#Idk how old Silver would be
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mellobellooo · 5 months ago
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middle school comfort character and current comfort character??? guys there may be a pattern here . . .
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batsplat · 7 months ago
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from the stuff i’ve heard marc’s former honda teammates (dani jorge and pol in their media careers but joan also i guess) say about him now that they’re racing is generally quite positive, both on a professional/riding level but also seemingly on a personal level? i’m wondering what you make of that given that, yeah, marc doesn’t seem like a very good teammate (unless you’re alex who i’ve left off this list). like MARC wants to separate on and off track stuff and it seems like all of these guys are willing too at least in retrospect, so he can’t have truly burned bridges with them. do you have any thoughts on that
(x, x) most riders are quite good at not burning bridges with each other! it's not like marc's competitors don't know that this stuff is kinda part of the game. I mean, all of marc's past teammates were also trying to assert themselves within the internal hierarchy... you can say that certain teammates engage in 'worse' behaviour than others, but, like, these people do understand they're supposed to be fighting each other! a baseline degree of nastiness is factored in and will be accepted to a greater or lesser extent by your rivals - especially when it comes to asserting yourself in intra-team power struggles. you might hate the other guy in the moment, but generally speaking once the active part of the rivalry is done with... you will probably get over it. marc's fellow riders are aware of how ultra-competitive marc is - and to a certain point they do respect it, not least because they're aware that this is part of the reason why marc has ended up with all those titles. it's like dani said, right, it's marc's strong suit. and in general, you do have to say that there's relatively few teammate pairings that devolve to the level of toxicity that it completely destroys the interpersonal relationship. you might need some level of preexisting animosity... most of the purely competitive sins can be healed with a little time
on the 'separating on-track and off-track' thing... well. this is kind of a question of how you define these things, you can say that marc generally speaking isn't going to massively hold grudges over isolated on-track incidents or whatever... but he doesn't just leave his fighting to the track, and personally I've also never felt he can entirely separate these things out in his mind. can you really say his professional and private relationships with other riders are completely detached from one another? mostly, he's opted to be pretty disengaged from his fellow riders as a collective, and obviously that's a good way to not take things too personally... it's all part of the game, isn't it? sometimes it's good to go with the straightforward approach: marc tells you he will make your life hell, he does indeed make your life hell, and then you both move on with your lives and can maybe actually have a pretty amiable relationship with him in years to come. he's not really defying your expectations at any point here, is he now? it's still a question for each of them as individuals as to whether they think that kind of behaviour is above board and acceptable or not... but everyone by now knows that marc plays these games, so it's not like they're going in blind
and it's not like other former teammates are constantly badmouthing each other. I mean... look, let's just cut to the chase here and bring in valentino as our reference point (as he is for the sport as a whole, which by the way does also help create a certain baseline of acceptability for marc's antics - maybe goated riders are just supposed to be dicks who knows). vale's premier class teammates were 1) nobody (2000-01), 2) tohru ukawa (2002), 3) nicky hayden (2003; 2011-12), 4) carlos checa (2004), 5) colin edwards (2005-2007), 6) jorge lorenzo (2008-10; 2013-16), 7) maverick vinales (2017-20), 8) franco morbidelli (2021), and 9) andrea dovizioso (2021). of these eight men (let's just exclude 'nobody' for now), do you know how many had serious complaints at any point about valentino as a teammate? that's right, it's one guy. one. some of valentino's other teammates, like hayden, checa and edwards, were even quite actively positive about their whole experience. this is the thing - you do need some specific circumstances for teammate rivalries to escalate from 'being kinda bitchy every other month' to 'actively fantasising about stabbing each other'. not accounting for natural interpersonal animosity, let's list some circumstantial factors that you need to get a bridge-burning-worthy level of feud:
you need a competitive bike. it is possible to beef about development direction when you're in the trenches (cf late 2010's yamaha, 2020's honda)... but generally speaking this is going to be quite low-level petty stuff, not actual war
you also need something that approaches competitiveness between teammates. if one teammate is unquestionably stronger than the other one, then it is very unlikely that you are going to get any open hostilities. the tension comes when the two sides are close enough to each other for the internal hierarchy to actually be a contentious issue (this is also basic self preservation... if you're the far weaker teammate then you do not want to make the situation troublesome, because then you will be the one to be fired)
following on from those first two things... well, it doesn't hurt to have a title fight in the mix. there are also other ways you can generate competitive stakes, like, for instance, if you and your teammate know that one of you will be out of a job soon. basically, it helps to have something to squabble over
it is maybe easy to forget how rare it is this century for teammates to be fighting directly for a title, let alone over the course of multiple seasons. only two 1-2's since the year 2000 and they're both for the factory yamaha's (though 2006, 2011-13 and 2017 did all prominently feature two factory hondas). which means that for valentino, the prerequisites were met just the once in his premier class career... and yes, the results were pretty memorable, but (topic! for! another! post!) it's worth pointing out that even that relationship was pretty much 'fine' whenever there was a sizeable disparity between the two of them performance-wise (2008 and 2013 are the most clear cut examples). I think the way I'd frame it with marc is that he has a bunch of mildly dubious strategies up his sleeve to assert himself within the team, which don't really deviate that far from what you'd expect from a rider of marc's calibre and only need to be escalated under specific circumstances. that doesn't mean he doesn't have the potential to be ruthless, but up until now it's mostly been a fairly 'acceptable' level of ruthlessness on the intra-team level... and not something that is likely to make other riders actually hate him
taking marc's teammates one by one... dani was the closest to meeting the bridge-burning prerequisites, though he was only a title rival in marc's rookie season. and marc did go further with him than he did with anyone else, and dani has made some pointed comments about marc's style as a teammate... but yes, he is fonder of marc these days. partly I'd just emphasise again that this is a fairly natural progression when you've stopped directly competing for long enough, and partly it's also just a question of individual personality - dani's not massively into holding grudges. then there's jorge, who... I mean, they might as well not have been teammates, given that jorge was either too slow or too injured to even be sharing any track space with marc. you have to put that one down primarily to circumstance, seeing as jorge's own track record on the teammate front isn't exactly spotless. marc and jorge beefing in 2019 would have been pretty dumb and also a massive waste of everyone's time in a year in which marc singlehandedly won the team's championship. even those two needed more to get things going
moving on to the dark years, pol and marc had an extremely stop-and-start partnership on a honda that was generally pretty uncompetitive... so the only stuff they could get ever so mildly irritable about were riveting incidents like 'marc saying pol wasn't the biggest championship threat' (neither of them were) or 'pol saying he'd copy marc's set up' (which proved entirely useless). not exactly title decider territory, is it now, and marc very much had pol covered as a challenger throughout their partnership. also, those two do have a longer history! they've known each other since they were kids and hold a pretty significant place in each other's careers. now that pol's more or less retired, it's natural there'll be quite a lot of sentimentality there - which will paper over any small cracks that appeared during those two years. and joan was a one year teammate at a time in which the bike was consistently close to offing them both. they only managed to start a sunday race together as teammates on thirteen occasions. it would take some serious effort to engineer a feud with that little opportunity, and, really, why on earth would you bother. maybe if honda had gone for rinsy rather than joan for the factory seat, it could've been a bit more prickly, but it's unlikely that it would have escalated beyond that
this is the thing, right, the only one of these partnerships that would have been worth burning bridges over was dani, and even there marc pretty much had him handled after the first season. in general, marc has been pretty clear on how he's not interested in making friends with the other side of the garage while the teammate relationship is ongoing... which is fine! there's some prominent-ish teammate pairings that are actually good friends, some teammate pairings where one of them is actively helping out and advising the other one, but some riders prefer to just keep their distance. it would have been a little silly of marc to start a feud with a teammate who is galaxies away from being a competitive threat, let alone a title rival, but generally it is possible to toe the line between 'attempting to suppress your internal rivals enough to stop them from becoming a problem for you' and 'taking radical enough action to make your internal rivals despise you'
especially in the post-dani era, marc never really had any need to push things too far... and, let's face it, how many of your teammate relationships end up with burnt bridges is also quite frankly a question of luck and circumstance. do you want to guess which top rider on paper has the worst track record this century with premier class teammate feuds, in terms of a) how many they've had, and b) how little public reconciliation there has been since the end of the rivalry?
yes, that's right, it's the first name that comes to mind when you're thinking of toxic and conflict-prone riders: andrea dovizioso. that old devil, constantly causing trouble. just couldn't stop undermining his poor, innocent teammates. can somebody please stop this ruthless bully before it's too late
I think you get the point. I would personally suggest that dovi is not in fact the worst teammate it is possible to have in a motogp top team. he just happened to find himself in a situation where he was teammates with two separate guys he did not click with at all, in situations that involved a pairing of riders who were (or had the potential to be) competitive with each other, as well as some proper stakes attached to the rivalry. in general, situational factors are going to determine this stuff more than anything else... and marc more often than not does have a reasonably good feel for picking his battles. he's flirted with the line, but he's mostly avoided crossing it. he hasn't had to
#'joan also i guess' hold on now anon that's his former teammate relationship that's most important to ME i love them...#elephant in the room is 'let's revisit this in 1.5 years time'. ik people will try to make that just about the vr46 factor but *shrug*#i kinda feel like maybe i should have mentioned in the casey/marc post that casey is arguably more of an outlier than marc is#like his alienation with the sport ran deep which is how you get him engaging in melandri slander who was pee one million in 2008#y'know casey/jorge ducati was a real possibility for a hot second and my take on that would ALSO be 'hm yeah maybe not <3'#ESPECIALLY given that it's quite likely the incoming jorge would've been paid way way more than casey was ('09 ducati... let's not even)#AND given how yamaha had repeatedly burnt casey and then handed jorge the seat on a silver platter... like idk man!!#genuinely fascinating '10 counterfactual... i do like casey/marc but i've also game planned casey/vale and casey/jorge i'm a completionist#(either dani or vale would've likely won the title in that timeline. but crucially casey/jorge interpersonally would've been. well)#//#brr brr#alien tag#batsplat responds#morale tag#i need an ask tag so badly but i can't be bothered to back tag... i'll do it at some point#in my notes i did once actually rank the aliens by how much they'd suck as teammates but the order might be a wee bit controversial#i'm sorry to the guy i ranked number one but he did objectively have the worst track record like... it has to be said#i think u have like. different modes right. where how bad u are as a teammate is scaled to how big the threat ur facing is#now EYE actually think marc's not got a particularly *great* neutral mode either but it's not bridge-burning mode#also what even is a burnt bridge... i mean god knows even valentino and jorge are taking photos together these days...#jorge's still conducting autopsies of old beef every fortnight but otoh he's joking about motegi on instagram which is crazyyyyyy#you genuinely cannot. CANNOT convince me that if marc/jorge had had a title fight as teammates it wouldn't have been a MESS#there is literally no way. none whatsoever#and if i said dani had a higher number of strained premier class teammate relationships than valentino did... what then...
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cheswirls · 9 months ago
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looking @ old fic i started when i was 14/15 is so funny bc im realizing once again why i never mark fics as abandoned even if its been literal years since i've touched them. specifically i was checking docs for stuff i started and either did or didn't post to ffn.
and its like. nothing is bad??? like i can see where my outside-the-box ideal of fic writing comes from. not just fics but writing in general, i'm p sure. even if it's a total cliche plot setup, there are details on each that rly make it stand out like oh yeahhhhhh i did have this great idea once upon a time.
funny too bc was it executed well in prose??? no absolutely not i wrote like shit when i was 15. would i revive an idea one day and revise it to be less cliche or cringy while still keeping the stand-out elements??? yea maybe. i might. everything i'm currently working on that i started from 2021 up to now still holds my supreme interest, but like i'm not gonna say never.
esp since i write fic first and foremost for my own need and specifically what i like to read, it makes it impossible to consider an idea i've thought extensively about "not worth writing anymore". anyway not making this too long i jus found everything interesting to consider
#writing#this fic i pulled up from JUNE 2014 crazy was the old chosenshi au i was trying to write for a friend#i dont ship blue/silver and never will and thats prolly why i never finished it#but i do still like!! the idea of rocket!blue raised w silver and breaking free of tr while running the hoenn branch#no idea how i remembered bc it wasnt in the plot pts on the doc but she was gonna get sent to the battle frontier#to nab jirachi and have encounters w frontier brains and change her mind at the end of it all#hell i could go back and not make it ship fic at all - have silver be a little one-sided obsessed or#even jus like.. attached to blue as a rivalry like as a way to show her up at every turn#another fic around the same time was the old pokespe hs au where i changed all the dexholder's names for some reason#i have no idea where i was in reading spe bc i put lyra in for some reason and had the sinnoh trio even tho i never read past v2 of dp#idk if it was more gameverse or what but its so funny looking @ the ship list n seeing i had gold paired w black#bc i had manga!ss and manga!ferriswheel so was it rly speverse or was i projecting????#actually i think black was supposed to die and gold was gonna go thru this whole thing abt grieving#looking at the ship list so funny bc i never shipped gold/crys or entourageshi#and clearly i did not know the superiority of pmshi if i threw lyra in jus for silver#god but i do love (most!) of the alt names i gave them#would absolutely fuck up the ship list if i ever redid it tho#also have perfectworld tho im sure i have the most recent rewrite on pen and paper somewhere#that one i also gave up bc the idea i had for flare!sycamore was cringe along with#every time i went back to work on it enough time passed that i thought my writing sucked#i rewrote that damn thing so many times but oooooooo i still love the idea#as long as i changed the cringe parts to smth better i could still rock w most of these#that fic rly had everything... psychic!korrina. leaf/serena. sycamore hacking the secret to mega evo. lys/syc that ends in failure#bc of the ending line i will never forget > only in a perfect world could you and i be together. destined and doomed from the start#im rambling n im boutta run outta tags gimme a sec
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valyrfia · 1 year ago
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Me 🤝 You: supporting the red & blue theory by shipping Lestappen and SteveTony
ABSOLUTELY! Honestly, Lestappen keeps the spirit of (at least MCU) stevetony alive with the Enemies Who Know the Other is Their Only True Equal to Acquaintances Who Are Weird About Each Other to Obsessed Lovers trope, and yeah it does make me laugh a little that red and blue are their Symbolic Colours. I could write a thesis on this, but it's of ZERO surprise to me that there's a strong overlap of past stevetony/current lestappen (much the same way I'm not surprised with the overlap of past stucky/current maxiel).
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silvercaptain24 · 9 months ago
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Growing up is weird
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hauntingblue · 4 months ago
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Happy memory flashbacks we are so over....
#“i wonder if he knows just how much you learnt from him” hands is a ghost haunting him like really#*in the highest pitch possible ever* why isn't that true?#is silver his son?? why would he stop from killing him#rackham has te same “beard” stile as mihawk akdhaksk#this old man talks in rhymes and metaphors man#what you have taken from me???? THE AUDACITY!!! SHE WAS THERE DYING TOO AJDAUAJAI#like eleanor knows how to knit... get it together man#does madi know what silver is doing bc christ... she is not compromising and silver is just throwing everything overboard#why is silver so aware.... there is no narrative or whatever he just said and thinking flint conditions the weather....#its like man vs god except man knows god doesn't exist#the old man DIED AHDKAHSKA AFTER THAT SPEECH!!! JACK YOU ARE FUCKED#and anne is back with her husband... and max refused the business with marion ajdshjs!!!!!!!#thank you me degroit but this man is insane bc he left billy free#oh samurai man who hasnt spoken a word since the first episode its so over#yeah.... rip fly high#the ship is on fire and the captains are fucking around in the forest....#flint saying silver construct a story... you see what i was talking about#DEGROOT!!!!!#“i have earnd his trust” as his ship explodes bc of him abdjabakaak#see i would buy this more if madi and silvers relationship was more developed bc it kinda sprouted out of nowhere to me at least#like after what max and anne have got going on.... this isnt enough to betray your friend you know#and yeah he didnt trust flimt before and whatever like billy thought and still thinks but damn....#idk what im saying atp#talking tag#watching black sails
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altfire · 1 year ago
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i am thinking so much about. lio of all people. and how he is just my most miserable oc and like even the small happinesses he finds dont last. i want to do more for him but i have no idea what
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dilf-docs · 28 days ago
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I'm Happy Where The Devils Are
dbf!joel miller x younger!reader
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summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded
word count: 7,629 words
side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)
part: I / II
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It was winter when he first touched you.
Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.
You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.
Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.
It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.
It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.
But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.
On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.
"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"
He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.
"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"
"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."
He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.
"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.
"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.
"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.
And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.
His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.
"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"
Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.
"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.
But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.
Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.
You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.
"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.
It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.
It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.
But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.
And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.
Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.
"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.
"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.
You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"
"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.
"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.
"If you need anything, just tell" she says.
When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.
The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"
"M' not y'r daddy"
You shiver despite the closed windows.
"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"
He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.
"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.
Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.
You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.
"Joel, why are you here?"
The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.
"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.
Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.
Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.
"Joel, what are you doing?"
He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.
"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.
It's like he was never there.
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It was spring when he first kissed you.
It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.
Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.
"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"
And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.
Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"
Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.
"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.
The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.
"Yeah?"
A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.
"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"
The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.
"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"
You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.
"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.
Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.
"Hey"
Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.
"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.
"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.
"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"
"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.
You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"
"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."
You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.
You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.
"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"
He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.
Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.
"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"
"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.
Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.
You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.
"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"
A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.
You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"
"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.
"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.
"Sugar..."
You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.
"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"
"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"
They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.
You don't know why you do it, but you do.
You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.
"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"
And then you jump.
The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.
It's barely a second, like a blink.
The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.
You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.
You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.
Joel jumped too.
"What are you doing?!" you shout.
What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?
"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.
"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.
"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"
There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.
"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.
His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.
"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.
You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.
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It was summer when he became yours.
You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.
The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:
"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"
You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.
Before you worry, a voice behind you says:
"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"
It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.
"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.
"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"
"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"
"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"
You smile, "Joel?"
He doesn't look at you, "yes?"
You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"
"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"
He's a terrible liar.
As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.
It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.
"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"
"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.
"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.
"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"
He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.
"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.
"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"
If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.
"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"
You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.
"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"
When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.
"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"
"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"
"Sugar-" starts, condescending.
"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"
"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"
"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.
He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.
