes widened with surprise and a hint of resentment. “What? You can’t just—”

“I said, leave,” Rafe repeated, his tone firmer now, though he tried to keep it calm.

She huffed, shooting one last scathing look in your direction before turning and walking away. “Whatever. You’re such a jerk.”

The sound of her heels fading away left a tense silence in the air. Rafe’s face was a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. He rubbed his temples, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t even get to finish. I was...”

His frustration was palpable, and you could sense that the situation had disrupted more than just his plans. You stood there, feeling a deep pang of humiliation.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I...”

Rafe’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze. “It’s not just about you walking in. It’s... I had other things going on and, and now it’s fucking..”

You looked away, feeling the weight of the situation. “I didn’t realize. I just thought—”

“You know what, it’s fine,” Rafe cut you off, his tone a mixture of irritation and reluctant acceptance. “Just... don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

As you turned to walk away, you felt a heavy weight in your chest. The embarrassment and awkwardness of the situation lingered, but you knew you had to respect his space.

-

You retreated to your room after the encounter with Rafe, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and embarrassment. You tried to shake off the images from earlier, but they lingered, replaying in your head with uncomfortable clarity. Every time you thought about the woman in his bed and Rafe’s annoyed reaction, you felt a pang of jealousy and discomfort.

Hours passed in restless contemplation. When you finally decided to venture downstairs for a late-night snack, you hoped the distraction might ease your mind. You moved cautiously through the house, trying to avoid any further encounters with Rafe.

As you entered the kitchen, you heard footsteps in the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned, half-expecting Rafe to appear. But to your relief, it was Sarah, looking tired but content.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice subdued. “Didn’t expect anyone else to be up.”

“Just needed a break,” you said, trying to sound casual as you grabbed something from the fridge. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sarah nodded, her gaze wandering as she leaned against the counter. “I get that. Things have been pretty crazy lately.”

You engaged in light conversation with Sarah, appreciating the distraction from your earlier encounter. She spoke about her day with John B and the Pogues, offering you some welcome normalcy. The warmth of her presence helped to dull the edge of your discomfort.

After Sarah left to get some rest, you found yourself alone in the kitchen. You finished your snack and began tidying up, the silence of the house pressing in on you. As you turned to leave, you heard a faint creak coming from the direction of the stairs.

Cautiously, you approached the top of the stairs. Rafe’s door was slightly ajar, and you could see him standing in the hallway, dressed in a clean shirt and jeans. His posture was rigid, and his expression was as cold and intimidating as it had been that morning.

You hesitated, torn between wanting to confront him and fearing his reaction. Gathering your courage, you took a step forward. As you did, Rafe’s gaze locked onto you. His eyes, though dark, had a sharp intensity that made you instinctively take a step back.

“What are you doing out of your room?” Rafe’s voice was low, edged with a dangerous undertone.

You swallowed, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. “I— I couldn’t sleep. I was just... looking for something to eat.”

Rafe’s gaze didn’t soften. He took a step closer, his presence imposing and commanding. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

You nodded quickly, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I’m sorry for... interrupting earlier. I didn’t mean to—”

Rafe cut you off with a curt gesture. “Save it. I don’t need apologies. Just stay out of my way.”

His words stung more than you expected, but you tried to keep your composure. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Before you could turn away, Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly. He seemed to be weighing something, his expression cold and unreadable. “It’s not just about staying out of my way. You shouldn’t be around when I’m dealing with... things.”

You felt a pang of hurt and jealousy. Despite Rafe’s attempts to push you away, you couldn’t ignore the twinge of envy you felt when you thought about him with someone else. The woman he’d been with earlier was a stark reminder of how little you seemed to matter to him.

Rafe’s gaze remained fixed on you, his irritation palpable. He didn’t seem interested in making small talk or offering comfort. Instead, he appeared to be impatient, as if your presence was an unwelcome intrusion.

“I’ve got things to deal with,” he said, his tone clipped. “You should head back to your room.”

You nodded, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’ll go.”

As you turned to leave, you heard Rafe mutter something under his breath, but it was too quiet for you to catch. You retreated to your room, feeling the sting of his cold demeanor. The interaction had left you feeling more isolated than ever, but you knew pushing further would only drive him away.

Back in your room, you tried to calm your racing heart. The feelings of jealousy and frustration were unsettling, but you couldn’t let them deter you. Despite Rafe’s harshness and his attempts to shut you out, you knew you couldn’t give up on him. For now, all you could do was hope that, eventually, he might open up and let you in, even if it seemed like an impossible task.

