#I NEVER KNEW BUT I NEED IT TO LIVE NOW!!!

[thebarneschronicles]

Closer to Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think.

A/N: This was supposed to be something else ENTIRELY. But it just unravelled and here we are! Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts about it! B xx

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Your relationship with Bucky hadn’t started with fireworks or dramatic confessions—it began like any other normal relationship: after drinks and a movie.

It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt heavier after long hours at your desk. You were finally wrapping up for the night, shrugging on your coat and slinging your purse over a shoulder. The clock had just ticked past 10 p.m., though it hardly felt late to you. Still, your shoulders sagged under the tension of the day—hours spent poring over intel, trying to uncover scraps of information that might help Sam and Bucky on their next mission.

“You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You looked up to find Bucky leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed. His voice was gruff but not unkind, his blue eyes shadowed but steady.

“It’s just a few blocks,” you replied, already bracing for the argument.

His jaw tightened—a subtle shift, but one you’d come to recognize as the start of his infamous stubborn streak. “Doesn’t matter. My ma would haunt me if I let you.”

That earned him a laugh. “Your 'ma' sounds like quite the character.”

“She was,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “C’mon, grab your stuff. I’ll walk you.”

You didn’t argue further, mostly because you were too tired to win, and partly because there was something oddly comforting about his protectiveness, even if it came wrapped in brooding silences and sharp glances.

Being around Bucky had taken some getting used to. You knew about him, of course—who didn’t? But nothing had prepared you for the sheer intensity of James Buchanan Barnes up close. His unrelenting stares, his quiet presence that somehow filled a room, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders.

When you’d first joined their team as the “girl in the chair” (a term Sam insisted on despite your repeated protests that you were, in fact, a woman), you hadn’t known what to expect. Your days as a research journalist had been left behind in favor of a role that felt more like a sidekick to two superheroes. Never the hero, always the support.

“It’s not nothing, though,” Sam had told you once, catching you mid-eye-roll during a particularly grueling debrief. “You’re saving lives too, y’know. Every name, every address you dig up? That’s someone else’s tomorrow you’re protecting.”

Still, the job came with its own toll: exhaustion, migraines, and a constant ache in your wrists from hours of typing. But it also came with a quiet sense of purpose—and Bucky’s occasional company.

At first, his silences had been intimidating, his brooding presence almost oppressive. But you met him with unwavering kindness—bringing him coffee when he looked like he needed it, or letting him retreat into your office to escape Sam’s chatter. Slowly, the silences grew shorter, and the stares softened into something more watchful.

Now, walking beside him under the soft glow of streetlights, the quiet felt less like distance and more like understanding.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this a one-time chivalry thing, or do I get an official escort service from now on?”

Bucky snorted. “You’re assuming I’m doing this for you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, grinning. “Who else is benefitting from my safe arrival home?”

He glanced at you, a spark of humor flickering in his eyes. “Sam’ll never let me hear the end of it if something happens to you. Man loves his lectures.”

“Ah,” you said, mock-serious. “So I’m saving you from Sam’s wrath. Got it.”

He didn’t answer right away, but his pace slowed slightly, his hand brushing the base of your spine as you turned a corner, like he was directing towards home. “Maybe I just like making sure you’re okay,” he muttered.

Your heart stuttered at his words, a quiet ache blooming in your chest, but you didn’t dare press him further. Hope was a dangerous thing, a fragile spark that had burned you one too many times before. It was safer to tuck it away, to pretend his words meant nothing more than what he’d said—a simple gesture of kindness, nothing deeper.

You were friends, after all... right? Or at least, friendly. He was kind to you, yes, but Bucky Barnes was kind in a way that felt carefully measured, like a soldier fulfilling his duty. He was a gentleman through and through, the kind who’d been raised to believe it was his responsibility to make sure no lady faced the dangers of the night alone.

“His mah would’ve expected nothing less,” you thought wryly, your lips tugging into a faint smile.

He was a man out of time, after all. Decades removed from the era he was born into, yet somehow still anchored there, even now. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rules he followed were the same ones ingrained into him all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to believe that than to let yourself hope he cared for any reason beyond habit or honor.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. His hand hovered near your elbow, steady and sure, as if ready to catch you should you stumble.

The steps to your door loomed far too quickly for your aching heart, bringing an abrupt end to your time with the brooding soldier. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if your body was reluctant to leave his quiet, steady presence.

You paused on the final step, its height almost eliminating the difference between you and Bucky. It gave you just enough courage to look up at him, your fingers nervously twisting around the strap of your purse.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He dipped his head in a single nod, his icy blue eyes flickering down to meet yours. His expression, as always, was unreadable, cast in shadows under the dim streetlamp. “Anytime.”

The simplicity of his reply made your chest tighten. You nodded in return, swallowing hard as your heart hammered in your throat. Turning away from him, you fixed your gaze on your front door, willing yourself to move forward, to end the moment before it unraveled you completely.

Friends. That’s all this was. It had to be.

So why did it feel so wrong to turn your back on him? Why did it feel like you were forcing yourself to betray something deeper, something unspoken, simply by walking away?

Your hand was on the doorknob before you realized you’d stopped moving, the quiet war between your heart and your mind reaching a fever pitch. You squeezed your eyes shut, battling the urge that rose in you like a wave.

Don’t do it. Just go inside. Let him leave.

But the battle was already lost. Before you could stop yourself—before logic could wrestle control away from the reckless beating of your heart—you turned. Your feet moved without permission, carrying you back down the steps toward him.

It wasn’t a decision so much as a pull, steady and undeniable, the words slipping from your lips as if carried on a tide of longing you couldn’t resist.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?”

The words tumbled out unbidden, your voice trembling just enough to betray how desperately you wanted him to say yes.

His reaction couldn’t have been more Bucky if he tried. His eyes shifted, and you swore you could see every emotion flash through them—surprise, hesitation, something a lot like longing—before they settled back into the stoic mask he always wore. Quiet. Unimpressed. Broody. And yet…

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, shaky with relief, and you motioned toward your door. “Well, come on then. I’ve got a six-pack that’s been waiting for some company.”

His presence filled the small apartment in a way that made your breath catch, the air somehow heavier, more electric. How many times had your silly, stubborn heart conjured up this exact scenario? Late at night, Bucky standing just inside your door, peeling off his worn leather jacket and tugging off the gloves that shielded both metal and flesh. Then, as if he’d done it a thousand times, he’d settle into a corner of your couch, legs spread, shoulders sinking back into the soft fabric like he belonged there.

“There's Heineken, Bud, and Corona,” you said, your voice only slightly betraying your nerves as you toed off your shoes and dropped your keys and purse by the door. “I think I might even have some whiskey stashed away somewhere. What’s your poison?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze trailing lazily around the room before settling back on you. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded, biting back the grin threatening to stretch across your face. “Sure thing,” you said casually, though you were certain the flush creeping up your neck gave you away.

You turned toward the kitchen, your heart doing an embarrassing little leap as you busied yourself rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. The clink of bottles felt absurdly loud in the quiet apartment, every moment stretching with the weight of his presence just beyond your line of sight.

“Nice place,” he called from the living room, his tone casual but laced with something warmer.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing two beers and popping the caps off with practiced ease. “I’d say make yourself at home, but it looks like you’ve already got that covered.”

When you re-entered the room, there he was��exactly as you’d imagined so many times before. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his gloves neatly set beside it, and Bucky himself sprawled out comfortably. His metal hand rested casually on his knee, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Here you go, Mr. Barnes,” you said, forcing a steady smile as you handed him the green bottle.

“To your first visit,” you began, raising your own bottle in a toast. You couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered, taking in the sight of his broad frame on your couch, the casual way he sat, the sheer presence of him filling the space. Warmth pooled low in your belly, and before you could stop yourself, you added, “May it be the first of many.”

His smirk deepened at that, a flicker of amusement flashing across his features. He raised his bottle silently, going for a sip—but you stopped him, your hand darting out to rest on his.

“Wait!” you blurted, your palm lightly pressing against his larger one.

His frown was slight, his gaze shifting between your hands before settling on your face. “Why?”

“You have to look at me when we cheers,” you explained, your voice a little breathless, a little unsure of what you were doing but too far in to back out now.

His brow arched. “And why’s that?”

“Bad luck if you don’t. Years of it.” You shrugged, suddenly feeling the ridiculousness of your own words but refusing to back down. “I mean, I can’t even count how many years... Probably best not to risk it.”

For a second, you thought he might argue. But then he chuckled, a soft sound that sent a flutter straight to your chest. “God knows I’ve had enough of that already, haven’t I?”

You giggled, your laughter bubbling out, light and carefree. The fact that he played along felt like a victory, a small but monumental crack in his stoic armor.

With a glint of something softer in his eyes, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze locking with yours. “Alright, doll,” he said, his voice quieter now, warmer. “Let’s do it properly.”

Eyes steady on yours, he clinked his bottle against yours, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet room. And then, he didn’t look away—not for a second—as he took a slow sip.

You followed suit, the contact between your eyes and his making your heart race so fast you thought it might burst. The heat in his gaze was steady, grounding, and yet it sent a thrilling, electric charge through you that made your knees nearly buckle.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, the faintest curve to his lips as he lowered his bottle.

“Much,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice steady, even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

The air between you seemed to shift then, heavier but no less comforting—a new tension that simmered beneath the surface. If Bucky noticed the way your gaze lingered on him, the way your breath hitched every time his hand grazed your knee as he reached for another beer, he never said a thing.

He was the perfect gentleman, as always. Even when you slid closer on the couch, settling beside him on the plush cushions - even though there were a whole three other seats available to you. Even when you turned toward him, resting your head on your palm, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his face while you rambled about the mission reports piling up on your desk. He didn’t even glance at your neckline when you leaned over him to grab the remote, though you couldn’t help but steal a quiet inhale of his scent—clean, warm, unmistakably him.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I feel like I’m torturing you by making you listen to all this. Do you feel like watching something?” Your tone was cheery, light, but your heart raced at the thought of sharing something as simple and intimate as watching a film together.

With your eyes fixed on the TV, you missed the brief hesitation in his expression—the flicker of doubt that crossed his face and quickly vanished. Yet, neither the guilt, the fear, nor the pain that lingered in his soul seemed strong enough to stop him from embracing what you offered so openly: a chance to simply be. For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky seemed just a little less burdened by the shadows of his past, a ghost of his old self and a lot of his new one urging him to give in.

“What’s on Netflix?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

Your head whipped around so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “How do you know what Netflix is?”

His lips quirked into a rare, genuinely amused smile, the kind that made your stomach flip. “I’m old, but I’m not that old, doll.”

“You’re 106,” you shot back, arching a brow.

“And yet, I still know what streaming is,” he countered, the smile growing. “I’m not living under a rock.”

“Well, I am impressed, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, settling back into the cushions. “What else do you know about modern technology? Please tell me you’ve at least heard of TikTok.”

His expression shifted into something closer to a scowl, but the playful glint in his eye betrayed him. “I know about TikTok,” he said, sounding almost offended. “And dating apps. God, the horrors,” he added, shaking his head dramatically as he glanced at his phone like it was some sort of ancient relic.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the cozy space between you. But beneath the humor, your stomach twisted with an unexpected knot. Dating apps?

“What about dating apps?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity in your voice was hard to hide.

Bucky groaned, slouching deeper into the couch as though the thought of them physically pained him. “I don’t know, doll. They just seem... unnatural. All these profiles and swiping left or right, like you’re picking a product instead of a person. Not my thing.” His voice held a certain distaste, and the casual way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from experience—or just his own strong sense of principle.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the questions bubbling up inside you. Had he ever used them? Was he speaking from personal experience, or just from watching the chaos unfold around him? Your thoughts shifted uncomfortably, and you tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

“I get it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s... kind of weird, honestly. It’s like shopping for a date, but with less... quality control.” You shot him a teasing grin, but the tightness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Bucky chuckled, the sound a low rumble that was soothing, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly. I mean, if I’m gonna meet someone, I’d rather it be... I don’t know, real? Not behind a screen.”

For some reason, his comment made your heart stumble, a traitorous beat skipping out of rhythm. You quickly dropped your gaze to your beer, hoping the reaction wasn’t written all over your face. Was he hinting that he preferred real, in-person connections? That he’d rather... meet someone like that?

You cleared your throat, feigning casual interest to mask the swarm of uncertainty rising inside. “So, how would you go about it? Finding a date, I mean. Is Sam your wingman?”

Bucky nearly choked on his beer, shaking his head vehemently. “God, no! Can you imagine? He’s too busy being Captain America to care about my love life... except when he’s accusing me of flirting with his sister.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and your chest tightened with something sharp and unwelcome. Jealousy. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to chase it away. “I didn’t know you liked Sarah,” you said, and to your horror, the disappointment in your voice was impossible to hide.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the shift in your tone. “She’s great,” he said with a thoughtful nod. Then his lips curved knowingly. “But not like that.”

The heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, and Bucky’s sly grin told you he’d noticed. Your relief collided with your curiosity, the two tangling into a dangerous need to know more. “Oh,” you started hesitantly. “So... if not her, then who?”

He took another sip of his beer, the pause deliberate. “Had one date with the waitress from that Asian place we always order from. It… didn’t go well.”

Your brows furrowed. “And you haven’t tried again since then?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, the movement deceptively casual. “You know how it is these days—apps, algorithms, everyone judging you by a couple of photos and a bio. And who’s lining up to date a former assassin, huh? People know too much, too soon. Real connections don’t happen that way.”

The self-deprecating edge in his voice made your heart ache. You tilted your head, studying the way his vibranium fingers tapped lightly against the beer bottle. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the nervous thrum beneath your skin, “you’re looking in the wrong places.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and searching. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice low, almost daring. “And where do you think I should look?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, his attention. “Maybe a little closer to home,” you murmured, eyes resolutely fixed on the beer bottle in your own hands.

The silence that followed was electric, charged with unspoken possibilities that hung in the air like static. His gaze lingered on you, steady and intense, and you could feel it even without looking up. It made your pulse race in a way you didn’t dare acknowledge.

The truth was, you weren’t sure if you were just caught up in the moment—or if there was something more lingering in his words, in the way he was looking at you now.

You wanted to ask. The question burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But a part of you hesitated, afraid of the answer. What if this was nothing more than friendly banter? What if pushing further shattered the comfortable connection you’d built?

“Closer to home, huh?” Bucky’s voice was a low rumble, breaking the silence but not the tension. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and for a moment, it felt like he was closing the space between you. “And what does that mean, exactly? You got someone in mind for me, doll?”

There it was—that nickname. The one you pretended to hate but secretly adored. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the corner of your mouth twitch, betraying the smile you tried to suppress. His voice was so close it warmed you from head to toe. “I’m just saying,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral, “maybe you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you.”

His lips quirked, his expression softening as if he’d caught onto something unsaid. “You think so?” Bucky asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You dared to turn your head and glance at him, and the way his blue eyes locked onto yours stole whatever breath you had left. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know so.”

The moment stretched between you, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. You swore he was leaning closer, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. And suddenly, the question burning in your chest felt inevitable.

“Bucky…” you began, voice trembling slightly, unsure of what you were about to say—or what he might say back.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, a thread of warmth in the charged air between you.

You hesitated, but the weight of your emotions was too much to carry any longer. “Is this a date?” you finally blurted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

For a moment, his expression didn’t change, and then he shook his head slowly. “It’s not,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

Your chest tightened, and the disappointment hit hard, like a blow you hadn’t braced for. You tried to mask it, but your face betrayed you, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the rejection. The ache in your heart grew with every second of silence that followed, the room feeling colder with each passing beat.

What you missed was the storm raging behind his steel-blue eyes—the internal battle he fought against his demons, the ones that screamed he wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for anyone. He’d carried those ghosts for too long to ignore them now. But he wasn’t blind.

