#Wattpad is only okay in some cases

[aiakosm]

I’ve never watched a single movie of Harry Potter nor have I read a single word from the books. So, whatever version of Draco that fanfic writers have collectively agreed to write him as is the version I know. And that version is a sassy, dramatic, funny, and pessimistic person who needs a hug at times.

I’ve only read one fic where it’s Draco’s pov of Tom Riddle and Harry Potter getting together (tomarry if you will) and it was very funny.

Because he’s like ‘this is literally Voldemort, the guy that killed your parents, what are you doing?’ And Harry’s like ‘he might be very manipulative and charming and psychopathic but he isn’t so bad now and he’s very hot so who cares!’

Don’t ask me the name, I don’t know it. But I will be needing more fics of Draco and Harry going back in time and Draco watching Harry get together with the same man that caused a whole big war years later and practically ruined Harry’s life. Throw in a rare-pair Draco ship as a treat.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: this just might be the steamiest thing I’ve written since I was a 14 year old on wattpad doing god’s work. anyway, merry christmas sluts x

warnings: suggestive but not outright smut, use of petnames, soft!dom Spencer

Orbit

Prison can have longterm effects on a person, regardless of the duration of time spent behind bars. If you were to ask Spencer Reid what aspect of him was impacted most greatly by his sentence, he would tell you it was his brain; more specifically, his ability to think. Now, he finds himself taking 60 minutes to make deductions that would have taken him 60 seconds. Time spent locked in a cage has left his mind feeling like it never left; his skull no longer feels metaphorically big enough for him to organize his thoughts, separate them for long enough to distinguish them. The incredibly open mind that Spencer has always had is most often a jumbled, frustrating mess, which only exacerbates the frustration already found there. That is, until you enter a room.

He hasn’t said it to you explicitly, but if anyone asked, Spencer would be unable to deny your innate ability to help him. It’s almost poetic, the way he views you, like you’re the moon to his planet of thoughts; you calm his tides simply by being in his orbit. By existing in his space, you soothe his mind enough to just think, and he’s incapable of ever taking that for granted.

While he can’t spell that out to you without risking mortification over your natural assistance to him with a brain function that should come naturally to him, you are a qualified profiler who has come to understand - in your own way - that Spencer just needs to be around you, sometimes. And he acknowledges that you have an understanding of this, of course. So, when there’s a knock at your hotel room door at 2am, and you scramble out of bed, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and running to the door to find him standing on your doorstep, the surprise that flashes across both of your faces is not something Spencer had predicted.

You are surprised because you can’t help wondering if your thoughts inadvertently summoned Spencer to your doorstep, still wearing his button-up shirt, tie and suit pants that you’d seen him in when working the case together today. On the other hand, Spencer is surprised to find you standing before him wearing nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, from what he can see, alongside the visible signs of you appearing to be…flustered? Your chest rises and falls with heavy pants, your cheeks are flushed, and your pupils are dilated in a way that perhaps only Spencer would notice, but he most definitely notices.

“Spencer! Wh- Come in!” You stumble over your own words, stepping aside to grant him passage into your hotel room.

He strides past you, a firm frown etched on his face. He had thoughts he needed to organize, hence his untimely arrival, but now you have presented him with an entirely new enigma that is his personal mission to crack.

Spencer takes a seat on an armchair in the corner of your hotel room, while you sit on the edge of the bed, notably turned almost completely away from him while you fight to regain some composure; a futile effort, because Spencer has already ruled out exercise (determining you wouldn’t be exercising at this hour or in this room), stress (because he’d have picked up on an irregularity when working alongside you at some point today), and a medical issue (much to your own present demise, you default to him for any questions regarding your health because you trust his expertise) as probable causes, which leads him to a particularly interesting conclusion, in two seconds flat.

“Is everything…okay?” You manage to ask him, and it’s as though you added that shy inflection to your voice just to tick another box on the list in Spencer’s mind, confirming his previous hypothesis without ever intending to.

“Yes, I just needed to think.” What he previously thought he needed to think about is entirely irrelevant now, but he digresses. “Are you…okay?” Spencer returns your question with the same wording, but without the shyness you so graciously included. He’s still making deductions, because he can’t risk acting on his current conclusion until he knows it to be true beyond reasonable doubt.

“Me? Oh, yeah! I’m fine!” You laugh lightly.

Overcompensating, Spencer makes a mental note, ticking another box on the list found in his mind.

A silence settles between you, one that he enforces with purpose. From where he sits in the corner of the room, he watches you like you’re the most fascinating study in human history. Which, he would argue, you are. The way you squirm, aware of Spencer’s gaze on you despite not even looking at him, has him fighting a smirk. There’s a shared awareness in the silence, an acknowledgement of the fact that you and your…chosen activities, are completely exposed to him in this moment, and he’s letting you simmer in that reality for a moment, allowing you time to adjust to that.

The next words Spencer speaks are very carefully chosen, and in that, they knock the air from your lungs.

“What were you thinking about?” The subtext is so clear he could have left the guise of a question out entirely, but there’s an air of respect in that he elects to ignore the access he has to completely embarrassing you. His voice is too quiet for anyone in the next rooms to overhear, so his respectfully tame phrasing is for your benefit, alone, but the answer he’s searching for is clear.

You swallow, hard.

There is no use in lying, not to a man currently counting the microseconds between every breath you take to accurately profile your body’s responses to this interrogation.

“You.”

And never before has Doctor Spencer Reid had a single word eradicate all 187 of his IQ points. It’s as though he can feel them stacking themselves back up in his brain in a frantic, trembling mess. Obviously, that was the answer he had hoped for, but to actually hear you say it goes far beyond any ability he has to accurately predict his own response, particularly when you spoke with a submissive tone that was not possible for him to miss.

5.7 seconds later, when Spencer has regained control over his motor functions, he clears his throat, grateful that you aren’t looking at him to have seen him lose his own composure momentarily.

“Is this the first time you’ve thought of me outside of a professional capacity?” And the award for least seductive means of phrasing an otherwise very hot question goes to…

In Spencer’s defense, it is much easier for him to speak so formally and from a more analytical standpoint. If he lets his emotions take hold now, he may miss a piece of information from you that could be crucial to maximizing this opportunity for you both.

“No.” You answer, your voice more timid now, barely above a whisper.

In your defense, you wouldn’t even regard it as thinking of Spencer ‘outside of a professional capacity’, because you have a running hypothesis that he’d be a professional in that area of life, too.

Still, Spencer hears the anxiety building in your words - or lack thereof - and what they confess to him. The last thing he wants is to overwhelm you. At least, not like this.

Rising from the armchair he’d been occupying, he takes the few strides necessary to stand in front of you, towering over you while you remain sitting on the edge of the bed, your head hanging in shame.

“How many times?” Spencer’s voice is also quieter now, softer, but it’s far from timid. He’s being gentle with you, but his question is a demand for an answer.

You shrug without meeting his gaze, and Spencer raises an eyebrow down at you.

“Words, baby.”

And those two words are enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I don’t know, haven’t kept count.” You stammer, heart spluttering in your chest.

“Let me do the math for you, then.” Spencer muses, tucking his hands into his pockets as he observes you with a soft smile and darkened eyes. “When was the first time?”

You gulp.

“Do I have to ask for your words again?” That’s a warning.

“N-No, I’m just trying to think.” You try to defend yourself, your face feeling hot.

“You don’t need to do any thinking right now, baby, that’s my job.” Spencer soothes you. “Was it during your first week with the BAU?” He questions softly.

“…Yes.”

And that ignites Spencer’s synapses.

“From your first day, we were sent on a case that we worked tirelessly on. The first night was spent on the jet, second night you were so exhausted you slept on a couch in the office while I carried on working, third night I had to wake you in your hotel room at 3am due to a development on the case and I could tell you were in REM sleep by then, so you wouldn’t have had time that night, either. That means it was either the fourth night after we met, in your hotel room, or the fifth night after we arrived back home. Do you remember which?” Spencer asks gently, this time crouching down to be eye-level with you, looking at you with what you can only describe as puppy-dog eyes.

“…In the hotel.” You admit bashfully, meeting Spencer’s gaze for just long enough to see a flicker of his resolve crumbling.

You couldn’t even wait until you got back home? Bad girl. But he’ll keep such a notion to himself, for now.

“That’s good, thank you for telling me,” He praises instead, tucking your hair behind your ears from where he crouches in front of you, while you remain seated on the edge of the bed. “And since then, would you say it’s been once a week, or more?”

Your eyebrows furrow at this question, and Spencer is quick to amend it.

“Do those choices for answers not suit you, sweet girl?” He coo’s, watching you fall into a submissive headspace like it’s second nature for you.

“No…Once a week, but not just…one time.” You struggle to say, your voice sounding small, but you’re melting into the sensation of Spencer’s fingertips dancing over your cheek.

“I see,” He muses, trying his best not to reveal the fact that his brain is short circuiting over that information. See? Imagine if he’d rushed into this and missed out on hearing you admit that! He’d have rather been shot. Again.

“How many times is it usually?” This question has piqued Spencer’s interest more than he cares to admit, but he conceals that well.

“…Three.” You breathe.

“And how many times tonight?” His own voice is a whisper now, his fingertips trailing down your neck.

“Two,” You begin to say, and Spencer’s mind is already sounding like a casino with every machine hitting a jackpot in unison, before you add. “…and a half.”

It takes Spencer a solid second, and a second of being solid, to process that.

“I interrupted you?” There’s a huskiness to his voice that was not there before, and when you nod, he clears his throat. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Can I make it up to you?” And while he stands back up to his full height to lean over you, you instinctively fall back against the bed in what appears to be a practiced mating dance between you, despite it being the very first time.

“Can I?” It’s only when Spencer repeats his question that you realize you are yet to respond. In your defense, you had forgotten your own name because of the hazel in his eyes.

“Yes.” No sooner has the breathy word passed your lips, than his lips descended on the side of your neck.

Spencer’s stubble maps a trail down your throat, gently scratching at the skin while his lips leave tingling kisses in his wake. But if you think Spencer Reid’s mind has stopped working just yet, you are sorely mistaken.

“You said usually around three, implying that as your minimum,” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, his lips nipping at the shell of your ear. “-so that’s a minimum of three orgasms a week for the twenty weeks since we met, that’s a total of 60, but we should leave room for anomalies, so let’s round that up to 70, just to be as accurate as possible.” Spencer murmurs. “Is it always me you think of?” He’s incapable of masking the hope found in his own voice.

You nod frantically.

“Words, baby.” This time, that reminder is punctuated by a soft bite to your neck.

“Y-Yes, you, always you, every time.” You shudder. And who can blame you, when you’ve always known him to be capable of this?

“So I’m responsible for around 70 of your orgasms, without ever having touched you.” Spencer almost can’t believe it, but he can hear how smug he is in his own ears.

One of his hands presses into the sheets beside your head, holding himself up, but his other hand squeezes at your waist through the fabric of your oversized shirt, and he groans into the crook of your neck in approval.

“So soft.” He praises, wanting nothing more than to worship at the altar that is you.

Spencer’s fingertips trace the hem of your oversized shirt, the warm skin of your thighs tempting him beyond his previous ability to comprehend.

“May I?” He requests, ever the gentleman.

“Please.” You answer with the best synonym for ‘yes’ in this context that Spencer could have hoped for.

And he doesn’t hesitate. Long fingers slowly raise the hem of your shirt, bringing it up until it’s just above your belly button, and he lays his palm flat against your stomach, the skin fluttering under his touch. While his lips continue to lavish your neck, collarbone and ear, his free hand descends to the band of your panties, but doesn’t slip beneath it. A whine passes your lips when his hand continues its path south, and you feel him smirk against your neck, until his own breathing shudders.

“Oh, baby…” He groans, having never been more thrilled to feel a soaked piece of fabric in his life. “Look at you, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself. Poor little love.” Spencer coo’s.

But when you shake your head, he halts his movements completely.

“What is it, baby? You want to stop? That’s okay.” He immediately falls into a softness intended to comfort you, not wanting you to feel even remotely uncomfortable or upset. His kisses move to your cheek, each one an act of devotion. “It’s okay. Being in a submissive headspace can be incredibly overwhelming at times, and you can always tell me if it does. We don’t ever have to do anything that you don’t want to do, sweet girl. In fact-“

It’s only when you turn your head to meet Spencer’s lips with your own, that you manage to stop his ramble and his entire train of thought.

“It’s not that.” You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting him to overthink about having breached your boundaries.