-

The following days were a mixture of unease and routine. You continued to navigate the house with a growing sense of tension, carefully avoiding Rafe while trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. The interactions with him remained sparse and uncomfortable, characterized by his cold indifference and frequent outbursts.

Despite the strained atmosphere, you managed to keep yourself busy with daily chores and your own personal projects. You busied yourself with studies and a few hobbies to keep your mind occupied, trying to ignore the lingering discomfort and unresolved emotions.

One evening, as you sat in the living room working on a sketch, the front door creaked open, and the sound of laughter and loud voices drifted into the house. The Kooks had arrived, bringing with them an air of recklessness and exuberance that contrasted sharply with the oppressive atmosphere of the past few days.

You heard the familiar voices of Topper and his friends mingling with Rafe’s deeper, more commanding tone. It seemed like the gathering was going to be loud and chaotic, a welcome distraction from the tense silence that had settled over the household.

Deciding to make your way downstairs, you hoped the lively atmosphere might lift your spirits. As you approached the living room, you could see the crowd of Kooks and their guests gathered, drinks in hand and music blaring.

Rafe was at the center of it all, his presence commanding the room. He looked more animated than you had seen him in days, though there was still an undercurrent of agitation in his movements. The energy of the party seemed to mask his earlier frustration, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still on edge.

Topper spotted you and came over, a wide grin on his face. “Hey, glad you could make it. We’re just getting started!”

You managed a polite smile, trying to blend in with the crowd. “Thanks, Topper. I thought I’d check it out.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself drifting through the crowd, trying to enjoy the festivities. The music was loud, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of energy and tension. You caught glimpses of Rafe throughout the night, but his attention was consistently fixed on you.

Despite the distractions around him, Rafe’s eyes remained locked on you. He appeared indifferent to the blonde woman who tried to draw his attention, her advances going unnoticed as he followed your every move from across the room. It was both unsettling and oddly comforting, though it only deepened the confusion you felt about your relationship with him.

Eventually, you found yourself near the bar, trying to stay out of the way. Rafe was engaged in conversation with some of his friends, but his gaze never strayed far from you. The weight of his stare was heavy, and it made you acutely aware of your presence in the room.

Just as you were about to turn away, JJ Maybank, a charming Pogues member with a laid-back demeanor, approached you. He had noticed you standing alone and seemed genuinely concerned.

“Hey there,” JJ said with a friendly smile. “You look like you’re having a rough time. Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, surprised by his sudden appearance. “Oh, sure. I’m just trying to find a quiet spot.”

JJ nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, this place can get pretty overwhelming. I just started working as a waiter here, so I know the chaos all too well.”

You laugh, your eyes twinkling as JJ copies you.

He struck up an easy conversation, his humor and genuine interest in your well-being making you feel more at ease. JJ’s respectful and kind demeanor was a welcome contrast to the tense atmosphere and Rafe’s intimidating presence.

As JJ chatted with you, you found yourself relaxing for the first time that evening. His light-hearted jokes and easygoing nature helped distract you from the underlying tension. Despite your initial hesitation, you found yourself enjoying his company and the brief respite from the party’s chaos.

Rafe’s gaze was still fixed on you, though he made no effort to intervene. His attention was unwavering, and the contrast between his cold demeanor and JJ’s warmth only heightened your sense of isolation.

Suddenly, Rafe’s mood shifted. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with a simmering intensity as he watched JJ’s easy conversation with you. Rafe’s irritation was palpable, and it became clear that he was growing increasingly possessive.

As JJ moved closer, making a light-hearted comment, Rafe’s composure snapped. He pushed through the crowd, his movements sharp and deliberate. The cheerful chatter around you faded as Rafe approached with a palpable air of menace.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the noise, cold and commanding. “I think it’s time for you to move along.”

JJ looked up, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere. “Whoa, man. We’re just talking.”

Rafe’s eyes were fixed on JJ, his expression a mix of annoyance and barely concealed rage. “I don’t think you heard me. I don’t want you talking to her.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Rafe’s aggression. “What’s your problem, dude? We’re just chatting. No need to be a jerk.”

The tension between them was immediate and intense. Rafe’s posture was rigid, his body language exuding a dangerous energy. The crowd around them began to take notice, sensing the escalating conflict.

You felt a pang of anxiety, unsure of how to intervene or diffuse the situation. The atmosphere was charged, and you could sense that Rafe’s possessiveness was boiling over.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you said, trying to calm him down. “JJ’s just being friendly.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked to you, momentarily softening before his irritation returned. “Stay out of this. I don’t want you around him.”

