#I KEEP TRYING TO MAKE MYSELF DRAW FASTER AND THEN IT TAKES ME 2 HOURS TO FINISH A SINGLE SIMPLE ASS SKETCH

[kraviolis]

i havent quite ironed out lilith & luz yet, but darius & luz...

i think he would have helped her get away from belos if she hadn't done it herself first

[phoenix-art-official]

Ah— ("natural way of spacing", anon, here) i meant that it *looks* very natural! Very pleasing to the eye etc etc ... I'd be even more astonished if you managed to do it effortlessly ... I've been trying to get better at it, personally. And you're right. It does take a lot of work !!

OHHHH OK well then in that case TYSM AAAAA IM GLAD MY ENDLESS NITPICKING PAID OFF!

i actually found the best way for me to conceptualize combined poses was to take some inspiration from comic making! in comics, every page starts as a thumbnail, and the goal of a thumbnail is to be small, non detailed, but easy to read. it helps you "zoom out" and get a better read on the full composition of a page/panel. its how i start all of my sketches at this point. no guiding lines, no focus on anatomy or perspective or accuracy- just form, volume, and readability! theyre also meant to be done quickly- within a minute or two.

heres an example from my latest sketch. this was what i started with. its vague, but it helps me visualize clearly how the lines flow together and lead the eye. you naturally focus first on fords face, then follow his arm to stan.

after that is my proper sketch, paying mind to anatomy, volume, and perspective

notice how i keep it messy! this leaves me room to change things as much as i want, moving or posing things differently depending on what works in the space. thankfully this one didnt need much tweaking!

i generally draw a lot faster than most artists, from what i can tell- i spend maybe 2 or 3 hours on a sketch like this, and then im like, "okay, im done, looks good."

this is just my own process after, like, a decade of teaching myself, so it may not work for everyone, but i find its better to have an ill-fitting guide than none at all. adapt to your own needs!

[theraedar]

how long dose drawing take you?

Omg I am actually…..very embarrassingly slow LOL I get ridiculously hung up on trying to make the tiniest details perfect and I take a long time to even draw something simple 😭 I really do want to work on being more loose and quick, but as slow as I am, I do enjoy my process!

For something even simple like sketches or memey pics, I usually take an hour to a few hours. For full illustrations I usually track 15-20 hrs at LEAST, according to Procreate’s info. It’s because I sketch the basic shapes, then sketch over it again, then if it was really rough I do ANOTHER cleaner sketch on top, THEN line. But then I’ll be like “oh but this line looks off” or “should this be 2 pixels to the left or right”….and oh god once I start coloring and doing effects/bgs….that’s probably what Really gets me bc I’m so indecisive LMAO. I’m out here trying out 10 different variations of everything and testing different opacities of the overlays and constantly switching back and forth until I maybe finally decide an hour later.

I am kinda embarrassed with how slow I am compared to how long I think other artists might spend on a similar piece, but I know everyone works at their own pace and in the end, I’m usually very satisfied with my decisions and how my work comes out, so it’s worth it to me! I only wish I could be faster to be able to draw more often because I have so many ideas I wanna see come to life. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for me to set aside the proper amount of time and/or energy bc I know it always takes a Lot. I also tend to draw in very LONG sittings because it’s a challenge to start things but once I get going, I KEEP going lmao

Some screenshots of examples of my pieces with tracked times under the cut, I’m Really exposin myself haha

Full illustrations

Most of the time in this snack run pic was really eaten up by me trying to decide bg/graphic design. Also the snacks themselves LOL

Ok i was REALLY struggling for this halloween pic lmfao, esp the lantern and the perspective 😭

More simple pieces

What was supposed to be a simple draw-over meme ended up taking me hours 🙈

This one prob took about 1.5 hrs, I had other unrelated doodles before lol I rly can’t do anything under an hour

[kulapti]

Cover construction for The silent isle imbowers, July-Aug 2023.

Finished binding here.

Materials shown: metallic gold and matte black heat transfer vinyl with cricut-cut designs, cricut-cut paper stencil, acrylic paint, bookcloth made of cotton + drawing paper backing + Lineco PVA glue. Calligraphy by quillingwords, flower art and cover construction by me.

————-General tips on how to make smth like this:

Steps in order were (1) have bookcloth, (2) cut and paint stencil, (3) cut and weed both HTV layers, (4) apply black HTV, (5) apply gold HTV, (6) add paint detail with paintbrush over the vinyl, (7) apply bookcloth to cover board.

This is not a beginner-friendly design LOL. Be like me and try most of the steps by themselves on other projects first.

I drew this design knowing how the sections would be layered, and which materials (and therefore colors) would go with each layer. Achieving a similar result with a premade design will likely require editing in a digital art program.

Test how your materials will layer before committing to a complex design. In this case I discovered that the type of bookcloth I made actually helps conceal the adhesive spread under the black HTV.

Layering HTV over small sections of acrylic paint works! Cannot confirm the result if you were to use large painted sections.

PSA This black layer with many very small pointy bits is at the extreme limit of what I think is possible to weed from machine-cut HTV. A different material might work better, and I got a lot faster at weeding the second copy than the first one, but some of this is just a technical limit. The gold section worked great but I would not recommend this for the black.

Layering HTV is much easier to do uniformly with a heat press! Check if your local library or maybe an art class studio has one you can use before doing smth like this with your iron.

Paper stencils are easy to make with the cricut but don’t try to use them for anything with small details. The above example is pushing it despite being very simple shapes. Stick-on stencils are better.

Tiny HTV design tip: designs with jagged sections and very thin lines are hardest to weed successfully. Smooth curves are much easier.

Scale all pieces of a stacked design on the same drawing program and within the same canvas in cricut so they layer precisely.

Cut tiny HTV designs with the washi paper setting on a cricut. I did not find this out myself but I can confirm the results! Using the HTV setting will cause the blade to catch on and pull up small sections of the design while cutting, ruining parts of the design.

—————-Tiny HTV design weeding tips:

For the love of cheese do not try anything this complicated the first time you use a cricut. or the second. you will cry

Seriously consider trying both HTV and cricut stencils before doing anything complicated like this. I wish I had at least attempted the black layer as a stick-on stencil.

This isn't a weeding tip but again you better cut this with a washi setting.

Use a very sharp weeding tool, good lighting, and consider a magnifying glass

Be prepared for this to take several hours, especially if you have never done a tiny piece before.

Important! The cricut does not perfectly cut out designs, leaving very small connected sections around the design at various locations. This is almost unnoticeable on large designs but can ruin tiny designs very easily. Be prepared to hold down the “keep” sections of the design with tweezers or a fingertip while pulling or trimming off some of the “remove” negative space.

Do NOT attempt to pull off all the negative space in a single piece. Either add dividing lines to your design for the machine to cut, or use a sharp tool to scrape them yourself. You are much less likely to accidentally remove part of your design if you weed the design in distinct sections.

[stars4-max]

Reasons why I think I'm certain character from twisted wonderland.... under the cut

tw — talks of starvation, isolation, death, abandonment, underlining stalking, horror, bullying... not talking of these by a lot but there are mentions so heres your warning

Idia, Malleus, Riddle, Rook, Azul

1. Idia Shroud

❝ Hey. ...So, uh, can I go now? ❜❜

— Okay hear me out. Listen. If you knew me personally or even if you don't I think you'd realize just how often I don't leave my room or go outside even if i want to

— I'm relatively always on the internet reading, playing games, drawing, watching YouTube, yknow.

— I don't go to sleep at reasonable times even when I say goodnight and if it weren't for the fact I'm tired 24/7 with no real energy I would NOT be sleeping in for even an hour. ((which happens anyway sometimes))

— I dislike irl interactions (unless I trust u a bunch) and I honestly try to avoid it as much as I can.

— I'm only /open/ to close friends(who I will see as family), my partner, or my cousin and I'd let them enter my space with no consequences

— I forget when I should eat and just avoid it whenever I can/want to because of personal reasons.

— Sometimes I forget to care for my hygiene ((dw I shower everyday when I have the will to stand))

— I put myself down faster than you can blink or I keep calling people names ((none offensive, think like... idk, tree or smth.)) to hype myself up

— I really.. and I mean really.. have a lot of family oriented trauma and if I could I would genuinely make a robotic family of how my family was before to me.

— that's not it but it gets more personal as I go on so erm

— #1

2. Malleus Draconia

❝ You aren't afraid of me. But I'm starting to become afraid...of losing you. ❜❜

— Now. Hear me out. #2

— For some reason, when I would ask my friends of what they first thought of me it was always "I was intimidated" or something of the sort and I would genuinely get so confused while looking like this.

— I don't get invited much to anything or get asked if I wanna join something a lot but theres this one person who makes sure to ask me if I wanna play games or watch videos together a lot like Malleus and Yuu ((PLATONIC YUU FOR ME DAWG. I SEE HER AS MY MOTHER.))

— I get isolated a lot in my family and if I wanna be around people I gotta do it myself (which is hard) and sit there but still be overlooked

— I'm not as in touch with my emotions as I make myself out to be, I'm very much out of them and I'm only really acting as to how I think people would want me to

— I don't understand human customs hel. Like I genuinely get so confused and be in awe when I see things others see like everyday

— I have big issues with abandonment and death when it comes to close friends (I'm talking like 4 year friendship and stuff.) or family I've grown attached to (my cousin), I'd genuinely do anything if it meant they'd stay with me ((vague spoilers lol!?))

— I take what my friends say very seriously if they aren't indicating that they're joking no matter what I sound like. That being said I make jokes unintentionally sometimes when im not even meaning to be funny

3. Riddle Rosehearts

❝ How was that? Do you understand the full extent of my capabilites now? ❜❜

— You don't have to hear me out on this one I'm a little shocked too.

— When I was younger I used to be wayyy too bossy and rude and if anyone even apposed me I would get angry and metaphorical go "off with your head"

— The only reason I woupd be so bossy and rude was because of my family and how they'd bend to my every will and encourage my behavior to others because i was a "golden child"

— especially my mom. She would see my bossy self and go "thats my mini me", looks and her personality

— As I grew older that bossy nature lessened of course but there are times i get angry when others dont have the same thought process like me and don't do something correctly in my eyes

— The only reason I don't let that bossy nature slip by is because of the fact I became my own ace and punched and told myself that I'm not the addition of my mother and I'm not the queen of the world

— of course I'll still follow rules but if they're like... unnecessary I'm not following them at all. Especially if its smth like "u MUST tie ur shoes five times" suck my D-'EYE'-C-K fr. 🐈

— I still have anger issues but I try and not let it slip past either. There was a time I got so angry that I was shaking and I had to be held back from attacking someone ((metaphorical "off with your head"))

4. Rook Hunt

❝ Non... Speak not. At this point, I can hear your inner voice just by gazing into your eyes. ❜❜

— I'm not as shocked by this

— For the other three it's more personal but for rook its in all caps PERSONAL. I see beauty in literally all things even if it truly is the most ugliest thing in space

— I can watch people from afar without getting caught exactly but enough for someone to get restless if I want them to be

— There are times I find information of someone on accident and I will be going deep into it. Like deep into it and then I'll forget it because it's not anything needed at that moment

— People either feel safe talking to me or unsafe and I cannot explain why bc even I dont know.

— I would wear outdoor boots for/with everything if I could and ik it would make people scream in horror.

— talking about horror i would watch detailed horror movies just to say how beautiful it can be and the symbolisms.. etc.

— I can also read characters kinda well??!?! and write them sorta well???!?? idk how to explain it but give me enough time with watching a character and I'll tell you exactly why I think they act the way they do or think the way they do or feel the way they do or how they would react to xyz, etc.

— even when I or my friends dont like someone I don't just base my reaction on that ((like I'm not a fan of neige or vil but if you told me to choose between the two I could not. both of their characters are good and if you wish I can even try to explain how.))

— I had a phase where I would speak in one language for a while ((spanish)) but i forgot what I used to say however half the time it was always me sayinf "i love you" to others i loved

— I called someone my butterfly once i think???? Cant remember who

5. Azul Ashengrotto

❝ What do you think? I have remarkable potential, don't I? ❜❜

— IF YOU KNEW ME IRL SINCE BASICALLY BIRTH YOU'D UNDERSTAND.

— I used to get bullied for a lot of things, my weight, my hair, my skin, my clothes, how i act, my glasses, my grades, how my moods would change drastically, my gender, etc

— So even when I was younger than I am now, I would see if others needed me to do something so I could gain favors or just get blackmail to raise over their heads for them to do smth for ME

— I was a people pleaser and a people eater no in-between.

— Unlike azul I didn't have a floyd or jade with me and it was just me myself and I

— LIKE azul I got a lot of people indebted to me lol.

— I would change myself and how I acted with people irl and on the internet to get literally every favor i could. I would know everything abt someone and they would feel like they HAD to help me with smth bc of that or bc i would show my more pathetic side

— I got so insecure of myself that I would try to take down any pictures i had of myself so that I could be "free" of the embarrassment.

— my family wouldn't help

— unlike azul I would do a lot of things to ensure i was skinny and cute and nice to others perspectives that I'd starve myself... so um.... yeahh.......

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @k-eke

My name is Kévin, but everybody calls me Kéké! I’m a 2D animator and illustrator, mostly drawing little bouncy animals and sharing them on the internet. I like cartoons and storytelling, trying to create stories where people can find themselves in, also trying to go further and develop stories that are rare in media, such as LGBTQ+ content, for example. I try to keep up with my 3DS to create my work and see how far I can go with it!

Below is our full interview with Kévin!

How did you get your start in animation?

I started animation back on September 4th, 2009, this is when I discovered Flipnote Studio on the DSi for the first time. I did try to animate before but solely on paper, and I had no knowledge about the medium at all, so it was an amazing discovery. I later became self-taught and could keep going by myself.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as a creator?

I feel the habit that talks the most to me as a creator is communication. I feel it’s important to communicate with your public and fans to keep them updated and knowing how things are moving. It’s getting overwhelming to me the more I grow because the community is massive. Still, I keep up, and I thank many people for always updating me when something wrong happens (thieves, plagiarism, etc., etc.).

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It all depends on the idea and process of the creation. For example, if my idea is just to animate a cat bouncing, this might take me a few minutes. Otherwise, if I want to animate 50 pigeons bouncing, this will take me around 5 hours or more! In general, an animation takes me less than a day or more if I’m busy on the side and can’t advance as much as I wish I could.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Art blocks often happen. I take them as good to rest and do something else. It’s not a must to draw/animate all the time or too often, and when it happens, I take it easy and try to entertain myself and see when it will be back. Also, I scribble sometimes just to feel like I’m still drawing but not with a point to reach a certain idea, just to let my hand go and make something silly. The mood can come back faster this way!

