#I usually run away from making angst but I love eternity as a theme...

[r-aindr0p]

Oh how I wish to go down with the sun.

Sleeping, ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWeeping‎‎,

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWith You.

Lyrics from Sleeping Sun by Nightwish (symphonic metal) funny how the comments under the vid tell it's a "song for sinking ships" ahaha.... yeah in that case too :))))))))))))))))

I did hesitate greatly with Oceandeep by Beast in Black (power metal) because the themes are p similar (could work greatly with sea creature angst) (and unrelated but dang Beast in Black has such a great main vocalist, if you can listen to "blind and frozen" by this band you'll hear pretty much every way he can sing and it surprised me so much the first time I realized it was all the same guy (+ they filmed the MV at the Neuschwanstein ????!)

Music is a big part of inspiration in most (non chibi) art pieces I draw honestly I'm happy to share them even if a bit nervous at the same time-

[briebysabs]

Okay I wanna talk about woosan in the ateez canon lore for a minute because they’re actually insane. Like sure, they’re a popular pairing so it’s natural to have them be the classic duo in MVs. But they’ve done it so many times that it has to be more than fanservice at this point.

For instance, the ending to Eternal Sunshine where Woo runs and takes San’s hand as they float mid-air. What was the purpose this has still not been explained. A theory I heard was that Eternal Sunshine is a collective dream Ateez is having but still. I get they were really pushing woosan in 2021 but I squinted my eyes, it’s sus to me.

I’ve heard the theory too that WY from Halateez might be a traitor. I think it stemmed from the Hala Hala video where he’s left standing with blood on his mouth, everyone else fallen. Sick ass shot btw but they did defeat the Z-world government in Crazy Form (though idk if that was Halateez or A-world Ateez). So I feel like if he was it would’ve been revealed by now but it’s still a possibility.

I’ve also heard that canon woosan (before anyone yells I said canon not irl) are an implied couple and that’s the subtle nodding to standing up against an oppressive government and Ateez’s whole themes surrounding freedom. Could be true but that’s also putting a lot of faith into a kpop company being progressive enough to integrate that into their storyline.

There is what woosan said at a fansign about their characters in bouncy:

I understand that they’re the Black Pirates in disguise but if WY was ever a traitor, his lack of caring what happens to San would make sense. What makes the angst is that San wholeheartedly trusts in WY here. But my personal theory that I have is at some point, one version of woosan is going to sacrifice themself for the other. Now, it is a leap to say Ateez would kill off a member in their storyline because it could upset some fans. But they can get away with it regardless if it’s permanent or temporary because they have multiple versions of themselves in their lore. So nobody is 100% gone forever but it’ll still be a loss.

And preferably I want it to be WY if it ever happens. Here’s why: idk about Z-world WY but A-world WY’s biggest obstacle or regret was being too late, lacking confidence, being uncertain and missing his chance. While San wanted stability and was tired of his life constantly changing, thus losing friends. So think about it.

If WY died for San, he overcame his wall. He took a chance, he didn’t miss it and would regret nothing bc he couldn’t lose San. While San now lost his best friend forever, the biggest change of his life. And I do know that their backstories in A-world are somewhat reflective of themselves irl. And WY has been described as really the glue that holds the team together, that they wouldn’t be as close as they are without him. Not that losing any other member wouldn’t be heartbreaking but like….if WY died in canon I feel like even the staff would be crying behind the camera y’know what I mean?

And San can go full “I gotta save him, I can’t lose another friend he means too much to me”. It’ll work bc even if you’ve only watched the MVs without knowing anything else about woosan, you know what San means bc you usually see them paired in the songs. So he may use the Cromer (if they still have it) to time travel somehow which will be bringing us to another dilemma because Yunho’s brother has been dead. And I’m pretty sure in one of the diaries they went back in time for some reason, Yunho saw this opportunity and tried to save him from the accident that killed him but it still happened anyway. So there’s 1. Yunho’s like hey San I love WY too but why should we save him and not my brother? Then 2. Yunho going uh I tried doing this before and it didn’t work and I had to relive my brother dying so San don’t do this. And then San just doesn’t listen so it causes a rift within the group.

I feel like this would also give an excuse to keep the story going because the revolution is over. I think the main thing that caused me some fear about this comeback was Mingi going on a podcast saying how 2024 was really their year and they want to end it with a grand finale. Terrifying words, I think the incoming comeback is gonna be lore and it’s gonna be big. Doesn’t need to be woosan-related, probably isn’t but it just spawned my inner worm thoughts of their place in the lore.

[bonobonoyaatheart]

Gotta save you- Choi Yeonjun

Summary: Kai, your main rival has kidnapped your beloved boyfriend Yeonjun and Kai's men are ready to burn your weapon house: everything of your empire. Yeonjun or the empire you've built in all these years? choose one or surrender. You gotta make a choice.

Genre: Angst, action, Mafia au, little fluff.

Warning: Themes like mafia world, blood & violence

Pairing: Non idol Yeonjun x mafia female Reader

Word count: 1664

You stepped into your luxurious penthouse, the familiar scent of sophistication lingering in the air. As you closed the door behind you, a sense of unease began to gnaw at your insides. Something felt off, out of place. The silence that greeted you was unsettling, devoid of the usual laughter and banter that filled the space.

Where was Yeonjun? Calling out for Yeonjun, your voice echoed through the grand halls, but there was no response. Your heart quickened its pace, a flicker of worry dancing across your mind. He would always come running to you. You moved from room to room, searching for any sign of him, your steps growing more frantic with each passing moment.

Finally, you found yourself standing in the dimly lit bedroom, where memories of tender embraces and whispered promises filled your thoughts. But Yeonjun was nowhere to be found. The room seemed to hold its breath, suffocating you with its eerie stillness. A knot of dread formed in the pit of your stomach.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, shattering the silence, the shrill ring of your phone pierced the air. Your hand trembled as you picked it up, bringing it to your ear. A chilling voice greeted you on the other end, dripping with malevolence. It was Kai, your sworn enemy.

"I've taken something precious from you, my dear," Kai sneered, his words laced with venom. "If you ever want to see Yeonjun again, you better listen carefully."

Your heart skipped a beat, fear and anger coursing through your veins. The love of your life, Yeonjun, had been kidnapped by this twisted foe. A wave of emotions crashed over you, worry for Yeonjun's safety mingling with fury towards Kai for daring to challenge you.

Fury hardened your voice as you barked, "Where is he, Kai? Release him this instant!"

Kai's laugh dripped with malice. "Ah, my dear, it won't be that simple. I have him hidden away in the damp confines of an abandoned mansion, while my loyal men surround your precious weapon house. They will set it on fire soon.You have a choice to make, honey. Save your boyfriend or your empire you've built. I'll give you another choice if you want though....You can save Yeonjun and your weapon house. Just surrender to me... And ... Oh! Aren't most of your men are on another mission... Checkmate!" He wicked laugh rang in your ears.

A shiver ran down your spine as Kai's words settled into the depths of your consciousness. The weight of the decision pressed upon you like an iron vise. To save Yeonjun, the love that had filled your life with light, or to sacrifice everything you had built, your empire forged with blood, sweat, and tears.

The room seemed to close in around you as you grappled with the impossible choice. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the air thick with tension. Your mind raced, seeking a solution, a way to outsmart Kai and rescue Yeonjun without sacrificing everything you had fought so hard to attain.

Within a few seconds, you got another call. You received it and the first sound you heard was Yeonjun's choked sob. He was crying, wincing in pain. "Yeonjun baby!" You screamed into phone. You heard a foreign voice talking, "Ohh... So worried about your boyfriend, aren't you? Don't worry, we're treating him just perfect." You hung up the call. You couldn't take that anymore. "I gotta save you Junnie" you whispered to yourself.

In that moment, a fire ignited within you, fueled by love and determination. You refused to let Kai's sadistic game tear you apart. With steely resolve, you vowed, "I won't let you destroy everything I've worked for, Kai. I will find a way to save Yeonjun and protect my empire, no matter the cost. Don't think I'll be so easy to checkmate"

..............................................................................................................................

Stars shone brightly in the night sky, being the only beautiful thing that moment. You drove your car even faster matching the pace of your heartbeats. You had to find a way. And you had found one, which Kai wouldn't ever have imagined. "Yeonjun baby, I will save you. I GOTTA save you." You took a deep breath, you could never imagine your angel being in pain.

You had an unwavering belief in yourself. Your senses heightened, attuned to every subtle sound and movement. Yeonjun's life being at threat, it fueled the fire within you, reminding you of the love and trust that bound you together.

Yeonjun winced in pain as he felt another kick in his back. They had bech punching and kicking him since past three hours. Blood trickled down his lips to his chin. "Poor boy! Enjoying this too much huh? Let me help you" one of the men said as he pressed a knife onto Yeonjun's cheek. "She WILL come to save me. You don't know how strong she is! She can do anything." He cried. "Don't get your hopes too high boy...." Another man said as he pulled Yeonjun by his hair.

You stood in front of Kai's mansion. You had managed to bribe some of his men to let you in. " I am here Kai. Now see who's gonna get checkmated."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………......

You stormed through the halls of Kai's mansion, ready to confront him and save Yeonjun. The sound of your footsteps echoed, filling the empty corridors with a sense of impending danger. Your heart raced, pumping adrenaline through your veins as you prepared for the intense fight ahead.

As you encountered Kai's henchmen, you swiftly took them down, using your quick reflexes and precise moves. Punches landed with force, kicks hit their mark, and the enemies fell to the ground, defeated. Their loyalty to Kai proved futile in the face of your determination.

The room became a chaotic battleground as you faced wave after wave of adversaries. The air was filled with the sounds of fists colliding and guns firing. You moved with agility, dodging attacks and launching powerful counterattacks. Along the way, you endured bruises and wounds, the price you paid to protect Yeonjun.

The fight intensified, a relentless struggle to ensure the safety of your beloved. Every strike carried the weight of your unwavering resolve. The room became a blur of motion as you fought with every ounce of strength. Your body bore the evidence of the battle, with bruises forming and wounds marking your determination.

Amidst the chaos, the door to Kai's room stood as the final obstacle. You pushed through, driven by a mix of fear and love for Yeonjun. His words of encouragement echoed in your mind, pushing you forward. The confrontation with Kai was inevitable, and you braced yourself for the ultimate showdown.

The room crackled with tension as you and Kai faced off, weapons in hand. The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls. something dangerous was about to begin.

Guns blazed, bullets flying as you dodged and fired back. The noise was deafening. Your heart raced as you fought with all your might.

Suddenly, you felt a bullet pierce into your shoulder and your grip on the gun slipped. It fell to the floor. Quick as lightning, you reached for your knife, the gleaming blade becoming your new weapon.

The battle raged on, each move a testament to your determination. You clashed with Kai, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the room. Sweat poured down your face, mixing with the blood on your clothes.

Breathing heavily, you locked eyes with Kai, a mix of defiance and desperation in your gaze. "You thought you could break me," you said through gritted teeth. "But I won't let you destroy everything I've worked for."

Kai sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're just a pawn in this game. I'll always be one step ahead."

Fuelled by anger, you pushed harder, overpowering Kai and forcing him to the ground. Pressing his own gun against his forehead, you spoke with determination. "Tell your men to release Yeonjun," you demanded, your voice shaking with anger. "And leave my weapon house. Your reign ends now."

Kai's face twisted with anger and defeat. He reluctantly gave the orders, admitting his defeat. As he slipped into unconsciousness, the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders.

Silence filled the room, broken only by your heavy breathing. The victory tasted bitter, knowing the sacrifices made. But love for Yeonjun pushed you forward, ready to face the challenges ahead.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………......

The gate of the mansion swung open, and Yeonjun stumbled out, his body battered and bruised. Your heart lurched at the sight of him, the evidence of his suffering etched across his face. Without hesitation, you rushed towards him, your voice filled with both relief and concern. "Yeonjun! Thank goodness you're safe!"

His weary eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and gratitude shining through. "I knew you'd come for me," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the ordeal. "You're my savior, my everything."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you embraced him tightly, your body trembling with a mix of emotions. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," you confessed, your voice choked with emotion. "I would have moved heaven and earth to bring you back to me."

With aching bodies and wounded souls, you made your way into the mansion, guiding Yeonjun towards the sanctuary of the medical room. He insisted on tending to your wounds first, his concern for you unwavering. But you gently shook your head, your voice filled with determination. "No, Yeonjun. Right now, it's you who needs healing. Let's focus on getting you better."

"But you are far more injured than me baby. Why didn't you get yourself treated?" Yeonjan spoke softly, voice laced with worry. "How could I, when you were not here with me?" You replied, eyes glassy and tears threatening to fall.

Supporting each other, you helped him onto the bed, the softness offering a brief respite from the harsh realities you both faced. As he winced in pain, you hovered beside him, your fingers gently caressing his cheek. "You've been through so much," you whispered, your voice trembling. "But I promise you, I'll be here every step of the way, helping you recover."

Yeonjun's eyes softened, gratitude shining through the pain. "You're my strength," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even in the darkest moments, it was the thought of you that kept me going. I love you more than words can express."

Overwhelmed by the intensity of your emotions, tears rolled down your cheeks. You buried your face in his chest, seeking solace and comfort in his embrace. He held you tightly, his arms providing a sanctuary from the world's turmoil. "Let it all out," he murmured, his voice filled with compassion. "I'm here, and I'll never let you go."

" I'm so sorry Jun." You managed to speak in between your chocked cries and sobs. "You don't have to be sorry for ANYTHING baby. You have no idea how grateful I am to have someone like you." Yeonjun's words soothed you a little.

Through muffled sobs, you managed to express your deepest fears and regrets, the weight of everything you had endured crashing down upon you. Yeonjun listened intently, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You're not alone in this," he whispered, his voice laced with determination. "We'll heal together, piece by piece, until we're whole again."

As you clung to each other, the room filled with a bittersweet symphony of tears, whispers, and unspoken promises. In that moment, you found solace in each other's arms, knowing that love would guide you through the darkest of times.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The morning sun shone through the curtains, filling the room with a gentle glow. You slowly woke up, still thinking about what happened the night before. With a soft sigh, you carefully moved away from Yeonjun, making sure not to disturb his peaceful sleep.

As you stepped out of the bed, you took a moment to think about all the challenges you had faced together. The fights, the sacrifices, and the love that had helped you overcome everything. It amazed you to see how strong you were, how you had managed to stay strong when things got tough.

Walking through the hallway, you looked at the fancy mansion that used to belong to Kai. Now it was yours, a sign that justice had prevailed. You felt a mix of pride, relief, and a bit of sadness as you remembered the difficult path you had to take.

Entering the medical room, you found Yeonjun awake and grateful to see you. His smile brought hope, reminding you that love could conquer any obstacle. Sitting beside him, you held his hand gently and whispered, "We did it, Yeonjun. We faced the darkness together."

He squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with trust. "As long as we're together, there's nothing we can't overcome," he said confidently. "Our love is strong enough to handle anything."

In that moment, you exchanged a silent promise, vowing to protect, cherish, and love each other unconditionally. The echoes of your journey would forever resonate within your souls, reminding you of the depths of your resilience and the power of love's redemption.

A/N: The Kai not from TXT or EXO. He is a fictional character.

Reblog and share if you like, and let me know what you think about this!

[joyfullyacat]

Dangerous for the Heart

"G" I reference to is designed by lovely @sleepykas

CW: angst! oof ouch hearts, pining, i think its okay otherwise? not beta'd im sorry-

You had dealt with plenty of casanovas in your time by this point, confident flirty sorts who make you feel like your glittering perfection to be beheld by all. Usually that’s all it was, some artificial fluff to make you feel good for the day and that was the end of it. They were bad for your heart and you knew that.

Yet this one was able to get beneath the skin. 

Maybe it was because of his otherwise harmless demeanor, how he treated you respectfully and the flirting was just cherries on top. His patience with you and your blunders - boy you had your fair share of them.

Like assuming they had to use the bathroom like you did and so on.

He answered all your little questions about their side of life, being mechanically eternal, et cetera. You learned much about their inner society that was interwoven with your own and gave you much food for thought.

So it was no wonder, with brains and soul to boot that he got past your defenses.

You inevitably fell hopelessly in love with someone who felt like the sun itself. Endearingly warm and welcoming, brightening up the rooms they entered, leaving them all too cold and empty in their wake when they left.

Coincidentally enough, his name was Sun - a solar themed animatronic individual.

Yes, your heart was utterly his. Malleable in his hands like putty to shape how he pleased. Perhaps it had been from the get go, when you first met him at the silly little bookstore you worked at.

“Okay, your order is made! What will I be calling you by when it arrives?” You chirped pleasantly with a smile aimed at him, cheery as your first order of the day was with a pleasant stranger who wasn’t giving you a hard time over something not being in stock.

It seemed he had been waiting for this moment his whole life as his eyes widened some, his rays doing an endearingly giddy spin before he leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter.

The sudden proximity had you leaning away yet it didn’t deter him as he uttered in the closest thing to a whisper his voice box could manage.

“You can call me yours, Daydream.”

Heat had never crawled up your neck and face so fast and you wondered if it was visible - judging by his little snicker, stifled with a well mannered hand over his mouth, he likely could.

But that was the start of your unlikely friendship and the beginning of the end for you.

He had that way of making you feel special, a sort of way you hadn’t felt in some time, probably not since your first flame in the early days of college.

So of course, after run-ins and further talks at the bookstore, you got his number and he got yours - from there it bloomed further.

Hangouts weren’t too often with him, he was a busy man after all yet cagey about what he practiced, which was fine by you. You got to know the other things about his life - his brother, ironically called Moon and was the polar opposite of Sun. A literal duo of day-and-night but equally charming.

Maybe Moon keeping his distance from you as he did, despite your best efforts, was a warning sign.

The other warning sign you perhaps blatantly ignored was that he never referred to your outings as dates - you didn’t want to assume after all but they very distinctly felt like a date would. Or you were being optimistic. 

Afternoon picnics with handmade food, finding mutual likes and deep banter, it was all clicking into place. 

So when the day finally came, stopping by your shop as he always did on Monday. The first person you got to see in your work week and the last one you’d see by Friday as he’d kindly walk you to your apartment complex as you worked into the night on those days.

That Monday, he had asked you on a date. A date proper. Using the word and everything! 

“So, Daydream, got an ask for ya.” He was doing that cool side lean that guys liked to do, resting comfortably against your counter top with his arms crossed, peering down at you with a cheeky grin. “How’s a date sound, hm? You, me, the stars on Saturday night - there’s supposed to be a meteor shower then that I think you’d like seeing.”

You reached up on your tiptoes to prod at his cheek, giggling at his baffled expression as you actually managed the automaton some. “You mean you’d like to get pictures and Moon can’t go with you and you don’t wanna go alone?”

Sun got all sheepish like he usually does when you’re able to read him like that, scratching lightly around his collar some before he nodded with reluctance. 

“Yeah, you caught me there - I haven’t been able to catch photographs of meteor showers since coming into the city, y’know? So…”

You interrupt where he’s going by taking the hand still scritching at himself into your own two, gently running a thumb over his knuckles, “You don’t have to explain to me, it’s alright - I’d love to go! Just let me know when I should be ready and where we'll be meeting, yeah?”

He looked at you, somewhat stumped before nodding dumbly, discreetly joyous you’d agree despite how much the suave demeanor had tapered off into what he really was - a sweet, clumsy sort with a silver tongue.

“Yeah - great, good… Right uhm… We’ll meet outside that cafe you enjoy? Where you normally get breakfast despite me showing you how to make your own.” Sun squinted some at the end of his statement, the jab clearly in jest and making you chuckle all the same. 

“It’s just not as fast! Can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“If you’d stop sleeping in and stop staying up late-” He reaches over to palm the top of your head, ruffling your locks thoroughly despite your best efforts to bat his hand away.

“Okay okay! I got the memo, I have gotten better by a whole hour at least though! You know that, don’t you?”

“Sure do,” with one last ruffle, he leans away from the counter entirely, giving you a once-over to see how his actions turned out and nodding in satisfaction. “But it’s a date then, right? Yeah - I’ll see you then.”

Even he seemed to be just a little frazzled and touchy over the word date, needing reassurance that he did indeed just ask for that and that you had agreed to it easily.

He began to leave the quaint shop, just barely giving a wave over his shoulder before you called out to him.

“Hey - what time are we meeting?”

Sun paused mid-step before offering over his shoulder, “Late afternoon? I wanna get out of the city early and get a good spot!”

“Good to me, see you then, Sunlight~!”

His chuckle was the last thing you heard before he was out the door and you awaited eagerly for the upcoming days in which you would see him.

...That handful of days was all it took it seemed.

To become nothing more than a passing thought.

Friday, he appeared as he always did but he was… Distant. Not-so-chatty, giving you the cold shoulder with one-word responses. But that was fine, right? There was Saturday. Sun gave you the familiar parting hug he typically offers in the absence of an apology when he knows he isn’t acting quite right. Something probably happened at work.

Yet even that action felt more like it was coming from a stranger than someone you had known for months now, almost three seasons had passed.

It made you fretful for the day after but you weren’t going to let it stop you - he didn’t call it off, you had even asked if things would be alright for tomorrow or if he needed a raincheck.

He may have supplied you with a simple grunt and a shake of the head, but it was a response all the same, wasn’t it?