JJ stepped between you and Rafe, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. “You’re way out of line, man. She’s allowed to talk to whoever she wants.”

Rafe’s anger erupted. “Not when that ‘whoever’ is someone from the other side of the tracks. You don’t get to decide who she spends her time with.”

The two men were now inches apart, their faces inches from each other. The confrontation was escalating quickly, and the surrounding crowd was growing restless, whispering among themselves.

In a sudden burst of aggression, Rafe shoved JJ, sending him stumbling back. JJ’s eyes widened in shock, and he clenched his fists, clearly ready to retaliate.

“Rafe, stop it!” you cried out, stepping between them in a desperate attempt to break up the fight. “This isn’t the place for this.”

Rafe ignored you, his focus solely on JJ. “You need to leave. Now.”

JJ’s gaze remained steady, though his anger was evident. “Fine. If you’re gonna act like a jerk, I’m outta here. But don’t think this is over.”

With that, JJ pushed past Rafe, making his way through the crowd and out of the house. The tension in the room lingered, and you felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as the immediate threat of violence subsided.

Rafe’s rage seemed to drain away as he turned his attention back to you, his eyes still burning with a fierce possessiveness. The confrontation had left a mark, and you could see the complexity of emotions swirling within him.

“Why did you have to bring him into this?” Rafe’s voice was harsh, his anger now directed at you.

You looked at him, feeling a mix of confusion and hurt. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I was just trying to have a conversation.”

Rafe’s expression remained cold, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or vulnerability. “Well, now you know how it feels when someone intrudes on something that’s not their business.”

The crowd had begun to disperse, the party’s energy now subdued by the conflict. As you stood there, you felt the weight of Rafe’s possessiveness and anger pressing down on you, leaving you with more questions than answers.

The night had ended in chaos, and as you retreated to your room, the events of the evening replayed in your mind. The fight, Rafe’s possessiveness, and the tension between you all left a lingering sense of uncertainty. The lines between protection and control had blurred, and you knew you needed to confront these issues head-on if there was any hope of resolving the growing rift between you and Rafe.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hii,can I request a baldwin one shot ? Where his lady love is pregnant and he is cured from leprosy ? And he wins a tournament for her. You know where would men would get favours from their ladies and fight with a really long stick and the one who falls from the hoarse first losses ? Like in Merlin and House of Dragon . He always shows her off proudly to everyone like the good husband he is. With lots of fluff. I really need some (a lot of) baldwin fluff .He is the only one I've been thinking 24/7 .My man deserved so much better like a significant other and so much love,adoration,etc.😭 Not mfcking Guy or his nonsense . I love your writing so much. When I read your work I feel like I'm living it. By the way congrats for surviving the exams. Sending lots of love <3 💗💗💗.

♡ All For You - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! First of all, I am so sorry that it has taken so long to get to this beautiful request 😭. Second, thank you so much for your kind words, I'm so glad you love my work and thank you for your well-wishes <3 !! I hope this is what you had in mind for the one shot! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: I hate Guy too, Anon 😭

TW: Mentions of Cured Leprosy

It had been six months since the king's disease, that was almost certain to be his end, had been cured by a newly discovered, deep sea plant.

His recovery had been a pleasant surprise to all, but none more than his beloved wife. Y/n was completely overjoyed to have her beautiful husband free of pain for the first time in years.

He himself was in tears with joy the day that he could feel her touch for the first time as sensation returned to his body.

As soon as the last traces of terrible disease had left his body, the king and queen wasted no time in starting a family.

The experience of his illness had taught them both that life was far too short and precious to waste. So not even a month after he was cured, it was announced to the public that the queen of Jerusalem was pregnant with the king's first born.

Since reclaiming his body and health, Baldwin had indulged himself in all kinds of activities, sports, and hobbies that he had missed out on in his years of weakness.

Years of barely being strong enough to get out of bed every day had left him pining for physical activity. One of the sports he had taken great intrest in was jousting.

He had developed a love for the sport since reading about it in a French book when he was younger, but deep down knowing he would never be well enough to play. Until now.

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

“My love! My love! I have something to show you!” Baldwin called, practically tripping over himself as he rushed into the royal chambers.

“Easy darling, don't hurt yourself” y/n said as he approached her with the biggest smile on his once, yet no longer, mottled face. “Look at this!” he held out a flier to her. It was for a jousting competition.

“I am going to enter it, I want to win for you!” he said excitedly, looking at her with anticipation.