How do you use Tumblr to further your creativity?

I love Tumblr for the fact you can post 10 illustrations/GIFs as one whole post. This is not possible on other websites I know, so that was great for me to be able to make a compilation of GIFs and post it all there in one shot. It was really helpful and also allowed me to make a few little stories with this opportunity.

What is the hardest part of your process?

The hardest part is drawing on a DSi, 3DS literally! It’s so limited, with few colors (4 or 6 depending on the version), 2 or 3 layers, no zoom, and no options to make camera moves …… but I still love it haha. I’m so used to it that those don’t annoy me anymore, I accepted them, and people admire my art for it (I think!)

Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?

I did. Now I use TVPaint and Flash, toon boom more often, but in the end, I still come back to Flipnote Studio because it’s my favorite tool and program.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many inspire me it would be hard to choose! But I did love Sarah Andersen, Owlturd comics a lot, visually and the humor. Also, the use of Tumblr to post multiple pages at once: it inspired me to try it as well!

Thank you for stopping by, Kévin! Check out more of Kévin’s work over at @k-eke!

[lunaekalenda]

HORROR MOVIE NIGHT! feat. Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli

a/n: I’ll try to update slowly again to adapt myself to publish everyday again! Hellow Hellow :D a little suggestive on kaeya's and also it's a little shitty just put a random prompt generator

Diluc:

As the TV reflected a big, bloody "The End", you searched quickly the remote to turn the Devil's machine off. With a sigh, Diluc left your side on the sofa, getting up on the dark living room, unable to walk due to your fingers jailing his t-shirt.

"What?" he asks, in low tone, looking at you (or so he thinks, you're totally deep in dark). You think twice about telling him, moving your legs on the sofa, making the remote fall and almost give you a heart attack. "You're scared, honey?" he asks, still quiet voice. "Wait, I'll go and turn the light..."

"No" you cut him. "Please, don't leave me alone on the couch. You saw what happened in the film..."

He leans towards the sofa, blindly searching your lips. It might be your connection or his senses to always find you, but he's kissing you softly, making your eyes close and forget anything you've seen the last two hours that could trigger you at night.

"Nothing is gonna happen, dear." he murmurs, lips touching yours as he talks. "I'm with you."

Childe:

He enjoys good horror films, and it makes it more difficult for you to watch them. Even when he insisted that you don't have to watch them if you don't like, you still want to accompany your boyfriend to the cinema to see all the new releases and the most scary ones, the ones with night entry and midnight exit. It's cold when you put a feet outside of the cinema, with Childe sighing by your side.

"It was good, but definitely not something to take away my sleep, don't you think, pretty?" You nod, making an effort to dissimulate the trembling of your legs and your sweaty hands, and trying to repress the impulse of looking around all the time, like an owl. Childe passes his arm around your shoulders, making you quiver in fear for a second. Then, he turns around, face to face, looking at you directly in the eyes.

"Thanks for accompanying me tonight. I know you don't like this films, and still, here you are. I will never thank you enough." his eyes are serious when he speaks, his hand searching yours and his cheeks blushing, maybe for the cold weather, maybe with pure adoration. "Let's go and have dinner in this 80's style place."

Taking his hand happily, you walk by his side, but his malevolent smile makes you suspect. His hand rests on your low back when he murmurs on your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

"Like the one where they killed the couple on the film, hm?"

Even tho he laughed and apologized almost a hundred times after it, now you're at home, lights all on, waiting for your funny boyfriend to finish the dinner he promised you to cook for such a disagreeable joke.

Kaeya:

Him? Scared? How is that even possible?

"You're scared" Kaeya looks offended towards your accusation. Is 2:50 AM when the film finishes and Kaeya turns on the side light. He looks – surreptitiously – to his surroundings before he finds an accusatory finger pointing at him. His cheeks get a little blushed before his usual cocky smile appears again.

"Me? No, babe. Making that accusation only leaves to one answer: You're the one scared." Still, he keeps looks from the side of his eye to the TV, now in pause, with still the fucking "Based on real facts." that is making him feel like throwing up, crying and leaving the country at the same time.

You turn the TV off and head to bed, with Kaeya behind you, turning all the possible lights on on his way. Light is faster than the monster, or that's what he wants to believe. After all, is there something faster than the light? He feels so secure with it, like having always an invisible friend that comes quick to your call.

One of the cats – probably – on the guest room makes a picture fall from the wall. It's an usual noise – this cat has already reached 4 of the 7 drawings hanging on the cream colored walls – but still, Kaeya corrected his theory about light and claimed that the monster was faster.

"Kaeya, come on. We're not that rich to leave every single light on. Go before me and I'll turn them down as I pass, ok?" Kaeya nods twice, trice, he doesn't know how to express the genuine gratitude that that simple phrase has put inside him. Still, he shows his flirty side.

"Going first gives me a little time to undress until you arrive, be ready."

Zhongli:

It doesn't matter if you get easily scared by horror films, because watching one with Zhongli is a whole new experience. Legs tangled and a bowl of popcorn in the middle of you, while your boyfriend keeps talking as the film continues.

"Like damn, I've seen the knife on the kitchen counter 5 times already, and you're fighting with fists because you want to."

"I'll never get why when a door looks like the other ones in horror films they all open them and act surprised when the monster is inside"

"This camera movements make me dizzy."

"Do you want to get pizza for dinner?"

"It's so predictable that the jumpscare is gonna be here, oh, there you see."

Actually, you think it's just the talkative personality of your boyfriend, but Zhongli is always caring that you're comfortable while watching this type of films. You do like watch whatever they're putting on TV on Saturday's with him and, honestly, your body releases the tension and the film looks less scary with every single comment Zhongli makes. That's why at night, both hugged under the covers and his mouth resting on your neck, you talk quietly.

"Thanks for the comic relief during the film. It really makes it a lot less scary."

He kisses your neck soflty, smiling against it.

"It's done, love. I hope they start to put the good films again."

"Oh, no..." Zhongli laughs quietly, getting on top of you.

"One rich girl moves to the countryside and learns to take care of cows, must be my favorite genre."

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin’ In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N–Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 2

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: NSFW (Slightly), Explicit Language Tags: @starflyer-104

Author's Note: Hi I finished this! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Oddly enough, she didn’t make Kyle do anything other than design the first month he was at Wayne Manor. And she was true to her word. He had an entire room to himself, and the room was as big as his whole apartment, bigger if he was honest; and that wasn’t all—he had every instrument an artist could ever want, even some of the newest drawing tablets and pens that hadn’t even come out yet. Limited edition first pick that only someone like her could get her hands on by merely flashing that pretty smile and her last name of “Wayne”. It was a graphic artists dream come alive, and Kyle was afraid that he was going to wake up from it that he never once tried to pinch himself to see if it was a dream or not.

Surprisingly enough though, (Y/N) was being awfully nice to him too. She’d taken him shopping a bunch of times, a whole new wardrobe and even thrown in a new phone and laptop. Of course, Kyle wasn’t a fool and immediately confronted her about using her purchases to hold it over him. That was the one instance in which she wasn’t awfully nice because she sucker-punched him and told him to never call her a manipulator ever again. That she had never once used a purchase to force someone into something—she was a bitch but she wasn’t that kind of bitch.

He even questioned Jason about it once they got back to the manor and his friend cackled at the nice shiner he’d received. (Y/N) doesn’t buy things for people to make them do what she wants. She buys things for people because that’s how she shows she’s fond of them. Honestly, if she buys you what you want, especially if you ask for it, that’s how you know she thinks you’re a friend of hers. Just let her spoil you for a while, Rayner. You’ll miss it when you have to go back to NYC.

Kyle relented then, instead of fighting her on paying for everything, he watched her. Watched her when he asked for something. Just for a split second she’d get a look of honest surprise in her eyes before that smirk crossed her lips and she’d toss it in the basket before picking up her own needs. He found it almost endearing, the way she acted, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask for anything. And Kyle especially liked that look in her eyes. It made his heart beat a little faster when she gazed at him with those big eyes.

And while he did love that look, it only lasted for one month. Hell had come to the manor, and Kyle was smack in the middle of it.

***

“Good morning family!” she greeted cheerfully, placing her hands on Kyle’s shoulders. She received various replies, some happy, some tired, and Kyle gave his own.

“Morning, (Y/N). You seem happy.” He cut into the buttery waffle and started bringing the fork to his mouth when she grabbed his hand and gently but firmly, took the utensil into her mouth. Kyle couldn’t help but go slack jawed as she chewed and swallowed, offering him a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” she purred. “Did you want that?” His mouth opened and closed, and she pushed the plate forward, replacing it with a tall smoothie shaker that was a bright, sickly green.

“Uh…” he started, looking between the shaker and her. “What’s that?”

(Y/N) nodded at it. “That’s your breakfast for this morning.” She flipped the cap open. “It’s got spinach, kale, bananas, vanilla flavored protein powder, pineapple, mint leaves and spirulina.” She grinned. “It’s got all the protein and greens you need for the start of this wonderful day.”

“I don’t even know what spirulina is.” Kyle remarked.

“Blue-green algae super-food.” (Y/N) nodded at it. “From now on you’re going to drink smoothies every morning and then we’re going to weight train and run every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

Her family started snickering around the table and Kyle swallowed thickly daring to ask, “And Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Combat, Rayner.” Handing him the shake, she quipped, “Drink up me hearties.”

“Yo ho.” Kyle whimpered when he sniffed it and gagged.

***

“C’mon weakling,” she nagged. “You’ve barely gotten through the second set. Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

Kyle groaned as he pushed the weighted bar up, holding it for a second before letting it fall. “I told you I can bench press one-hundred. You put one-twenty on this bar,” he griped through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) smirked. “Feel that pain though? It’s weakness leaving your body.” She grabbed the bar with one hand, pulling it up and onto the hold; she grinned as Kyle panted, chest heaving up and down with every sharp intake of breath.

“I—don’t know—how you do this—everyday.” He gasped and she snorted.

“No pain, no gain, Rayner.” She walked around him, and Kyle was too weak to keep his eyes off her as she did. “Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow,” she cooed, throwing a leg over his hips, lowering onto his thighs.

Kyle’s throat tightened and he gazed at her as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on his chest, staring into his eyes. “Pretty close there,” he panted and (Y/N) smiled.

“Closer the better in my opinion.” Her eyes narrowed bemusedly. “From here I can get a good view of your form.” She pulled away. “You’re using your lower back to push strength into your arms. This time, use your chest and shoulders. Deep breath when you push up, breathe out when you lower, okay?”

He nodded, grabbing the bar again. “What set now?”

“Three. Five reps.” (Y/N) pressed a hand to his abdomen. “Core muscles tight. Glutes tight. Keep the stability and use your upper body muscles alright?”

“Got it.” He said, pulling the bar off and she felt his pelvis start to push upwards and she splayed her fingers.

“Chest, Kyle. Not your hips.” He grunted, trying harder, and she put all her weight onto his hips, keeping them pressed down to the bench. It showed in his form as he improved almost instantaneously. “Nice job,” she murmured. “Keep going.”

He got to the fifth rep, starting to go up, when she purred, “Your arms are very strong, Kyle. I wonder just how strong.”

Something in her voice made his heart stutter and he forgot momentarily what he was doing. The bar shifted downwards, and he gasped as it came down at him; (Y/N) reached out, quick as lightning and grabbed it with both hands, standing from his legs to put the bar back.

She looked down at him, concern in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Sorry…lost my grip.” (Y/N) nodded and shimmied away, holding out a hand to him. “Thanks,” he said, letting her pull him up.

“Take five and go get some water, alright?”

He wanted to shake his head, tell her no, that he could keep going, but he thought against it and started for the water fountain in the corner. As he bent over, he happened to look back at her, seeing her bent over, stretching her legs. Heat pooled low in his gut, and he groaned, turning his eyes away.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “Get a grip.”

“Let’s go, Rayner!” she called out behind him. “We’ve got two miles to run!”

Kyle let his head hand and he groaned again.

***

Compared to the day before, getting his ass kicked wasn’t as bad as it had seemed. That being said, (Y/N) wasn’t pulling her punches with him and he hadn’t managed to lay a single hit on her an hour in.

He gasped as she dropped him onto his back and he laid flat, gazing at the ceiling before him; she leaned over him, a cocky smirk on her face. “Need a break?”

“I’m not a novice in hand to hand. I trained with J’onn J’onnz for a while.” He countered with a glare and surprisingly, she nodded, rather impressed.

“I can tell in your form. You counter like he does.” (Y/N) bent down and gently swept away the sweaty hair from his forehead. “You’re learning pretty quick though, if I do say so myself.”

Kyle’s face lit up. “Really? You think—”

“But I can see that it takes you getting your ass handed to you over and over again before the lesson sinks in.”

His face pinched and he griped, “I should’ve seen that coming.”

(Y/N) snorted and patted his head, mocking, “You’re learning.” She smiled. “Now get up. You’ve rested long enough.”

“UGHHH!” he groaned, climbing to his feet.

***

On the third month and final month of the project, Kyle noticed a major improvement in himself. Not only had he lost a few of those extra pounds from snacking, toning all over his body, he’d also managed to expand his stamina a great deal. (Y/N) had congratulated him when he managed to run the various miles without even breaking a sweat.

The designs had come in well too, and Kyle honestly had more money than he knew what to do with. Well, rent and utilities were his most prominent factor, but even then, the money he’d have left over would last him a long time. He almost felt sad when they got to the final week of the project, no longer needing drawings, he was mostly there to make sure the designs were made correctly and with good materials.

(Y/N)’d even given him one of the first sets they produced and even if he was used to seeing his drawings published, it was another thing to see his name on the tag with it. It made him giddy, and he didn’t know how to rope that in with the continued nagging in the back of his brain. That it was all ending in a week. No more breakfast being made, no more laundry done, no more seeing his friends all the time and patrolling with them…and no more (Y/N) constantly.

When he thought about that, Kyle’s chest started to tighten, heart starting to hurt a lot more than he wanted to admit. And he knew why—somewhere along the lines of (Y/N)’s continual ass-kicking and training, he’d fallen in love with her. With her crude attitude and cocky smirks, her proud demeanor and skill, her beauty and the occasional kindness she showed to people, but most importantly, the love she showed for her family.

Most people saw an arrogant bitch who could school people six ways from Sunday both verbally and physically, but what they didn’t see, was the care she paid to those she loved most. To Dick’s anger issues, to Jason’s frequent regrets, to Tim’s consistent depression, to Cassandra’s ever-evolving education, to Damian’s rapid growth, to her father’s hurting soul—she cared so deeply for them, would give anything for them, even her life if it meant. And that made Kyle want to fall at her feet and worship her.