He’d noticed the way your smile softened when it was meant for him, brighter and warmer than it ever was for anyone else. He’d seen how you fretted over him after missions, your hands fluttering with concern even at the smallest scratch on his skin. And he’d felt the hope radiating from you tonight when you’d invited him over, your words laced with a vulnerability you rarely showed.

Bucky knew. He’d known for a while. And that knowledge both terrified and thrilled him. Love, in any form, was fragile—he’d learned that the hard way. But tonight, sitting here with you, he realized he couldn’t keep running from the possibility of it.

He wanted you. Your laughter, your kindness, your stubbornness, your touch. He craved all of it. And maybe he didn’t deserve it, but for once in his long life, he wanted to try.

Bucky set his beer down, his movements deliberate, and leaned closer. His flesh hand brushed against the back of your arm and the touch sent a shiver up your arm. 

“It’s not a date,” he repeated, voice low but filled with a quiet resolve that made your breath catch, hurt twisting at your heart.

Your brow furrowed, the downturn of your lips impossible to hide. “Heard you the first time…”

“This isn’t a date,” he pressed on. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he added, “But it could be.”

Your heart skipped, his words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “Bucky…”

Cutting through your hesitation, his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, steady. “If you want this… if you want me, I’m yours. I want to try.”

The vulnerability in his voice left you breathless, stealing any coherent thought you might have had. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in your chest, warm and radiant. You didn’t hesitate this time, your lips curving into a soft, trembling smile.

“Is this because you’re afraid of the apps?” you teased, the quip breaking the intensity just enough for you to breathe. But your voice wavered slightly, and your eyes glistened with the tears threatening to spill. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

Bucky chuckled, low and genuine, the sound sending warmth curling in your chest. “I’m not a damsel in distress, doll,” he said, his tone playful as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned into it instinctively.

“And you’re also not the big bad wolf you think you are,” you countered softly, your voice tinged with both affection and defiance.

“Well, technically…” His lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “I am the White Wolf.”

You rolled your eyes, the tension breaking into something lighter, something safe. “He jokes,” you said, shaking your head. “He could be kissing instead…”

His grin softened, and for a beat, he just looked at you, his hand still lingering near your face. Then, as if your words had given him permission, he leaned in, closing the space between you in a way that felt both inevitable and extraordinary.

“Guess I’ll take your advice for once, doll,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your lips.

The moment his lips touched yours, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. His kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than an assumption, as though he wanted to be sure this was what you truly wanted. His warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, while his vibranium hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding him in the moment.

You sighed into the kiss, your hand instinctively reaching up to thread through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The movement drew him closer, and he obliged, deepening the kiss with a soft groan that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours in a way that spoke of patience and restrained hunger, like he was savoring every second of this moment.

His vibranium hand finally moved, finding your waist with surprising tenderness. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his other hand through the fabric of your shirt, but it pulled you to the reality of him—both the man he was and the one he’d fought so hard to become.

When you parted briefly for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and brimming with emotions he didn’t have to say out loud.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice rough and full of awe, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

But you weren’t done. You weren’t ready to let the moment slip away. Sliding your hand from his neck to his jaw, you tilted his face back toward yours, brushing your lips against his again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him. He responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his mouth moved against yours with more certainty, more passion.

The kiss deepened, growing warmer, more insistent. Your bodies angled closer together, his presence consuming your senses. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and the faint rasp of his stubble as it brushed against your skin only made the experience more intoxicating.

You weren’t sure how it happened—one moment you were pressed against the back of your couch, his hands and lips demanding your full attention, and the next, you were straddling his thighs. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your harsh breaths mingled, the taste of his tongue intoxicating and impossible to resist.

For all his claims of being a man out of his time, Bucky Barnes knew exactly how to touch a woman. His hands were a perfect dichotomy: one warm and strong, the other cool and unyielding, but both equally firm and commanding. His touch left no room for doubt or hesitation, responding to every unspoken plea you hadn’t yet found the words for.

And his kiss? God, his kiss. You could write sonnets about the way his lips moved against yours, the way his tongue teased and claimed you, coaxing a need from you that you hadn’t known you were capable of. None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of him, his body pressed against yours, solid and capable. The things it could do—what it was doing, what it promised to do—set your whole body alight with yearning.

You kissed him harder, deeper, needier, your hips moving instinctively against his. His groan rumbled low in his chest, a sound that only made you crave him more. But just as your movements grew more desperate, his vibranium hand clamped firmly on your hips, halting your rhythm. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, gentle but insistent, forcing you to break the kiss.

“Doll…” His voice was rough, laced with a warning that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, still dazed, heat crawling under your skin as you realized what you’d done. “Yes, I’m sorry, I know—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

His breaths came heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours as his steel-blue eyes bore into yours. The hunger there mirrored your own, and the restraint in his grip only made you want him more.

Your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, your own need warring with the desire to break the tension. “Seems like I really am trying to steal your virtue, huh?” you joked, your voice light but shaky as you turned your head to press a soft kiss to his palm.

His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the hunger. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your jaw to trail gently along your cheek, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

Your free hand wrapped around his vibranium one, your thumb tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with promise as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the charged silence stretching as his hands anchored you, holding you steady but never pushing. His restraint was palpable, and you knew without a doubt—if you wanted more, he would give it to you willingly. But only if you asked.

You wouldn’t, though. Not tonight.

Instead, you leaned in, brushing soft, sweet kisses against his lips, your movements unhurried and tender. Each kiss felt like a promise, an unspoken assurance that there was no rush, no need for anything more than this moment. It took superhuman strength—the kind he had—not to let it escalate.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and your cheeks warm. His eyes searched yours, and the way he looked at you—like you were the most precious thing in the world—made your heart swell. His thumb grazed your cheek, his smile soft and genuine.

“How about that movie?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes betrayed a depth of emotion that made your breath catch.

You laughed, the sound breaking the last remnants of tension and filling the cozy space around you. “Alright, fine. Let’s find something to watch, then. Any preferences?”

“Anything but those baking shows Sam keeps trying to get me into,” he muttered, his lips quirking in faint exasperation.

A giggle bubbled out of you at the mental image of Sam dragging Bucky into a world of frosting, sprinkles, and delicate pastries. The idea was so absurd yet so perfectly Sam that you couldn’t help yourself. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips lingering just long enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble. “Deal. No baking shows.”

As the two of you settled back onto the couch, scrolling through movie options, the tension between you shifted again—this time, it was softer, lighter, wrapped in a warmth that felt safe and steady.

Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absently brushing against your shoulder as you leaned into him, your body naturally seeking his. And for the first time in a long time, you noticed something different about him. The shadows that usually haunted his expression seemed to have lifted, replaced by something quieter, something calmer.

Here, with you, Bucky wasn’t the broken soldier or the ex-assassin haunted by his past. He was just… himself. And in that moment, you realized that’s all you’d ever wanted him to be.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Secrets of the Bly

The canopy sailed over the horizon line.

The mother looked out the window, snapping the sheets as she folded them. Her clear gray eyes were the same color as the morning sky and just as gloomy.

“Closer,” she muttered. She seemed surprised she had spoken, and her hands slowed, fingers lingering on the fraying edge of her own bed sheet. She wet her lips. Said again, “Closer.”

“What’s closer?” the daughter asked.

The mother didn’t jump, but the air changed as if she did. Her shoulders stiffened. Her hands went back to work. “Nothing,” she said. Then, not being able to help herself, “The forest is growing quickly.”

“Teacher says that trees don’t grow fast. Only an inch or two a year.”

“You couldn’t see the Bly when you were a baby,” the mother said. Her heart stung. She knew her daughter wasn’t calling her foolish. Lately, when the little girl spoke of her teacher, something she never had, it makes something sour in her want to lash out. “Now look how tall it stands!”

The daughter came to the window. Her clothes were ill-fitting. She looked as if she tumbled in and then out of fresh laundry only to come up wearing a whole bedspread. The dress she wore used to be the mother’s from when she was young. Her eyes traced the horizon. “That’s faster than teacher said.”

“Not even a teacher knows everything,” the mother said. Her own mother’s voice rang through hers. That made her jump. She thrust the laundry away from her and finally looked at her daughter. “Some truths are only learned while living—”

The daughter stared at her bare feet. Shoulders rounded. Lip jutting out so far the mother could see it through her hanging, flaxen hair. The mother’s heart stung different.

“The Bly is…different,” the mother said. It’s her own voice this time. Softer and more yielding. She kneeled so that the daughter could see her right away when she chose to look up. “It’s a secret I’d like you to keep.”

The daughter’s eyes darted up, meeting the mother’s. Her lip contracted a centimeter. “A secret?”

“Just between us two,” the mother agreed. Was the little girl old enough? She would give anything to bring her daughter’s chin up again. “Your teacher is right that trees grow slow. The Bly is different here. Only here.”

“Only here?”

“On our land. You see, the Bly is home to another kind of creature. Like us, but not. They are mischievous and kind and cruel. More importantly, they’re magic.”

“Fairies,” the daughter said confidently.

“The Good Folk,” the mother said in her own mother’s voice. Then to soften it, “And that’s not the secret.”

The daughter reached out to put her hands on her mother’s shoulders. She jumped in excitement, using her mother to steady herself. “Tell me! Please, tell me.”

The mother smiled and placed her hands over her daughters. She tilted her head forward and was rewarded when her daughter stopped leaping about and pressed her own forehead against hers. She whispered, “The secret is that once, a long time ago, I stole something from them. That’s why the forest grows so quickly over the horizon. They’re looking for what I took.”

“What?!” The daughter was amazed. “You said never to steal.”

“I did. I needed it very badly, mustn’t I have?”

“Yes,” the daughter said. Her quick mind tumbled through her mother’s confession. “So you’ve been in the Bly? What was it like? Teacher says there are wolves in there. What did you steal?”

For a moment, the mother was not there. She raced through dense old growth with her feet cut to ribbons and her skirts sticking wetly to her legs. Her breath came in cold clouds in front of her and she ran through them just as quickly as they formed. She could use only one hand to shield her face from vines and branches. Her other arm was curled around the bundle in her arms.

“One day,” the mother said. She stood but wrapped her hands around her daughter’s so that she knew it was only a necessary retreat and not a complete one. “One day, when you’re older, I’ll tell you all the stories I have.”

The girl’s lower lip was out again. “How old?”

“When the Bly hits the edge of our land,” the mother said. She held out her pinky. “Promise.”

The girl was suspicious. “It grows fast?”

The mother’s heart stung differently again. “Very fast.”

“Deal!”

---

(Patreon)

[stormberry-12]

sunshine and sarcasm // P1: oh god, it talks? ~ lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x fem!introvert!piastri!reader

warnings: slight language, creepy guy.

notes: Let me know if I should make another part, wasn't really sure if I wanted it to end here. Also, ignore that the timeline doesn't line up... xxx

You walked through the bustling paddock in search of the bright orange garage-

Sorry, papaya.

Your older brother, Oscar, had his face and race number plastered above the overhead door. It was the Australian Grand Prix and your entire family had been invited to experience it in person. You actually didn't even live in Australia anymore. You had been working out of the country for many years, perfecting your craft and experiencing great opportunities outside your hometown. So this early pop-up to free practice was surely a surprise for Oscar.

"Y/n/n?"

"Osco!!" he crushed you in a hug.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work, mum wasn't even sure you'd make it for the race Sunday-"

"I wanted to surprise you," you grinned back at him, "If I can only make it for one race a year I want to experience the whole shebang! Even the practice sessions,"

"Oh mate, I'm so excited!" Oscar exclaimed, with the most enthusiasm his personality offered. To some, his tone may have sounded sarcastic but you knew, by the glint in his eyes, that he was genuinely happy you were here. "Shit- I have media, but then I could totally show you around, the second round of free practice doesn't start for another few hours,"

"Sounds good!" you smiled, Oscar's gaze trailed over to his teammate standing on the other side of the garage. You knew who Lando Norris was, from interviews with Osc, but you had never actually met him.

"I can introduce you to Lando too, he's great,"

"I'm good," you mumbled and your brother chuckled. There were definitely similarities, personality-wise, between you and your brother. You didn't need to meet Lando and you didn't want to meet him. From certain clips online you were sure his loud persona would be way too much for you-

"OSCAH!" The Brit yelled making both of your heads turn back to him. Proving your previous thought. "GET OVAH HERE YOU'RE SLOW!"

"Oh god, it talks?" you hissed.

"He is a person, and yes he talks." Oscar scolded, "He's very nice, don't be rude."

He gently elbowed you in the side, before walking towards the other racing driver and a set of cameras. You went and sat upstairs at some tables, putting your headphones in and waiting for your brother.

Once you were out of earshot, Lando turned to his teammate, "Who's the lady?"

"Oh, my sister. Well one of them, I have three." Oscar replied.

"Huh..." Lando hummed, hesitating, "Think you could introduce me?"

"Mateee," Oscar grumbled, already knowing where this was going. It wasn't the first time he had to tell one of his friends that you weren't interested.

"Pleaseee Osc?" Lando pleaded, Oscar side-eyed him hard.

"You know, I offered to introduce her first and she said 'I'm good.'"

"Ouch,"

"I'm sure it's nothing personal, she's just a bit introverted and grumpy-"

"Runs in the family I see..."

"-and then you proceeded to yell very Britishly across the entire room," Oscar finished, ignoring his teammate's jab.

"What do you mean 'Britishly'?" Lando chuckled.

"What do you mean 'runs in the family'?"

"Touche,"

"Oh my god," a loud giggle interrupted your peace, you lifted your head to see the two Mclaren boys on the floor playing Twister. You hadn't meant to catch them in the filming process but you couldn't deny it was quite entertaining.

You removed an earbud to hear Lando mumble, "What a sight that is..."

You chuckled to yourself, Osc was squatted with his butt right in Lando's face, both giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm in... such a bad place right now." Oscar sighed.

"I'm like in the splits," they giggled once more.

"Left foot yellow," one of the Mclaren media team instructed, after spinning the wheel for them. You stood up and walked over to the crew, exchanging smiles and waves with some of them.

"Oscahhh,"

"We can't be on the same sticker can we?" Oscar shook with laughter.

They mumbled something incoherent, Lando's voice cracked slightly, "Ahhhh, my voice is gone. Oscah call it quits. YOUR LEFT FOOT IS NOT GOING BETWEEN MY LEGS!"

Everyone laughed, both drivers looked up noticing your presence.

"Y/n/n help me!" Oscar pleaded.

"Y/n/n tell your brother he's lost!" Lando countered, smirking over at his teammate. You houghed, wondering who this guy thought he was, using Oscar's nickname for you. To be fair though you hadn't properly introduced yourself.

"Sorry Osco," you smiled at him, "It's not looking too good for you..."

Oscar tried to maneuver his body once more, before standing up and accepting defeat, "That's it, I'm done-"

"Yeh, he's called it. I win!" Lando cheered.

They cut the cameras and you waved at your brother, "Alright, I'm going to find lunch Osc, I'll find you later,"

The bustling paddock was a lot to take in, you had asked around the garage to see if anyone knew of a nice outdoor spot to eat. But after noticing that the few picnic benches close by were all occupied, you sighed in defeat. Holding your food bag close to your chest, you retreated to the McLaren garage.

However, a hard hit to your back made you stumble and drop your food, content spilling all over the ground.

"Whoops, sorry gorgeous," A man snarled, chuckling. His eyes were narrowed at you as a sickly grin spread across his face. "Hey, what's a pretty lady like you doin' all alone around here,"

"Just getting lunch," you replied curtly, avoiding eye contact. "And I'm not alone-"

"Well, that hasn't gone too great so far has it," He put an arm around your shoulders and you froze. "My apologies, come with me let me buy you something to eat,"

"No. Thank you. I'm headed to—uhm—find my boyfriend anyway, " you lied, scrambling out of his grasp and towards the garage.

"Oh come on gorgeous," his large strides met yours as you walked away.

"Please leave me alone, I'm not interested."