“Then…what?” Spencer asks, looking into your eyes with the most sincere concern.

“I just wanted to correct you, because I didn’t make a mess of myself. You made a mess of me.” You smile up at him, and the sweetness with which you say something so sinful is enough to make Spencer’s heart drop right out of his chest.

In all his years, he has never understood the sensation of blood rushing away from his brain, more than he does right now.

His gaze softens with both relief and arousal, a sigh passing his lips that evolves into a light chuckle, before his lips fall to yours again, meeting you in a heated kiss. And when Spencer’s hand continues its previous path, he feels your thighs part, and a growl of some description rumbles in his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

That possessive title causes a delighted shudder to rock through you, which Spencer makes a prominent mental note of.

“70’s the number to beat.” He whispers in your ear seductively, and your jaw falls open.

“In one night?!” It’s more of a squeak than a question, but it makes Spencer laugh into the crook of your neck as his lips descend it.

“As much as I’d love to ruin your body for anyone other than me, I think that just might ruin you entirely, which isn’t my aim. But…” He bites at your neck. “I can promise you, you’re getting more than three.”

From where you lie, you can feel something pressing against your thigh that tells you it’s going to be a very, very long night.

[mischelmayleys]

Only this first one is going to be post here probably so for more go to my wattpad: football_woman_11

CHAPTER 1

Mapi and Ingrid were the perfect ending for each other. They knew it of course. But sometimes they felt like something was missing. Maybe someone. Some little legs running around their shared apartment in the catalonia town. 

It started as a thought from their conversation one simple evening that turned them into a fostering process. They were told they are too busy and always traveling for the games as all the workers have said. It wasn't an environment for a little kid that probably came out of something tragic to find itself in a foster system. 

They still tried. They still asked if there was someone they could foster and later adopt. But the simple "No" set their hopes to minimum, until one day.

„Are you totally insane Eliza!" My social worker yelled at me as soon as she found me in a police station sitting in the 24 hour jail. I looked down at my bleeding knuckles and pursed my lips to stop the pounding pain in them.

I shrugged my shoulders and let myself sink further into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

„Do you have any idea how this will look  on your record. Running from yet another of your homes is one thing there but fights. And don't let me start at your school records." She was looking at me through the bars of the cell.

„They weren't my home." I said looking up at her.

She sighs: „Eliza I know you don't like them, but you need to at least try. There aren't many families that want a 16 year old, yet trouble maker. You know how hard it was for me to find you Mr and Mrs Freemans?" She let the question sink. She didn't expect me to answer her, yet she stayed quiet.

„I was protecting myself in the fight AND running away was a way better option than staying." I argued back at her. She doesn't know how it is in the foster system. For her every family is good, but it's never the case.

I was in five families so far. Neither of them were okay.

In the first one the father abused me mentally the second one physically, but no one ever believed me.

Who would believe a 16year old girl over people who put everything together once they're investigating? No one...

I didn't eat normal food for a long time, of course I always ended up getting some bread or cold food, but my body was missing some hot and fresh food.

„Eliza we talked about this. A roof over your head is home.“ Again I stayed quiet and just stared at my now numb hands. She wasn’t right. Home is when you are somewhere you are loved and treated right. 

My social worker continued to look at me for a few more minutes until she signaled for the cop to release me: „You are sleeping in my office tonight. The family dropped your things into my car. Come on.“ She grabbed me by my arm and dragged me into her car. 

„You bailed me out?“ I asked as she started the engine. 

„Yes.“ It was a simple answer but it made me smile a little. At least someone cared. 

The next day my social worker forced me into my classes and said after school to go immediately to her office, saying she found a family for me to stay over there for a couple of days. I didn’t bother to go, instead I went to a small football field where I sneaked and borrowed one ball which was always lying around somewhere on the pitch. 

I threw my backpack onto the field which didn’t include any of my school stuff. Instead of books it was filled with my football shoes and a half of my skateboard. The other half was showing from the back pack as it of course didn’t fit into him.

I quickly changed my shoes and began to do some tricks with the ball that I learned online. They were simple but at least I didn't suck at it like I did with school. 

It wasn't like I was stupid or something, I just didn't care. Foster kids don't normally get picked out to the school football team or to anything really. You don't have many friends because you are always moving around and no one likes new kids anyway. 

After some time my phone blew up with messages and missed calls from my social worker asking where the FUCK I was. I just rolled my eyes and said I'll be there in a few minutes. It was better to come late, at least they won't pick me if they see that I'm not bothered. 

I would lie if I didn't say I was scared to go into the office door. It would mean meeting the people who I would live with. They never were nice people fostering me. 

They seemed okay but most of them turned out into drug junkies, alcoholics or abusers. Sometimes all at once. I am kind of used to it now. I mastered a skill in running away and quickly scanning the areas I was in to see a potential way out. 

I took a deep breath and with a bored expression knocked on the door and opened them immediately after. 

I was met with my social worker and two women talking.  

„Eliza, come here. Sit.” My social worker said, making me sigh and sit into the chair next to her facing the two women. 

„This is Maria and Ingrid and they will take you in, until I find someone to adopt you.” my social worker was saying but all I was focusing on were the two women in front of me. 

One of them had tattoos all over her arms and one on her neck. I focused on that one more: 

Looks can be deceiving

Hmm interesting. People with tattoos tend to look aggressive and most of the time they are. One of the last foster homes I was in, the man had many tattoos…I used to look at them when he beat me up. How his muscles flexed and the tattoos moved on his arms. 

„Eliza!” I was torn from my thoughts because my social worker called my name. 

„Yeah, sure whatever.” I mumbled annoyed and stood up. 

„Be nice and please stay out of trouble.” She said as I followed Ingrid and Maria out of the door. 

I took a deep breath: „No.” And with that I closed the door and turned around to find them staring at me.

„What?” I asked.

Ingrid smiles at me: „We are waiting for you.” she stuck out her hand and I just looked at it and walked past them. 

„Or not.” I heard Maria mumble as they followed me closely.

Due to me not knowing where to go I stopped and looked back at the two women. 

„It’s that black Cupra.” Ingrid pointed out a black car sitting at the back of the parking lot. 

I nodded and walked to the car feeling them right behind me. 

I quickly slipped into the back seat and sat down with my backpack next to all of my bags which I don't know how they got there. Probably my social worker. 

I pulled my board between my legs so I don't make the interior of the car dirty. It was so clean. 

„So, are you hungry? Or did you eat in school?” Maria turned from the front seat facing me. 

I shook my head quickly: „I am not hungry.” I learned that by now, when someone asks me if I'm hungry the answer always has to be no. I once said yes and I hadn't eaten anything for three days due to me being ungrateful. 

They both shared a concerned look which I didn't see because I was already looking out of the window.

When Ingrid stopped the car I realized that we were in front of McDonald's. I frowned, why are we here if I said I'm not hungry?

„I know you said you aren't hungry but I think some fries aren't that big of a deal, what do you say?” Ingrid turned my way smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling at me? 

„I guess…” I mumbled in case this was some kind of a trap. Ingrid and Maria looks nice…nicer that the other people, but I am done trusting the system putting me somewhere nice.

They both went outside of the car as I stayed in. 

„Well you are coming too let's go.” Maria said as she opened the door on my side. Fuck! I mumbled under my breath and got out of the car carefully placing my board into the space between the seats. 

They were asking too many questions. If I really want just fries? If I want a burger as well? Or what I want to drink. I tried to reply short and no to most of the questions, but in the end I ended up with The nuggets, fries and coke zero in the back placed safely in my lap as we sat in the car to their house.

I still don’t know what to think about them. They are smiling at me, buying me food and making sure I have everything and it has only been two hours since they first met me. There must be something wrong with them…

Ingrid parked the car in front of a flat building in the center of Barcelona. It looked expensive here…or at least better than the streets where my usual foster parents lived. Maria took all of my bags even though I said I could carry them on my own, but she dismissed me by saying: “Why would you do that?” 

I didn’t fight her back on it, not because I didn’t want to, but it was Ingrid who literally guided me out of Marias way. 

“Come on let Maria be, I am going to show you your room.” Ingrid said and with her hand on my back she led me into the elevator. I had the Mcdonald's back in one hand and my board in the other one. I get my own room? 

[shintin]

The Hickey on Your Neck

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Only seconds before closing your eyes do you realize that the dreams you had forgotten among the lust and thrust of your lover were the life you were destined to lead.

Or a story about how You and Vash fucked from dawn to dusk on his birthday.

Word count: +17.5 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Trigun au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, established relationship, soft/dom Vash the Stampede, too much fluff and kissing, scar worship, plant patterns display, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie,  fingering (with prosthetic arm), unprotected sex (c’mon! We want his seeds), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, two smut scenes (one romantic, other hardcore), aftercare, emotional trauma, violence, blood and gore, post-Trigun Stampede but no manga spoilers.

Notes: I'd never written a Trigun fic before, but with this Vash brain rot, I'm sure it won't be the last. I originally intended to name this fic "Sleepless Nightmare" after TOMBI song, but somehow changed my mind. You'll see why. "Elay" in my mother tongue means the Moon of a Tribe. A nick name Vash will use for reader.

By the way, you can also read the Disclaimers and Writer's Note at the end.

Song Recommendation: The Hickey on Your Neck Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.

Back to master list.

07:30 pm – July 21st

A hole had been left in your heart. Throwing yourself backward, you tripped over your feet. Your head slammed into the floor as your arms did little to break your fall. It was a pain you'd never known, a pain you never thought you could feel, never would have even imagined. From the inside out, you were lit on fire by a bullet that went off in your chest.

All of a sudden, everything slowed down.

So this, you thought, was what dying felt like.

You blinked, and it seemed to take forever. The images before you were unfocused, with colors, bodies, and lights swaying in unison and stilted movements blurring. Your ears couldn't hear clearly. All the sounds were garbled, warped, and too high or low.

Who … she?

I asked for a tall, blond man with … eyes, and the folks pointed at her.

How come … shot her …?

She said … had never met such a man.

… idiot! What if she's with the gunman?

Whatever. … doesn't draw a gun anymore; rumor has it.

What a moron! The man may not kill, but … wiped out … whole city!

What … … we should … then?

If … … his girl, … … screwed up!

… the bounty! … get lost before the news …!

It was like all the words were banging into each other, colliding again, spinning around you. Your name seemed to be being called, but you couldn't hear it. Everything was muffled, slippery, and off-balance, like it was there, just out of reach, but you couldn't find it.

Heavy footsteps stomped, stomped, and stomped the ground, and a familiar face appeared before you. The shape, the golden and green colors drew your attention, and you tried raising your hand to feel his warmth once more and assure him that everything was okay, but it was too hard, and suddenly you couldn't breathe. Your throat felt like it was being slashed, holes punching into your lungs, and the more you blinked, the less clearly you could see. The tightest breaths, tiny little gasps, were soon all you could manage. Pain, pain, and more pain followed the dizziness and lightheaded feeling. It was terrible, never seeming to end.

Your sight suddenly went dim. Blindness overtook you.

Blood dripped from you rather than being seen as you blinked, blinked, and blinked in a desperate attempt to regain your vision, but all you saw was a cloud of white. A short frantic gasp and the pounding of your eardrums were all heard. Some warm sensation spread throughout your body as the fresh blood pooled under you.

You knew your life was about to evaporate, and it only made you think about how short you lived with him and how he would blame himself for your loss. Leaving your tears to fall, you whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Vash."

05:45 am - July 21st

A sharp intake of breath caused your eyes to fly open. Your skin froze in a cold sweat as your brain waded in waves of distress. Inhaling as much as possible was the only thing you could do. Your chest heaved, and your heart raced. You looked around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the white ceiling.

Your hands reached your throat and chest. No blood. No holes. You could feel your pulse. That must be the sound of your heart, at least, you hoped.

There was a strange feeling in your gut, like your instincts were stumbling through mud, and your bones were filled with stones. Your eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, and you sighed in relief. The reality sleeping next to you brought a moment of clarity. You sat up on your elbows, head spinning as you glanced at the nightstand.

The glass was empty.

You slowly pushed the sheets aside and felt more awake with your bare feet touching the cold floor. Picking up the glass, you tiptoed toward the murky kitchen.

You reached for the pitcher on the table, but the water never made it to your lips; instead, your trembling hands grabbed the faded and scratched edges of the cabinet as if letting go of this old piece of plywood would plunge you into the blackhole of your nightmare.