That this beautiful woman who allowed people to talk about her and never cared to correct, was the greatest woman alive, the most loving, the most caring. And she was hard, she was, but her love was tough and those that received it, her siblings and her closest friends, they knew she loved them completely. Kyle knew she cared for him. He only hoped that she wanted more.

***

The production party had been held in France and Kyle had never seen so many elites in one spot that he wasn’t sure how to even drink from his champagne chute correctly. Luckily, (Y/N) had stayed with him all night, tucking herself in his side and covering when he faltered in front of someone who didn’t speak English. And God, there was something very sexy about the way her lips moved when she spoke fluent French.

The party lasted well into the night and by the time they got back to the penthouse, he was dead on his feet. The siblings had dispersed to their rooms and (Y/N) stayed up a bit to speak with Alfred and Bruce over the phone. Kyle lingered around the kitchen with her and when she hung up, she sighed heavily, pulling out the dangling golden earrings and removing the chunky diamond necklace that probably costed more than Kyle did.

Her eyes met his and she smiled tiredly. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” he said happily. “It was…interesting to see what your life is like.” He chuckled. “Well, your day life that is.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and he wandered around the island, daring enough to reach up and grab her shoulders, digging his thumbs into her muscles. She groaned and hung her head a bit.

“Feel good?” he questioned, and she nodded.

“I don’t typically wear heels unless it’s for a party and I remember why.” Sighing, she pulled away from his arms and he just barely managed to keep the sadness from crossing his face as she turned. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Kyle shrugged. “Feel like I could sleep for a few days straight, but isn’t that how we all work?”

(Y/N) snorted, then sighed wistfully. “I almost don’t want this night to end.”

“How come?” he asked, and she met his gaze.

“I like seeing you flounder like a fish in front of socialites.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed, shoving him lightly. “I’m joking.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s been fun having around the manor. I know Dick and Jason have enjoyed hanging out with you.” She smiled and pulled away. “You should come back around after tomorrow.”

(Y/N) bypassed him and started towards her room when he spun and called her. “(Y/N).” she stopped and looked at him, waiting, expecting, and Kyle decided to lay his cards to her, letting her decide. “Spend the night with me.”

For a moment, she was surprised, honest to God surprised, then she smiled sweetly, something he wasn’t really used to, and she murmured, “Come with me.”

And Kyle barely managed to keep himself from tripping over his own feet as he hurried after her.

***

“Shut the door behind you,” she said, and he knew that just from the tone of her voice that she was the one who held the power—not that he cared, all he wanted was her. He felt his heart lurch as the door closed and she motioned him to come behind her. “Mind unzipping me?”

Kyle swallowed thickly as he reached up and grasped the gold zipper, gently tugging it down to where it stopped just above her rear. He also happened to notice that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments and he cursed under his breath. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

She grinned and with one hand undid the buttons behind her neck, then reached back, pulling his hands until his palms were pressed to her bare skin. “Be a dear and slip my dress off for me, hmm?” she leaned back into his hands. “Shouldn’t be too hard now.”

Before Kyle knew what he was doing, his hands were moving underneath the fabric of her dress, around her waist and up her chest, gently grabbing at the flesh of her breasts. (Y/N) gasped, a sound so saccharine in his ears, and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

“Kyle,” she whispered and with his pointer fingers, circled her nipples. Another gasp escaped her as she arched into his touch and she turned her head to the underside of his jaw, sucking the skin at his neck.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, rubbing up against her rear. “Baby...”

She was pushing away from him then, much to his dismay and she spun around, grasping at his suit. “Take your clothes off. All of them. Now.”

All that commanding she was doing was shooting straight to his cock and he obeyed immediately, not even caring about the dress shirt as he ripped it open, the buttons scattering across the carpet. He’d just gotten to his belt when he saw (Y/N) pull down her dress and he almost collapsed on his weak knees when her body came into full view.

For three whole months he’d been slowly driven insane by her tight clothes, guiltily imagining what she looked like underneath during the night, more often than not, relieving the urge.

She smirked and walked up to him, digging her fingers into the top of his pants and turned, pulling him along. They reached the beg and she yanked, sending him backwards onto the bed with a grunt, and then she was climbing atop him.

“I thought you wanted—” he gasped when she grabbed him through his pants. “I thought you wanted me to be naked.”

(Y/N) winked and squeezed him. “I changed my mind.” Leaning close, she let her lips hover above his. “I wanna see how needy I can get you.”

Kyle glared at her and surged forward, sealing her lips in a kiss before he wrapped an arm around her waist, tipping them over. She groaned into their kiss and wrapped her legs around waist. He let his free hand roam her body, caressing her side, squeezing her hip, slipping beneath her leg to grab at the flesh of her thigh. Each grasp, each pinch, each touch had her gasping and Kyle rocked against her, moaning under his breath.

Her fingers busied themselves with his belt and when she got it open, she unbuttoned his pants, and pushed them down a bit. Kyle pulled back to help but the second his hands left her body, he knew he made a mistake because she locked her ankles and placed her hands on his shoulders, shoving back. His back hit the bed and she was on top of him again, this time pinning his hands beside his head.

“Bad boy,” she admonished. “You weren’t supposed to move.”

“Sorry,” he retorted, but he wasn’t. Not in the slightest. “Couldn’t help myself.” He accentuated his point with a deep roll of his hips, and she grip briefly weakened as she ground herself down on him.

“You’re going to help yourself.” She warned, eyes devouring him where he lay. “Every movement is fifteen minutes added to how long I’m going to tease you.”

Kyle grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

(Y/N) matched his grin and before he could even see her move, she had a pillow from the top of the bed placed on his chest, long side up, enough to cover her from sight.

“What are you—” The door opened, and he tipped his head back on the mattress, seeing Dick and Jason gaping at them from the doorway.

For a solid moment, they all stared at one another, too shocked to say a word, then Dick and Jason were letting out the girliest screams Kyle had ever heard them make and they slammed the door shut.

(Y/N) sighed heavily and pressed her face into the pillow. “Lovely. Now we’re going to be all over the group chats.”

Kyle blinked, looking up at her. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She looked at him. “I knew I should’ve booked a penthouse across from this one.” (Y/N) started crawling off him when he reached out and grabbed her hips, keeping her in place; she cocked a brow. “Really? Your mood’s not killed?”

A flash of green appeared in her vision, then the door locked, and he smirked at her. “Nothing can kill my mood for you.” He squeezed her tightly. “Is yours?”

“Not in the slightest.” She reached down and traced the smirk on his lips. “Do me a favor though.”

“Anything,” Kyle agreed, and she grinned wickedly.

“Call me ma’am again.”

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 5: Matching Memories

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here / Chapter 4

Hey guys! Again sorry for the wait! Both my computer and my work schedule have been ass and every time I thought I was going to have free time, I absolutely did not. I was really looking forward to writing this chapter after all the appreciation I got from the last chapter and I am so excited to enduldge you with this 7,356 word chapter. I am also working on a fluffier oneshot that should come out in the next couple days which I am so excited to write! I hope you guys really like this chapter! Love you guys and thank you for 120 Followers!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Chapter Plot: After the previous nights' escapades, you and Spencer decide to talk about boundaries as your team questions your budding relationship

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: smut, mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slapping, Oral Sex (male and female receiving), Handjob, fingering, pleading, spanking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare, language, non-intentional self-harm (hard to explain), PDA, degradation, smut smut smut.

Word Count: 7,356

Spencer loved to match everything but his socks. You found that out the morning after your late-night escapades. You weren't sure if your alarm hadn't gone off or if you two had just slept through it but you two were running late and the plane was leaving in 40 minutes with a 30-minute drive to the airport. The actual thing that had woken you up was Morgan banging on the door, notifying you that he had dropped off Spencers go-bag.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" he shouted as he bumped his elbow on the table, hurriedly trying to get his socks on. You peeked around the door frame of the bathroom, checking on him to make sure he was ok as you shoved your toiletries into your bag. You watched, curiously as he stopped what he was doing and purposefully banged his other elbow on the same table. You made a mental note to ask him about it later, but right now, you had to go.

Along the way, you had noticed small habits that Spencer had to keep himself "matching." Once you saw it once, you couldn't help noticing it. How he brushed his teeth the same number of times on each side of his mouth. How he had to eat at least two peanuts at a time so that he could match the chewing on either side of his mouth. These were all harmless, but you worried when he bumped his right temple on the window of the cab as it went over a pothole, and you watched as he proceeded to turn his head and bump the other side. Most of the morning had been held in comfortable silence as you reveled in the afterglow of the previous night. So when you silently reached up to his head and brought it down to your shoulder, Spencer didn't mind. You made sure to gently rub his temple to apply even pressure to make sure his sides matched, a caring gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Luckily you two had made it to the jet on time, only catching a couple of questioning glances from Morgan and Elle as you rushed on, red-faced. You hurriedly sat next to each other as the plane took off, Spencer shoving both of your go-bags in the upper compartment as you held his book. He had brought Graziella, and had already read it 4 times; you, unfortunately, had brought nothing as it was your first trial case. He sat down, and you handed him his book, his fingers tentatively brushed yours in a silent question. Neither of you had fully discussed your relationship this morning in the rush and you could tell he was nervous to talk to you about it. As he pulled away, you captured his wrist before he could go too far, gently drawing a small heart into the inside of his wrist with your finger as you looked up into his eyes. He smiled slightly, understanding that you would talk about it when you had reached home.

This small gesture hadn't gone unnoticed as Morgan watched you from the other side of the jet. He stocked his way up to you with a shark grin on his lips as he smelled blood in the water. "So, You two woke up late huh? How come you never made it back to our room last night, pretty boy?" He mused, enjoying the light pink tinge resting on Spencer's cheeks. "You were the one who took both of our room keys and wouldn't let me in! And- and she was nice enough to let me sleep in her room even though it was a one-person room." He retorted, knowing Morgan's implications. "Woah, chill, Reid. I was just asking some questions." Morgan replied, feigning innocence. "Yeah, I took Reid's virginity last night. How could you tell?" You stated matter of factly, earning a shocked squeak from Reid, and spluttered out laughter from Morgan. "That's what you want to hear right? C'mon Spencer, he’s just giving us a hard time because he wasn't invited to our movie marathon last night." You lied, shooting a joking wink to Spencer, hoping he would get the drift and go along with the story. "Hey, we didn't- yEAh he wouldn't get the nuance of 'Une Femme est Une Femme' and the directorial skills of Jean-Luc Godard." He said, catching on when you pinched the soft spot under his ribs. Morgan just rolled his eyes, frustrated at not getting what he wanted before sulking back to his seat.

You smiled up at Spencer before saying, "Good boy," just loud enough for only the two of you to hear. It was the first time you had alluded to your escapades that yestereve and you both felt a breath of fresh air as the slight tension was lifted off of your backs. Spencer was flustered in multiple ways; he loved the way you praised him, and he now believed you felt regrets about your exchange.

He felt electricity crackling in every gentle secret touch of yours that he had the luxury of experiencing that day; all he could think about was how you had touched him and how your skin felt on his. You had him wrapped all-around your finger, and he couldn't be happier. All he wanted to do was service you and please you, even in non-sexual ways, which he was happy to indulge in as he watched you staring out the window. Your fingers were discreetly tracing small drawings on his knee cap as you watched the clouds pass by. The motion caused him a great distraction from his book, and all he could do was watch your finger. Even though you weren't paying any attention to the motion of your fingers, Spencer could still envision the lines you created carving into his skin. Sometimes a little face, sometimes an abstract geometric rhombus, and his favorite, a heart with puffy humps and a pointy end. Every time you drew it, he became hyper-aware of the gentle flush coloring your cheeks as you looked out the window, sending him a secret message.

He quietly cleared his throat, as to not disturb the others; most of which had chosen to indulge in a little extra sleep to make up for their early morning. It had broken you from your entranced gaze out the window and you looked over at him smiling. "D-Did you bring anything to do on the plane?" Spencer asked as you continued your drawings on his leg. "Surprisingly, that was the one thing I forgot. I was so worried about making sure I was well briefed on the case that I forgot all about the flight." You said, smiling sleepily. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you were at that moment. The gentle sunrise behind you in the window illuminated the apples of your cheeks and the highlights in your hair, which was still messy from sleeping so soon after your shower. Your eyes were puffy except for the sockets, which were slightly sunken in from lack of sleep, and you were fresh-faced, small blemishes now in the open, but all Spencer could think was that you reminded him of the fresh air of spring in the morning after a storm. He shook himself from his trance as you began to turn back towards the window. "You know, if you would like, I can read to you." He said shyly. "I know you read faster in your head, don't feel like you have to read to me because I was silly and forgot to bring a book." You said, smiling at his gesture. "N-No, I want to read to you. My mom always used to read out loud to me when I was little when she would wake up early." He said, adding waveringly, "And... and I would like to read to you, not because you didn't bring anything, but because I think you would like this book." You smiled up at him, lifting the fingers you had been swirling on his leg to your lips before gently kissing them, pressing them to his cheekbone, and returning them to their reserved spot on his leg. He took that as a green light to read aloud.

You watched as he closed the page he had been reading to flip to the beginning. You knew he remembered what page he was on but his choice to start you from the beginning melted your heart. He really wanted you to appreciate this story so you were going to give 110% of your attention to the words flowing out of his mouth.

"Ok, this book is Graziella by Alphonse de Lamartine. I arrived at Naples on the first of April. A few days later, I was joined by a young man of about my own age, to whom I had attached myself at college with the friendship of a brother." He began as you listened intently, enjoying the gentle atmosphere created by the soft hum of the jet and snores of your colleagues. Spencer continued reading aloud to you on autopilot as he focused on the drawings of your fingers, now all turned to hearts.

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

The problem with taking a morning jet home was that you would have to go straight to the office to finish your paperwork before finally being able to rest in your own bed. You all trudged out of the car and into the office in varying states of awakeness, dreading the hours of work to come.

"Welcome back, you guys!" Garcia said, miscalculating the tone in the room, earning her a couple nods and grunts in response.

"Hey, I'm going to my friend's apartment tonight, and she lives by you. Since you take the train home and I'm going that way, do you want a ride?" You said to Spencer, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. For a Genius and a Profiler, he sure was bad at picking up clues and hints. You weren't really going to see your friend, you just wanted some alone time with him to straighten things out, but he obviously didn't understand. "I mean if it's on the way, that would be nice. Thank you Y/L- Agent Y/L/N." He said, nearly forgetting to call you Agent in front of the others. You smiled and headed back to your seat begrudgingly, seeing the mountains of paperwork.