Y/n chuckled at his enthusiasm. She could not deny it, he had gotten very good at the sport.

“Are you sure you are up for this darling? I would hate to see you hurt” she replied. Baldwin just smiled, taking her hands in his.

“I am more than strong enough, my love. This is everything I have ever wanted! All I need is your favour” he squeezed her hands to his chest.

Y/n sighed, “very well. Just please, be safe” she told him gently.

Baldwin’s grin widened with joy.

Y/n took a moment to think about the fact that he was still a young man. The mask he used to wear made him look much older than he was, as did his usually calm temperament. But at heart, he was a still young man trying to impress his wife. This warmed her heart greatly.

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

Soon the day of the competition arrived.

For y/n, her anxieties had grown more and more as the day grew closer. But for Baldwin, his excitement had only increased each day.

He was excited to not only participate, but to also finally feel like a man. For years, he had cursed his frail body for not providing the physical protection that his wife so deserved. And now with their baby growing inside her, the need to prove himself as a strong father and husband grew as well.

As much as y/n reassured him that she loved him so much regardless, and that he had nothing to prove, he still wanted to. For her and their baby. 

The king was also looking forward to showing off his beautiful wife to the other contestants. He took every opportunity to present her beauty to the world proudly and this day would be no different. 

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

As the tournament proceeded, each of the men battled until only one remained on their horse, until finally, it was the his turn. Baldwin's competition was won effortlessly and he moved up to the next round again and again until only he and the last man remained.

Y/n had been biting her nails the whole day as she watched from the crowd, and finally it was time. She could not have been more overjoyed when that last man fell from his horse into the mud.

Baldwin was in utter disbelief as the crowd cheered and chanted “long live the king!”. He had really done it.

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

That very night, the queen doted on her husband, congratulating him to the nth degree. They displayed his trophy as a prized possession on the shelf next to their shared bed (this would become one of many prizes he would win for all kind's of sport).

“I am so proud of you sweetheart” y/n whispered to her husband, massaging his tense shoulders as he bathed that night.

She kissed the top of his head and rubbed the back of his neck with her thumbs, earning a tired groan of pleasure.

“Thank you sweetheart” Baldwin murmured in reply.

“I loved winning for you. It was incredible, it just felt so right. Like this was all meant to happen...” he said softly.

“Yes, I believe that it was. Now let's get you into bed before you fall asleep right here” the queen chuckled, noticing his half closed eyes and the words trailing off slightly at the end of his sentence. 

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

The two dressed for sleep and cuddled up against each other in the warm bed.

Baldwin’s hands cupped his wife’s pregnant midsection, laying his head against her chest.

“When I do this, I can hold my entire family in my arms at once. Is that not amazing? Everything I love is right here with me in this exact room” he said to her, his voice sleepy and calm.

Y/n chuckled, at his words.

“I could not be happier than I am at this moment. This is all I have ever wanted, and you have given it to me” Baldwin turned his head up to look into her eyes. “Thank you my love. For everything, truely.”

Y/n could not help but let a single tear roll down her cheek. That was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

“Of course my darling, there is nobody in the whole world I would rather be with at this very moment than you,” she replied pulling him closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You are everything to me Baldwin and you always will be” she kissed the top of his head and ran her fingers through his soft hair.

That was the last thing the king heard before he let his tired body rest. Worn out from the long day of exercise and excitement instead of a terrible disease stealing the life from his body.

Y/n smiled at her husband's peaceful, light snoring that had long since replaced the difficult, struggled breathing that used to keep her awake at night with worry that one day he would fall asleep and never wake again.

Those fears were long since gone and she could now sleep comfortably with the knowledge that all was well and her husband was safe in her arms.

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul x F!Reader] 3013 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions.

A/n: Yeahhhh let’s goooo. We actually see Paul! Requests are open for one shots, imagines, and more. Check out the new request section of my master-list for my character lists!

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Dune masterlist

Five———

[Five days before the ceremony]

As you open your eyes, you feel a sense of deja vu wash over you. Yesterday's events come rushing back, and you can't help but feel a wave of exhaustion and dread.

You sit up slowly, shaking off the lingering remnants of sleep. It takes you a moment to fully orient yourself, but you soon remember where you are and what has happened.

"Is it time already?" you ask, your voice hoarse and dry.

"Yes it is, Lady Jessica instructed I let you sleep in for a few hours. It's early afternoon my lady" Delia says, opening your curtains.