Before you can get too roped up in your thoughts, your phone goes off with a text of goodnight. Letting you know he reached home safely. A request he never understood yet you were fervent to get from him when this all started.

It’d be alright on that note.

While you don’t sleep too well, Saturday comes, the day goes by in a crawl when you’re expecting a specific hour to roll in and you busy yourself mainly with trying to choose what to wear.

You're thankful for the choice of outing, not having to get too done-up but you put effort in all the same. 

Your comfortable sweater with bishop sleeves that hide your hands is in his colors - a new number you bought because of how it reminded you of him. Outside of being ridiculously soft. You put on a light amount of jewelry and set yourself on your awaited journey which is a brisk walk down the block.

The walk lets you clear your head, wanting to leave the lingering anxieties you had at the door. It’d go well, you’d get to see him all cute over his enthusiasm for astrophotography, you couldn’t ask for a better time honestly.

He had texted you at some point earlier in the day, confirming the time for you would be around four and it was just hitting that hour now.

You stood outside the little cafe and waited…

…

And waited…

…

And waited.

Maybe something came up, you shoot a quick text around an hour later.

"Hey, everything alright? You’re an hour late to your own date you know? <3"

Hopefully the little emoji would make it clear you weren’t upset, just worried. Even if you… Were a bit upset.

…

No response.

Another hour rolls by and you’re ready to call him or call it quits, especially as the sun has almost fully set and the night life of the city is coming to life now. 

That’s when you see it.

Sun, walking down the sidewalk across the street and you almost call out to him - but he’s not alone. He’s with his brother, Moon, and one other… Arm draped around their shoulders, they're all laughing - even Moon makes some gesture as if he’s trying to hold back.

You were thoroughly stood up and forgotten about in one swift gesture.

Sun makes a gesture to dodge someone in a hurry coming from the opposite way they’re going, leaving the individual the two animatronics are huddling protectively around exposed just enough to read them.

…You’ve seen them before, a few times actually.

It’s the barista that works just across your bookshop in a little coffee joint. What was the name of it again? Latte something.

There is an uncomfortably tight knot in your chest now. It’s your heart that has been returned to you harshly with a kick for good measure while your eyes sting from the audacity you’ve seen tonight. You want to wail but you are in public. The three pass you by, blissfully unaware in their triad of companionship. 

You want to scream. But you are in public.

Yet you can’t even bring yourself to move as you sniff harshly.

People walk around you for the most part and you spend a good few minutes just trying to get yourself to move out of the shocked state you were in.

You feel an nearing presence, a hand now distinctly hovering over your shoulder. Not quite touching you but letting it be known they were there and letting you decide what to do with it.

…Slowly, you reach over and place that hand on you, breathing in deeply once you do so, just so you can let out a quiet word of thanks without sounding like a frog was making its home in your throat.

“May I ask what’s wrong tonight?” The voice is masculine, robotic in nature with the underlying mechanical hum to it. Though it’s low and smooth with an almost sultry quality. “Or… Could I offer help in some way?”

You take a cursory glance over to your current acquaintance and go stiff at your findings. They don’t quite look like Sun or Moon but a mish-mash of them both, a screen panel for a face split into two colors of black and dark orange with piercing golden eyes looking at you in concern.

It seems he recognizes your predicament as an almost bitter chuckle rings out and he gently squeezes your shoulder in assuring comfort before letting the hand drop. “I have some… Acquaintances that share my likeness, I take it you’ve met them?”

You nod numbly, “...Just stood up by one in fact.” While you didn’t waiver, there's a weakness to your voice that makes you want to curl up.

The stranger tuts, his brows furrowing as the screen that makes up his face distorts some with an unknown cause. “Well that’s no good! I’m - well there’s nothing I can really say to soothe that sort of betrayal but…” He glances to the cafe the two of you are standing outside currently, thankfully still open as he points to it. “My treat? Have you eaten here before?”

A part of you wants to say no, to just shrivel in your bed underneath your softest covers and sob away… The other part?

Doesn’t want to be alone at this moment.

So with another nod, you lead the way with something that you hope comes across as a thankful smile that he returns in a flash.

He’s dressed quite sharply for someone just taking a walk down the street on a Saturday night. 

“I’m not - I haven’t interrupted any plans, have I?” You ask warily, perking a brow as you hold the door open for him. 

He bows his head before ducking moreso to fit through the door that is a good deal shorter than he is, “Nothing that can’t be done at a different time, not a worry.” 

“Right…” A waitress takes the two of you to a table with ease and it’s then you finally realize you should do introductions. 

“Goodness I’m sorry, here you are buying me food and we haven’t even exchanged names or anything yet, I’m…” You offer your name with a more flustered air forming that you hope you squash down with the outstretched polite hand you offer him.

“...It’s a joy, new friend.” He takes your hand in his own and leans forward to put it up to where his mouth would be in a kiss. “Call me 'G' for now, if that’s alright.”

Oh.

Oh dear…

He was dangerous for your heart too.

[yeoldontknow]

the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere  ❂ To The Lighthouse      ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere​ AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons​ for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K        ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly​ and @kithtaehyung​ for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once. 

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him. 

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture. 

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply. 

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes. 

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity. 

In Hoseok, you see it all. 

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness. 

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same. 

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic. 

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted. 

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly. 

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid. 

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything. 

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun. 

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.  

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’ 

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice. 

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores. 

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek. 

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks. 

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving. 

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you. 

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend. 

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them. 

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever. 

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink. 

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found. 

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’ 

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath  a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement. 

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’ 

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him. 

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’ 

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him. 

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok. 

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart. 

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone. 

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive. 

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’ 

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth. 

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible. 

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity. 

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need. 

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony. 

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust. 

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees. 

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving. 

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought. 

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him. 

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose. 

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core. 

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible. 

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you. 

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core. 

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head. 

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care. 

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root. 

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down  your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’ 

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention. 

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’ 

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion. 

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt. 

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught. 

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline. 

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough. 

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more. 

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking. 

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret. 

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you. 

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time. 

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you. 

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always. 

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible. 

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’ 

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him. 

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse. 

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside. 

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless. 

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’ 

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him. 

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry. 

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child. 

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose. 

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you. 

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky. 

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form. 

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too. 

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools. 

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer. 

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you. 

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving. 

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness. 

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more. 

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’ 

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear. 

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor. 

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt. 

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him. 

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you. 

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this. 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity. 

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up. 

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing. 

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you. 

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him. 

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure. 

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered. 

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding. 

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you. 

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’ 

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention. 

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain. 

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

[saphirered]

We've all seen fics where Caleb's SO dies and gets resurrected, and we seen Caleb accidentally hurting his SO, but what about Caleb accidentially killing his SO? Maybe Reader got burned by one of his fire attacks? The revival's successful, but damn, the angst.

Angst was requested and angst you shall receive. I hope this is to your liking. 😘

Trigger warning for death and grief themes.

Caleb sits on his knees, head bowed, whispering pleas in Zemnian to the gods, the world, to you, your cold hand encased between his own, occasionally pressing a kiss to it in the hopes you’d just wake up. But you’re not going to wake up. Not in the way you would in the morning when you’ve had a particularly late night and Caleb has to drag you out of bed, you being stubborn or pretending to still be asleep so you maybe could convince him to join you for a little more. Not in the way after you got knocked out in a fight, when you sit up and rub your eyes with a grunt like usual. Nothing within his capabilities will wake you up.

So here Caleb sits, begging for it to be a nightmare, some sick and twisted tricks played on his mind but there’s no denying this is real and this is the truth. You’re dead. You’re dead and it’s his fault. You ended up as collateral damage in his reckless attempt to kill the creature. You got stuck in the crossfire of that. He hadn’t realised you were doing so bad already, you even sent him a wink right before when he asked if you were okay. Why did you? Why didn’t you just tell him you weren’t? Why did you lie? Not lie, omitted the truth.

He knew exactly why you did it but that doesn’t make it any easier. You’d known the other’s weren’t doing great and barely holding on already. You were severely outmatched and couldn’t get away from the creature. Not without it chasing after you and running you in an even more perilous situation. Anything Caleb could do would affect anyone close to the creature. With Yasha having dragged Beau out of the fray you were the only one left to hold it at bay while the clerics worked on patching them up, Fjord and Veth offering them cover. You were the final line of defence. At the end of the day you had to keep the clerics alive.

Caleb took a calculated risk. A fireball to send the creature dropping into the ruined depths of Aeor. He had tried to keep you out of the range but wouldn’t have been able to strike the creature without putting you at risk. The spell worked and the creature got hit with full force. It was your attack right before the fireball struck that had send it stumbling, then with the blast, it lost its footing and stumbled off the edge.

But you too, dropped. and when you did, the creature’s tail lashed out, grabbing onto your body, dragging you with it. The creature had hit the platform below in its fall and the impact had made it release you, saving you from the full drop. Caleb had rushed to the edge, fear, pain, anger and guilt riddling his mind thinking he had truly lost you but there you were, bloodied, bruised, broken and burned. Because of him. All because of him. How could he have been so stupid and reckless. When he brought your body back to the others, he wasn’t quick enough. You’d already faded into the cold embrace of the Raven Queen and the clerics had expended their last resources.

So that leaves Caleb here, sitting at your side a day after you died, body preserved by the graces of Caduceus and the Wildmother. The clerics set up their ritual, working around him and you as the others help where they can. Beau and Veth had tried to console him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and if he hadn’t they might all have been dead right now. He appreciates his friends trying but it’s of no use. He already made up his mind and it’s not going to change anything. You died because of him. He murdered you and how is that any different than his actions in the past? How does that make him any different than the lives he’s taken in the clutches of his former mentor? Is there truly no redemption for him? You’d slap him for even thinking that way.

“Mr. Caleb? Why don’t you try talking to them? Persuasion has worked in the past to coax someone back.” Caduceus places a hand on the wizard’s shoulder but it barely registers. Yet the firbolg knows they did not fall upon deaf ears when the whispers stop for just a moment.

“I-. I do not think they’d want to hear from their murderer.” Speaking the words make them so much more painful. By the looks of it, Beau is ready to unleash in a degrading rant about how wrong Caleb is, breaking him apart only build him back up but she’s held at bay by Yasha. This is not the time and place. Caduceus doesn’t claim to know what Caleb’s going through, nor may he be the brightest mind here but he understands and can empathise.

“I know no matter what I say it won’t change your feelings so instead I will offer you this. You owe it to them to try. Not for what happened here but for the countless times they’ve been there for you, have had your back, and for the unconditional love they’ve given you. You owe them to try.” The wizard looks up over his shoulder to the firbolg, pain in his eyes, and the trails of silent tears that have long since run out. Caduceus is right. He owes it to you to save you and right now it is within his power to try. If he doesn’t, if he fails he’ll have condemned you to this fate. If he succeeds with this part, he’ll be able to look into your eyes again. You may never forgive him but he hopes to see you smile, hear your voice even if just once more.

Caleb nods looking back at you, bringing your limp fingers up to his lips and pressing them against your knuckles. He takes in a deep breath and tries to find the right words as Caduceus steps back. What are the right words? He cannot afford to fuck this up. He cannot afford to fail. He must succeed. He must.

“I know I might be the last person you want to hear right now. I want you to know I’m sorry-“ Caleb’s voice cracks as he feels the eyes of the others on him. He brushes some of your hair away from your forehead, running his thumb across your cheek.

“I don’t-uh. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I can do this. You’re always here for me during difficult times. You’d put your hand on my cheek and tell me ‘If anyone can do it it’s you, Caleb Widogast. You could move mountains if you set your will to it. Now stop being stubborn before I slap some sense in you.’ but now you’re not here to tell me that. You’ve shown me there’s a world beyond the walls I put up, that there is a light at the end of that tunnel, but now I cannot help but feel the world has grown dull, the walls are caving in, and that light is fading.”

“I have no right, no right to ask you this, but I need you to save my world one more time. So please, I beg of you. Do not leave me to brave this world without you.” The weight of his heart heavy on his conscious. Caleb feels a pressure causing a ringing in his ears. He’s so focussed on you, he cannot take his eyes off you. Not even when the others do their part in the ritual. He realises this pressure is coming from the effects of the spell to bring you back. He holds his breath, not daring to take in oxygen if only to savour the moment, hoping it will not pass, that for just a little longer he can hold on to the hope you’re coming back instead of having that hope crushed by a potential failure.

The pressure fades but nothing happens. Nothing changes. It’s silent as everyone waits for something, anything to happen. That moment alone feels like an eternity of suspense. Caleb finds himself whispering prayers and pleas in Zemnian again, your hand clasped between his own as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly to live through the memories of you, preserve them for the rest of his life just in case because he refuses to forget even a single one of them. He’s so consumed in his own mind he doesn’t notice warmth returning to your fingers. He doesn’t notice your chest beginning to rise and fall. Caleb’s pleas continue.

“Would you mind translating that? I think my brain got a bit scrambled.” Caleb freezes and his eyes open. Your eyes are closed but your brow is furrowed. Furrowed in discomfort. Not sleeping and not void of your usual expressions. Colour has returned to your limbs and face and no longer dulled. Caleb falls silent in disbelief, frozen in place and mind blank.

“Caleb?” You speak his name, peaking through one eye to see the wizard in his disheveled state. You sit up, grunting in pain. Apparently being brought back from the dead isn’t kind on your physical form, not even mentioning the exhaustion weighing on your mind. You could sleep for a couple of hours… or days… or weeks… You could do with a break really. All of you could. You nudge Caleb’s head up by his chin allowing your fingers to slide onto his cheek.

“Blink twice if you need me to get Beauregard to slap you back into reality.” You muster a smile as you brush your thumb over his cheekbone. Caleb doesn’t understand how you’re not recoiling in disgust or lashing back in anger. He doesn’t understand how you can look at him with love and kindness.

“I’m so sorry. Please-“ Caleb goes off in a spur of apologies, begging for your forgiveness.

“Caleb, I love you but you really need to stop. This is a problem for another day.”

“You died. I killed you. How can you even look at me like you do?”

“So what? I died. I’m here now. I got better. Now preferably I’d like to not die again, some things are beyond our control. And if you need some kind of reassurance; Veth killed Cad that one time and he doesn’t hate her.” Veth yells a ‘hey’ in defence while you earn a chuckle from the firbolg. You know Caleb isn’t just going to take your word for it and you’re also not going to make anyone buy you’re totally okay with just dying and being brought back to life because you’re not but you also know that you can’t blame Caleb for being a factor in what happened when you yourself were aware of the risks of the situation you were in. You made your own bet and it didn’t pay off but all your friends are still alive and well, Caleb’s still alive and well and that alone makes it worth the risk you took.

“You have no idea how much I love you.” Caleb breathes as he pulls you into his arms with a gentleness as if you’re made of porcelain, or will fade out of existence if he holds on too tightly.

“I think I have a pretty good estimate but we can compare notes later if you’d prefer.” You pull back enough to look at Caleb’s face, brush aside some of the red strands and softly place your lips on his. It’s not a heated kiss but one filled with emotion and a desperation no less. Neither of you thought you’d get to be in each other’s arms again but here you are despite everything. Maybe your work here isn’t done yet. You still got some asses to kick.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“So that’s how you want to play this, love?" | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey My Lovelies! I hope all is well today! I received a request ages ago from @activist-af to do something like this, as you will read below. I honestly aimed to fit the movie night theme in there but it was swallowed up pretty fast! I only meant for this fic to be 3000 or so words but, as it always seems to do, it got away from me.I truly hope that you enjoy this, you've given me an unwavering amount of support these past few months while I was battling a major bout of depression and writers block. I can't repay all the kindness and love you've given me but I hope this is a start! Much love darling! And much love to all of you lovelies! Please have a fantastic evening for me! <3

Please read before continuing: I usually wouldn't write this much before my story but I wanted to add this: this story is my first full blown smut. I'm honestly not sure how well it will go over but I tried to make it as loving and healing as I could. I take my writing very seriously. I know sex for many is a touchy subject, and that truly pains me. I sincerely hope every single one of you reading this feels all the love and saftey I tried to incorporate into this peace. I wish you an eternity of love and healing. Be safe my loves!

Request: "Could u do a mikaelson boys x reader? Any plot really, but I’d very much love it if it was a bit more Kol focused. there’s just such a lack of content for all three of them and I love your writing so much. If u need any plot point ideas maybe a movie night kinda thing? I really hold him a bit higher than the other boys. Or something similar to the fic with the Klaus + Eli being injured? Fluffy ending please, smut is fantastic too 🖤"

Description: Y/n is upset that the boys won't let her come on their mission with them, feeling isolated and useless. Kol is supposed to stay behind and watch out for her however things get heated after she tells him off.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, mainly Kol and Elijah

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! This is a full blown smut, I honestly do not know how it happened, probably 4000/5000 words are pure sex scenes, also there's a bit of fighting/angst at the beginning of the first scene but it doesn't last

Word count: 5343 (I'm so sorry)

Tags: ANGST, SMUT (full on), FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

“I really don’t see why you guys are leaving me behind, again,” you run an agitated hand through your hair, huffing indignantly at the two boys in front of you.

Yes, boys. Not men. If they aren't going to treat you like the full grown woman you are then no way in hell are you going to give them any validation either. Even in your head.

“It’s too dangerous,” Elijah’s chocolate eyes are stern, his hands clenching at his sides, “I can’t risk the witches doing anything to you as a way to get to us. You’re too important.”

Your chest warms slightly at his words but it isn’t enough to break down your resolve. Three hundred years under your belt; they’re going to need to do better than that if they want to keep you away. There are only so many times you can stay away from a fight, only so many times you can watch them come home hurt knowing that if you had gone with them then maybe you could have prevented it. You’re a family and you’re tired of feeling like you aren’t pulling your weight.

You narrow your eyes at the tall boy, still not man, trying to peer through all the red you’re seeing, “I’m not a child, Elijah.”

He stares right back, not backing down, his face cut like marble, unwavering. Beautiful but harsh. Stone. He wears a white shirt, the first button popped and the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His veins are prominent and tempting. Elijah means business. You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing away the heat growing in your stomach.

“Love, trust me, we know you aren't a child. Any other time I would gladly rip you upstairs and prove it. Right now, though, I agree with him. You’re staying here,” Klaus’ softer voice pulls your attention from your staring match with the eldest Mikaelson.

He has a leather jacket on, the material clinging tight to his arms, ready to burst. He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his crystal eyes. He folds his arms neatly in front of him. He’s not going to budge either.

You scoff at him, shaking your head, “I want to come, Klaus. I need to.”

A new voice joins the three of you in the foyer, “I can make that happen, darling, but you’ve got to stay home with me if you want that.”

You don't even need to turn around to hear the smirk on Kol’s voice but you do anyway, meeting the youngest Mikaelson face to face. He has a grin on his lips, one that, in any other situation, would have you weak in the knees. He has a sweatshirt on and a pair of sleep shorts. He’s on babysitting duty, he doesn’t need anything else. You only roll your eyes at him before facing Elijah once more.

“I’m part of this family, too, you know. It should be my choice,” you have to will your voice not to crack, keeping your tone as low and as steady as you can, “I’m not useless, Elijah, as much as you’d obviously disagree.”

You rub your hands over your bare arms, fending off a sudden chill. You feel like there’s ice coursing through your veins. A traitorous tear tracks down your cheek but you make no move to get it. Elijah’s hardened face softens when he notices.

“Baby, come on,” he reaches to grab you but you step back, not allowing him to touch you.

He can’t do that, make the decisions for you. Maybe if you were still human it would be called for but now it’s not. Sure, you aren't a millennium like they are but you’re not a piece of glass either. You’re strong, whether they want to acknowledge it or not.

“Don’t, Elijah,” you back away further, your cheeks drenched but your eyes fierce, “I’ll see you guys in a few days. Be safe.”

You turn and walk away, ignoring all three brothers as they call out to you, heading up to your room before any of them decide to follow you. You close the door, not slamming it but not exactly shutting it gently either. You can hear Elijah sigh from the front hall and you know he’s tugging on his hair. Klaus swears, his frustrated voice floating up to your ears. More tears fall but you brush them away angrily, lifting a pillow from your bed and screaming into it. No doubt they can hear it but, right now, you couldn't care less. The front door shuts and your heart plummets.

You sit on the edge of your bed, gripping your dark comforter tightly. Usually you like being the one they take care of. You like being held, how small they make you feel. Right now, though, it’s too much.

A soft knock draws your attention to the door, Kol’s careful voice cutting through the wood, “darling?”

“Leave me alone, Kol,” you try your best to make your words harsh but you only sound tired.

“Not likely, love,” he presses, “you know I can go all night, now it’s up to you what that means.”

Your cheeks flush and, as if he can see you through the door, he chuckles. The sound echos through your chest, stirring the remains of anger and frustration and mixing them with something hot and untamed. You pull the door open, coming face to face with the smirking Mikaelson.

“Sorry you landed with babysitting duty, Kol, but I’ve kept myself alive for three hundred years now and I’m pretty sure I can handle two more days on my own. Why don’t you go help Elijah and Klaus, yeah? Seeing as you are the only three who can actually do any good. I’m clearly not strong enough to do anything so I’ll just sit here and look pretty and do absolutely nothing at all because I’m useless. Okay?”