Maybe this is how it feels like.
He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.
"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"
Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.
"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"
He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.
"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"
He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.
"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.
"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.
He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.
"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.
He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.
He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).
"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 
"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"
Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 
"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"
He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.
"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.
"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"
"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.
You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.
"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"
It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.
"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"
"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"
"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.
Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.
"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.
"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.
"Good girl" he coos.
His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.
Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.
Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.
"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"
His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.
"Mhm" you whine.
"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"
"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.
"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.
"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"
"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"
Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.
Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.
"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"
You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.
"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"
The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.
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It was autumn when he said I love you.
Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.
Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.
But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.
There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.
"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"
"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.
He looks around, "do your-"
"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"
He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.
"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"
Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.
"How'd you do that?"
"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.
"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"
You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"
He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.
"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.
You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"
He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.
"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"
As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.
"Joel" you mumble, breathless.
"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"
"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"
"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"
"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.
Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.
"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"
"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"
"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"
You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.
"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"
He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.
You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.
"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"
You can't deny him anything.
"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.
"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"
But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.
You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.
You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.
"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"
"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.
Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.
"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.
Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.
He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.
"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.
But you hear.
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It was winter again, when he broke your heart.
Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.
You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.
They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.
It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.
It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.
"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.
The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.
Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.
You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.
Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.
"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"
You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.
"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"
When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.
"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.
"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"
"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"
"M' sorry"
The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.
There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.
"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"
"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"
"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"
He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.
"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.
"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"
"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.
"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.
Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.
It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.
So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.
"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"
You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.
"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.
"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"
"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"
"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"
Coward. Asshole. Idiot.
Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"
He's about to speak but you cut him off.
You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"
He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.
You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.
But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.
1K notes · View notes
guksvault · 1 month ago
Text
THE TIDES OF US | JJK
Oneshot
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pairing: firstlove!jungkook x firstlove!(f.)reader
synopsis: returning to Busan was never meant to be anything more than temporary. but when you’re faced with the boy who shaped your heart and engraved his initials upon it, are you able to pick up where you left off or will the tides of Busan wash away everything you once knew?
w/c: 8.6k
warnings: first love reunited, angst, angst snd some more angst, coffeeshopowner!jk, two dummies who apparently can’t communicate!, eventual smut (just one scene!), titty appreciation, unprotected sex (dont be silly!!), yummy make outs, crying :(, actually no! sobbing!, so many questions, matchalover!reader, both 22!!!, um um um, jjk has a shaggy mullet bc i cant help myself!!!, too many emotions that both characters r overwhelmed by! i think thats it lol idk, enjoy pls <3 mwah
!minorsdni!
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It had been a total of 1614 days since you last walked through the city of Busan. Four years and six long months since your parents had uprooted your lives and moved to London after an opportunity to expand your father’s company at the age of 18.
The sun warms your skin, the scent of sea salt lingers in the air. It's all familiar, yet somehow all so foreign.
Passing by street food stalls where you once spent your last bits of change, benches where you watched sunsets over the sea with your first love, and photobooth stands you’d drag them into at every chance. It was all so familiar, yet distant, flooding you with a wave of emotions—nostalgia, longing, and a twinge of sadness for how those days had slipped through your fingers, leaving only memories behind.
You find yourself frozen inside a beachfront café, convinced the sun has given you heatstroke and that this is just a hallucination. It couldn’t be him. There’s no way.
A tall, doe-eyed boy stands across from you, one arm adorned with intricate tattoos, a shaggy mullet framing his chiseled face. He’s frozen too, staring right back at you.
“Jungkook?”
Jungkook watches as you approach the counter hesitantly, his gaze fixed on you. He wants to reach out, to touch you, to see if you’re really here—or if you’re just an illusion his brain conjured up after that extra cup of coffee today.
“Shit- No fuckin’ way? What the fuck?” Is all his pretty little lips that were now adorned with a silver ring could say. His brain was racing, eyes darting back and forth between yours.
“You speak to all your customers like that?” you say playfully, a small laugh escaping your lips.
The smile that forms on Jungkook’s lips is almost painful to see—his old bunny-like teeth on display, the way his nose scrunches and forms those little wrinkles just like it used to, and that little dimple that peeks out, the one he used to say was from all the kisses you pressed to his cheek.
“Still a smartass, huh?” Jungkook teases, biting the corner of his lip and toying with the metal ring.
You hum in response, words getting lost. You’d forgotten you were standing in line, the sight of Jungkook in front of you after so long making you forget the patrons waiting behind you.
“I’ll just take a—”
“Iced Matcha, hm?” Jungkook finishes your sentence, not meaning to, just an instinct. Back when the two of you were inseparable, you’d always push him to try it, but it never worked. He still didn’t like it—at least, not until you left. Now, he ordered it on the days when loneliness got the best of him, or when anniversaries would roll around, the ones that you used to spend hand in hand.
You take a seat at a nearby table, staring out the glass windows that frame the view of the beach. Your thoughts are scrambled, knots forming in your stomach from the situation at hand. It had only been 15 hours since you’d returned to Busan, and already the world felt like it was playing some sick joke on you. Torn between wondering if this was fate or if the universe was rubbing everything you had lost in your face.
A takeaway cup, adorned with a sleeve that reads ‘Golden Hour,’ is placed in front of you.
Your eyes meet Jungkook’s as he stands there, a tight, closed-lip smile on his face. He looks down at you, half-thinking he might actually pass out if you keep looking at him like that—eyes round and innocent, like nothing has changed. When you stand up, only inches away from him now, there’s no counter between you. He could reach out, touch you, and see if this is real—or just another one of his recurring dreams. He decides not to, not wanting to risk it and find out this is all just his subconscious fantasies playing out.
Your lips wrap around the straw, the sweet liquid filling your taste buds—just how you always liked it. Sweet, not too bitter, with extra whipped cream.
“Pretty fucking good,” you say.
It’s silent for a moment, neither of you sure what to say or do next.
“When did you get ba—”
“I should get goi—”
An awkward laugh escapes from both of you, hands fiddling with the straw in an attempt to keep busy, while Jungkook rubs the back of his neck.
“Yeah, of course, I should get back to it. Coffee won’t make itself,” Jungkook rambles. You nod, he nods. You give an awkward smile, and he mirrors it back to you. It’s all a little juvenile, reminding you of when you were both in high school—too awkward to communicate, too caught up in the butterflies that fluttered in both of your stomachs.
You thank him again, turning to leave and heading back out into the heat of Busan’s air. Half of you thinks you should ditch the drink and dive headfirst into the ocean, trying to rid yourself of the emotions bubbling inside you.
“Hey—” Jungkook catches up with you just before your hand touches the door to leave. “Can we—like, catch up? I finish at 8:30? If you want… I know you’re probably busy. Could do it another time. If you want—”
Jungkook had always been a rambler—he’d ramble on and on whenever he was nervous, excited, or hiding something. It was a habit you picked up on early in your relationship, a tell that always gave him away. His words would get all jumbled and his speed of speech would increase, right before he’d admit something weighing on his mind.
“Did you change your hair? Did you curl it? Or is that more of a wave? Is your hair naturally like that? Did you have to wake up early to do that? Sorry—I mean, you look pretty.”
“The waves are big today, right? Wonder why. Probably something to do with the moon or something. Hey—did you know that sometimes female crabs eat their own babies if they get too stressed? Shit, sorry. I’m in love you.”
“You’re leaving? Okay, well, London is nice, apparently. Did you know Big Ben isn’t the name of the tower, just the bell inside? Weird, right? Fuck, please, stay.”
“8:30? By the benches?”
Jungkook lets out a small breath of relief. He doesn’t need to ask you to specify which benches—there were plenty along the beachfront, but he knows exactly which one you mean. The same one where he first told you he loved you.
“8:30. Benches. Perfect.”
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Your fingers scrolled mindlessly over your phone as you sit on the bench, your foot tapping lightly against your other foot out of nervousness as you wait for Jungkook.
Two hands come to cover your eyes from behind you, skin cool against your warm cheeks, “Boo!”
Your own hand attempts to reach behind you, blindly trying to swat Jungkook, “Little shit.” You giggle.
Jungkook laughs, and the sound fills the air like a familiar melody you didn’t know you missed so much. He lets his hands fall away, stepping in front of you with that trademark half smirk.
“Wanna go sit on the beach?” Jungkook smiled, he was dressed in an oversized black tee, matching baggy jeans to match, his apron that was tied around his waist a few hours prior long gone now, dressed so casually yet, eyes from anyone passing by would automatically be drawn to him.
He’d always been that way—the main attraction in any room he entered. Girls would swoon over his doe eyes and pretty smile, boys would try to replicate his style and confidence, and grandmas would pinch his cheeks and slip in a good word for their granddaughters. You’re sure the attention’s only grown since then. He’d shed that baby face, swapped it for a bad-boy look with tattoos and piercings, and it only seemed to suit him more. You’d bet the creator of Jeon Jungkook had spent extra time perfecting him, as if to apologise for all the other men they had created. There was only one Jeon Jungkook, and he stood before you now, cocking his head towards the beach, waiting for you.
You find a spot on the sand to sit, the small waves washing onto the shore not too far from the two of you. Your hands dig into the sand beside you, letting the soft sand pour from between your fingers.
“Didn’t know you were back. Are you?,” Jungkook asks softly, his own fingers dragging back and forth through the sand in front of him, “Are you back?”
You let out a small laugh, “For a little I guess. Dad’s got a project in Seoul, so I decided to join him. Staying in a hotel just over there.” Your forefinger points to the side a little lazily.
“So, not back?”
“Back for a little.” You counter.
Jungkook lets out a small laugh, “Does anyone know? Surely Jimin or Hobes would have told me.”
“Nah, it was a last minute thing, just got here last night.”
Jungkook hums in response, was a little bummed that you weren’t here for good. He had secretly hoped that you had moved back, found his café, and came to find him.
“Can’t believe you own a fucking Cafè Kook.” You spoke with pride, he had always said he would open his own one day, and you knew he would, just didn’t expect it to be at the age of 22.
Kook. The nickname rolls off your tongue so easily. It fucking punches him in the gut. He could barely handle making eye contact with you, or how your hands brushed against his when you took the cup of Matcha from him. But that? No that was too much, he loved when you would call him that. It always sounded so delicate, so sweet. Memories of you calling out to him when you would spot him at the exit of the subway, how when the two of you would argue you would still say it with a tone so gentle, or when you used to whisper it into his ear late at night when he wasn’t being as gentle with you.
“You look good,” Jungkook almost whispers, his eyes moving towards you. When your eyes meet his, he physically cannot look away, locked in, whether he likes it or not.
“Yeah?” You smirk, a light warmth rushing to your cheeks. “You look like absolute shite.” You bite your lower lip, fighting the laugh threatening to escape.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Was tryna have a moment, you fuckin’ idiot.” He laughs, tossing some sand onto your lap as he shakes his head.
An hour passes, then two, then three. The two of you sit on the beach, a place that once defined the bond between you—where you spent the majority of your free time together. Holding hands as you walked the shoreline, chasing each other down the beach after one of you kicked cold water at the other unexpectedly.
Three hours lost in conversation, answering questions about London, Jungkook filling you in on the latest drama with your old friend group, reminiscing about the times you both shared.
“Did you get to meet the queen?”
“Remember when you got dunked by that wave and your fuckin’ swim shorts fell off?”
“Jimin is still a slut. Hoseok is still dancing. Joon owns a fuckin’ reading café with Jin—pricks are heavy competition.”
“You didn’t have to walk me all the way here” you giggle, fidgeting with the swipe card for your hotel room.
Jungkook scoffs, playfully. “Always have walked you home.” The glow from the lobby lights highlights his face, and you can’t help but notice the way his tongue toys with his lip ring. You know you should turn around, but that small action stirs something, turning the butterflies in your stomach into something more chaotic.
You hum, a soft laugh escaping. “Night, Kook.” You walk backward toward the door.
“Tomorrow. Don’t forget. Benches. Lunch.” He smirks, raising a brow.
You stop in the doorway, hesitating. “Goodnight” doesn’t feel like enough. Turning back, you catch him watching you, hands buried in his pockets, looking as if he’s watching you leave again, back to a place where he can’t follow you.
You walk toward him without thinking, wrapping your arms around his neck in an embrace that feels like slipping back into a dream. His hands find your waist instantly, like they’ve been searching for this moment just as long as you have. He holds you tight—too tight—but you don’t mind. Isn’t letting you slip away again.
His head tucks into the crook of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The scent of his shampoo, the same one you used to lather into his hair during lazy mornings together, fills your senses. Your fingers tangle into the soft strands, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed at all.
It’s dangerous, how familiar this feels. How easily you could sink back into this, into him. The weight of four years, the ache of everything unsaid, presses against your chest. You’re not sure if this hug is healing you—or breaking you all over again. But right now, you don’t care. All that matters is him, here, holding you like he’s trying to rewrite the past.
Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. The silence feels fragile, like if one of you breathes too loudly, the moment will shatter. You close your eyes, trying to memorise the way this feels. The warmth. The safety.
“Fuck—I’ve missed you.” His voice is muffled, but you feel the words more than hear them. They vibrate against your skin, settling deep in your chest.
Your throat tightens. “Me too, Kook.” Your arms tighten around him, just for a moment. “So much.”
For a fleeting second, you allow yourself to believe that this could be enough—that holding him like this could somehow fix everything. But then his phone buzzes in his pocket, a sharp reminder that the world outside still exists. You feel him tense, the hesitation in his hold. And when you pull back, his hands linger for just a second too long, like he’s reluctant to let you go.
You meet his eyes, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. Just watch each other, silently wishing for the other to not leave.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
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It’s been 9 days of feeling the warmth of Busan’s sun kiss your skin. 9 days of savoring authentic food that you missed in London. 9 days of hearing the sound of Jungkook’s laughter fill your ears.
The last week has been nothing short of a dream you once wished for. Most of your days are spent beside Jungkook—revisiting your old hangout spots, splashing in the cool water of the beach, or even letting him try to teach you how to use his extremely overpriced coffee machine at his café.
Today was no different. You both left the café side by side, iced lattes in hand, no real destination in mind—just happy to be beside each other.
“Ah! Kook! Look! We have to go, we have to!” You beamed, your finger shaking toward a photobooth stand just a few meters away.
Jungkook doesn’t need to look to know exactly what you’re pointing at. He already knows—your excitement was always a dead giveaway whenever a photobooth was in sight. He’d let you drag him in, spend too much time taking way too many photos. Would never say no, he loved it too, capturing moments between the two of you, sometimes he would purposefully plan dates in locations he knew would have a photo booth close by.
He laughs softly, shaking his head, “You haven’t changed a single bit. You know that, right?”
“That’s not true,” you tease, “My tits have at least doubled in size.”
Jungkook’s face freezes for a moment, a slight heat creeping up his neck. He’d noticed. Hell, he’d caught himself staring more than once, but he always tried to focus on your eyes instead, failing most times, told himself you hadn’t noticed. You had.
You slap the brim of his black cap gently, snapping him out of his daze. “Hello? Stop thinking about my tits. Can we please?”
“Wasn’t thinking about your tits, freak,” he laughs, his cheeks flushed. “Go.”
You slide into the cramped photobooth after Jungkook, closing the curtain behind you. It was an older booth, no fancy filters or props for you to use. Two options; Colour or Black&White.
Jungkooks fingers pressed against the screen, knowing you preferred black and white.
The first few shots are a little awkward. A small space forcing you and Jungkook to enter one another’s space, you had one of your legs hooked over his thigh, one of his arms around your back to stop you from sliding off the metal seat of the booth.
“These are all ridiculous, my fuckin’ eyes are closed in half of them” Jungkook whines, flipping through the strips of photos. He wasn’t wrong, they mostly were of you both laughing or pulling some very unattractive face.
“Fine, one more. Proper one.” You smile, sitting a little straighter in the booth.
Jungkook presses the settings again. The countdown begins. Your head leans against his softly, both of you smiling.
Snap.
Jungkook looks at you, takes in your side profile, the way your hair falls so effortlessly around your face, the small lines that form around your eyes as you smile and laugh.
Your eyes turn to meet him, he almost looks pouty. Taking all of you in.
“What?”
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. Still so fuckin’ gorgeous.” He whispers.
Your eyes widen slightly, lips resting ajar slightly ready to say something but no words form to escape. His teeth tug on his lower lip ever so slightly as his eyes search yours.
Snap.
It's silent, both of you searching in eachothers eyes for something, anything. You swallow lightly, your eyes dropping to his lips where his teeth tug slightly, his lip ring flipping and causing your stomach to flip in unison.
His hand around your back moves to the side of your jaw, his thumb caressing over your cheek so softly you can only just feel it. You move in closer, your lips inches from his. Need this. Need you. Kiss me please.
Jungkook’s eyes shift to your lips, and his breath hitches for just a second. The usual confidence he carries falters, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. His hand, resting near your cheek, twitches, as if torn between pulling you closer or pulling himself away. The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words, but his eyes lock with yours again, and before either of you can think, his lips are on yours.
Snap.
Whatever thoughts had been running through his mind were quickly discarded. His lips crash against yours, you freeze for a moment, before your lips begin to work in partnership with his.
It doesn’t take long for Jungkook’s tongue to softly run against your lower lip, seeking entrance. When he’s met with your lips parting as an invitation he wastes no time. His tongue slides against yours, the way they work together makes it feel like no time has passed at all. So in tune with one another, knowing exactly what each other needs, exactly how one another like it.
The kiss grows heavier, soft grunts, light tugs of teeth against lips, pulling each other closer. No care for anyone passing by or if the curtain had moved. All either of you cared about was savouring this moment. Becoming one. Fuling eachothers fires.
Snap.
The faint sound of the photostrip being printed faded into the background, a distant reminder of the world outside. Neither of you moved, lips still entwined, reliving the taste of what once was. Touches so frantic yet familiar, hands grasping like they were afraid to let go, like holding tighter could stop time.
This was home.
Not a place, not a city—but this feeling. Safe, consuming, and so full of passion. London never offered that to you. And Jungkook lost the feeling of Busan being home as soon as you boarded that plane four years ago. But right here, in each other’s arms, it all made sense again. Like coming back to something that was always yours.