He grabbed your wrist pulling you to face him, hot breath hitting your face. You shook slightly, preparing to kick him with all your might, and start screaming-

"Y/N/N!" a voice yelled.

British.

The accent gave away who it was, but honestly, at this moment you didn't care, as Lando Norris' arms wrapped firmly around you from behind. You pulled your arm out of the other man's grip and he took a step back.

"Do we got a problem here mate?" Lando spoke, his sharp tone catching you by surprise. You clung to the top of one of his arms that draped around your shoulders and the man eyed the both of you in annoyance.

"No. Just trying to help the lady out," he houghed, you felt Lando's chest heave against your back.

"Well, I believe as she probably told you before, she's quite all right on her own," Lando responded cooly. By this point crowds of people, which often formed when Lando Norris was around, watched and whispered at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Okay-" The man turned to leave.

"Hey, asshole." Lando spoke again, the anger you felt radiating off his body now leaving his mouth. Wishing you could see his face at that moment, you squeezed his bicep in a silent plea to let it go. Not wanting to cause more of a scene than you already had. "Don't just walk away, apologise to her."

You hesitantly made eye contact with the man across from you. And after spoiling your lunch, pestering you, and invading your space he mumbled one simple half-hearted word.

"Sorry," and walked away.

Lando gently released you and you slowly angled your body to face him. Not making eye contact, you scanned the people around that had clearly watched but were now avoiding your gaze.

"Oh god, I've caused a scene," you whispered.

Lando chuckled, making your face heat, "You're so much like your brother," You met his blue gaze, "It's okay. Are you okay?"

"Oh um- yes thank you for..."

"No worries, that guy was pissing me off," he mumbled, something flashing in his eyes, suddenly shy he added, "Sorry if I uh- crossed the line there-"

"It's alright..." you said softly, "I should get going, thanks again-"

"Wait! Let me walk you?" he offered with a small smile, "We need to get you more lunch right?"

You nodded and started towards the McLaren garage for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Lando followed by your side in silence, glancing over at you multiple times, seeming to ponder a conversation starter.

Hating small talk you quickly offered something else, "Want to see some embarrassing photos of Oscar?"

His face split into a grin, shaking his head excitedly. You pulled out your phone and started scrolling through some of the most horrendous photos that you had taken of your brother over the years. Including baby photos of course, and 'Vines' that you had made in your teenage years that made Lando squeal with laughter.

Your chest fluttered slightly at his warm laugh, so engrossed in your memories that you hadn't even noticed how casually he held your elbow and pulled you to the side. Only a few steps away from the garage and not wanting to end the moment.

"Wait, go back!" he giggled. You had landed on a horribly angled photo of your brother at the ripe age of 13, glaring at you angrily through the camera.

"His hair is so bad!" You wheezed.

"Can I just-" he held out his hand and you offered your phone. He took it and quickly typed in a phone number to send himself quality Oscar photos. "Thank you so much. My life is complete," he joked, handing the phone back to you.

"No problem," you laughed, smiling up at him.

His cheeks turned pink, and he spoke softly, "So are you-"

"LANDO!" he was suddenly called by one of the McLaren mechanics.

"Oh shit," he cursed checking his watch, slowly stepping away from you, "Sorry, I gotta go- shit -um I'll see ya around okay?!"

He gave you a wave, turning before you could answer, and jogging over to his team. You waved back hesitantly, but just like that he was gone. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and began walking in the other direction, wondering if he had turned back over his shoulder.

Why did you want to look back?

You continued your adventures around the paddock, getting food and the tour that Oscar had promised. You had missed him truly, he was one of your best friends as a kid and still was. It still felt strange adjusting to your lives as adults.

Eventually, it was time for him to head back and get in the car for another practice session. A group of fans surrounded Oscar for autographs, and he shot you a sympathetic look which you waved off with a smile. Standing off to the side, you pulled out your phone in an attempt not to look awkward, surprised by the many texts you had missed.

Oscar looked over your shoulder, catching you by surprise, "Who are you texting?"

You jumped, "No one-"

He gave you a confused face and then smirked at your screen, "Heh, is mum mad?"

Your face snapped back down to your phone, one of the other people to text you was your mother. You noticed her last message was in all caps and quickly opened it, color draining from your face.

Turned out Lando didn't need to tattle on you anyway.

And good god indeed.

[i9messi]

Don't break up with me — Oscar Piastri

Because of a misunderstanding, Oscar thinks you want to break up with him. Signals made him suspect he was right, but in fact, you just want to surprise him with a new puppy.

word count — 1,3k

note: i promise you this is pure fluff and romantic stuff. oscar here loves reader soo much, so I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Oscar started to think about the last half of the year. Everything in your relationship had been so wonderful in those last few months, almost too perfect to be real.

You went to support him to his races every weekend, had romantic dates in your favourite places, went to museums and book stores and enjoyed ordinary things such as going together to the market. You had a beautiful relationship, where you supported each other and talked about your concerns as well as your future. Having known each other since you were teens, you and Oscar had talked many times about what you wanted to do in the future: to get marry and start a family.

Your families were very close, his mother loved you and you loved her, even spent time with her when he was not around. Your side of the family adopted him as their son, showing love to him.

There was no way you would break up with him. It made no sense.

However, the signs were there. That morning before heading to the circuit he had called you and you interrupted him, saying you were busy. That would have made sense and it was fine, except then he talked later to his mom and she told him you had been texting her all morning. Why didn’t you want to talk to him?

It was bad. That couldn’t be happening.

“Oscaaaaaaaaaaarr.” Someone shouted and that made him come back to reality.

Lando was in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch. Oscar used to be the most calm in your relationship. He took things easy, used to think before taking action, but now thinking so much was turning him into a person full of insecurity.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked, realizing that his teammate was acting differently than usual.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your girlfriend?”

Oscar didn't try to hide the truth, not with him. “I think she’s going to break up with me.”

Lando was silent for a moment, until he burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I feel bad. I’m devastated.”

“She’s not gonna break up with you, mate.”

You didn’t live together yet, you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet, but you practically lived next to each other. Your apartments in Monaco were only a few meters away. Yesterday he had invited you on a date and you told him that you couldn’t go. Lately it was as if you didn't want to spend your time together, as if his mere presence was annoying to you.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you're the perfect couple. You love each other, you show the world how adorable you are, and then make everyone else feel miserable.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore, Lando.”

“Go talk to her, then. Crying and feeling bad about it won’t solve a thing. Go and win back your lady.”

Oscar listened to his teammate, knew he couldn’t waste time or the opportunity to talk with you. He found you just a few minutes later and you hugged him, while he left a kiss on your forehead.

“Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Oscar. Congratulations for the race, I'm very proud of you.”

That had to mean something, didn’t it? If you hadn’t missed him and if you didn’t want him more in your life, you wouldn’t have answered that. Oscar was trying to convince himself that he still had a chance with you.

“Let’s go to my house.” he suggested, as you raised your head and looked at him with a face that showed no feelings.

“We better go to mine. We need to talk.”

Damn. You were going to break up with him. You never spoke like that, you had never said those words before.

On the way to your apartment in Monaco, he drove quietly. Oscar noticed you were nervous. You ran your hand through your hair and barely spoke. You were acting strange. He was increasingly convinced that once you arrived at your home, you would tell him that you wanted to break up with him.

The road was eternal and the worst of the worst. You arrived and stayed in the living room.

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and came back a few seconds later. He drank the water in a single instant, too thirsty and nervous.

“Is something wrong, Oscar?”

“Do you want to break up with me?”

You stayed silent, until Oscar spoke again. His eyes were shining, his hair was messy from all the times he had passed his hands over it.

“Don’t break up with me, please. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, you're my everything. I love you, that’s all I know. If I did something wrong just tell me, I'll try my best to not make the same mistake again."

“Oscar, baby…”

He hesitated, but he walked a step closer to you. Oscar was trying to not lose his mind.

“We can’t break up."

His supplicant gaze begged you not to leave him, not when he needed you so much.

“I love you and my life would be shattered without you.”

And something happened. You smiled.

“Oscar, I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t know what made you think I would.”

Calm made Oscar relax, but he remained confused. He was very sure of all the signs he had seen, he wasn't crazy and he was not imagining things. You had been acting strangely in those last days.

“Then why have you been acting so weird?”

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

You left and came back a while later with something in your arms. A little puppy.

“It’s for you, honey.”

Oscar couldn’t help but come closer to you to see the puppy. The animal looked at him with a little mistrust, but once his hand came to caress the dog, the puppy began to move his tail with happiness, while you saw him with a smile on your face.

“A dog? For me?”

“It was a surprise. I talked with your mum about it and she even helped me. When you'll be busy with work stuff, I will be taking care of him.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the animal in his arms, the puppy ran his tongue over his face and Oscar squinted his eyes, while he couldn't stop feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“l didn't expect this, thank you.”

“I would never break up with you, Oscar. You make me happy. That’s why I thought of adopting a puppy for you.”

“Then why were you acting so weird?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. Yesterday I went to get him and that’s why I canceled our plans. Today the puppy peed in the clothes I was going to wear, just when you called. Also, he started barking and didn’t want you to find out. It was my little secret.”

Oscar had never been so happy, he left a kiss on your lips. Your mouths joined and he smiled so happily.

“I love you, you made me the happiest man in the world.”

“We have our little family now, Oscar. We are parents of a dog.”

Even as you planned to start a family when you were old enough, sharing the life of a pet was everything to him. Sharing the care and affection of a puppy made his tender and loving part appear.

“I love you and I love this animal. I will take care of you and him for my whole life.”

You weren't breaking up with him, that was the best part of all.

[whotooksentientwaffle]

Eventually, someone had to notice. Shame it had to be me. Turned out, every human had died in 2038, after the climate had become so inhospitable they started dropping like flies. Probably should have figured it out then.

Anyway, it happened like this: I was out, around 2:00 AM, as usual, looking for a solid victim. I was back in Toronto, visiting a cousin in the Sanguine College, and I needed a snack. We've all had those days, let's be honest.

Anyway, point is I needed a snack so I popped into some dude's apartment on Maplewood Avenue and I had a look at his walls before I took a bite. Let me tell you, I've never seen that many posters of werewolves, even when I was a teenager talking to furries in 2003. Connected two and two, added some dots, realized some stuff, talked to a few friends, turns out none of us had seen a real, honest-to-god human since 2038! Imagine that! Two hundred damn years of living in terror of their greater numbers, two hundred years of slinking in the night, of watching the moon, of being careful not to cast a spell in public, and it turns out they're all dead!

So obviously we took this to my boss. Doctor Magnus Schrenn, an old German man with a weird obsession with clocks. We told him, he asked around, some of his contacts asked around, and it got confirmed. Hell if any of us knew what to do. At that point I think the Elders were still considering a Shadow War with the werewolves, but honestly I think the realization we were it kinda snapped them out of it.

Because we are it. The rules are the rules. No conscious Embracing of non-humans, be they mages, werewolves, shapeshifters, whatever. Now, everyone knew their neighbour was something, which means no embraces, no mage ascensions, no shapeshifter evolutions, nothing. Welcome to Earth, Population: Growing, but barely.

God, help us.

Humanity went extinct. However, the supernatural creatures pretending to be human were so good at it that no one realized there were no more humans for over 200 years.

[amiaclone]

hiii umm can you write some thanos (squid game 2) x reader. like just him being a flirt n stuff

Yes! My first Thanos writing I tried to make him as accurate as possible 😭

Thanos x gn! Reader

“Hey there senorita/Amigo glad a pretty face like yours survived!”

You groaned not this guy again

He kept on flirting with you before the first game and luckily you hid behind a good crowd of people for him to lose sight of you now walking back he is giving you an unfortunate greeting

Thanos was his name you’ve heard of him a rapper you’ve listened to a few of his songs but you’d never tell him that

You liked a good flirt but Thanos was a play boy right? Well he seemed like one anyways one thing you hated more then a playboy was a tryhard

“Oh great to see you too!” *You spoke in exaggeration excitement* “That was clearly sarcastic-“ *Said his friend who was immediately pushed out of the way and interrupted harshly by Thanos* “Shut up anyways atleast we have some interesting people that lived…” *He winked*

“Okay that was a good one.” *You smirked if he’s playing you might as well entertain him*

A part of you felt like it was genuine but why?

You leaned on one of the bars of the beds with Thanos following suit leaning beside you

“Want me to protect you if they try to attack you?”

You shrugged in amusement “Like the protecting but I’ll be fine they won’t attack us unless we interfere i assume”

“Ooh! Beauty and Brains this one’s a keeper!”

He smirked a bit as he praised you scoffed smiling a bit

Atleast you felt complimented

Eventually some guy told the guards that we can vote to stay or leave you weren’t sure

“So what are you picking?”

You questioned Thanos but you already felt like you knew

“Stay leaving now? That would be something an idiot would do that guy survived all the games he can guide us”

True that made you ponder in thought “But what if they change the games?” *You couldn’t help but say out loud “Well there children games can’t be too fucking bad.” *Thanos bluntly admitted*

Eventually it was time for you to vote not like it made a difference you voted to stay what Thanos said encouraged you in a way plus needed the money but now you feel like you made a mistake…

Thanos smirked

“That’s my n/n! You chose the right one!”

You scoffed wanting to act like you didn’t know him you walked over anyways

“Since you broadcasted to everyone here that we’re talking why don’t we form an alliance?”

“Absolutely not-“ “Ditto.” *He interrupted his friend again* “Need a pretty face like you on our side anyway”

*You spent your hours before the next game with your just made alliance Thanos and Nam-Gyu

You could tell Thanos was the (Un)stable one holding the alliance as Nam-Gyu silently despised you is he gay for Thanos or what? You sigh

“So babe, you seem smart what do you think the next games are?”

You quirk an eyebrow “Well there games we played since our childhood so….maybe since red light green light was supposed to eliminate half the players this one’s a….group related game?” You sounded more confused by each time you spoke but Thanos seemed to weirdly buy it

“Smart thinking, told you we got a brains on our team WERE GONNA WIN!!!” *Yeah this guy was definitely high but why do i feel like hes growing onto me?*

After that horrifying game Thanos approaches you

“Thanks my flower your a real brainy for figuring out it was group related”

You sighed smiling “Eh it was only a suggestion I didn’t actually know what the game was gonna be”

He smirked “But a beautiful genius like yourself figured out Thanos and Y/n me and you! Are gonna take over the games”

You couldn’t help but smile at that eh maybe he’s not so bad after all? Maybe

“Sure”

Tried to make Thanos as accurate as possibeee!

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[salemlunaa]

ᥫ᭡∘˚That extra push for pure consciousness ᥫ᭡∘˚

The secret to being victorious like those with the success stories…

∘˚ᥫ᭡PART I | THE VICTORIOUS

Now that it’s 2025 a lot of you have had enough, although time is a concept you’re a little mad at the fact that you didn’t induce pure consciousness last year and you’re NOT taking no for an answer this time around.

Now when we look at this community. Amidst the complaining and some negativity, there are so many success stories, those who were victorious.

Those who went to bed with a body they hated and woke up with their desired look. Those who went to bed in a one bedroom apartment and woke up in a mansion. Those who went to bed hating their family and friends and woke up with their desired relationships with their desired people. Those who went to bed with nothing to their name and woke up with a fat ass bank account.

Those who with their backs against the wall and their outer man experiencing the most treacherous of circumstances made it out of the trenches with one induction of pure consciousness.

You wanna know how to get there. Spoiler alert: you ARE there

∘˚ᥫ᭡ PART II | THE LINK BETWEEN THEM ALL

Before you will ever follow the path of being successful, you must realise what they all had in common.

They realise they that all this complaining was doing nothing for them. They decided that in that moment they had their dream life, no matter what they saw, they were a master at inducing pure consciousness. No matter what the 3D showed their outer man, their inner man was victorious.

No more reaffirming failures, no more revelling in the fact that they fell asleep while trying a few times. No more doomscrolling. No more looking at others success stories wondering when it was gonna be them when it could be them NOW.