It was kind of sweet how oblivious he was. You were trying to be discreet at work, and you could tell he was trying too. Keyword: trying, as he was failing miserably. You could tell he was trying to be sneaky, but there was nothing sneaky about him following you to the coffee machine every time you needed a refill. He told you it was because he wanted to match and you couldn't help but indulge him. He wanted to match coffee, unfortunately finding out that you did not, in fact, like as much sugar in your coffee as him. You settled for a little bit too sweet and him not enough for the sake of matching. He came to your desk, trying to trick you by asking to borrow a pen, even though you could see his usual green pen in his shirtfront pocket. He was just so cute and just so obvious so you caved, but it was only because you wanted to see the beam on his face knowing there was yet another way you two could match. His boldest move yet was to match sweaters. If you had yours on, he had his on; when you took yours off, he would follow suit. Even though it was very cute, he was being far too bold so after a while, you decided to just keep it on.

Finally, after hours of handwriting reports and witness statements, your cramped hand said a thank you as you signed off your last sheet. You stretched languidly, looking over to Spencer's desk. He had been done for a while but was pretending to be busy so he could wait for you without subliminally pressuring you to hurry. You pulled your go bag and satchel together, getting ready to leave as you watched Spencer hold his bag, waiting for you to make the first move. You clicked your tongue at him as if you were calling a cat, "Let's get going, I don't want to be late to see my friend!" You called over to him as he shot up, padding quickly to catch up to you. "Goodnight guys! Sleep well!" You called to Morgan, Elle, and Garcia, the only ones left in the bullpen. "Ok, now something definitely has to be going on," Elle said as they watched you two leave, Spencer tripping over himself as he got in the elevator behind you.

You two shoved your bags in the back seat and got in the car. As you turned the car, your music started blaring out of the speakers. "Woah! Sorry! I like to drive with the windows down so my music is usually pretty loud." You said as you slammed on the pause button. Spencer was startled but he didn’t mind as he'd just learned new things about you. 1. You like loud music 2. You like the windows down when you drive. 3. You have great taste in music. "That's ok. Just make sure you turn down the volume sometimes, 17% of adults aged 20–69 years have suffered permanent damage to their hearing from noise-induced hearing loss. And that was... certainly loud enough to cause some noise-induced loss. Make sure to take care of yourself." He said and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. His naive sweetness and caring nature had been gnawing at you all day. All you had wanted to do while you were trying to focus on work was kiss him.

You leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Even though you came in slow, you surprised him. Here you were in the Quantico parking lot, boldly kissing him when any of your coworkers could have seen. "Why-why did you do that?" he asked as you pulled away. "I can't?" you asked, pouting slightly, teasing him. "N-No, You can you can, we're just so out in the open, and we haven't talked about anything, so I didn't know how you felt, and you were ignoring me all day." He rushed out as you let out a little laugh at him. "Let's drive, cutie." You said, turning your music back on, this time to a lower volume, as you pulled out of the parking lot and down the street. "First of all sweetness, I wasn't ignoring you all day, I didn't want Morgan to tease you again. You were busy with paperwork and I knew you didn't need him being an asshole to you to make it worse. Second, did you see all the paperwork they had left? There was no way any of them would have been out in the parking lot yet." You said as you smoothly merged onto the highway towards your house.

You were wondering when he was going to notice that he was going in the opposite direction of his house but he was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You glanced over at him before returning your eyes to the road. You cursed yourself for not having an eidetic memory because you would have kept a snapshot of him like that in your mind forever. His hair, once slicked back, now slightly disheveled from running his hands through it as he did his paperwork and the wind from your open windows. The cool summer wind that rosied his cheeks and the tip of his nose as he gazed out the streetlights overhead. Blue, red, green, purple yellow, white; the blinking lights of the city married the sunset hues that danced across his face. Illuminating his beautifully arched nose and his prominent cheekbones, it felt as if the sun was setting just for him and the city was awakening his beauty.

You smiled to yourself as you switched the cd in the cd player for one of your classics. "Hey! You listen to these guys?! You know I was going to see them last year but then we had this case out of town and I had to miss it. That was when they were still playing at that bar by the Speedway that burnt down." Spencer said excitedly. "Really!? You like them too? I haven't seen them yet but I've been listening to them since college. I never had that much money to be spending on tickets for shows beyond small house shows. I can't believe you like them, I always thought you were more of a Debussy or Chopin person." You replied, excited to have something to share. "Yeah I mean I like pretty much every genre but I've been really into their old stuff lately and, surprisingly, also french 70s music." He said matter-of-factly.

Contrarily, he was fibbing. He knew exactly why he had been listening to it. The previous night he had dreamed of the two of you off the shore, in the south of France in spring, reading books across from each other, legs tangled together, on a chez lounge. Jacqueline Taieb played on the radio as you pulled him up to dance. He removed the thoughts from his mind as he realized his predicament. He didn't know if he was allowed to think about you like that. You had been so sweet and caring towards him last night, and you kissed him so sweetly, but he was still unsure of where you stood. He was still lost in thought as you pulled up to your apartment and parked.

"Hey, this isn't my apartment. Is this your friend's place?" He asked, surprised. "No, Sweetheart. I didn't want Morgan to bother us as we were leaving so I made up some excuse. And this is my apartment. If you want to talk about what happened last night, you can come in. Well, I guess you can come in if you don't want to either, but that's beside the point. If you don't want to talk about it or if you just want me to take you home, I can do that right now. It's up to you baby." You said, gently taking his hand in yours. "I-I want to talk about it." He said shyly. "Alright then, my partner in crime. I will welcome you into my abode. We can order some dinner and talk about it. I'm thinking curry, what about you?" you said.

You could sense his nervousness and tried to lighten the mood even though deep down you were pissing yourself. You had never really done this either. You had a couple of one-night stands and short-term relationships, but nothing that lasted that long, and something in you wanted this time to be different. The young doctor was so endearing, and he was the first person who seemed to be interested in making you happy in the relationship, unlike most of your past suitors. You were terrified that you would push him too far or something would change, and that's why it was so important you had a talk and had trust and communication. You held his hand all the way up the stairs and to your apartment, not letting go when you went to open your door. You told yourself it was to make him feel better but you knew it was because you needed to do something with your hands to get them to stop shaking.

"Sorry, it's not the cleanest space ever. I wasn't expecting guests" you said as you began to tidy up random things around the room, mostly mason jars full of water or a stray empty mug. Spencer took note of his surroundings, drinking everything in. He couldn’t remember what he assumed your apartment would look like because as soon as he entered, he couldn't imagine you living anywhere else. It was all the parts of you that he knew and all of the parts he had yet to learn. He knew that you loved reading, so the bookshelves made sense. He knew that you loved music, so the cd player with piles of CDs next to it made sense. He knew you loved movies, so the VHS player and tv with a built-in DVD player and even more stacks of media made sense. But his favorite part was the giant easel positioned by the window with a large canvas on it. "Wow, Y/N! You paint?" he asked as you continued to clean up. "Oh, don't mind that! Sorry I didn't have time to put it away before we left! I'll get it out of your way!" You said, already carrying a basket full of god knows what in your arms. "No, No! Please leave it out. It's beautiful." He said, looking at your brush strokes. "Suit yourself. Let me know if it gets in your way," you said, finishing your cleaning by fluffing the pillows on your couch.

You finished bustling around your apartment and sat down on your couch across from the TV. He slowly made his way over to you, sitting at the opposite end from you, still unsure of your boundaries. You could spot his nerves from a mile away, so you swung your legs up onto the couch and poked him in his side with your feet. "Why are you sitting so far away, Sweety," you said as he looked over at you. You looked just as you did in his dream, soft and comfy in slouchy clothes. He hadn't noticed that you had changed into some comfy pajama pants and a loose pajama top, and now he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you changed at some point when he was in the room. He knew it was silly. He had already seen you naked, but it all felt like a dream." I'll call and order, and you think about what you want to eat and what you want from me for a bit, ok? I know this great place a couple blocks from here." You said as you pulled out your landline, and dialed the number that you had scrawled on a notepad on your coffee table.

Then, Spencer saw the notepads, notebooks, sticky notes, and other odds and ends that you had all over the house. One on the fridge, one by the easel, one on the tv stand, two on the coffee table. They were all decorated differently for each task, of which he could see two, one titled 'Yummy restaurants' and the other titled 'movies to watch.' He tried to stop his distracting thoughts of how comfortably he fit in your space and how every item embodied you perfectly, all in different ways. When he was finally able to focus, he felt you start absentmindedly kneading your feet on his thigh that was closest to you. He could barely look over at you, finding you unbelievably erotic. He sucked in a breath as your pajama shirt was only buttoned up so much, enticingly drawing his eyes to the swell of your breast that he could see above the collar of your shirt.

You hooked your foot up under his thighs and brought his legs up onto the couch as you continued to order. You tangled your legs together, lifting your right foot to his chest, gently tapping out a rhythm absentmindedly as you talked. You broke through Spencer's entrancement, asking "What do you want to eat?" "Um... Whatever you're getting." He responded, as he still hadn't even begun to look at the menu. "Yeah! Then for the second order, can I get the same thing but make it mild." You said, poking your tongue out at him teasingly before finishing your order.

You two walked to pick up your food, talking about nothing in particular. You didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room until you got back, so you filled the space with meaningless conversation that instantly stopped as you entered the house. It was silent as you got forks ready, spying Spencer sitting rigidly straight on the couch, waiting for you.

"You know, you were so bold in the office today that I didn't expect you to be this shy when we got here. We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to, sweet-" "I do, I really do." He said, cutting you off. "Ok! That's great. Well, I'm going to start off by saying that any relationship like this, whatever you want that to be, depends on strong trust and communication. That goes beyond the bedroom. Being on the team I trust you with my life. I know I'm new so I understand if you don't trust me yet but I just wanted to set that baseline with you. I'm going to be 1000% truthful with you and I'm going to start by saying this. I don't regret anything that we did last night. I loved what we did last night and I really like doing this with you. I want to explore with you if you would be so gracious as to let me. I find you very interesting, and I would like to be friends or more depending on what you want as we continue our rendezvous." You said as you grasped his hands, willing him to look into your eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. "I really liked what we did yesterday too. I was kind of worried that you regretted it or something. I'm really really new to everything, but I feel comfortable exploring if it's you. You made me feel really safe last night and I appreciate that a lot. I find you really beautiful and sexy and intriguing and I would like to be friends and maybe more with you now. I don't know if I'm allowed to say this... but I want to." He said, gaining some confidence. "You are allowed to say whatever you want, baby. That's why we have open communication. Everything is to make sure you are feeling as good and safe as possible," you said, rubbing his hand. " You should feel safe and good too. I know you are more experienced than me, but you deserve to be safe too." He said gently before continuing. "I was wondering if... if I could request that this be monogamous. I get really upset thinking about you with someone else." He said, and you could feel the shaking in his hands as he anticipated your reply. "Of course, sweetheart. I was hoping you would ask. Maybe I'm a little selfish, but I don't like to share my things. They're mine for a reason." You said before planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, earning a smile from him. "But I think, for now, I would like to be friends and see how it goes from there while we... explore," Spencer said. You nod and smile in agreement.

"Alright, so Spencer, tell me what you're interested in, sexually. What do you think about when you jerk off? What did you think about when you read my book?" You asked nonchalantly, as you picked up your curry and rice, taking a bite as if you'd just asked him about the weather. "w-well, I think about a lot of things." He sputtered out. "Just give me a little list I can work off." You said in between bites. "Um, I like seeing you naked. I like it when we match because it feels like we have a deep connection. I like h-how you touched me yesterday. I want you to touch me more." He said shyly, hiding his face behind his cup of water. "And the other two questions?" You prodded, watching as the bulge grew in his pants. "Um, what do I think of when I jerk off? Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this," He blushed before continuing. "I think about how it would feel to have your mouth wrapped around my cock. I think about you calling me a naughty boy. I think about you praising me. I think about your book and how there's so much more that I have to read. I think about you not wearing panties at work. And I think even more about pulling you into the storage closet, lifting up your skirt, and fucking you while everyone is working. I think about your piercings, and I think about your piercing chapter."

"What did you think of that chapter by the way? You ran off to the bathroom pretty quick. What were you thinking of doing to me, naughty boy?" you said, setting your food down on the table, leaning towards him, hands planted on his thighs. "Tell the truth, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," You said, squeezing into his thighs. He bucked up towards you, searching for friction in any way he could." f-fuck. I read the chapter when I was touching myself. I thought about how you had pointed at my boner, and I thought about how I wanted you to make fun of me, and smack me, and punish me for being naughty." he said hurriedly, hoping his answer would satiate you. "Nuh-uh! Come on, tell me the whole truth," you said and smacked his thigh. He yelped as your hand came down, leaving him with a dull sting. "Ok! But it's embarrassing so don't laugh... I thought about you cockwarming me while I pierced your tongue, and how you would drool, and how you would squeeze around me. I thought about how I wanted to mark you and make you mine." He said, covering his eyes, hiding from his shame and how it made his cock stir in his pants. "You naughty, naughty boy, Spencer Reid. I thought you were innocent but here you are with your hand on your cock, at work, thinking about my pussy and my tongue and my spit, and it made you cum. What a rascal!" you said, watching for a reaction in his pants.

You pried his arm from his eyes, so he was forced to look at your smirk. His face and neck were a deep pink, and his lips were as pillowy and soft as a rose petal from biting his them. You couldn't help yourself as you pounced on him. You knew this was supposed to be just a talk about boundaries, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air that had been lingering from the moment you had woken up. He looked so fucked out, even though you hadn’t touched him yet and part of you wanted to absolutely ruin him that night. "Remember your colors, baby. What are you feeling?" You said, now perched in his lap. "Green, green. P-Please touch me." As he said it, you ground down on him. While you were in your comfortable clothes, he was still in his tight corduroys and button-down, sweater long gone somewhere else in the apartment. "Have you ever heard of something called edging?" You asked, and he nodded excitedly. "What about overstimulation?" You said, and he nodded quickly again. "What do you think about them?" He nodded, and you smacked him, not as hard as you would usually go, but enough to leave a sting. "Use your words, naughty boy." You said, capturing his jaw and tilting his face up to meet yours. "Yes, please. I'm so green. I have been wanting you to do this, please." He shot out through squished cheeks, looking at you with the most hungry eyes you have ever seen. His warm hazel eyes, now shiny and black with desire.