It isn’t until Jungkook’s phone starts to ring, the vibration rattling loudly in his pocket, that the moment shatters. His forehead rests against yours, as he lets out a quiet hiss of frustration.
“Fuck—sorry,” he mutters, eyes still half-lidded, voice low. “It’s probably work. I should take it.”
It’s not the first time his phone has stolen him away. You’d noticed it all week—calls that made him step aside, texts that pulled his attention mid-conversation. You told yourself it was just work, the demands of running a business.
Jungkook lingers a second longer, his hand brushing your knee as if reluctant to leave, before he finally slips out of the booth, leaving you alone with the aftertaste of a kiss that had ignited a fire that had been yearning for a flame for years.
You take the photos, pausing for a moment to flick through the dozen strips of memories captured on film.
Stepping outside, your eyes squint as they adjust to the bright sunlight above the beachfront. You scan the area, looking for any sign of Jungkook. It doesn’t take long before you spot him by a small gift shop, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over little beach-themed trinkets and keychains—miniature waves, seashells, and beach umbrellas.
“Everything okay?” you ask, stepping up beside him. Your fingers instinctively start to trace over the small ornaments, though your mind is still replaying the moments his lips were pressed against yours.
He slides his phone back into his pocket, offering you a soft glance before letting out a small sigh, which he quickly masks with a chuckle.
“Yeah, all good. Work,” he mutters, his lips tugging into a half smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, again.”
You smile lightly, dismissing it with a wave of your hand. “It’s fine, Kook. Really.”
Then, with a small tilt of your head, you give him a silent cue to follow you. You turn and start making your way back along the strip.
He follows beside you, his usual confident, bubbly persona dulled slightly. His hands don’t reciprocate the small touches yours give him, and his laugh comes out flatter than usual.
It ties your stomach in knots. Maybe the kiss was a bad idea. Maybe he’d already come to regret it—scared of being left by you again, or maybe he’d come to the conclusion that you just weren’t his cup of coffee anymore.
His feet follow for a few steps, but then he falls behind again. “Shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes meet yours as you turn to face him, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “I gotta go take care of some stuff back at the café.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, of course,” you smile, though it feels strained. When Jungkook sees the corner of your lips upturn, he thinks he can physically feel his heart twist. “I get it, go.”
Jungkook goes to speak but bites down on his lower lip to stop himself. He lets out a quiet huff of breath through his nose before making his way toward you.
His long, muscular arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Tomorrow? We’ll go to that hotpot place you used to froth over.”
His lips are gentle as they press a kiss to your forehead, and his hand holds your cheek as he gives you one last look before turning to head back to the cafè.
You wandered through the city, your feet tracing the familiar paths, but nothing felt quite the same. Every turn you took, every glance you stole at the places you had once visited with Jungkook, only deepened the ache in your chest. The weight of the kiss—the heaviness of the aftermath.
Jungkook’s absence was noticeable. The way he’d distanced himself after the kiss, the way he’d pulled back, had left you questioning everything. Was it something you imagined? Maybe he didn’t feel the same. Maybe for him, it was just a fleeting moment, a mistake.
You’re overthinking this, you told yourself. Maybe he just needs time. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t leave it like this.
The thought of leaving things unanswered felt wrong. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when you felt like something wasn’t. You needed to know if he had regretted it, or if he had changed his mind. The idea of him slipping away without ever acknowledging what had passed between you was something you couldn’t stomach.
With a deep breath, you turned towards the café. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew you had to go. For closure, for peace, or maybe just to hear his side. You told yourself it wasn’t about getting back what you once had, but about understanding what this all meant now.
The small bell above the door chimes as you step into the café. It’s lively, filled with groups of friends and couples, some snapping photos of their colorful drinks and beach themed pastries, others simply enjoying the ocean view that stretches out in front of them.
“Hi, welcome to Golden Hour! What can I get you started with?” A perky brunette greets you from behind the counter.
“Is Jungkook in?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual, but there’s a slight tightness in your chest that you can’t shake.
The brunette tilts her head, brows furrowing. “Jungkook? He hasn’t been in since this morning. Can I leave a message for you or something?”
A sudden weight settles in your stomach.
“Oh, no. That’s alright. I’ll just… come back later. Thanks anyway.” You force a smile, but it feels off—like you’re holding your breath, not quite sure what to do with the information.
Your mind races as you leave the café, your brows furrowed in confusion. He said he was going back to the café… So why hasn’t he been here? The questions circle in your mind: Is he okay? Why would he lie? Was it just an excuse to create some space between you two? Maybe he has an office away from the café? The doubt gnaws at you, leaving an uncomfortable feeling as you head back to the hotel, your mind nowhere near settled.
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You chose to spend the rest of your evening wrapped in blankets, munching on some takeaway watching terrible reality TV, desperate to escape your own.
It had been working, your eyes and ears were glued to the catfight playing on the flatscreen on the wall opposite your bed, until your phone had chimed beside you.
| 8:40pm
kook: u free? need to see u.
A simple straightforward message, one that you didn’t need to read into, but you did. Perhaps he had come to the conclusion that he needed his lips on yours again, or was ready to tell you that it was something he didn't want to partake in again.
| 8:42pm
You: level 7, room 613 :)
A simple straightforward reply. You wonder if Jungkook was reading into all your words and actions. Questioning them and romanticising them too.
A soft knock echoes from the opposite side of your door 20 minutes later. You’re quick to make your way towards the door, opening the door to see Jungkook, his hair messily falling around his face, dressed in sweats and a tee that was complimenting his figure a little too well.
“Hi stranger.” You tease, pushing the door to open wider to let him in, “Long time no see.”
He enters, his eyes darting around the room. It’s a decent-sized hotel suite, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the cozy seating area. The hum of the TV buzzes through the room as it flickers softly in the dim room. His eyes flicker between the bed and the small chair in the corner, unsure where to take his seat.
“I’m currently way too invested in Khloe Kardashian going to jail, so bed it is.” You laugh as you make your way into the room, sitting back into your side of the bed.
He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out a soft chuckle as he makes his way to the opposite side of the bed.
You both let silence fall upon you, eyes glued to the TV but neither of you are really listening.
“You still watch this shit?”
“If ‘this shit’ means ‘incredibly addictive and entertaining cinema’, then yes. Absolutely.”
This was probably the 9th time you’d watched this season. You could probably (no, definitely) recite the dialogue of the scenes yourself.
It was a quirk of yours to rewatch the same shows, the same movies, over and over again. You liked knowing how things ended, hated the suspense of being in the dark about the things you enjoyed—just like now, not knowing where things stood with Jungkook. It was easier to replay the past than to deal with the uncertainty of the present.
“Was everything okay at work?” You muse softly, eyes still on the TV, your eyes avoid Jungkooks, don’t want to see him lie to you.
He hesitates for a moment, adverting his gaze back to the TV, “Yeah, yeah. Was a bit of a shitshow, but it's fine.” He mumbles, shifting against the bed.
You hum softly in response, silence falling upon the both of you again. Jungkook is the one to break it this time.
“I’m sorry,” He turns to face you, “For having to dip, know we had plans and all.”
Your eyes meet his, they take in the look that’s rested on his face. His hair falling around his face, his hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, his eyes are locked on yours. All big and doe-eyed that you get lost in them, forget that he left, forget that he lied about going back to the cafè, forget that he had been standoffish after his lips crashed against yours.
“Do you regret it?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, “The kiss, I mean.” You almost wince, your head inches back slightly as if you’re bracing yourself for the answer Jungkook could give you.
Jungkook’s brows furrow, his chest tightening slightly at the thought that you had been thinking that he had been avoiding you because of regret.
“Oh fuck— No! Fuck, no of course I don’t regret it,” He sits upright, turning his body towards you and runs his hand through his hair, he can see your eyes searching his own for any reason to not believe him, “Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve been wanting that? I fuckin’ dream about it, have since you left. No, fuck, I promise, I would never regret it.”
You let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say or do. The answer he gives you puts to rest any anxiety you had been harboring about him regretting the kiss, but a feeling of uncertainty still lingers in your chest. Why then?
“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.
When Jungkook’s gaze falls over your face, a sick feeling coils in his stomach. Sick to his stomach? Maybe love-sick too? You look so conflicted—your eyes darting back and forth between his. A small smile graces your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and that sends a sharp jolt of self-hatred down his spine.
His hand reaches out, takes yours into his, “I promise you. I fuckin’ swear, I have never and will never regret you. Never.”
“That makes one of us.” You joke, a playful tone in your whisper, your own fingers intertwining with his, a perfect fit.
Jungkook laughs, shakes his head and squeezes your fingers between yours, “Fuckin’ idiot.”
The air between you feels lighter, hands staying locked together. There isn’t much conversation, not enough words that feel significant enough to truly convey how you both feel.
As the mood shifts, the air grows hotter. Tension rises between you, one that could rival the heat of Busan’s sun. You inch closer, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, both of you subconsciously leaning in. Your hands grow bolder, silently roaming over each other.
"Kiss me," Jungkook whispers, his lips barely grazing yours. "Fuck-please."
No need to be told twice. You've heard him loud and clear. Your lips meet his, softly at first, applying just enough pressure to let him know you're all in. His hand quickly finds the back of your head, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.
Your tongue slides gently into his mouth, tangling with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been building for ages. His hands move to your waist, tugging you closer, pulling you into him. Without hesitation, you straddle his lap, your lips never disconnecting. The feeling of your body pressed against his, the heat intensifying, sends him into overdrive. A soft grunt escapes his lips, muffled against yours, as his grip tightens.
Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, bundling the fabric into your palms and pulling it up and over his head. As your lips pull apart to help remove his shirt, your eyes connect, his normal doe eyed look replaced with his eyes narrowing, desperation and need shining from them.
Jungkook's lips leave a trail down your neck, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer as you straddle him. You can feel his breath against your skin, shallow and quick, as if he's trying to steady himself.
"Wait, I-" He pulls back for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. There's something in them. Something he wants to say. But before he can, you pull him back to you, your lips crashing against his again, desperate for the taste of his lips.
He groans against your mouth, his hands pulling you in closer . The words from before, the hesitation in his eyes, are forgotten as the moment swallows both of you whole.
You can feel the firmness in Jungkook's pants pressing up against you, your hips begin to slowly grind back and forth against him, desperate for friction, desperate for some kind of release.
"Fuck, Kook," you whisper breathlessly between kisses, "Want you. Need you." Your words stir something in him, a tension so thick it makes his chest tighten with need. He groans low in his throat, hands moving to your waist to pull you closer.
His hands move from your hips up to your back, roaming chaotically, they come forward, they press against your chest and squeeze lightly. He pulls his head back, watches as his hands slightly dig into your breasts.
“Shit- Look at you,” He hisses between his teeth, his hands coming to squeeze again. His eyes lift up to you, your cheeks flushed with a soft blush from the heat of it all, lips slightly ajar, thinks you look so perfect. Too perfect. It makes his stomach flip, “Fuck, I need to te-”
His words are cut off as you lift your own shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest to him, his hands immediately coming to cup them again. A low, raspy groan leaves his lips, squeezes them again, harder this time.
Any words that were threatening to leave his lips are long gone, washed away in the tsunami of desire and adoration he has for you. Forgotten, swept away by the tide. The only words he’s able to muster up now are whispered curses through his teeth as you pull his head softly towards your chest.
His lips press against your skin, hungrily. He simply can’t get enough. You, you, you. It’s all he hears. All he wants. His eyes peek up to look at you as his lips wrap around your nipple, softly sucking.
The feeling of his soft lips wrapped around you makes you whine softly, your fingers tugging slightly on the ends of his hair. When you look down to see his round eyes looking right back at you, you’re sure you’re going to melt. Happy to let the tide consume you, will become one with the waves if it means having Jungkook like this.
He sucks, kisses, tugs slightly over your sensitive nipple, going back and forth between each one. Can't get enough. Is all in, all for you.
Your hips lift slightly, a silent plea for him to rid himself of his sweatpants. He notices-of course, he notices-but for a split second, his hands falter at the waistband, a thought flickering in his mind. It vanishes almost as quickly as it comes, overpowered by the pull of you. His hands move quickly now, tugging his sweatpants down and kicking them off in one fluid motion.
Grabbing your hips, he pulls you back toward him, his grip firm yet tender, presses a soft kiss against your lips. With a soft grunt, he flips you onto your back. There’s urgency in the way Jungkook moves, showing you just how badly he needs you right now.
He watches as your hips lift slightly, your thumbs hooking under your waistband, sliding off the last barrier between you and him.
He swallows, hard. Is in awe of everything that is you. His eyes trace every curve, every detail he had once memorised. He almost marvels at how well he remembers your body-every point that makes you tremble, every spot that leaves you breathless. But is he really surprised?
How could he be? He has carried you with him in every way possible, mimicking how he used to love you with everyone after you, always chasing the high you had once given him. It's always been you, all he's known.
As your hand comes to rest against his cheek, your thumb gently ghosting over his lower lip, you send him a small nod. Please. Let’s do this. Need you now. You, you, you.
His eyes search yours for a brief moment, as if to confirm this is real, that this is really happening. Then, with a softness that contrasts the heat between you, he tilts his head, pressing a delicate kiss onto the pad of your thumb.
The warmth of his lips lingers there before he lowers his head into the crook of your neck, where he pauses. He inhales deeply, letting your scent ground him. His lips press against your skin.
Your legs part, as he slowly lets himself fall into you. A low, desperate moan leaving his lips. “Ah—Fuck.”
The whine that leaves your lips is made up of a thousand different reasons— The slight burn of Jungkook sliding inside you, the release of built up tension of waiting for this moment, and above all, the most powerful: Love. All the feelings you had sworn you had moved past during the distance are back, as if they had never left.
His hips slowly begin to rock back and forth, finding a steady rhythm as the familiarity of your walls tightens around him. Heavy breaths fill the room, and he feels your nails dig into his biceps, a soft yet desperate plea. He wants you to leave your mark, to scar him, so that he carries a permanent tattoo made from you.
His hand moves from beside you, to your chest, cupping onto your pillowed tit. Is brave enough to look at your face now, and when he does and see’s your lips parted, brows furrowed— He’s done for.
His hips slam into you, the pace quickening, desperate now. Your legs part wider, your back arching against the mattress as the rhythm shifts.
"Fuck, Kook. So good," you whimper, almost pathetically, your hands gripping his arms. “So, so good, Kook."
He curses through his teeth, lifting his upper body between your legs as he keeps thrusting into you. His hand moves down your stomach, his nails grazing lightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin.
He watches himself sink in and out of you, the new angle making his heartbeat race. His finger continues its journey down your torso, finally finding your clit.
Soft, delicate circles are drawn over your sensitive bud. He wants to push you to the edge, overstimulate you, but he's not sure how much longer he can last like this. He's overstimulated himself, finally feeling you wrapped around him again-and it hurts. It hurts because it's been so long, hurts because he knows nothing will ever compare to this, and it hurts knowing he might never have this again.
"So fuckin' pretty like this, my baby," he grunts, the pet name slipping from his lips so naturally, it only pushes you closer to the edge. "So, fuckin' perfect for me, aren't you?"
Baby. It shouldn't sting, but it does. It reminds you of the tattoo needle that had pierced your skin five years ago, a thin line replicating a wave on your ribcage. The kind of sting that leaves you sore, but somehow addicted to the pain.
"Fuck, Kook, you're gonna-Ah, shit. You're gonna make me cum." You moan, your elbows digging into the bed as you struggle to hold your weakening body up.
His free hand presses against your inner thigh, pulling it forward as his other continues to rub tight, precise circles over your clit. "Cum," he groans, his brows furrowing so deeply you swear they'll leave a mark. "Cum for me, baby. Show me. Let me feel you, hm?"
Your stomach tightens, your elbows giving out, sending your head crashing back against the mattress. You try to push his hand away from your overstimulated clit, want to stay like this forever but it's no use-he's never been one to lose.
Your moans grow louder, more desperate, mixing with the wet sound of his skin slapping against yours, each thrust desperate and bold.
He feels you tighten around him, your walls pulsing in small, desperate spasms. Soft whines of his name leaving your lips that send him into overdrive. The sensation drives him wild, completely lost in the sin that is you.
It doesn't take long before Jungkook follows suit, his teeth digging into his lower lip as his eyes squeeze shut, his orgasm washing over him, emptying deep inside you.
His hips rock slowly, still moving against you as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his lips pressing desperate kisses against yours, drinking in your whines.
Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his face finding comfort in the crook of your neck once more. The room falls silent, filled only with the sound of both your heavy breaths, struggling to regain normalcy.
"Shower?" You whisper into his ear, pressing a soft kiss against his lobe. He doesn't answer, only nodding against your skin.
You start the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your body. It tries to wash away any trace of his lips on your skin, but it's no use-his marks are invisible now, etched into your memory, and ones that only you two will ever know are there.
You’ve washed your body, your hair, your face, but Jungkook still hasn’t joined you in the shower. You dry off, throwing on the oversized tee that was hanging in the bathroom, and make your way back to the bedroom.
Jungkook is sitting on the bed, his figure dimly lit by the changing flashes from the TV screen. His back is to you, but his head hangs slightly between his shoulders.
“Kook?”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t reply. You walk towards him, kneeling down in front of him, positioning yourself between his legs. Gently, your hands reach for his wrists, pulling them away from his hanging head.
“Kook? Hey—what’s going on?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, the reassurance in it only making Jungkook feel worse.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “So, so fucking sorry, my baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Your brows pinch together in confusion, your face full of concern. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Kook—talk to me.”
He lifts his gaze to meet yours, letting his hands fall limply against his lap. His eyes are glassy, bloodshot, and his lower lip trembles as he tries to speak. “I fucked up,” he breathes out, almost choking on the words. “I’m so fucking sorry. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry.”
Your hand gently cradles his face, your thumb wiping away the stray tears as they fall. His face leans into your touch, a small kiss pressed into your palm, and that simple gesture sends him into a sob.
“What are you talking about, Jungkook? Talk to me— I can’t help you if I don’t understand.” Your voice is soft, trying to soothe his panic, but there’s a hint of fear to it.
“Kiss me. Please,” his voice cracks, eyes locked onto yours with a desperate plea. “Please, kiss me.” His words are broken by sobs.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to navigate this. He’s never been this vulnerable, and you’ve only seen him cry a handful of times—never like this. Gently, you kneel, brushing stray hairs from his forehead.