With that you close the door in his face. Well, you try to but he wedges his body in the way so you can’t shut him out. Whatever smile had previously been on his face is long gone and in its place sits a deep frown. His brown eyes ice over slightly and he stands taller than he did mere seconds ago. You can feel a switch in the atmosphere and suddenly you’re face to face. You honestly can’t tell which one of you is more pissed off.

“So that’s how you want to play this, love,” he pushes closer to you, “you want to get angry, yeah? Alright darling, I can do that.”

You open your mouth to protest but before any profanities can fly out his lips are on yours, fierce and strong. He uses his foot to kick the door closed, slamming it into place. It’s done merely for effect. No one is home but the two of you. He spins you around aggressively, pushing you roughly against the hardwood. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, no doubt drawing blood. As if on cue a copper taste fills your mouth, drowning your senses in red. This time, though, the anger is mixed with a wicked kind of lust.

Your hands find his hair without your permission, tugging harshly at the roots. He groans into your mouth, a sound that makes you want to slap him across the face and wrap your legs around him all the same. His hand snakes around your waist, squeezing your hip with a fervour that will no doubt leave bruises that will take longer than usual to heal. He pushes against you, every single part of him rock hard.

“God fucking damnit, Kol,” his lips find your throat with painful ease, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth in a way thats just this side of painful over pleasurable.

Right now, though, you crave every bit of pain that Kol lays on you. In a sick way you’re proving that you can take it. That you’re strong enough to do the things that they do. Another flash of red floods your vision when you think of the other two Mikaelson's who refused to let you help. You drag one of your hands down Kol’s back, scratching hard enough for him hiss against your neck.

He jerks away from you quickly, only long enough to rip the sweatshirt over his head before he attacks your neck again. He sinks his teeth in at the same moment he rips your tank top in half, lulling you into that sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, hate and lust once more. His shoulders are deliciously toned under your searching fingers and this time when you drag your nails down his back you know you draw blood. Serves him right anyway.

“Fuck, baby,” he wraps a hand around both of your wrists, pinning your hands above your head, “that kinda hurt.”

You want to claw the smirk off of his face. Or kiss it. You can’t quite decide. His other hand is slowly sliding up your back, inching towards the clasp of your bra. His eyes burn into yours, the inferno behind them nothing less than intense. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so loud it’s almost hypnotic when combined with the tantalizing draw of his hand. It lulls you into a false sense of security, your eyelids heavy in anticipation. He stops moving when his fingers are about to undo the hooks.

He pushes his hips closer to yours, locking you between his body and the door. His stomach is hot against yours and cut like marble. Your fingers itch to feel every bump and dip with agonizing intricacy. Every inch of your skin is alight, every hair raised waiting for anything to happen. You can feel every breath he takes as if it’s your own, your covered breasts just barely grazing him with each rise and fall of his chest. It’s delicious torture.

“Before we go any further here, I need to know what you want. Do you want some quick fuck that’s going to leave you more angry when it’s done?” He rolls his hips against yours, sending sparks flying through your body at the first real touch you’ve had tonight, “or do you want me to make love to you like you know I can. And make all these terrible feelings go away. It’s your choice, darling?”

His words tangle and knot in the pit of your stomach, weaving through the white hot hatred that had been building in your stomach until it explodes. They hit you right at the source like missiles aimed with the utmost precision to destroy every bit of anger left in you. Tears prickle at the edge of your vision, your senses overloaded from the sudden loss of your fury. All that’s left in its wake is this gut wrenching feeling of not being good enough. It’s the original problem and he just effortlessly broke through to it.

“I,” you tug your bruised lip between your teeth, if only to keep it still, “make it go away, Kol. Please.”

“That’s all I want to do, darling.”

He releases your wrists, opting instead to haul your body into his arms and slamming his lips against yours once more. You waste no time running your freed fingers down his sculpted chest, admiring the way his muscles tense as he holds you up. You push yourself as close to his body as you can get, wrapping your legs around his taught stomach and clinging on for dear life. He kisses you slowly, as if drawing all the negative energy out of your body with his lips.

He walks the two of you backwards towards your bed, sitting on the edge, leaving you straddling his hips in the most delicious way. You push your hips to bring you closer together, wanting to feel every part of him that you can. He meets every movement with his own energy, wrapping an arm around you back to keep you pressed against him. Your body is warming up once more in his arms.

He pulls his lips from yours reluctantly, his hand snaking back to the clasp on your back, “this needs to go.”

You shiver at the light touch of his fingertips on your spine, arching with the click of the hooks coming undone. He pulls the lace from your chest slowly, his thumbs grazing down your arms, memorizing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. His eyes meet yours again and he drops the fabric on the ground next to your bed. His hands, now resting on your hips, trail fire up your stomach as they trace their way over your ribs.

“Kol, please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his chest so close to your own, “I need you.”

There’s a glint in his eye again but this time you don’t want to slap him. No this time you want him to do heavenly things to every part of you. You want him to take the last remains of this awful feeling and snuff it out with his mouth. His hands finally crest the remainder of your ribcage, his thumbs teasing the underside of your breasts with tantalizingly careful circles. Tears sting your vision again from all the pent up energy inside of you.

“What shall I do, darling,” his thumbs draw along the sides of your breasts, stoking the untameable fire in the pit of your stomach once more, “tell me how you want me to touch you.”

His fingers dance closer to their target, each stroke driving your brain further into it’s Kol induced frenzy. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell is the boy in front of you.

“Kol,” his name falls from your lips in a desperate moan, “please just do something, god.”

He chuckles, a sound that flows like honey and wraps around every inch of you like silk. His eyes sear into your own, daring you to break his stare but you don’t. You can’t

“Well I could do this.”

His thumbs roll over your hardened nipples, as if to punctuate his words, and you see stars. You don’t even try to stop the moans that tumble from your lips, turning to clay in his hands. You give him free reign to mould your body in any way he desires, as long as hands never leave your skin. He pinches each bud between his fingers gently, pulling more praises from deep within you. His eyes never leave your face, drinking in each expression with unashamed greed.

“Or maybe I could do this.”

You know what’s coming when he leans forward, It’s quite clear what his intentions are. However, what you aren’t expecting is for the first gentle nip to send you so violently crashing over the edge that you have to squeeze your thighs around him to avoid falling off the bed. He doesn’t stop when you cry out and you don't want him to. Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends you spiraling further into the sweet oblivion he’s created just for you. He rocks his hips against yours while his mouth assaults you, pressing the delicious hardness against you while you fall apart.

He detaches his lips from your lips when you start to come down from your high, kissing his way up your sternum, over your collar bone, before settling on your throat.

“So beautiful darling,” he pulls your skin into his mouth as if he didn't just get enough just moments ago, “so damn beautiful.”

You press down on his hard length again, pulling a groan from deep within his chest, “I want all of you, Kol. Please.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to flip the two of you over and lay you on your back. He kneels between your legs, hooking his thumbs in your plaid sleep shorts and pulling them off much faster than he had down with your bra. He’s more than warmed up now, something that excites you to no end. You’re left laying in a pair of black lace panties that match the bra on your floor.

Kol’s eyes go dark at the sight, a growl that hardens your nipples again rumbling through the air. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling the lace off of you once more and adding it to the growing pile of clothes. He kisses the junction of your thigh next, sending electricity rippling through your body. It restarts the heat once more and the familiar wildfire rips through your abdomen. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to stand many more orgasms if each one is to be like the first.

“Please just make love to me, Kol, I need to feel you.”

He lifts his head from your thighs, a sight that you will never grow tired of, and his eyes set ablaze, “I was made for nothing more.”

Your heart flutters rapidly in your chest, a warmth spreading like butter over your bones. He kicks his own shorts and boxers off quickly, moving back up your body to rest between your legs. You drink in the heat radiating off his body, allowing it to soothe the remaining ache leftover from your small throw down. His one hand slips under your head, lacing through your hair gently. The other reaches between you, lining himself up against your opening. The slightest touch of him against you is enough to have you mewling his name already.

He teases you slightly, taking his sweet time before pushing in. The first thrust is pure magic, filling you in the way that only Kol can. Each of you boys feel different. Kol lights every one of your nerves on fire with his slow movements. He makes you feel every deliberate movement. He makes you know that every circle of his hips, every time he joins you together is done to perfection exactly how he intends. Kol makes you aware of your entire body and just how much control he has over it.

He pulls back slowly before thrusting back inside of you hard enough to rock your bed into the wall. You clench around him without warning, pulling your name from his lips with mouthwatering ease and sending small shocks through your lower half.

“Christ, baby,” he rocks his hips deeper into yours, burying himself all the way inside you, “how are you so close again already.”

You giggle quietly from underneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips and rolling your own to meet his thrusts. Your hands glide over his shoulders, soothing the scratches you left earlier. You draw his face to your own, pulling his lips down to graze yours. You want him to feel every word you say.

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what you’re doing,” the end of your sentence is blurred with unrelenting moans.

His hand grabs your leg, pushing your knee to your chest before pushing you into the mattress with a world altering thrust, “you’re right darling, I just like to hear you say it.”

He closes the gap between your lips with another shattering push, your walls clenching harder than before around him again. You swallow each moan that slips from his mouth and into yours. His nutmeg scent clings to you and you know it will take days to scrub him off of you, not that you want to. You could very well spend the next century wrapped up in Kol in every single way possible.

He picks up the pace, slamming into you with controlled ease. Your hands lace through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. Your senses are overwhelmingly heightened, allowing you to feel every damned inch of him. You’re in serious danger of falling apart. The fiery ball in your stomach is at its peak once more. When he pulls your lip between his teeth, and you taste the crimson, it explodes.

This time you don't just see stars, you see the sun and the moon and every planet in the solar system. He continues to move in and out of you, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm as he rides his own out. You cling to him with everything you have, refusing to breathe anything but Kol. Everything in this moment is about him and the way he makes you feel. Nothing else matters anymore. Perhaps nothing even mattered before. All there is, all there has ever been, is this one moment.

When you finally land back on earth, he slowly pulls out of you, giving you one last taste of electricity before drawing you to lay on his chest. Your ears ring from the energy you just exerted at Kol’s mercy, your skin deliciously sticky against his own. You're completely and undeniably spent.

You don’t realize that you’re crying until you go to speak, “Kol.”

You feel the sharp inhale he takes rather than hear it. Before you can blink the fresh wave of tears away he’s flipped you around, laying between your legs again and propped up on his elbows. His face is pure concern, his eyebrows creased together in a way that makes you want to smooth every harsh line away. It makes you cry that much harder.

“Darling, talk to me,” he runs a soothing hand down your thigh, pulling you close to him, “what’s wrong baby?”

The tears pour faster at the gentle tone in his voice, drawing an answer to the surface before you even process what you’re saying, “Do they think I’m useless? Do you?”

Your voice is shattered, all the emotions from today coming together in yet another crescendo. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, drowning out the sounds around you. It’s probably the reason you miss the footsteps pounding up the stairs. You can feel Kol’s soft caresses but just barely. The only thing registering in your mind is the feeling of being completely and utterly weak. Why do they keep you around if you can’t even hold your own?

“God’s no, never. Not even a little bit,” just as Kol speaks, the door opens.

Well, the door slams open, hitting the wall with a crack that echoes through the large house. Kol isn’t startled. He should be but he doesn’t even flinch at the bang. You, on the other hand, tense underneath him, the pounding in your ears still as intense as before. A woodsy scent flows through the now open doorway, pine mingling with your already nutty skin. The pieces start clicking together, albeit at a slower pace than you like.

You’re almost certain you know who’s in the doorway but you look anyway to make sure, “Elijah.”

His name is a whisper and it gets lost under Elijah's own words, his dark eyes searing into yours, “Kol, do you mind giving us a moment?”

Kol glances down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. You plead with him to stay but this is Kol, he’s your hell-raiser. He places a soft kiss on your forehead before he stands, still completely naked, and walks out of the room.

He pauses on the other side of the door, settling a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “careful brother, she scratches.”

Elijah shuts the door when he leaves, much gentler than he had been when opening. Your boys, always the ones for theatrics. He leans against the frame, folding his arms over his chest. You stand from the bed, trying to meet his height but failing. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand but it doesn’t do much to clear the droplets. He tracks your every movement with a fire raging behind his chocolate eyes. You’re painfully aware of how much of your skin is on display for him; that is, all of it.

“What,” you pause when your voice cracks, stealing a moment to compose yourself, “what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off saving the day.”

He pushes off the door, taking a few steps towards you. You can see he's fighting back a lot of primal instincts. He's as affected by your lack of clothes as you are. His eyes shift rapidly between his usual brown and a deeper coal colour. Despite the situation, you can’t help the heat seeping from between your thighs. He stops a few feet in front of you. There’s no way he can’t smell you right now.

“I was needed elsewhere,” his eyes dip down momentarily, his jaw clenching, “by someone infinitely more important.”

You watch him squeeze his fists together, forcing his eyes to remain on yours. The determination in them is unwavering and fierce. He takes another step towards you.

“It seemed important a few hours ago,” you drop your eyes to your feet, breaking his stare.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him and, in turn, igniting your body, “I assure you it was not nearly as important as making sure that you’re ok.”

Your throat tightens, aching with the promise of even more tears. You wish you could just stop. You’re not afraid to cry but usually you can control it. Right now you can’t. Everything has been building, every little insecurity has pooled, and today was the chip in the damn needed to make the whole thing collapse. It’s too much.

“I’m not,” you wrap your arms tight around yourself, gripping your arms with bruising strength to try and hold back the tremors, “ I am not okay Eli. I feel so helpless. Everytime you come home bleeding and exhausted and where am I?” You run a trembling hand through your mussed hair, yanking at the roots, “Here. Always just here, useless, letting you and Klaus and Kol take it all for me. Am I really that weak? That I’m just extra collateral damage to worry about? What is it, Elijah?”

The words pour from you, each one making him flinch like he’s being hit by an invisible enemy. Every syllable is a bullet to his chest. His body tenses further, his eyes no longer holding any trace of their usual warm brown. Instead they're pitch black, the veins under his eyes a deep plum. The veins in his arms pop as well, his fists iron tight. He curses under his breath when you finish. His voice is gravelly and scrapes the deepest pit of your soul.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, whatever resolve he had been clinging to snaps. He pulls you towards him, wrapping his strong hands around your hips and lifting you against him, giving you a second to wrap your bare legs around his clothed hips.

“Elijah, what are you doing?” You cling to his chest, trying to avoid tumbling out of his arms when he begins walking you towards your bed once more.

He doesn't answer your question, laying you down against your ruffled comforter, “You aren’t collateral damage, baby.”

His voice is the lowest you’ve ever heard it, emanating from somewhere deep inside him. He opens the first few buttons of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head before making it even halfway down his chest. He drops it, much like he Kol had not long before, next to your bed. Kicking off his shoes, he kneels on the bed, coming to rest between your thighs. The heat emanating from you is now a furnace and it in no way goes unnoticed by him. His dark eyes swim across your naked body, drinking in every inch.

“Eli-” whatever you’re going to say is obliterated when he leans down and attaches his lips to the crook of your thigh, dangerously close to being exactly where you need him.

“You aren't weak,” he moves to your other thigh, nipping at the delicate skin and pulling unintelligible murmurs from your throat.

He kisses his way to your center, the anticipation growing like a knot in your stomach, begging to be unraveled once more. Even in the midst of falling apart you can’t get enough of these men. He lays a soft kiss against you, offering you the slightest glimpse of what you know his mouth can do. In the exact same way you had with Kol earlier, every part of you craves Elijah.

Your body arches willingly to meet the first swipe of his tongue, his name falling from your lips like a praise, “you aren't a burden to me, you beautiful creature.”

You cry out as he works his mouth expertly against you, his words humming ecstasy into your skin, melting away any trace of doubt in your mind. His arms wrap around your thighs, bringing you as close to his face as he can get you. The sight of him completely engulfed in your heat is almost enough alone to send you tumbling right there and then over the edge.

“You mean more to me than anything else on this fucking earth,” his dark eyes meet yours as he works you dangerously close to breaking before letting up once more, “and if I have to spend every hour for the next hundred years worshipping you to prove it then consider it done.”

He lowers his mouth against you harder, sucking your electrified warmth with renewed vigour. Your hands seek out his hair, tugging him against you and raising your hips to meet every pass of his tongue. The smell of pine trees and sex envelope you, brining you the closest yet to the kind of high only Elijah can draw from you. In this moment you’re nothing more than entirely his.

“I cannot lose you, baby,” he slips a few of his fingers inside you, “please let me protect you. I need to. Please.”

He curls his fingers just as the last syllable rolls off his tongue and into your core, shattering you into a million tiny pieces. Your hands fist his hair as your body clenches around his hand, pulling a delectable groan from his lips. Your third orgasm almost puts you to sleep on the spot, each of your muscles completely exhausted. Elijah watches you come undone the entire way through, nothing less than reverent awe locked on his face.

He wastes no time pulling your spent body into his arms, wrapping you as close to him as he can manage. You bury yourself against his neck, admiring how even the most unassuming parts of him have an undue amount of strength. He truly is your warrior.

“Eli,” you yawn into his chest, basking in the warmth of his skin, “I can protect myself.”

He tightens his arms around you, “I know you can, baby, but you shouldn't need to. I’ve been searching my entire life for a meaning. A thousand years of trying to be honorable. Then I found you and, all of a sudden, it all makes sense. All the searching and fighting and pain finally has a purpose: to protect you. Let me take it for you. Please.”

You’re speechless, there isn’t anything else to it. His words hit you with immense power, sinking into your skin and settling around your bones. You’re his, all of theirs, to watch over. You really didn't know he felt this strongly. You’ve always had to defend yourself. Perhaps you just aren't used to someone else being so willing to take on that task. Someone begging to take it.

He stands suddenly, with you still in his arms, and walks out of your room, starting down the hall. The faintest sound of rushing water fills your ears, lulling you into a welcome daze.

“Where are we going, Eli?” You have yet to open your eyes, stuck in the soft between being awake and falling asleep.

He kisses your forehead, resting his head on yours, “Niklaus said he wanted to take a bath, my love.”

[yan-twst]

Can you do hcs for the yan! Dorm leaders where their s/o falls into a sleep like death (from a potion, curse, or whatever) so the boys try to give them true love's kiss to wake them up but it doesn't work?

(rubbing hands together) mmm angst heartbreak yes i love it

warnings: general yandere themes, mentions of death

riddle rosehearts

riddle is losing his head when he’s informed his beloved somehow fell to poison- GET THE ANTIDOTE, THEN, SOMEONE...! he curses letting this happen; he should’ve held his darling on a shorter leash, he should’ve kept them under his eye...!

when he hears the only way to wake them is a true love’s kiss, he feels... relieved. hah! how easy- he can do that! his darling... loves him. right? ... RIGHT?

the scream that rips from his throat when his first, second, third kiss does nothing is heard through all campus

how- HOW?! he begins to bawl like a little child, shaking his darling and begging them to wake up, stop playing, leaving sloppy kisses all over their face, as if one of them would wake up

he’s going to have to be dragged away from his darling. riddle cries, screams, clutching his darling as he weeps- why... why won’t it work?! how... did they never love him?!

riddle had been telling himself all along all he did was for their good. keeping them under such strict rules, keeping them to himself; he was just doing his part in making sure they were ok- and yet... and yet after all of that, he hadn’t even earned their true love...?

he feels... lonelier than ever. it’s like he’s a little boy trapped inside his house again, with no hopes or dreams of his own; what does he have left now? his darling, what he valued the most... how is he supposed to even process this?!

he won’t hesitate to have his darling cared for, kept in a glass casket like with the many fair members of royalty who used to succumb to this sort of poisons- however... every once in a while, he’ll try again, kissing them; and every time it doesn’t work, he’s left a bit more of a broken man

leona kingscholar

the rage that flows inside of him almost makes him turn whatever he’s holding into sand the second ruggie alerts him of what happened- hell, he almost turns ruggie into sand just for saying such a thing, but he’s too busy running to his beloved

leona wastes no time. all he has to do to wake his little herbivore up is a kiss? that’s nothing, really. he wants them awake so he can punish them for daring worry him like this; but then...

ah. leona feels a bit weak in the knees as he waits and nothing happens

... his darling needs a true love’s kiss. and it... seems to be he is not the one they love.

a second of silence, then utter chaos. leona is enraged out of his mind- so not even now, is he good enough?! does he not even deserve to love?!

in his fit of rage, he’s close to hurting his darling, but in the end... he can’t. the bitterness in his mouth, the tears streaming down his face; so... in the end, he’s just good for nothing at all

their body, bruised from previous punishments, their face molded into such a calm expression compared to their usual fear and stress... it all feels like it’s mocking him, and yet...

for the first time in a long time, leona kingscholar cannot fall asleep that night. he’s restless: he’d grown used to holding his darling tight, growling at them whenever they dared move too much- and now he’s alone

even with his beloved in this death-like state, leona is possessive to a fault. he will not stand for anyone to gaze upon them; perhaps servants, once he returns home with them- when farena asks, leona will simply say they were cursed. he promises himself he won’t try to awaken them again; he can’t bear to face the truth again, but... on lonely nights, he tries, crushed every time his “true love’s kiss” does nothing

azul ashengrotto

there’s no facade, no act. when he hears of what happened he drops everything and runs to his darling’s side. poison, a true love’s kiss, death like state; it all swirls in his head, and he’s bawling by the time he’s holding his darling’s hand

they’re warm, that and their slowly beating heart the only signal azul hasn’t lost them to death. he takes a deep breath before kissing them, and then

... and then nothing. azul’s body freezes, colder than he’s ever felt in his life before. he tries again, then again- nothing. 

azul cries so hard he feels like he might throw up, desperately clutching his darling as he sobs. why? why won’t it work...?!

in his moment of desperation, he might even yell at his darling’s unconscious body. why won’t they wake up?! is he not their true love?! he’s- he’s all they have! how can they not love him?!

azul feels hopeless, empty. all this time- all he’d been trying to do was make his darling stay, to make them see how much he loved them, and yet- and yet here there was, undeniable proof that despite all his efforts, they’d never been truly his

he’s going to be a wreck. azul’s darling was a pillar for him- controlling them made him feel more in control. he’d bare his emotions to them, holding them close (even when they struggled) and to suddenly not only lose them, but to be forced to accept he wasn’t the person they loved the most...

in his desperation, azul will keep them by his side- in a glass coffin, surrounded by flowers... he knows they aren’t dead, but... they’ll never awaken- not until his kiss wakes them up. he is absolutely unwilling to let another even try to wake them: if his love... if he wasn’t enough to wake them, then... the mere thought of someone else’s kiss being the true love

kalim al-asim

kalim doesn’t even know how to react when he’s told what happened. images of jamil in a coma because of him, poisoned flash through his mind; it’s happening all over again

seeing his darling in such a state is enough to drive him to tears. usually, he’d be overjoyed to see them sleeping so peacefully, because it’d mean they were letting their guards down, trusting the environment he’d placed them in- but in this situation, he almost wishes they’d be grimacing at him or trying to scuttle away- just, anything...!

the only relief in his heart is knowing a true love’s kiss will wake them up- he can do that...! he’s always kissing them; what difference does it make, right? between his tears and his hiccuping, he calms down enough to press a kiss to his darling’s lips

... eh? why didn’t it- maybe he has to do it again?