You groan softly, feeling the weight of fatigue settle in your bones. The thought of yet more preparations and appointments fills you with a mixture of anticipation and resignation.

"Very well," you say, sighing. "Let us proceed."

The exhaustion was getting to you.

You follow Delia out of your chambers, your footsteps slow and heavy. You know that the countdown to the wedding has begun, and with each passing day, the pressure and expectations grow heavier.

You wonder who this day's appointments will be with, and what tasks you will have to face. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for what lies ahead.

As you and Delia traverse the hallways you look up in surprise as Paul appears around the corner, his expression serious and intense.

"My lady, may I speak with you? In private?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

Soon you nod, gesturing to a nearby empty chamber.

"Of course, my lord," you say, your voice soft and demure. "We can speak privately here."

You follow Paul into the small, secluded chamber, feeling a thrill of anticipation and nervousness. You have spoken to him before in meetings and at dinner, but never in private. You were acquaintances. What does he want to discuss with you so urgently?

Once the door closes he turns to you, "Are you ok?"

You nod tentatively. "Yes," you say softly, but the tone of your voice betrays the lie. You cannot deny the exhaustion and tension that has built up since your arrival on caladan.

"I am just... worn out from the day's events" you say, knowing full well that such an answer falls well short of the truth.

"You have been asleep all day" he states, catching you in your lie. "My mother told me about the early morning. I apologize for the pain that was caused"

You glance up at him, stunned by his sudden show of concern. You have never seen him express empathy, much less sympathy, towards anyone. There is a genuine warmth to his voice, and you feel a prickle of confusion at his behavior.

"It is not your fault," you say gently, forcing out a smile.

"It is the way of things. And it was necessary to determine if I would be strong enough for what lies ahead."

"Still", he says, his tone softening. "It can't have been pleasant. my apology stands." he pauses for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. Then he continues, "My mothers entire process is barbaric. No one should have to endure such things. I did not expect her to extend her horrors to you"

You nod. "Our lives are not in our hands"

He nods, seeming to understand the truth behind your words. "Perhaps that is the hardest part", he says. "The knowledge that we have no real control over our own lives. That everything we do is predestined, and the path we follow has already been laid out for us."

You feel a sense of companionship wash over you as he speaks. Here is someone who truly understands, someone who gets it. You know who has had this feeling before, and the realization makes your heart ache.

Paul pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say next. Then he continues, his tone softer and more candid than you have ever heard it before.

"I sense the loneliness within you", he says, "the sense of being trapped and isolated, no matter how many people surround you."

Paul's spice tinted eyes meet yours, and for a few breaths, there is an undeniable tension between you. Then he says, barely above a whisper, "I know the darkness that haunts you." Your breath catches in your throat, as if he had reached into your soul and grasped hold of your deepest fears. You want to pull away, to maintain distance and keep your emotions in check.

You have never shared these thoughts, these feelings, with anyone. But in him, you suddenly feel the urge to bare all, to open yourself to him completely.

"i've been dreaming of Arrakis" You Mutter

He smiles at you, a faint spark of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Nightmares, I assume," he says.

There is a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knows all too well what that particular dream means. You notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, and you wonder how much he truly knows of your inner struggles and insecurities.

You nod silently, unable to deny or dismiss the truth of the statement. Even though you had grown used to having nightmares about arrakis, this one had been particularly vivid and unsettling. You can still feel the terror of the desert and the endless sand dunes, the crushing sense of doom and helplessness.

The silence hangs heavy between you, thick and taut with unspoken sentiment.

Paul searches your eyes briefly, and then he speaks, his voice just above a whisper. "Your dreams...they tell me that you are afraid, more afraid than you have let yourself admit. Even here, in this safe space, you cannot let go of the anxiety that haunts you."

You nod, feeling yourself grow flushed as his words strike a nerve. You have worked hard to conceal your fears, to portray a facade of strength and resilience. But here, in front of him, in this moment of intimate connection and understanding, you feel yourself succumbing to his perceptive nature.

"You see too much", you say quietly, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"Perhaps I do", he says, his voice soft and sincere. “The people view us as messiahs." He takes a breath.

"It's all fabrication, and we are bound to it by duty" he sighs

You nod, understanding the weight of the expectations that surround you. "Yes, we are puppets on strings, pulled in different directions by the desires of those who hold power. they seek to use us for their own ends, and we have no choice but to play our part."

Paul pauses, his eyes hardening slightly. "But we cannot allow them to define who we truly are. Inside, beyond this facade of duty and obligation, we are still our own people. we still have our own thoughts and feelings, our own desires and dreams."