Your hand lifts his chin slightly, and you press your lips to his. It’s slow, painfully slow. Jungkook’s hands find their way to your face, gripping it with force, as though grounding himself. He tries to deepen the kiss, but all that escapes him is another sob.
You pull back slightly, sitting back on your knees, but just as you start to pull away, his hands catch yours, holding them gently before they can drop to your sides.
“Please, Kook.” You beg softly, your voice a mix of confusion and desperation.
“I didn’t mean to fuck this up. I really didn’t, my baby. I—fuck, everything just happened so fast. Everything’s been a mess, and then you showed up, and it just got even more fucked. I’m so fucking sorry.”
You’re still trying to make sense of what he’s so sorry for—kissing you? Sleeping with you? Regretting it? Not wanting this anymore? You have no fucking idea.
“Kook…I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say.”
His eyes meet yours briefly before they dart away, unable to hold your gaze. His lips part to speak, but another sob escapes him, followed by a curse that cuts through the air.
“I— I have,” his voice cracks, “Fuck, I have a girlfriend.”
Your body freezes, stone cold. Your hands go limp in his, your chest tightening as your breath quickens.
His eyes meet yours, tears falling down his face, lips trembling as he tries to find anything to say. “Please— I can explain, I swear. I— Fuck, you know that’s not who I am.”
Your hands rip away from his, standing up and stepping back, your brain completely void of thought, overwhelmed by a gut-wrenching scream that echoes through your mind.
“What?”
He stands up, his hands reaching for you again, but you take another step back. The small distance between you feels painfully familiar.
“Please— me and her, we were already on our last breath before you showed up. I just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it. But then you, you came, and I—”
“You’re fucking joking, right?” You almost laugh, tears brimming in your eyes. “Tell me you’re fucking joking.”
His head shakes as he searches for the right words, hating the sight of your tears, but feeling utterly helpless. Seeing you cry because of him makes him want to dig his own fucking grave.
“Is that why your phone’s been blowing up? Is that why you didn’t go back to the café today? Because she was waiting for you?”
“Stop— Please, baby, I promise. I was going to end it tonight, but I needed to see you first, and then— Fuck, I got lost in you again, in feeling you. I— Please, baby.”
“Oh, it’s my fault?” Your voice cracks, bitterness cutting through the air. “I’m the reason you cheated? I’m the reason you lied?”
“Baby, no. It’s all fucking mine. I fucked it up. I wanted to tell you, was going to when we first hung out. Fuck—I just got so caught up, seeing you again, then I kept pushing it back, avoiding it. Didn’t want to ruin us.”
“Get out.”
He sobs, his voice breaking, “Please—fuck, please. We can figure it out. Please, baby.”
“Stop fucking calling me that, Kook!” You push at his chest, feeling like you’re being suffocated by the weight of his presence. London doesn’t sound so bad now. In fact, maybe it’s even too close.
He lets you push him, knowing he deserves it. Knows this is probably the last time your hands will ever press against his body. He stumbles back, letting you shove him toward the door as his sobs echo, watching helplessly as your tears fall.
“Please, get the fuck out. Fuck off, go. Leave.” You spit between the shoves. His back presses against the door, your pushes no longer having the same effect. Instead, you let your head drop against his chest, your shoulders shaking as you cry.
Your hands grip the shirt that clings to his frame, your voice quiet but cracked, laced with sobs, “Why the fuck did you do this?” You’re barely holding it together. “Why fuck me over? Why did you fucking do this?”
Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over them softly, but nothing can ease the hurt between you. He can’t say anything to make this right, can’t justify why he kept this secret, why he didn’t tell you sooner.
He wants to—God, how he wants to sit you down and explain everything. He wants to tell you that his relationship with her had been hanging by a thread long before you even walked into his life. That it was a ghost of what it had once been, both of them too scared to be the one to end it. They hardly spoke anymore, both just avoiding the inevitable end.
But he knows there’s no point now. He fucked up. He’s still in a relationship, even if it’s nothing but a shell, and that’s a reality he can’t escape. He knows what he did was wrong. And even though the feelings for you that had resurfaced swallowed him whole when you walked into his coffee shop, he was greedy. He let himself want you, even though he knew this situation cursed any chance of a future between you two.
“I love you.” He whispers, broken.
And you know he does. You’ve felt it, felt what it’s like to be loved by Jeon Jungkook.
His hand reaches for the door, twisting the handle. Your hands fall from his shirt, your arms hanging at your sides as your breath shakes in your chest. You take a step back.
His hand gently cups your face, brushing away the tears that keep falling. When you look up at him, his sob is painful, raw. It only grows louder when your own hand rests over his.
He presses his lips to yours one last time, desperate, consuming. He breathes you in, as if trying to make this moment last forever, but the kiss ends too soon.
“I love you,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.
The only response is the sound of the door locking behind him, his departure sealing the silence of your suite.
786 notes · View notes
temiizpalace · 3 months ago
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☆┊DRESS TO IMPRESS!
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SUMMARY: playing dress to impress with him!
CHARACTERS: all dorms + others
GENRE: fluff
WARNINGS: none
NOTES: i feel so bad for having people with requests wait so long but im losing ideas and idk what to write 😭😭😭 please bear with me event requesters,,,,, ik i suck at this
reader gender is not mentioned, reader not specified to be yuu
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VERY COMPETITIVE
if he catches you trolling it’s on sight. he takes this game very seriously, and refuses to get anything lower than 3rd. when you play together and ask to duo, he carries. you’ll see him with the most impressive and beautiful outfit you’ve ever seen and watch him lose his mind when he gets 5th. he spams poses, like in full concentration mode. also a very harsh critic. if he sees you off theme it’s an immediate 1 star, no exceptions. anytime he critiques your outfit you feel like an office worker with an overly harsh boss that demands better. he also probably has VIP. and beef with 10 year olds. (so think of when caseoh plays, but less yelling)
riddle, azul, jamil, vil, rollo
PLAYED IT AS A JOKE : IS NOW HOOKED
at first he thought it was just a dumb and silly dress up game for girls.. boy was he wrong. when he first played with you, he was expecting to hate this game to its core. he was a troller at first, purposefully making dumb outfits that don’t even match, barely adding anything to his outfit at all. suddenly, something in his mind flipped, and now he’s addicted. you’ll catch him sometimes playing his free time, teasing someone like him for playing a dress up game. not that you have room to talk. duos are fun, he likes being partners with you. he’s probably the kind of guy to vote everyone one star and then vote you five, but he expects five stars in return.
deuce, ruggie, epel, idia, skully j. graves
LOVES THE GAME
he’s played this before, he loves it! dressing up in cute outfits and watching other people dress up in cute outfits? why wouldn’t he play? and to play with you? that’s even better! wouldn’t be as competitive as the first category, but does take the game seriously. he doesn’t despise trolls, actually laughs at them sometimes. he does find it unfair they make the podium sometimes, but it’s really just a game. he loves duoing with you and wearing matching outfits, absolutely adorable! he either votes pretty fairly or votes everyone five stars depending on who they are. please play more with him, he loves this game!
cater, kalim, rook, ortho, lilia, neige
NOT THAT INTERESTED
what’s the appeal to it? it’s just playing dress up, nothing special. he’ll play once in awhile with you, but don’t expect it to be a regular thing. it’s just not his cup of tea. obviously since he doesn’t play often, his outfits are subpar. nothing podium worthy. votes pretty fairly, giving criticism and critique on other people’s outfits (though his aren’t that much better). he doesn’t mind being a duo with you, but you definitely carry. personally he thinks trollers are ruining the game and making it annoying for those who play religiously. overall, just a dress up game. would play but only if you play too.
trey, leona, jack, sebek, silver
THE TROLLER
is that one guy who has nothing on their character and walks onto the stage with no hair or makeup. skin tone is still at the default, colors on the clothes are unchanged, and it’s all on purpose too! would dress up in dumb outfits for a completely different theme and loves watching people argue about it in the chat. votes everybody one star because they’re just silly like that! absolutely cackles if he gets on the podium and loves watching the server get into fights about it. you don’t duo with him, you know better. loved playing with you, but it doesn’t seem the feeling is mutual.
ace, jade, floyd, che’nya
HOW TO POWER HANDHELD DEVICE
teach him how to use a phone first. doesn’t know how to log in to his account. when he joins the game, poor baby kept running into walls trying to put on shoes. outfits are usually incomplete or unchanged because he doesn’t know how to take off accessories or how to put them on. votes fair enough, but doesn’t ever make the podium. if you ask to duo, you’ll have to teach him cause he also doesn’t know about that either. basically just a big man baby who needs help using technology for the first time.
malleus
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A/N: obsessed with this game lately (idia would know all the lana lore)
date published: 10/10/24
© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!
982 notes · View notes
lizdive · 6 months ago
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hello! platonic aventurine, jing yuan, blade, sunday, boothill, dan heng and dr ratio with a teen!reader who is like lynette from genshin?
please do include lynette’s backstory as well :3
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love my girlie lynette i remember when i first got her i maxed her out as quick as possible she’s so pretty <33 idk why tumblr wasn’t cooperating with me while i was trying to format this istg,,,, tysm for requesting !! sorry this took some time,, if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33
notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a teenager ,, reader is based off of "lynette" from the game genshin impact ,, platonic relationships ,, mentions of being sold, close to being 'used', creepy old men, and other things relating to lynette’s past ,, yanqing is referenced in jing yuan’s part ,, mention of silver wolf in blade’s part ,, mention of march in dan heng’s part ,, mention of screwllum in dr ratio’s part ,, this is not proofread pls ignore typos especially bcs this is so long i cannot proofread this all rn
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⭑ AVENTURINE has worked with many people and therefore has seen it all when it comes to appearances and personalities, but you by far are the most interesting person he’s met.
⭑ He’s tried to interact with you before, and every time you give him a bizarre and odd response he only tries harder. Mostly because he wants to properly hold a conversation with you, but also because he wants to see how odd your replies can get.
⭑ He doesn’t blame you for not trusting him so easily. Many who have joined the IPC have done it out of force and therefore trust nobody. He actually feels a bit proud that you are not naive and stay guarded around the other workers so they don’t take advantage of you. Still, he’ll try his best to befriend you so you aren’t alone.
⭑ Finds your swordsmanship very impressive. Your agility and strength brings you praise from him and sometimes he’ll watch you train. You don’t say anything to him as usual. Whenever you spot him you just stare at him with that poker face of yours and continue as if he isn’t even there.
⭑ When he notices how much tea you drink on a daily basis, he’ll gift you the finest tea on the market as a 'good job' for completing missions successfully. You’ll know it’s from him because of it’s value and because he always leaves little notes on the boxes.
⭑ If you ever invite him to have some tea and sweets with you, trust that he will be there whether it be physically or using a hologram if he’s far away. He’ll prepare tea in his location and make it look like he’s actually present with you physically in the moment.
⭑ The longer AVENTURINE spends time with you, the more he finds himself subconsciously keeping a sweet treat with him at all times in case you’re craving something. If you’re off on a mission he’ll make sure to give you money for your tea and sweet treats alone and will ask you to send him pictures of what you got.
⭑ He’s is very interested in your feline features and traits. When you tell him about your rare case of atavism, he’s very intrigued. He may do his own little experiments like buying you cat toys to see your reaction which is up to interpretation. Also, he’ll bring you fish dishes during your lunch breaks whenever you forget to bring your food!
⭑ Loves watching your performances and would be honored if you asked him to assist you! If you ever want to hold something grand-scale he’ll be more than happy to rent you a full theatre to perform in. Best advertisements for your shows and everything.
⭑ When you open up to him about your past, he can only sit there is surprise and pity. You were so young yet already went through so much before joining the IPC. He can relate to you in some ways as well. He knows what it’s like to be sold off to men who only used instead of cared.
⭑ If you tell him that man may still be alive, he’ll do a bit of research. If he is, then AVENTURINE will have a lovely gambling match with him! No worries, it’s all for fun! Fun for you, at least, when you get to go shopping with all the money the man once had but now lost. Buy yourself some nice outfits and self-care products, you deserve it !!
⭑ If you ever have moments where you feel bad or icky from your past, or have nightmares, he’ll always be there to comfort you. Call him, text him, go up to him and ask for comfort, or if he’s near and notices he’ll come and ask you if you’re okay and if you wanna talk about it. He’s good at distractions. Why not have some snacks with him, It’s time for shopping, there’s this new restaurant that opened that serves purely seafood.
⭑ He’ll do the talking for you. If anyone tries to switch from him to you he’ll either let you give the weirdest response ever or steer them back to him. He also appreciates how you don’t beat around the bush and how frank you are.
⭑ You’re bad with machines and tech? AVENTURINE doesn’t think much of it until you wreck the fifth computer that month.. oh well, he’ll just buy you a new one. He’ll try his best to teach you and help you improve and fix your machinery clumsiness, but he’ll also tease you and joke about it.
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"Tea is ready, now it's time for a short rest."
"Alright, just let me finish the last paper in this file and I’ll be right there. I have some new news about [+] from the genius society~"
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⭑ The general of the Luofu attending your performances instead of working? More likely than you think! You various tricks and acts are a nice pass-time when he doesn’t feel like completing the mountain of paperwork stacked up on his desk. While you aren’t the most expressive person which may lead to some acts come off as dull, he finds amusement in how your personality contradicts your occupation.
⭑ A bit concerned when he spots you walking around the large ship without any supervision on multiple occasions, but it’s not his place to ask and you don’t look distressed or anything (not that you ever do.) However, he’ll order some cloud knights to keep a close eye on you just in case anyone were to try anything.
⭑ JING YUAN found out about your swordsmanship skills from Yanqing. It was when the young boy had returned from his training, utterly exhausted with his hair looking like had been attacked by a wind storm, that he is told about the teen with the feline features has some impressive swordsmanship.
⭑ That’s when his interest was piqued and he tries to interact with you. After performances he’ll give you some praise and ask how you’re doing. This, of course, makes you a bit nervous as this is the general of the luofu and here he his talking to you like you’re his kid,, so you do what you do best and hit him with one of your outlandish responses that makes him pause.
⭑ JING YUAN laughs thinking you’re pulling off one of your acts, but then you do it again and again and by the end of the interaction you have successfully made the general question if his age was getting to him.
⭑ Still, he will continue to praise you and ask how your day is after every performance, sometimes offering a game of starchess if you’re not too busy. His consistency is what gets you to trust him as he shows no ill-intent, especially after you grow closer to Yanqing behind the scenes as the boy constantly spars with you.
⭑ He doesn’t mind how frank and straightforward you can be. Like Aventurine, he’s worked with many different people and appreciates it. Your pokerface is also something he’ll praise you for as it’s very useful in combat and when playing against him.
⭑ When you open up about your past, JING YUAN can’t help the seed of anger that has been planted in him, and the more you share, the more that anger grows. He knows this world is cruel, but he had secretly hoped that it had been kinder to you. His relief is very evident on his features when you tell him that the man hadn’t been able to do anything relating to your body.
⭑ Will issue an order to a small group of cloud knights to find the man who had dared to put you through such a horrible experience. They won’t be the one to use him as a training target, however. That is for JING YUAN to enjoy. Oh, don’t mind him. Something important came up. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. You just enjoy your tea and sweets.
⭑ Speaking of tea and sweets, JING YUAN will always be down for tea time with youHe’ll try to clear at least a nice period in the afternoon to dedicate it to tea time with you. It becomes a tea party as Yanqing join you both sometimes. Takes tea time very seriously and will pause whatever he’s doing to attend. Clock strikes tea time? He’s leaving mid-conversation.
⭑ Cat naps!! It’s a big pile of you, him, mimi, and sometimes Yanqing, all curled up together and slumbering peacefully under the warm sun. He’ll use the excuse of keeping an eye on you when you’re napping just so he can nap as well. He indulges your cat instincts / traits a lot (sometimes you think he’s secretly a cat, too.)
⭑ Finds the fact that you’re very clumsy with machines very funny but also surprising. You’re so skilled with your blade and you perform such intricate acts and tricks that take years go master yet you struggle using a vacuum?? It’s a pretty bad case especially because the luofu is very mechanical-machinery reliant, so if anything randomly breaks, JING YUAN will just sigh as he knows it’s most likely you.
⭑ He won’t always be there to do the talking for you, but he’ll do his best. Plus, not many people will chat with you when the general is around. They’d either be too intimidated or just think it’s not in their place. If you ever wish to avoid social interaction, just stick next to him.
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"Animals can also express their feelings. If you listen carefully, you can tell what state they are in. For a kitty, 'Meow~' means they are much happier than 'Meow meow meow!', and in that situation, you can pet them as much as you want and they won't run away."
"Hmm… is that so? Well, mimi makes more of a 'Meow… meow meow meow!' noise when I pet her. What emotion does that convey?"
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⭑ This man does not interact with anyone, so how you two became close is still a mystery to the other stellaron hunters. Still, it’s clear that you both have some sort of bond that’s inseparable.
⭑ Missions with the both of you is just comfortable silence. The two of you are like the social outcasts of any setting. Well, at least the missions are completed swiftly. Most of the time, the third person of the mission doesn’t even have to do anything in the combat department. You both just slice and dice.
⭑ There is no doing the talking for each other because nobody talks to you both, anyways. People are too intimidated to talk to you both with how doll-esque you seem and how scary he is. You both are social interaction repellents and it can be a bit annoying for some, but people like Silver Wolf love it.
⭑ You both bond over not being the best with technology and machinery. You both never rarely use your phones and therefore are victims of having your phones used by other people. You both really couldn’t care less.
⭑ BLADE will watch your performances whenever he isn’t busy with missions. If you want him to help you, it’ll take a bit of convincing, especially if it involves you being in enclosures like being in a glass box with water or something. During dangerous tricks like those he’s very focused so nothing bad happens. Would prefer if he was the one at risk instead of you,,,
⭑ If you want to spar with him, he’ll be hesitant. Yes, you’re good with your sword, but he’s much much more skilled and he’s worried he’ll accidentally hurt you. He’l mentor you, however. Teaching is fine, but sparring is a big nono.