They realised it was time for them to adopt a new mindset: That the state of pure consciousness is just first nature to them. That they are gods no matter what. That as god, the 3D and time doesn’t exist to them, nope! not real anymore. That circumstances weren’t a thing anymore. That the void state is the easiest thing a person can induce. That pressuring themselves for a timecrunch is pointless because their inner man doesn’t experience time and they get everything they want instantly. That pure consciousness is just a state consciousness that is something as effortless as being in the state of awake and the state of asleep.

It doesn’t take long to flip your thoughts. So many people with success stories have said so many times that if they knew how easy it all was, they would’ve done it sooner. Challenges are nice but you don’t need to spend weeks on them, never did never will.

∘˚ᥫ᭡ PART III | THE APPLICATION

Another thing they did was fucking apply. You’re tired of hearing that? great! because bloggers are SO tired of repeating it.

Yes failure and procrastination can be comforting. This is a great community, but don't stay here longer than you need to. And yes memes about how you "woke up in your cr again 🙄" and how little time you actually spend trying to shift awareness can be funny and relatable. But those who have success stories under their belts had to choose between comfort, relatability + aesthetically pleasing scripts and actually living their dream life. And to be victorious you must make that choice too.

So go do it, stop this dumbass belief that you are exempt from the success of inducing pure consciousness. Yes, you are the operant power and your reality relies on you and you alone, HOWEVER, if so many can do it, it's evidence that you can too. No more looking at those success stories for motivation or looking at them in jealousy when that can be you now.

To be victorious you must think like them. Believe you are successful and you will be. No you’re not “faking it till you make it” YOU ARE SUCCESSFUL. you ARE one of them.

Believe and assume like a victor and you will be one, the 3D will always conform. That’s law.

🍦🩰 To be victorious like the others, you must believe it now.

[grimaldiapologist]

Writing on a blog dedicated, at least in spirit, to our dissociative identity disorder, this is something that fascinates me. For context - living with the poster child disorder of "that's not even real" and "you're just faking it to get out of jail" and "you're just histrionic with bpd I know this because I took a psych class once in uni", that some fucking airheads still make their paycheck "criticising" in the psychology field (and teaching), the fear of being declared a faker, an attention seeker, a liar, a self-centered and stage-obsessed criminal-until-proven-otherwise came as a free package with the diagnosis. Just the suspicion of the diagnosis was enough for all of those labels. From whom? Everyone.

The first time I dared to open my mouth to my psychiatric nurse, she was putting me against the wall for lying and omitting, because in her view, I was doing too well with no explanation. In reality, at that point, I'd spent some months after becoming aware of the system getting to know them and reading up on how to get the basics of communication together, and working through the first chapters of Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation, which helped us understand what we needed to do with one another in order to stabilise and feel safer in our everyday life. Things were actually going wonderfully, I wasn't lying, but I was omitting, yes. I was omitting, because even though at that point I knew nothing about DID beyond what I was learning from resources and my friend/now partner, who'd been in the community for a long time and gave us crucial peer support in terms of figuring our situation out, I knew extremely well the stigma associated with "split personality", and our first and primary instinct has always been to hide and cover the existence of the system.

But she was forcing it, so I told her. I was asking for help, yes, but with the context of doing so well - we were winning, and we wanted to keep winning.

She promptly told us we weren't allowed to leave, and started to set us up for involuntary inpatient stay. Exactly what we'd been afraid of the most: that "the psychiatric system" would imprison us and kill us, kill the parts of us who were vulnerable, with cocktails of medication in padded rooms and straitjackets and whatnot that we'd seen in the movies. (And, to a degree, during our actual inpatient stay years before.)

The resident psychiatrist did a quick evaluation of us and released us after, clearly annoyed at the nurse for overreacting and putting us in the extremely triggered and traumatised state that we were in, but it did permanent damage.

Very soon after, we discovered the online "discourse" on the validity of DID, and the "fake claiming" communities. This is all we inherited, first thing, with our diagnosis - which we did get after the above clusterfuck, within a year, with the aid of a specialising therapist and years of notes from our history, or so I assume. I can't remember, it's been years, and I have DID. The point is, even the DID community itself demands that you will never show a bright side to your disorder.

You either suffer all of the time, always, you hate yourself, you hate your other selves, you want to die, and you're forever a mess and you're in eternal war against yourself, or you're faking.

We are not this way and have never been. Prior to discovering the system, we were poorly. To spare the details, at 29 when we were diagnosed, we hadn't worked a day in our lives, dropped out of school at 12, and spent about a decade locked indoors with suicidal spirals being the expected main event of every three days or so. But our main strength has been our us, the family that we have, and the care that we've shown each other all along. Even if we can't love ourselves, we can love each other, and after learning communication - learning to listen, learning to talk - we've been doing phenomenally. Our condition has changed from treatment-resistant and debilitating to actually, we no longer need SSRI medication at all, after being on it for our whole lives. And luckily, this is enough proof for us, but not the world.

No, we're now in that funny place where our partially treated trauma/dissociative disorder looks like too much fun to the world. We're fine and we love each other. We indulge in dressup, we have our own silly little blogs and journals each with their own specific equipment like fancy ink pens and wares of stickers and decor, we have galleries of fake Instagram pictures of ourselves, we use PluralKit on Discord and talk to ourselves like we own the chat - among friends, anyway, or just between ourselves in our private one. All of this means we're fake, fake, fake, fake. God forbid a man has fun. God forbid a woman takes an afternoon to herself to give herself a makeover and go on a date. God forbid a guy just wants to feel comfortable and laugh and express himself, or have a chat with his closest friends.

We're not in enough pain all of the time to be "true" DID anymore. If we were "true" DID then we'd still be in the untreated, pre-diagnosed state. This is a stagnant disorder of identities that may never experience growth or true humanity. All I am allowed to be is a filthy, incapable hikikomori afraid of the world, because anything else is fucking weird to people.

I'm sorry, but. None of your fucking business. I've spent 33 years of my life split squarely on a tightrope over the chasms of "I don't want to die" and "I want to kill myself now". I'm 33 fucking years old and I've earned my goddamn license to feel good, actually. I'm allowed to be fucking weird because I'm developmentally disabled. I will never not be the way that I am, and I also have no intentions to ever be anything but the way that I am, I'm just aiming to be better at it.

This now means that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my disorder... basically anywhere but here and in therapy. No matter where I go, people treat me like a criminal. People who don't have DID tell me I'm faking for clout and larping (LARPing is great by the way and you should absolutely try it out instead of using it as a weird slur online) and they're the champions of true sufferers who are there to nobly remind me that REAL people with DID are actually so in pain all of the time and dying unrecognised while freaks like me... post on Tumblr for attention or whatever I don't fucking know I'm still disabled and in chronic pain and I can't do shit with myself regardless of our overall improvement - and people with DID tell me what I have isn't real DID and I'm "anti-recovery" or whatever because I don't subscribe to their specific dogma of recovery (which, for the record, every single microcosm of the recovery community has their own version of, and they all hate each other for it). The latest edition of how this fucked us over was our choice to write frankly about the positive sides of how the often negatively portrayed coping mechanisms of DID can be turned to work for recovery, and how things like substitute beliefs (believing things that are factually untrue such as 'I am an actual dragon trapped in a human suit' when you're not) can be used not to distance one from reality to escape but help one adapt into it (because I am a dragon in a human suit, a dentist cannot scare me), and had the whole conversation just without warning or any sort of notice deleted from the community. Mods never replied to my request on clarity on what the fuck they were doing and why, and I haven't been back in the community since, either.

And it's hilarious. The whole fucking thing is hilarious. You're faking it if you've recovered too much, because a true sufferer of a severe mental health condition would never recover, but if you don't recover enough, you're anti-recovery, and therefore also faking. There's a slim venue of acceptable suffering in an eternal still-shot in the middle, but you're not actually allowed to exist beyond it or past it in any capacity.

The only true DID case is a non-person who is incapable of growth and change, for a disorder that is all about identity, which by definition is all about growth and change.

I'm so tired of it. Sorry, freaks, I'm gonna freak the way that I freak from now on. I'm too well-adjusted these days to be your perfectly martyred poster patient.

ive found that partially treated mental illness can sometimes look to uninvolved onlookers like faked mental illness.

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 3

Author’s Note: I made up a lot of sicknesses/random things that have never been mentioned throughout the actual ACOTAR series! The breaks in text are going back and forth between the two rooms.

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 3 Summary: Clara has been found out, but what has she done to you?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." Clara said softly, a small confused smile on her lips.

"When I asked you to help her, you said "I didn't do this one." What does that mean." Nesta snarled at the young healer.

Mor seemed deep in thought, Azriel and Cassian were equally confused, and Nesta seemed ready to pounce.

"Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing her say that." Mor spoke up.

"You better tell us what's up right now." Cassian growled.

At this point, Clara's smile faultered. She looked around for a way out but noticed the four of them had her surrounded and they wouldn't stop until they knew the truth. She may be evil but she wasn't dumb.

"It wasn't even that bad." The healer confessed.

"What have you done?" Azriel questioned, his voice deadly calm.

------

Madja had seen cases like yours before but never this bad. The cut on your back had traces of venom in it. A rare venom that used the victim's power against them.

She needed to extract every last ounce of it that was in your system but it was trickier than it sounded. If she took too much too fast, it could essentially tear your powers from your very being which would kill you.

"I need you to enter her mind. Once you are in, I will start to remove the poison from her system, you just need to let me know if her mind starts fading." Madja explained to Rhys.

"Are you sure this will work?" Rhys asked.

"Of course I am, boy. Now do as I say." She said quickly.

Rhys tried to enter your mind but all he could see was blinding light. There was no where for him to enter, it was almost as if the light was burning him. He pulled away, never feeling anything like it before.

"I can't get in, her light, it burns me." He explained to the healer.

"Listen to me. It might burn a bit but you will be fine. On the other hand, if we don't fix her right now her light will continue to burn brighter until it has consumed her. Perhaps we could get the shadowsinger in here to help." Madja told Rhys, hoping Azriel's shadows could help.

Rhys immediately spoke to Az through his mind and he appeared within seconds.

"What can I help with?" He rushed out his question.

"I cannot enter her mind, it is too bright, painfully so. Could you somehow use your shadows to help me get through?" Rhys explained the situation.

"I can try." Az responded.

------

Cassian looked towards where Azriel just stood, knowing he went to help you.

"I have no clue what's wrong with Y/N, honest. I swear I didn't think it would go this far." Clara pleaded with the group.

"You better start explaining before I unleash Nesta upon you." Cassian threatened.

Nesta had been eerily still, like a predator hunting her prey. Clara was visibly scared. Her hands were shaking, terrified of what Nesta would do to her.

"Ok listen. I've had a huge crush on Azriel for years now, so when I saw you guys needed another healer I took that as my opportunity." The "healer" explained.

"We've only known you for 2 weeks, how could you have a crush on him for years?" Mor asked.

"Everyone knows Azriel, the mighty shadowsinger, the feared spymaster of the Night Court. Well...when I met him all he wanted to talk about was Y/N. About how much I'd love her personality, how she's so great," Clara went on, "so I was a little jealous of her."

By this point, Mor was dissappointed she didn't believe you. She assumed you were exhausted from your mission and the guilt she felt was awful.

"When she showed up to my shop I got angry that she was back so soon. Rhys wanted me to do a check up on her and all I saw was a tiny cut on her back so I thought she'd be fine and I just wanted her to leave." She continued to explain.

Nesta was fuming by this point. Not only because of what she did to her friend but also because she didn't see through Clara sooner.

"Wait wait wait, all this is happening to Y/N because you're jealous of her? What kind of vile creature are you?" Cassian seathed.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen-" She began to plead when Azriel appeared in the room again.

------

Rhys re-entered your mind, this time with Azriel's shadows being a protective barrier around him. It was way easier this time but he wasn't sure how long Az could hold it.

"Alright, start." Rhys told Madja.

The healer began her work. Unweaving the venom from your powers, from your soul. She was about halfway through when Rhys called out.

"STOP! I can feel her fading!" Rhys was panting, he was exerting all his energy.

Madja pulled out, confusion taking over.

"This doesn't make sense. It's as if another energy is pulling her powers. Like an untouched ball of energy using up the rest of her." She explained.

"What do we do?" Azriel questioned.

"It needs another energy form to pull from..." She started.

"My shadows." He whispered.

Before anyone could stop him he sent them out to you and that little ball inside of you immediately began to absorb them. He screamed out in pain and Rhys and Madja quickly began to work.

It took only a few moments more for Madja to finish yet it felt like an eternity for the two males. It had been way easier now that Az was distracting whatever it was inside of you. The venom was successfully extracted and the room was eerily quiet. Rhys and Az both fell back, feeling drained from using their powers in such a way.

"Why isn't she waking up?" The shadowsinger whispered, making his way toward you.

"It must have to do with whatever is deep inside her. I need to do a full body work up on her to see what is going on." She spoke and started right away.

Az felt a tear slide down his cheek and quickly brushed it away. The High Lord stayed back to give you space to be checked out but he felt the same as the male next to him, worried and hopeless.

It felt like an eternity when Madja spoke up again.

"There is a substance inside her nose. Almost like a powder but I haven't seen it before. I'll have to take it back with me to break the molecules down. I'm afraid Y/N will have to stay in this state for now." She told the two males.

Azriel's head shot toward Madja at her words.

"Wait, did you say a powder was in her nose?" He muttered.

She just nodded her head in response, holding up the sample she collected. Your words from earlier popped into his head.

"Y/N told me 'she blew some powder in my face which caused everything'." Azriel stated coldly and winnowed away.

------

The shadowsinger appeared in front of Clara, his shadows surrounding her and pinning her against the wall. She shrieked in either pain or fear but he didn't care. You were in danger and he would stop at nothing to help you.

"What did you blow in Y/N's face?" He demanded.

"What?!" She feigned innocence.

Azriel held up the vial of powder close to her face. His shadows squeezed tighter around her frame.

"It's nothing serious," She weezed out, "It's a mix of vamire, spitfire aconite, and root of igranium. All it's supposed to do is heighten the pain/sickness they already have. I had an antidote that I gave her. It's in my bag."

Mor quickly grabbed the bag from the female, searching for both the powder and the antidote. She handed them both to Az.

"And why would you posion her just to give her an antidote?" Cass asked.

"I wanted to impress Azriel." She whimpered looking down.

"What's in the antidote?" Az shouted at her making her flinch.

"A..Adlirin and G..G..Green Gilliflower." She sputtered in terror.

The shadows left along with their master and she fell to the floor.

------

"Both of these are in her system," Az spoke holding the vials, "Vamire, Spitfire Aconite, Root of Igranium, Aldirin, and Green Gilliflower."

Madja's eyes grew wide and a bad feeling shot through both Az and Rhys at her reaction.

"This isn't good." She said, looking over your unconscious form.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll

[cyrdling]

Lovey (Jason Todd x Reader Oneshot)

a/n: i really hope i wasn't gone too long, lol. hope you guys like the blog retheming! for the story, reader is broke and lives in a shitty apartment.

now, you didn't know jason todd was the red hood. how were you supposed to know that the total hunk with mysterious scars all over and a tendency to leave in the middle of the night was a fucking vigilante? okay, yeah, maybe you were a bit oblivious. but nobody could blame you for it, since you were slaving away at your job and you lived in gotham, for goodness sake. if you had one week without some random attack by the local crazies, you could count yourself lucky. this meant that the time you had outside of work and city-wide emergencies was very, very little- you couldn't really sleep all that much, and you couldn't do any of your hobbies. in essence, you weren't really living- just surviving. no time to think about pretty boy jason, or to figure out how to lie about being fine.

despite your oblivious nature, you knew jason was incredibly observant. you didn't need to know he was a vigilante (which, by the way, he still teases you for) to know that he's very aware of his surroundings. he takes care to be very, very aware of where you are- other things he doesn't really care about. he wants to make sure he knows where you are so he doesn't hurt you if you startle him. he just wants to be as gentle with you as possible. however, because of his observance, he's noticed something is up with you.

he wakes up in the morning to you rushing to get ready for work, remembering how late you went to bed last night. he decides to say something.