... or one more time...?

with every kiss that fails to rouse his darling, it’s clear his despair is growing. his hands start shaking, then his body; soon enough he’s all-out sobbing, barely able to stand and unable to keep kissing from the intensity of his crying

how... when did his darling stop loving him...? everything he did was for them; the golden chains, the charmed jewelry, the guards... it wasn’t as if- no, he never wanted to hurt them, he just...! he’d just meant to protect them, so why...?!

kalim is inconsolable. he won’t hesitate to use his money to bring in medics from every corner of the land, from professional doctors to shady healers, but in the end, nothing can be done; they need a true love’s kiss, that’s all that can wake them. and he... as much as he loves them, he can’t give them that

kalim is going to keep by his beloved’s side, even as they sleep. they were always held down by him and his fear of something happening to them combined with his internal impulse to own them- and now, even in their deathlike state, it’ll be that way. having servants bathe and dress them, buying them jewelry and clothes; kalim won’t let go

vil schoenheit

vil knows of what the poison his darling drank does; a potion so similar to the one used by the evil queen in the legends, cursing someone into an eternal sleep:  and yet, able to be broken by a true love’s kiss...

because of this, he doesn’t stress much at first: sure, he’s throwing his usual hissy fits, cursing at the fact such an event even occured: his love potions are carefully crafted and shouldn’t cause harm when mixed with other things, but still...!

vil is fuming as he kisses his beloved: he hates they even allowed this to happen. hasn’t he taught them better than to accept anything other than what he offers them?! he waits for them to open their eyes to berate them

but they just... don’t

vil can feel his blood go cold when nothing happens after the kiss. why is- no, he knows that a true love’s kiss is the antidote; he hasn’t made a mistake, so why...?!

panic wells in his chest as he tries one more time. his lipstick even gets smudged and he can’t bring himself to care- they aren’t waking up. 

it doesn’t take too long for him to shake his darling and try to wake them. are they faking being asleep?! are they trying to fool him?! he knows- he knows they needed a true love’s kiss, they should be awake...!

vil spirals. how... how is he not their true love?! who else could they even see- nobody would ever put as much effort into a relationship as he did! it’s difficult to tell, but those with sharp eyes can notice telltale signs of stress on the model’s face

he isn’t above trying to force love potions or antidotes down his sleeping darling’s throat; something, anything to fix this situation, damnit! 

... but he knows it’s a fool’s errand. the true love’s kiss... he cannot provide. however, this doesn’t mean he’ll let go of his doll: he’ll continue to dress them, clean them, keep them around- they’re still alive, and they’re still his to maintain beautiful

idia shroud

idia already believes misfortune follows him- this is no different, is it...? he’s stressing out and almost pulling out his hair when he finds out what happened

a true love’s kiss... it almost feels like some sort of videogame plot. what a silly thing to have as a cure for this...! a deathlike sleep, eternal, sounds terrifying, but- he... he can do that, right? 

idia is terribly anxious, but he’s internally telling himself he can do this; it’s just a kiss! he’s done- he’s done way more before with them before- and then... and then he’ll save them!

he’s so deluded into thinking he can do this, that when it doesn’t work he just... stands there. tears prick his eyes and his breathing becomes irregular

why why why whywhywhywhywhy is he not their true love- is he not who they love?! HOW- HOW DARE THEY- IT’S THEIR FAULT HE CAN’T WAKE THEM!

idia is so distraught ortho has to step in. the robot child is terrified: not only is his big bro seemingly breaking down, his other parental figure is just- just laying there...? not responding...?!

he shouldn’t be, but he’s... angry at them. this is- this is their fault...! he loves them; so then if... if it’s not working then it’s because they....! the thought makes him feel like he can’t breathe

although... he can’t help but cackle as he cries at the realization they’re at his mercy now. oh, they’re asleep forever now... and in his grasp. as much as he’s despairing, he’s also laughing at the irony: they hated him enough to do this, right?! and now they’re at his mercy!

idia has no real ethical code when it comes to magic or machine building; he’s a prodigy and a genius. it can take time, but... he’s dead set on bringing his beloved back; if their human body is asleep... can’t he just build a new one?

malleus draconia

the lands are ravaged with storms as malleus’ rage swells when the news is broken to him. this is- this was the last thing that was supposed to happen, and yet...! his anger is palpable, air crackling with electricity and magic as lilia tries to calm him

malleus is so deeply attached to his darling. they’re his most precious jewel, the one thing that grounds him and keeps him working- seeing them laying down, eyes closed, the only clue they live being their breathing... it brings a bitter taste to his mouth as he rushes to their side

malleus is quite used to charming his darling to sleep in order to keep them under control- but this is different. he isn’t in control here; he can’t wake them with a wave of his wand... but... a true love’s kiss is what he needs, right?

malleus kisses them and waits. he waits for a while- perhaps... it needs time? it’s clear he’s stressing when minutes go by and nothing occurs. he’s a patient man, but this is... he can’t just wait for so long, this is- this is different!

continued attempts reap no result, and malleus’ despair and rage is growing. angering someone as powerful as malleus is always a dangerous game, but when it’s involving his darling...?

it’s clear malleus is just absolutely heartbroken. he understands; he... is not his darling’s true love. that’s it, isn’t it? it hurts; his anger and heartbreak are palpable

however... malleus isn’t just taking this as is. he won’t hesitate to try to use all of his power to reverse this; they’re his, and he will get them back- and even while he waits, he’ll keep them like a dragon guarding his hoard, despite the heartache threatening to make him lose control again

[tanzmajor]

endzeit romantik

loosely based on 11x23, bad ending - amara wins and the world is dying.

fandom: supernatural

pairing: crowley/reader

summary: the world is ending - crowley and you share a moment together

warnings: talk of adult themes, end times (the world is literally ending so IDK), light angst, crowley (he's a warning for himself lol), pretty sfw, swear words!

notes: not sure why i wrote this, i was rewatching spn while i was sick and wanted to write some stuff for crowley again. just wanted to capture a moment i guess! im wondering if ppl actually still care about him lol (title means end time romance)

word count: 2.3

The world was ending again because of the entitlement of the Winchesters. Earth would finally pay the price for their stubborn refusal to let the other die.

And you hoped that this time it would end for good.

It wasn’t the comfortable quiet before the storm like the last few times. This time, it felt so real – the end was finally so close for all of you. It wasn’t like those other moments, where you prepared to fight some greater evil that you could actually defeat. Amara was harsh – making sure things would end slow and surely. She made sure, that God was dying for good.

You remembered the apocalypse to be more light-hearted than all of this – you remembered sitting at the table with Ellen and Jo, encouraging Castiel to drink along with you. Seeing how much it would take for Castiel to feel something close to being tipsy. Given the circumstances, it was one of the fonder memories you had of that time.

This time you were stuck in the bunker with an even weirder cast of faces, including but not reserved to God. You were unfamiliar with those surrounding you. Not even the uncomfortable smile that Castiel would throw into your direction when you looked at him could fix that discomfort.

And what the strangest thing about all of this was, was how numb you were towards it all.

You never had to truthfully answer the question of what you would do when the world was about to end. The answer to that had always been decided by others, you just went with the flow – you never spared a thought about calling your family or taking that once-in-a-lifetime risk. But now you were sitting there, not talking or drinking like the others around you. You were sulking in a chair off to the side with furrowed brows – really reconsidering the choices you had made that had led you down to this path.

You should’ve run far away when Sam had approached you back then. Telling him to fuck off and never contact you ever again – you assumed that if you had done that, you’d be spending the last few hours that you had on this pitiful planet with your actual family.

You quietly thought about texting your mother. But what would you say? If you’d text her that you loved her out of nowhere – she would call and be concerned. How does one even break to their mother that the world was going to end soon?

You rubbed your tired eyes briefly. Maybe you should finally finish the last few pages of the book on your nightstand. At least then you could pass knowing you accomplished something meaningful today.

“Care to share a drink with me?”

It was that familiar voice that had given you a heart attack so many times before. You looked up to meet the gaze of Crowley looking down at you, ignoring the others around him like he always seemed to do when he was interacting with you. Dean shot you two a heated glare, a subtle warning to either you or Crowley. You weren’t sure if Dean was trying to tell you to be careful, or if he was threatening the man in front of you. Not that it would matter anymore anyways. Crowley twisted the bottle of scotch in his hand ever so slightly, letting you know that it was what he was talking about.

Spending your last hours next to the supposed King of Hell. Fitting. If there had been a greater logic behind all of the things that had happened today, this would be the next step. You silently wished that things would stop getting weirder and stranger – the thickness in the air of it all was slowly but surely suffocating you. You decided however, that Crowley had different plans. He would take advantage of situations like these – like he always does.

“Ah – I don’t see why not.”

You shifted in your seat to find a comfortable position for your back. Your hair fell into your face, and you quickly brushed it behind your ear. Now was not the time to worry about your looks.

You watched Crowley grab a glass for you and fill it up with the promised, amber liquor. You weren’t a big fan of the taste of pure alcohol, but it wouldn’t matter anyways. You were struggling to feel anything other than despair, and getting a little bit tipsy too fast seemed like a welcome distraction right now.

You watched his hand push the glass closer to you. You had taken his usual spot in the library corner – a tinge of guilt mixed into your other feelings. But only briefly. You nodded towards Crowley as you took the glass into your hands. He smirked at you. You furrowed your brows.

“What?”

You took a sip and watched him push a chair for himself next to you. He sat down, his own glass firm in his grip. His gaze seemed fixed on you. Something was on his mind and you could see it in the way he was looking at you. You didn’t have enough time to properly take the King of Hell apart in your head though. Not that you could anyways, you assumed that it was a task that would take you forever. Eternity if not.

“You trying to make some last deals or something?”

You watched his eyes roll. No one in the room seemed to pay attention to the fact that he was talking to you – not that he could do anything to you anyways. It was like you two were hidden away, behind the corner to yourselves. You assumed that Dean had a tiny bit of his leftover concentration fixed on you. You were frustrated by how overly protective he was being. It felt like a testimony to Dean’s selfishness – that he had the right to decide for you. Crowley spoke, and tilted his head to the side like he usually did.

“Would you like to?”

You huffed a laugh and smiled into your drink. It was an honest laugh, finding it amusing that he decided that now, this moment, would be the right time to cozy up to you.

“I don’t think I have any last wishes.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

With that, he returned to himself. Obviously reconsidering things as well – although you doubted that he was thinking about anything that could eat away at his conscience. He was a demon, so you weren’t really sure if there truly was anything that he regretted. Maybe he was thinking about his accomplishments, maybe Hell hadn’t been so easy on him after all.

You watched his features, and you could tell he was ignoring your hard gaze. There was tiredness surrounding him, like the centuries he had spent roaming this earth finally settling into his stolen bones. It was that expression he had when he thought that no one was watching. An expression only you ever seemed to really notice. You wondered if he ever got any rest. If he even had the need for a break.

You didn’t bother asking him any of that. You knew full well that even if the world was ending, there wasn’t any good reason to be growing soft on the King of the damned. Although, he did lose his shine in the past few years. He wasn’t as terrifying as he used to be. Maybe he didn’t want to scare you.

You told yourself that it was the desperation in you speaking. The end was so close you could feel it with your entire body – it was natural to struggle and yearn for something intimate. A soft moment between you and anyone, a love confession even. Something unexpected. Something to shake you to the core, to make you forget that it would soon all be gone. For a moment at least.

Maybe you should ask Crowley to come into your bedroom with you. To have fun while it lasts. He didn’t look too bad, and the prospect of doing something so wrong with him, would for sure change your mood for a while. You looked away from Crowley. You hoped that nobody was listening to your thoughts right now.

“I always liked you the best.”

You startled slightly when he spoke again, your eyes trailing from the hand on his glass up towards his face. You never had the chance to get such a close look at him. You weren’t sure what to do with the time at hand. You huffed.

“I’m flattered.”

You watched him take a sip of the liquor. He spoke again.

“You should be.”

Your eyes met his. There was something unspoken going on right now, as if he was trying to shift the conversation towards something specific. Maybe he had just taken pity in you. Maybe he had grown attached to you more than he would like to admit. He could also just be feeling gracious, trying to do something with the situation at hand.

You could hear Dean and Sam talk – both obviously trying to do the same as you and the others. Making something out of this. Enjoying the time while it lasts. But you also noted, that Dean seemed somewhat intoxicated. You knew that you all felt the same way – guilty. You had failed.

You downed the rest of the scotch – it burned in your throat. You shook your head slightly and scrunched up your nose. Something he noticed, but didn’t mention directly. You refilled your glass.

“You don’t drink often, do you?”

He asked, his gaze following your movements carefully. As if he would miss something if he didn’t.

“I try to not make it a habit.”

He squinted his eyes at you. You were quick to add something to your sentence.

“I’m not really a fan of the hard stuff.”

You shrugged your shoulders, sitting back down and leaning your head back to let it rest against the cushion of the seat. You looked at him with your tilted head. Your legs were stretched out. No matter what you did, the stress that wore at you wouldn’t release itself from your body. You weren’t sure if maybe you should get up and move around or do something else altogether.

“Can you blame me?”

“Oh, no not really. It’s not like you surround yourself with people of class.”

He said, rather amused. You knew he was talking about the Winchesters and their tendency to stick to what they knew. Cheap beer, cheap hotels and even cheaper food. You bit your lip, an amused smile now too on your face. Maybe this truly was his way of flirting with you without getting another demon-killing knife attached to his hand. He wanted something from you – what he wanted, you weren’t sure of. It’s not like it would be useful for him to make a deal with you. Both of you wouldn’t be sticking around for another 10 years anyways.

You couldn’t deny that your tendency to remain neutral towards him had always been something you despised yourself for. You weren’t sympathetic towards him – but he wasn’t someone you actively watched out for. You knew that the Winchesters were aware of this, so they usually tried to keep you away from him.

His manipulation tactics never worked on you, but it’s not like you really held your guard up around him. To you – he was like Castiel. Someone who faded in and out of your daily life. You didn’t even bother seeking him out when he had been stuck in the bunker with you, in the dungeon. You just knew that ever since he saw you and interacted with you while Sam couldn’t do the dungeon duties, he was drawn to you. As if something about the fact that the brothers tried to desperately keep him away from you was urging him to spend as much time with you as possible.

He couldn’t give less of a fuck about the Winchesters. But if a demon even thought about pointing a knife towards you?

You ignored those memories. You noted that Dean had put on some music. A song you didn’t recognize. You shifted in your seat to look around the corner to see Crowley’s mother, whose name you never seemed to remember, and Chuck sitting at the long table and talking about nothing particular at all. You assumed that Chuck himself would just ignore what was happening. Like always.

Sam caught your eyes and nodded at you. All of you were so fucking unsure of what to do, how to react or how to feel. You assumed that maybe only the non-human beings in the room with you were somewhat okay with all of this. That they in the slightest, maybe didn’t even particularly care about the situation at hand.

Crowley hadn’t really bothered to continue the conversation, more than contempt to just sit next to you and listen in to what Dean was now saying. Not that he was saying anything important of course, but at least he was doing something. You weren’t sure why he had asked you to drink with him anyways. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone. You were one of the few people in the room who wouldn’t turn him down, and he knew that.

Maybe he wanted something much different from you, but wasn’t sure how to voice it without making anybody around you suspicious of his intentions.

“If you want something from me you can just say it. I’m not really in the mood to care about consequences anyways.”

You chuckled into your glass, the ridiculousness of the situation feeling light-hearted on you. Maybe the alcohol helped just a little bit as well - to loosen you up. He once again looked you in the eyes.

“And here I thought I was so good at being subtle.”

Your expression was teasing – something he wasn’t used to seeing from you. The world was ending and you were flirting with the King of Hell. You couldn’t make that shit up.

“You used to be better at it.”

[sneyrwrites]

|| Homesick || Kuroo Tetsurou X Reader

✘ Wordcount: 4,5k

✘ Genre: Angst, fluff. smut 

✘ Warnings: NSFW

Author Note: What is it about my need to write angst lately? Anyway, Enjoy! (criticism is always welcome)

This started out as a 500 words drabble, but it got out of hand.

Kuroo had no idea how he would get through this fucking course without breaking down at some point. The worksheets and load of work he had to pull through would get him a few early gray hairs, his psyche suffering tremendously, but oh well... that’s what college was about. 

 The only thing he looked forward to was getting home, where you were probably waiting for him with a warm smile and a heart-melting “welcome”. Those were the time where he could feel all of his stress and negativity dissipate into thin air.

The sound of the lock opening brought a flutter in his stomach, him already anticipating the sweet relief of finding you there upon opening the door.

The cold and dark room was the only thing to receive him.

Oh, right... you were not there anymore.

You had left a long time now, exhausted by his constant neglect. Could he blame you though? Of course not.

If he was honest, in fact, he wouldn’t have put up with his sorry ass for half of the time you did. But seeing the empty shoe rack by the door, and the hangers stripped from that hideous scarf you insisted on wearing, he could not fight the tears that threatened to fall. What was he supposed to do now?

 The click of the switch brought light into his house, which he no longer called home. Kuroo ran a hand through his messier than usual hair, and sighing heavily he left his bag on the floor, not caring about his spilled books.

He didn’t feel like doing his project anymore, and talking to your mutual friends would only bring him more despair, as Bokuto seemed to only know how to talk about you.

The creaking of the mattress when he heavily fell on it used to bring him joy, because it was often accompanied by your soft giggle, followed by the usual “Tough day, huh?”

You had no idea.

You had no idea just how tough his days had been since you left, depriving his apartment from the spark it used to have.

It was unfair for him to feel this sour about the situation. Break-ups sucked, and he had every right to feel hurt about it, but he recognized his actions had lead to the outcome. You tear-streaked face would hunt him for eternity.

“I can’t handle this anymore Kuroo...” Your whispered words, so tiny and fragile, but so powerful at the same time, breaking his heart in a million pieces.

The words died in his mouth, so he just steeped aside, letting you go without even trying to make you stay.

All the I love you’s and promises he never got to make, all the late night snacks and pillow talks you would never share.

Now they were nothing but a wish, an illusion that dissipated into thin air.

The first week you were gone, he was resentful and shady over social media, like he was only a teenager who’s crush rejected. But, as Kenma had put it in simple words. He was just a sore loser.

You had tried your best, but the fights started to rise, In volume, in frequency, in anger. And they were about the stupidest things ever, like him not feeling like getting up on his sparse free moments to go out with you, him refusing to eat with you at the table. Once you were gone, he regretted letting all of his frustration and stress out on you.

Half of his helplessness came from a selfish place if he really thought about it. You were his mini vacation, his heaven on earth, and he had destroyed it, even noticing his mistake until it was too late and the sheets were cold, just like the half-finished cup of tea you had left at the counter, and he still didn’t have the courage to put away.

Akaashi’s couch was soft and comfortable, hugging your body as if it was a cloud.

But it wasn’t Kuroo’s bed. The warmth the boy irradiated as he sleeps was missing. The way he would sometimes mumble nonsense or when his hand would reach for yours in the middle of the night, simply because.

Those were the things you missed the most. At those times at night you couldn’t help but think. Were you over reacting?