A muffled whimper escaped from the bottom of your throat, and you whispered, it was just a dream. Yet, your white knuckles became wet as tears streamed down your face, blurring the cracked tiles before you.

You shouldn't have cried. You should have been stronger. Not just for yourself, but...

Incoherent thoughts still occurred to you as you pressed your palm to your lips—a fruitless attempt to stop any further crying from coming out.

It was just a dream. Everything was fine.

Your glistening eyes were fixed on the glass of water as you took a sip and pushed the venom-like lump down your throat. Nobody was going to lose anyone. This fear was deeply buried under the sands of your heart. Why did it have to appear today of all days?

A chill ran down your esophagus. Your hand shook involuntarily, and a few drops of water slid from the corner of your mouth to your chin and neck and then ran to your perked nipples.

Looking down at your body, you wiped the drops away before feeling cold. After all, this planet didn't earn its name, "Noman's Land" for nothing. The weather could get pretty chilly and cruel in this desert when those two suns weren't out. Moreover, let's not forget how many people were denied heat due to a lack of resources. Ugh! So, it's not like you didn't know you should've worn something, but God damn it! You woke up feeling a great deal of fear. Fuck! Still, you weren't eager to catch a cold. At least, not today. As you were about to return to bed, you suddenly stopped. Random images filled your mind.

Tears staining emerald green eyes, red flowers blooming on blood, and heart-wrenching screams fading in the night, all in an empty room filled with balloons and mud.

The next gulp of water tasted salty, leaving you feeling numb. Tears must have flowed down your cheeks. You lowered your glass and let your thoughts drift away.

There was a flash of your limp body in your mind, accompanied by a sharp twinge in your gut, a screaming sensation in your body, as if your lungs craved for air.

You wicked away the images, expunging thoughts of pain and death from your mind. The churning in your stomach began to slow, but your skin took on a damp, clammy sensation in its wake. You struggled to recount the things you had eaten last night. It must be it. No doubt, you had eaten poorly.

It was just a dream. What the hell was wrong with you? Crying over a dream? What were you, five? No, not today! Not today! Not today! Get your shits together!

After a moment of hesitation, you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, ran your palm across your forehead and nose, and stopped it on your mouth before glancing at the bed.

Your pale face bloomed with a faint smile as you saw the sight—a miracle in this barren wilderness.

The curtains of the half-open window fluttered lazily with the morning breeze, letting the suns' rays play upon his scarred shoulder blades now and then, and run their greedy fingers through the golden waves of his hair, an enraged sea of sunflowers bounded by rough rocky beaches on the side. Oh! His undercut was glorious from where you watched.

He was sleeping with his eyelids slowly moving. The corners of his lips were curved upwards. Today seemed to be one of those rare days when he was free of the burdens of his past. Was he dreaming? What was his dream about? Love? Peace? Foods? Probably sweets!

You tried to avoid the woods squeaking beneath your feet as you walked back. Putting the glass of water next to the orange-tinted shades, you slowly climbed back under the warm sheets without shifting the mattress too much.

Once your head touched the pillow, cinnamon, and caramel again filled your nostrils. The man ate so many donuts that you feared he would become one. When you pictured it, your smile reached your eyes, and you giggled silently.

Like on the days you woke up early, you rolled over to face him and let your eyes roam over his abs muscles and those beautiful V lines guiding you to his secret paradise. Other than the massive gash across his chest, he had several cuts on his arms, wounds on his shoulders, and scars all over his back and legs. This man was a walking history, marked with painful memories, and luckily, your lips had perfectly mastered the story behind every blemish, slit, and stitch on his body.

It wasn't that simple, though.

When you first met him, he was a broken man covered in an old cloak, his eyes filled with agony. He was consumed by remorse, but nonetheless, he was still full of life and willing to try and glue back all his broken parts. Indeed, it was a challenge for him, and somehow, it didn't come easy to you either. Your heart ached when you removed each piece of clothing from his body. You cursed those who hurt him. It took you time and love to learn how to cherish those wounds instead of looking at them with pity. And little by little, your eyes learned to see a delicate kind of beauty in them, as if, every once in a while, you could see the sunlight shining through the cracks of his heart, lighting up your world in a most wonderful way.

Perhaps that's why after years of running, running, and running, he stopped for once and decided to rest. Something about you must have felt like home. And how lucky you were to have this?

06:30 am - July 21st

You couldn't look away from him, your mind unable to comprehend the perfection of this happiness. He was so ethereal you could hardly fathom that he was yours, wanted and loved you. You couldn't even hear yourself think over the rush of blood in your ears. The sight of him sleeping beside you, relaxed and vulnerable, was causing wild, desperate thoughts to race through your head. God! The fantasies you'd had about him. The places your mind had gone.

You sighed and brushed your face to the pillow, hoping he would roll over to you in his sleep so you could get back into his arms and the legs draped around you. Your eyelids peered at the glistening prosthetic arm in the soft light of the down. Could he feel your warmth whenever you kissed those fingers? How come you had never asked? There were many things you hadn't asked him yet.

Maybe you should start tomorrow? Hm? It's not like the world was ending today.

"You're going to come back over here, or you want to leave me cold and lonely?" he murmured, the raggedness in his voice confirming that he had been sleeping. Your gaze shifted upwards to meet his eyes, only to realize they were still shut, but his lips were painted with a playful grin.

Something inside you melted. It moved by his words, his smile, and his voice.

"I thought you were asleep." You scooted closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, cautious not to accidentally hurt you when he slipped his left arm beneath your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up." Your forehead pressed against his chest, and you felt the coldness of the iron mesh against your skin. His chin rested on your head, and his toes caressed your legs. The prickles of scars and fine hairs of his limbs tickled yours, and you felt blessed.

Funny how your nightmare faded the moment you felt his warmth like he burned a hole right through your head and pulled all your thoughts out. Well, other than that, it seemed like this morning, everything about him was exactly what you needed. His voice was calm and caring, his arms protective, and his presence comforting. You didn't want him to let go of you.

"Even if you had woken me up," he said, his artificial fingers sinking into your hair, and he continued, "I wouldn't have minded." A light kiss on the crown of your head followed his honest words. Even though this man kissed you every day and night, you could feel a silent giggle seeping into your body, causing your face to blush bright red.

Vash yawned soundlessly as he pulled you closer, his eyes still closed. The two of you were so close, too close, but never close enough for him. You had come to realize that your body heat did more for him than any blanket could. It was always in his eyes, aching with a desperate yearning he could only meet with you and your touch.

A joyful happiness settled between you as his hands drew shapes and patterns alongside your spine like those bright ones sometimes you could see on his body. Your lips curved into a smile as you watched him. His hair thick and blonde. The lines of his body sharp and robust. Damn! He had everything about him beautifully crafted. His nose. His chin. His ears and eyebrows. The eyelashes any girl would kill for and those turquoise-green eyes you longed to see. He had a gorgeous mouth.

You lingered too long there, your eyes betraying your mind.

Vash smiled. "What are you doing?" He fiddled with your hair, wrapping a lock around his finger.

In response, you sighed. Clearly, you would never discover how to avoid getting caught red-handed every time. "Just enjoying the view," you said, still staring at his mouth. You reached and touched two fingers to his bottom lip only to feel a rush of memories.

Long nights. Early morning. His mouth on you. Everywhere. Over and over again.

07:15 am - July 21st

He laughed sheepishly at your response.

You brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. His hair had grown a little long. You stroked his cheeks and drew his head back toward you, pressing your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his prosthetic arm while his other embraced you tightly. You could feel him smiling against your lips.

He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy. You should have been afraid and wanted to hide it, as he was the most wanted man on the planet, but love had made you bold and brave.

You pulled back and studied his kiss-inspiring lips. Your whole body was filled with a warmth you wanted to share with him because it was pure, and so was he. There was no way for you to find the right words to describe how you felt.

The morning light was shining through the windows at the perfect angle and time. His muscles were taut, bathed in gold.

"Can you lie back, Vash?" you asked, pushing his shoulder back toward the bed. Finally fluttering his eyes open, he lifted his head in your direction.

Oh.

God.

His eyes.

He blinked dark lashes, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty, unlike anything you'd seen before. The way a person could convey so much with a glance caught you off guard. He had an extraordinary amount of pain paired with even more extraordinary passion.

His face spread into a wide smile the moment he saw you. These smiles, they changed him, and moments like this killed you a little.

He had the kind of face that made you forget where you were, who you were, and what you might say or do. You held his face in your hands as you laid his head down on the pillow. A half-lidded gaze sat on his face as he leaned to your touch, and you kissed him. Slowly, this time. His eyes fell closed. His mouth responded to yours.

Your fingers moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your mouth followed them. Soft lips caressed his earlobes and nipped the tiny single hoop, hot breaths hitting his skin, surprising a giggle out of him.

His hands reached up to pull you closer, but you stopped him. "No," you whispered. "Don't move." Without a second thought, he dropped his hands.

"Lie back and keep your eyes closed," you muttered, and strangely, he didn't object. His obedience led to you kissing him everywhere. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. The tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows. All across his forehead and along his jawline. Every inch of his face. Soft, small kisses that said more than you ever could. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to feel it in the way only he could, the way he could sense the depth of your emotions. You wanted him to know and never forget.

And you wanted to take your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he gasped. You peeked up at his features only to meet a crooked grin on his face. The moment was worth savoring. It seemed like Mr. Vash was enjoying himself, so your tongue continued to adore his arm's sculpted hills and valleys, the perfect shape of his torso.

You breathed in the scent of his skin and took in the taste of him as your hands ran down his abs, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso. You kissed around his navel, and the trails of fine hair underneath caressed your lips. He kept reaching for you, trying to touch you until you told him to stop.

"Please," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to feel—"

Even though he couldn't see you, you raised your brows with a head tilt and gentled back his arms. "Not yet. Not now."

He let out a breath in protest and crossed his arms behind his neck until your hands went further down and his eyes flew open. Blinking at him, you found out you were still fascinated by his eyes—such a stunning shade of green. "Close your eyes, Vash," you had to tell him.

A big gulp of air filled up his Adam apple. "No." He hardly spoke.

"Close your eyes!"

With his sharp gaze following your every move, he shook his head and leaned on his elbows.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes, and your hand grabbed the base of his hardness.

As soon as your nails brushed the skin of his length, he sat up and stared at you. He was breathing so fast you could hear and see his chest moving.

With a smile, you looked him in the eyes and leaned your head down. Your mouth took in the tip, and your tongue traced circles as Vash gasped. The sight of your bent head made him bite his lip. No doubt every fiber of his being demanded you to take him fully in your mouth, but he wanted you to call the shots. Allowing you to control the pace pushed him to the edge. He enjoyed the thrill of knowing he was at your mercy.

Soft hairs of his thighs against your ears, your nose skimmed his sensitive areas, and your lips kissed all over those favorite parts. The smooth skin of your fingers rolled around was warm and delicate, so fragile you were afraid you might tear it with your teeth. You felt his hardness throb against your cheek, pleading with you not to neglect him. Your thumb rubbed the pre-cum off the pink tip as you raised your head.

You looked up at him, his hair gleaming like golden flames, his cheeks drenched with sweat, and his lower lip stuck between his teeth, and you realized that his eyes looked at you with a look of something like trepidation, as if he was nervous. His face was still flushed red, and he had an expression somewhere between unworthiness and pleasure. With every stroke, his breath grew heavier. Obviously, he wanted more but was trying to contain his desire. Did he feel he was getting something he didn't deserve again?

There was no way you could let him be alone with these thoughts. So, before his dazzled eyes, you licked your thumb and watched how blood drained from his head and rushed straight to his torso. In surrender, he fell back; his eyes squeezed shut. You closed your mouth to half his length, and he turned his face to the pillow, stifling a moan. A tremor ran through his body, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Your hands ran down his legs, grabbing them just above his knees and inching them apart so you could trail kisses down the insides of his thighs.

He looked like he was in so much pain. So much pain.

You licked the pain away.

Twirling your fingers around the length, you took the crown in your mouth. Only enough to tease. Too little to satisfy. Your lips gently pressed against it, and when Vash was ready to scream, you accepted his whole length in your mouth.

Your lips were sealed tight as you hummed and increased the speed of your ministration. He threaded his fingers through your hair and molded his hands into your head, not to push you further down but to tilt your face up.