"we each have a choice", he continues, "to surrender to

those expectations and allow them to define who we are. or to cling on to our own truth, despite the consequences."

He meets your gaze, and his words carry an intensity and urgency that resonates deep within your soul.

"I promise you," he says, looking into your eyes with a serious conviction, "That whatever choice you make, whatever price you must pay, I will be by your side to shoulder the burden as long as you extend that courtesy to me as well." You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I too have a truth I wish to cling to" he says before wiping a tear from your cheek which you had not noticed fell. “I unfortunately must depart, I have a security meeting for the ceremony" he says.

"Of course", you say, your voice straining with emotion.

"Do what you must. But promise me one thing..."

"What is it?", he asks, his voice still tinged with sympathy and concern.

You take a deep breath, feeling the lingering effect of his touch on your skin. You feel the urge to speak what is in your heart, to lay bare your feelings for him, your desire for him. But you manage to reign in the impulse, and try to maintain a sense of decorum.

"That we will see each other again, before we are made husband and wife", you say, your voice faltering slightly.

He nods softly, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He understands the deep significance of this brief exchange, and the desire behind your request.

"I promise", he says, his gaze intense and sincere. "We will see each other again, and when we do, much will be made clear. Until then, take care of yourself, and remain true to your heart. It’s far from over”

"I must go now," he says, "the ceremony is only five days away, and there is much to be done before then. but rest assured" he adds, his gaze lingering on you. "we will meet again."

The following two days were filled with dress fittings, floral arrangement and decor selection, cake tasting, and many meetings.

———

[Three days before the ceremony]

The entire palace was transformed into a flurry of activity, the servants bustling around and preparing everything for the ceremony. As the bride-to-be, the majority of the preparations fell to you and your family. But unlike many girls approaching their wedding day, you had no expectations or excitement. Instead, your thoughts were consumed by the impending reunion with Paul and the knowledge of the difficult days ahead.

The mornings were typically the only time you had to yourself. You were seated adjacent to your bedroom window, looking out at the sea as you reminisced on your upbringing.

You remember being escorted through the halls of the imperial palace, your eyes drifting past the grand spectacles of art and decor to the various courtiers and officials who moved like pawns across the board.

The emperor's hand gripped yours tightly, his eyes scanning the crowded halls for threats and vulnerabilities. His presence was a shadow cast over your childhood, looming large with power and influence.

You remember the countless hours spent in tedious lessons and tutelage, the endless nights spent studying ancient history and political theory. You remember feeling a deep sense of loneliness and isolation, a sense of being confined within the walls of the imperial palace.

Irulan was easily manipulated. That is what he desired. You were a threat to him.

It was his choice to not have you trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit like your sister. He feared the power you would hold.

You feel a sudden surge of resentment at this thought. He viewed you as a threat to his own power, not a worthy successor.

The emperor never truly understood the depths of your spirit, or your innate drive for greatness. He feared you and sought to destroy you before you could discover your potential.

The resentment grows as you recall all the ways you could have been trained and guided, only to be denied those opportunities. you could have been an even greater asset to the imperial house, but he denied you that chance.

"You cannot stop fate, father" you whisper aloud to yourself.

As you wandered through the halls, being transported from chamber to chamber to meet with various specialists, you felt increasingly overwhelmed and anxious. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, and you started to turn but immediately recognized Paul's firm grasp.

You wheeled around to face him, feeling a rush of relief and excitement as you saw his familiar face. Paul had appeared like a ghost in a forest, seemingly coming out of nowhere. but you were not surprised at his sudden presence, knowing the importance of this reunion.

"Well, the bride finally decides to make her appearance" he says with a faint smile, his gaze raking over your dress and appearance, taking in the details. But there is more than mockery and scorn in his expression, there is something deep and genuine.

You feel the corners of your mouth curve in a smile despite yourself, and you notice the gleam in his eyes.

"I trust they have been spoiling you?" he asks, gesturing to the entourage of servants surrounding you.

You nod, and try not to roll your eyes. "yes, they have been treating me like royalty", you say with a slight hint of mockery. "One might have forgotten that I am the subject of an arranged marriage and will not have much choice in the actual wedding itself."

Paul smirks slightly at your snarky reply, seeming to enjoy your spirited response.

"You know how it goes. it is all for the sake of appearances," he says, his tone tinged with irony. "The bride must be pampered and celebrated, even if she has little desire for the event itself."