You knew he was stressed about school, maybe you shouldn’t have been as harsh, but thinking about letting him go over you like if you were nothing but the shoe mat in the front door, made a bitter taste settle in the back of your mouth and a resentment you never wanted to have towards him bloom.

If you didn’t walk away when you did you would have ended up hating him, or hating him in the tough moments at least, because when everything was going good, Kuroo made you feel like you were floating, and oh so loved.

But he tended to lock himself inside his head, submerging in a spiral of unhealthy habits of insomnia and a full gallon of caffeine to keep going. Shutting you out completely, brushing your attempts at spend time with him off.

Sighing, you rolled on the couch by the tenth time that hour, restless and sad. Akaashi’s apartment was pitch black. The only thing cutting through all the blackness was your phone, displaying a picture of you and Kuroo, smiling at the museum, in front of a painting of Marie Curie. That one was taken in summer vacations, when he still hadn’t started his courses and could spend some time with you while being awake.

Maybe it was unfair of you to disappear from his life out of nowhere, just picking everything up and running to hide behind your friend, not able to confront Kuroo and see his reaction at your abandonment for more than ten seconds.

You turned again, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders slipping to your waist. You didn’t even bother to readjust it.

“You know, I Can hear your sorrow all the way from my room.” Akaashi’s voice startled you, Looking up you noticed his silhouette in the living room entrance. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and started towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea.”

Two heartbeats later, a steaming cup was in your hands, your friend sitting next to you, sipping his green tea in silence.

“Okay...” He said once he finished the cup, leaving it in the table. His voice calm and collected. “What is it? You obviously need to talk.” You kept silence, focusing on the pale color of your drink. It didn’t taste like Kuroo’s tea at all. This one was missing something... You sipped again, still unsure about speaking up about what was bothering you.

“ I know it’s about Kuroo, and I know you need help to figure your feeling out... But understand I Can’t help you if you don’t speak to me... I’ve been patient for the two weeks and a half you’ve been crashing in my couch.” He turned to you, resting his elbow in the back of it, his face supported by his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, i love having you here and all. But it’s obvious you don’t. Judging by the way you’re stabbing daggers at the tea...”

“Sorry, I just...” You didn’t know what to say. That you missed Tetsuro’s bed or his tea? That you could not get the way he sings in the shower to cheesy 80’s songs out of your head? Or the way your hand always felt empty without his in it? “I miss him...” That seemed to sum it up pretty well.

“I thought you couldn’t handle the relationship anymore...” He prompted

You shook your head, setting your still full cup in the table.

“I couldn’t... but I don’t know” You were bad at communicating, maybe that was one of the reasons you chose to escape rather than talk.

“Do you think you could have handle things different with him when it started getting rough?” Akaashi’s words were intense, just like the look he was giving you, his clever gaze analyzing up every single reaction you made.

Yeah, in fact, you thought about that.

Maybe that was why you were so restless, the guilt o knowing you could have done more for the two of you, but choose to do nothing weighted on your conscious

“You know, if you want to go back with him, that doesn’t make you any less strong (Y/N)... Sometimes we just don’t handle our emotions in the right way. And it seems to me that the both of you made a few mistakes... Maybe you should talk to Kuroo. Who knows? This time it could go better...” Akaashi got up and went to his room, throwing a “Try to rest” Over his shoulder.

What were you going to do? The shame of your actions overshadowed all logic and reason.

What if Kuroo told you to fuck off? He could hate you for all you knew.

You hadn’t made up your mind the next morning, still teetering on the edge to throwing your pride to the garbage and just beg him to take you back or just leave everything as it was. Time cured everything, right?

Coincidentally with this debate you were having between logic and feelings, your college sent you an email regarding a few missing papers you needed to hand over in the office. Bad -or good-thing was, you left that folder at Kuroo’s place thinking you wouldn’t need it anymore.

Seems like you would have to see him, you wanted it or not.

Three knocks on his door woke Kuroo up that Saturday morning.

He considered the possibility of just not getting up, too tired by his restless nights to function properly, but by the time whoever was outside the door knocked again he was walking to the door, throwing a random hoodie that was lying around his naked torso to look somewhat presentable. He didn’t want to look like a perv in case it was his landlady, a sweet grandma that was always nice and used to bring you cookies from time to time. Kuroo remembered tenderly those times where the lady and you would spend hours in the corridor sharing recipes and exchanging goodies.

He missed those days.

Kuroo opened the door and froze in the middle of zipping the hoodie up.

Was he dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time, Those weeks without you were a torture, and your memories usually haunted his dreams, you in the arms of someone else were a popular theme in his subconscious.

And now, you were there, right in front of him, close enough to extend his hand and brush the skin on your cheek. He was dumbfounded, not able to emit a word.

He thought you were no longer going to speak to him, sending Akaashi or Bokuto to pick up the remainder of your stuff.

“Um... Hi” You hesitated, trying to look at anything but his exposed mid drift, but failing completely. “Sorry to bother, but I forgot a few important papers the last time I was here.” you tried to say as nonchalantly as possible

“Oh... “ He said, stepping aside, letting you into the apartment you used to share. “Sure... Do you remember where it was?”

You took a step in and the rush of longing took you by surprised.

You missed that tiny and uncomfortable couch so much, and the horrible square pattern blanked Kuroo bought ant kept in the chair next to it. The curtains that would slap you in the face if the windows behind the sofa was open, everything there felt like home, and you knew you were the one to go away in the first place, but still.

Akaashi was right, you didn’t even try to talk to him before running away, too traumatized by past experiences to even try to make it work. Th tears choked you and threaten to fall.

It was too late. Asking to try again would be so selfish, after the mess you caused yourself.

“(Y/N)?” Tetsurō‘s gentle tone broke you out of your trance.

“Huh? Oh yeah, It’s probably in the bedroom...” Was it even appropriate for you to go inside his bedroom still? Kuroo must’ve noticed your hesitation because he signal with his hand for you to go first.. The flash of sadness in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you.

Everything was just as you left it inside the room. The same glass of water on the nightstand, your drawers only halfway closed cause you were in a rush when you left, afraid that you back out of your dumb and rushed plan to break up with him all of the sudden, thinking that way would be better, just like ripping a band-aid.

In the bookcase against the wall you spotted the red folder you came looking for. Once it was in your grasp, you really didn’t have an excuse to delay your exit from Kuroo’s house... that used to be your home, and that you wanted so bad to call it home once again.

Turning back to him, who was standing at the door you hugged the folder to your chest.

“So... this was it. Thank u Tets...” You noticed your mistake and tried to correct it “Kuroo... I better leave now.” You advanced towards the door, but his sulked figure blocked the way. “Kuroo?”

You looked up at him, and the tears in his hazel orbs stunned you. His lips trembled slightly and with a frustrated groan he rubbed his eyes harshly.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, keeping them covered. A broken sigh shaking his shoulders, “I hate this... I hate it so much...”

Your heart clenched, and you regretted not sending Akaashi in your place. He obviously wasn’t okay with you there.

“Oh um... Sorry, I’ll just leave now.” You attempted to sidestep him to get out of the room, but in heart beat his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.

The sobs of the boy you loved made his chest vibrate under your skin, and the pain he was feeling you could feel it too. You didn0t hesitate, and as if it was a second nature to you, you squeezed him harder, kissing the soft bare skin of his chest, as you felt your chest collapse into itself.

Could someone die from sadness and love at the same time? Because that was how you were feeling.

“I’m sorry... I know it’s too late and all... But I really am sorry...” He started, his words coming out strangled by the tears, but you shushed him as the tears slipped over your cheeks, leaving wet trails on them.

“Shh... I’m sorry too.” You chocked on a I love that you refused to let slip past your lips. He could be trying to move on, and this was just a minor setback, you would not be that selfish and just throw your feeling into him.

Still presses against his body, you sighed

You missed so badly the feeling of his arms around you, and the way your body fit into his in all the right places, his hands burying themselves in your hair as he brought you closer to him.

Kuroo Tetsurō was your home. The home you lost the key to, locking yourself out of it in a careless action.

“(Y/N)?... I’m sorry...” You opened your mouth to say it was okay when he spoke again. “I love you so much... and I’m so sorry I pushed you away...” The air was sucker punched out of your lungs. And now it was your body, the one being rocked by uncontrollable sobs.

You loved him too, but were too busy weeping to respond to his declaration.

Kuroo held you in his arms, while the both of you cried.

It was almost therapeutic, finally being able to apologize about his mistakes.

Something muffled came out of your mouth and he didn’t catch it, since the got lost against his skin, your warm breath tickling him.

“What baby?” He asked, and wanted to kick himself for it. He was not respecting your decision of separating with his actions and words, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming waves of emotions that watched over him.

“I want to come back home...” Kuroo stayed silent, processing what you just said. “I’m sorry for not trying to make us work Tetsu... But I miss you like crazy, and I was scared and I don’t know what I was thinking... I’m just so sorry...”

His response was simple. He hugged you closer, picking you up like he had done so many times in that same room.

He sat at the end of the bed, with you sitting on his lap, your head tucked in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your scalp.

Once the sobs retreated, you lifted your head and looked at him in the eyes. Your eyelashes were shimmering with the remaining wetness the tears left behind, your nose was red as well as your cheeks.

Your eyes scanned his face and Kuroo held his breath when you leaned in, your lips softly brushing his, almost as if you feared rejection.

He could never say no to you.

He applied a little more pressure and he finally tasted your lips again. God, how he missed the feeling of your lips against his. Your breath tickled his mouth each time you pulled away to take a breath in between kisses.

Kuroo’s hands went to your back as the kiss rose in intensity. Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your fingers pressing his arm.

Kuroo could feel his erection grow, pressing against his gym shorts, and he was sure you could feel it too by the way your face was getting hotter to the touch.

You readjusted on top of him, your hips straddling his, and the friction from the movement tore a moan from his throat. Embarrassed, he tried to kiss you again to hide his blush, but you pulled away and looked him dead serious in the eyes. He started to feel nervous and was about to apologize, when all of the sudden you moved again, grinding against him. He let out another whiny moan and an entertained glint flashed across your eyes.

Your fingers found the zipper of the hoodie, and the cold skin of your knuckles brushing him as you undid it, exposing his abs. You admired them for a second before kissing him again, breathing in his scent. Slipping the hoodie from his shoulders, a shiver traveled his spine when your fingers brushed the sensitive spot in his clavicle. And an amused smile twitched in the corner of your lips, as you brought your face down to meet your lips with his skin.

Your scorching mouth against his neck made his head spin, and when your teeth made an appearence, he could not help the clench of his stomach, the nibbles you left on his skin sending a tingling to his toes. He sucked in a sharp breath when to licked behind his ear all of the sudden, and the low chuckle on his ear snapped him out of the daze you had him in.

Grabbing your hip and back, he pressed you harder against him, and a gasp left your lips. Smiling smugly, he flipped both of you over.

Kuroo smile above you, as he teasingly trailed his fingers against your sides, until he came to a stop on the edges of your pants, looking at you once again to confirm you were still okay.

Your smirk was the only confirmation he needed.

He unbuttoned your jeans and he took them off, throwing the garment  somewhere behind him. His mouth came down to your lips once again as his hand slipped inside your underwear that was a dripping mess because of him.

Pride swelled his chest at the thought he was the one making you feel like this, craving his touch just as much as he craved yours.

When his fingers brushed your clit, a strangled moan came out of you, and oh how much he missed the sounds you made when he touched you like that.

He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, his mouth claiming yours, teeth pulling your lips and soft words whispered into them as his finger kept stimulating you, a fog settling over your mind.

“I love you so fucking much...” His mouth went to your chin, and kept going down, trailing your skin, an electric shock struck you from head to toe when he kissed that one spot in your hip he knew drove you crazy. “So fucking beautiful...” He praised.

He kept going down, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs and his breath brushing over your cunt and making you whine out his name.

“Kuroo...” You said. Your hand digging into his hair as your eyes flutter closed.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, and you could even hear the mock in his tone. You were going to respond, when his teeth nibbled the sensitive skin, careful not to hurt you.

Pulling aside your underwear, his mouth found your pulsating sex. And a shock wave of ecstasy filled your body. It didn’t take too long for him to have you at the edge, your toes curling and your hand clutching his hair. Heaving breaths rose your chest and with one last flick of Kuroo’s tongue an orgasm hit you full force, his name coming out of your lips.

“Tetsu...” A series of spasms rocked your body, and your legs clenching around his head, and Kuroo Chuckled at your reaction, amazed at the intensity of your pleasure.

Once you came out of your high, Kuroo settled next to you in bed, his erection still present and bothering him a little, but he was content with making you feel good. He needed nothing else. He could take care of his arousal later.

Rolling over you sat on top of him, leaning down you kissed his neck as you dragged your hands down his abs, feeling the smooth muscles underneath your fingertips, and you noticed just how much you had missed the intimacy you both shared. Your hands kept traveling until you found the elastic of his pants and pulled them down, brushing his swelling member as you pulled the garment down, stripping Kuroo of his last garment.

With his pants out of the way, you could feel the heat from his cock against your wet pussy. He helped you take out your shirt and kissed the exposed skin in between your breasts.

You rubbed on him once more, and the friction ignited the fire in your stomach. You circled Kuroo’s neck with your arms, and leaned you damped forehead on his chest, soft moans coming out of your mouth.

Lifting your hips slightly you aligned Kuroo’s dick with your entrance and in one swift motion you were filled to the rim with him.

“Shit (Y/n)!” He threw his head back, fingers digging at your hips, as you slowly adjusted to him. “God, I love you so much, I love you so fucking much baby...” Kuroo hissed. Kissing your temple, he then guided your hips up and down, feeling every inch of you tightening around him.

Your moans were shushed by his mouth, while your hips kept moving, feeling the way his member pushed at your walls, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.

Switching up the pace, Kuroo sat up and picked you up. Laying you on your back you admire the sight of him, his smooth skin and tall frame, his muscular legs and abs, his gentle hands, and his eyes that were so full of love.

You turned around, lifting your ass up and inviting him in. An almost animalistic growl left his throat at the sight.

“Please Tetsu...” You looked at him, with your eyes full of lust and a glint of mischief  in them. “I want you inside of me”

In less than a heartbeat he was inside of you once more, his hips colliding mercilessly with your ass, the lewd sounds of skin against skin mixed with the whimpers that involuntarily came out of your throat as he pounded your pussy like he wanted to.

“Fuck, I missed so much being inside of you.” He grunted, biting his lip.

Kuroo picked up his pace, and you reached for his hand. Intertwining your fingers, he kissed your knuckles, leaning to bite your neck playfully right after.

You could almost feel his abdomen twitching with the need to release his load inside of you. Your chest was flushed against the bed, as Kuroo’s rhythmic movements hit every right spot.

“Tetsu...” You whispered. “Please cum inside of me... I need you.” You begged, aching to be filled by him once more. Your words caused something on him, as if you had stepped on the gas .

The thrust of his hips got more intense and fast, hammering your pussy like it was the sole purpose of his existence. Your thoughts were jumbled and the only coherent thing on your mind was his name, so that all you said.

“Fuck” He moaned, his erratic pace almost matching the beating of your heart. “Oh god baby.... shit.”

With two last powerful you felt him filling you with his cum, releasing three weeks of frustration and desire.

Kuroo tried to pull out of you, but you prevented it, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to rest on top of you, his bare and sweat covered chest against your back.

A content sigh left his lips and he kissed your shoulder, and your heart could have exploded right then and there.

“So... Now what?” He said, asking the question you were too afraid to voice.

You didn’t know how to precede. Did he wanted to try again? Or was this only a fling of the moment and nothing more?

“Hey.” He called your attention, shifting slightly so he could be lying half of his body on the mattress. You turned your head to him and came nose to nose with him. Kuroo placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Quit over-thinking and be honest... I won’t get mad if this is really over and you regret this thing we just shared.” His face showed a vulnerability uncharacteristic of him and your heart clenched.

“What do you want?” You turned the question around, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

Without hesitation in his voice or in his eyes, he answered

“You.” He pecked your lips, pressing your foreheads together. You observed his beautiful eyes as he reassured you. “That’s all I ever wanted... You’re my home (Y/n), this house feels empty without you... My life feels empty if you’re not sharing it with me. So... what do you say baby, do you want to give us another chance?” He asked.

“I’m happy to be home Tetsu...”

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 11: Discharge Plan

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: The highs of Shane and Sy’s first weekend as a couple are followed up by some big news from Sy, leading to our couple’s first fight.

Don’t miss a session! Click here to catch up on this story or explore my other works!

Word Count: 2.7

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, smut, sort of unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, angst, alcohol consumption,

Author’s Note: First off, I wanna talk about the word “victuals.” I’ve loved this word for a long time, even though it makes no sense, phonetically as it actually rhymes with the “fiddles” or “riddles.”(It’s true, look it up!) It’s very pastoral and somewhat archaic, so you don’t hear it too much anymore in current writing about the present, but I just felt like Sy would say it. Secondly, it was really hard for me to put my darlings through the argument in this chapter. I want them to have only happy times…but that provides no tension or motivation for story development…and I want to keep writing them more than I want them to be happy… I guess I finally understand why authors torture their characters! Lol! It might take a bit of time for me to sort out what their relationship looks like adding the distance factor, but I have some ideas that might work. Also, it might be an opportunity to do a bit more of Sy’s perspective, which I thoroughly enjoy, and may go back and fill in some blanks for him in between chapters I’ve already done. I hope you all enjoy this installment of the Treatment of Captain Syverson! Feedback in any form is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

@wheretheriversrunintothesea

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful relaxation. Sy went to his place to feed Aika and bring her over at Shane's insistence. The dog had been slightly standoffish with her, but Sy assured her that it was in her nature to be aloof, and that she needed to be engaged or instructed to behave more doglike.

"It's her training. She's still a soldier. It's hard for us to shake those habits. Like me calling you 'ma'am' at first."

"She's another die hard. I respect that." she chuckled, scratching Aika behind her perked ears, and eliciting pants of contentment from her.

Sy's skills with a spatula were unmatched. That was to say, he made the best pancakes she'd ever had. They almost didn't need syrup…almost. They ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeout which lasted them about three meals each. Sunday evening, though, which had a gloom to it no matter the circumstances, required some comfort food. They agreed on pasta, so Shane made up some of her famous alfredo sauce and probably twice the recommended portion of pasta for two humans to consume. There were no leftovers. Sy had three helpings, himself. Three heaping bowls of it. Shane couldn't handle more than one and a half servings, even though she wanted to gorge herself. She knew too much would make her ill.

When they weren't eating, the were cuddling on the couch, or in Shane's bed. They watched more Parks and Rec, and a few other films and shows that Sy requested, just to break things up. Their bodies were constantly wrapped in each other, leading to frequent bouts of making out, fooling around, and sex in almost every room of the house.