⭑ Doesn’t really care much for your feline features. BLADE has seen a lot of hybrids in his time so yours are not a shocker. He’ll be considerate of any boundaries and will make sure people don’t touch your ears or tail of course, but he won’t treat you any differently than any other person.
⭑ Will drink tea with you occasionally but he won’t eat the sweet treats. Likes tea himself, so he’ll enjoy your little tea times. He’ll bring back new types of teas you have yet to try during missions. If he’s going back to the planet or if it’s nearby and you liked a specific type, he’ll buy it again in larger portions so you can drink as much as you want.
⭑ Opening up to him is like talking to a wall. He looks stoic as always on the outside but trust that on the inside he has already thought of over 100 ways to make that man’s life a living hell. Like Jing Yuan, he knows the world is cruel. He will simply be crueler. Doesn’t take long for him to find the man who had bought you, and that day Blade’s bounty is soaring with how big the increase is.
⭑ Not the best with comforting others but if you’re having a bad day because of the memories or feel icky or something BLADE will make sure everyone gives you space and lets you have your you time. Will prepare tea and a snack for you, too.
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"I used to think that the golden sun and dark shadows of the night could never understand one another. But in you, I see a kind of strange complexity that has needlessly piqued my curiosity..."
"…mmn.."
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⭑ Another one that attends your shows! The news of a rising feline-featured performed piqued his interest, and so on opening night for your first show he could be seen seated in the spectator seats up top.
⭑ Really enjoys how your stoic demeanor balances your dramatic acts. While he knows your lack of enthusiasm isn’t the most encouraging for people to return or interact, he appreciates how different it is from the other over the top performers that litter penacony. SUNDAY soon becomes a regular at your shows.
⭑ It was you who came up to him first. You simply wanted to thank him for his consistent attendance and constant support, but he soon swept you int conversation and no matter how many odd and bizarre responses you gave him, he always managed to adjust to keep the conversation going. You cannot win with him.
⭑ These back-stage / after-show conversations soon become almost as frequent as his attendance to your performances. Also, his frequent attendance does not go unnoticed and when news of the head of the oak family being seen during almost every performance goes viral your popularity skyrockets.
⭑ Have you ever thought of security work as a side-occupation? It was when SUNDAY was escorting you to call a taxi that he saw your swordsmanship in action. Your theatre borders some dangerous territory, but memes were usually taken care of. He now knew who dealt with him as he watched you obliterate the ones that appeared. It reassures him knowing that you can take care of yourself.
⭑ Everyone in his residence knows how serious tea time is. Servants are rushing around in the kitchens trying to prepare the perfect sweets and snacks. To prepare the tea just the way you both like it, hot enough for SUNDAY but cool enough for you. The poor servants’ stress levels are always through the roof when it’s tea time preparation, and you are blissfully unaware of it all. By the time you’re in sunday’s office or lounge, everything has already been prepared.
⭑ Just like you are intrigued by SUNDAY’s halovian features, he is intrigued by your feline features. When you both are close enough, he’ll let you preen his wings and you’ll let him groom your ears and tail. He’s much more fussy with you, however. The second he spots a stray strand of fur in his office, he’s demanding your presence so he can get rid of the rest of the loose fur. He’ll get even more fussy before your performances and will always do last-minute checks before you’re out on stage.
⭑ Another one that appreciates your honesty and how you always cut straight to the point. Can always rely on you to tell him what he needs when he needs it. Also, your attention to detail is very useful and sometimes he’ll ask of you to focus on certain people during a show and report back to him.
⭑ The second you begin to open up about your past, SUNDAY is right beside you reassuring you to take it slow especially when you tell him about the man you were sold to. He’s pissed, rightfully so, but during the moment he’s supportive and makes sure to make it very clear that you are not anything negative you say about yourself should you do so.
⭑ SUNDAY is very good at interrogations, and with THEIR ability he’ll know if that wretched scum lies to him. There is no justifying, there is no 'the past is past' — there is no redemption. Once the man admits all he has done, he will be rid of. Vanished off the face of the cosmos. Nobody will know anything about him.
⭑ He’ll help you practice for performances, but he won’t go up on stage with you. He’d rather watch from afar as he doesn’t want to steal the spotlight from you. Your show nights are all about you, and he’ll make sure of it. There will be no disturbances and no casualties.
⭑ Funds all of your performances. Buys you any and all equipment you want and need. Want to expand your theatre? Done and without any charge. SUNDAY is your number one supporter and defender !!
⭑ He doesn’t mind doing the talking for you, but he’ll try and encourage you to talk for yourself. It would do you good to indulge in some small talk and conversation every once in a while! But if you insist you don’t want to and just want to be left alone without conversation, he’ll understand and drop it.
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"After the sun goes down, the desires hidden in people's hearts will rise to the surface... I mean— evening shows are spectacular. Should I reserve a ticket for you?"
"Ahaha, yes, please do reserve a ticket."
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⭑ Was creeped out the moment he met you. You were so still and expressionless that he thought you were a doll until you suddenly rushed forward and beat ass. If he had a heart it would’ve definitely stopped.
⭑ BOOTHILL couldn’t deny your swordsmanship was praiseworthy, however. Your agility, your sharp cuts, everything about it was impressive for someone your age. He tried to praise you but you gave him that stoic look and blurted out the most random sentence he’s heard and walked away leaving him dazed.
⭑ It doesn’t matter if your shows are expensive or not, BOOTHILL WILL get himself a ticket just to be able to figure out what it is with you. Also, because the idea of your dull expressionless self doing magic tricks had him doubling over in laughter. However, he was surprised at how professional you were with every act and trick.
⭑ Managed to sneak backstage and looked around for you only to find you gone. Was disappointed because he really did want to praise you for your skill— well, now skills. And maybe wanted to know who the hell trained you and how you were so good for a teenager.  Oh well, there was always the next show.
⭑ Or, there was always that same night. Saving you from some creepy men who were trying to do Aeons know what was all it took for you to glue yourself to him and use him as your meat shield. Not that BOOTHILL minded, it was kinda of in his job description and his morals to protect innocent people, especially when they were on the younger side.
⭑ He’s still a bit creeped out by how you’re so.. doll. You follow him around like a reserved duckling. And it’s not just following him around until the end of his stay — no, he literally finds you grabbing onto his jacket as he makes his way to leave to complete another bounty. There’s no getting rid of you and he’s accepted that.
⭑ He’ll definitely tease you about your feline features and behaviors. Calls you a clingy cat and will buy you cat toys as jokes. If you get upset, he’ll quickly apologize and make it up to you by taking you to your favorite seafood restaurant and letting you get whatever you want. If you don’t mind the jokes, then you’ll have a pile of cat toys that grows with each month!
⭑ Didn’t understand why you’d always stand in the corner of his mechanic’s shop when he was getting upgrades or repaired. He though it was just some teenage shyness but then one night he watched you blow up a literal vacuum. Terrified of you messing with his wires while he’s asleep charging. He tried to help, but gave up and backed away when you proceeded to fry your phone because it overheated.
⭑ Finds it absolutely hilarious when you’re interacting with people. Whether it’s your brutal honesty when talking to others or just one of your flabbergasting sentences to get them to leave you alone, it’s all comedic gold to him. Until it’s targeted at him,,, then uhm,,, yeah,,, okay maybe it’s a bit funny but still,,,,,
⭑ BOOTHILL knows he can come off as intimidating, and he’ll use it to his advantage if you don’t want anyone to talk to you. If someone tries to push it, they’ll have a nice revolver in their face and a protective cyborg ready to shoot at any moment should they push it even more.
⭑ When you open up to him about your past, all he can feel is rage — so much so that his internal fans are whirring to cool him down. He immediately asks you if you remember his name, his appearance, anything. He’ll also comfort you if you feel bad or feel like it’s your fault, which it definitely isn’t.
⭑ Oh sorry, he just got a new bounty you can’t go on. It’s just too dangerous! Don’t worry, you stay and spend all his money like some spoiled teen if you want. He’ll be back soon, you just relax and have a little you time!!
⭑ Would love to take part in your performances. He’s cautious if he’s on stage, however, and will probably use a disguise so nobody notices him since he is a wanted man, after all. He doesn’t want to risk your safety because of his status. He has yet to find out you also have a rising bounty on your head because you’ve been spotted numerous times with him.
⭑ BOOTHILL doesn’t mind your little tea time as long as it doesn’t get in the way of important bounties and dangerous missions. Even if it does, he’ll just tell you to maybe change your schedule? He’ll take you to a nice tea shop to make up for it but please focus on the bounty so it can be over with and you’ll be safe,,,
⭑ Really wants to know how you do that teacup card trick,,,
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"I'm not accustomed to expressing myself, but I consider myself a good listener. If you have any troubles, tell me. I'll guard your secrets."
"I don’t doubt ya, kid."
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⭑ DAN HENG initially did not expect you to trust anyone quickly when you first joined the express. It takes one to know one, but he can tell rather quickly that you were cautious of everyone despite your poker face. He doesn’t talk too much with you, not that he gets the chance as you give your weird replies to everyone who tries to talk to you.
⭑ He doesn’t realize that you inviting him for tea time in your room is a privilege only he has until March complains about your 'favoritism'. He’ll ask you about it and you’ll confirm it. He won’t ask why but it’s nice to know you trust him more than anyone else.
⭑ You both are social outcasts 2.0. He’ll do most of the talking for you both, but if anyone else from the crew is present, especially March, then they’ll do the talking for you both. He’s also the only one to understand your random response and to this day nobody knows how he does it.
⭑ Just like he needs to tend to his vidyadhara traits, you need to tend to your feline ones. Doesn’t mind if you randomly start shedding but will get a bit bothered if you leave your shedded fur around in the archives. If it gets to much he’ll sit you down and comb through your tail and ears’ fur himself. Also, if you’re comfortable with it, please put in some data about your avatism in the archives.
⭑ DAN HENG doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic during your performances, but he does enjoy them. He’ll clap and give some words of encouragement, but he’s not full on beaming. He just doesn’t know how to properly show his support physically so he’ll show it with praise and giving you trinkets and things he thinks you would or could use.
⭑ Also doesn’t mind helping you with acts and performances, and it’s funny how the both of you have this deadpan poker face while doing the most dramatic over the top jaw dropping trick. You both have a bit of a reputation on some planets that you’ve publicly performed during free time on missions,,
⭑ DAN HENG, like Blade, isn’t the best at comforting people — he can barely comfort himself. He’s a bit emotionally awkward. Still, he’ll try his best to comfort you as you open up to him about your past. He’s upset, but never at you. He’ll pat your back comfortingly or let you hug him.
⭑ If there’s ever a mission where he lays eyes on that man should he still be alive, DAN HENG will act on your behalf. He just needs to keep his skills sharp, that’s all. WORLD CLEANSING DRAGON—
⭑ If you have nightmares, you’re always free to sleep next to him in the archives. He knows how bad nightmares can be as someone who has suffered from them, and if you get embarrassed because you think it’s childish due to your age, he’ll pretend to still be asleep when you enter his room late to snuggle next to him.
⭑ Your clumsiness with technology and machinery genuinely concerns him. He’ll try to keep as little tech in your room as possible and will supervise you whenever you do literally anything with objects of the sort so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone around.
⭑ There’s a lot of things DAN HENG doesn’t realize he’s doing unless someone points it out. How he orders dishes that have some fish in them so he can give them to you, how he always makes sure your tea is cool enough for your sensitive tongue, how he know when you’re upset or not just from your ears.
⭑ Doesn’t mind sparring with you, but he’ll go easy on you. If you want him to mentor you, he’ll take it very seriously. He wants to make sure that you’ll be able to defend yourself should anything happen. Yes, he knows your swordsmanship is impressive for your age, but he also knows that impressive does not equal safety every time. He may be a bit strict, but it’s for your wellbeing so please don’t get upset.
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"Go to sleep, I still have some loose ends to tie up from work today... I still have to fix the vacuum cleaner I broke.."
"That’s the third one this month.."
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⭑ Was a bit surprised when he entered his lecture to find a feline-featured teenager sitting front row staring at him with a dead look. Was a bit creeped out, but whatever. He was fully expecting you to drop out after the first class.
⭑ Was surprised once again when you showed up for the next lecture. And the one after and after and after. Not to mention you were diligent and observant. You noticed a lot of things and after you two grew close, he’s a bit intimidated by how much you know and notice.
⭑ Some of the other students hate you for it bcs you can easily snitch on them if he ever asked you to. They can never say anything about it because you either ignore them or VERITAS steps in and scolds them.
⭑ You’re like a therapy cat for him but not in a weird way. If you let him, VERITAS will study your case of avatism. With how cat-like you behave, he’ll do some tests like scratching your ears and petting you. Would also see your reaction to cat toys. Now, why do I say therapy cat? Because your purring calms him down always. Also you make him feel like a cat dad.
⭑ He’ll get annoyed if you freely shed all around. Will scold you every time and then expect you to groom yourself properly. If you don’t he’ll get all huffy and frustrated as he does it himself but he really doesn’t mind. He just puts up an act.
⭑ You both are a scary duo. Some people think you’ve gotten your frank and brutal tongue from VERITAS, but you were like that since young. Still, many firmly believe you got it from him. You needn’t worry about unecessary conversation — people are too scared either you or him will rip them a new one for even looking at you. (exaggeration)
⭑ And while many are intimidated and scared of you, getting easily offended at your lack of sugarcoated words, VERITAS appreciates how blunt you can be. Will tell other people to be like you and doesn’t care if they get offended LMFAO
⭑ Probably the one on this list that’s the biggest enjoyer of tea time. You’ll be working on your assignments and be’ll be grading others’ assignments while enjoying sweet snacks and tea. Either that, you both sit in comfortable silence, or you’re dropping all the latest gossip you’ve heard and things you’ve noticed about your classmates that he hasn’t.
⭑ Contrary to the popular belief of his students, VERITAS finds himself enjoying your magic tricks and performances. It takes skill to do what you do, and he has to give credit where it’s due. He won’t really help during your acts, but he’ll give his input and ideas on how to improve like a better angle or quicker actions.
⭑ Also, VERITAS would encourage you to better cultivate your swordsmanship! I’d like to think he has connections, so he’ll find you someone if you want a mentor. If not, then that’s fine too. He’ll remind you everyday to go train for at least an hour. He won’t force you if you don’t feel like it, of course. As long as you’re with him, he’ll be able to protect you anyways.
⭑ Also one of the not-so-good comforters on the list when you open up about your past. So instead, he’ll brutally degrade the man you were sold to until you feel better. He’s trying his best, please understand that. He’ll give you an awkward pet to the head to top it all off.
⭑ I feel like VERITAS wouldn’t do anything to the man physically. Instead, he’ll care for your skills and enhance them until you’re known across the cosmos. Be it as a scholar, a sword fighter, a performer, or something else. Because in his eyes, that’s the best revenge.
⭑ Should that man still be alive, he will see that the one he saw as nothing but a toy to use is now one of the brightest stars in the cosmos, known all throughout while he is rotting away like the scum bastard he is.
⭑ Now, VERITAS is very prideful with his favorite and best student and he supports you, but,,,, but what is this,,,,, how are you so horrible with technology and machinery???? Were you born yesterday??
⭑ Like Dan Heng, he’ll supervise you whenever you’re using anything that has tech and/or machinery in it. Almost got a heart attack when he saw you tinkering with something that piqued your interest on Herta’s space station — VERITAS genuinely thought you’d bring the end of the station by blowing it up.
⭑ Would implement things in divergent universe (domain based off of tea time, occurrence, etc.) that relates to you and he wouldn’t even realize it until Screwllum points it out to which he denies.
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"Making tea looks simple on the surface, but it is actually quite complex. The quality of the tea leaves, the temperature of the water, the number of times to add water... Only when every variable is properly controlled can tea of the purest taste be brewed. Would you like a cup?"
"You truly are passionate in the art of tea making, hm? But, yes, I would like a cup."
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764 notes · View notes
k0yaz · 5 months ago
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shackled.
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Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader
CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.
A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️
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Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.
You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.
Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.
Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?
Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.
There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.
“I’m home.”
You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.
Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.
“You got some-“
“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.
Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.
Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.
A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.
Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.
Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.
“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”
She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.
However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.
Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.
Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment
“You didn’t want this either did you?”
Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.
“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.
“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.
“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”
You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.
“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.
“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”
Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.
Maybe, you could warm up to her.
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A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️
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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year ago
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Self-aware au
Written before the English release!
I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!
WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Jp-version spoiler(!!!), death, description of war, unhealthy mindset, religion, obsessive themes, unhealthy family dynamics
General! Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Maleanor Draconia/(Platonic) Knight of Dawn-Yandere headcanons
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Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce? Lilia Vanrouge 1.0. The more cold, hard and ready to behead the next human version of the usual Lilia (also known as the Lilia Vanrouge 2.0 model)
Lilia back then was “rough” and I am being nice calling him that
Back then, Lilia was surrounded by loss and a lot of Faes getting everything they ever owned ripped away from them
Of course this impacts him (I mean he is strolling through battlefield after battlefield so of course it does)
Lilia wasn't always such a devoted follower
Yes, he did believe in the Overseer, aka you, but only after witnessing the brutality that came with him being a general did he turn into a follower with such drastic views
After all, if there was no higher meaning to all this violence, to all this loss and despair, what was even the point of it all?
You became his moral, mental and also a bit of a physical crutch for him
Whenever he felt like he was this close to just giving up, he thought about you and that this was part of your greater plan (totally not part of some valley church propaganda)
After witnessing that human hiding behind the Knight of Dawn in all his haughtiness and cruelty, he finally set out on his quest not only to make the humans leave his beloved home but also to make them into loyal believers of the Overseer
But sadly, everything was for nought and Lilia had to go into hiding
The only thing keeping him going was his believe in you having a greater plan
A few hundred years later and Lilia finally found out what that supposed plan of yours was
Laying in that cold, lonely crib was the child of his old, now deceased enemy
Taking the child, now called Silver, in he learned the joy of a family, the boy giving him more joy than anything ever before in his life
Finally, he had found peace. Of course he did. This was your plan all along, right? You must have ordered those three fairies to make his beloved son survive until now, right?
You were, after all, a kind deity. There was no way this was all just a war happening because of greed. Because if this truly was just events happening after events then...