His forehead and neck were dripping sweat. The lines of emotion on his face were so deep you wondered how you must look to him. His throat bobbed, and you felt yourself drown in his eyes, enigmatic yet expressive, like sea foam, tempestuous but very calm. His fingers trailed over your salivate-covered lips, and you noticed that the sadness in his eyes had receded.

The world was suddenly brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.

07:40 am - July 21st

Taking hold of you by the arm pits, Vash pulled you in until your chest touched his. Next, you were rolled over so that your back touched the mattress, and he crawled onto you. Now his arms were propped up on either side of your head so he would not crush you under his weight. Looking into his eyes, you were pinned in place. His urgency ignited your bones. The polished planes of his face glowed with rivulets of sweat. His hardness was poking desperately against your thigh.

"I want to … …, …," he whispered. Intoxicated, you couldn't digest anything except his body hovering over you.

"… ?" His body pressed closer, and you realized you were paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs.

His eyes were heavy now in a way that worried you, but his gaze was still so tender, focused, and full of emotions you could hardly bring yourself to say anything. As your words faded, they became an unspoken whisper. Your lips glued together.

Screams.

Death.

Screams.

Your heart suddenly raced. What if these moments were destined to expire?

The sound of a clock striking midnight. A pumpkin carriage. The possibility of losing him.

You didn't want your arms to be deprived of his warmth. His touch. His lips, God, his lips, his mouth on your neck, his body wrapped around yours. The nightmare had caused this all, you knew, but the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into you.

Blinking fast, you swallowed back the fear building in your throat. God! He was speaking with you, but you couldn't hear him.

You were worried, really worried something was going to happen to him. What if bounty hunters found him? Could his brother hurt him? No. No. No. Even though you were only a human, you would never allow such a thing to happen. You just couldn't. You...

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, so soft. His arms were stronger than all the bones in your body. He pulled your figure close. You heard the beats of his heart humming deeply within his chest, and the steel of his arm encircled your whole body, releasing tension from your limbs. The icicles in your body were melted by his heat. Something about this frame made you want to freeze it forever. "You okay, Firefly? Wanna stop?"

The words he said sent waves of emotion coursing through you. He could read you like an open palm. You weren't lost before you met him, but you were never found until he laid eyes on you. Your tears stung as they fell backward down your throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, Vash," you said before closing your eyes.

He searched your face, unsure what to do, hesitating, until you felt his lips on your shoulder, tender and scorching, so gentle you could almost believe it was the kiss of breeze and not a man.

Again.

This time, it was on your collarbones and felt like an ache that needed to be soothed. You didn't want to do anything to stop his mouth from touching your body.

He pulled back.

Desire.

Crave.

Need.

Again.

Your eyes refused to open.

His finger grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, the curves, the seams, and the dips. You felt him so much closer, his body heat filling the air around you, along with his smell and something sweet, until nothing was left. Your senses were so engulfed in his scent you didn't even realize your back was arching toward him as you breathed him in until you found out his fingers were no longer on your lips because his hand had gotten around your body.

"So, where do you want me to kiss you?" Vash whispered, his chest heaving, his words almost gasping. A wave of blistering heat moved through you, sealed shut your mouth. You didn't specify precisely where you wanted him to kiss you, and he didn't seem to have any difficulty selecting the spot. 

He whispered your name as he kissed the corner of your eyebrow. "Here?" His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, and your body squirmed slightly. "Or here?" He pressed a kiss against your neck, right beneath your ear, and you tipped your head to let him in, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster, as he murmured, "tell me."

Clasping your warm fingers with his cold metallic ones, he hovered over you to kiss your throat. You were the oxygen he desperately needed to breathe. His body was almost on top of yours, one hand in your hair while the other held yours delicately yet firmly. His lips crushed yours in no time.

A kiss like this was like swimming in honey rivers, like being dipped in gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss and not realizing you were drowning because you were too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing mattered anymore—neither your nightmare, this room, or the whole fucking planet.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This moment. These lips. This strong body pressed against yours, and these firm hands that always found a way you bring you closer. Oh, My Gosh! You wanted so much more of him. You wanted all of him.

Your eyes opened up.

Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, dancing over his broad shoulders, pressing into his dimples, and squeezing his hips.

Your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair when he broke for air with a groan, but you pushed him back, kissing his neck, arm, collarbones, and chest. It was amazing. Being with him, touching him, holding him like this. The rush of adrenaline was so intense and euphoric that you felt invincible.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking. Your skin was scorched everywhere he hadn't touched you.

He kissed your top lip.

He licked your bottom lip.

He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples and cheeks across your jawline. Then your neck, behind your ears, the space between your breasts. He nibbled your nipples and left trails of kisses all the way down your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly his chest was hovering above your hips.

Grasping your calves, he spread your legs apart just enough for his head to fit between. Your thighs were lifted, and you couldn't see him anymore. His only visible features were the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that sight was lost, with your head falling backward and muffled moans leaving your mouth.

Vash ran his hands down and up around your bare upper thighs and ribs, and he held your hips to make you stand still. Your eyes lit up like small firecrackers every time his hair teased your groins until his lips kissed you there, and fireworks exploded in the back of your head.

As his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue played around to make you scream aloud. His mouth brushed against your skin in places you couldn't see but felt deeply. Oh my! You were out of your body, touching stars, when you realized he was working his way up your body, leaving two fingers of that prosthetic arm behind.

"It might feel a bit cold," he said as his nose glided the skin of your stomach, leaving random kisses around your breasts and collarbones just to ease your tension. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" His hair was a mess, the wetness on his lips all familiar.

A nod came from you in response. He almost seemed to be smiling as his fingers slipped inside your slit, and your nails dug into the fabric. Moaning, you felt his warm hand brushing your hair backward as the other moved up and down inside your walls.

Your mouth was parted in a silent moan, and his small pecks covered you all around. There were tears in your eyes, baby hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.

As his thumb and two fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You grabbed his free arm, and he pulled himself up, onto you, on top of you. As if reading your thoughts, he kissed you hard. How strange, yet sweet, all you could taste was you, yourself, on his tongue. You moaned at the taste, and he opened his mouth more for you, allowing you to brush your tongue against his teeth.

The stinging coldness of his fingers was long gone. You had forgotten everything. There was something you shouldn't have forgotten, but you couldn't even remember why, what you were forgetting. Amid his length caressing your side and those digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

You could die from this, you decided. From wanting him, from the pleasure of being with him.

You must be smiling because he was looking at you and smiling too. His forehead was pressed against yours. His skin was flushed with heat. His hand had kept your head still. Your hands gripped his nick, sliding into the hollow behind it. You placed your palms just above his nape, and your fingertips gently began to squeeze and massage his undercut.

"Va-sh."

For a moment, you thought life poured out of you, or maybe your vision fractured as release barreled into you, and you grasped his name over and over again till your body calmed under his weight.

08:10 am- July 21st

Your eyes landed on his glistening wet metallic fingers, and you were dripping, burning, melting with anticipation. He was still on top of you when you thought you heard him speak, his mouth close to your ear.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed your brow. It never occurred to you that he could be like this, so human, so real, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face. You were about to mutter all the words and worries you held in your chest, but suddenly he stood up and stared blankly at the other side of the room.

You followed his gaze to the pane of glass separating you from the reality outside. You awaited his lips to part. You waited to listen to him speak. His eyes weren't revealing anything about what he was thinking, what was going on.

Something about the realization struck fear into your heart. In the span of a single instant, darkness surrounded your vision. Images appeared in the blur of your sight again.

The petals of red Geraniums floating in the sky, a boy running through blood-stained sands, the time speeding up and slowing down in fits and starts, streaks of green and red staining your dilated eyes, stars exploding, lights flashing, sparking, and then it's all darkness and Vash's screams.

You shook your head.

The images disappeared, but the heartaches and fears lingered, and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe. Your lungs begged for air, but you looked around for Vash instead.

It seemed he wanted to scream, but you knew the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Those thoughts would expand in his head, explosive and angry, pressing against the ridges of his mind, and then he would hide them behind a smile. As he always did.

"Vash?" you called, just before witnessing how a car's radio sound from the street ripped open his past, pulled out what was left of his heart, and dropped it on the floor.

"… been two years since that fateful July 21st. A crowd has gathered at what used to be the third city of July to pay their respects. Even after two years, the pain of losing their loved ones has yet to heal. The suspect said to have murdered 90 percent of the city, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, still remains at large. Vash the Stampede is on the run. If I were the demon who turned the whole city into a gaping crater overnight, I'd hide my face too. There is no forgetting the sorrow of loved ones taken from us. The Alliance of Cities has raised the dead or alive bounty on Vash the Stampede to $$60 billion, the highest in the history of…"

The loud words bounced around in the haze of your head, fogging your senses, misting your eyes, and clouding your concentration. In your bones, there was just ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped you in the face, punched you in the jaw, and dumped you into sand oceans. You grasped the nightstand to keep yourself steady. The orange shades fell on the floor, leaving a big crack on display.

Vash was shaking his head over and over and over and over. He was looking at his hands like he would see some blood on them, as if waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real and he didn't actually kill those 200,000 innocent people.

Oh, my beloved.

The pain was so plain on his face; it was killing you. Your gaze was drawn to the balled fists at his sides, the furrows in his brow, and the tension in his jaw. Minutes ago, this man was free, but now he was a prisoner of his own crime. In your heart, you wished you could release him from the claws of self-reproach.

Having seen his terror too often, you knew it well.

Sometimes, even when he was asleep, his tormented mind would grip his heart, and such emptiness and sadness would fill him that you felt he was suffocating, as if his sleepless nightmares never had an end.

You didn't know him before,

but

you

thought

he

had

lost

a

bit

of

himself

on

the

day

of

July

incident.

As time passed, you assumed he had finally learned not to dwell on what had happened. You imagined he avoided it like a cripple learning not to put weight on his injured leg.

However, deep down, you knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble. You always dreaded this day. This silence. It was not just an ordinary silence caused by the lack of things that moved or made noise, but a deep and tired silence that sometimes covered him like an invisible cloak—like the one ruling between your shared walls right now.

Stacks of sorrow had grown inside him, settling on his bones and snapping him in half. A cable twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

How naive of him to think he could slip into the role of a regular being and live a normal life in love and peace.

Vash.

Vash the stampede with a dream.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification. He began to think others were right when they said things like him were better off destroyed.

Shaking his head, he coughed against the torture in his lungs, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission, leaving him sitting on the bed's edge like a sack full of nothingness. The old gunman looked as if he might collapse, barely breathing, his life-force being torn asunder.

You felt like your throat was closing up. You knew the infamous humanoid typhoon was everything broken and glued back together, and now knives bore holes into his cracked bones, filled with grief that could take his breath away.

Your face was drained of color, your ears ringing with your heart pounding. His desperate screams from your nightmare echoed in your head as if on repeat. His agony was acute. His terror palpable. Tears sprung to your eyes. It was painful to look at him, being so close and far away from him.

"Local news. You know how dumb they are," you said, trying to hide your petrified and nerve-wracking thoughts from his reach. What if he never experienced peace? What if there was no sanctuary, and the pain was always a whisper away, no matter where he went?

Pressing your nails to your palm, you continued, "None of that incident was your fault. You know that too. You hear me?"

His eyes widened a little. No one had ever cared about him for this long. No one had kept him ever this closely to read his thoughts word by word. No one had ever treated him like a human being. Then again, he thought you didn't know about all of his sins. In a century and a half, he hadn't been able to forgive himself; how could you? It made him wonder how long you could endure him before running for your life.

His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. He clenched his fists and pushed back down the misery that had stuck with him. Even though he didn't want this, you'd probably be better off without him.

"Vash?" You swallowed and dug your fingers into the sheets desperately, a tear trickling down your cheek. It kept hitting you in the face, in the skull, in the spine, this knowledge of just how much you loved him.

His lips looked like they were barely able to form words. He could only take these harsh gasps and wonder why his body hadn't given up.

On all fours, you approached him and sat on your knees on the edge of the bed with a slight distance between you and him. You knew he wouldn't object, but you didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Thus, you remained silent so that he wouldn't be left by himself, and he would know you wouldn't leave him alone.

09:15 am – July 21st

Time passed, and you checked on him occasionally to see if he wanted to talk until he raised his head slightly.

"I'm a demon," he said the sentence so quietly. So, so quietly. He ran a hand across his face, both hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to scream, to break something, like he was truly about to lose his mind. "The world sees me as a threat. An unfixable monster. An abomination. They want me dead." His voice sounded sorrowful, almost like he had already accepted these labels.

Thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. "I don't think you're a demon. Also, I don't think you're some sick, twisted monster. I don't think you're a heartless killer, and I don't think you deserve to die. You're not a humanoid typhoon. No, you're not any of the things people have said about you," you told him, words tripping and stumbling out of you.

His mouth fell closed, struggling with some kind of emotion, struggling to find composure. Suddenly he gasped. "No." One broken word. Barely even a sound. He was shaking his head, looking away from you. He turned to face the window. "No. No, no—"

"Vash—"

"No," he said. His voice was so soft and so scared you could scarcely hear it. "No, you don't know what you're saying—"

"You're not a monster!" you said. "And I love you exactly as you are. I don't even want you to fix yourself; I don't think you need to be fixed. People here love you as you are. Your name is the only thing that scares them," you told him.

You knew people had the right to fear him. You knew. Humanoid Typhoon certainly wasn't made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but rather from hurricanes, lightning, and all things that scared. Seeing dusty storms and raging winds, people thought he was scary. They feared he would harm them. In truth, he was only his own disaster, destroying himself for others. He was Vash. Your Vash. Vash the Stampede, and you loved him with all his fears and frights, dreams and nightmares, sins and scars.

You smiled and continued, "If they learn your name and start hunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Maybe tears filled his eyes. Possibly his breath was trapped in his chest. Perhaps his heart warmed a little. No one knew, not even the author. He had his head down, his chest rising and falling.

You sat behind him. A map of pain had covered his entire back. Thick, thin, uneven, and terrible, scars like roads leading nowhere. There were bolts and ragged slices, marks of torture he was not protected from.

Kindness must be difficult when all you'd received was hatred. Being able to see goodness in the world must be so hard when your only experience had been terror. You wanted to say something to him. Something profound, complete, and memorable, but there was nothing suitable. This planet was a broken bone that didn't set right, and Vash wanted to glue it back together. Alone, all by himself.

You two differed in this respect. Fearless and unafraid were two different things. He was fearless. He dared to outshine the sun, stare down a bullet, kiss death and walk away with his back unguarded. He would hold the whole world in his palms despite its bone-crushing weight, despite its sharp edges crusted with blood, if only he could stop it from falling apart. But you? You were fearful. Sometimes you couldn't breathe around the clot of fear lodged in your throat. The only way to lessen its weight on your tongue was to scream until no words came out, while the only way to chase away its shadows was never to close your eyes at night. You were unafraid of one thing, though —he could tear down the world and bury you alive under the weight of his guilt, yet you would follow him without hesitation.

Your eyes rested upon woven strands of sunlight, alighting softly upon his scarred skin. These honeyed arcing rays gave him a light glimmer that revealed his plant patterns, pulsing slowly and dimly. Something about the scene was so divine, and you felt the dawn rise from your heart every morning and reach the sky.

You hugged him from behind by bridging the gap between your bodies and leaned your cheek against his sun-kissed back. Your hands gently caressed his stomach and chest as your lips left kisses on his love reminiscences—one by one.

You could hear him breathing in and out. Unevenly. Yet he was silent. Hands clenched, knuckles white. Of course, he wanted you with a desperate need he had never known. But his regret, sins, and crimes were so overwhelming they consumed him. He thought, how could you be so kind to a thing like him?

Unaware of the voices in his mind, you dropped a kiss on his spine. You kissed the curve of his shoulder. His shoulder blades. Five kisses down his spine, each softer than the other one. For every little moment of pain he had ever felt in his life, you wanted to make it all go away. You kissed his neck, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, the ache spreading inside you, urging you to end his suffering.

Your words were heavy with sincerity when you said, "I don't care what everyone else thinks about you." You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, your breaths gently caressing his back. "Because you're the only good thing left in this world."

As his eyes widened, he breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "How can you tell such a thing this after all this?" His hand pointed to the window, to the news on the radio.

Standing on your knees, you kissed the hand caught between his gold locks. The same hand he always tried to cover its scar with a glove. Because the idiot thought his scars would be repulsive. The idiot. Your favorite idiot.

You didn't sit back. Keeping your head there, your nose buried in his hair, and your chest pressed to his back—this smell. You had never seen a sea, but you had heard about them. And you believed if there was ever to be a sea in this hell hole, he would smell like a sunny beach. Sweet, enveloping, and warm.

"That is—" your voice broke when you spoke. "That's what the family is for, Vash."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. He dropped his hand on his knee and sat still in place by the weight of your words. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with both sadness and happiness.

A family.

All this time, he thought you were with him all along because you didn't have a grasp on his sins, but now, he could see that you already knew everything. And despite all of this, you were still willing to forgive him and give him something he always wanted but never had without even requiring him to earn it or redeem himself.

You touched his arm and traced the tender skin with your fingertips. Scars everywhere. You kissed the back of his elbow. "I'm sorry for everything humans have done to you," you told him, and he took a shallow breath. "Forgive us." Another kiss. "Forgive me."

A delicate warmth filled Vash's heart and melted it into drops of warm honey that soothed the scars in his soul. He turned his head and stared at you with open, vulnerable eyes, a tight jaw, and tensed muscles. No one had ever apologized to him. According to his experience, he was usually the monster, the wicked one. The onus always was on him to make amends.

It stunned him how strange it felt. Up until now, he never thought he deserved forgiveness, let alone someone asking for it.

Running a tired hand across his face, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A joy filled his heart, causing him to feel heavy with something he wasn't even sure he could describe.

Gratitude, perhaps.

The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful. But for now, he didn't want to think about it. He simply just wanted to enjoy your proximity.

Your hand reached up to stroke the luminous curved shapes on his cheek, tracing them to the softness of the mole beneath his left eye. The look in those aquamarines breaking your heart. You couldn't bear to see his face covered in sorrow and guilt.

"You're a good man, my Vash," you said, your words soft, your hand gentle as you tilted his chin up toward your mouth. He was blinking fast, yet not denying. You whispered words on his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "Rem would've been proud of you," you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him once, tenderly.

He found himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melded his lips with yours. He sighed into your mouth, and you kissed him even more deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. You could taste the salt on your tongue. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made your flesh burn. You were uncertain whose they were as you continued to try and cling to him.

10:00 am – July 21st

The sheets slowly slipped and fell to the floor as Vash pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight, hardly able to breathe. When he exhaled and looked at you again, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things you had never seen before. His whole body seemed to be relaxed in relief. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a single, fraying thread. You.

And you promised yourself, at this moment, that you would hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain, the torture, and the suffering was gone, until he'd given a chance to live the kind of life where no one could ever hurt him this deeply ever again.

He touched your cheek. Soft, as if he wasn't sure if you were real. His four fingers caressed the side of your face gently before they slipped behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

You did so much with these lips, you thought. Touched, kissed, and pressed them against tender parts of his skin. You made promises, and the words they formed, the shapes and sounds they curved around, all for him.

Vash moved closer by just an inch. His free metallic hand cupped the other side of your face. He was holding you like you were made of crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands, he couldn't believe you were real.

Gone was the man with guns and bullets. These hands treasuring you had never held a weapon. They were perfect and kind, never touched by death. He took your hands and pressed your palms to his face. Tears must have welled up in your eyes when you closed them.

You whispered his name, and he breathed harder than you.

Could this be a dream?

You shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and he held you like no one had before. He wanted you. Seeing him cling to you as he might never let go did something to you, something heady, knowing that he might wish you, or need you, like this, made you want to protect him even though he didn't need your protection.

Gently, he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead. Gradually, his arms became the arms around your waist; his lips became the lips pressed against yours, his body the warmth you felt.

You weren't even breathing, but you were alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. The palms of his hands were rubbing the small of your back as he lifted you into his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, allowing him to kiss your neck, throat, and nipples.

You broke apart with his small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at him like a bonehead, your brain still too numb to figure out exactly how you two got here.

Tilting his head to a side, he pressed his lips against yours again, seeking you with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. His hands were threaded in your hair, his lips so soft, so urgent against yours, like fire and cinnamon exploding in your mouth.

Vash nibbled your bottom lip in a flash and pulled back just a little bit. Your body was flooded with heat and desire so intense you could hardly think when he parted his lips from you to sigh in your mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove you crazy.

Putting one hand under your neck, placing his mouth on your breast, and running his fingers down your back, he pressed your body closer, only to find something hard pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

While he avoided your gaze, he smiled sheepishly and tentatively touched your thighs with his hands. Because of what had happened, you knew he would probably feel embarrassed to ask for it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't give it to him. He deserved the whole world if you had the chance to provide for him. His markings were glowing softly when you squeezed him closer to yourself, holding him tighter.

Biting his lip and stifling his groan, his smart-ass hands slid up your legs and into your thighs. Soon, his lips reached your chest. Your body ached everywhere, tasting colors and sounds you didn't even know existed. His forehead was pressed against your chin, and your hands gripped his shoulders. He was hot, gentle, and somehow in a hurry.

You were beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way you were feeling right now. Nothing mattered anymore. You were left with only this moment: his mouth on your body, his hands on your skin, and his lust deep in his eyes, making you absolutely insane.

Your wetness was no longer a secret when he surrounded you everywhere. As he watched you, you reached down and adjusted his length against your slippery entrance over a few strokes. His pulse could be felt in your palm and soon inside of you.

Using both soft and hard hands, he gently grasped your hips and pulled you down toward him. As he entered, you gasped, every time surprised at his size, clinging desperately to his neck as he hitched your legs around his waist, his prosthetic arm settling beneath your thigh. You loved the feeling of him stretching you. You loved having him this close to you. You loved the way he manhandled you. You loved his hand around your neck and the little squeeze of his fingers around your nape.

His grip tightened when he sensed you were ready for him, and he started moving you up and down. You cried out and leaned your cheek to his nose, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He lifted your thighs, and you bit back the moan stuck in your throat. His mouth wouldn't let go of your skin, kissing you with an intensity that made you wonder why you hadn't died, caught on fire, or woken up from this dream yet. Then he returned his hands to your face and kissed you once, twice.

The room's silence was filled with your heavy breathing, your chest against Vash's. Your pulses hammered against each other. You felt his arms around you become unbearably tight as he yanked you up and down with even more force than before, hitting you in a place he seemed to know too well.

As his teeth caught your bottom lip momentarily, you pushed your nails to his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair to pull him into your mouth. He tasted so sweet. So hot and sweet. You kept trying to say his name, but you couldn't even breathe, much less say a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down, traveling quietly down your cheeks, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, against your tongue and saliva. As if he had found Adam's ale between million mirages of the desert, he stared at you, his eyes like fire in the water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile, uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lingering flavor of pleasure laced in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your head spun into oblivion.

Vash loved you…

His temple was leaned against yours when you took his earlobe between your teeth, stripped him to his bones, and ruined him from the inside out. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You were his. You, the one who knew if you left him alone at that moment, would fall into the depths of his own hell; if he'd slipped through your fingers, he would be gone, and no one could bring him back. You did not erase all his pain or offer to solve all his problems. You didn't fix everything that was broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. What mattered the most was that you stayed.

He loved you.

He loved you so much.

Grasping your soft hips, he buried his face against your shoulder and sped up. You were his undoing, taking him apart and putting him back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm came barreling at him. His hands glided on your back when you shuddered, your inner walls squeezing him so hard he couldn't prevent his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice—and then everything around you both disappeared until it was all just colors and light, the sun shines and oceans, apple trees, and blossoms.

Your eyes were still closed, and you felt his hands laced with yours, just to remind you that you had him here and that he was with you. Your partner in everything. His chest heaving, he buried his face in your neck, sweat covering his temples. Kissing him there, you inhaled the scent of his hair.

"You're my family too," you heard him whisper, his words etched into your soul as his lips moved against your skin. And you wished, more than ever, that you could capture moments like this and relive them forever.

12:50 pm – July 21st

You woke up with a smile, your skin still hot from the memory of your vile. You were cleaned with a wet towel, placed in bed with a kiss, and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares this time.

What time was it? You didn't know.

As you stretched your legs under the sheets, you realized your back was against Vash, his prosthetic arm resting on your pillow, the other tucked around your waist. Knowing he had held you this close warmed the pit of your stomach and made you feel so safe that you didn't ever want to move, but you had a thousand things to do today, but you never, ever wanted to move.

Truth be told, you loved these moments the most. The quiet contentment. Being enveloped by his naked body. You never felt closer to him than you did like this when there was nothing between you.