You got up off of him, and he whined, missing the warmth of your body on his. You grabbed him by the back of his neck like he was a naughty kitten, and pulled him down the hall and into your bedroom. Before he could take in your room, you pushed him back on the bed. "Strip." You commanded, and your scent overwhelmed him. Your daily aroma that intoxicated him was ten times weaker than the pure pheromones that blanketed your room. Spencer mused that your room must have been built to have sex in. Your bedside tables were adorned with candles, incense, your daily jewelry, and a pair of your panties. You had a red canopy on your four-poster bed that draped your room in a soft red glow.

Your figure was obscured by the canopy as you moved some items around your room. Spencer was lost in your scent, the idea of finally being in your room, and possibly a little lost staring at the panties on your table, making him move too slow for your liking. You parted the fabric and crawled up the bed to him. "Spencer Walter Reid, if you don't strip now, you're going to get a spanking. You have been such a naughty boy today. I thought you were going to be a good boy for mommy but I guess you want to get punished." You said as you slinked back off the bed. "I'm going to count down from 10 and if you aren't naked by the time I reach 0, you are getting spanked. Understood?" You said, and he squeaked out and "Understood!" "10... " Who knew it took so long to unbutton a dress shirt? "9... " Now, his hands were stuck in his sleeves. "8..." Shirt off. "7..." Is his belt broken, or is he shaking too much? "6..." Belt undone but not off. "5..." Pants, ok. "4..." Fuck, his shoes are stuck on. "3... 2... 1... 0. STOP NOW"

You parted the curtain, smirking down at him. "I think I said naked, not underwear on." You said, looking down at him. "You didn't give me enough time!" He whined but you were already flipping him onto your lap with his ass perched in the air. "Color?" You asked, earning his eager response of "Green, so green." You pulled his underwear off and hung it on the corner of your side table, right next to your own panties. The sight was oddly domestic, making him even harder as he tried to rut into your leg. Your hand came down hard on his ass and he bucked into you moaning in shock. "You naughty boy, pathetically rubbing on me. Does my thigh feel good baby?" you asked, and he nodded. Your hand came down hard on his other cheek "How many times do I have to tell you? Use. Your. Words." Punctuating your last three words with three more smacks to his ass, gently rubbing the red skin as he cried out. "Yes, mommy! Your thigh feels so good! Thank you so much!" he said as he ground himself down on you pitifully. "Why is mommy punishing you, sweetheart?" you said, sweetening your tone. " Because I didn't get dressed?" He asked. "Hm, if you were really sorry, you would know what you were sorry for. What are you being punished for? One more chance." You said, smoothing over the plains of his ass. "For being a naughty boy who doesn't listen and rubs his cock on mommy too much." He said. "So close, baby!" You said as you brought down one last smack to his ass as his cock leaked precum all over your legs. "You were getting punished because you don't listen and because you were being really naughty at work, sweetheart. But you took punishment so well, so you deserve a treat." You said as you flipped him over, making sure he was laying in a comfortable place on the bed.

"C-can we match?" He said, pulling on your sweater. You smiled down at him sweetly as you stripped, taking your time to let him gaze over the planes of your body. When you returned, you sat high up on his stomach, making sure he couldn't get any friction against you as you kissed him softly. He was still a little clunky when it came to kissing but when you took it slow, it helped him warm up to your motions until you two were completely in sync.

"Alright, so I'm going to do some new things. Let me know at any time if you aren't comfortable or you want me to stop." You said, and you turned so you were sitting on his chest, looking down at his cock, as he got a wonderful view of your ass and the dimples in your back as your muscles flexed. You collected some spit in your mouth and let it drip down slowly onto the head of his already overly excited cock. He hissed as your finger swirled in the spit that pooled at the base of his cock as you wet your hand before grasping his length. Even though he had felt this exact same thing yesterday, he could never get over the sensation of your hand squeezing around him, circling his cock, and playing with the tip with your thumb. You spit into your other hand and wrapped both hands around his length, working them up and down his shaft, gently twisting and squeezing. The best part was that he couldn’t see anything you were doing. It was like he was blindfolded, stomach muscles tensing in anticipation of your touch.

"Fuck baby I'm close." And that was when you stopped. right as he was about to cum, you squeezed down hard at the base of his cock. "You don't cum until I do." You said, scooting your core back so that it was a couple tantalizing inches away from his face. "Really? You'll let me eat you out? For real?" He asked, mind blown at the idea of eating you out. "I was hoping you would." You replied, waiting for him to make a decision. He hooked your arms around your thighs and pulled you into him so hard, you were worried he broke his nose at first. 'I need a man who eats pussy like it's the only way to quench his thirst' rung out in his head. That's what you had written in your journal titled "Male needs" and he wanted to be a Male that you needed, so that's what he did. He flattened his tongue as he licked a long stripe up your folds, and back down to your clit, latching on hungrily, alternating between sucking hard and twirling his tongue on it. "H-Holy shit Spencer." You moaned, and you knew you wouldn't last long. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you were soaking wet just from teasing and punishing him. That, coupled with how sweet his tongue was on your core, and you were done for. You certainly had never had a man eat you out like this, much less a virgin. "Shit baby, you're so good? How did you get so good?" You asked incredulously, as he reached his hand back around and inserted a finger between your folds, giving his mouth a short break. "I read the literature and from what I saw, the g spot should be about here." He said before curling his fingers inside of you, brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing you to moan deeply. His smirking mouth found its way back to your clit as he added another finger, working your g spot with feverish strokes.

"Fuck, baby! I'm cumming!" You shouted and right as you were reaching your peak, he stopped everything. "What the fuck are you doing!?" You yelped at him, your mounting peak now decrescendoing before ever hitting the climax. "I thought we were matching. You're edging me, I'm edging you." He said innocently, but you could hear his smirk tinging his words. "You just want to be punished huh?" You said and squeezed down on his base as you kissed the tip of his cock. "Naughty boys don't get proper head. When you make me cum, then I'll actually suck your cock. Got it?" You asked as he bucked his hips"Yes." He replied fervently.

This was his first-ever experience getting head, so of course, you were going to give him a good time. He would just have to wait. You held down at the base of his aching cock as you lazily sucked and licked the head. Not even close to the usual effort you would put in, but it was enough to make his legs shake and finger you faster. His mouth was too busy panting and whining to eat you out but you were fine with that because the way he was curling his fingers was creating a knot in your stomach and you could feel your impending release. "Fuck baby I'm cumming. Let me cum this time." You said and he reattached his mouth to your clit, sucking hard as he used all of his willpower to keep himself from cumming. And just like that, you're cumming all down his face and fingers as you shake but he keeps going, this time with more enthusiasm, riding you through your orgasm and overstimulating you. You eagerly take him into your mouth all the way, sucking hard, lathering his length with your spit, and in two seconds he is cumming hard down your throat. "Mommy I'm cumming" He said a little too late as you had already swallowed around him.

You were both so caught in the afterglow that you just kept going. Aftershock spurts of cum kept shooting down your throat but you kept sucking. You wanted him needy and wrecked under you. "Oh my god! ah! AH!" He said, shaking as you keep sucking him down. He keeps finger fucking you as if he is possessed. You are both riding your highs and are so overstimulated that in no more than a minute you are both cumming all over again as sobs wrack your bodies.

You flop down next to Spencer and kiss his cheek tentatively, knowing most men don't kiss after head. Spencer leans up, kissing you passionately, tangling his tongue in yours, tasting your release on each other's tongues. "Flip over baby," You said as he rolled over. You pulled out your lotion from your bedside table, gently warming up a small amount in your hands before spreading it on his butt. "I don't know about you, but I'm way too tired to take a shower tonight. I'm just going to put our leftovers in the fridge and brush my teeth. I have some spare toothbrushes if you would like to borrow one, and some pajamas." You said to a very sleepy Spencer. He didn’t even say anything, he just grumbled and got up, leaning on you.

He helped you clean up, both still naked, enjoying the domesticity of just walking around completely vulnerable together. You needed to brush his teeth for him as he sat on the toilet lid and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a little baby, barely clinging to the little energy it had before a nap. You got him up and back in bed, looking down at his naked form, now noticing the gentle matching bruises on either side of his body. “I know you like to match but take care of yourself. Don’t bang yourself up so much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You said as you picked his clothes off of the floor. You reached down for your pajamas but before you could get them back on or pull him into his, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down on top of him."I’ll try to stop. Only for you, and only because you asked so nicely. Right now, I’m too sleepy, let's sleep naked. Night night." He mumbled into the crook of your neck. Warmth enveloped your body at his words, “only for you.” Somehow that was all it took to finally give in to sleep's welcoming grasp, reveling in the warmth shared between your skin.

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Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here / Chapter 4

And there we go, that's chapter five! Make sure to give me any comments, criticisms, or ways to better the plot. I hope you guys liked this chapter. I tried to balance out the sweet and spicy aspects of this one. I hope you guys have a great night!

Tag List: @spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @spencersmagic @uhuhuh @living-for-romance @aharvey979 @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @marrymespencerrei @crypticcorvidinacottage , @ladydragoneye , @stjoaninthewildwest

[maxkirin]

How to Set a Creative Goal

I'm going to be blunt here: a lot of creative people tend self-sabotage by giving themselves goals that are (1) not healthy and (2) completely unrealistic. I know because that used to be me.

I like to lead by example, so I'm going to give you my easiest, quickest, most successful guide for how to set your goal; regardless of whether you want to write a novel, edit said novel, pick up drawing, or learn an instrument.

1 - A Matter of Time

Ask yourself the following question:

"What is the least amount of time I can spend on this project every day?"

You read that right. Not "the most time" or "what you can spend on average." We're talking LEAST here. What is the least amount of time you can spend every day? Two hours? One hour? Twenty minutes? That's good, and that's enough.

Take it from someone who's been doing this for a while, who's made all the mistakes, and who's had to learn and re-learn this:

Consistency is Power.

The person who consistently works on their passions, every day, will not only grow faster, and finish more things, but also just be happier.

I know our human brain hates to wait; we want things to be ready yesterday, we want to see growth in a matter of minutes, but this is just not how life works. Being impatient only leads to burn out, take it from me. I learned that the (very) hard way.

So, again, ask yourself the question above and consider the LEAST amount of time you can spend on your craft every day.

Got it? Good. This is your goal. Now comes the hard part.

2 - The Making of a Habit

You may think that working on something only 50 minutes a day is not enough to actually get better, but that's actually how I practiced drawing. And you've all seen how far I've come. That's consistency, baby—but that isn't the only benefit of doing something every day!

The more you teach your brain to do something the less friction there is whenever you want to do said thing. It's just science. Writing can seem daunting, scary even, but the only way to change that is by consistently facing the blank page.

It gets easier. It'll never be automatic, you're never going to write a book in one sitting, but it is going to get less hard. Less harrowing. Some days you'll sit down and your allotted time will fly by.

It's wonderful.

That being said, the target is to work on your project everyday—because that'll help you make it into a habit faster—but don't stress out if you miss a day. Life happens. Whatever you do, try to miss as few days as possible. Keep a calendar, post about it on social media, tell people that you're challenging yourself. They'll take you more seriously.

3 - Appreciate Life

Your creative projects shouldn't impede your life, they should be a part of your life. That is why we practice them daily, and we spend a healthy amount of time on them. If 2020 taught me anything, it is that you have to take care of yourself. We are a system, a machine with many components, and when you don't take care of one the whole suffers.

That's why it bears repeating.

The best creative goal is one that you can achieve consistently with ease, every day, so that it can function as a part of your life.

That's the trick right there. I can tell you from experience that I used to think my writing, and my art, where separate to the act of living. I did those things, and then I did the living. And I shouldn't have to tell you, but that was such a mistake.

Spending a little bit of time on your passions every day is good enough.

And if you think it's not, remember that I don't give advice I don't follow myself. So far this year I've written AND edited two novels. All without burning myself, without rushing, and while taking the time to appreciate life.

Take that for what it's worth. 🐰🌻

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 4 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. We gettin spicy now. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Hybern have slipped into the mortal lands, and will any day now be at the wall.

The wall has always been the weak point of Pythian, and the Spring Court holds the south most border. After gathering as much information as he can, Rhys sends word to Tamlin.

The first attempt is a letter, which goes unanswered. Rhys waits for hours, until he cannot wait anymore. The second attempt is to send Mor, but by afternoon she returns. She was not granted an audience with the High Lord.

“Gods fucking damn it,” Rhys roars when she tells him. She doesn’t flinch, just looks worried. “Tamlin you stupid fucking prick,” Rhys mutters. He has started pacing. It is one thing for Hybern to attack another court. It is one thing for Hybern to breach Prythian. It is one thing for war to be on their doorstep.

It is another to endanger Feyre.

“I’ll go myself,” Rhys growls.

“Careful,” Mor says. “If you go in there all hot-headed, you’ll only give him a reason to start a fight.”

Rhys gnashes his teeth in frustration, but eventually nods his acknowledgement. Mor bites her lip, bows her head, then leaves him. Rhys takes a deep breath in through his nose, rolls his shoulders, and then winnows onto the steps of Tamlin’s manor.

It’s been a very long time since he has been on this doorstep.

Once, years ago, his father brought him, wanting him to have experience of a High Lords’ meeting. Rhys had known Tamlin had a daughter, but on that day she was nowhere to be seen. Rhys wonders idly how much of her life Feyre has spent locked in her room.

He strolls through the great doors, not bothering to wait for Tamlin to deny him entry. As he walks, he shoves his hands into his pockets, and listens to the chatter of the minds of the house residents. He does not look for Feyre’s. Doesn’t want the distraction.

Rhys finds Tamlin in the study, and leans against the doorframe.

“Afternoon,” he says in greeting. Tamlin’s face twists at the sight of him.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d grind your bones if you ever came back here?” he says. Rhys just looks at his nails.

“You did,” he said, “but I’m in an altruistic mood, for some reason.”

“What are you jabbering about, boy?” Tamlin snarls. Rhys pushes off the door frame and looks him in the eye.

“Hybern,” he says. Tamlin snorts.

“Not this again.”

“Tamlin. My spies are never wrong. Hybern is moving against Prythian as we speak, and you need to be ready.”

“I don’t take orders from whelps,” Tamlin growls.

“Fine,” Rhys says cooly. “Do what you want. I only thought you’d be interested in the preservation of your own lands, or your people, or your daughter for that matter. I shouldn’t be so presumptuous.” Tamlin growls again, but Rhys looks bored.

“You dare speak of her,” he begins.

“Calm down old man,” Rhys says. “I just wanted to come here in person, so that I could be assured that when Hybern attacks and the Spring Court falls, you knew it was happening and you let it.”

“What do you care?” Tamlin spits. “You only rule a savage court, you’ve never spared a thought for another in all your life.”

“Yes,” Rhys says simply. “And if we’re worried, so probably should you be.”