"And what of the groom?" You ask

Paul pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement. "The groom may be equally disinterested, but he is expected to go along with the rituals and play his part. The pressure is not so great, but nonetheless a burden of duty must be shouldered."

Paul pauses, his eyes glancing beyond your shoulder, towards the swarm of servants. He gestures to them,

"But they seem quite dedicated to doing their part, so how about you let them continue to spoil you for another moment. And in the meantime, I will show you something"

he takes your arm, his touch warm and reassuring. You are surprised at the gentleness, the sudden shift in his demeanor. you allow him to lead you away from the flurry of activity, following him down a labyrinth of hallways and through several doors.

After a few minutes of walking, you arrive in a spacious office. Paul releases your arm and gestures for you to take a seat. He sits down opposite you, his expression grave and serious.

"This is something that cannot wait until the actual ceremony,” he says. "it is important that we discuss it now."

Paul's manner shifts as his mother enters the room. His expression becomes more formally composed, and he rises to his feet, offering her a slight nod.

Jessica responds in kind, the two offering silent greetings as she moves into the center of the room. You notice a slight softening in her demeanor as her son joins her, as if the two are united in this situation, however difficult it may be.

"You will not be fond of what must be done," Jessica begins

You flinch slightly at her direct statement, prepared for the news that is about to be delivered. But you also trust her wisdom and foresight, hoping that her words will provide some insight or guidance.

You study her face, noting the slight creases around her eyes and mouth, the weariness and stress apparent in her demeanor. She stands in firm control of her emotions, her tone composed and firm.

"Your father is to be charged with the attempted ratification of the Atreides house during his reign as emperor by the Great Houses of the Imperium. As Paul has been foreseen to ascend to take his place they have decided his ploy was an attempt to hoard the throne." She pauses. "He is to be executed shortly after the coronation of you as Empress and Paul as emperor"

The air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs as you feel this bombshell land in your chest.

Your father, charged with treason against the house and facing execution. For all his faults, the emperor was still your father, he shaped your life and protected you from the horrors of court life.

Your vision blurs, and your ears ring with a buzzing sound. You want to reach out to Paul or Jessica, but your limbs feel stiff and numb.

"I know this is difficult", Paul says, his voice soft but steady. "Your father was your father after all. But he had his own agenda, his own aspirations. He never desired for you to succeed him, much less become empress."

"But this changes nothing", paul says, his tone growing firm, conviction in his words despite the tragedy of the situation. "Your father has made his bed, and he must now lie in it. The ceremony will proceed as planned, and we will not allow his actions to stand in the way of our house and our destiny."

You nod, although it is with reluctance and sorrow. but you understand, deep down, that this is the only path forward. Your father may have once loved you in his own way, but he was also a man of ambition and status.

Paul and Jessica exchange a look, their expressions both sympathetic and resolute. Paul releases your hands, moving back to the center of the room.

"We will not let your father's actions deter us from our course. The ceremony will proceed, and you will be crowned as empress of the known universe."

Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb the significance of his words. You are to be the empress of the known universe, but at what cost? Your father, once so feared and powerful, now facing execution at the hands of what once was his Imperium.

You close your eyes, trying to push back against the flood of emotions threatening to sweep you away. You have no say in this matter.

"I understand", you say firmly, though your voice still trembles with grief and shock.

You feel two sets of eyes upon you, observing your response. You sense Paul's firm, almost resolute gaze, his presence a steadying force. Meanwhile, Jessica's eyes are filled with a subtle blend of sympathy and determination.

Her voice breaks the silence, her tone full of both sorrow and resolution. "You will be the greatest empress in the existence of this empire," she declares, the conviction in her voice unwavering. "Your father's legacy will fade as the empire embraces a new future with you. your father will never control you again."

———

Next chapter

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[qveerthe0ry]

Misfire

Summary: Dieter gets waxed for a role and gets a little too excited. Word Count: 966 Pairing: Dieter Bravo x GN! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, dubious consent, body hair waxing, pain kink, humiliation kink (kinda), subby!Dieter, ruined orgasm, coming untouched, hands-free orgasm, reader does not engage in sex acts, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drug use, accidental exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Note: I'm hoping this will be part of a long series of one-shots where I write Dieter as a pathetic little subby, desperate, whimpering mess. As of right now I don't have any big plans for what to write next, but I'm always down for suggestions ;) - Also, I had a hard time with the warnings on this one, don't hesitate to let me know if I missed something that needs tagged.

Dieter Bravo does not feel shame.

His entire schtick is doing whatever the fuck he wants, unapologetically. He hasn’t batted an eye at a tabloid headline in decades. 