Today was a big day delayed by your nightmare and the sound of that stupid radio! There was no way you were going to let anything overshadow his birthday anymore. Even for a few hours, he deserved this celebration, this little distraction. He deserved to be happy, eat, and laugh.

You sighed, hating to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired. Slowly, you turned around in his arms. A smile tugged at your mouth as you watched him, amazed at how his presence could bring you such peace. He shifted again, burrowing deeper into the pillows, and you realized he must be exhausted.

Watching the movement of his throat, you breathed him in, running your hands along the deep, strong lines of muscle in his arm. His entire being felt raw. Powerful. Being a plant had something wild and terrifying about it; somehow, this knowledge only made you love him more. You traced the contours of his shoulder blades, then his spine. He stirred, but only briefly, and buried his face in your hair.

"Don't go," he whispered softly, pressing his nose to your scalp alongside his lips.

You tilted your head, gently kissing the column of his throat. "Vash," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "good."

You smiled. "Oh, but we should probably get out of bed. I promised Rosalina I'll help—"

A disapproving sound escaped his throat as he shook his head, deftly helping you turn around. He hugged you close again, your back pressed against his chest. Soft and husky, his voice was full of desire when he said, "C'mon, let me enjoy this. Feeling good."

"You don't want a cake?" you blurted out, but it certainly caught his attention.

You could feel he raised his head, stiffened and confused. "How come Rosalina's making me a cake?"

Did you hear correctly? Had he forgotten about his birthday? Did this day become neglected to the point where it was forgotten?

Turning around, you saw he was sitting, his body frozen and his heart probably pounding furiously. Getting him to attend his birthday would take more effort than you expected. Because he asked how you could possibly plan a party for him, why anyone would throw him a party, what if he didn't even like birthday parties, and so on. Still, you didn't fall short. Since the day he told you about Rem making them a cake for their birthday, you kept track of his birthday. The July incident wasn't going to overshadow his birthday. It was your vow to replace that memory with better ones. That forever and ever, you'd strive to drown out the darkness that had ruined his life.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow. When he swallowed, you noticed the gentle movement in his throat and moved your hand to his ear, your pinkie touching his earring, then tracing down his jawline. You didn't receive a rejection, but you didn't receive a yes, either. Why wasn't he saying anything? He had you on your worried until he clasped his hands over his face.

Your hand brushed against his undercut as you gently kissed his temple and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Vash?" you said, your words hardly a whisper. "Is everything alright?"

The reply took him a few seconds to come out, but when he finally did, he nodded. It was only once, but it was enough. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."

The feeling of relaxation washed over you as you exhaled. "If you don't want a—"

He held and squeezed your hand as he looked at you, his eyes round when he said, a little nervously, "what have I done," he whispered, his voice trembling, "to deserve you?"

Did you die of joy? Because he took your face in his hands and kissed you so passionately, it blew your mind. Your heart began to beat violently, and you didn't recognize yourself. You didn't recognize your hands, your bones, your heart. You felt new. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me and everything."

"It's very, very easy to love you, Vash," your lips might have said, but the words never left your lips. You didn't know what to do, so you reeled him in, kissed him, and lost yourself in his taste and feel, in the fantasy of what you might have. What you might be.

But wait! Didn't you know fate was a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever slept?

You blinked.

You blinked again, but this time for too long. You saw a flash of blood spewing inside your open mouth. Nausea returned with a swiftness that scared you. A breath was drawn, your fingers fluttering as you desperately tried pressing them against your stomach. Pain filled your eyes as you kept them open. Clenching your fists, you attempted to control spiraling thoughts.

However, nothing helped. Nothing helped. Nothing, you thought. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.

Where was Vash? Where were you?

Throughout your open eyes, terror oozed from your heart. You heard someone calling your name. A hand brushed lightly along your spine as you shivered suddenly at the unexpected sensation.

" …," the voice said, "do you … ?"

The warmth moved in only to meet the coldness of your skin. You felt it all. Again and again, a touch of his finger did pull you out of your nightmare.

A rustle of sheets caught your attention, and Vash pulled you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs stretched across the rumpled fabric. Wrapping his arm around you, he spread his hand along your back.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Turning carefully in the cradle of his arms, you pressed your forehead to his bare chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his rough gash.

"You okay?" he asked, his metallic fingers combing through your hair in a soothing act.

"Yes," you replied, forcing air into your lungs. You were breathing hard, head spinning as you held on to him. "Yes."

"Is something wrong, Elay?" He probably had lowered his head because his breath was touching your shoulder.

"Nothing," you claimed. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You didn't know why you were lying. You should have just told him, but you didn't know why you weren't.

Wait.

Actually, you knew.

You were waiting.

You were waiting to see if this shit would pass. It had to, because today was a special day. Because you were already exhausted, and the radio's sound was repeating in your ears. Because you didn't want to add another burden to his shoulders with your silly nightmare. Even more, it wasn't real. Just a figment of your imagination, and saying it out loud would make it sound more real than it really was.

Vash asked no further questions. He was more of an "if you love someone, let them keep their secrets to themselves " guy. He pulled you close, and you melted into him, grateful for his warmth and steady hold. You took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. A faint aroma of caramel lingered in your nostrils as you breathed in his skin's rich, heady scent. The minutes passed silently as you both listened to each other breathe.

01:45 pm – July 21st

It took a while, but your heart rate steadied.

You could feel it.

Here.

This.

Your bones against his bones. This was your home.

"What're you thinking?" His lips touched your neck, a graze that sparked, hot and cold, right down to your toes.

"Been thinking about you." You raised your head and looked at him. He was smiling, the unfaltering sun glinting in his eyes. You could see his fear, hopes, and love for you like a mirror to his soul in those mountain lake-colored spheres. Then there was something else as well—something like bliss. It was a faint glow, but it was there and made you so happy. You had blessed the blessing. He deserved happiness after everything he had been through. After all the horrors he had suffered alone.

"Me?"

As you closed the gap between you two again, you nodded against his chest. Nothing was said, but you could hear his heart racing until he exhaled. It was a heavy, uneven sound, as if he might have been holding his breath for too long.

Gently, you ran your hand along his back. "How long has it been since you celebrated your birthday?" you whispered.

"Hm?" He buried his face in your hair, and his nose glided over your scalp in what appeared to be caressing movements.

It didn't take a genius to figure out when he was ducking a question. You wiggled a little to loosen his grip and looked up. Your fingers ran through the soft, silky strands. The sight of him mesmerized you. His eyes were wide and bright. His lips soft and pale. He was perfect, bare, and beautiful, holding you in his arms. Sighing, you closed your eyes. "Let me ask it this way then," you said, "How many birthdays have you missed so far?"

Nothing came out of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. You felt him finally move. In a gentle caress, his prosthetic fingers touched your face. "150 birthdays," he whispered, his voice uneven.

Your spine tingled involuntarily. 150 years of solitude. Loneliness. Alone with himself. On this giant planet. Where was his home? Where were his friends? His lovers?

You knew he was so much better at being alone as if being alone came more naturally. He led a life of deliberate seclusion, and when occasional loneliness crept in, he knew how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts or work his way out. After all, there were always bars and saloons and strangers around.

You knew he wanted to carry the weight of life all alone, even the burden of those he once loved. It wasn't fair, though. You had to be allowed to help him carry it all. A frown formed on your face, and you inhaled, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! Happy birthday #3!..."

His metallic forefinger stopped your lips. Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was sad, sweet, and filled with love. You felt something thawed inside of you as you stared at him.

"You don't have to do this," he said as he separated his finger from your lips to brush away stray strands of hair from your face. A part of you wished his finger could stay there longer.

"Shut up and let yourself celebrate! We've got at least 150 birthdays to catch up on!"

He kissed your eye, and you felt his smile on your eyelid. His lips started moving tardily when he said, "I don't—"

"Shhhh! Since you interrupted me, I'm starting over!" you snapped and continued, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! …"

The smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, as if he was filled with so much joy that he hardly recognized himself. You couldn't recall the last time he smiled this much. It was the most pure, unburdened bliss you had ever experienced.

He held you the entire time you felicitated all his forgotten birthdays. You could see it in how he looked at you. You could feel his fears disappearing and his emotions becoming something else. Now, his touch was hot and electric against your skin. Your heart was beating faster and harder, and he didn't have to say anything. You could feel the temperature change between you.

"You," he said, staring at your mouth. He touched his nose to yours, and something inside you jolted to life. You heard your breath caught, your ears turning red, unbidden. "I love you," he whispered.

The words did something to you every time you heard them. They built something new inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "You know," you mumbled shyly, "It never gets old hearing you say that."

Leaning you back a little, he moved, his nose brushed the line of your jaw, and his lips touched your throat. You were holding your breath, terrified to move, to leave this moment.

"I love you," he said again.

Heat filled your veins. You could feel him in your blood, his whispers overwhelming your senses.

"Vash," you said. You wanted to talk to him about what happened hours ago. You knew you should've moved and snapped out of this but couldn't. You couldn't think. And then his hand brushed against your breasts. You breathed quickly, fighting against a sudden rush of pleasure.

It was impossible to pretend anything when he was this close to you. You knew he could feel how badly you wanted him. You could feel him, too. His heat. His desire. He made no secret of what he wanted from you. What he wanted you to do to him.

He kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you, one too cold, the other too hot. Your body shifted forward in his embrace as you took another painful, agonizing breath.

"I know you're worried," he said, his lips too close to yours and his hot breath in your mouth. "I know we have to talk, but—" He never finished that sentence. He kissed you as he reached down, trailing his fingers along the inner parts of your thighs, and the movement seared through you. Your vision went white. You heard nothing but the pounding of your heart, then you remembered.

"Vash? Um-I have to-ah," you panted, "she is waiting."

You could feel his smile as he whispered the word in your ear. His fingers were teasing your groins. "Please." And you were gone.

One hand kept your head steady, the other roamed around your loins, and he kissed and melted you. Your eyes met his, and the feeling threatened to drown you. He kissed you, and every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

Holy Molly!

He eft his kisses everywhere like he knew, like he knew how desperately you needed this, needed him, needed this comfort and release.

Like he needed it, too.

Taking hold of his neck, you raised yourself up to kiss his nose, cheeks, and lips. The line of your bodies was welded together. You felt yourself dissolving, becoming pure emotion as he parted his lips, teased you, and breathed into your mouth. "I love you," he said, gasping the words.

He kissed the top of your shoulder, and his artificial hand wandered over your body, down your back, cupping your back side, lingering on your upper thighs like he wanted to memorize the shape of you, always leaving you in awe of how gentle he was. Your muscles tightened with longing, and you were surprised at how much you wanted him.

Again.

So soon.

However, you had to stop this.

"I'd better get dressed," you said, pulling yourself back, grabbing sheets, and covering yourself with them. "I've got stuff to do."

A grin spread across his face as he watched you as if he could sense your frustration. You crawled from his lap, the bedsheets catching under your knees and making you lose your composure. Like a sneaky fox, he couldn't resist taking advantage of the moment. He yanked the rest of the sheet away from you and tucked you underneath him. His weight pinned you to the mattress, a knee intentionally jammed between your legs and slowly grinding you down.

"Here's what I want for my birthday," he said, kissing your parted lips. He knew what he was doing and knew you couldn't comprehend his words. "I have this idea. Just hear me out; I think that maybe you should consider being naked all the time. I mean, just always. Okay?"

"Okay. I have to—" What were you saying? He had his mouth all over you, sucking at your breasts, licking your throat, his fingers going straight to your sensitive spots.

The moment he got there, you knew you wouldn't let him go, even if he wanted to. So, you needed to gather your wits and act before it was too late.

Think. Think. Think.

"Vash!" you gasped, pushing him up with your hand as much as possible. "I know you're going nuts like a hunk in heat," you said, holding his cheeks between your hands and staring at his big downturned eyes. "I gotta shower and go to the saloon so you can meet me there at eight, okay, good boy?" You tapped on his shoulder.

With raised eyebrows, Vash got off you, but you remained trapped between his knees. Although he crossed his arms and pretended to be mad, you could see him fighting back a smile. It was amazing how that poor piece of sheet managed to cover his hips; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to focus on his face.

"You were going to take a shower without me?" he said sternly.

You couldn't figure out what to say for a moment and then carefully asked, "would you like to join me?"

Considering your offer, he gazed at you, up and down, with a sweet, secret smile. The look in his eyes was enough to persuade you to agree to anything. You would do anything for this man if he asked. Even if he didn't bother to ask.