“Leave. Now.” Tamlin pounds the desk as he speaks. Rhys just shrugs.

“As you wish.” He sketches a bow from the waist, and exits the room.

But he doesn’t walk out of the manor.

Rhys folds himself into the shadows, and climbs the grand staircase without anyone noticing him. Feyre’s bedroom door is locked, of course, but he he shimmers through the wood without much effort.

“I know I should have knocked,” he says, “but I’m not looking I swear.”

“Rhys!”

“Can I come in?”

Feyre laughs, soft as eiderdown, and pulls his hands from his eyes.

“Yes,” she says. “Thank you for asking.”

“I would have asked from outside,” Rhys tells her, drawing her into his arms, “but that would have ruined the whole sneaking around thing I’ve got going here.”

Feyre stands up on her toes to kiss him. Rhys sighs over her lips, and the taste of her soothes his soul.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Rhys chuckles.

“I’m not the one being kept prisoner in my own bedroom.”

“You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept the last couple of days.”

Feyre touches his cheek and he leans into her palm. “Well come lie down then,” she says, and turns toward the bed by Rhys stops her.

“Feyre,” he says. “I have to tell you something. It’s important.”

Feyre’s eyes darken with concern, but she tugs him forward and he gets on the bed with her. They lie on their sides facing each other, and Feyre touches his chin.

“What is it?” she asks. Rhys folds her fingers into his.

“For a long time now, Hybern has been looking to expand its territory,” he tells her. “I have reason to believe- I am sure, they are now gathering in the mortal lands, and plan to attack Prythian from the south.”

“The south… is us,” Feyre says, eyes widening in understanding.

“Yes,” Rhys says. “I have tried to tell Tamlin but he won’t listen. I’m starting to think that if I told him the sky was blue he’d disagree, just because it was me saying it.”

“That’s probably true,” Feyre admitted. “So… what do we do?” Rhys lifted their entwined hands and kissed her fingers.

“I want you to know that I won’t let anything happen to you. The Night Court is ready and willing to send aid. Tamlin won’t hear me. Could you try to convince him to let us help?”

Feyre exhaled heavily. “Well, he doesn’t listen to me either. But of course, I’ll talk to him.”

Rhys kisses her knuckles again, on both hands. “Thank you,” he says.

“Rhys? What if doesn’t agree to it? What if he doesn’t listen?”

Rhys slides a hand under her hair, and his thumb strokes her jaw. “We’ll come anyway,” he says. “And I am finally going to get you out of here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Feyre says, and her voice is small with worry. Rhys kisses her until the tension slides from her shoulders.

“Rhys?” she says.

“Yeah honey?”

“I love you too.”

Rhys quirks a smile, and kisses both her cheeks and then her nose.

“I love you too, too.” He kisses her mouth then, and she wriggles closer to him. Rhys slides an arm under her and rubs his fingertips against the is of her skull.

It is so easy to forget wars and jailers when Feyre is touching him.

Feyre’s bare feet press into his ankles, and Rhys slides a hand down the outside of her thigh. The silk is cool beneath his fingers, and there’s a split in the fabric just above her knee. He catches her calf and hitches it over his hip as he keeps kissing her, and she squeezes him closer with her leg while his hand strokes her ankle.

“Are there flowers in the Night Court?” Feyre murmurs between kisses. Rhys smiles against her lips.

“Yes,” he says. “And the most wonderful fruits.”

Feyre’s hands are sliding up his chest now, fumbling with the fastenings in his shirt. She nips his bottom lip, and he licks the back of her teeth.

“Don’t they need sunlight to grow?”

Rhys laughs. “Feyre darling, we have just as much sunlight as you do.” His hand on her ankle has slid back up her calf, and is now curving around the underside of her thigh above her knee. The cream coloured dress is pushed further up her legs.

“But it’s always Spring here,” she says. She’s found the hem of his shirt and her hands have slipped beneath it. They are warm on his stomach.

“Well it’s not always night in the Night Court,” he assures her, and moves his lips to her throat. Feyre tips her head back to give him better access.

“Why?” she gasps.

“Because,” Rhys murmurs, trailing kisses down her neck, “things need to grow. And we need the warmth.” His hand on her leg is moving again, and cups her backside now. “And because no amount of power in the world stops the sun from rising.”

He kisses her mouth before she can ask any follow up questions, and the taste of her moan is so sweet it makes his head spin.

Rhys presses Feyre onto her back, and his hand on her ass slides around to her hip. His other arm is still behind her, and he massages his fingers in the back of her head. Feyre tugs at his hair, and he pushes her skirts further up so he can stroke her from knee to hip. Feyre shivers under his touch as his thumb skirts her inner thigh.

“Touch me,” she whispers, and Rhys’s hand tightens on her thigh before it dips between her legs.

Feyre’s hands fall from his neck and grab a hold of the sheets. Rhys watches her eyes flutter closed as he moves his fingers again, lightly over the cotton of her underwear. He slips beneath the waistband, and Feyre’s back arches up off the bed. He bites down on his own moan- Feyre is so wet on his fingers.

“Gods Feyre,” he breathes. He slides his hand down over her pussy before circling lightly against her clit. Feyre bites down on her lip and makes sure to stay quiet. Rhys thinks he’s never been so turned on as he is as he watches her writhe on his hand. He’s circling faster now, and sucks against her nipple through her dress. Never taking his eyes off her face.

“Don’t let anyone hear,” he reminds her softly, just as he pushes his index finger deep inside her. Feyre grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him hard, as she begins to fuck herself on his hand. Rhys grinds the heel of his palm against her clit as she does, and his other hand makes a fist in her hair.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he tells her. “I just wanna make you feel good.” He adds a second finger, and can’t help but imagine what she’d feel like if she was rocking on his cock like she was on his hand. Feyre’s nails scrabble at his chest, and her eyes meet his only momentarily before rolling back in her head.

“Do you feel good Feyre?” he asks her. She nods, mouthing words but not making any sound. “Can you come like this?” he whispers. Her hands tighten in his shirt and she’s struggling to draw breath. “That’s it,” he says. “Don’t make a sound, just come on my fingers.”

And she does. Her lips move silently, and her hips bow up off the bed. It takes Rhys a minute to realise she’s mouthing his name.

Feyre tightens around his hand as she climaxes, and when she finally comes down, she looks so peaceful. Rhys gives himself another moment to watch her, and then kisses her softly.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispers. Feyre’s eyes open into his, and waves crash in her gaze. He put his fingers in his mouth, kisses her again, and then disappears like smoke.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

[eternalsimp]

Cursed Fears (pt 2)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Word Count: 3703

Warnings: NSFW 18+, Aged up Megumi, mentions of violence, character death, swearing, use of female pronouns and anatomy, angst, slight praise kink, oral sex (f. receiving) Minors DNI.

Author Note: This is a sequel but it can be read as a stand-alone. pt 1 is up on my blog and pt 3 will be posted soon.

Megumi’s POV

Everything was dark and the smell of blood was overwhelming. I couldn’t tell where I was exactly, I knew I was in the domain of a special grade but I was sure I had gone home to y/n. Nobara, Yuji, and I had exorcised a second-grade curse and had called it a night. So where did this domain come from? How did I get here? I could swear I could hear thunder crack every now and then, but I can’t even remember if there was a storm when I was here with Yuji and Nobara. Where was Gojo when I needed him? I stumbled through the darkness blindly before I was met with a sight that made my heart drop.

Sukuna sat lazily on his throne, his red eyes trained on me in a predatory glare, sharp nails tapping impatiently on his temple. “It's about time you showed up, I thought I was going to have my fun without you. Now that you’re here, we can continue.” Sukuna’s mouth pulled into a sinister grin as I stared at the limp figure at the foot of his throne.

“Y/n…” her name came out as barely a whisper, my throat felt like it was closing up. She was at home studying for her statistics class, I know she was. I shook my head violently before pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. This isn’t real.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer? Not feeling so tough anymore are you? You were so confident you could take me on earlier, so come on, take her back. Until you do I may have to play with her a little bit more, show her that she was never safe from me.” Sukuna reached down and pulled her unconscious body up into his lap. He held her jaw with one hand and turned her face so I could see. I wanted to scream at him not to touch her, or to hurt me instead, but nothing came out. Every part of my body was frozen in place at the sight of her tortured body. Sukuna could see me struggling in his domain and smirked down at me. He slowly dragged his mouth up her throat and to the shell of her ear. “Time to wake up princess, our guest is here.” Sukuna squeezed her throat at the same time he nipped her ear and her eyes flew open to immediately fall on me.

“No, please let her go.” The words finally came but I still couldn’t move. She looked so scared, the person I love most is in danger and I couldn’t do anything about it. I forced myself forward a single step but it felt like I was sinking into the ground. Why can’t I move? “I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t hurt her.”

“I told you what I wanted, I told you to come and get her. Show me just how strong you are.” Sukuna taunted. With a firm grip on my girlfriend's jaw and his other hand traveling down her body, Sukuna was in complete control. I know I can’t use cursed energy or shikigami here or I would risk her becoming collateral damage, but I couldn’t stand still and do nothing.

“‘Gumi, help me.” Her voice was shaking, her entire body trembling. I wanted nothing more than to whisk her away to safety. Her eyes squeezed shut as Sukunas mouth attacked her neck and left dark bruises in its wake.

“Time’s running out kid, I’m starting to get bored.” Sukuna’s free hand began to snake over her legs, dragging his razor-sharp nails over the soft skin there, leaving angry red scratches behind. Tears began to fall freely from her eyes and I tried to force myself forward again to no avail. Whimpers and cries for help begin to fall from her lips faster, and god I feel like I’m in hell. All I can do is watch as she cries out in fear, heart cracking at every sound she makes. Finally, she says something that makes me feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest

“You did this to me, this is your fault.” My body felt numb at the sound of her broken words. All I can do is shake my head and beg, beg Sukuna for mercy, and beg her for forgiveness.

“Baby it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“You said you would protect me, why did you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna get you out of here. Please believe me, my love.” I was on my knees before the king of curses now. So close I could pick up on her perfume that smells sickly sweet of roses, but the smell I adore so much was tainted with something else now.

Sukuna clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You know better than to make promises you can’t keep, right?” My whole body was shaking with fear and rage at the curse, but all I could do was bargain.

“Please, I swear I will do anything, just let her go.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, pleading to just see her leave here alive. Sukuna’s nails dug deeper into her throat, drawing blood as it trickled down her neck and chest in small streams.

“I think I’d rather punish you and the brat for trapping me in this vessel. You get to watch as I kill her, and then I’ll switch out with him so he can see what he’s done.” Sukuna leaned down to face me. “This is what happens when self-righteous sorcerers need to learn their place, so don’t blame me for what happens next.”

Fear shot through my entire body at those words. I couldn’t help but scream loudly as Sukuna jerked her head and a loud, sickening crack filled my ears.

I shot straight up in bed as a crack of thunder rumbled through the apartment. My eyes were unfocused as I dragged myself towards the bathroom and a wave of nausea washed over me. I barely made it to the toilet before I was vomiting into it. My knees burned from where they hit the tile but all I can think about was the sound of her whimpers and begs for help ringing in my ears. I was vaguely aware of the shirt sticking to me with sweat as I tried to control my erratic breathing. Thunder cracked again, sounding eerily like the way her neck snapped in my nightmare and I was retching again.

The cycle continued for what felt like hours until I was left coughing and dry heaving. As the panic started to ebb away I noticed the presence of my girlfriend on the floor behind me, running her hands soothingly over my back, and lightly pressing her thumbs into my spine. She had her knees on either side of my waist and was resting her head between my shoulder blades. I reached up to flush the toilet before gently squeezing her knee to let her know I was okay. She wordlessly pulled my sweaty shirt over my head to let the cool air hit my back before lifting herself off of the floor and out of the bathroom.

I shifted my body so I could press my forehead against the hard plastic of the bathtub. After a couple minutes, she handed me a bottle of water and pressed a cold, damp cloth to the back of my neck. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” voice raspy from coughing and throwing up. This wasn’t the first time I had woken her with my nightmares, and I doubt it would be the last. She reclaims her spot on the floor behind me and continues rubbing my back.

“Don’t be sorry, I prefer to be woken up by you going to the bathroom than you throwing up in the bed anyway.” I can’t help but laugh at her teasing and we could both feel the unease begin to fade.

“Yeah, that's a good point. You’re too good to me, you know that?” I moved so that I was leaning back against her chest and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders protectively.

“Nope, I refuse to accept that statement because we are the perfect amount of goodness to each other.” I tilted my head back to rest it on her shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to her neck. I couldn’t help but wonder how I was lucky enough for Nobara to introduce the two of us. It was in the small, intimate moments like these that I knew I would happily go to my grave protecting her.

Reader’s POV

“Okay you know the drill,” you said to him as you held out your hands expectantly. He smiled as he placed both his hands in yours, palm up. You pressed one of his hands to your chest and the other to his so he could feel both of your heartbeats under his fingertips. The first time you did this he scoffed at how cheesy it was, but over the two years of living together, it became common practice for when he was trying to calm down after a nightmare. You didn’t like to press him about the horrors that plagued his dreams, knowing how reserved he was with his emotions, so you found your own ways to comfort him.

“See, we’re both okay. Do you wanna get up to go lay back down or do you need a second?” He shook his head and pulled himself up to sit in front of you again.

“No, I’m okay, but can we do the other thing too?” he asked sheepishly. He turned pleading eyes towards you, and how could you refuse him when he asked so nicely.

“Of course, whatever you need. You or me?”

He took a shuddering breath before whispering “you” so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Your shoulders slumped as that one word told you everything you needed to know. The other practice that became a common occurrence after his chronic nightmares was kissing the other person's phantom injuries. More often than not it was him kissing you, as you were usually the object of his nightmares, like tonight. He liked being able to physically see and feel that the wounds inflicted on you were in fact not real. This nighttime routine often led to some heavy makeout sessions, which then led to very soft and intimate sex.

“Okay baby,” You stand up and move to sit on the side of the bed while he brushes his teeth quickly to get rid of the gross taste in his mouth. While you wait, you find yourself tugging at the bottom of your shorts self-consciously as you shiver in anticipation. After a moment your boyfriend waltzed out of the bathroom and rested his hands on either side of your waist. He bent his head to capture your lips in a slow kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss and you happily oblige him. Your mouths move in a small fight for dominance but a firm hand on your thigh has him easily winning. Your hands trailed up to rest on his shoulders as he took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently.