"sweetheart, why are you going to work? you slept so late last night," he practically mumbles. he has to keep his voice quiet, or else you might notice the soft little whine to it- he just wants to cuddle and keep you close, so not being able to absolutely breaks his big heart.

"sorry, jay- i need to work, i won't be affording this apartment and i can't miss a day just because i'm too tired. i know you'll miss me, baby, but i'll be back before you know it," you tell him, speaking at a volume normal to you, sure, but the quiet paradise of your bedroom was practically shaking from the sound. jason sighs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes to try and guilt you into staying. you're his little angel, he wants to hug you like a teddy bear while he curls up under your blankets.

you sigh, kissing him on the lips, while his adorable tactic doesn't help his case. then, you grab your phone, and leave. he sighs, deep and tired, as he pulls out his phone to check the time before he gets up. he goes through his morning routine without you- brushing his teeth, combing his hair, putting on his sweats and a tee shirt, eating a balanced breakfast (which he's very sure you didn't do, because the one he made for you and put in the fridge is untouched) and then sitting down in front of the television to think about you.

now, jason doesn't think about you every second of every day- he has to figure out how to save the city, after all- but he definitely comes close. he'll be walking down the street and see some items you might like, in a little storefront. he's watching television, and an ad for that one show you like shows up, and he looks to his side to talk about it with you, but you're not there. he decides that if he wants you to be happier, he'd have to do a lot of work.

first, he goes to the grocery store and buys all the stuff you're running out of, and stuff you've said you wanted to try but never had the funds. he even gets a couple extra things he thinks you might like, too, even if you've never said anything about them. he racks up quite the bill, but it's fine- bruce will pay for it.

second, he goes to a furniture store to replace your ratty couch and get you something cute and nice. he gets you some insanely expensive furniture, especially in comparison with what you bought for yourself, and even got you a couple knickknacks from an antique store nearby. like the first bill jason got, bruce will, once again, pay for it.

last, he goes to the wayne manor. there's some things he wants to get that he can't exactly buy- mainly sentimental things- but he wants to show you that he's making an effort to trust you, and turn your apartment into a home. he gets some framed photos off the walls of his old bedroom, some books, and other little things that he thinks you might find cute. while he's carrying his huge bag of goods, he comes across bruce. they stare each other down for a while, and bruce speaks first.

"is this for your partner?" he asks, stern voice bouncing off the walls and buzzing in jason's skull.

jason smirks, "yeah. what's it to you?" the last word ending in a slight raise of his voice.

bruce sighs. "nothing. just tell me the next time you plan to spend that much money in one day," with that, he turns and leaves- a barely imperceptible smile on his face at the fact that finally, finally jason has found someone to love.

jason hops in his car- he couldn't trust himself to carry that much on his bike, let's be honest- and drives back to your apartment. he drags all his luggage up to your floor, struggling only slightly to open your door. thankfully, all of the furniture he got was delivered- thank goodness for money- and he just took a few trips to carry it up (and also had dick help some).

with all of these things in his sight, he suddenly became insecure. what if you didn't like the foods he got you? what if you didn't like the furniture, or thought the stuff from his childhood room was stupid?

he heard footsteps down the hall.

heard someone fiddling with their keys.

heard the door opening.

you came in, and saw him in the center of a long day of work- his eyes widen, and he greets you- nervously, stuttering a little, just a bit too loud for the situation.

"hey, sweetheart- um- i got you some things," he sighs, almost defeated. oh god, you're gonna hate him. you're gonna leave him for someone who knows what gifts to get you, who knows how to talk to you about things. he feels his palms going clammy, his heart thundering away in his chest, his lungs struggling for air- wait, why are you smiling? you're not supposed to be smiling. does this mean you're happy with this? you laugh, and he feels his heart shoot directly through the upper floors of your apartment and into the stratosphere. he's sure you'd be losing your security deposit for that, but he can't bring himself to care. he'd pay for it, a million times over, just for you.

with his help, you put all of the food away, throw out your ratty couch, rearrange the furniture, and set up the knickknacks and sentimental items around the place. the entire way through, though, jason stares at you starstruck- if you look close enough, you might be able to see the hearts forming in his eyes. he, in his ever-helpful wisdom, told you to quit your job. when you ask why, he only told you one thing- and he kept repeating it whenever you'd ask.

he'd tell you, "it's my job to take care of you, lovey. i'll pay for it," his eyes full of love and his thumb caressing your cheek. he is quite the partner, ain't he?

please reblog if you enjoyed this one!! i definitely had a lot of fun writing it!

[the-fab-fox]

This is so true. I recently saw a recipe for a really healthy meal on a recipe blog. I clicked the author's name and found my way to their actual domained website. In their about, I found the email. I have emailed them asking if there was a way to do the recipe but in a crockpot due to the pretty unsafe environment I live in—due to the skuzzy way my roommate/Subletter acts, I don't feel safe using the kitchen. I have not received an answer but from my experience sending out emails to people one would not generally consider, I know one of two things will happen. They will simply not respond (that is to say ignore or disregard my email) or they will answer and let me know if it can be done or let me know they don't have the time or energy to offer that solution. And these two options aren't bad at all. There's no consequence.

So even if they *don't* answer, what's the problem with asking when the worst outcome is simply no answer. You're literally losing nothing no matter the outcome, and more times than you think you're gaining something.

A few more examples on this:

I'm very much a networker. I am a people person and really good at striking up random conversations with people. Been that way my whole life. I just love interacting and helping people. (I'm a customer service professional of 20 years if that says anything).

I also am pretty intermediate with computers and very good at writing resumes and cover letters for job resumes and things like that. A lot of that comes from the fact that when I was younger, if I wanted something that could only come from a specific person/company/entity/etc, I would search and research until I found the contact needed.

Sometimes I'd be pleasantly surprised, sometimes not. But I never lost anything by trying.

A few times I was pleasantly surprised:

I was/am really into Criminal Minds as a TV show. Got into it in my 20s. It's become a comfort show (as weird as that is for a show about a fictionalized Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI). I was thinking... What would it take to be a BAU agent. It's probably nothing like the show so what's it like really. So I went on USAjobs.gov to look into it. Found contact for FBI. Emailed with a well edited and professional email (yes, this is absolutely important if you want to be taken seriously—if anyone would like me to draft up an example of what that could look like in a specific scenario, I'm happy to help!) as well as I could at the age I was at (basically, write it as well written and professional as you know how at where you're at now—don't try to "sound" professional and use big words. Just write as you but more formal). Lo and behold, I got my answer and it was quite thorough and they even warned me that the team as is seen on the show is very over glorified and the BAU mostly consults from afar and very rarely goes into the field. Lol. But you still have to pass the entrance exams which include physical.

2nd time, around the same time. I was a member of a Matthew Gray Gubler (Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds) fan blog on Live journal. (Really aging yourself, here, Finley 🤣) Anyway. There was a movie we heard of that MGG would be in but no one knew if it was true or really happening or if the project was still in the works or had been stalled. I did a Google search, found the movies official page, found a contact email or form. I was consise in my subject line and consise in my email (my thinking was entertainment people are gonna be hella busy so put my inquiry in as little but still respectful and professional words as possible. I stated who I was, my experience leading to my question (in this case I said something along the lines of 'my name is Finley Beckett and I'm a member of a Mattew Gray Gubler fan blog. The group of us have been looking forward to the movie that if coming out but we haven't heard anything about it or whether it's still happening or not. I was hoping that you might be able to shine some light on this. Also, due to the questionable relience of the internet these days, would it be at all possible to send some kind of proof that you are indeed the people behind the movie. I won't share with the group, of course, but that way I can with 100% confidence, inform them of your response). And two or so days later I got an email from the director of the movie himself (and keep in mind this was a lower budget film and pretty sure straight to DVD so obviously this would likely not work with someone like say George Lucas or Christopher Nolan or Stephen Spielberg) emailed me back and gave me not only what has been happening as far as movie production but as well as a few production stills that included MGG within them.

I've gotten to correspond with two of my favorite novelists due to finding their websites and through those, their contacts. (Business inquiry emails count as contacts). And one of them, probably my favorite author of all time (Tamora Pierce) even looked over some of my writing at the time and gave me some really great feedback. To this day I cherish this moment even if I've lost the email to time.

Ultimately, the biggest advice I can give on this sort of thing is best summed up in this quote:

"You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Even though there is only a 1-5% probably of scoring."

— Wayne Gretzky (not Michael Scott 🤣)

And I left in the second part because it confirms what I've said. Like yes, there's only a 1-5% chance of getting something out of reaching out, especially in this day and age.

That said, if you never try, that percentage stays at 0%. Full stop.

You're already at 0%, so it would make more sense if you tried because even if you fail, you're already at 0% so you've literally got nothing to lose, right?

IDK if any of this will help but I wanted to try just the same. (See what I did there? 😉)

[fayecreates]

Naked in Manhattan

A/N: pls send requests, i need them for my shitty trip. (A little update 2 days later) im gonna cry my eyes out if i have to stay her for any longer.

Premise: Teen!Vi x teen!reader, being unlikely friends, having a sleepover together and that leads to a bit of silly stuff (NOTHING WEIRD JUST KISSING)

Warnings: uh kissing? Idk, dont read this if you’re like 30 cuz thats a little weird. Probably a wrong description of friday the 13th, i watched it like 5 years ago so idk all i know is theres a sex scene at the start.

To put it simply, you were a weird kid. From 1st grade to now you didnt have many friends. It wasnt horrible, it was honestly pretty nice. Less drama to worry about and more time to get your homework done so you can do whatever you want. That was until you met Vi.

She was a pretty sociable person, not like happy to talk constantly, just unafraid of interaction. You both sat by each other during biology, it came to you easily but with Vi it took a little more time… after a while she started to ask for your help. It was never a demand to do her homework, and you could tell that she was really struggling. It started with a few short explanations, to a few short conversations about the shitty teacher, to plans to hang out afterschool. It was all so fast for you, was this even how friendships started? Either way it was fine, not like you could call it off when you’re 5 minutes away from her house.

Your heart raced at the thought of even being in her house. Was it weird to dress up for this? Were your pajamas appropriate? What would her house look like? You sat in the backseat of the car, gripping onto the strap of your bag for dear life, contemplating if it was even normal to be this nervous. I mean you were acting like you were going on your first date, and it’d be weird to date another girl, right? I mean Vi was pretty but wasn’t in a romantic way, maybe… your racing thoughts were cut off by the sudden stop of the car. You quickly got out, making sure you had all your stuff on you.

After talking to Vi’s dad Vander for a little, you sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, looking around like you about escape. She had a few posters, most of some boxers you didn’t know and some rock bands you also didn’t know. Her room was messy but you can see that she attempted to clean up a bit. It was a little after 9pm, Vi was talking to her dad about watching some movies on the TV. A part of you wanted to beg to be picked up and the other wanted to stay forever.

“Alright, you up to watch some horror movies?” Vi said with a smirk on her face, holding up a few CDs of shitty shock value horror. You smiled, standing up and walking quickly to living room together.

You both sat on the couch together, a space between the two of you. “Okay… Friday the 13th or Hellraiser?” She asked with a daring look on her face as she held both them up. You pointed to Friday the 13th, i mean you’ve heard about it more so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Vander was out going to the store, and Powder was out for the night by now. Vi put the CD in and you both sat watching. Maybe you spent a little too much time caring about if your posture was bad or if you should hold something, but as soon as the opening scene came on you didn’t know how to act. Seeing the people move in such a manner to mimic sex, you knew it was probably not real but it made you blush a bit. As you listened to the faux moans, you felt weird. You imagined yourself as the girl for a minute, it wasn’t too enjoyable compared to imagining the both of you there. But you wouldn’t do that with Vi, that would be weird, right. Safe to say you stayed silent for the rest of the movie, barely even getting scared if you excuse jumping a few times.

After it had ended you sort of just spaced out. Vi took a notice of that, assuming you were just scared or something. “…you wanna watch something easier?” She said after a second of silence, you just nodded. She quickly got up to look through CDs again, finally landing on Mean Girls to cleanse your palate. Putting in and watching felt a bit better. You both made fun of them and laughed with each other, it was weirdly bonding. The clock hit 11pm, you guys were a bit closer on the couch. You looked to Vi at a funny part, seeing if she would laugh, you didn’t know why seeing her smile made your heart race. Your eyes met and she smiled at just you, but you felt like you were caught stealing something so you quickly looked away.

The movie ended and Vander came back, telling you both to go to bed. You both obliged, even though you shared a small look, knowing you’d stay up until you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You both sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, attempting to think of something to do. “Maybe we could play truth or dare?” You ask, it was stereotypical but it was a fun game, theoretically. Vi lit up, like it was the idea of a century. “I’ll start, truth or dare?” Vi said with a smile, holding her pillow in her lap. “Truth?” You were bit unsure, still anxious if all your actions were okay. “Okay… who’s your celebrity crush?” Vi asks with the same smile plastered on her face. You thought long and hard, you couldn’t say some like Kristen Stewart or any other girl, that would make it so tense. “…uh… whoever the actor is for Elvira…” you say, hesitant but you couldn’t lie. Lying would be worse than making it awkward. She looked a bit shocked. “Really? You like girls?” She says like it just unexpected rather than weird. “I dont know… i mean probably.” You say, trying to push off the topic, it wasn’t something for you to decide right now, or you just told yourself that. It was silent and awkward for a moment, well for you. You forgot it was your turn. “Oh, truth or dare?” You say quickly, attempting to completely forget, or at least think of a way to give yourself short term memory loss. “Truth.” She says, her smile still unmoving. “Uh… have you ever dated someone?” You ask, a little hesitant. The warm light of a lamp illuminated Vi’s face, it was covered in scars but it was pretty to you. “No, datings for losers.” She says with a laugh, it was unexpected though. Someone so nice, so pretty, i mean you would totally date her— never mind. “Truth or dare.” Vi says, her voice daring. You couldn’t pick truth again, it’d a pussy move. “Dare.” You said with a surge of confidence. It was a moment of silence as Vi contemplated what dare to give her.

“I dare you to kiss me.” Vi says with a smirk, like she knew you wouldn’t do it. Your face became hot as can be. You froze for a minute, it was so weird to even think about doing that with any girl, let alone Vi. You didn’t know if it was a sudden rush of adrenaline or what, all that you did know was the feeling of Vi’s lips pressed against yours. You held the side of her cheek, as if she would leave if you let go. Vi was surprised, well that was before she responded with ten times the amount of force in the kiss. Almost straight up knocking you down, her hands falling to your shoulder and your waist. After a minute that felt way too long, she broke the kiss. Your insides felt crazy, you had never felt like this ever. Her smile was so wide as she stared into your eyes, your own expression just being plain shocked.

“…was that too much?” Vi asked, you shook your head maybe a bit too much. You started to smile, the warm feeling growing in your stomach. With only the smallest bit of hesitance she kissed you once more, well it was more like a hundred small kisses, but it lasted forever. Her hand that was planted on your waist gently moved upwards onto your ribcage, feeling your heart race. On the other hand, yours were stuck like they were weighed down with concrete. It was awkward, intense as well, she prodded her tongue onto your lips just a bit, as if asking for entrance. You separate your lips a smidge, her tongue quickly entering. It was awkward, you let out a few weird noises, she almost passed out from lack of oxygen. After breaking the kiss, you both sat there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do next.

“Uh… that was nice…” Vi says with a flushed face and a dorky smile. You nodded, you had never once expected to make out with anyone, let alone a girl. It was nice, very nice.

[azrielsdove]

Nothing but Hate: Azriel x Rhysand!Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Slight Eris x Reader

***

You grinned wickedly at the male in front of you, a dagger held tight in each hand. His golden eyes flashed with warning, hands lit up blue. You circled each other slowly, each sizing up the other.