Lilia never finished that thought
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The great ruler of the night fae, mighty and powerful sorceress who could fell an entire nation in one swoop if she wanted to was despite her cruel and aloof outside appearance a pretty devoted follower since the beginning
Despite being a Fae, she was feared just like her unborn son due to her powers (and being more or less being on the same level as a nuclear bomb but hey, I doubt that anyone of us would stand next to one of those, right?)
So it is no surprise that she turned to something, someone, to feel less alone
Especially after her husband disappeared did she wish for some sort of sign that she was not alone
And oh boy, did religious propaganda from the high church take that loneliness away
When her beloved son, although in an egg, was born, she visited your altar daily, thanking you for her child being healthy
(This could also be the reason why Malleus is the way he is but I am just a writer and not some all-knowing God so idk, just a theory)
She definitely has "taken care" *cough*totallynotproblematicforarulertobeinfluencedbyreligion*cough* of Fae that were non-believers
How dare their sinful ways dirty your holy image?
See? Totally not problematic
At first she only tried to protect her subjects after the humans attacked and took over parts of her kingdom
But after a while she started to have another goal
What if she shared your splendor with those little useless invaders?
Humans were most definitely vile but you were able to unite so many different kinds of Fae in your name under the Draconia name
So why not also unite those humans in your name in a peace treaty?
Such a kind God you were! Allowing for peace in your name!
And, well, if violence and destruction was needed to make those beings understand and surrender, then that shall be what they get
Besides, she was only honoring her husbands wish to get closer to the humans so who was she to selfishly aim for another goal?
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The Knight of Dawn (long name, I know) did not always believe in you
Heck, the poor guy probably never heard of you until he fought the Fae
But if the humans from back then didn't really know about you, then how did he find out about and why did he start to see you as his God?
On this part, I would say, he and Lilia were eerily similair
Both were pushed into a war neither liked, so of course he was also in a very unstable situation which made him, like Lilia, search for something to hold on to
The three Fairies had mentioned before when he was still training to become as strong as he was now, mentioning a kind deity who accepted all, who loved unconditionally
Back then he only thought of you as one of the many deities that were prayed to back then
But once the war started and he saw your churches and cathedrals for the first time, his opinion slowly started to shift until he saw you as the highest being possible
I mean, all of us would if we lost all stability over night, having only destroyed buildings and a half-standing church in front of us
He hated the plundering of your sacred placed even before he became a believer, having the opinion that it was just a cultural difference between the two kinds
This led to him kneeling at the cracked altars of many of your churches, asking for forgiveness, hoping that you would understand that he didn't have another choice
What he would do to witness one of your sermons…
And when he was lonely enough, he imagined you watching down on him from up above
Just like a... a parent
You see where I am going with this?
So when he was facing the Queen he only hoped for your forgiveness, hoping that his loving family member would forgive his gravest sin, him killing a mother
And he found salvation, in letting that child and the retainer escape
Perhaps you could forgive him now
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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months ago
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NSFW ALPHABET
Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader
ask: hiii may i ask for a nsfw alphabet with pietro maximoff if you havent done that one yet? i really loved your fics with him hagwhahw i’ve been searching like crazy for pietro maximoff fanfics and there are only a few.. but anyways, have a nice day also hehe
~ we need more pietro content fr! i gotchu babes 🩵 ~
mature content warning
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A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)
He is such a sweetheart when it comes to aftercare! He wants to make sure he's taking care of his girl! Making sure you're cared for and feeling safe with him, which means running a bath, peppering kisses all over your sore skin, braiding/combing your hair, cleaning you up and cuddling with you until you're asleep.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Pietro loves his legs. This isn't necessarily sexual but more because he runs with his legs and he likes his super speed. He also likes his hands because of what he can do with them 😄 For you? He loves every inch of you but he does have a soft spot for your thighs. God, he loves feeling your thighs under his hands, or having them wrapped around his waist/head/wherever he can have them!
(on another note in my mind he's a boob guy 😏 loves boobs. Any boobs, no matter the size and shape he's all over them)
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Pietro likes when he can come inside you because it makes him feel like he owns you—he has a possessive streak. He also loves fingering you because that means he can lick your come from his fingers and taste you on his tongue. He's feral for the way you taste.
D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)
He often masturbate to selfies/pictures you send of yourself—dirty ones or normal ones it doesn't matter—he needs you and he'll masturbate to your picture alone. Yes, he'll feel a little ashamed but he'll do it anyways because he's extra horny.
E = Experience (how experienced are they?)
Super experienced. Man whore. Had fun when he was single, who can blame him? He's sexy af 😩He's done almost everything under the sun and if he hasn't? He's willing to try. (Obviously he's a loyal guy now that he's with you, but as I said…man whore).
F = Favorite position (👀)
Lives for a riding but doesn't like reverse cowgirl because he loves to see you and see your tits bounce as you do. Makes his feral! His second favorite would be good old missionary because you can't go wrong with a good classic!
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Pietro likes jokes, he likes having fun. He's goofy so he'll joke around during sex but if you like it serious, he'll only be serious. If you like the laughs and giggles, he'll indulge you without question. He just wants you to be happy!
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I feel like he's all natural lol…he's is good with hygiene though! No worries there! And I mean I think his silver hair is dyed so it's assuming his pubic hair isn't silver lmao! I feel like he'd somehow dye it for fun (idk how good that is for the goods though or if that burns)
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He can be very romantic but he prefers being a little more rough with you during sex. He isn't like bdsm rough but he likes letting go and using you. However, as said, his aftercare is absolutely banger and he's usually romantic then.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
As mentioned he masturbates to pictures of you and overall he's just super horny. Constantly horny. He has a high sex drive so he masturbates a lot. He likes masturbating with you (so mutual masturbation or you giving him a handjob). He likes masturbating in the evening, it helps him fall asleep.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Pietro has a breeding kink 100%! Like okay, he also has an edging kink (if that's even a thing). He'll go slow with the thrusts. Slow and deep, making you feel it all, but not get quite enough to achieve anything more than becoming cock dumb.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
He likes using the couch—any position on the couch lmao. Or he likes a bed, he's a classic at heart. He doesn't like car sex because he doesn't have any space, he gets antsy and he feels trapped.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Anything you do. Especially if it's with your mouth. If you lick your lips or bite your lips. Even simply show off some skin turns him on. Any touch when he's horny sets him on fire. He's surprisingly easy to rile up.
N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
He wouldn't be into sharing. Like if you wanted a threesome it would take MONTHS and MONTHS of convincing him to let another man or woman be around you like that. He's a possessive guy and he loves you, he wants you all to himself! Plus, being a twin I bet he's kinda sick of sharing lol
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Obviously he likes when you give him head, I mean what man doesn't? But he likes eating you out more. He likes when you tremble and the sounds you make. And oh he's soo good at it. Sometimes when you guys have "sex", it's only foreplay because he exhausts you just from his mouth alone.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Pietro is fast, duh. He's fast but he's also controlled and he can go slow when he wants. He doesn't use his super speed obviously because that would break you and hurt you, but I like to think he can vibrate his cock like a vibrator lmaoooo (😩).
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Quickies are fun for him. He likes to have them when you're both busy. His favorite place for a quickie is a bathroom (a clean one lol, only the best for his girl).
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He def experiments and if you want to experiment, he definitely agrees and hears you out! While he doesn't like sharing, he likes the risk of having sex somewhere semi-public! He lives for the thrill and he doesn't mind if someone sees because he knows he can keep you safe so really, let the other assholes watch 😌
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He has good stamina because of his powers! He can go for hours and hours but once he comes, he's done. Now, his stamina for foreplay is unmatched. He will never get tired of making his girl feel good!
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Pietro owns no toys for himself, but he uses your vibrator on you when you ask him. He doesn't feel emasculated, he knows it only enhances the pleasure he gives you.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
HUGE TEASE! Like he's constantly teasing you and making dirty jokes to turn you on! He likes edging you and especially overstimulating you because he can usually last longer than you. Whispers dirty things in your ear all the time and then teases you under the table at dinner (if yk yk)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Usually, he's quieter than most. He controls his breathing for running so he can do it very well during sex. However, you like the noises he makes so he is conscious of them and he has this whimper you LOVE. It's soft and yet throaty, basically it's perfect like he is. Sometimes, when he's going particularly hard, he'll grunt in your ear but that's mostly for show, not that you mind.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon)
Pietro calls you pet names in Sokovian when he's having sex. Hell, he'll use more Sokovian than usual (he usually uses English pet names like dove, sweet girl, my heart), but because his mind is so fuzzy and lust filled he just automatically transfers to his native language. It's hot.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
He's not small, but I don't think he's super big either. Like it never hurts! I'd give him a solid 7 and he's def a shower.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
As high as possible. Constantly horny.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
As soon as aftercare is performed and you're all good, he's gone and sleeping like a baby. He spoons you (or you spoon him) and he sleeps all night, occasionally kissing your neck in his sleep.
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bsdawgz · 4 months ago
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「 ✦ Perverted ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Osamu Dazai
... NOW PLAYING ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| Perverted by Elita ...
a/n: it has been so long i'm sorry for disappearing </3 I LOVE YOU ALL THANK U FOR CONTINUING TO SUPPORT ME, new and old followers ILY. SPECIAL THX TO @amo-bsd, @little-miss-chaoss, @starrs20 THEY R THE BEST. also idk if this fic is ur thing cuz its dark content so u dont have to read it but i tagged y'all bc everyone who comes across this post SHOULD FOLLOW U BC UR THE BEST
content: f! pm! reader. MDNI! dark content + nasty! knifeplay. knifeplay is consensual, BUT keep in mind that unequal power dynamics are still at play because dazai is an executive and f!reader is a subordinate. (aka if this were real life this is not consensual)
++ blowjob (incl. facefucking). degradation and name-calling ("slut"), praise and pet names (i actually used bella LOL). dazai is possessive. like he actually treats you like a possession KEEP THAT IN MIND B4 READING
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Dazai has always been calculating and cruel. Perhaps it was one of the things that drew you to him the most, as twisted as it were, knowing that these bloodied hands could sometimes hold you so tenderly, and that you of all people were the one he chose to see him naked at the end of the night. You took some sort of pride in it, in the fact Port Mafia's youngest executive had chosen you as his personal plaything, out of all the women that could easily fall into his arms.
His room is dark, ceilings tall, his face shrouded by velvet curtains that cast a shadow over you like a gaping mouth. His desk is stacked with papers, neatly organized in a pile, but there are painkillers and used-up bandages sprawled across the floor beneath it. Dazai is in the corner, staring down disdainfully at the broken city that is Yokohama. He doesn't greet you when you enter. Rather, he looks down at you condescendingly. "You were reckless today. You're lucky Akutagawa was there to save you, or you would have been killed."
"I'm sorry," is all you can say. As his subordinate and, for lack of a better term, his lover, you never know which Dazai you're about to face. Your apology is well-received, a grin forming on his lips as you bow your head. You're always so quick to submit to him. He's used to it, being an executive and all, but it feels especially good coming from you.
"Yeah?" His voice is a low hum now, seductive and rogue. He comes closer, then you feel his thumb graze your chin, then he forces you to gaze into the empty void of his dark eyes. You stare, captured by the intense nothingness behind them that threatens to swallow you whole, gulping as you realize that in those moments of enchantment, those slender fingers of his have crawled along the sides of your neck. He leans in, and you can feel his lips tracing along your collarbone. "How are you gonna make it up to me?"
Your knees are weak; you're always falling right into his hands this way. He guides you to the dresser, hands on your hips, then presses his body against yours from behind, fingers toying with the hem of your blouse. "How about I kill you right here, myself?" you hear him whisper in your ear, breath warm against your skin. Then, you feel cold metal pressed against your neck. "Would you let me do that to you?"
You catch a glimpse of silver, gleaming with the reflection of the city lights as Dazai runs a blade along a vein.
Trusting a man like Dazai can be such a fatal flaw – ...
... but he must be using the dull edge for a reason... right?
"I would let you do anything to me," you reply. You hear him sigh, almost disappointed by your courteous response. He lets go of you immediately and scoffs, tucking the knife back into his pocket.
"You always know what to say," he mutters, as if irritated by your predictability – but you know that it means he's pleased. You’re loyal to him. You always have been.
Then, as if on cue, you turn to face him, getting on your knees in front of him.
"Oh," he muses, entertained. "So, you're gonna use your pretty mouth to make it up to me instead?"
– but of course.
You're eager to please him, hands fumbling for the zipper of his slacks. He grins at how desperate you seem to touch him, petting your head as you bury your face into his hardness. You trace him through his boxers, marvel at the way it grows with your touch. This is the way you command him – the way you bring to his knees while you're on yours. You feel him shudder as your lips caress him, feel wetness seep through his boxers against your cheek as you mold against him.
In this moment, the most dangerous man in Yokohama is yours and yours alone.
"Get on with it," he mumbles lazily, stroking your cheek gently. You're staring up at him admiringly, watching the way his breath catches in his throat as you tease him.
He's gorgeous when he’s weak for you, gazing back down at you with half-lidded eyes, waiting on you to make him feel something. He's the desperate one now, you think to yourself. It’s as if he’s begging,
'Give it to me.'
You'll give it to him – you'll give it to him over and over.
Maybe it's perverted, but it makes you feel good inside, knowing you're needed by him like this.
So, you strip him slowly, kissing along his firm abdomen and thighs as you peel the boxers down his legs. He's impatient, hands trembling as you reach for him and run your fingers slowly along his length. His reactions are all the praise you need – he sighs softly into your touch when you finally wet the tip with your tongue, then you feel him fade into you. You taste the salt that drips so bitterly on your lips, swirl the precum in your mouth and let it melt against your saliva. "You're good at that," he whispers, and you feel yourself grow wet between the legs at his words.
Then, you take him. Slowly, at first – stroking him with your pretty hands while you lick the vein that runs along the underside, then slide him down your throat. You feel his grip tighten on your hair, then hear him make a stifled sound. When you look up, he's staring down at you in amazement, lips parted so slightly as you do your best not to choke on him... If only he looked at you like this all the time, you can't help but think to yourself shamefully.
It's too cruel to continue these sort of thoughts, so you force yourself to take him deeper... You shove him into your mouth until your vision blurs, until you gag on him, until saliva dribbles down your chin. He matches your pace, burying himself into your throat until you choke on his length, until you're tearing up and your vision is blurred. Then, you hear him laugh condescendingly. "This why you were so reckless today?" he asks you roughly, eyes darkening as he peers down at you. His fingers ravage your hair, his nails digging into your scalp as he pushes your head down. "You like it just like this, don't you?"
And maybe he’s right – he has you throwing your life away in this wretched mafia… and for what? He has you following him around like a dog… and to what end?
When you're forced to look up at him with your mouth stuffed full of him, it's almost as if there's no trace of a humanity left in him. There’s nothing in those wild eyes, scornful and resenting. There's some twisted grin on his face, something sadistic and perverse you've only seen a few times before, in the moments before he’s stolen someone’s life. "You act so fucking innocent, but look at you taking me like a damn slut. Do you do this for the others? Tell me..."
You can hardly breathe now, cheeks swollen and red, jaw aching, but you know he expects a response, so you shake your head frantically. No, of course not, you'd never give it to anyone else but him. Never, ever – but he doesn't relent, looking down at you demeaningly with that same sick look on his face. "Yeah? I've seen the way you look at Chūya. You wanna fuck him too, don't you?"
This time, when you open your eyes, the knife is right against your throat – the sharp edge almost tracing along your skin. Would you bleed for this man? Would you die for this man? Wouldn’t he like to know…
You shake your head as if to say, 'Only you... only ever you.' Then, you claw at his legs, pushing him away to tell him enough...
– and he withdraws immediately, shoving you off of him and leaving you coughing and gasping for air on the cold, wooden floor. "I would have killed you if you said yes, you know," he says, point blank. "You're mine alone."
This time, you're not quite sure if he means what he says – or what he means as laughs mirthlessly as you pull yourself together. But in a playful tone, he adds, "But of course, I knew from the start that you'd say no."
Then, you feel it –
His embrace. Gentle. Endearing. Fond.
His soft, tangled bangs fall against your shoulder as he pulls you into his chest.
It’s like he’s become a different person again.
“Come here, my precious Bella," you hear him murmur into your shoulder, tracing a delicate finger along your back as he presses his lips to your spine, and your heart stills.
"Let me draw you a bath."
For a man so cold, his body feels surprisingly warm.
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author ps: ANY BDSM should have CLEAR communicated boundaries (established beforehand) and during AND include AFTERCARE. the aftercare was not written (it would be the bath, basically). if you are new to BDSM or considering BSDM please be INFORMED and do not use fanfic and dark content as a basis for it
© BSDAWGZ Don’t steal or plaigarize cos that’s mean… and if you enjoyed the fic, please reblog! ദ്ദി(。•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!
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thyras · 2 months ago
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→ the bearer of fruits
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PAIRING → mairon | halbrand | annatar (sauron) x f!elf!reader
WORD COUNT → 8.9k words
WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - dark!reader, mentions of abuse (sauron kind of manhandles reader and threatens her, while she throws stuff at him), mentions of trauma, some fluff (if that can even be associated with him), manipulation, dark deeds, unprotected p in v, implied smut, handjob, pregnancy
SUMMARY → after your husband’s departure of Eregion, you are left hollowed and sorrowed. you find solace in your work and planting your seeds until an unexpected visitor shows up at the gates of Eregion.
AUTHORS NOTE → wow this took ages to finish, sorry about that. i've been so busy with school and mom life that i just was so drained of inspiration for this part. i wanted to touch more on reader and his background as it really defines how their relationship works. they are very hot and cold with each other, she may be really dark at times, even darker than him at times, but she is good at hiding it and even can suppress it. idk i hope you guys enjoy as well be reviving up in the next few parts. @sansaorgana you asked me to tag you, so here you are my friend ❤️
FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART
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The fire crackled against its fuel as you flipped through a volume from the First Age. You had dove into anything that could take your mind off the sorrow you felt with his departure again. This time, you thought of starting to sow some seeds for your husband’s plan. For weeks, you had been coming after all the smiths had gone home, and you would be left in silence, hoping that one person would see you.
Which had not happened once.