Her favorite had been the shower. She insisted on getting cleaned up, but Sy had objections.

~~~~~~~~

"I'll be less than ten minutes, come on, I reek! You can't wanna kiss me when I smell like this!" she said, trying to shut the bathroom door on the human mack truck before her. Broad and formidable.

"You smell like sex, and…me, darlin. I've never wanted to kiss you more," he said, backing her up toward the shower doors. "but I guess if you must. Lemme help, though." he pulled open the glass door, forcing her into his captivating kiss, and maneuvering her backward into the walk-in, stone tile shower. He pulled off her tank top, capturing her breasts in his hands and mouth for a moment before kneeling to remove her shorts and kiss her thighs. He pulled himself away too quickly and started the water flowing.

"Sy, you're fully dressed!" he was barefoot, but otherwise, in jeans and her favorite of his tees. The letters DILLIGAF across a skull, black on red. She always laughed on the inside when she saw it. Because although Sy often had to put on a calloused and brusque act when he'd been an officer in the Army, he was terribly soft and sweet when the occasion called for it. The irony being that although he didn't look like he gave a fuck, he actually did.

"I've got more clothes in the truck and you've got a dryer." he maneuvered her under the pulsing stream of the showerhead. "Gotta get you wet." he let the water run through her hair as he reached for her shampoo, a coconutty concoction that reminded her of summer, squeezed a bit into his hand, and lathered it up. He worked the suds into her wet hair gently, raking his nails across her scalp in a way that excited and ignited every atom in her. She sighed at his touch which made him groan with need.

He tilted her head back to rinse the lather out and reached for the conditioner. He was a bit more generous with it than strictly necessary, but she didn't protest. He pulled her hair forward in two sections, one over each shoulder and worked the emollient into the strands. His hands slick from the product, he ran them over her breasts and her abdomen and hips…between her legs. There her own arousal was primed to combine with the tropical unction. She gasped as he worked his fingers over her, slow at first, but speeding up, only to slow again. When she finally whimpered in frustration, he undid his jeans, and backed her up to the stony grey wall, not giving a fuck, as his shirt had suggested, that he and his clothes were getting soaked. His only care now apparently, was to satisfy the simpering cries of "yes, please." from Shane.

His first few thrusts were slow and measured, knowing that she was still adjusting to his size. But it didn't take long for him to lose control. She wasn't sure what was making him like this, but she was not complaining in the least. The texture of his jeans on her bare, wet thighs was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget. She gripped at him, holding onto his shirt for dear life as her climax built to impossible heights.

She was loving the way he lost himself in the ferocity of the act. And his release led to hers immediately. She wrapped herself around him in blissful embrace, and whispered his name as a prayer.

"Sorry, darlin,' I meant to…"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill and I'm not at a particularly dangerous time in my cycle."

He kissed her tenderly and reached for her bath puff and some body wash. "Well, let’s get ya cleaned up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only good part about Monday was that she'd be treating him. Although, he was scheduled in the afternoon. Her morning would drag on eternal.

He greeted her with a typical "hey, susnshine" and she led him into the gym, feeling his gaze on her ass, wanting, even though they'd just left each other quite satisfied that morning. He was freshly showered, beard well groomed, and his hair growing back in very nicely. He'd asked her weeks ago whether he should keep the buzzed look or not, and she had been entirely for growing it out. She wanted something to run her hands through. She'd be fine if it was at least shoulder length, but she wouldn't push that on him.

They did their normal warm up on the bikes, followed by some plyometric drills, which made him scowl at her in a way that lit her up like a firecracker. But the fact that he was able to jump up onto the box was encouraging. He couldn't have done that a month ago. He was progressing so well and was so close to his long term goals and discharge. It almost made Shane sad. It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other, but having him break up the insanity of her day three times a week for just an hour was invaluable.

As they were doing their usual end of the session stretch in her treatment room, and she noted the improved range of motion he was getting, he broke the amiable silence with a question.

"Hey, can I bring a pizza or somethin' over for dinner tonight after you get off?"

"Sure!" she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back. She prodded. "Everything okay? You've been a bit…off today."

"I'm good. Just a little distracted." he deflected by touching her hip, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She swatted him away.

"Not here, Sy."

"But that makes it fun!" he pouted.

"No, that really could get me fired! Getting frisky on company time!"

"Mmmm, I'd love to frisk you right now." he reached between their legs to try and grab her again, but she thwarted him and pinned his wrists at his ears.

"Cool it, cowboy, or your last two sessions are gonna make you wish you'd never met me." she threatened.

"Ain't nothin', nothin' on God's good green earth could make me wish that, sunshine." His stunning blue eyes softened her resolve and she let go, continuing to stretch him.

"Still…cool it." she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd just had time to change into some comfy clothes, wash her face, and put her hair up when her doorbell rang.

Sy stood smiling under the porch light, a modern white knight, carrying a large pizza from Pizza Hut and a six pack of Miller High Life.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! And it's nice to see you too, Sy!" she laughed, teasing him.

"Should I leave the victuals and go?" he asked, mock concern on his sarcastic brow.

"Get in here, soldier."

She got out napkins and paper plates because as horrible as it sounded, she just couldn't think about doing dishes tonight. She was even glad Sy had brought drinks in disposable or recyclable containers, and not wine, which she tended to prefer. She was exhausted, but not upset, which made the silence they ate in bearable. Sy still seemed to have something on his mind, though.

"Did you have something you wanted to talk about tonight, Sy?"

"Kinda, yeah, uh…it's kind of a big thing for me, and I know this is new, what we have, but…well, I'll just tell ya."

"Go on." she encouraged, worried.

"I…I talked to my old CO about jobs in the private sector. He referred me to a company that…well it's sort of an employment agency for vets. Mostly security for private companies and individuals. I had a phone interview with them this past Tuesday. I just got a call this morning that they want to meet me in person to finalize everything. Mostly a formality. When I go for that, I'll also have to stay there a couple of weeks to a month for training."

"Where is this…gig?" She said, flat affect hiding the feelings brewing under her skin.

"The offices are in Charlottesville…Virginia. And there may be some cross country training there in Shenandoah National Park."

"Cross country…by that do you mean survival training?" She was still cool, but getting more livid.

"You could call it that, I guess. But it won't be a challenge for me. I'm more worried about the technical stuff." His bravado and flippancy about the whole endeavor was enraging her. The thought that he'd be in the wilderness alone, was only a fraction of the big picture. He was going away for a month? And he had known about the job for a week now. A week in which so much about their relationship had changed, and shifted. How could he think she'd just accept this without a bit of raging.

"You waited until after we slept together to tell me this. You did it on purpose, Sy." that was the biggest problem, she thought. The fact that he seemed to be hiding it from her. It brought back old trauma that she thought he'd never have subjected her to.

"Yes and no, Shane. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, I just didn't wanna bring it up until somebody bit."

"You wanted to keep me in the dark about something you were excited about? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up or mine. Honestly."

"Saying 'honestly' doesn't make it honest, Sy. I've told you about everything that Elliott put me through. The lies. The secrets. This puts a bad taste in my mouth. You have to see that. Can't you?"

"Oh, sunshine, I--"

"No, please. Do not do that right now. Don't call me sunshine when all I can see is the night."

"I'm so sorry. My intention was not to make you feel in any way like that asshole ever did. Please hear me when I say that. I want to be the opposite of him in your mind in every way, darlin.' Please believe that."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, now nearing tearfulness that she felt he must be telling her the truth. She nodded. But was still apprehensive about the nature of the job and the training.

"But…what if you get hurt again?"

"I won't. You've all but fixed me, Shane. I'm stronger than ever."

"Can't you just…find a safe job? Here?" She was being selfish. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew she might regret it.

"Sit at a desk, ya mean? Deliver pizzas?" he indicated the box between them on the table. "Call people and ask them if they're happy with their cable services, Shane? Is that all I'm good for now?" he was angry.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, of course not. You're a PT. That's what you were meant to do, right? Well, imagine if you couldn't do that no more. Something or another, an injury, perhaps, or just plain ol' shitty situation, left you in a position where you couldn't go back. Couldn't do your dream job. Couldn't fulfill your purpose." he spat. "Wouldn't you do anything you could to be some shadow of what you were meant to be?"

She couldn't speak. Because he was right in so many ways.

"Because right now, I'm nothin'. I'm not doin' anyone any good. I'm a drain on my country, the one I swore to protect with my very life. It's like I've broken an oath. And it's fractured my soul."

"I see that. I truly do. But I need you here. You do ME good, Sy. I'm already half dreading d/c'ing you. I don't wanna have to say a goodbye, too." it was her truth. But it hit him very much sideways.

"So…what is it, Shane? You only want me when I'm broken? You only want me so you can fix me?"

"No, of course not! That's not what--"

"Am I a charity case to ya now? Is that why ya finally gave in and let me in your bed?"

"Sy, no!" she was crying now. It had hurt so much to think that he could have gotten that from what she'd said.

"I think if you can have feelings hurt about this situation then so can I."

He stood to leave, but she caught him by the wrist.

"Shane…you know I would never, ever harm you. But please… don't test my limits. Let… go." She did.

She was still quite a bit faster than him, so she ran ahead and blocked the door.

"Move." he insisted. She didn't.

"Hear me out, and then I'll let you go."

He crossed his arms and nodded, his gaze still one of cold steel.

"Sy, I didn't mean to make this job that you're clearly excited for into a source of anguish or to make it about me. I'm thrilled that you're going to get to do something you want in another field. I really am. I just…being with you has made me realize how good life can really be. And even if you'd told me before we slept together, I would have said the same thing. It was selfish of me to haul my baggage into the conversation when you aren't, have never been, and could never be Elliot. His best couldn't compare with your worst. And I will do my best in the future to think about who you are before I complain about the work you find to do."

"It's like I said about Aika before. She's a soldier. Hard trained. And so am I. It took a lot of hard work for me to get where I am, so much that it fundamentally altered who I am as a person. Now, in my opinion, those changes were for the better. I was kind of a shit before I became a soldier, thought the sun rose and set with me. I got some perspective and met some good people…lost some, too. Saw some shit I can't unsee. Some of it haunts me to this day, and I figure it always will. But I reckon if I can keep fighting the fight somehow. Keep protecting people in whatever way I can, my training and experience won't be a total waste."

"I understand and respect that, Sy. And I will back you in any way I can. I'll water your plants, I'll keep Aika whenever you're gone, I'm here for you."

"Oh, shit! I wasn't even thinking about having to leave my dog behind! Maybe this WON'T work!" he chuckled.

"Second fiddle to another woman already. I knew you were gonna break my heart, Captain Logan Syverson."

"Never intentionally, sunshine." he hugged her, tight, and with his whole body. Their argument in the past and their future an exciting mystery. Shane had never felt so safe and loved.

Up Next: Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

[oftenderweapons]

Where, when and how - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader 

Wordcount: 1.0k words

Genre: smut, fluff, (Taehyung’s contains a fair bit of angst)

Rating: 18+

Hello lovelies! Since quarantine is separating many lovers all around the world I thought about how the boys would handle being away from their girlfriend. It’s obviously smutty. Every piece is about 1000 words each.

Trigger warning: swearing; smut, hinted and sometimes pretty descriptive, really it depends. LOADS OF SEX TOYS (it was supposed to be a sex-toy themed thingy because yay!self-love and yes, you can use them together with your significant other too), some mild bdsm here and there, praise kink (you know where it comes from), swearing and alcohol (nothing extreme, just tipsy), masturbation and that should be pretty much everything. Also, nipple piercing? Tae is frustrated, Jimin is the bratties brat to ever brat (takes one to know one LOL) and Koo is a switch (and by switch I mean he’s shy but nasty, and I still don’t know what’s his trigger).

You can find the hyung line here

Pssst--- here is my masterlist---

Jimin

You loved listening to Jimin, especially when he came home in the evening and told you about his day. You loved chitchatting while preparing dinner, you loved having his head on your lap, his fingers intertwined with yours, your free hand caressing his scalp and handcombing his hair. You loved his tenderness, his voice growing sleepy as it got late. You loved climbing in bed and feeling his hand snake around your waist from behind you, naturally and innocently palming your breast as he fell asleep.

You were listening to his voice through the speakers of your phone, video calling each other as you made dinner and he had a brunch together with the boys in Paris. Last night it had been their last concert of the European Tour and soon they would be heading back to Seoul, even though their schedule included a couple weeks in the US before actually returning to their motherland. He wasn’t yet allowed to tell you their plans but supposedly they had to meet a coreographer and visit a couple studios.

It was extraordinarily hilarious to watch him talk as he filled his mouth with continental breakfast, sickeningly sweet apple juice and pain brioche and bacon endlessly flowing around him. Every now and then he interrupted himself to reply to the boys, who sometimes appeared behind him, sleepy, a bit groggy and absolutely exhausted. Suga was propped on his elbows against the countertop, his eyes closing again as he waited for coffee, Namjoon, with a disgusted expression hugged the sugar bowl to his chest and poured a worrying amount of sweetener in his oversized cup of coffee. JK, his shirt sweaty, was drinking a smoothie after his morning workout. Taehyung was nowhere to be seen, but knowing him, he was probably still sleeping.

“Jin hyung yesterday had a flimsy shirt. I think we have never seen that much skin of him! It was so windy!!!” Jimin said, imitating the shirt lifting, his teasing voice all out while his eyes disappeared in a big smile.

You had held on pretty fairly for the whole tour, always taking twenty minutes to have a chat almost every day. You had visited him mid-tour in New York for a couple days, but otherwise you had endured the distance with a tight-lipped smile.

But right now you felt your heart chipping slightly, tears coming to your eyes. You promptly swiped them away.

Jimin, always so attuned to your emotions, noticed it right away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s the onions!” You smiled and quickly went back to your cooking. But he knew. Seventeen more days until he could see you again. And hold you. And lose himself in you again. He wasn’t bold enough for steamy video calls like Tae. And it’s not like those could provide the kind of emotional support that made him crave for intimacy and reassured him after it. But still, he wanted you to know.

So that night, after making his suitcase, he entered a website he had been tiptoeing around for a while and started exploring, sometimes with shame tinting his cheeks, sometimes with curiosity capturing his stare, sometimes with desire warming his loins. After a thorough analysis of every single category, he checked the basket and proceeded to shipping and payment.

A couple days later you awoke to pictures flooding your twitter feed, your beautiful boyfriend and his six band mates walking out of the LAX airport, Jimin wearing a flowing, quite see-through sky blue shirt embroidered in lilies, his delirious ballerina legs clad in his usual skinny black jeans. Blonde and gracious, lips pouty and pink, sunglasses on, he waved at the crowd and disappeared inside a grey van with a flirty grin. You barely held in a moan. And the long time without any kind of intimacy was most definitely getting to your head. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your panties, almost ready to give up on your intention of waiting for Jimin to come back and get you wild. But right in that moment your doorbell rang and you quickly donned a robe to answer the door. As you saw the delivery boy from the security cam, your first thought was that you had not ordered anything and out of suspicion you properly got dressed. But when he got to your apartment’s door he mentioned the name of the sender and everything made sense, though you hadn’t quite expected a surprise. You thanked him and got inside, package in hand, straight to the kitchen where you grabbed a knife and tore the seal. It was quite heavy and big, and the tag name was not recognisable. With increased curiosity, you opened the lid and saw a small envelope. It had been typed but it seemed to be signed under Jimin’s safe name, Your angel fairy.

“There are things you promised me and things I promised you for when I come back. But there is just one thing we both promised to each other for eternity. And that is Love. Every single object in here is only aimed at that. For a loving heartfelt and gentle as a cherry. For a loving playful and childlike like tickles. For a loving sparkling like twin falling stars. For a loving loyal and enthralling like chains of gold. For a loving sturdy and stinging as wood and leather. For a loving precious like a gem. And finally for a loving eternal as the darkness of the night. To my beloved,

From your angel fairy.”

He had really splurged on this.

You bit your lip in anticipation and tried to guess who was who. Because for those seven types of loving there were seven corresponding items. The first one had to be the massage candles. You once had told him you wanted to try and massage him with those and probably cherries were his fragrance of choice.

The second must have been the tickler, the delicate white feathers perfectly matching Jimin’s personality and taste. Twin falling stars was a bit trickier but at the bottom of the box you found a smaller elegant box containing a delicate chain with two star-shaped, sparkly nipple clamps, which you absolutely adored.

The chains of gold must have been the fine jewellery harness designed to wrap around your neck, snake down between your breasts and loosely hang around your waist in multiple strings.

The wood and leather must have been the double sided paddle, one softened with some padding and leather, the other nothing but unforgiving hardwood. A corner of your mind went back to that time he had brought your large wooden hair-brush on top of your bed and asked you if you wanted to try it on him, you remembered how you had curled a hand around his cheek, comforting and reassuring him, praising him, showing that there was nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. The bright red colour of his behind the morning after, your worried expression and his face hiding in your neck when he told you not to worry because he had enjoyed every second of it.

That loving, precious like a gem, could be nothing but the buttplug, which you had confessed you wanted to try on yourself during your last escapade in New York. You looked forward to that.

And finally the darkness of the night - the blindfold. Black and silken.

“A little bird told me you received a package... How do you like it?” There it was, Jimin’s text. You couldn’t wait for that little brat to come back home.

Taehyung

Brazil was beautiful. A beautiful hot mess. He felt sweat in his every nook and cranny, the humidity sticking to his skin even though it was almost midnight. As he got out of the shower he looked at himself in the mirror. He still felt messy.

He also felt like calling you. Right then and there.

He felt like being at home and walking in your shared room naked and getting head from you. With the windows open and some night breeze flowing in.

“Thinking about you.” He simply texted.

“Just out of a meeting. Can’t wait to head home.” You replied. “But I still have a lot to do.”

“I miss you in my bed.”

“Do you, now?” You were half walking half texting, waiting to get your lunch.

“I need you to get rid of some steam...”

“Tonight, promise.” As your order was ready, you quickly proceeded to eat.

Taehyung didn’t reply. He was tired and you were busy.

He collapsed in bed shortly after putting down his phone.

His sleep was troubled, he woke up tangled in the sheets, his leg thrown over a mountain of pillows and his hips were agonisingly pressing against the humid white cotton. Again, he felt sweaty. And turned on. He felt compressed. Like a clown inside a box that jumps out when you open it. He wondered what it would take for his box to be opened.

When he woke up he saw your “good morning” text, replied quickly before rinsing his face and hitting the gym in the hotel. He overworked himself in hope it could get the thought of you out of his head. Instead, every exercise had him thinking about new ways to fuck you, a stronger, healthier body meaning nothing but much more force and more experimental and effective angles. Jungkook and Jimin obviously noticed, while Namjoon and Jin kept obliviously running on the treadmill.

“You think he’s angry?” Asked Jungkook.

“Just repressed. We should tell the girls to warn his girlfriend. Maybe we should have her come meet him.”

“The trip is long and she’s gonna be jet-lagged out of her mind. Let’s just tell the girls and have the two of them figure it out.”

Jungkook told his girlfriend through text: “Can you tell Tae’s girlfriend to call him? He’s getting sour.”

“Told her. She said she on it. Luv you. Later.” Jungkook blushed thinking about his plans for later that night and then moved on with his exercises.

Taehyung kept bench pressing like he wanted to lift the whole world with his two bare shouders.

At around four pm, his phone far away from him to keep him from doing something stupid, Taehyung was stage rehearsing, his voice rougher and angrier than ever, his whole body craving for release and intimacy. At this point Yoongi too had noticed, giving a small side glance to Jimin, who shook his shoulders in hopelessness.

As he grew more and more insufferable, Namjoon saw it was almost six pm and called for a break, immediately nearing Taehyung and taking him aside for a while.

“What’s wrong.” Namjoon didn’t approach the matter softly.

Taehyung took a pause. Namjoon was almost tempted to call Jimin. Maybe he knew how to deal with this. Maybe he was too rough, too direct or too logical rather than emotional, he could —

“I miss her, hyung.” Taehyung said. Namjoon exhaled heavily. He knew how that felt. “I miss her and we call each other every day, we text, but it’s so bad. I miss everything about her. I thought it was a crush and that it would be easy. After all we’ve been dating for a couple months and...” Namjoon waited, his eyes fixed on Tae. “But I think I’m in love. It’s like, here.” He pressed his fist between his ribs and his stomach. “And I’m so tense, all the time. At night it’s even worse. I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Namjoon waited as if to let him speak, but apparently he was done. “Do you want to call her? Take the rest of the day off and we go on without you?”

“She’s sleeping right now. Fucking time zones. And if I call her, it will get worse.”

Namjoon knew. The wanting, the longing. It just intensifies.

Namjoon checked his phone. “Okay. Rehearsal’s almost over anyways. You just need to survive a couple more songs, then we’re gonna take a night just the seven of us, yeah?”

Taehyung nodded.

“Also, schedule a video call. We’ll be in London in four days and time difference will be easier.” He patted his shoulder. “And please, get laid. Or you can take it out on the stage tomorrow. Army will go feral if they see you like this.”

Taehyung chuckled.

“Do we have anything scheduled tomorrow morning?”

“Concert tomorrow night so no schedule until 11. Jin, JK and I are hitting the gym at nine, if you wanna join.”

“We‘ll see.” Tae smiled. He felt better.

Rehearsal ended up okay after that, Taehyung in a more playful mood. As soon as he got to his phone he saw one of your texts, he was tempted opening it right away, but he waited when he saw it was a lengthy voice note.

He arrived in his hotel room and hit the shower straight away. He was supposed to meet the others in half an hour, and he knew if he laid down and listened to your text he would get distracted and call you. As he got out of the shower he got dressed and sat on the bed, his phone tempting him. Damn it. He opened the text.