You moved first, flinging a dagger towards his stomach. A flash of blue met the blade, disintegrating it in front of your eyes. Your smile dropped from your face, and you threw the second one rashly. It missed, as you knew it would. You groaned, hands coming up to cover your eyes.

“You’re up here to train,” Azriel chided, “so why don’t you act like it?”

You dropped your hands and turned to glare at him. “Has it ever occurred to you I have more important things to do than this?”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Like what? Organizing your pretty little ball gowns? Polishing your countless tiaras?”

“I provide valuable intel to this Court,” you said, slowly looking him up and down. “Something you could learn a thing or two about.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do my job well. Your brother would not keep me employed if I didn’t. Or do you doubt the judgement of the High Lord?”

You gave a dramatic pout. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings? I care not what my brother does with you and that other brute. I was raised to gather information under the guise of a sweet, innocent lady.” You made a show of batting your eyes, lips in an exaggerated pout. “Males crumble far too easily.”

Rhys had been trying to get you and Azriel to get along for the better part of the last century. Something about him irked you to your bones. Cassian wasn’t much higher ranked in your mind, but you could at least tolerate him. You felt you would never know why your brother had latched on to these two idiots.

“You think rather highly of yourself, princess.” He spoke your title like it was an insult.

“I don’t see any great cause for why I should not,” you shot back, head high. You knew exactly what you were worth.

“Stuck-up brat.”

“You enjoy being my brothers bitch?”

Azriel opened his mouth to retort when he was cut off by a sharp yell.

“Enough!”

The two of you turned to see Rhys storming into the training ring. “I cannot think with you going at it like little children!”

“Well if he-“

“Rhys, she’s-“

“I said, ENOUGH.” Rhys stopped in front of you, hands coming to massage his temples. “You are being insufferable. I will not listen to your ceaseless bickering any longer. Figure out how to get along, or you will both be reassigned to the training camps.”

You and Azriel gave sounds of protest, quieted by Rhys holding up a hand. “I do not wish to hear it. I’m giving you one last chance. If you complete this mission without trouble I will allow you to yell at each other as much as you want. Otherwise, say goodbye to your nice little lives here.” He looked pointedly at the both of you. “Am I understood?”

You both grumbled your agreements, waiting to be given instruction. “Good. Now, I need you to go to Autumn. Beron is hosting a ball this coming week, and I need intel on what it is he’s doing. I do not trust the Vanserra’s, especially with Lucien’s recent departure.” He frowned deeply. “His father is a truly evil man. I want eyes on him.”

You and Azriel nodded, understanding the importance of this mission. Regardless of how you felt about each other, Rhys was right about the evil that runs the Autumn Court.

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror, a deep dread weighing down on you. You ran your hands over the front of your gown, watching the minuscule diamonds in the black fabric sparkle in the light. It was a stunning garment by all accounts, with the flowing skirts and romantic off-shoulder neckline. You looked every part the Night Court Princess, simply attending a ball as a Lady should.

Accompanied by…Azriel.

A knock at the door reminded you of his irritating presence. You walked over to open it, silver heels tapping on the ground.

“Are you-“ He began, stopping as he looked you over. You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your face.

“Speechless, Shadowsinger?” You quipped, winking at him. That brought him back to reality and he rolled his eyes before begrudgingly holding an arm out for you to take.

“I would almost say you’re beautiful, but then you had to go and open that annoying little mouth of yours.” You pinched his arm under your hand, though you noted that the usual bite behind his words wasn’t all there.

This night was extremely important to the both of you. You had to figure out a way to work together. Neither one of you wished to go to the training camps, far away from your home. It sent a chill down your spine to recall the ways you were treated anytime you were at them, and you didn’t dare to think what it would be like if you were there alone. Truthfully, you were a little angry with Rhys for this level of threat. Was the punishment equal to the crime?

“Let’s just get this over with, Azriel.” You were looking forcibly ahead, otherwise you would have seen the worry that flitted over his face.

***

Evil as Beron was, he knew how to throw a party. The ballroom of the Autumn Court castle was dressed to the gods, golden elegance dripping from every inch. The male himself sat on an intricate wooden throne, a crown sat atop his head. His sons stood in a line next to him, each dressed in varying shades of orange and red. You carefully surveyed the room, putting on a show like you were admiring the decor.

Beron took note of you quickly, standing to loudly welcome you. “Princess! Come, let me introduce you to my sons.” You gave a shy smile and made your way over to him, playing the role Rhys had instructed you to. “Your brother tells me he is interested in a possible match between our Courts,” Beron continues, too loud for comfort. You knew the offer of your hand would go to his head. The elusive, dark, Night Court heiress betrothed to one of his sons? How could he resist?

You gave a small nod, glancing over at his sons lined up like prizes for you to select. “I am honored that you would deem me a good match for any of your sons, my lord.” You could almost feel the laugh Azriel held back at your demure tone.

Beron smiled widely, placing a hand on your back to lead you to the line of males. “Eris, my eldest and likely heir, would be your most advantageous match,” he drawled. Eris held his hand out for yours, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“It is an honor to be considered by the Princess of Night.” His voice dripped with honey-like sweetness, a gleam in his eyes that drew you in. You couldn’t help the light blush that crossed your cheeks in his presence.

“The honor is all mine,” you said with a curtsy, biting your lip when you looked back up at him.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, as gentlemanly as expected. You bowed your head in agreement before letting him lead you out to the dance floor.

A shadow swirled briefly around your ankles, a subtle sign from Azriel. As annoying as he was, you knew you could trust him to keep you from danger. You made a point to catch his eye over Eris’ shoulder, a silent gesture that you understood his message.

Eris placed one hand on your waist and held yours in the other, a proud smile on his face. You allowed yourself to be immersed in the music, following his every move like you’d spent hours practicing together.

“Have you been to this Court before?” He asked you, spinning in a circle. “You do not look familiar.”

You shook your head, giving him a small laugh. “My brother does not like it when I travel far without him.” A sweet, innocent answer.

“He does not trust you, then?”

“No, I would not say so. He simply…worries, doesn’t he?” You tilted your head in the direction of the other sons. “Do you not worry for your brothers?”

Something flickered in his eyes as he looked over, an unspoken pain. “Them? No.” He looked back at you. “Not those ones.” You understood what he was saying, the unspoken message behind his words. The brother he worried for was long gone, away in Spring. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know you understood.

Eris spun you out and pulled you in, your back hitting his chest as his arms wrapped around you. He bowed his head enough for his breath to tickle your neck, your body giving an answering shiver. “You’re not like the other High Court ladies,” he whispered in your ear, before spinning you back out and away.

You turned into him again, his hand coming back to its spot on your waist. “And you are not like other High Court lords,” you responded with a playful smile.

“How so?”

“Well, usually they hardly ever let me speak,” you laughed when you said it, playing it off like a joke.

“Hmm,” he said, the hand on your waist sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you in closer, “then they do not know the enjoyment they are missing.” 
The song had ended, the two of you left standing there improperly close. You were lost in his eyes, in the secrets he held in them. He leaned down and for half a second you believed he was going to kiss you.

And you were going to let him.

Instead he moved to whisper, “Would you like to see something special?” You nodded, and allowed him to lead you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you that running off with a male you did not know was not the safest choice, but Eris made you feel safe. You could only hope his actions matched his words.

You were pleasantly surprised when he lead you to a library, books up to the ceiling. Everything was made of dark wood, shelves as if the trees simply grew that way. A roaring fire warmed the room, the smell of cinnamon and old parchment welcoming. “Oh, Eris,” you said in awe, “it is beautiful.”

He came up behind you as you stood in the center of the room, lost in the beauty around you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed flat over your stomach, the other resting on your arm. He bent his head again, lips millimeters from the bare skin of your shoulder. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into him, the mission you were on long forgotten.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” he hummed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Not many care to come here. My father especially.” You felt the angry twitch in his fingers at the reminder of his father. You turned your head to look up at him, recognizing the longing in his expression.

“I am sorry,” you began, “about Lucien. I imagine that has been hard on you. Being forced to pretend you do not care.” He stayed quiet, looking at you with an intensity you had never experienced. Like it was the first time anyone had seen him.

“You are not what I thought you would be,” he whispered, before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He kissed you with the passion of a thousand suns, his mouth moving with yours in their own dance. You turned in his arms to press your chest flush against his, your arms twining around his neck as you pulled him closer. Eris groaned at your touch, one hand coming to tangle its way into the hair at the back of your head.

He started moving the two of you until your back hit one of the bookshelves, never breaking the kiss. Tongues created art as the two of you lost yourselves in each other. “Eris,” you moaned when he moved his lips off yours, instead running them up and down the skin of your neck. He growled in response, one hand slowly gathering the skirts of your dress. Your breath was coming in fast spurts, his teeth dragging along your skin making you forget everything you were supposed to be doing.

“Say my name like that again,” he murmured against your skin, your skirts up high enough that he could slide one hand onto your thigh.

You opened your mouth to oblige when he was suddenly ripped off of you, the stark coldness of reality washing over you. You were stunned, still panting against the bookshelf as you took in the scene in front of you.

Eris was thrown backwards, slumped against the shelf across from you. You started to rush towards his unconscious form, concerned for him. You knelt by his side, gently laying his limp body all the way down as you looked over him for any serious injuries.

“Oh, give it up,” came an angry voice, and you shot your head towards Azriel.

“What is your problem?” You yelled, standing once you ensured Eris was otherwise okay.

“My problem? My problem? Maybe it’s the fact that we were sent here on a job, and you are too busy whoring yourself out to care!” He was glaring at you, shadows swirling angrily around him.

“You’d better rethink your words, Shadowsinger,” you warned, dark lightning flickering at your fingertips.

“Relax, princess. Rhys is calling us back.” He looked over at Eris on the ground. “Sorry to interrupt your little…moment,” he said, sounding not very sorry at all. You looked sadly back at Eris, worry still creeping in your mind. Azriel noticed, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be fine. We will not be if we do not go,” he emphasized, grabbing on to your arm.

“Fine.”

The two of you hastily winnowed back home, Azriel flying once your powers grew weary. You did not inherit the Illyrian wings from your mother, much to your dismay. Especially in this moment, in which you had to be in Azriel’s arms as he flew you high above the ground.

“What did you see in him?” He asked, breaking the chilly silence that had ensued since you left the Autumn Court.

“What?” You asked, shocked by his question.

“I mean, they’re evil, aren’t they? The Vanserras?”

You looked out over the night sky, quiet for a moment. “I believe some of them are. I believe Eris pretends to be.”

“I see,” Azriel mused. “But…why choose him?” You turned to look at him, puzzled.

“Azriel, are you jealous?” You teased, waiting for him to act disgusted.

Instead he remained silent, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. You stared at him for a long time, processing the underlying meaning in his actions. “Az?”

He reacted then, looking at you sharply. You had never called him by that name. “I do not know what you mean,” he finally said.

The rest of the flight was done in silence.

You were thankful when you finally landed back at the House of Wind, the marble under your shoes a welcome feeling. A cool nights breeze blew through the balcony as you turned to Azriel.

“Well, thank you for not abandoning me in the Autumn Court,” you joked, trying for a smile.

His expression stayed stoic. “I would never have left you.”

You blinked at the intensity of his words. It was then that you noticed how closely he was standing to you, how he was looking at you. It was rather similar to the way Eris had looked before he had…

You backed away abruptly, stumbling slightly in your heels. Azriel caught you smoothly around the waist, hand burning you through the fabric of your dress.

“Azriel,” you whispered, “Rhys did not call us back, did he?”

“No.”

“Ah.” Your body was trembling in his grasp, a barrier dangerously close to being crossed as he tugged you flush against him, his nose tracing the slope of your neck. “Then why did you say he did?”

His hands fisted the material beneath them as he inhaled your scent. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You hated the way you were reacting to him, the fire coursing through you. It was entirely different than the way you had felt with Eris. This was more. Much more. You took a shaky breath before asking the question you already knew the answer to.

“Couldn’t stand what?”

Azriel brought his head up, eyes boring into yours. A century of untold feelings swam behind them. “I couldn’t watch him touch you any longer,” he began, one hand coming up to caress your throat. “It was driving me crazy. His lips on your skin, his hands on you.” His thumb rolled across your pressure point, pressing down ever so slightly. An embarrassingly needy noise fell from your lips. “Gods,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “I’ve held back for so long. Forcing my feelings down,” he started kissing down your throat, down your shoulder. Following the same path Eris had left a mere few hours before. “I chose to become your enemy instead, someone you couldn’t stand,” he bit down on your shoulder, dragging a soft moan from you as his tongue soothed the marks his teeth left. “But watching him touch you? The way I should be? No,” he laughed cruelly, dropping to his knees in front of you. You looked down at him in shock, heart racing at the hunger in his eyes. “I couldn’t let him have you.”

You reached behind you for the railing of the balcony, grasping onto it like it was your lifeline. “Azriel,” you whispered, watching him lift the bottom of your skirts. He kissed your bare ankle, eyes catching yours once more.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Yet the both of you knew you weren’t going to. His lips continued their transgressions up your leg, painfully slow. He was leaving dark marks in his wake, a reminder that he was there. Your hand twisted in his hair when he reached the top of your thigh, leaving one final mark for you to see in the morning. “Az,” you gasped, feeling as though you were going to erupt into flame at any moment. “Please.”

He smiled wickedly at you, tearing your underwear off of you a moment later. You gave a small shriek at the action, eyes wide as you looked at the torn garment. He allowed you no chance to comment, his mouth on you before you even knew what to say.

“Oh,” you moaned, head falling backwards. His tongue swirled around you like you were the most delicious desert he had ever tasted. He sucked onto your clit, ripping a loud cry of his name from you. You were lost in the haze of lust and pleasure, all the years of anger and hate gone as if they never existed.

He continued the sins he was committing with his tongue while his fingers ran up to join. You moaned his name again and again as one pushed inside of you, curling in the exact spot you needed it to. Cool shadows swirled around your burning skin, a sensation so intense you weren’t sure you could handle it. He added a second finger, stretching you pleasurably. “Azriel, I, oh, Az,” you gasped out, unable to form coherent thought. He kept his movements steady as one shadow wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to moan again.

Eris was long gone from your mind.

Azriel continued working you, clearly pleased by the increasing volume and intensity in which you were saying his name. You knew you were close, forcing your orgasm at bay as long as possible. You wanted to live in this moment forever. He touched you like he had studied you for years, like he knew exactly what would make you tick. In his hands you were nothing but clay for him to mold, creating the beautiful sculpture that was this moment. Your body began to shake as he kept steady, thrusting his fingers in and out of you while humming against your clit.

That was all you needed to explode against him.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your head thrown all the back, mouth open in a silent scream. Stars exploded behind your eyes, the sensation of your orgasm rolling through you. Azriel pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling as long as possible. He didn’t cease his actions until you were gasping for air, his name falling from your lips like a beautiful song. Only then did he slowly pull away from your wrecked body, standing to hold you steady.

One hand came to gently cup your face, thumb running lovingly over your cheek. “How long?” You asked, leaning into his touch.

“Since the first day I met you.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Then why lie? Why battle me for so long?”

He looked guilty, moving to rest his forehead on yours. “You are his sister. I was scared.” He took a shuddering breath. “It was too risky. You were off limits, you see. He had explicitly told Cassian and I to not even think about it,” he gave a humorless laugh. “Being around you was overwhelming. Everything in me was screaming for you. I had originally decided to just be friends, that I would settle for that.” The arm around your waist tightened. “But even that was too much. I needed you, and the longer I went without you the more i began to lose it.” His eyes turned sad. “I had to push you away.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “Sometimes I hate my brother,” you whispered, a century long confession on the tip of your tongue. “For it has been the same for me all these years. So long, in fact, I forgot why I started to dislike you in the first place.” With that, you closed the remaining space between you, pressing your lips to his.