Your hand fanned across the page. The silver band on your finger caught the light and shined its beautiful blue hue in the moonlight. A smile crept up on your face as you twisted it around your finger. The bluish inscription appeared in Sarati lettering, the ancient written form of your kin.
You rarely spoke Quenya anymore, but the inscription on the ring was something you always remembered.
Fairest of maidens, in the moonlight, you shall find me, for we are never truly parted.
You had been there in that elven forge of old when he crafted the ring. When you bound yourselves in mind, body, and soul. The Beauty of the Woodland was no more, for she had become his Wicked Beauty.
You snorted softly at the name. The Beauty of the Woodland. That’s all you had been to your kin, a goddess crafted by the Valar and sent to honor your family with your fair beauty. Your life before your husband had been nothing but pure subjection to fill that role and heal your kind.
For you were perceived to be an emissary of Valar in fair form.
But that was hardly true; you were just an elf gifted with refined beauty, which a woman of no consequence birthed. No fair powers filled you other than the gift to heal.
As you had done with him in those days.
The morning was bright, reflecting on the golden leaves down onto your glittering hair. You pushed some behind your ear as you bent down to gather some fungi to take back with you. You had ventured alone early in the morning, not a wise thing, but with years on you and a keen sense for danger, you always carried a blade concealed in your sleeve.
You started humming a sweet song while moving through the woods, peeling off fungi and picking medicinal weeds you could not grow. Your humming grew into a lovely, silvery song.
You hesitated a moment, though, when you reached for a mushroom nestled in a small patch by a tree. A certain iciness came over the forest, the gloominess of a rain cloud crawling over the once bright forest. You stood up and swallowed hard as the eeriness fell even more over the forest.
The hairs on the back of your neck rose suddenly as if you turned and looked behind you. Nothing. Your pulse raced. Your hand reached under the sleeve of your robe for the blade. Your eyes closed as you took a few shallowed breaths before a shadowy breath crossed your ears. Its disembodied voice caused you to shiver. You took a few breaths before opening your eyes and throwing the blade at a tree behind you.
You turned and saw nothing but the shining blade in the tree. As the sun was shining once again and the iciness over the forest lifted, you walked over and pulled your blade out before saying some Quenya words to the tree in sorrow for the damage.
You turned and went back to pick the mushrooms quickly. The darkness was gone, but you still felt its lingering touch on the shell of your ear—the caress almost as seductive as the taste of the finest wine or fruit. You licked your lips as a dark smile rose on your lips.
The darkness had touched you as a little girl; watching your father turn mad at your mother’s lovers, killing her in front of you, had changed you before you even were a teen. In later years, you plotted to kill the man for killing your mother.
Each day, you waited.
And watched.
Until you struck one night, holding a pillow over his face as you plunged his dagger into his heart. The pillow muffled his screams. You leaned in and spoke;
“For the Valar have forsaken you, Commander, and I am their justice.” You paused and took the pillow off so he could look into his daughter’s dark eyes. “See my face, and know it is I who have ended you.” The shocked look crossed his eyes before the light of the Valar left him.
You had been so dramatic in the following days, playing the part of a grief-stricken daughter. Only to hold back the triumph and satisfaction of ridding this world of the man who abused you and your mother enough to stray.
You returned to the road that would take you to your village. It would not take long to get back into the confines of those walls.
Your cage.
Your shackle.
It only brought more blackness to your heart lingering there. But you could hardly protect yourself on a long journey to find another set of kin. Your feet stopped as you felt a whisper of a breeze and turned to see a man walking, well limping, just ahead of you, hand covering his leg as the fabric of his pants was tainted with blood. His reddish hair glistened in the golden sun, much like a flame would as it would against its fuel. The strands were long and braided on the sides.
He stumbled, and you raced to grab his frame before he hit the ground. The weight of him caused you to collapse onto the dirt road. You looked down to see he was an elf, from what kin you did not know. His face was of the fairest beauty, someone to rival even your own. He smiled weakly.
“By the Valar,” he breathed hoarsely. “Have I reached Valinor?” You shook your head and told him your name and that you were a healer. He repeats your name back as if it was the sweetest of nectars. His hand reached up to touch your cheek, eyes fluttering as he swallowed hard.
You looked down at his leg and saw the deep puncture of something in his upper thigh. He had fashioned a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blooding, no doubt. His eyes looked up into yours, pleading almost.
"Boar," he breathed hoarsely again. You nod and smooth your hand across his clammy cheek in a comforting gesture.
"I'll get you well again; it's the least I can do." The man nodded, and you smiled before trying to help him get up. He tried greatly not to put all his weight on you as you walked, but it would only cause him even more great pain. So when you reached the outskirts of your village, you signaled for a couple of men to help you get him to your home.
Once the stranger was laid on the bed, you thanked the other men and began mending his wound. Throughout that time, you could not help but feel the warmth of his eyes on you, watching as you cleaned and worked tirelessly in your craft.
"You are so beautiful," he said through labored breaths, "like a star from the heavens." Your face warmed, and you finished bandaging his leg carefully. He reached up his shaky hand to push some of your hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine and caused you to look over at him. You knew he was probably delirious from the blood loss and infection. He would not remember a thing when he woke up, but you prayed he would.
"Get some rest; I'll be here when you wake." You smiled, took his hand, and gave it a light kiss of reassurance. A smile touched his battered lips before his eyes closed. You laid his arm across his chest and rose out of your chair to start the clean-up.
Hours later, when he awoke again, you sat a bowl of stew next to him on the small table and a glass of wine. He sat up, took the bowl, and began eating eagerly as you moved back to the small kitchen.
"Thank you," he said, inclining his head to you.
"You're welcome," you paused. "You should be well enough to travel by morrow's eve; your kin must be worried about you." Something in his eyes changed as he lowered the bowl to his lap. His eyes turned dark like yours had when you murdered your father. A touch of your darkness rose as his did.
"I have no kin," he said softly, his eyes still staring at the bowl in his hands. You nodded before turning back to the worktop, where you continued to mash your herbs.
Silence grew over you both until he spoke again moments later. "They perished in the war." You nod. Many of your kin had as well, but again, it was not even sorrowful to you. These people had stood by and let their commander abuse you and your mother.
"I'm sorry," you said with fake sorrowfulness. “To lose one's kin is a tragedy that most of us do not heal from.
"You speak as if you know of this," he said, reaching to grab the glass. You nodded in an ever-convincing gesture toward his question. If it was not for the darkness of the hour, you swore you saw a nebulous smile touch his lips.
"My father died in the war; his company was ambushed, and before the rest of the force could reach them, they all but perished." You lied while staring at him in those dark eyes as he watched you. Your secret still hidden.
"I'm sorry," he breathed, inclining his head toward you. But before he could continue, you spoke again.
"Don't be; he was an arrogant, abusive man." You flashed him a dark smile. He could not help but chuckle. "I was more sorrowful for the men under his leadership, and I thanked the Valar for freeing me of his abuse." You looked down at your stone, knowing you had already told him too much of your despise of this place and its memories. But it felt good to touch the darkness again, that part of you that you forced into submission to keep your facade of the virtuous, sweet, elven healer.
You heard him stand up and move over to you. His fingers cupped your chin and brought your face to meet his gaze in the dim light of the candles. His eyes were dark as night and full of desire, and you gave him an equally dark smile.
His grip tightened on your chin, and you let a sharp breath fall out as you closed your eyes. His hot breath crossed your face and sent shivers down your spine. Before his lips could meet yours, you pushed on his chest. Your hand was placed against his fluttering heart as his gaze watched you, waiting for you to make the next move.
"I hardly know you,” You said, giving him a playful look. “And it would look less than virtuous for you to be seen touching me." You continued, fingers gripped onto his shirt as you raised your brow to taunt him more. The darkness in his eyes seemed to come alight with an animalistic presence. A growl rumbled through his chest as you ran your fingers down his chest. “Now, you would not want to take a fair maiden’s virtue?” you said with a fake pout. The mischief in your gaze made a nebulous smile touch his face again. It sent your pulse racing as every inch of you heated up.
“Temptress,” he breathed. Releasing your chin and running his warm fingers down your neck. “For you have deceived an even greater deceiver.” In an instant, you had your fingers wrapped around his throat and backed up against the wall. A blade hovered above your fingers, cool Valinor silver pressed against his jaw. You felt the tension in his neck as he swallowed and lifted his chin to give you better access to the skin, his eyes closing as you leaned in slowly.
“You think you have deceived me?” You said, watching his eyes flicker open when a laugh of disbelief left your lips. “I knew you were watching me. The second I walked into those woods. I played the fair innocent maid, oh so sweet.” You tightened your grip as you leaned in to run your tongue against the skin of his jaw. His muscles tensed under your grasp again, your teeth grazing his chin. “I bet the singing got you real hard.” You tempted, his eyes closing again as his nostrils flared. “Hard enough to do my bidding and be rewarded with a taste?” Your lips ghosted over his. His hands kept perfectly still next to him, fists clenching as he struggled to stay calm against your grasp.
“Little one, you have no idea who you are bargaining with,” he growled.
“I have an idea,” You run the blade just underneath his jawline. A trickle of black blood fell to no surprise to you. You leaned in and lapped the sweet nectar, coating your lips as you took in some of his essence. It tasted godly, giving you a taste of his malice and power. You craved more and wished to allow this being to cover you in it so you could know what true power felt like, not the innocent power of one's flesh but the over someone's mind and soul—morphing them into what you wanted. “So what shall I call you, my lord? Or do you want me to scream out your true name as you have your way with this fair maiden?”
He reached up and pushed more of your hair out of your face. The touch was so gentle for a man who had murdered so many of your kin. You should have been scared of him, terrified even. But you knew you were just as black-hearted as he was, which probably drew him to you.
You were an expert manipulator and temptress.
A true dark widow leading any unsuspecting man to her web of deception. This time, though, you had caught the Great Deceiver in your web; he was yours now. Your two dark souls were finally connected, yearning for release and pleasure.
"Mairon,"
The clinging of a glass brought you out of your musings before looking over at the source of the sound. Celebrimbor strode up the staircase with a glass of wine for the both of you and a pile of parchment between his left arm. "May I join you?" he asked as a smile touched his lips.
You nodded and motioned to the chair. Finally, your plan bore fruit. He set a glass down in front of you. You reached and brought it to your lips, drinking the liquid as he moved to lay his papers out on the table across from you. Designs, no doubt, for more rings. You turned back to your reading, delicate fingers turning the large page as you read the old words.
"I see you have taken an interest in First Age magics." You look up at him as he took a drink. "It is a delightful read, even for someone who was there."
"I never experienced those magics, only the ones to destroy." You said truthfully, but you hid your dark smile at the mention of the shadowy being who had taught you many of those dark things.
“I forget myself. You lost all your kin to him.” You gave him a sorrowful look before turning back to reading. Celebrimbor raised a brow at you as your left hand moved across the page. His gaze fell when the moonlight from the window caught your ring, causing the inscription to reappear. He moved to pick up your hand as a missing piece of his puzzle had probably been solved, but before you registered what he was doing, he had the ring of your finger in haste.
Your body weakened with age, and signs started to appear on your once beautiful, serene face, showing how your choice to stay in Middle-Earth had affected you. The air in your lungs grew cold, and your mind became lonely as you could no longer feel his power and dark thread against you—the life force to your beauty and enhanced healing abilities.
Celebrimbor watched you shift and change, then glanced down at the ring. Even more surprise crossed his face as he stood and walked quickly to the window, hoping to see how it worked. But the inscription all but faded as it was not connected to your essence anymore. Your husband's blood had given you vibrant beauty for the rest of your days, but only if his gift was placed upon your finger.
The bond you shared and promised to keep had been laid into that ring, blood mixed with blood. His vow was recited and dropped into the molten Valinor silver ore as you recited yours. He forged it under the starry, moonlit night in love and promise for more. Thus, it created the final piece of your bond, gave you access to some of his abilities, and gave the beautiful silver its blue hue.
The Valar were displeased with his creation and choice to massacre your people, citing that if he genuinely were remorseful for his deeds, he would return to Valinor to pay for his crimes. At the same time, you paid for yours in loneliness and longing for the Undying Lands that you would never meet.
You both turned your backs and knew no road to redemption did not leave you separated from one another. So you both agreed to cleanse and heal this world in your image so that you may sit upon your thrones and finally have peace from the looming threat of the Valar’s wrath.
You were sure he had just felt the parting, and soon, his shadowy form would be upon you—or worse.
"How–ho–" he stuttered out as he tried to get the blue hue to show again. Your frail body stood and snatched the thin silver ring from his hand before slipping it back on, and you shifted back into your youthful, beautiful form again.
The air in your lungs returned, and you felt a tear fall from your eye. The comfort of his mind and soul returning, the pain of silence and separation becoming too much. You gave the little thread a soft tug to tell him it was alright and just part of your plan. "Teach me," His eyes were blown wide almost as he moved over to the table quickly almost knocking the wine glasses off. "Tell me everything or show me how you did it,"
"I did not do anything, Lord Celebrimbor," You said, covering your hand so he would not have another chance to snatch the ring off your hand. "It was a gift from my late husband to torture me," you said with slight anger; though this was about to be a clever story, your beloved was probably about to be very disappointed in you slandering his name.
Celebrimbor looked at you, confused. "His dying wish was to see me live an immortal life tied to this." You hold up the ring to him. "For being unfaithful to him. It is my shackle, my lord, and I doubt you wish to craft something as such." You look back down at your book, hiding the pain in your face as you tell such lies about your husband, but this was needed to keep Celebrimbor going. Keep him thinking about the other rings, sowing your husband’s dark web in even his absence.
"But you wear it proudly? And your reaction earlier tells me he means more to you." You cursed at your earlier slip in disguise, but no one had ever tried to take it off your finger. So it caught you off guard, and your mask had faded. You had not expected him to do that.
"I wear it because my immortality depends on it; my gift to heal depends on it. I wear it so I can live." You finally look up at him, and your eyes gaze into his. "Wouldn't you do the same, my lord?"
"But you have used your ring for good," You held back the snort at his comment. "Healed Eregion for centuries and been an utmost loyal friend to my family." All for your husband's benefit, he had an in and a watchful eye here. He had what he wanted, and you had a warm place to sleep while you waited for him.
"You flatter me, my lord," Your eyes turned back to the page as he touched your shoulder.
"I am sorry, my friend; I did not mean for my impoliteness. Forgive me." You placed a hand over his and smiled softly up at him, your charming, deceitful self on full display.
"It is quite alright." He released you before going back to his chair. He picked up a quill and began scratching out notes. You returned to your reading until a cool breeze entered the room from the window, causing your senses to heighten as you felt the shadows come to life. A small smile touched your lips, knowing he was about to play one of his little shadowy games. His ghostly hand wrapped around your throat, fingers trailing against your soft skin.
"Don't worry, there is an illusion over you," his voice said against your ear. "You will appear to be reading."
"And what do I owe the pleasure, husband?" You felt the pain on his form at how you did not hide your irritation, or it was coming from him for another reason. He was not allowing you to see where he was for whatever reason.
“Can a husband not check in on his wife?” You swatted his shadowy hand from touching you. The Black Speech curse that floated across sent a nebulous smile, touching your lips, knowing he was not in the mood to play games. But neither were you.
His hand moved back to your throat, hand tighter as his lips went to your ear. “You would do right to remember who—“
“I tire of these excuses, husband.” You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself in complete control. “I also tire of these lies, " he growled.
“You are such a burdensome woman,” he said as his fingers grabbed your hair, yanking it back. You could see the dark embers of his eyes encased by his shadowy form. “Always speaking of things she knows nothing of.”
“But that’s why you love me,” You reach up to touch his shadowy face. “Without me, your immortality would have been oh so tiresome.” you teased. Your finger ran across where his cheekbone would have been. “But you’re right; I am only some innocent maiden who knows nothing of the plan she helped mold.” Another growl went through his shadowy lips, fingers tugging even more on your hair, pulling a whimper from your lips.
“We both know you are far from innocent, little one.” You had to laugh at that. “For you deceived the Great Deceiver at his own game,” you hum as his hand ran down your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down to your ripened core. You grabbed his wrist and held it up.
“It would do you good to remember that,” you growled. “It would also mind you well to tell me where you are.”
"Sowing seeds,” you rolled your eyes at his even more cryptic answer. "Just as you are, my little temptress," His shadowy lips wrapped around your ear. "Though I warn you if he touches you or your ring again, I will take pleasure in killing him right now.” You whimpered at the thought and bit down on your bottom lip as his hand met your skirt again.
“You spoil me, husband,” his dark chuckle filled your ear. “Do not forget that I can only stall for so long," you bit back at him. “He will keep hammering me about the ring,” he hummed in answer to your statement before the brushes of his tongue ran across the shell of your ear. Your walls and stomach fluttered in anticipation of your reunion once again. He was playing dirty, but whenever did he not?
"I'm aware," he whispered before nipping at your ear. A whimper left your lips in response. Through this whole interaction, you had not as much as glanced at Celebrimbor through the illusion until now.
He was working away, taking a sip of his wine occasionally. Utterly undisturbed by you and your husband’s interaction. “Only if he saw you right now,” your husband breathed against your shoulder. “In all your dark glory, wanton with desire for the very man they fear. Oh, the scandal it should cause.” He kissed your shoulder lightly before moving up your neck and back to your ear. “That innocent elven maiden disguise you have carefully constructed, completely broken against my cock.”
His lips nipped at the sensitive tip while his hand ran back to your stomach, cupping it softly.
"I will it," he breathed.
And like a gust of wind, he was gone. Illusion falling.
The lingering sadness mixed with his words caused another set of tears to fall onto your face.
He willed it.
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Sunrises turned into sunsets, and each day felt like an eternity. Since his appearance that night, you had grown longingly for him even more, knowing he was still alive and well, to some extent. 
But you had waited centuries with even less uncertainty. It was always a game of patience.
Though you had grown tired of it now.
You tried your best to distract yourself with the mundane tasks of being a healer, such as setting broken bones and healing minor cuts. Sure, your assistants could do such things, but it helped busy your mind and distract you from the aching in your heart as you longed for his touch and his breath on your ear. 