“Taehyung-“ A heavy breath. “I’ve been missing you.” Your voice was soft and delicate, almost sleepy. “It’s five am and I can’t sleep.” A raspy moan followed and he had to rewind the text and turn up the volume. Moan confirmed. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Your hands on me, everywhere. The way you kissed me before you left.” This time the moaning was clearer and louder. “Every time I touch myself I feel like my fingers aren’t long or strong enough compared to yours.” Tae felt that comment in his bones. He would be late to dinner anyway. From his phone you emitted a small whimper. “Good, the way you went down on me. I’ve tried toys that could possibly substitute you as long as you’re away but no toy could ever look at me like you did that night, with your mouth latched on my clit and your hand grasping my thighs.” He could almost taste you. God, that night had been indecent to say the least. “I can’t wait to have you back. I’m gonna have you laid out in bed, spread wide on top of the sheets and I’m gonna ride you until I can‘t even remember how much I missed you.”

Now Taehyung moaned himself. He texted you. It was nine am in Seoul, that meant you were at work, that meant you’d be worked up all day long.

“I’m free tomorrow morning. That is tonight, to you. I wanna see that nasty shit you’ve been up to with my wanna-be substitute. Maybe if you’re good enough I’m gonna send you a little something too. But you’ll have to earn it.”

He was already going to send you a golden necklace with a vibrating pendant anyway.

Jungkook

He didn’t let himself think about you much. Just ten minutes in the shower. Sometimes eight were enough, it just depended on how turned on he was. Even though your trip to Australia was making things difficult, you still managed to see each other every day or so. Sometimes you just had dinner with a screen in front of each other, chatting about your day. Sometimes you called after dinner, a glass of wine, some laughter, the boys coming in every now and then to say hi and ask how you were doing. Other times it was strictly the two of you, your soft voice reassuring him as he confessed how he was feeling. This distance had seriously improved your communication, especially since there was no way to use body language to express feelings and emotions. You reminded him daily that you love him, always telling him before you closed the call. He told you daily about what was going on and how he felt about it. He really hoped you would keep being so talkative when you came back. Most importantly, he hoped you would keep praising him. Sometimes he did exactly what you wanted so that you would praise him. He realised that the more he expressed how he felt, the more loving and praising you grew.

Your stay in Australia was supposed to last a little more than five weeks. Three weeks had gone by quickly, always busy with paperwork or work appointments. However, lately you had started missing Jungkook a little bit too severely. You knew he was shy and you would never press him into doing anything he didn’t hint at you. So when one night, after a glass of wine too many, he started talking about how much he missed your body, you replied encouragingly, leading him on.

“What do you miss about it?”

“You know. Waking up beside you. Feeling you next to me early in the morning.”

“I miss that too. Starting the day without you in the shower is difficult,” you teased, pushing it a little.

He blushed a little. “Do you miss that too?”

“I miss all of that. Do you?” You filled your glass once more. Maybe it would help you loosen up a little.

“You know I do.” He mirrored your gesture and took a sip.

“It feels good when you say it,” you answered, undoing a button of your blouse.

“I miss your body a lot. Even though I don’t usually think about it. It gets worse,” he said, eyes were glued to your fingers.

“I’m happy that you told me. It makes me feel like I’m not alone in this.”

“You are not alone. But I wish I was there.” He was going to evaporate.

You took a deep breath.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“Kiss you. Straight away. I’d hold you so tight I’d almost suffocate you.” He didn’t hesitate one second before answering your question. But then he took a long pause. “I would pick you up, wrap your legs around my waist. Lay you down on the bed. Kiss you harder.”

You licked your lips. “Have you been hitting the gym more often lately?”

He was a little bit confused by your question but he nodded.

“It shows. You look stronger. Makes me wonder how good it will be when we do it again.”

His mouth hung open. “I—“

“Use your words, sweetie.”

His situation got even worse as he blushed for the nickname. And then his whole demeanour did a 180. “Forget the bed. I think I’m gonna slam you against the wall. You’d be wearing a skirt and it would be so easy to slip inside you.”

You worded the next sentence carefully. If you pushed it too much, he would emotionally ball up like a hedgehog and shut you out. “Would you have me against the wall?”

“Fuck you standing? Yes, babe.” He pressed his tongue against his cheek, then clenched his jaw. His hand was laying on his thigh, slipping slowly to his crotch. Nothing you were going to notice since his camera was on his face and part of his chest.

“But you know I’m heavy, right?”

“You’re not that heavy. I can pick you up if I want to. And lately you’ve been looking thinner. I hope you’re eating. I love feeling you up,” he purred.

“I’ve been working out too. I have to get you out of my head.”

“What do you need to get out of your head?”

“All the things I want from you.” You needed him to push you a little.

“What do you want?”

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah, and? Come on, babe, use your words.” His smile was borderline sadistic as he used your own words against you.

“Messy, sweaty. I don’t care if it hurts. I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll be feeling it for days afterwards.”

He moaned a little at that. How tight you would feel around him... He realised it was the right moment to tell you. “I got us something.”

“What?”

“It’s supposed to arrive by the time you’re here.”

“Really? What is it?”

He took a deep breath and then he started spitting out words at an alarming rate.

“The other day at the gym there was this couple doing something like couple yoga or something, and she was hanging from a hammock of sort and I couldn’t help but think about how intimate it was and how much I wanted to do that with you and I got us a swing.”

“You what?” You brought the glass to your lips again. Smiling.

“I got us a swing.”

“What kind of swing, baby?”

“That kind of swing. I saw it in a... video, sometime ago, and I remembered it and I wanna use it with you. If you want to, I mean, we don’t have to—” He babbled adorably.

“What if I want to?”

He inhaled and took a sip of wine.

“I can’t wait to use it with you. I keep imagining the sound of you slamming against me. I’ll moan for you so loud and lovely that everyone will know you’re loving me nice and good. You’re amazing, Koo.”

He basked in your compliment. “Come back home soon. Otherwise I’ll have to come and get you. Cuff you to my own wrist and bring you back to my side, where you belong.”

“Can’t wait to put my hands on you. My mouth,” you murmured, one more button coming undone.

“You can’t right now, but if you take off your shirt maybe you might convince me to take the first plane to Sydney.” 

His hand had already undone his belt and he was almost going to undo the button of his jeans when you said, “do you think I could convince you if I told you I’m not wearing a bra right now?”

He looked shocked. “You should show me.”

You quickly undid your blouse and let it hang open. That’s when he noticed something glittering.

“Is it...”

“I thought I could use the time away to get it done, so it can properly heal.”

Right there, on your right nipple you let the small piercing show.

“You’re so getting fucked when you come back. First I’ll get my tongue on that and you know exactly where it’s gonna go next.”

You grinned devilishly. “Good, because it’s all I’ve been thinking of.”

[hoodedsuns]

Neverending Story | Kim Seungmin

Genre: Fluff & Angst

Summary: You find yourself going back to the train station where all the memories of you loving him stayed, existing there as a neverending story.

Word Count: 2.1K

The heels of your worn out court shoes clicked rhythmically against the hard material of the railway platform, the sound bouncing off the walls in an echo, cutting through the comforting silence as you headed towards the very end of the station. Walking past the neon yellow coloured safety line, you allowed yourself to teeter against the edge of the platform, the heels of your feet occasionally leaving the floor as your toes pointed downwards towards the train tracks. 

You had always wondered what would happen if you ever fell down, what would happen if a train just so happened to arrive, what would happen if you had decided to finally end your mundane life. Huffing in exhaustion you pushed your random, unwarranted morbid thoughts to the very back of your mind, choosing instead to collapse unceremoniously onto one of the cold metal benches, wrinkling your nose at the rusty smell that it emitted. 

Slipping the straps of the tote bag off your aching shoulders, you stretched your arms upwards as far as you could, letting out a satisfied groan at the relief and pull that your muscles felt after sitting in the same position for the entire day. 

Taking a proper look at your surroundings, you took note of the lack of people present. In fact, you were practically the only person here save for the cleaner who was skiving off work, sitting on a bench like you were but with his phone in hand, eyes glued to the screen as he chuckled to himself occasionally. The peacefulness was something you greatly appreciated, especially after such a long and mentally exhausting day. 

While it would usually be very rare for a train station to be this empty considering the fact that this was typically considered the rush hour where everyone left work, the emptiness wasn’t uncommon around here since you lived in a rather small town accompanied by an understandably small population. 

No one ever visited this place except for the occasional runaway or adventurer, eager to find something special here only to be disappointed when they finally figure out that this place was as drab on the inside as it seems on the outside. So what were you, a resident, doing here instead of heading home? 

That was a question you asked yourself everyday.

You weren’t sure when it had started becoming a routine to visit this place everyday after work, your legs habitually bringing you here while you zone out for most of the walk. You were stuck in a dead end job, had no close friends, had no one to go home to ever since your grandparents passed away and you were honestly pretty numb to being alive. Without any aspirations and with your childhood dreams long forgotten, you were lost, unable to find a sense of purpose or direction in life. 

Perhaps that was why your legs always brought you back here, to this very train station where all the rose coloured memories of you loving him stayed despite how much time had passed since you last saw him. After all, it was where you had first met him and where you last saw him.  

“You had such a shy smile on your face when you were dared by your friends to talk to me.” Chuckling at the memory, you gave his head a gentle pat as he buried his red face into his hands, internally cursing you for once again bringing up the story of how the two of you came to be friends. 

“You were so embarrassed that you were stuttering and stumbling over your words but honestly, I couldn’t pay attention to anything you were saying. You looked so beautiful in the pouring sunlight that I completely blanked out.”

Seungmin. That was the name of the boy who had transferred to your local high school from a faraway land. The boy who had impacted your life in ways that you never even knew was possible, and the boy who had taken your heart with him as he left this suffocating town on this very day 6 years ago. 

In the beginning, it felt as though a wolf was slowly clawing away at your chest, starting off as a dull ache before slowly morphing into unimaginable pain. 

You felt a sharp stab in your heart whenever you would enter a classroom or the cafeteria, eyes darting around excitedly as you tried to spot his figure, only to remember that he was no longer here. It was especially hard having to walk home alone everyday when the journey was usually filled with laughter and light bantering. 

But even though he wasn’t with you physically, you could never truly run away from him. 

Even now, you would sometimes find yourself thinking of him, wondering how he looked like now or whether he was eating regularly. His soft voice would appear in your head no matter how much you tried to block it out, his face always popping up in your mind no matter how hard you tried to erase the memory of him and that breathtaking smile of his. Deep down however, you knew that you didn't truly want to forget the time you spent with him. 

You didn’t want to forget all the times he’s helped you out when you were in a pinch.

“No! Please Seungmin, I really can’t afford to fail math.” You clung on to the edge of his hoodie desperately, restricting him from walking any further away from where you sat. 

“Then pay attention when I’m explaining something, we only have a few weeks left before the test.” He grumbled, annoyed by the way your eyes kept wandering around the diner, focusing on everything but the study material that Seungmin was trying his best to dumb down for you. 

“I’m sorry minnie, I promise that I won’t get distracted again.” That wasn’t fair, you knew that he couldn’t bear to refuse you when you used that endearing nickname on him. 

He rolled his eyes, pretending to think about it for a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat and sitting back down onto his seat. “How about this. If we can finish these two chapters by tonight, I’ll treat you to some ice cream.” 

The way your face lit up only made Seungmin even more certain that you were definitely worth the money and time. 

You didn’t want to forget all the times the both of you messed around, enjoying your youths.

“Come on Seungmin it’ll be fine, you gotta live a little!” You teased playfully, dragging him by the arm to join the long line of people queueing for the biggest rollercoaster in the theme park, The JawBreaker. 

Seungmin wasn’t afraid of thrill rides and he definitely didn’t mind going on one, but he really wished that you would’ve at least let him grab a churro from one of the food carts to satiate his rumbling stomach. His whines were effectively shot down by you insisting that he shouldn’t consume anything before getting onto the ride in fear of him puking, a valid point that he couldn’t argue against. 

The line ended up moving way faster than he thought it would, much to his delight, and before he knew it, the pair of you were already at the front of the line. 

“Hey seungmin...maybe we shouldn’t ride this.” His gaze latched onto your terrified one, realising that you wanted to chicken out after seeing the ride up close. And as the great friend that he is, he used it as an opportunity to make fun of you. 

“You’ve gotta live a little.” He said, mimicking your voice and earning himself a pointed glare from you. “Unless you’re too afraid, then I guess that I’ll allow poor little you to exit the queue since I’m just that kind.” 

There was no way that you were going to leave the queue after he said all that, you’d rather force yourself to sit the ride than give him the satisfaction. You both ended up going back for a second round. 

But most importantly, you didn’t want to forget the way he made you feel. 

"Come here." Seungmin stood with his arms wide open, a clear invitation for a hug to which you accepted without hesitation, relishing in the way his warm arms wrapped themselves comfortingly around your trembling body. 

"Shh it's alright, I've got you." He whispered, stroking your hair and brushing away your endless tears with the gentlest touch. "Nothing can hurt you, not while I'm around to protect you." In that moment, you surrendered yourself completely to his embrace, choosing to believe in him with all your heart.

Blinking your eyes in surprise, you brought your thumb up to swipe at your wet cheeks. When had you started crying? Feeling a sudden rush of vulnerability, you wrapped your arms tightly around your body, hoping to mimic the absolute security you felt when you were in Seungmin's presence. But you should've known that it was a futile attempt. 

Now that you were thinking of it, that was where you had first realised that you were hopelessly in love with your bestfriend. He always held you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, and maybe you really were in his as he is in yours. 

And maybe, that was the problem. You didn’t have a safety net prepared to catch you when your world came crumbling down from his unexpected departure.

"You're leaving me?" You choked out, heart dropping into your stomach at Seungmin's sudden confession. He held both your hands tight in his, eyes trained onto your shoes as he purposefully avoided your eyes that were shining with hurt, knowing very well that they would crush his resolve and ultimately end up convincing him to stay. 

"I promise that I’ll return to you. If you call for me, I’ll find you no matter where you are.” Biting onto your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, you flung yourself onto him in what could very well be your last hug with the boy. And you’d be damned if you didn’t savour it for all it was worth. 

“Know that I love you, farther than tomorrow and longer than eternity.”

You placed all your trust into his parting words and for a while, it was the only thing that kept you sane as you ventured into the terrifyingly unfamiliar yet expectedly underwhelming world of being an adult. But ultimately, the logical side of yourself won you over and you knew that you had to move on. 

And in a way, you did. You made new friends and had a few flings here and there, all of them ending with the disappointment and frustration of not being able to feel anything as strong as the connection you had felt with Seungmin. 

But even so, and against the better judgement of your pessimistic self who tried hard to suppress the faint glow in your heart, you knew that a part of you was still holding onto hope that he hadn't yet forgotten about you. That you still meant something more than just a blur of a person from his past. 

Hearing the telltale rumble of a train coming into the station, you kept your head down low, picking at the unravelled threads of your old tote bag in hopes that none of the alighting passengers would have to bear witness to your unsightly state. Judging from the faint footsteps that walked past you, it seemed as though only one or two people had gotten off the train which wasn't very surprising. 

The thing that was surprising however, was the set of footsteps that you could hear stop right in front of you for a moment before it continued, the sound getting closer, indicating that the owner of those footsteps was walking towards you. 

"Shh don't cry, it's okay. You're safe with me." The moment you heard his voice, accompanied by a pair of arms that wrapped themselves securely around your body, you couldn't help but let a broken sob escape through your quivering lips, tears gathering rapidly in your eyes. 

Clutching onto his shirt like a newborn baby unwilling to let go of their mother, you looked up at him through your blurry eyes, nostalgia filling up your entire being when you were met with that bright grin of his that brought light streaming back into your world. 

A flurry of emotions rushed through you as did a wave of questions. You wanted to scream, jump around, ask him how he had been, but all that you could get out was a relieved, "Your smile hasn’t changed one bit since I last saw it.”

"Neither has yours, my love."

[justanotherlifeff]

Levi Ackerman × reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, matured themes, slowburn

Warning: There's mentions and descriptions of underage rape and suicidal themes and self harm and other triggering stuff.

No one's POV

Year 845: The day when wall Maria fell

"(Y/N)! Thomas! It's time for breakfast!" Gloria shouted from the dining room. Thomas, (Y/N)'s father, was sitting with (Y/N) in the living room. One of them busy with paperwork and the other with an interesting book borrowed from Erwin. (Y/N) didn't have training sessions with Erwin for a while, as he was on an expedition. He was supposed to return by now, but, he would be going to Wall Rose directly. (Y/N) kept her book down and followed her father out of the room to the dining room. "(Y/N), I cooked potato pancakes for you. Aren't they your favourite?" Gloria, (Y/N)'s mother told (Y/N) with a smile.

"Thank you" (Y/N) said softly, with her usual frown etched up on her face. It pained both Gloria and Thomas (L/N) that their adoptive daughter, no, they saw (Y/N) as nothing less than their own child, couldn't show emotions properly. It started after the incident with Jacob, one that they regretted ever since it happened. Only if they had the faintest idea of what that wretched man was doing to their beloved daughter... They consulted doctors from wall Rose to make sure (Y/N) is back to normal but the doctors only told them to be careful and not let (Y/N) get hold sharp objects.

They assumed (Y/N)'s aggression had something to do with her past in the underground, much like her self harming habits. They didn't know, however, that this would only push (Y/N) away from them. It's true that (Y/N) couldn't show emotions properly, but, that didn't mean the (L/N)s would love her any less. The day passed by normally, and just as Gloria was washing their plates for lunch, with the help of (Y/N), there was the sound of a huge explosion. "Gloria, stay with (Y/N) inside the house. I'll go see what that was" Thomas told the two of them before getting out. They waited for about fifteen minutes before a Garrison soldier knocked at their home.

"The wall of Shiganshina is breached! Gloria-san, your husband is helping with the evacuation. We need you to go to the barracks and gear up." the soldier said hastily. "Okay. Cadet Schultz, take (Y/N) to the evacuation boats. I'll catch up later" Gloria told him calmly. (Y/N) was witnessing everything. She knew enough about titans. She read about them in the books of Erwin's library. "Mom, I want to go with you" she told Gloria. Gloria looked at (Y/N)'s eyes, surprised that her eyes showed more emotions than she ever saw her express. There was fear, concern, love... "Honey, it's dangerous. I promise I'll be back before you know it with your dad." Gloria smiled as she felt (Y/N) hug her tightly. She knew that the chances of making through this was low. Very low. "Go now. We will be fine." she told (Y/N) before sending her off to the boats.

(Y/N) was sitting on the boat, hugging her legs. There were too many people here and she couldn't see any of her parents. There were no other soldiers here on this boat. "Maybe the soldiers are coming on a different boat?" (Y/N) thought. When the boat docked in Wall Rose, (Y/N) saw Erwin Smith standing there on the dockyard. She pushed through the crowd to go to him. When she reached him, she asked, "Are my mom and dad okay? Where are they?". "(Y/N), we don't have news about the soldiers fighting there yet. We will know by the next day. Right now, I need you to come with me. You won't be staying with the refugees as it is not safe. I arranged a home for you. You'll get good food, good clothes and a good place to sleep there." Erwin explained with a smile.

(Y/N) held his hand and went to the place he mentioned. It was a government run orphanage. Erwin mentioned that he had to pay money to let them take an extra child at this time. The matron looked like a kind motherly looking woman to (Y/N). "Be nice to everyone. Okay? I'll bring news about your parents as soon as I can." Erwin told (Y/N) with a kind smile before he left. (Y/N) remembered that something like this happened before.

"Don't be scared. You are safe now. No one will hurt you again." the blonde man told (Y/N) as he used a hairpin to unlock her cuffs. (Y/N) was huddled into a corner, scared that these men will take advantage of her like every other time. "It's okay. Everything will be okay. What's your name dear?" he asked with the same kind smile. "(Y/N)" (Y/N) managed to croak out. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I'm Erwin. Everything is going to be okay." he said, smiling. Everything didn't become okay.

"Was it happening again?" (Y/N) thought. "No. It can't be happening. They promised me that they will be back" (Y/N) brushed away the thought.

The next day

It was dawn. (Y/N) was sleeping on the bed assigned to her. The other children didn't talk to her yet as she spent most of her time in the matron's office. The matron was an amazing woman. She was nice to (Y/N), tried to give her as mental support as possible and made food almost as tasty as her mother. "(Y/N) dear? Wake up. Erwin Smith is here..." the matron called (Y/N), her face concerned. The whole orphanage was quiet, none of the other children were awake yet. (Y/N) walked towards the matron's office with the matron, a walk that seemed to go on for eternity. When she reached, (Y/N) saw Erwin sitting there, looking tired. "(Y/N)..." he started but (Y/N) interjected by saying, "They are dead, aren't they?".

There was no visible emotions in (Y/N)'s eyes. After all, she felt dead. Just her body was still functioning. It happened again. "Yes. Your parents died heroically, saving many citizens with their lives" Erwin told her, trying to make her proud. "They broke their promise. They left me too. They are no different from other people. They are just as bad as everyone else." (Y/N) stated, as if she was in a daze. "(Y/N), I'm sorry.." Erwin tried to say but (Y/N) stopped him. "It's not your fault, uncle Erwin. It's them." she told him, before walking to the bathroom. "I need something sharp..." she thought as she searched the bathroom for a blade.

A week later

The matron introduced (Y/N) to the other children as she decided that (Y/N) couldn't curl up in her office with a book forever. After all, (Y/N) was a permanent resident. There were twenty other children in the small orphanage. (Y/N) of course, didn't give any heed to their names at first because, of course, it was all pointless. What was the point of being alive anyway? What did she have left? Except her uncle Erwin? She was sure that he was strong enough to deal with her death anyway. He was the one who made her as strong as she is now.

It's because of him, she's still fighting. After the matron went away, telling (Y/N) to talk to the other kids, (Y/N) simply went to a corner of the room and start reading the book in her hand. It was the books and the agony in her body from the cuts she made on herself that kept her mind at bay from the death of her parents. She, of course, stole bandages from the matron's office to keep the bleeding at bay so that she wouldn't die. The cuts weren't too deep, just deep enough to sting for a whole day and heal up. She just had to make more cuts after it healed up.