"Vash."

Your heart was heavy as you whispered his name, filled with emotion. You went still as he hovered over you, gently mouthing your nipples. His kisses grow more intent, leaving a trail of fire across your chest, down your torso, and rushing through your veins.

Suddenly, you forgot why you were even in such a hurry.

Your hands slipped around his neck, and you reeled him in. He felt incredible against you, his body fitting perfectly. You tilted his face up, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling your blood with dangerous speed.

As one hand held him steady, the other skimmed the smooth skin of your waist, gripping your hip hard. He parted your legs with his thigh, hearing you make a desperate sound deep in your throat, and it did something to him, to feel and hear you like that, to be assaulted by your pleasure and desire. It drove him crazy.

Vash buried his face in your neck, and his hand moved up to feel your breasts' tender skin, hot, soft, and sensitive to his touch. He wanted your body under his hands, the scent of your skin, and the light whisper of your hair against his. Licking your earlobes, he tried to ignore the strain in his muscles and the hard, desperate pressure driving him towards you, toward madness.

An ache was expanding inside you and demanding more, craving him to flip you over and lose yourself in you. You clung to him, your eyes half-lidded, your face flushed. Your breathes were heavy when you said, "take me, Vash."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time, hunching over from the effort of inhaling and exhaling. He said nothing and only looked at you carefully from the top, drinking you in. His pulse was wild, his mind racing. There was no way he could refuse you.

02:50 pm - July 21st

Vash stepped aside, and you pushed the sheets away when he asked you to get up. Soon you were standing in the middle of the room as he had demanded.

He couldn't look away from you and probably couldn't even hear himself think over his heart beating fast like a thud against his skull. Pinning you against the closest wall, he kissed you wild enough for you never to forget why he was called the stampede. His fingers touched every everywhere. Every bend and arc. Every pit and hole. Leaving gentle slaps and smacks on the soft skin of yours.

It was lovely to feel your soft curves against his rough edges, and somehow, the paradox between the smoothness of your bodies pressed against each other made the scene even more surreal. In order not to miss any precious time, he picked you up, and you gasped, shocked, and scrambled to hold on for dear life. He pushed the bathroom door aside with his shoulder and carried you into the shower.

He needed you. Needed this. Now. You could see it in his eyes, in the upward arch of his erection.

He drew a deep, unsteady breath before switching the tap on.

A short scream tore through your throat.

You two got soaked in cold water as he pressed your front against the shower wall, losing himself in you like never before. His kisses were more profound, more desperate, and his hands less considerate than before. The heat more explosive, and everything between you wild, raw, and vulnerable. His mouth devoured you. He had his lips all over your body, his tongue tasting new places.

With the cold tiles touching your breasts, a sensation of pleasure spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it, the bottom half of your body urging you to press against him more deeply and fully. He had to hear the pleas of every cell in your body because his next thrust was so intense that you had to hold on to the wall with your palms to steady yourself while your cheeks pressed more and more against the cold ceramic as he had his way with you.

You lost track of time.

You had no idea how long you had been here. You didn't know how long he had gone haywire in you. Your knees were starting to shake when he turned you around, and your eyes fell on his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and clumping eyelashes blinking slowly. You considered yourself lucky for not only seeing such a marvel but also tasting him and feeling him.

With such hunger, he kissed your lips like he hadn't had them in years. You felt the hard tiles press against your back as he pushed himself inside, without hesitating to move up and down. Over and over again, you were lauded, his panting echoing within four walls.

So many times that you wanted to open your mouth to protest, but every time he took one turgid nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through your blood as his teeth scraped over the end of one, and you moaned instead of complaining. You couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt to feel him inside you, his tongue twirling around your other breast.

The pressure was built. You were consumed by the need to reach the climax in every action. Your stomach muscles were tightening and quivering.

He moved his hands from your hips to your head, tangles of wet hair wrapping around his fingers as he pulled you upwards for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past your lips, and he increased his speed.

God! Nothing had ever tasted as good as Vash, you thought. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slipped through you.

His hands clenched tighter in your hair, and his teeth bit the flesh of your neck, but you barely noticed, barely caring about the hickey it would leave as he threw back his head, groaning your name. The sight of him in the throes of his peak drove you to the edge, your inner muscles clamping around his hardness, pulling him in deeper.

You cried out, clutching his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails dug into his skin, and your screams were muffled against his chest. The plunk of shower water running between your feet could be heard as your body shook, and he leaned his forehead against your head.

His hot released load was dripping and sliding down on your thighs when you collapsed into his arms, feeling weak and unsteady. He held you close to himself, tight yet so gentle, stroking your wet hair with his fingers and leaving small pecks wherever he could reach. "We should eat something," he said, kissing the curve of your shoulder and the sides of your neck.

You were intoxicated by the pure, stunning power of his emotions, endless waves of love and desire, love and kindness, love and joy, love and tenderness.

So much tenderness.

You pressed your cheek against his chest and held him as he braced himself against the wall. Your bodies were wet and heavy with feeling, your hearts pounding with something more powerful than you had ever imagined possible.

Water was dripping from the mess of his hair. So gorgeous, you thought. Then you forgot where you were and what you were going to do. Your arms and limbs trembled slightly, and he was too terrified to let you go.

Too in love to let you go.

07:15 pm - July 21st

As night fell, the blue haze of the day lifted and revealed the stars brightening the sky, shining like beams of happiness, appearing still as an old photograph. The wind blew Vash's hair into a tousled bun.

He walked out of his favorite shop and leaned against the wall with a big bag of donuts and an even bigger smile. Yeah, he perfectly knew he would eat cake, but eating donuts had nothing to do with it: a warm-up, just appetizers.

His eyes followed the long shadows of townies milling around under the flickering lamppost lights, even though he couldn't make out any faces from such afar. He liked this town. It was so small that his typhoon hadn't yet found it. Or maybe because he was a stranger here. Nobody knew him, and everybody was safe from the curse his name carried around.

Everybody but you.

You already had been spelled by those fifteen letters.

V-A-S-H-T-H-E-S-T-A-M-P-E-D-E

Taking a look around, he tried to find a clock on a building or something. The birthday boy didn't want to be late. This and, of course, the words you uttered before you left the house:

"Eight o'clock, Vash. Don't forget! Don't be late! Don't be early and wear that white shirt. See you there!"

He sighed and took a donut from the bag, careful not to stain his white shirt with his clumsiness. It smelled great. What a heavenly aroma, smelling like honey. This and you and this town. It sure felt good to see happy people around.

Without further ado, he took a bite of his sugar-coated donut.

He expected it to taste incredible and super tasty, like being alive, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of numbness in him. The weight of an unknown worry was heavy against his heart.

A muffled whistle-like sound echoed in the distance, followed by several. Another shot rang out, this time sounding like it was meant. Suffocating silence, creaking doors, and screams that tore the sky open.

He felt strangely dull, as if his connection with his body had been cut off. The bag fell to the ground, and the donuts scattered around. People were crying, weeping, but all he could hear was the wind's wails in his ears, slapping sharply against his face.

He took uncertain steps forward. The area outside the saloon looked like more than a graveyard. It was worse than he had expected. There were injured people everywhere; some collapsed on the ground.

From where he stood, he counted two men, one woman, and a child dead. Open eyes, mouths agape, fresh blood still dripping down limp bodies. Where were you? Something about that realization struck fear into his veins.

The horrifying possibilities flashed through his mind. His mind was blank as to what had happened. Were you okay?

Vash looked over the crowd, still staring, waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to find him. But you weren't anywhere to be found. In the chaos, he ran from one to another, people scattered around, and he didn't see you. The terror of this moment kicked him in the gut.

So many thoughts were tangled in his head that he couldn't untie the insanity. He glanced back at the doors you were supposed to come out, opening it with a smile.

He waited. He waited longer than was reasonable. Then he called you. Quietly at first, then louder. He shouted your name. His chest was being torn apart by fear, squeezing his heart. A part of him was afraid to speak the words aloud, fearful of making them true.

His legs felt like they had been formed from fresh clay, like he was moving through a fog. His voice reached everyone, pleading this time, running forward until the doors were in his line of sight.

"Is she in?" he asked, but no one answered. Everybody was frozen by the agony of the moment. All that could be heard were silent weeps and the wind howling.

Vash gulped, his throat all dry, and walked in; his lips parted, his eyes wide and horrified. The blood in his veins all ice.

Pain.

It began at his feet, bloomed up his legs, unfurled in his stomach, and worked its way up to his throat, only to explode behind his eyes. The sudden scream ripped itself from his lungs. It wrenched free from his chest without warning, without permission, and it was a scream so loud, so hard and violent, it broke his back. His hands were pressed against his knees, his head half bent.

Echoes of his misery would never be lost in the wind or carried away by the clouds but would always live between these walls. Forever.

His voice was unfamiliar to him. The horror, shock, and dread that flooded his body was something he had never felt — never known before, not like this.

The popped balloons on the walls. A half-ruined cake on the counter. Blood-stained confetti all around. A shoeless foot lying on the floor. Locks of tousled hair slipped from the makeshift shroud.

The numbness was now merciful, at least for a few moments. Then, everything crashed.

Vash fell next to the body. The knowledge rushed up in him, choking off his breath. Another scream tore its way out. Then another, and another. It felt as if his very essence had been ripped from him.

He pulled you into his arms, clutching you tightly, barely able to breathe. His fingers seized your hair and yanked it from your face. The golden strands of his hair fell onto your bloody face. You were called over and over, but it didn't seem like anything more than a sound. His pleas were like commands, begging you to open your eyes, but you ignored them as if playing a nasty prank.

Vash held both of your hands in his. There was no touch. All he felt was an empty coldness. The silence grew even louder, consuming him like a pitch-black shadow. Biting his lip, he tasted a faint metallic taste on his tongue. The desperation in his expression, the grief carved into his features, the way he looked at you as if he were about to pass the gates of hell and utter his last farewell.

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh one of those strange, high-pitched, delusional laughs that marked the end of sanity. Because this world, he thought, had a terrible sense of humor. It always seemed to mock him, making his life more miserable and ruining his dreams by destroying everything he ever loved.

You were dead. This pain was truly real.

Vash broke apart. Sobs cracked open his chest and cried until the pain spiraled and peaked; he bawled until his head throbbed and his eyes swelled. His fingers dug into your back as he called, desperate for a sign of hope. Your hollow body was clutched to his heart, and he felt the injustice roared through him. The feeling fractured him apart. His forehead pressed against your cheek, and his mouth trembled as he whispered, "C-Come ba-ck." The words fell apart. He could only mumble stuttering sounds.

He kissed your knuckles briefly. Would you have blushed if you were still breathing, whining about how cheesy he was being? He could only imagine your reactions now.

Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in an effort to make them stop. He sat there unmoving for quite some time with choppy breathing and watery eyes.

09:00 pm - July 21st

Things were in a state of disarray in his vision. People were coming in with dropped shoulders and muffled weeps in the air. Someone approached and touched his shoulder for comfort, and a fierce unknown rage emerged in him. He could kill the man there but would have to let go of you, and he couldn't.

Vash turned his face back and held you so tightly like you would be able to feel the faint beat of his heart. He wept, cradling you, and he wouldn't move nor speak a word other than your name. It was like seeing the sun through the water. His tears fell, but you wouldn't be able to kiss them away this time.

"How dare you mourn her!" Someone bent over him. "You killed her!" Weak fists landed on his back but hurt him more than torture and shots. "She died because of you! You bring misfortune and destruction everywhere you go!" yelled Rosalina with a devastated voice.

Words, he thought, were such unpredictable creatures. No gun, knife, army, or enemy could ever be more powerful than a sentence. Blades may cut and kill, but words would stab and stay, burying into the future, digging and failing to rip his skeletons from his flesh. These weren't nice things to say. Not now. Not after what he was going through. Not when his white shirt was covered in your blood, and his hands burned with the bit of warmth left in your body.

Vash continued to hold you, silent and steady, even as the tears receded, even when he began to tremble. He had you tight as his body shook, held you close when the tears started anew, held you in his arms, and stroked your hair, whispering, "Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me." His voice was a terrible thing, cracked and broken.

He felt guilty. Anyone who got close to him was doomed to die. He thought his actions and inactions always took away his loved ones. Oh, stubborn, stubborn Vash! Of course, he would blame himself for something that had nothing to do with him.

The once happy eyes of Rosalina spilled hot tears on his shirt. "For two years, you lived among us, looked into our eyes every day, and lied about who you are, Vash the Stampede!"