It drove you mad when he tortured you in the night, shadows bringing you almost to the brink, only to leave you hanging like he wanted to build up the tension of your separation. You had many a thought to take your ring off so you could stop the torture, but you knew that was not the brightest idea. He would only make it worse for you after he arrived.
You bared it, though.
As you awoke this morning, something in the air told you today would be different. The air was crisper and tasted like the electricity of a storm rolling in. A smile touched your lips as you felt the lingering touch of his caress on your lips. You brought your thumb to meet your bottom lip as he had the night before, tracing across it in sweet memory. Your heart filled with what little warmth you had left in it, only reserved for the dark shadow that filled your dreams and drove you mad with his ghostly touches.
You threw the blankets off your body and got out of bed, feet walking across the stone floor toward your balcony doors, opening them to see the bright morning light into your chambers. Back when you had a semblance of pureness in your heart, you would have probably enjoyed this sight, the singing of the birds flying across the river to the sounds of the city waking up. 
But that had long left you.
You found solace in the dark, stormy days and long, cold winter nights. Something about them made you feel like he was there with you after settling into Eregion. The only warmth you sought was his embrace and the dark aura that always seemed to follow him, encasing you and bringing out the life in you. Never light, just life.
He completed you in so many ways, just as you completed him.
Your arms leaned against the railing as you took in a familiar scent, one you had not smelled in many centuries—blue daises. They used to grow around that first city you and your beloved made your home in. The name had long since been forgotten through the ages. But you could always remember that smell.
When you both tried to seek peace and redemption for your dark souls, you settled down into a slower way of life. One where you tried to suppress the darkness and power-hungry souls that lived in you both, hoping it would be enough, wishing that your deeds to help the people would wash your slates clean. When there was still a tiny part of you both that was still pure of heart.
As always, you had taken on a life as a healer, and your husband did what he did best.
Created.
He created beautiful things for you at that time—things you still had tucked away in the soft confines of your jewelry box, even if they did burn when they touched your cold, dark being now. But nothing surpassed the ring you wore on your finger even though it was both your undoing.
His fingers pushed your loose strands behind your ear as you sat on one of the many flower-covered hills surrounding the city that you both had made home. Your cheeks warmed against his gaze. It was not uncommon for you both to find solace away from the city limits, as you both kept to yourselves in hopes that your dark souls would find the space to heal.
“Tell me about your day,” you asked; a smile touched his lips as he looked down at your hand, reaching to take his. “I know he has you busy, as you are so gifted.” Your husband nodded and he began to tell you about his day. You hung on his every word and gesture, getting glimpses of what he would have probably been like before his corruption. The brightness in his eyes, playful and gentle touches that he would give you at times.
You had noticed that darkness falling away in his eyes the more he did good. 
The more he healed that dark part of him.
“I do have something for you,” he said, bringing you out of your musings. You raised your brow in suspicion. He moved to cup your chin, pulling your face to meet his briefly as his pillowy lips moved against yours. A giggle escaped your lips as he broke away and laid his forehead on yours. “I promised you that you would never want for anything; if you asked, it would be yours no matter the cost.” Your fingers moved to cup his face and nod.
“I remember,” He released you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful piece of jewelry. Blue stones hung in a setting that looked reminiscent of the blue daisies that surrounded you and grew in front of your home, that you had tended so carefully to over the years. The stones shined in the sun's light and pulled you in more. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
“Crafted for my beautiful wife,” you turned and lifted your hair so he could lay the necklace on you and clasp it closed. “Forged with silver from Valinor and blue gems of the mountain. All made for the beautiful woman meant to wear it.” He leaned in and kissed your neck as your fingers touched the stones, his fingers skating across your stomach and caressing the white silken fabric you wore. 
“It’s beautiful,” you breathed as his lips lapped at the skin of your neck and down to your shoulder. “Thank you,” He hummed against your soft skin and continued to nip and suck on the skin he exposed when his fingers pushed down the silken fabric that rested on your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warmth of the sun. “I want to remind you that children come up here, my love.” He did not reply with words but with a grip on your breast before pulling you into him. His other hand traveled down to your core, only to make a symphony leave your lips as he fucked you into a withering mess as he always did.
You both lay bare against the warmth of the swaying grasses and flowers, intertwined still as your post-coitus bliss still hung against you both. He slid one of the blue daisies behind your ear as you kissed him passionately, fingers moving up to cup his face as he wrapped his arms around you.
Hearts and souls as one, once again. Full and warm.
“I have been thinking,” he started as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. The sun had become your greatest friend in your time here, you glowed again and seemed to fill with even more peace than he had ever seen in you.
“That is never a good thing with you,” he glowered down at you as you made the jab. “But go on,”
“I want to forge you a ring,” he breathed. “One that will bind us immortally.” You swallowed hard and moved to place your hand on his cheek, his head leaning into it as his lips kissed your wrist softly.
“We have been here before, love,” you started as he sighed. “Our hearts are still so black that even the slightest taste of power could set us off.” He continued to lay his head in your hand, only now his eyes were looking at yours.
“I know, and we have worked so hard in trying, but–” You cut him off with a passionate kiss. 
“No more talk of this,” you breathed against his lips. “We promised to leave it all behind. We have built our own little bits of peace here. They have not noticed or wish to not meddle in our progress.” They, being the Valar, which you both wished to please in this time, hoping they would renounce both your crimes and allow you to live in a world of bliss and longevity together.
Though you felt that lingering wish for power and control deep inside him still. The lingering tendrils of Morgoth’s weavings were still embedded in him, fighting with the pureness that was trying to show itself again. “I know you wish to lavish me something so great, but it would be a creation built in the dark. The magic used would not be of light as we wish but of darkness.”
“Divine,” he breathed, leaning into you again. “Let’s try,”
The hairs on the back of your neck stood as that once eerie feeling resurfaced. Telling you the peace here would be limited once again.
Limited it was.
The darkness crept back in. 
Slowly at first, only with signs that were noticed by you. His mind elsewhere while yours tried to keep on moving forward. Late nights in the sitting room doing whatever had been consuming his mind, to the irritation he had about his work.
On one occasion, you walked down to see him muttering to himself and scratching away at something. You moved over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder causing him to jump as he had been so consumed by his task. Your eyes swept the page to see designs for a ring. Your ring.
“I thought we were behind this?” You said, trying to take the parchment from him, causing him to rip it from your hands, tearing the parchment in half. His eyes darkened as a growl rumbled in his chest.
“And I thought you trusted me?” You looked at him, bewildered by the boiling temper in his eyes. For the last few centuries, nothing but a lovelorn look had been in his eyes. 
“I do, but love, this ring does not prove my love and loyalty to you.” you breathed, holding up your half of the parchment. “It will only drive you down a path I cannot follow.”
“Cannot follow?” He yelled. You flinched and looked down at your feet, hoping not to upset him more. He moved over to you and wrapped his fingers around your throat. “You follow me; remember, I took you from that place and gave you the revenge that you sought. All because I love you.” Tears kissed your cheeks as he tightened his grip, dark eyes blazing.
“I love you too, but they will take you from me if we do this.” You cried. “A separation greater than any we have experienced before. Do you want that for me?” He sighed, loosening his grip on you, and ran his finger across your cheek.
“Then let me just make you this one ring so even if we are ever parted, you will still feel like I am there with you.”
That one choice, one singular choice, had changed your relationship forever. You agreed and he forged the bonding ring and the darkness now awoke in you again after centuries of it being only a quiet hum.
He grew obsessed and consumed by the desire to create more rings to bring order to this world. You watched as he drove himself mad with this all-but-consuming task.
Power over the flesh.
He kept saying. In those times he did not seek your comfort, grew cold and distant towards you. Each time you would walk to that hill and the flowers would wilt and die against your touch until there was none left. A personification of what was to come.
You stopped going until the darkness in your heart returned. Things began crumbling in your lives; he lost his temper more, filled people’s minds with his sickness, and fell so much further into his obsession.
The day everything changed, you watched as he stood in the doorway and told you he was going back to Fordowaith and taking up his place in Morgoth’s wake so he could finish his work. He asked you to come with him, take your place by his side, and be his queen, but you told him no. 
You told him that there was no path you would not follow him. Told him that you would continue the plan, but you would do it your way. A way that kept you together.
You left him standing there.
And went on your way.
You stood back up and turned back towards your chambers, the sun becoming too much for you as your mind dove even deeper into the maddening memories. It was too much at times, and you tried not to let it affect you, but it did.
It broke you to part yourself from him, but you knew somewhere in your heart he would find you again. And he had.
As you got ready for the day, your hands skated across the fabric over your stomach. The skin had yet to stretch, but you knew they were nestled deeply in your womb.
The greatest creation he had ever made.
You had known for a bit as the dizzy spells overcame you and heightened smells that sometimes nauseated you. Life grew a little brighter in his absence, but not enough to quench the need to feel him there beside you, sharing in this joy.
After your musings had ended, you got right to work and attend to your duties. You made your rounds and finished just before lunch. You started back to your home when you felt the lingering pull of that dark thread crawling up your spine. You turn and see guards walking up the road with a man on a horse.
Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you saw him. The coppery strands glistened in the sun as he continued towards the gatehouse. You moved out of the way and watched as his green eyes met yours, a smile touching his lips as your face warmth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bowed your head in response before he passed, and you were only left with the lingering warmth of his shadowy thread wrapping around yours.
You rushed back home, knowing he would probably visit after speaking with Celebrimbor.
But nothing came of it.
And the night rolled in with not much as a word. The claps of thunder and flickers of lightning filled your darkened chambers. With the rain spilling moments later.
And you could not help but add tears to the sound of the pattering rain.
Heart aching at his rejection, yet again.
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Slap.
Your hand connected with his face, sending shivers down your spine as his elven head turned in response. Hand shooting to his face as you seethed with anger. Your pulse raced as he looked back up at you, eyes burning with a fire you had never seen in him before. You stare at him with your seething gaze. He was so stunned by your reaction that he moved up to you with a pace unmatched by any mortal being. His fingers gripped in your hair, yanking your head back. Those elven eyes seared into yours as he snarled at you.
You did not flinch or pull away from his grasp. The pain was only temporary, and the satisfaction of seeing the red mark coming up on the pale face caused a smile to touch your lips before you spoke.
"You dare not hurt me, husband," His hand gripped harder, pulling at your roots. You struggled not to whimper at the action like you always did. Your desire to not give into his temptation and prolong this argument until he was buried deep inside you and taking you like the feral animal he could be at times. Though this time, you knew he was deprived and wanting, so this would only make his restraint last so long before he gave in to his desire to control you.
"Do you want to test me?" He growled. "Because I have killed people for less."
"And I've killed people for the fun of it, my lord," your eyes burning now as his grip loosened just a tiny bit. A chuckle left his lips, knowing you were fully capable of wreaking havoc on entire cities and his heart. "You leave without a word and only appear in my chambers again when you see fit. In a whole new disguise, may I add." You spat out at him. "What web are sowing now?"
He released you and moved past you into your chambers, speaking words that were inaudible to you. "I am protecting you," he finally said.
"Protecting me?" you say in disbelief as you move over to your desk where your books and papers are. "That's all I get?"
"The less you know, the more believable you can be." You gripped a book. The anger in your bones at his lack of faith in you had you seething for an even grander fight. You wanted to slap, punch, or kill him for even believing you could not be believable at your own game. You had spent centuries here building relationships and trust that it was laughable for him even to consider himself of more importance than you at this moment.
Your hand gripped the thick leather volume harder before your anger boiled over, and you tossed it at him, but before it could hit him, he pushed it out of the way with his abilities.
"The more believable I can be?" You roared. You grabbed more and continued to throw it at him, anger surging even more. Your pent-up heartache at his mistrust poured into each onslaught. His eyes watched you as he moved out of the way of your blows, books, quills, and jewelry box hitting the wall behind him. The pain in your eyes did not affect his emotionless face in the slightest. "Are you doubting my skills?"
"Are you doubting my judgment?" He roared back at you. "Because as I see it, you questioning me tells me they have gotten into your head." You moved quickly and pushed him over onto your bed, using all the darkness in you to overpower him. He sat up, looking at you with disbelief at your action. You had never dared to touch him in anger in all the centuries. Sure, you had been close before, but this was different. He was questioning your loyalty to him. 
"How dare you question my loyalty," Tears touched your cheek. "How dare you threaten me and treat me like one of your little puppets when all I have ever been to you is faithful."
"That's not what you told Celebrimbor," he taunted, trying to sit up, but you moved to straddle his hips, holding him in place before wrapping your fingers around his neck.
"If you believe the words of a lie," You growled at him. "Then surely you've gone mad." You leaned down over him, the other hand pulling up the skirt of your nightgown over your hips while delicate fingers hungrily searched underneath his robes.
“This argument bor—” his train of thought stopped as your hand found what it was searching for. Your eyes watched as his closed against the grip of your hand. Fingers sliding up the length till your thumb traced against the tip, pulling a low hiss from his lips.
“This bores you?” You taunted, pumping lightly against the hardened flesh that filled your grip; his hips arched into your tugs as you rolled yours softly with your motions against him. You finally lean into his ear, motions growing. “If this bores you, then you have gone mad.” The tension lines in his neck tightened as you ran your teeth against them, nipping the pale skin as you went. You were in control for the moment, trying to get him to remember who he belonged to.
Your strokes grew in intensity as you could tell his peak was coming, his deprived state causing his body to fail him. “My sweet,” You breathed into his ear. “My oh so sweet Mairon, in all those centuries apart, you still believe you have control.”
His eyes opened, and he growled as he quickly had you on your back, his painfully hard cock at your entrance. His eyes burned into yours as he thrust into you quickly, pulling a moan from your lips as you closed your eyes. He leaned down to your ear. “Control is only an illusion, wife. I let you believe what you want, but you bow to me, no one else.” You whimpered against the sickly, sweet words. His thrusting grew in intensity as he took pleasure in the way you silenced the control over him, letting him take you as he saw fit.
You were a devious creature that was as slippery as a serpent. But he was only but a mirror of that. He never had to command your mind or inflict his magic on you. You surrendered so willingly, already kissed by the darkness ages before he crossed your path. Desire drove this relationship at times, a sickly sweet desire he had never fully understood until he felt those hips against his fingers, guiding you through the movements. It was maddening as the sounds of your climax repeated over and over throughout that tiny home in that long-forgotten elven city. The night you both had given your souls to each other.
After that, there was nothing he would do for you. He would murder whole cities and move the oceans just to please you. He only wanted to give you everything you desired—jewels, clothes, even a child.
The thrill of the chase, of the fight for dominance, never bored him. Even if he told you otherwise, these ‘arguments’ were sometimes needed to remind you who pulled the strings to your heart and who pulled his. The anger and heartache only fueled your desire to seek control and dominance over him, trying to hold him close to you as if he would sleep away into the abyss again.
You had left before.
And it broke him.
You sought the rational solution to lie in wait. Let them come to you. Build relationships, reputations, and trust in those you wish to subjugate.
Greed had chased you away. He paid dearly for that and spent centuries as a pile of omniscient form of liquid goo. As he regained his mind, he thought of you and how he wanted to find and surrender himself to you—telling you how you had been right. He would never doubt you again.
But you had taken your ring off.
You took the one connecting piece off, and you were nothing more than a distant memory in his mind. He had no idea where you were or if you had perished. He sometimes cursed himself for using the ring to bind your bond. But he never thought you would unbind yourself to him.
So when your mind disappeared again, it weakened his weakened state even more. He needed to feel you, and it angered him that you would even think that was a smart idea, but he had asked for trust in those first years.
And trust was a two-way street.
Your whimpered pleas for more brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at you, all unmade under his fingertips. Hair tousled and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful and ethereal as he drove you mad with lust. Your fingers clawed against the linen of your bed, silver band shining in the moonlight as he tore you down with his thrust. Only to remake you once again.
It was not long before you both reached your respective highs. Climax found you both as calls of your names filled the stone walls, echoing into your hearts. His lips moved with yours as you gripped your fingers in his blonde hair. Delicate fingers took their time to ruin the perfectness of the strands. A memory finds you, causing a giggle to leave your lips. The last time he appeared like this was when he first saw you. Though his hair was much different back then, you felt slight sorrow at the choice of blonde hair.
“Red suits you more,” you breathed against his lips. “This,” your fingers moved over the shell of his ears, running up to the pointed tips, causing him to hum at the stimulating touch. “Is how I remember you each and every time I close my eyes,”
He chuckled. “I can change it,” you shake your head.
“No, my sweet Mairon,” you grabbed his face. “I am selfish and wish to be the only one to gaze upon that form.” He hummed and kissed your lips again briefly. Eyes locked as you both sunk into your post-coitus bliss. When the thought crosses your mind. A smile rose on your lips again. “Lord of Gifts,” you breathed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have a gift for you.” You took his lip between yours and sucked down on it.
“What kind of gift would be greater than gazing upon my wife?” Your face warmed before you ran your fingers across his cheekbones. You felt the tickle of uncertainty touch your heart. It was still so early, and you could be wrong in your assessment. But deep in your heart, you knew that you both had created something in the light of that morning when he had willed it.
“The gift of creation,” A darkness flashed across his eyes as you spoke. That earlier worry filled his cold heart. “The fruits of our union.”
“Divine,” he breathed, but you cut him off.
“You are not happy?” He sighed and ran his fingers through your hair. He smoothed out the strands as he tried to find the words to tell you how he felt. In truth, he did not know how he felt. All kinds of emotions crossed his mind until he spoke again.
“It will grow on me; I’m concerned.” You nod, and a weak smile fills your lips before moving to sit up. Fingers running through your hair as you struggle with what to say to him. This was not the reaction you had expected at all. In your belief, you thought he had wanted this as much as you did. His change of heart was sincere, but that was not the case.
“You willed it,” You whimpered. He caught your chin, bringing your gaze to his. His gaze was as soft as he could ever get it to be. Tears brimming in your eyes as you both searched for the right words. He knew you were hurt, and you could sense the fear of the unknown on his dark thread.
“Like any father, I’m surprised and shocked that it happened so quickly,” he finally said. You stifled a loud laugh of amazement at his statement, knowing it was probably not the best right now. But to know he was surprised was shocking; you did not even know he could be that.
“I did not know the Dark Lord could be stunned for words.” A thin smile touched his lips, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear.
“There is a first for everything,”
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