A hundred years of lost emotion poured from the both of you, holding on to each other like you may disappear. You kissed Azriel like this was the only chance you had, allowing him to open your mouth with his.

Passion flowed between the two of you, the taste of yourself on his tongue reigniting the fire under your skin. He whispered your name over and over against your lips, like a prayer he had been longing to say. In that moment the two of you were the only ones who existed.

“Well, this is most certainly not what I meant when I said I wanted you to get along.”

Your eyes shot open as you pulled your lips from Azriel’s, looking widely at your rather angry brother. “I, uh, hello, Rhys,” you stuttered, taking a step away from Azriel. Who, in fact, was having none of that, and immediately pulled your lips from back into his arms.

“Rhysand,” he said coolly.

“I would be careful with your tone if I were you, Azriel,” Rhys warned, anger simmering in him. “That is my sister.”

Azriel simply tightened his hold on you, capturing your lips in another kiss. “So she is.” He looked back at your brother. “Yet she is also my mate.”

Mate. Mate?

No.

Surely you didn’t spend a century warring with your fated mate, because your brother was too much of a hard ass to allow you to make your own choices?

No.

It couldn’t be.

And yet, at his declaration, you felt it in your soul. The golden bond tying the two of you together.

You glared at Rhysand.

“Brother, you and I will speak tomorrow.” Azriel leaned his head down to press a kiss against your neck, mumbling “or in a week.” You swatted him away, ignoring the laugh he let out. “But for now, you will go. I do not care where, but you will leave us be. Do you understand?”

Rhys stared at you in disbelief, not used to having someone else boss him around. “Well, I, but,” he spluttered, looking around the balcony as if for someone to save him. “You’re my sister!”

You gave him an exaggerated nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. I am. I am also fully grown and capable of making my own choices. Now, I suggest you leave.” Azriel happily began peppering kisses over your skin again. “Immediately.”

***

AHHHHHHH i absolutely LOVED writing this. happy 2025 friends. i hope you enjoyed <3

[teliphone]

Breathe

Kang Noeul x FemReader

Warning(s): Smut, fingering, slight overstimulation, Sub! Femreader 

Word Count: 2.9K 

-

You take a seat on the cold subway station bench to rest and wait for the next ride. You lean your head back against the stone wall. You’re at ease for a moment. Until the buzz of a notification on your phone makes your heart race. You knew what the message was even before looking at it. Reaching into your pockets, you pull out your phone. Your eyes read over the text quickly. 

‘Your card has been declined due to insufficient funds’ 

A deep sigh escapes your mouth. You close your eyes while gripping your phone. An anxious bubble forms in your stomach. 

How much longer will you stay in debt? It seems like no matter how much you work, you can never escape it. Rent… tax… food… everything has been sucking your wallet dry. Money has started to make you question your purpose in life. Is there a point in living if you’re working so hard yet still deep in debt? 

You shove your phone back into your pockets in an attempt to ignore the message. You do not need the reminder right now. Your phone buzzes a few more times, but you ignore it. All you want is to go home and rest from a busy day. 

From your peripheral vision, you see a figure getting closer to you. A person takes a seat next to you. You take a quick glance out of curiosity. It’s a man in a suit holding a briefcase. He looks harmless enough. You decide to ignore his presence and continue staring ahead. 

“Do you want to play a game?”

-

You feel a pressure dig into your lower hip. It felt like the tip of a cold metal. You try to turn your head to look, but the pressure deepens, making you wince. Another feeling touches your lower back, but this time it’s much softer. 

“Keep moving faster,” A deep robotic voice orders you from behind. You quickly realize it’s the voice of the pink guards. The guard's hand leaves your lower back and jerks the tip of the gun into your body again. You force yourself to take a step forward. The guard follows closely behind as you walk at a quick pace. You feel nervous, wondering where the pink guard is taking you. Anything could happen in a place like this. 

“Turn left,” The voice orders again. You obey and take a turn which leads you to a hallway with multiple red doors side by side. 

“Go to door eleven,” 

You quietly nod your head and make your way to the door. Nervously licking your lips as you reach for the door handle. You turn the knob and gently swing the doors open. You quickly notice a small bed, but before you can examine more you are suddenly shoved into the room. You catch yourself on the table and turn your body to face the guard. Your hand clenches the edge of the table. Chest moving up and down anxiously. You don’t dare to say anything or make a move. The guard stands still for a little while and you are unsure where they are looking. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Guard 011 assures. You furrow your eyebrows, still unsure and worried. The guard sighs and begins to remove their mask. They swiftly toss the mask to the side and you make eye contact. You immediately recognize her eyes. 

“N-Noeul?” You let out a gasp. She doesn’t respond but instead continues to take off the second head mask. She drops it at her feet. Her hair bangs are a little messy and sweaty. She runs her fingers through her hair while letting out a soft sigh of relief. Her eyes are tired and lack emotion. 

“What are you doing here?” She questions. The tone of her voice shows genuine curiosity. Silence coats the air as you try to find an excuse. An embarrassing blush forms on your cheeks. You avert her stare by looking at the bed. You hear her let out a sigh in frustration before she gets closer to you. Her glove fingers touch the edge of your chin. She grips and forces you to look at her. 

“I’m talking to you,” She reminds. 

“I… I’m in deep debt…” You confess. She furrows her eyebrows as she examines your face. You look pitiful and small under her gaze. She lets out a tsk sound of disapproval and disappointment. You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Disappointing her was the last thing you wanted to do. You quickly reach out to touch her arm. She glances down to see your fingers wrap around her bicep. 

“I swear just two games and I will be able to pay off my debt,” You explain with a light laugh. Her tired eyes look back up and you gulp. She wasn’t in the mood to play around. She walks past you without spearing you a second glance. She plops onto the bed and leans her body back. Her legs are spread apart as she stares at you with tired eyes. She starts taking off her gloves and tosses them aimlessly to the side.

“You ignored my texts,” She grumbles. You suddenly remember your phone buzzing multiple times last night. 

“Oh! That…I didn’t realize it was you,” You awkwardly laugh. An attempt to lighten the mood. Noeul continues not to smile. She tilts her head to the side. She decides to accept your excuse. 

“You’re stupid for putting yourself in this position,” She sighs, going back to the topic. You bite your bottom lip in shame. You look down onto the ground and play with the bottom of your heel. There is a moment of silence again. 

“…Are you not afraid of death?” She puzzles. You jerk your head up to look at her with wide eyes. She brings one of her hands to massage her thigh. She focuses on circling her fingers against her tense muscles rather than you. You feel a slight blush forming on your cheeks as you look at her position. 

“You realize you’re helping kill people,” You whisper. She stops massaging her thighs and lets out a dry chuckle. She leans back again and lifts her head. 

“I’m just doing what I’m asked to do,” She states, staring at you up and down slowly. You grip your fist and force yourself to look away. You’re lost for words. 

“Come here,” Noeul calls. The air is dense and you feel butterflies in your stomach. Your legs refuse to move. She lets out a soft giggle and runs her fingers through her hair. 

“You would rather die than listen to me,” She assumes. Your heart quickens and you shake your head no. Was that a warning? You feel a rush of adrenaline and fear. You immediately walk over and kneel against the floor by her legs. 

“No, that's not true. Please don’t think that,” You beg, placing your hands on her thighs. Her emotionless face peers down at you. She enjoys the scene of you kneeling and begging before her. She brings her hands up to gently brush your hair. You feel a shiver run down your spine when you realize her fingers are the ones pressing the trigger. Life and death rest upon her hand, yet here it is brushing your hair. Noeul could easily kill you at this spot, but you feel a wave of pride when you know she wouldn’t. 

You lean your head down to rest against her thighs. She continues to slowly brush your hair. You allow yourself to rest your eyes and get comfortable. But that only lasts for about three minutes before Noeul gets bored. Her fingers begin to grip your head and force you to look up. You wince a little in pain. Her heavy-lidded eyes gaze at your eyes and then to your lips.  

It’s a little sick and twisted that you also feel a little turned on in this situation. Risk has been a key factor here. A case of physiological reasoning arises. Someone who loves danger often takes risks. These trigger the brain to release adrenaline and other hormones, which leads to a state of excitement and euphoria. 

You look up at her, your cheeks turning pink. She slowly leans down to capture your lips. You shut your eyes and feel her soft plump lips press against yours. Her fingers let go of your hair and move down to your neck. Your lips move slowly against her. As if to cherish every second. 

You tilt your head, brushing your nose against hers. The kiss deepens and you let out a soft pant. You start to get up from your position and place your knees between the slot of her thighs. The angle has switched. You are now leaning down to capture her lips. You bring your hands up to cup her face. Your thumb swipes against her cheeks. Her hands naturally wrap around your hips, pulling you closer. Her wet lips slide easily against yours. She digs her fingers into your hip and you let out a soft pant. She pulls away from the kiss first to catch her breath. 

“Take off your clothes,” She orders as she leans back again. You get off the bed and shyly touch the hem of the green sweater. She watches closely and you feel nervous under her gaze. You start to lift the sweater over your head and swiftly take the sweatpants off. Then you start taking off your undergarments. The cold air prickles your skin. Noeul slightly bites her bottom lip before tapping her thighs. 

“Come on top,” She orders. You obey and slowly place yourself beside her thighs. Your knees are spread and your chest faces her. She slowly drags her fingers against your lower back before wrapping them on your chest. She cups it and squeezes it. 

“Cute,” She whispers. She tilts forward to lick your nipple. She swirls her tongue against the skin around the nipple and then back to sucking. You sigh and place your hands on her lower head. As she continues to suck and bite your boobs, she looks up. Her pupils are blown out. You smile and gently massage her head. You look at her between your lashes to watch her tongue brush against your nipple. Your stomach clenches and you moan. She shuts her eyes and sucks hard before letting go with a loud plop sound. She removes one hand from your chest and down to your stomach. She drags her fingers down your lower stomach and you bite your lip. 

She looks up again with her tired eyes. She waits for permission in which you let out a soft ‘yes’ moan. Her middle finger starts to rub the outside of your folds. The corner of her lips curled into a smirk. You’re more wet than she imagined. Her fingers move towards your clit and she circles it slowly. Your core leaks out a little more. She collects and coats your juices with her middle finger. Once she is satisfied with how wet you’ve become, she presses onto your clit. You let out a soft moan and jerk your hips into her hands. She continues to circle your clit over and over. She returns to biting your chest, leaving red marks on the soft skin. 

She lets you move your hips against her finger. Your clit brushes her middle and ring finger. You let out a choking moan as the pleasure begins to build. Your wet clit slides easily. In the midst of you grinding her hand, her fingers accidentally slip into your core. You gasp and grip onto her shoulders. Pausing to catch your breath. The feeling of her fingers filling your hole felt too good. 

“Why’d you stop,” She challenges. Her two fingers rest at the tip of your core. You bite your lips as you sit back down onto her fingers. You let out a moan at the feeling of her filling you up. You start to slowly move again. She feels your hot core sliding up and down her digits. She gets drunk off the sight of you. 

“Feels so good unnie,” You moan into her ears. Her eyes darken and she bites her lips. She wraps her free hand around your waist. 

“Hold on to me tighter,” She grunts. Before you can fully hold on, she starts moving her fingers at a quicker pace. You cry out and clench onto her. She snaps her wrist and deepens her finger in you. You choke out a cuss and she smiles. Wetness starts to coat down to her knuckles. Your hot gummy walls welcome her fingers so well. Your hair starts to stick onto your sweaty forehead. She bites down on your chest and curls her finger in you. You shut your eyes and continue chasing your high. Her fingers press into your walls over and over. She can feel you starting to clench. She loves the feeling of your wet cunt. She jerks her hand more aggressively. The tips of her fingers abuse your wall at a quick pace. You tilt your head back and let out a high-pitched cry. Your lower stomach can feel a strong orgasm coming ahead. After a few more strong thrusts, you come over her fingers. She moves her fingers to help you ride out your high. You grip her shoulders to signal her to stop moving. She pauses but keeps her fingers in you as you catch your breath. She kisses your shoulders and then towards your neck. You let out a soft hum. She leaves back to analyze your features.

You shiver and shake as she takes her fingers out of you. Your chest is moving up and down. She brings her fingers to her mouth and slowly licks them. Your juice coats her tongue and she moans. She needs more of you. 

“Lay down,” 

You widen your eyes, you don’t know if you can handle another round. Your core is still pulsing. She gently pushes you off her thighs. You take a seat on the bed. She starts taking off the pinkish-red suit. You gulp at her body figure. Her stomach is toned and she has slight muscles on her biceps. She slips off her underwear. You see a wet spot on her panties. She holds her panties in her hands. She walks and gives you a kiss. As she continues to kiss you, she gently pushes you down onto the bed. You can feel her core brush against yours. You moan into her mouth. She pulls away from the kiss and gets onto the bed. She spreads your legs and angles herself between you. You blush at the realization of what she’s about to do. 

She lowers herself till her core touches yours. Your wet and slippery core slides easily against her. She moans and jerks her hips faster, chasing for her own high. Her pace is brutal considering you just came not long ago. You moan loudly as her folds grind against your clit. 

“The walls are thin,” She warns. You couldn’t hear her clear from the buzz in your ear. All you could focus on was the way her hips thrust into you. You cuss loudly and she stops moving. She takes the panties from her hand and shoves it into your mouth. You can taste the faint salty and sweet taste of the cotton. Your moans become quieter. 

She starts moving her hips again but in a quicker manner. All the build-up stress she has been holding needs to be released. You’re the perfect solution. Wetness starts to spread down to your thighs. You hear her low grunts and moans. In the moment, you look at her. Her mouth is open slightly to release soft moans. Her hips snap against you over and over. Your core grinds against her clit at the right spot. She bites her lips and tilts her head back. She feels her high coming closer. Sweat starts to form on her forehead and collarbone. She grabs onto your thighs, nails digging into the soft skin. You try to speak, but the panties in your mouth muffle you. You attempt to tap her to slow down, but all that does is make her smirk and go faster. The bed moves and squeaks at each thrust. You shut your eyes and bite down on her panties. After a few more, she chokes out a moan and comes onto your core. She jerks her hips lazily to help you reach your high as well. You come shortly after. It hits you stronger than you expected. She watches you with heavy eyes. You’re gasping for air and your body is shaking.

“Breathe,” She cooes. She removes herself from between your legs. She leans over and brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead. She kisses the top of your head. She pulls her panties out of your mouth and drops them onto the ground. You rest your head on the soft plush of her thighs. She watches closely to your chest moving up and down slower.

“Don’t die out there,” She warns. You slowly nod your head and feel the sleepiness kicking in. You knew the risk you were taking when you entered the game. She cares for you though she never expresses it through her face. She allows you to take a short nap as she stares at the gun resting on the wall. Her fingers brush your hair in slow streaks. She holds the power of your life in her hands. She is not going to allow your last breath to be from a game. She'll break the rules to let you live if she has to. 

[starmocha]

i'm on the run with you, my sweet love [Sylus/Reader ★ 3737 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Forever your ride or die. A/N: Happy New Year! I’ve had this story written since Christmas 2024, but I had decided to save it to ring in the new year instead. Kind of based on my favorite Sylus phone call: As You Wish. This is…very………vague…….something…… I’m here for the vibes mostly. :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia 【 request to be added 】

When everything came to a pause, when the whole world had shifted and all eyes were on you, a bounty had been placed on your head and your name suddenly known to the whole universe.

He had whisked you away, his hand in yours, no questions asked.

Where you go, I’ll go with you, he had said, his hold firm, his vow unyielding.

It’s not safe with me. They’ll get you, too, you had warned, giving his hand a little squeeze, almost afraid that you would lose him as well.

Sounds exciting, sweetie.

He had smirked, his lips on yours, a promise that nothing would ever sever his bond with you.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, head pressed to his back, and the sound of his motorcycle raced down the dusty road to nowhere. A trail of dust was left behind, the heat of the sun bore down on you, and the unknown future awaited both of you in the distance.