You gasp softly into his mouth and he brings one hand up to rest at the nape of your neck as he cradles your head protectively. He draws his lips down the side of your jaw, paying special attention to the spot behind your ear that never fails to have you melting into his hands. You tilt your head to give him better access to your throat, allowing him to deliver individual kisses to the spots where you likely had been hurt.

In a swift, fluid motion, he is pulling your tank top off of you and trailing sloppy kisses down your chest and stomach. You lean back onto your elbows as he runs his hands over your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You let out a shaky breath as he begins to kiss his way up the inside of your legs. “Just relax baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” He punctuated each word with a kiss or nip to the inside of your thighs, and you could feel the arousal pool at the pit of your stomach.

You forced yourself to make eye contact just in time to see a devious smirk grace his features. Before you could question it he is yanking down your shorts and blowing cool air onto your core. You yelp and instinctively try to snap your knees shut. He chuckles lowly to himself before tossing your shorts somewhere behind him. He brings his face back between your thighs to lick a long, hot stripe up your core. You gasp loudly and let your arms give out behind you. He reaches one hand up to where you are clawing at the sheets to intertwine your fingers together.

“My pretty baby is already so worked up and I’ve barely touched you. What a good girl.” He lowers himself back down to lap up the arousal dripping onto your legs before sucking your clit into his mouth. You arch into him and groan loudly which prompts him to hum triumphantly around the bundle of nerves. He moves his free hand down to expertly curl two fingers into you and starts pumping in and out at a steady pace. After a few pumps of his hand, he curls his fingers to find the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

The combination of his mouth and fingers working you is dizzying and you can feel it pushing you closer to the edge of your climax. He could feel how close you were and began to move with more purpose, determined to make you cum more than once in the night. With the hand that isn’t intertwined with his, you reach down to tangle in his soft hair. “Wait, I- oh shit- I’m gonna cum.”

He removes the hand that was holding yours from you and brings his thumb down to rub circles into your sensitive clit. “Come on baby, I got you. You can cum for me.” He moves his mouth to rejoin his fingers at your slit to bring you closer to your high. A particularly hard press of his thumb has you crying out in pleasure and grinding desperately against his face. He removes his fingers from you and replaces them with his tongue to help you ride out your high. He greedily drinks up your release until you are weakly nudging him away.

“Do you want me to stop?” He looked up at you innocently, which was contradicting when you remembered the things he was doing mere seconds prior.

“No, I just want to feel more of you.” You could feel a hot blush creep up your body at the realization that he was still halfway clothed, while you laid completely naked in front of him. His brain seemed to process this at the same time because he was quickly ridding himself of his sweatpants and grey boxers.

His hard cock thumps softly against his toned stomach when he stood again and you were having a hard time not staring at the man in front of you. He wasn’t bulky, but the muscles that rippled underneath taut skin were nothing to sneeze at. He glanced up and caught your stare, and returned it with a cocky smirk. “See something you like?”

“I sure do,” you flashed an innocent smile as you sat up and palmed his erection. He gasped at your sudden boldness and leaned onto the bed for support. At this proximity, you were able to tug his earlobe between your teeth and bite down gently. “Please baby, I want you so bad.” Those words snap him back into action and he’s crashing his lips against yours again.

He moves you back up the bed and crawls over your body. He braces his forearms on either side of your head and experimentally grinds his hip against yours. You let out a soft “please” that comes out whinier than you intend. You lean your face up to give him a soft kiss before he reaches down to line himself up with you and slowly presses the tip inside. He shallowly thrusts to slowly work into you, mumbling praises against your skin as he moves deeper.

You can’t help but wince at the stretch his cock always brings you, which would border on outright painful if he didn’t feel so good. Your head falls back against the bed, clawing at his back to try to find something to ground yourself. He glances down to where he is buried deep inside you before pressing his forehead to yours. “I know sweetheart, it's almost there. You’re- fuck- doing so good for me,” he reassures as he presses a soothing kiss to your temple.

When he finally bottoms out he stills his hips to let you get comfortable and adjust to him. He takes this opportunity to pepper your face and chest in kisses and returns one of his hands to your neck where it cradles your head. You bring one of your hands to his hair to tug gently before rolling your hips against him, eliciting a breathy moan from him. “You can move baby, I’m okay.”

He nods and gives a couple of slower thrusts before setting a steady pace. He opted for slower deep strokes which made you feel every inch of him as he thrust into you. His thrusts have his cock brushing all the right spots inside you, and all you can do is gasp and moan for him while clinging to his shoulders. “Megumi, please,” you aren’t even sure what you were asking for. The pleasure has your head spinning and unable to make complete thoughts.

You can tell he is getting closer to his own climax because his thrusts are getting progressively faster and he is getting more vocal. “God, baby you’re taking me so well.” He hooks one of your legs around his waist and the new angle lets him hit your sweet spot with every roll of his hips. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel another climax approaching, and Megumi picks up his pace again.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me again?” You bury your face into his shoulder and nod. He moves one of his hands to play with your clit to push you over the edge. You arch into him and let out a strangled moan as your orgasm washes over you. You’re sure you’re leaving deep scratches across his back as you grip him tighter. His hips stutter as you clench around him and he gives a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s cumming too with a loud groan. He unconsciously rocks into you lazily as you both come down from your highs.

“Are you okay baby?” He kisses your forehead and strokes your side to try and bring you back to reality. You nod again, not quite trusting your voice yet. He chuckles and slowly pulls out to not overstimulate you. You squirm at the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs but he’s already moving to the bathroom to grab stuff to clean you up.

When he comes back out he runs a warm cloth along the inside of your thighs and quickly over your center, which has you wincing at the sensitivity. When he's done he pulls out a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his loose shirts for you to wear. He helps you slip the clothes on and tugs his boxers back up before climbing back into bed with you.

You stand up to crack open the window next to the bed before laying with your back against his chest. The cool air from the rain seeps into the room and he mutters a “thank you” into your shoulder, surprised that you remember he runs hot for the rest of the night when he has a nightmare.

The clock on the bedside table shows that it's about 5:30 in the morning, so you estimate that he woke up roughly at 4. “Do you feel okay enough to go back to sleep?” You feel him shrug behind you and you scoot closer to him, pulling one of his arms over your waist to lace your fingers together.

“I don’t know. I should but…” you hear his voice trail off and nod in understanding. He always has a hard time falling back asleep on nights like these. He warned you about his chronic nightmares shortly before moving in together and confessed that he’s had them since he started high school at Jujustu Tech. However, you take small comfort in the knowledge that since living together they’ve gotten less frequent, and his reactions to them have become far less violent.

“Will you feel better if one of your shikigami sleeps in here? Just so you know that nothing will happen.” He considers it for a minute before tugging his hand out of yours, circling his other arm around your waist, and folding his hands to summon his divine dog. Its head pokes out of the shadows under the window. You pat the empty spot on the bed and it jumps up excitedly before laying down and letting you scratch behind its ears.

Megumi chuckles behind you and shakes his head. “You just wanted the dog on the bed didn’t you?” He reaches over to ruffle its soft fur as it dozes off.

“Checkmate,” you crane your head to place a kiss on his cheek before settling back against him. “Now will you please try to go back to sleep? I don’t want to nag you but realistically you can’t function on only two hours of sleep.”

“I’ll try but I can’t make any promises you know.” He tucks his chin on top of your head and relaxes around you. You hum in acknowledgment before slowly drifting back to sleep.

[hoboal87]

Don’t Speak, Part 2

Title: Don’t Speak, Part 2

Pairings: au!Dark!John x Reader, au!Dark!Sam x Reader, au!Dark!Sam x Reader x au!Dark!Dean, Sam x Dean

Word Count: 2.1k+

Summary: Y/N’s nightmare is only just beginning.

Warnings: Non-Con/Rape, angst, daddy kink, breeding kink, Wincest, forced orgasms, forced voyeurism, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, knife play, breath play, humiliation, hints of Stockholm Syndrome.

A/N: I have embraced the darkness! I’d like to thank @cockslut-padalecki and @negans-lucille-tblr for encouraging me to write outside my comfort zone and the product is this filth.

A/N 2: This is more plot than I intended, but there is plenty of smut! 18+ only

TW: Non-Con/Rape - There is nothing about this that is consensual in any way. Please, READ THE WARNINGS AND DO NOT READ if you feel that it will offend and/or trigger you. Don’t like? Feel free to move along.

No Beta all mistakes are mine. (I still have tense issues, I’m aware.)

My Full Masterlist

Part One

The eldest Winchester wasn't lying, and a small part of you is glad that Sam and Dean had taken you first. John is as long as Sam and as thick as Dean, and every pump of his cock feels like it's splitting you in half. John releases you completely from your bindings and you use what strength you can to fight back against him. You claw at him, but he doesn't stop, if anything, he seems to enjoy the struggle you're putting up.

"That's it darlin’," he whispers, but there’s no sincerity behind his words. “The more you fight, the longer I’m gonna hold off. Maybe let the boys have a go at you again,” he smirks.

He turns your head so that Sam and Dean are back in your line of sight. Neither of them are paying any attention to your or their father, instead, Dean has Sam bent over a chaise, and all you can make out are their grunts as Dean’s hips slam against Sam’s ass.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the brothers, John chuckles, and when you try to turn away, his hand slaps across your face.

“I didn’t tell you that you could look away, did I, darlin’?” He scolds you, pulling his cock out and maneuvering you onto your stomach. “What was that?” He asks, keeping one hand firmly on your face, forcing you to continue watching the brothers.

“N-no,” you squeak as he impales you on his hard cock again.

“No, what, darlin’?” He leans forward, his breath hot on your cheek.

“No, sir.” You whimper, but it was clearly not what John wanted to hear, as his free hand moved around your neck, cutting off your air supply, all the while, you can feel the coil tightening once again. It’s humiliating; how many times you’ve come no matter how hard you fight against your body, the Winchesters are relentlessly ripping orgasm after orgasm out of you. He squeezes tighter, and you wrack your brain trying to think of what he wants to hear.

“D-daddy,” you murmur, your eyes never leaving Sam and Dean. John removes his hands from your face and neck, and instead cages you underneath him.

“That’s right, darlin’, I’m your daddy now,” he licks your ear, and a shiver runs through you. He lifts your hips, and forces you to spread your legs as far as you can. All the while keeping his fast and brutal pace. “Keep watching my boys, see how special their love is.”

Even with your obscured vision, you can see Dean snaking his hand underneath Sam’s hips. Sam lets out low fuck, and from what you saw you earlier you can assume that Dean is stroking his cock.

You don’t move and try not to make any sounds at all. John, like his sons, enjoyed the fight, and you try to save some of your dignity by not giving into them so easily.

Your body goes limp as John continues thrusting, grunting and groaning as you hope he’s nearing his own completion. You close your eyes briefly, but a sharp sting of John’s palm lands on your ass, causes you to open them and focus on the brothers.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groans. His arm moves faster, and Sam whines, arching back, so that he is flush against Dean’s chest. You get a full view of Sam’s cock, covered mostly by Dean’s hand.

“Keep watching,” John orders as his hips begin to stutter.

“Dean,” Sam whines as ropes of cum land on the chaise, and Dean gives a half-dozen thrusts before stilling.

John holds himself deep inside you, seemingly cumming over and over again inside you, and you can feel it leaking out of you when he pulls away. As he did when he first entered the room, he chuckles at the sight, and you feel his fingers brush against your abused pussy.

You fear John will scope up the remnants and force you to swallow his juices as he did before, but instead he pushes them back into your cunt.

“Can’t waste Daddy’s cum, Y/N,” he tsks, “how else are we gonna put a son in you?” John grabs a corner of the silk sheets, and wipes off his cock, his eyes never leaving you as you remain frozen. “Clean her up and dress her,” John orders as he pulls on his trousers, Sam and Dean stepping up behind him. “Our carriage arrives in an hour.”

“Yes, sir,” the brothers answer in unison.

“See if one of the whores downstairs can do something about her face. Don’t want the priest to get the wrong idea,” John lets out a low, breathy chuckle. “And make a decision about which one of you is gonna marry the slut.”

“Sir,” Dean steps forward. “We were thinking–”

“No,” John hisses seemingly knowing what the unasked question is going to be. “The deal was I let you and your brother fuck around, on the condition that one of you gets a wife and produces an heir.” The thought of any of the men putting a child in you makes your stomach turn, and you can’t help but vomit at the thought. None of the Winchesters seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t care.

“A crueler father would’ve found you a bride the minute you were eligible,” John continues, only stopping to give you a momentary glance. “People back home are starting to question why neither of you have married yet. I don’t care which one of you takes the bitch on, or who the child belongs to, one of you is getting married before we leave London. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answers for both brothers.

John finishes redressing, and stalks away. The brothers share a cursory glance, before moving towards you. You flinch at their touches, even though they are softer and more delicate than before. You curl into yourself, helpless to do anything.

Your wrists are bruised where you were once bound, your pussy throbs from the multiple intrusions, and to your embarrassment, you’re still leaking John’s cum.

Dean disappears for a moment, and you watch as Sam's eyes roam your body, like you're a piece of meat, and he’s as hungry as he was before. You try to cover yourself, not that it really mattered, the brothers had already seen more of you than you had of yourself.

You bring your knees to your chest, and wrap your arms around them, foolishly thinking that it could deter either brother from taking you again.

Dean appears with a modest dress, it wasn’t the one you had worn to the party, but you figured they’d ripped it apart while you were unconscious. Dean hands the dress off to Sam, and instructs him to help you dress while he finds someone to work on the state of your hair and face. Sam huffs at the order, but complies, pulling Dean into a raw and passionate kiss.

Dean mumbles something about later, and leaves you and Sam alone in the strange bedchamber. Sam grabs at your ankles, and though you know you have little to no chance of being able to fight him off, you throw all of your weight into your free leg aiming for his gut.

You feel the sole of your foot connect with his trim and taut stomach, and Sam doubles over. You take the opportunity to make for the doorway, modesty be damned, you needed to get away from the Winchesters before you forcibly married into their family and made nothing more than a broodmare.

Each step you take is like walking on needles, but you push through the pain as best you can, screaming out for help. The door’s nearly within your reach when everything goes black.

You wake up in the restraints again, now with Sam leaning over your body, the silver blade that was once in Dean’s possession now sliding across your chest.

“Bad idea, Y/N,” Sam grumbles, and you pull against your bindings. “Gonna have to teach you a lesson now.” Sam puts more pressure on the blade, enough to draw blood, and most likely scar your body. You wince as he continues, holding back your tears as long as you can, until he begins rutting against you, his cock getting hard through his trousers as he rubs against your naked pussy.

He slides his trousers down, just enough to expose his hardening cock, and you attempt to bring your legs together, trying to do something– anything to keep him from fucking you again. Sam brings the blade to your neck, and he doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what will happen if you don’t cooperate.