"Oi brat, you think a newbie like you can just sit and read shit without working?" a young boy, much bigger than (Y/N) walked towards her, with another girl and a boy with him, all of them bigger than her. (Y/N) merely looked up from the book with a vacant expression. "Don't give me this look, you shit! Go do the dishes!" he shouted. "Isn't the matron supposed to assign chores? I remember doing mine this morning." (Y/N) answered to him calmly. "Listen, newbie, we make the rules here. Go do the dishes!" the leader of the group tried to speak in a menacing voice.

"I refuse to do it unless the matron asks me to" (Y/N) simply answered but just as she did, the boy took the book from her hand and tore it in half. "You two, get her" he ordered the other two kids who started kicking (Y/N). (Y/N) could’ve easily beaten them up but she remembered the advice from Erwin. "Be nice to everyone" he said. (Y/N) didn't flinch even when they hit her in the areas with cuts, she was accustomed to pain. After all, she always had these habits and also went through training with Erwin.

These went on for a week. When those kids, Sean (the leader), Lena (the girl) and Paul (the other boy) found out that (Y/N) doesn't react to beatings, they started picking up on her in different ways. One day, they poured horse shit in her drawer full of clothes. The other day, they burnt all her books. (Y/N) still didn't move from her decision to do their chores for them. After a week, Erwin came to visit. Erwin decided to visit (Y/N) every week, to brush up on her training. Her training was complete before the fall of wall Maria, but, he still decided to spar with her sometimes, so that she wouldn't loose her practice.

Erwin also was fond of the small girl, almost as if she was his own daughter. It's true, Pixis asked him to train her in the first place and also got (Y/N) the place in the orphanage using his power in Trost, however, as Erwin trained her, he realized that she was going to be a deadly weapon if she ever joined the military, or the survey corps. Erwin, however, wasn't keen on her joining the survey corps due to the mortality rate. He didn't want (Y/N) to die as she was almost like the daughter he never had. Erwin was a ruthless person but, (Y/N) seemed to be one of the very few soft spots he had. As he sat in the matron's office, he saw a calm but angry looking (Y/N) enter the room. He figured something was wrong. "(Y/N), is everything okay?" was his first question to her.

"I don't like this place." (Y/N) simply replied. "Why is it? Did someone bother you?" Erwin asked, concerned. (Y/N) explained everything that happened in the past week to Erwin. "Why didn't you fight back then?" Erwin asked, quiet surprised that (Y/N) took a few beatings. (Y/N) wasn't the type of person who would take beatings without counterattacking. At least that was how it was during training. "You told me to be nice to everyone" (Y/N) grumbled. "Well, did you complain to the matron?" Erwin asked. "I did. She scolded them but that only increased the problem" (Y/N) explained.

"I see. Well, I know I told you to be nice to everyone but that doesn't mean you won't use self defence when required." Erwin advised. "So, I can beat them up?" (Y/N) asked, with an evil glint in her eyes. "Yes but stay in your limits. Don't make any permanent injury." Erwin said cautiously. (Y/N) was still a kid and kids couldn't be trusted much when they are angry. "Oh don't worry. I'll just scare them a bit." (Y/N) answered with a sly smile that worried Erwin even more. With that, they went to a nearby field to brush up on the training by sparring.

That night, (Y/N) sneaked into the matron's office to find a stack of newspapers. She saw the stack in the matron's shelf before when she took a book from there when she first arrived. After searching for a while, she found the newspaper she was looking for, the one from 6 years back. The one with the news of the murder of Jacob. After taking the newspaper, (Y/N) sneaked into the kitchen to get a knife.

She walked into the boy's dormitory to find Sean sleeping on his bed. "Oi, Sean" (Y/N) called out. "Huh? What?" Sean got up, still sleepy. "What the hell are you doing here. Are you really itching to get beaten?" he growled after seeing it was (Y/N) who called him. "I don't intend to have a single scratch by you on my body, Sean. However, I can't say the same for you" (Y/N) answered, putting in a psychotic smile on her face as she brought her knife out in the open as it glinted in the moonlight coming from the window in the room. The whole room of boys were awake now. (Y/N) suddenly threw the knife backwards, which stuck to a bed post along with the fabric of the night shirt of Paul near his hand, thus keeping his hand in place.

Paul was white with fear as it happened and (Y/N) simply said, "Paul, don't try to move or come at me with the knife. It's going to get in your stomach in that case". She then threw the Newspaper at the now intimidated Sean's face before saying, " Read the headline.". The whole room of boys were watching, scared by (Y/N)'s sudden change in demeanour. "8 year old brutally kills soldier". Sean read before pausing. "(Y/N) (L/N), an 8 year old child from the Shiganshina district, killed Jacob Meyer, a garrison soldier from Thomas (L/N), (Y/N) (L/N)'s adoptive father's squad. Jacob's eyes were gauged out and throat was slit and his head was almost severed by what seemed like at least 20 stabs. About (Y/N) (L/N)'s past, all that is known is that she was rescued from a whorehouse in the upper class pleasure district in the underground..." Sean continued but his voice faded.

(Y/N)'s picture was drawn on the newspaper. They had no idea who they were messing with. "Well, that's enough. Now answer me, who else wants to end up like that piece of garbage?" (Y/N) asked in a cold voice. No one answered. "That's a good choice. Now," (Y/N) started as she moved towards Paul and pulled the knife out of the bedpost, "all of you, don't mention that I was here tonight. And yes, no one will be listening to these two worthless garbage here anymore or their so called friend. No one will do one extra work than what's assigned to them by the matron. Am I clear?" (Y/N) finished. Some kids were crying as they were intimidated but all of them nodded or muttered yes. "Good. Oh, and, don't bother me when I'm reading. Just leave me alone okay?" (Y/N) told before leaving the room with the newspaper and the knife so that she can keep those in place again without anyone realising.

Year 847:

It had been two years since (Y/N) started living in the orphanage. After that day, no one messed with (Y/N) again, and, no one listened to those three bullies ever again either. However, every good thing always came to an end. "Commander Smith, (Y/N) is already 16 years old. She's an adult now and we usually look for a groom for anyone who is of age in our orphanage. If you gave me the permission, I would've looked for someone suitable" the matron told Erwin. Erwin was called to the orphanage after (Y/N)'s so called 16th birthday according to her birth certificate. "Well, I suppose? I just didn't think that she will get married so soon..." Erwin started but (Y/N), who was also sitting in the room and listening to the conversation, stopped him and said, "Exactly. I am not getting married so soon.".

"But (Y/N), you're of age and it's against orphanage policies..." the matron started but was interrupted by (Y/N) as she said, "I understand that. I'm joining the military.". "(Y/N), you are not joining the military." Erwin simply answered. "Why not? Am I not of age? Am I not allowed to make decisions now? If I'm old enough to get married, why am I not allowed to join the military?" (Y/N) asked casually. "(Y/N), it's dangerous unless if you join the military police." Erwin sighed. He knew where it was going. "You really think I will join the military police, Uncle Erwin? I'm joining the Survey Corps. I'll kill those bastards who took my parents away from me." (Y/N) said as the matron shouted, "Language (Y/N)!".

"Very well. I have to ask you though, (Y/N). Could you die if you're asked to?" Erwin asked (Y/N). "Depends on why you are asking me to die. If the reason is valid enough, then I am ready." (Y/N) answered. "Well, (Y/N), on missions, I can't look out after you. I might have to send you to your death if required because on expeditions, I'm your commander, not your uncle." Erwin told (Y/N) coldly. "I understand." (Y/N) answered. She enlisted to the 104th trainee corps the next day. "I won't let myself be hurt again" she thought as she wore her uniform, leaving the orphanage for good. The (Y/N) from four years back didn't know that it will keep happening again (Jacob) and again (death of parents) and again (death of squad Levi) and... Again...

To be continued...

Taglist: @reality-is-often-disappointing, @kingtamakimurder

[skultrashfics]

Hey, can you write ravel/reader where they are a couple and reader finds out he’s a traitor and confronts him? Maybe something angsty or possible nsfw, wherever you wanna take the story 😊😊 Thankyouuuu 😘

Ok, I don’t usually write angst- but this really clicked with me. So enjoy Anon! Also sorry for the use of ‘that chapter’ ;~; 

Pairing: Erskine Ravel x Reader Word Count: 1578 Themes: Angst, Manipulation

Struggling in the grip of two children of the spider you kicked and lashed out at them to no avail. The magic bound handcuffs on your wrists stopped you from using your magic and so you were left dangling like a fish on a hook. “Let go of me!”, you demanded while continuing to make life difficult for the awful creeps who were trying to transport you somewhere. “Just you wait until Elder Ravel hears about this”, you shouted in defiance. You knew Erskine would come to your aid, after all, you had been engaged for a few months now. He was Grand Mage and constantly arguing with these guys if anyone knew how to kick spider butt it was him. Besides, there was no way you were going to let yourself be killed before your wedding day, and so you placed even more emphasis on your struggle. You managed to slip out of the grip of one of the captors and tried to run but the other yanked you back and once again you were wedged in between them. They did not say anything to you as they led you through the sanctuary, and eventually, you came upon the Round Room. 

Inside you could hear a large group of people and you were led through the double doors and exposed to a horrific sight. To your right Anton Shudder lay in a pool of blood, his body wounded and decapitated. A terrified scream left your mouth and you tried to move away but you were led further into the room and thrown onto the floor. You were crying and through blurred eyes, you could see someone on the floor beside you. You tried to blink away the tears but your body was in a state of shock at seeing your close friend murdered like that. “For goodness sake, someone pick her up!”. A familiar voice. Ravel. You looked up immediately and saw his golden eyes from a distance as the tears fell down your face, relief washed over your body as you thought you would be saved from this nightmare. You were picked up by what felt like a huge hand and as you turned to thank whomever had helped you, your body froze in fear as you came face to visor to the Black Cleaver. In confusion, you backed away from him sharply and felt Ravel’s hands catch you as you lost your footing. You turned into Ravel’s chest, letting yourself be wrapped up in his arms, “Erskine what is going on?... Shudder he’s…”, a sob caught in your throat and he shushed you while softly stroking your hair. “It is alright, please don’t cry… he had to die. Otherwise, my plans could not have gone forward. I will miss him too”. Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes followed the trail of blood at your feet back to Ghastly’s corpse that also lay on the floor. Realising that you had landed beside him before you cried out loudly and started to struggle away from Erskine’s grip. He held you firmly, trying to keep you still and calm, “I know. I know. It’s painful… but we can’t stay here now. Stay calm y/n”. You screamed and hit at him angrily, “They were your friends- why?! What-”, your voice broke into another bout of shocked sobs and your body was starting to grow weaker. You felt a small sharp pain in your arm and realised Ravel had injected a sedative into you, “Please rest y/n, rule beside me when you wake”. That was the last thing you heard before you drifted out of consciousness. He picked you up and nodded to Madame Mist, “Make sure these two get proper burials. They were my friends…”, he spoke calmly before walking out of the room, leaving the bodies of his friends behind. 

When you finally woke up, you were laying in your bed at home. You tried to sit up but realised that your hands were bound as well as your feet and you could not move. You grumbled feeling your head swim from the side effects of the sedative and it reminded you of all that had happened within such a short time. Your eyes welled with tears again and you sobbed softly turning your head into your pillow. Ravel walked in quietly and sat beside you on the bed, “You’re awake I see... “. You stared at him with a fury in your eyes you had never shown to anyone before, “How could you?”. Ravel sighed and looked away from your gaze, “I wouldn’t have done it if they weren’t there. But they were in the way”. You cried out in a devastating sort of pain, “NO! Stop saying that! They trusted you… we were trying to figure out something together...together…”. Ravel placed a delicate touch on your arm, “Y/n, I am going to protect the sanctuary from a warlock attack and prove to all the other countries that Ireland can look after itself. They will stop threatening us and we will be able to live in peace again. Not only that, but mortals will love us and know their rightful place in this world. No longer will we have to hide and our wedding will be the most beautiful way to celebrate our victory. Don’t you see?”, his voice was full of his own conviction. You were partly horrified at how Ravel was sounding more and more like a mad dictator, but also horrified that he was making sense. He was trying to romanticise you with his words. So you closed your eyes and turned away from him, not letting those golden eyes pierce you, “That doesn’t really sound like a good thing, aside from the sanctuary peace, and the wedding, and not having to hide…”, you had started to trail off but then you remembered how brutally he had betrayed his friends and murdered them. “But- This is not the way to do it, Ravel… why else would you feel the need to tie me up?”. A small smirk graced his face, “I am going to ignore the opportunity that just presented itself. I don’t want you to see me as a monster any more than you already do y/n. But tell me this, when the other dead men find out about this- and they will… do you really think they will believe you? That you played no part in helping me?”. The outrage that filled your voice could not be any more apparent, “How could you say something like that?! They are my friends- I will tell them-”. Ravel swiftly interrupted you, “Tell them what? That you had no idea your fiance was leading this attack? That you don’t love me anymore?... Do you not love me y/n? Do you not want to be my wife?”. A rush of dread coursed through you, after living for hundreds of years agreeing to marry someone and settle down with them is a big commitment. You would not have said yes to just anybody. You loved Ravel deeply, judging by his reputation he would not have asked you to marry him if he did not mean it. Any woman would have killed for that honour. Those golden eyes were shining, but you could not tell what truly lay behind them anymore. Ravel sighed, “I want to be able to protect you from all that. All you need to do is stay by my side and I will make sure no harm comes to you. You don’t have to play a part in any of this. But I need you, you are my end goal and I would be lost without you y/n”. He always had a way of making you swoon. Endless doubts that had crossed your mind were slowing from a sprint to a steady jog...they were falling behind. Your heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again, never kissing him again… Slowly you nodded, “Ok…”. Ravel stared at you with a newfound relief in those eyes, had he been scared? He hugged you close to him, tears falling onto your shoulder, “Will you really keep me with you? For eternity y/n? As my wife, my queen into this new regime?”. Again you nodded with tears of your own filling your eyes, “I will not kill for you. I will not help you. But I will stay by your side, for as long as your end goal really is peace and not destruction. In order to make Ghastly and Shudder’s deaths mean something… Erskine- please make them mean something”. His face fell as you said this and a hint of sadness took over him, “I always planned to y/n… I couldn’t imagine anything less for them”. He leaned up with tear-stained cheeks and wiped away your own before they had the chance to fall, Ravel then pulled you into a long passionate kiss. He clung onto you as though you were his life support, did he really mean what he had said? You did not have any reason to doubt him, as he untied you and you sat upright on the bed. You fiddled with your engagement ring, shining the light off of the diamond in the middle causing rainbows to fall down onto your lap. Ravel smiled and kissed your forehead, “We should leave soon. I need to take you someplace safer”.

[delicrieux]

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] -final-

premise: two students start developing feelings for one another despite having too many secrets to count.

tagging:  @cheshirecatbyul @junieyes @whaledenwtf @xoxomioxoxo @cherryvblossom @adidabach @sissieliang @patronusfire @rianrawr @gravitygemjj @aquariemm @storiiteller @fortisfiliae @imagines-all-day-everyday @redrupees @kurara-black-blog @pleuviors @songforhema @zaybmocx @justeveeeee @importanttyrantruler @sissieliang @milkchocolatepretzel @wontyoustandbyme

warnings: angst, sexual themes, descriptions of death, very morbid + disturbing imagery

a/n: this had been brewing in my mind since i read les diaboliques! thank you all for all the wonderful comments and kudos and all that jazz. truly. i started this project because there were no tom riddle fics, and if there were they were not nearly disturbing enough for my tastes. this last chapter is from tom’s point of view and i think you can already guess why. let me know what you think! thank you again for this amazing journey. it is finally time for the curtain to fall. p.s. thank you immensely to my seraph @macchiavellii for the aesthetic. divine, as per usual. 

xx d

amortentia masterpost | masterlist | support me | commissions! |

10. The Crimson Curtain/ Odette

There is not enough substance in this world to feed Tom Riddle’s desire for power – power over things that cannot be controlled, and power over people that simply adore him. He had always fancied himself completely in control; since moving to Hogwarts, he had built a new image of himself, a skilfully crafted mask that no one would question, or peer behind it if they did. He is charming, and handsome, and devilishly sly, yet he presents a tender disposition of a diligent student – everyone’s dream.  To him very few things matter and nothing matters very much. Yet there is this girl from his house, this gentle, naïve creature that had enough heart to defend him from bullies that years later would worship him on their feet; the same, graceful, roseate cheeked figure giving him the upmost respect and adulation of which she, herself, has none. He was her first everything and he knew this and held this secret with silent pride: her first love, her first kiss, her first everything. And as fitting, or so he thinks, clearly and coldly, it started with him and it shall end with him – she will die in his hands like a swan taking her last bow on stage, in her prettiest white dress and refined movements, so precise they are hurtful, and it will be the most beautiful thing to witness and he anticipated that moment with bated breath and morbid, dark eyes, wild with wonder, drunk on lust.

The days slip by slowly at the Riddle Manor, its strange halls dark and the outside fields misty. The roses that had bloomed in the garden had wilted from the harsh wind; alien grey clouds dotted the sunless sky like a picture void of all colour, of all happiness. Then it got hot again, humid, the stench of old wood and the lingering whiff of death and blood floated in these halls as if a permanent tenant, unable to leave, bringing nothing but a sense of melancholy and acceptance. The nights are cold, bigger than imagining; black and gusty and enormous, disordered and wild with stars. It brought a sense of tranquillity, its vastness, though a looming sense of finality, too. (Name) had long ago accepted her fate as a soul to be sacrificed to the Mighty Death itself and Tom had no qualms about that: she accepted it with his first tender touch in confession, accepted it again on the train ride to Little Hangleton, and reconfirmed it with a scorching, delicious kiss. He wanted to devour her like Saturn devoured his sons, like Goya in fretful grey-brown colours depicted on the verge of his madness. He could not share her with anyone else; she is too precious to even bathe in the curious eye of anyone else. It pained him horribly to even imagine it.

Her room is on the second floor, the very last one, spacious and adorned with viridian sheets and cheerful depictions of the Victorian past via paintings framed in glossy wood. Her window overlooks the dead roses and the faraway cabin of the caretaker, who, for days oblivious, stumbles about his home, in his mind certain he had conversed with the Riddle family and watered the flowers, cut the grass, cheerily gave the children candy he used to love as a child himself. A red curtain, satin, soft as her skin, hung above the aforementioned window, swayed from the breeze. They had spent many nights within this room, it now trapping many whispers and groans of his name, embedded into the walls, into the pillows, and the taste of kisses and metallic blood only fuelled this famishing carnal desire.

And it is dark again and he is drawn to her door like a soul is drawn to the afterlife, feeling, in a dreamlike state, the air tonight being electric and different. The hallway is shadowy and he makes no sound as he moves to the handle, his hot hand burning from touching its cold metal surface. The door opens with a ghastly creek and he enters the cool, moonlit room. She sits on the edge of the bed, staring somewhere outside the open window, a candle burning on its sill and flicking with the curtain of rouge behind it, twirling, caressing the air in its sensual dance. She slowly turns her head to him, her features lily-like, submerged in water; she appears as a seraph that climbed down from heaven to wait for him by the foot of the bed. Though this seraph, this divine, lovely creature has its wings clipped, and blood streams lazily from her nose, drips on her nightgown, appearing black in the shade.

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks, knowing the answer. She faintly nods, tilting her head and watching her feet with an empty, lonely look. He approaches her vigilantly, not yet ready to let go this picturesque, medieval image of her, so waxen, so completely lifeless. He sits next to her, his hand coming to rest on hers. Hers feels like marble, cold and sculpted. He brings the hand to his lips, kisses it softly, thinking he shall warm it with his caress, all the while watching her closely in wonder and curiosity. She barely reacts, only the sides of her pale lips quirk upwards, and the faint glow of love lights up in her eyes, and she gazes back at him, through him, drifting between this world and the next. Still grasping her hand, his other lands on the back of her neck, careful to hold her as if she was something pitifully fragile. He lays her down onto the velvety, glossy sheets.

He looks into her eyes and he sees the ocean in their barren depths. It mesmerizes him, makes his breath hitch in his throat; the trickle of red dyes her cupid bow in the prettiest rouge lipstick. He kisses her, a kiss that is strangely unlike him, a kiss full of emotion so strong his heart nearly lunges out of his chest to beat for hers. Her pulse drums helplessly in her lips, on the side of her jaw where his hand moves to rest. He pulls away slightly, enraptured, and she rasps something melodious in blood written notes.

“Ma mort…” Her voice is an alluring siren’s call.

“Ma vie…” He whispers in between kisses.

She unfolds in his grasp like a rose, breathless and beautiful, and he kisses her neck, her collarbones, retraces the spots he had marked the night before with growing eagerness. He captures her lips again, this time void of any tenderness he had exhibited prior, and she returns it with unexpected keenness. Her limbs sputter by her sides as if she wants to grasp him, yet her hands fall back to bed before she has the chance to run her fingers through his hair. He growls, deep, in the back of his throat, because she tastes like heaven, his heaven, his own personal Eden.

Her last dance, her last arch to his roaming lips as they trail down the curve of her breasts.  He calls her name with a gentle groan, barely a whisper. Her skin is frost. It does not heat no matter how much he touches it, and the night is dead silent suddenly, and the hand that had been wrapped around her throat feels as if something is amiss. He pulls away from her, sits uptight, and for a moment, or perhaps a minute, or a whole eternity, he stares at the pale, haunting body of a girl laying eerily still. Her eyes gaze into oblivion with alarming emptiness, and the light of the flickering candle reflects warmly in her eyes.

He cannot explain this feeling, cannot trap it within the constraints of his lexis. He trembles, lightly at first, then almost violently, her blood still warm on his lips. He feels horror grip his throat; settle in the pit of his stomach like a serpent. And he feels awe hitting him in waves of opalescent ecstasy. Beauty, true beauty, is terror. He had never seen something so absolutely sublime.

In a daze, Tom Riddle stands and wanders to the window. White wax drips from the candle. He leans in by the fire, exhales sharply and the fire sniffs out leaving put spirals of grey smoke. He slowly closes the window, his hands still shivering. Lastly he draws the curtain over it. What little light was in the room is now replaced by a sinister red glow.

He never felt so powerful, never so ethereal. Finally… it dawns onto him.

It is happiness he feels. Happiness scorched with abysmal pain.

fin.