On the way to the end of the world, you said goodbye to what you had once thought was home, all of the people who had ever loved you were gone.

Except him.

Are you crying?

…No…

Let me hold you. For me.

…Okay…just for you, though…

Thank you, sweetie.

In an unassuming shabby safehouse, one of many he owned around the world, you felt a moment of peace, as false as it may be.

He paced the living room, exhaustion etched on his features. He still hadn’t adjusted to this daytime schedule, and though not a word of complaint or discomfort ever left his lips, you knew he had been pushing himself to his limits to keep you safe.

Sylus, you called, worried, come rest.

He reassured you with a smile, a near perfect façade had it been anyone else he was trying to fool. You knew when he would put on a mask, and you didn’t like it—you were upset that he was lying to you for your sake.

I’m tired, you fibbed, Can we nap together?

Strange how you didn’t feel any qualms about lying for his sake instead. You supposed you were a hypocrite.

Very well. He seemed to concede. What a fussy kitten.

There was no malice in his words. There never were.

You guided his head to your lap, his body barely fitting on the small sofa, but it would do. You stroked his hair, seeing him surrendering to his exhaustion—surrendering to you, as well.

You hummed a song, something light and soothing. His soft snoring soon joined your melody, the two sounds bringing life to this long unoccupied house.

For a moment, this unassuming, shabby safehouse almost felt like a home.

It would be nice to make this place a true home with him, you thought. Some fresh flowers, a little sunlight, and maybe a picture or two could help with the illusion.

Such wishful thinking. You knew in a few days you would both need to leave. This was only temporary.

You needed to go farther—to the place where everything was new and you were nothing more than an unknown drifter seeking something permanent.

For now, though, you both rested. You let your song soothed him, just as his presence had given you hope.

You often wondered what permanent looked like. You also wondered if you and he had the same definition for the word. There were more idle times now than before, so you both humored one another with your own thoughts and whims.

A little cottage in the woods, you thought aloud as you and he lazed about on the couch. You could have a little vegetable garden, and maybe you could also learn how to make your own bread as well.

He could hunt, or perhaps, he could also put his fishing skills to use.

You might even raise chickens. Maybe some ducks, too.

Sweetie, you have it all planned out, he teased, pinching your cheek.

You swatted his hand away, but you couldn’t deny this. You had thought about this life. Thought about it often, in fact. You couldn’t help it. It seemed you had more time to let your mind wander.

Well, you weren’t alone. He also had his own thoughts, his own vision he wished to share.

A seaside house on a cliff, he suggested, adding, We could watch dolphins from the balcony. And have a gin fizz or two.

You laughed and shook your head. What, no tequila?

Tequila can be for breakfast, he added, matching your humor with the same tone and a playful smirk.

We could also have a hot tub on the deck, he added with a lecherous smirk on his handsome face. A nice soak as we watch the sun set over the horizon.

Yeah? Your heart beat faster, his lips looming near yours.

We could also stargaze together, he continued in that same easy tone. So teasingly close, his lips just barely ghosted against yours. He must be doing this on purpose, wanting to see you fluster and squirm because of him. What a scoundrel.

You have it all planned out, you echoed his earlier words back to him, his immediate response that nearly insufferable trademark smirk of his. You caved in first, eagerly taking his lips, wanting to quell the growing heat between the two of you.

He succumbed to your whims, his back suddenly against the couch cushions, your body on top of his. He answered your desperation with his own, all lucid thoughts leaving as you both submitted to your instincts, letting your desires guide you both to Heaven and Hell and back again.

An apartment in the city.

In the city? Again, sweetie?

What better place than hidden in plain sight?

A clever kitten.

You remembered wining and dining under starry skies. The rich food filled your belly wonderfully and the aged wine tasted like the sacred nectar of the gods. Blissfully tipsy, you remembered dancing with him on a rooftop, swaying and twirling, feeling like you were on cloud nine as the stars above shined brilliantly while city lights twinkled and gleamed.

In a humid, cramped bus, you leaned against his shoulder, remembering distant memories that might as well just be silly old fairy tales.

The days blended together. Most days, you weren’t sure if it was Monday or Tuesday, or perhaps it was neither, and it was actually Thursday.

He had acquired a car. Temporary, just like everything else in your life had been these past few months. As he filled the car with gas, you wandered into the convenience store. That particular scent hit you instantly, a strange feeling of nostalgia for something you had never missed.

You wandered down the aisles, hand skimming over the different snacks on display. None of them really caught your eyes or stirred up a craving, but you still picked out a few just in case. As you were checking out, you also grabbed an ice cream bar. The heat was unbearable and a strawberry shortcake bar suddenly sounded enticing. You missed the taste of fresh fruits, something that you never thought would one day be scarce and a sudden luxury.

As you left the store, ice cream bar unwrapped and the refreshing, cooling sweet taste on your tongue, you remembered the time when you and he went to pick strawberries together.

He had already finished refilling the gas tank. As he leaned against the car waiting for you, sunglasses over his eyes, you approached him, holding the cold treat up.

Want a bite?

He smirked, and took a generous bite to your dismay.

H-hey! That was a big bite!

Sorry, sweetie. He didn’t sound apologetic at all. What a prick.

I hope you get brain freeze.

And he laughed, already getting back into the car with you following suit. When you turned to buckle your seatbelt, his hand was on your cheek, already guiding you to his lips. He kissed you sweetly, nibbling on your lips as he tasted you.

When he parted, he smirked at your confusion, your breathing still shaky.

You had ice cream on your lips, he answered matter-of-factly.

Flustered, it took your brain a few seconds too long to register his mischievous words. When it finally clicked, you leaned back over, this time surprising him as you took charge. You kissed as if it was your last, as if he was the air that you needed, and he responded with equal fervor, treating you like a gift bestowed upon him by the highest being, or perhaps more like a forbidden treasure he had greedily coveted. Before the growing lust could cloud your mind, all semblance of reality returned when you heard the incessant honking from the car behind you, and had he been in a sour mood, perhaps there would have been an altercation, one that would end horrendously for the other party, of course.

But he smirked. He leered at the car behind him before speeding off. As he drove, you noticed him licking his lips.

Strawberry, he said, pondering, We should get this ice cream bar again.

You agreed, delighting in the taste of him that still lingered on your lips.

All thoughts disappeared, all of those dirty matrasses from dingy motel rooms didn’t seem to matter. You would always welcome him into you, the late, long nights of lovemaking a sweet escape from the reality you lived. In these little moments of you and him, he was your whole world and you were his. Deep kisses branded your skin, the heated moans of you and him mingled with every movement, every pulse, the need to chase after that paradise heightened by the shared growing passion.

You had memorized his every feature, his every being. The jewel-like crimson eyes of his always reflecting his deep devotion to you, the promise to always surrender to you had long been fulfilled. With every searing hot touch, he worshiped you like a devout man knelt at the altar of a goddess, beseeching her blessings.

He satisfied all of your needs, your desires his to fulfill, willingly and devotedly. No rules to bind you, nothing more to lose, you succumbed to your desires, drifting off to a state of pure euphoria only he could bring you to, just as you were all that he longed for, the only one who he would let rule his heart and bring him to his knees.

When you returned from your high, with the threat of dawn looming, he held you close, gentle fingers threading through your hair soothingly, his warm, deep voice feeling like home.

He lulled you with words of a distant future.

Maybe…we can get a dog.

You laughed. You don’t seem like a dog person, you reminded him, your finger poking his cheek in jest.

He smiled, and grabbed your wrist. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, the simple act had you stilling with pretty rosy cheeks, illuminated in the dark by a single ray of moonlight.

A cat then, he said, his voice teasing. He stroked your cheek, his fingers just barely skimming against your skin. Maybe two, so she wouldn’t be lonely.

Yeah? you asked, breathless, What else?

He hummed as he contemplated. White picket fences…Have coffee ready for you in the morning…red checkered blanket and a picnic under the sun…

It doesn’t sound like you… you quipped.

It could be me, he responded, his hand moving to tuck strands of hair behind your ear, his soft voice continuing, It could be us. And also—

His words stopped abruptly, sparking your curiosity. You questioned him, but he only answered with an ambiguous smile and a dismissive, amused shake of his head, as if what he was thinking was nothing of importance to dwell further.

It’s late, he whispered, kissing your forehead, Sleep, my beloved.

As you settled more comfortably into his embrace, you felt his hand resting over your lower abdomen, the touch unlike any other time he would embrace you. As your heavy eyelids closed, you realized the words he had withheld, the hopeful future even he seemed too scared to voice into existence.

In your dream, you could have sworn you heard the pitter-patters of small feet on hardwood floor, and his voice full of joy as he effortlessly swept up into his strong arms two little children, a boy and a girl, perfect blends of you and him.

Such a shame that it was only a dream, you thought the morning after in bed as you watched him shaved the five o’ clock shadow from his face in the dirty motel bathroom.

In the mirror reflection, he noticed you sitting up in bed, the cover barely covering your nude body, hair in disarray, and he smiled. You smiled back.

Such a shame indeed, you thought again, feeling a strange ache in your chest as your mind drifted back to the little boy and girl in your dream.

It was amazing how you still had an appetite.

Eggs and bacon seemed extra delicious at diners in the middle of nowhere. As if stuck in time, it looked nothing like the modern eateries you were familiar with. Black and white checkered flooring, large red booths, an old barely working jukebox in a corner—everything seemed like it was untouched by modern advancements, living peacefully in its own world of idle monotony.

As you finished your meal, he stood up, walking over to the ancient jukebox out of curiosity.

He perused the song choices, brows furrowed in contemplation before he settled on one:

In the still of the night / I held you / Held you tight.

Your head lifted at the smooth crooning, eyes meeting his just as he walked back to the booth, his hand extended to you. Silently, a little embarrassed, you took his hand, just like you always seemed to do.

Promise I’ll never / Let you go.

He twirled you around before his hand found your waist, steadying you as he moved you to the rhythm of the music. In the near empty diner, you danced with him, remembering a time long ago, you two had also waltzed just like this.

To keep your precious love.

Your head rested against his chest, his arms around you as he swayed you gently to the music as it faded to silence. Even long after the song had ended, you stayed in his arms, holding firmly onto the one constancy you still held from your past.

Things could get worse.

I’ll be there every step of the way.

An old television set, from decades ago, flashed for an instance a photo of you. Without words, he had dropped a generous amount of bills on the table, his hand already reaching for yours and taking you away before anyone could be wiser.

By the time the waitress had come to clear the table, her tired mind suddenly realizing as she looked from the television back to the empty booth, the young couple had already left town. Discreetly, she tucked away the extra bills into her bra, and resumed her monotonous day, blissfully ignorant and a few hundred dollars richer.

In an old convertible from long ago, driving down an endless, deserted road, you woke up in the passenger seat to his—peculiar—singing alongside the car radio:

No matter what you are / I will always be with you / Doesn’t matter what you do, girl.

You giggled and he turned to look at you momentarily before his eyes redirected to the long road ahead. The radio continued to play the song as you and he conversed:

You’re actually laughing at me, he quipped. You’re so cruel, sweetie.

With you, you corrected him cheekily.

Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was laughing.

You were, you insisted audaciously.

In that case, laugh with me then, sweetie.

You giggled again. I don’t know this song.

His eyes remained ahead, but his right hand reached over to rest on your thigh. He squeezed you gently in reassurance, and as the song neared the end, he sang along again, Ooh girl, you girl, want you.

The radio played the next song, but you settled in your seat, his hand still resting on your thigh and you hummed again the previous song before the gentle drive lulled you back to sleep again. As your consciousness faded away, you heard distantly his voice singing the current song:

So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep / Sometimes / All I need is the air that I breathe / And to love you.

The time that passed made the line between reality and dream blurred. The life you lived, running away with him felt more dreamlike with each passing day as you bounced from old motels to grand estates to the most discreet safehouses he owned. Nothing in either of your life felt permanent right now, except for each other, the only constancy in this reckless fleeing.

You had both discarded your names, only taking them back at night when you were both truly alone, feeling like two lost souls abandoned by the universe. In the dark, you moaned each other’s name, such lovely sounds as warm breath ghosted over slicked skin.

Your hands lightly touched his face, his eyes always locked with yours. Your shuddering gasps and his barely-restrained moans followed in suits as his hands gripped tighter your hips, guiding you up and down on his length. You kissed him, crying as he pierced you again and again, his movements rushing as he felt you nearing your release.

…I can’t…I need to…Sy…please…please…

Hngh…ye-yes…

He was panting, his eyes darkened by the heavy arousal of seeing you, his beloved, falling apart for him—because of him. You arched forward into him, his name spilling out from your lips and pleasure coursed through your entire being. With a few more rushed thrusts, his own release came, his deep groans resonated in your ears as he filled you full.

Collapsed on him, you both rested lazily together with his softened member still inside you and his seed dripping obscenely down your thighs. You hummed into his skin, boneless and satisfied, his warmth so familiar and addicting.

Just two nobody’s in the world, but in this moment, it felt like no one else existed and you were both truly the last of your kind.

How heavenly.

Away, away, you ran from town to town, the final destination only a vague dream. The further you ran, the lighter your heart felt. In his eyes, the bird that was caged was now soaring high. His only wish was to save her before her wings were clipped, and now he would follow her wherever she would take him, her song beckoning him to a paradise for two.

Don’t let go.

Sweetie, you’re stuck with me for life.

Higher and higher, you soared, the sun threatening to scorch your wings.

If you fall, you knew he would be there to catch you. So, you continued to fly, your hand outstretched. All of Heaven would be yours to command. You were going to unlock paradise, a place for two kindred spirits, the last of their kinds, forevermore tethered to one another.

Eventually, the dream came to an end, life catching up within a flash.

You had grown a little careless, believing that you were just a nobody drifting through life, forgetting that there was still a hefty bounty to your name.

Someone had seen your face. Someone had snitched. You wondered if they truly believed you were dangerous, or perhaps it was merely just human greed that drove them to expose you. You supposed it didn’t really matter in the end now. It was all over anyway.

You looked to him, and he to you. A silent exchange of words, an understanding reached.

The distant sirens grew louder and louder as they approached your final hideout.

There was banging outside the motel room, scattered voices calling for your surrender. There would be no negotiation. It wouldn’t matter if they dragged your dead body out instead. On command, a red laser dot maneuvered into the room from the open window, aligning to your head. Your heart was racing, but you stayed grounded, your eyes locked on his.

In just seconds, everything was about to change.

Five.

Four.

Do you trust me? he asked, his hand held out.

With my life, you answered automatically, your hand in his, and with a tug, you were pulled into his familiar warmth, safe and secured as a gunshot sounded and the glass window shattered. His large hand pressed your head gently to his chest, shielding you from the sounds, and just like that, you both left this world behind, disappearing into the swirls of red and black mist he had summoned before the motel door came crashing down.

One.

The end.

Somewhere, in another place, in another time, you woke up to clear blue skies, white picket fences, the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen, and you heard his laughter mingling with the sweet giggles of two little children.

You hummed pleasantly into your pillow, the sounds of footsteps getting louder and louder until the bedroom door opened. The bed shifted, his heavy weight on you, and your children’s assaulting kisses stealing away your breath and laughter.

Joyful tears brimmed your eyes, your belly aching tremendously from helpless laughter, and your heart at peace as he gazed down at you, his love steadfast and true.

It was almost nine in the morning, but you stayed lounging in bed, surrounded by all that mattered to you. Your children snuggled close to you on either side, your one free hand reached out for his, his hold ever familiar and constant.

His smile mirrored yours, the same devotion in his eyes just like long ago when he took this same hand and whisked you away, running and running until you found your home again at the end of the world.

His thumb caressed yours, his honeyed voice a sweet lullaby. I love you.

And you smiled back. I love you more.

He laughed, surrendering once more to you, always for you.

The past seemed distant, the future too far away. Cradled in the present, in this instance, the world seemed at peace again, and life moved on.