But now… Now he feels like a fool. He’s gone and landed himself a really stupid part in a low-budget film about a bunch of old guys on an Olympic diving team. 

Which, first of all, ouch. He knows he has some years under his belt, but he wasn’t ready to be typecast into old guy roles this early on. 

But second of all, ouch again, because he’s gotta get a full body wax for this dud of a movie that’s inevitably going to sink anyway. 

And not ouch in a bad way, per se. But ouch as in he’s kind of really into the sting, and he’s ass naked on this cold table covered in paper, hard as a rock. 

Which was fine when he was turned onto his stomach. He was able to squish his cock in a not-so-pleasant way to stave off the desperation. 

But now you’re telling him to flip over, and he doesn’t want to move. Any other time he’d be dying to get his cock out and swing it around. But you’re just trying to do your job, and here he is, leaking onto your poor little waxing table, soiling it.

With a heaved sigh, he rolls onto his back, clambering all awkward on the small space. You’re turned away from him, preparing the next glob of hot wax, and his cock throbs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, quiet and shameful, and you barely hear him.

“What’s that?”

Dieter can’t say it again. He just grumbles and covers his eyes with his arm as you fiddle with your waxing supplies and glance at him.

“Oh. It’s fine, happens all the time. I’ve seen worse.” 

That at least gets him to huff out a laugh. You sound unbothered, and it eases him a bit. 

“I’d hate to see worse,” he tries to joke.

You just hum in response. 

You start on his chest, though there’s not much to wax there. His armpits are ticklish, which makes him even harder. His cock bobs in the air, angry and red and neglected. He’s afraid to move, he’s afraid to breathe, he’s such a hair trigger. 

He starts thinking about all the directors he hates. He goes down the line, from his earliest project he can remember, and he’s about halfway through when you finally finish his shins and knees but it doesn’t help.

Your hand taps the inside of his thigh, prompting him to spread and bend, and the movement sends his cock lolling onto his stomach. It makes him jolt and suck in a deep breath. He can tell you’re trying to ignore it. He wishes he could. 

And fuck, he hasn’t gotten off in like, a week and a half, caught up between traveling and getting whiskey dick at that party and leaving his Cialis at his friends with benefits’ apartment. 

He jolts every time you wax the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs. And every time he jolts, his cockhead rubs against his now smooth stomach. His dick is drooling. 

When you get to the well groomed, thank you very much hair at the base of his dick, you have to wipe away the obscene amount of pre-cum that’s pooled there. 

“Sorry,” he breathes again. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, swiping the taut skin. 

It tugs on his dick. He whimpers. 

His knuckles are white now, gripping the edge of the table so hard he’s sure there will be permanent nail marks on the pleather. He’s biting his bottom lip, a metallic taste blooms inside his mouth. 

He’s lightheaded, between holding his breath and the fact that all his blood is in his dick, and his vision starts to tunnel a bit. Those tell-tale, fuzzy stars begin dancing around in the edges of his vision but promptly disappear when you grab his dick. 

The sound he makes is pitiful, a pathetic plea to his own body to stop betraying him. 

He chances a look down to see what you’re doing. One of your gloved hands holds his dick with just your thumb and forefinger, as professional as can be, while you spread wax across the wiry hairs just above it. 

He’s on the edge, his cock is jerking and pulsing between your two fingers, and if he can just make it past these next few minutes he can spill into his own hand as soon as you leave the room to let him dress. 

If only. 

You rip the wax from his skin, and it tugs on his cock and it hurts and it feels so fucking good. The pleasure shoots down his spine and he cries out a pathetic little whine. He’s barely able to push your hand away in time, breathing out an apology just as his prick jumps and releases a long, thick rope of cum. 

“I’m so sorry, fuck, s-sorry,” he pants. 

Tears prickle behind his eyeballs as he just keeps coming. There’s so much it’s almost comical, spraying the tender, reddened skin of his chest and belly.  You’re just staring too, completely emotionless, waiting for it to end so you can complete your job. 

Dieter whimpers again, biting his fist as he watches the last of his release dribble down his traitorous cock, then squeezes his eyes shut. A tear slips free, and he lets out a shuddering breath. This is the worst orgasm of his entire life, and that includes all the times he couldn’t help but rub one out with a UTI. 

You clear your throat, and you’re handing him a box of tissues. 

“I’ll let you clean yourself, then I’ll finish up.” 

He hears your impatient sigh as you leave the room.  Apparently Dieter Bravo can feel shame.