“Lucky you're still filled with my father’s cum,” he says softly, “won’t have to get you ready for me.”

You let out a silent scream as Sam pushes inside. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, instead, he starts moving in long and hard thrusts, unlike before, where the brothers were getting amusement out of your unwanted arousal, this was Sam’s way of showing you that he was in complete control.

Sam grunts over you, and brings his head down to where he had drawn blood just minutes before, and laps up at the crimson liquid. He places bruising kisses upon your lips, and gnaws at your shoulders, breaking the skin.

“You’ll make such a good wife, Y/N,” he murmurs in your ear, as if you are supposed to take it as a compliment. “Once Dean and I fuck the disobedience out of you, you’ll be perfect,” Sam pants over you, and you swallow thickly at his words. “Can’t wait to see you round with our son.”

Bile fills your throat again at the mention of being forced to carry a child that you do not want. Treacherous tears leave your eyes before you can stop them, and you focus your gaze on the ceiling, hoping and praying that Sam will finish soon.

“Just couldn’t resist taking her again, couldja Sammy?” Dean’s voice fills the bedroom again. “I guess this means she’ll be Mrs. Sam Winchester,” Dean approaches the bed, and sits on the edge.

He watches intently as Sam continues to abuse your cunt before moving behind you. Sam stops as Dean situates himself behind you, propping you against him. The atmosphere changes, and you realize that Sam is no longer the one in charge, Dean is.

“Sammy being good to you, sweetheart?” He murmurs into your ear, and when you don’t respond Dean tuts at Sam. “Let her cum, Sammy.”

“She tried to leave,” Sam argues, and Dean lets his hands roam over your body.

“Leave? Bad idea, sweetheart,” one of Dean’s hands cups your breast, while the other makes it way down your stomach, and reaches your swollen bud.

You moan unwillingly when Dean begins toying with you, building an orgasm, that you hate to admit you want. Sam’s thrusts become more deliberate, now that Dean’s here, Sam seems to want to please him by making you cum on his cock.

You can feel Dean hardening beneath you, but he makes no effort to use you for his own pleasure.

Sam leans over you, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you, but instead, he presses his lips against Deans. Though you’re practically face-to-face, Sam’s focus is no longer on you, but on his brother.

Dean continues to swipe at your bundle of nerves, and when he commands it, you cum hard, coating Sam’s cock with your arousal.

Everything after that is a blur, you remember the brothers dressing you, a woman entering and making you look “presentable,” before quickly leaving. You’re led to a room where John and a priest stand quietly.

You tried to protest, but John explained to the priest that you’d been ill, and that your parents had already given their blessing for you to marry. The priest bought the story, not that it surprised you, a woman’s word held nothing over a man’s.

John reached over to hug you, a seemingly loving gesture to anyone unaware of his true nature. He not-so-subtly reminded you that you no longer were a lady of the court, but you’d be the property of him and his sons. You nod, the only thing you can do, and smile slightly, and whispers of good girl, fill your ears as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

A few hours later, you’re boarding a ship bound for America, a trip that would take no less than a month. The Queen must’ve given the Winchesters more money than you could ever imagine, as the four of you were the only passengers. You’re greeted by a dark-haired, blue-eyed man.

“Ma’am,” he bows his head slightly, and whether it be intentional or not, reminds you of your new role.

Mrs. Winchester.

Forever Tags

Part Three

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[reids-rendering-reality]

Blind Date

Summary: Derek Morgan sets up two of his friends for a blind date. They have never heard of each other or seen each other. But something tells Derek’s intuition they would get along well.

Type: fluff

Warnings: talking about serial killers

Word Count: 1.9K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I walked into work on a regular Tuesday morning, coffee in hand, a book tucked under my arm and my bag draped over my shoulder. I wasn’t expecting anything at all, being the first to walk in as per usual. Following my typical routine for paperwork day I sat down at my desk and went through file after file on that big pile in front of me. After about 30 minutes the others walked in. Still, everything appeared completely normal. So normal in fact, that it was almost suspicious.

“Hey, pretty boy,“ Derek said loudly as he walked directly towards me, without even stopping at his desk first, “I have an idea that you’re not going to like at first, but you’ll agree to anyway.“

“If I’m not going to like it, why would I agree to it?“ I asked curiously and looked up at him as he came to a halt right in front of my desk.

“Because I am asking you to and you will thank me later. Now hear me out please.“

“Alright,“ I responded, shifting in my seat towards him and pushing my glasses up a little.

“So, you know how the other day you said that you never go out on dates?” He obviously noticed my face flush as my eyes darted around the room to check if someone else was listening, “I was thinking, how about I play the wingman to help you get a date?”

“You want to play the what?” I asked confused and shocked simultaneously.

“Forget it,” he said hastily, “what I’m trying to say is, I set you up for a date.”

“You did what?” I could hear my voice getting louder the more shocked Derek made me. Again looking around, I noticed Emily exiting the elevator.

“A friend of mine – a female friend, who is also single – recently complained to me how she always dates the bad guys and how she just wishes for a good guy to come along and sweep her off her feet. So I set up a blind date for you guys. Listen, Spencer, I know this is uncomfortable for you, but it’ll be fun. Just agree to it and see what happens. You can become friends with her or never speak to her again afterward. But just give it a shot, maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Derek grinned at me.

I thought about it for a moment. Why was I even considering it? This is a crazy idea! She probably wouldn’t like me anyway and I would just embarrass myself for a few hours before going home and reading the book just as I had planned. But the way Derek was looking at me like he would never let me say now, and just that little sliver of something similar to hope made me nod my head slowly and uncertainly.

“Great! Wait – it was that easy to convince you?” Derek asked, a little shocked.

“It was this easy to convince him to do what?” Emily, who now reached us, interjected.

I went to yell a quick “nothing” before the situation got out of hand, but Derek was faster and began explaining the scenario.

“And he agreed to a blind date? Looks like our genius isn’t that much of a recluse after all,” Emily mused as she walked away towards her desk.

---

Y/N’s POV

To say I was nervous was an understatement. I hadn’t been on a proper date in like forever plus 2. But I promised Derek I wouldn’t bail on him and go to the restaurant anyways.

So here I was, entering a beautiful Vietnamese restaurant that Derek picked out 5 minutes before 8 pm on a Friday. To ensure the blind-dateness of it all, the table was reserved in Derek’s name. And he picked the perfect spot. In the back corner, a little bit further from everyone else, but with a view out the window into Washington D.C’s buzzing nightlife.

The waitress led me to the table, which was not yet occupied. I sat down against the wall to make sure I would see whoever came in. Taking off my coat to reveal my satin dress underneath I shivered lightly at the lack of warmth. Maybe it was the nerves too. Taking a deep breath and looking out the window into the night, I tried to force myself to calm down. I did not want to make a bad impression on one of Derek’s friends. If he was one of his friends? I knew nothing about this man. Just that it was one. A man.

Just as I began getting lost in my thoughts of who would be my dining partner, I noticed footsteps approaching me. My clock read 7:58. At least he’s very punctual. Looking up towards the body the feet belonged to, my heart began beating faster.

In front of me was a tall, handsome man with longish hair, dressed in a fine black suit and a deep crimson shirt. He looked shy, his eyes wide open and his lips slightly parted. He turned to thank the waitress and I examined his portrait. Ugh, he was definitely attractive. I thanked Derek in my thoughts for knowing my type and giving this man a head start.

“Can I sit here?” his voice was quiet as if he were as uncertain as I was. I nodded and smiled slightly, to calm both his nerves and mine. He sat down and for the first time our eyes properly met. And for a second we just stared.

I was the first to look away, my nervousness taking over, “um- I’m Y/N”.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said more confidently now.

After exchanging the expected small talk about how we both knew Derek and what we did for a living, we ordered our food. This is the moment I feared. Chitter chatter out of the way, waiting for the food. What if there was nothing to talk about now?

“You’re studying medicine?” he asked to draw my attention and I nodded, “how are you enjoying it?”

And boy, he should not have asked that. With my heart racing in my chest, so were my words. I began a ramble on how I always wanted to study it and what excited me the most. When I realised how much I was talking I abruptly stopped with an awkward, “so yes. I am enjoying it.”

He grinned slightly, which eased some of my nervousness. I smiled back at him slightly.

“I’ve been meaning to say, you look beautiful tonight,” he said and for the first time that evening, he sounded confident. I guess my ramble eased his nerves too. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I quietly thanked him.

Right then, the waiter came and brought our food. We ate in silence for a little while, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was serene. We looked at each other occasionally, appreciating the other’s presence.

After a while, Spencer spoke up, “did you know that the reason why Vietnamese food is so healthy is partly because they don’t use that much oil? And of course also because the food contains so many vitamins, like C, B1, B6, and B3, but also many trace elements, for example, zinc, copper, magnesium, and potassium.”

I looked up at him as he started talking and nodded attentively, “no. I did not know that. But now I feel encouraged to eat Vietnamese more often.”

 We finished our dinner with pleasant conversation, Spencer interjecting a few interesting facts here and there. I quickly realised he must be incredibly intelligent, which made me even more attracted to him. But I must admit, I was pretty proud when I knew some of his facts and could even add to them with my knowledge. For example when we got to the topic of serial killers (which of course was unavoidable given his job):

“So one gene that could make a person psychopathic is the gene coding for monoamine oxidase A. If you have one version of it, the protein becomes ineffective and can’t break down your brain’s monoamines like serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. One study on a family in Holland found that they all had a version of it where the protein was completely ineffective. And they had unusually high levels of aggression and violence in that family,” Spencer said. His speed was almost hard to keep up with, but me hanging onto every word he said helped.

“I know! But the gene alone doesn’t suffice to make someone more aggressive. A study found that which gene version you have interacts with your environment during childhood. In maltreated children the effect on aggression can be seen way stronger than in children with a normal childhood,” I responded excitedly, leaning forward onto the table.

But Spencer didn’t respond. Instead, he froze, his lips parting as his jaw dropped a little. He stared at me with an emotion that appeared to me like shock mixed with fascination – and maybe awe? I didn’t know what to do so I just looked back at him shyly, feeling a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

 That night, Spencer drove me home, like a gentleman. When we arrived at my apartment, he got out of the car and walked me to the door.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” I said softly looking up at him.

“Me too,” he smiled, and then a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him, “would you maybe – I don’t know – want to… do this again some time? Only if you want to of course.”

A smile spread onto my lips as well, “I’d love to.”

---

Spencer’s POV

The Monday following my dinner with Y/N, I walked into the office with a slight bounce in my step. I was still ecstatic over how well it went, and that I even had a chance with her. We had texted all weekend, about anything and everything.

“Hey Reid, come over here,” Derek shouted at me from his desk.

My face instantly flushed as I realised I would now have to spill all the details to him.

“How did the date with Y/N go?” he asked curiously. I could feel the eyes of Emily and JJ on the back of my neck from Emily’s desk.

“Um- it went well, I guess,” I said, shuffling my feet around awkwardly.

“It went well? Come on, Spence, give us more details!” JJ said as the two of them came to join me and Derek as well.

“Yeah, I mean we talked a lot and she enjoyed my fun facts. We will go on a second date soon, we even texted all weekend,” I stuttered, not meeting any of them in the eye.

“See? What did I tell you, Reid? You would not regret this,” Derek told me and then turned to the girls, “am I one hell of a matchmaker or not?”

They giggled slightly as my hands reached up to feel my burning skin.

“I knew she would be your type, just like you’re exactly hers. Enjoy it, kid, she’s a keeper for sure,” Derek said while patting my shoulder as he left for the coffee machine.

[reputayswift]

Your reblog speaking of perfect first drafts made me go into breakdown mode! How about people that do write almost perfect first drafts? Fic writers I follow and say they wrote 10k words in a day and then polished it in 2 hours and they’re ready to POST something ??? For people to read ??? And it turns out pretty great ??!? How do they do that??? It literally depresses me, maybe because English is not my first language (or I let myself believe that’s the reason), but it takes WEEKS for me, working on a 5k words draft almost every day, and I still think it’s flawed and keep editing after I posted... I love writing, it’s the only time I feel like I’m accomplishing something in life, which is stupid but whatever... I don’t know if I’m really slow or a weird perfectionist, sorry for venting like this ohmygod. Anyway I so understand Shizuku crying after pouring her heart out on that draft she wrote, I believe we do have gems inside of us but I also wish it were easier, or that I didn’t feel like it’s easier for everybody else except for me.

IF YOU FIND OUT LET ME KNOW LOL!! I’ve been really struggling with that “it’s easier for everyone but me” feeling too so unfortunately I can’t tell you for sure how to beat it, but I can tell you you’re far from stupid or weird 💜↓

Writing, at least in the way I view it, is already translation! You're taking thoughts and feelings and images and trying to pin them down with just the right words so other people can see and understand it —  it’s a lot like drawing that way. That already feels restrictive in your first language (I always feel like I'm "settling" by using words to express myself), so writing in English is naturally going to contribute to a longer drafting time — you're translating twice! 

Now as someone who only writes in her first language and ALSO takes forever (note how long it took me to respond to this lol), I can tell you that the importance you’re placing on your work is also contributing. You see your writing as an extension of yourself. No shame in that, that makes you a writer! But it also makes imperfection and criticism more devastating. Because writing has the potential to be perfect until it’s written and published, you go back and edit and edit hoping to get closer to it. The fact you can identify areas of improvement after posting shows that you’re learning and growing and becoming an even better writer, so don’t chastise yourself for feeling the urge to edit. BUT ALSO (and this is very much a “do as I say, not as I do” recommendation ;)) if you want to be a faster writer, you have to apply what you’ve learned from your past mistakes to your future work instead of endlessly picking at your current work. 

You know that Uncle Iroh quote? “Pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame.” Changed my life, genuinely. I always thought being extra critical of my work made me humble. But really, it’s more akin to shame. Like you, I feel like writing is the key to really accomplishing something, and expecting myself to always put out perfect work is pretty prideful isn’t it? I don’t hold other people to that same standard, and I suspect you don’t either, which may be why you see others’ day-long work as great while feeling your weeks-long work is unpolished. When we let go of the expectation that our work will be 100% every time, it’s easier to put our work out there as it is and move on to other projects. 

Now this is all from my personal reflection and experience, but I hope you can take something away from it 💜 Writing is hard! And regardless of how long it’s taking you, you should be proud of yourself for doing it! 

[combat-wombatus]

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death. 

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again. 

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy! 

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge​

here’s the link to the music :)

The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O  Y O U  W A N T  T O  F L Y  W I T H  M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

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