Several gasps were heard from the crowd, followed by whispers filling the air.

Vash the stampede was here.

Chaos.

Questions flew, and weeps were muffled. Everyone was shocked, horrified, freaking out. You had long been forgotten, he thought.

"Is he the most wanted Vash the Stampede?"

"Were there raids in the saloon because of him?"

"The bounty hunters were after the money on his head?"

"They shot us and ran away because of this man?"

"This guy really had us fooled!"

"Is this true?"

Vash's reality was too broken, too distracted to process these kinds of talks. This horrible instant was one mess of insanity in his mind. He couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't answer a word to anyone and just stroked your cold cheek with as much gentleness as he could.

Someone shouted, "What's the hell's the matter with you? Say something. At least make some excuse!"

"Shame on you for bringing danger to our town!"

"We've heard enough of your crying!"

"At least have the decency and go die like a man!"

"No normal human being could cause all these horrible things! He had to be a monster! Who else could have been responsible?"

"Did you feel some of the pain of people who died because of your reckless behaviors?"

He was dying, he thought. He must be. He thought he knew what death was like, but he must have been wrong because this was a whole different kind of dying—a whole different kind of pain.

"That girl died protecting this demon?"

"She knew about the humanoid typhoon all this time." The man gulped and pointed at your dead body. "Our loved ones are dead and hurt because of her stupid devotion to this walking disaster!"

The scene was quite unbelievable, horrifying. His mind reeled, incapable of comprehending or processing what he was hearing. Everything in him came to a halt while his thoughts caught up. It was for him that you died. The shock brought a quietness, a moment to gird his soul for what would come. Truth poured gasoline on the spark of denial in his belly, burning him alive. It fashioned itself into a knife and stabbed him in the eye. And the funny thing was, he didn't want to do anything to stop it. Anguish was all that remained of you; he embraced it with all he was. He deserved it. So he bled with a smile on his face, wishing the pain to end him this time.

"If that self-righteous whore had revealed his whereabouts, not only would she be alive now, but the others wouldn't be dead either!"

Blackness seemed to press against his eyes, ears, and throat. He couldn't breathe, hear, or see clearly, and the suffocation of the moment was so terrifying that he was almost sure he had lost his mind.

How many insults can one person take before throwing in the fucking towel? For him, that number was infinite, but for you, he wouldn't allow even one.

He stood up and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. He pointed a gun at the infamous criminal, but Vash ripped the gun out of his hand. "What did you say about her?" he asked with a voice like a rusty saw that wanted to cut the bone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning in absolute rage. Nobody had seen him like this. Not once. People were so used to his calm and kind demeanor that this side of him scared them. If they wanted a typhoon, they'd get one. He was fortified with a new kind of anger, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowered him and forced him to stand still.

The man was trembling in his grip. "N-nothing," he finally said. Vash's pulse was racing, breathing heavily, almost like he would burst. The muscles in his hand tensed, causing him to crack his knuckles. Almost like a blazing inferno, his blood boiled in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was mainly angry with himself, but that wouldn't stop his urge to hunt each and every single one of those bounty hunters, just to make sure they suffered and felt a lot of pain, just like he felt. No longer did he want to show sympathy to anyone. Maybe he was really a monster, wasn't he?

"If they learn your name and start haunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Recalling your words, his eyes widened, and his fist loosened. The man's face was devoid of color. Vash tried to read his eyes for something but saw nothing but terror in the end. He was afraid.

No.

Your race was merciless. How could they say such a thing about one of their own? This man probably deserved the worst, but you didn't want Vash to be cruel, only to be kind. And he couldn't do this to you. Because if he did and an afterlife existed, you'd probably be the only sad person in heaven right now.

Dropping the man on the floor, Vash crushed his gun in his hand and tossed it away. The stranger was groaning and hunching over when he returned to you.

It was the first time Rosalina had seen him like this, her brain unable to digest or process this information. Unlike the man she knew, this one had cold, sharp eyes only focused on you. The look on his face was different. Scary, even. Somehow that worried her even more. She might be sad for you, even hate her people for having talked disparagingly about you; maybe she would give them a piece of her mind and grieve your loss. Maybe. Right now, though, her child's safety was her top priority, and this blood-stained man didn't look very stable.

"Listen, we don't want to die! Leave here and never come back!"

Vash sat by your side, helpless, as if something had broken inside him and all his emotions had poured out. When you left him alone, did you take some part of him with you?

"Get her out of this town. This disaster would've never happened if you hadn't stumbled into this town. She'd still be alive," Rosalina said firmly, staring at your peaceful face like you were in a deep sleep.

Vash didn't answer or even glance at the woman who wanted to help you celebrate his birthday. Like an orphan, he pulled you impossibly close, your bodies soldering together. He pondered Rosalina's words and the night he saw you and wondered whether your life would have been different if he hadn't met you. Who was even capable of answering this? As he whispered your name and begged you for forgiveness, his tears washed the blood from your cheeks, and Rosalina felt something inside her die. As she watched him willingly take all blame upon himself alone, as if he was already familiar with this feeling, she felt something break apart inside her.

Vash resembled his wanted posters now. A tall man with blond hair covered in red, but this time, it was your blood instead of his famous coat. His hands were trembling so hard he couldn't even recognize them anymore. Even so, he picked you up, cuddling you in his arms, only to notice the hickey on your neck from hours ago. Pain cramped his joints, breaking away every single bone in his body. He wanted to shriek through the sky; he wanted to fall to his knees again and sob into the ground. He didn't know why the agony wasn't finding an escape through his tears.

"Think way back. Remember that story I told you? About the man that found a blank ticket that could take him anywhere he wanted? That man is all of us. Where you go is yours to choose. You'll always have that ticket in your pocket, no matter what darkness life throws at you. When you're ready, write down the destination. I promise you. You'll be alright."

He wished Rem was right, but there was no such concept as happiness in this world. There was only endless strife, destruction, and death. There was only loneliness, pain, and regret. Whatever he did, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he wished with all his heart to make things right, life always had a way of taking everything from him.

It seemed like Vash the Stampede's life had peaked, and nothing that came after you would ever matter to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you, but he didn't want any after you. You were the light he never knew he needed. He was lost in the darkness, wandering life without direction. Then he found you, and you brought him warmth and light. You were the one who saved him. Twice and he couldn't do the same.

As he walked forward, he pleaded with his bones to remain steady, to carry him through the rest of the day and into the rest of his meaningless life. He passed through the crowd as if he had never been a part of them. The sand dragged under his feet, his knees weak, but he held you tight and walked away. His footprints grew smaller and smaller until there was only the empty silence of a long, lonely night.

Let's let him be for now. Everyone deserves to be left alone for a moment or two, right? Be that as it may, he always lost his most precious ones on his birthdays. Maybe it would have been better if he had never been born so that he would not have to endure so much grief alone. Or perhaps it was the way it was so we could be part of his life.

Author note: My real world had grown so dark that I didn't want to live in it. That's why I escaped and spent the day in a world darker than mine. Please accept my sincere apologies for dragging you down here with me ^_^

If you have anything to say, don't be shy to use ASK and the comment sections.

Disclaimers: This fan-written story contains quotes from "The Song of Achilles", "King Killer Chronicles", "Shatter Me" series and "Reminders of him" books, "Hamlet" play, and "I am unafraid with him" poem by pencap on Tumblr.

The arts are from "Trigun Stampede" anime.

[ambswoso]

invisible string - leah williamson

hi lovelies.

basically i’m in the process of writing a leah williamson fic but it’s going to be on wattpad because no matter how hard i try i can’t write short fics.

it’s a friends to lovers slow burn with a hell of a lot of pining. i just wanted to add a snippet of a chapter here and see what everyone thinks.

it’s only a small snippet but i’ve wrote a lot more already.

“Hey beautiful.” I heard him down the phone.

“Hi, you okay?”

“Yeah just checking up on my girl.” I could hear his smile down the phone. “And i just wanted to tell you that I probably won't be here when you get back tomorrow.”

“Oh, why?” i frowned.

“Just got to help dec with some stuff tomorrow afternoon and evening, nothing special.” He brushed off.

“Okay, well let me tell you about what Sarina said in the meeting ear-” I started.

“Actually babe, I don't really have time to talk, I just wanted to let you know about tomorrow.” he said, sounding preoccupied.

“Oh, well I love you, I'll see you maybe tomorrow.”

“Yeah erm probably not. Bye baby.” and he hung up.

Taking a moment, I gripped the sink and inhaled deeply trying to get the feeling in the pit of my stomach to go away. Something felt off about that phone call, but something felt off in almost every other phone call we've had for about 6 months. I looked in the mirror and painted a smile on my face in case any of the girls were still in my room.

Luckily, Leah was the only one left.

“You okay?” she asked, as she put her phone down next to her on the bed.

“Yeah I'm fine.” I started to tidy up from where some of the girls had left cushions or cups. “I’m just tired, you know. Forgot how intense everything is here.”

I finally looked up to Leah’s eyes following me around the room. She was looking at me in a way only Leah did, a way that I didn't even have the words to describe.

“Can I just have a cuddle?” I asked her, my voice breaking half way through my question.

She didn't say anything, she didn't have to. She just held her arms out, inviting me in. I lay down virtually on top of her and wrapped my arms around her waist whilst hers went to my hair.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she whispered.

“No, can you just stay here for a minute?” I said, really fighting to hold back the tears I knew were brewing.

“You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried.”

[animehideout]

Hello!! can you do gojo x dumb but kind reader?

like reader could be playing a game and someone starts bragging to her about how they won and she just like "Oh okay well I think you were really good! you deserve it:D"

Like she can making anyone who was insulting her feel bad in seconds

and gojo sometimes calls u dumb or makes joke that you don't understand so you think he's serious or calling you dumb so you start crying and he has to make it up to you (^o^)

Please and thank you lots of fluff as well!!!

Gojo Satoru X Dumb but Kind Fem! Reader

a/n: thanks anon for this request, and sorry for the late update 🫶🏻

ps: I'm working on all the requests, sorry for taking too long to post all of them, but there are a lot of requests + working on Wattpad so thank you for your understanding

It became a weekly routine for you to gather in the Jujutsu high school common room, playing games together to unwind and have some fun, aiming to relieve stress of the missions. Occasionally, students from Kyoto high schools joined in for friendly competitions.

Gojo, was always there, he has always enjoyed the competitive spirit during these sessions.

The air was full of laughter and cracking jokes every now and then. You were quietly playing by yourself in a corner, minding your own business. But, your peace had to be interrupted by none other than Mai. She's always eager to tease and make fun of you without any apparent reason. She enjoyed showing off, knowing you wouldn't fight back. You're just too kind for this world.

She approached you and everyone in the room knew what she's about to say, a smirk revealing her intentions.

"Watcha doing, Y/n? Oh, you're still there. I don't think you made any progress. You see, I already won that game—all the levels."

Her aim was clear: to make you feel weak, dumb and like a loser. However, you excelled at turning insults into lessons in kindness. Without missing a beat, you paused your game, flashed a smile, and responded,

"Oh, wonderful! You did well Mai; you deserve it."

It's Mai we're talking about, so she wouldn't feel bad, but rather embarrassed. She continually attempted to bring you down, but always faces your kindness every time. Not only her, but others often underestimated your abilities, often teasing you about it and calling you names.

Perhaps because it takes you a bit longer than others to understand something, but that's completely normal. People are just mean.

"Hey, why don't you compete with her?" suggested one of them.

"Whaaat?. She'd probably get her ass beaten in less than 3 seconds," exclaimed Mai's best friend.

"I think Mai is a formidable opponent; she's brilliant," you responded with a friendly smile, shifting your focus back to your game.

They exchanged glances, attempting to provoke you, but couldn't. Your kindness often shields you, either because you don't fully grasp their intentions to bully you or because you don't take them or their words too seriously. After all, why let someone your age calling you dumb make you feel sad?

However, this is not the case with Gojo Satoru.

You take him way too seriously, hanging on to each word as if it were truth. You know it's his nature to be playful and teasing, but his occasional jokes have a different impact on you. Despite this, you've never dared to confront him. Instead, you've worn a fake smile, blinking away tears. But today was different; it became your breaking point.

Finally, Mai left you alone, granting you some peace to play without disturbance. While others were busy competing and laughing, you didn't notice Gojo standing right behind you. A small mistake slipped into your gameplay, one that could have been easily avoided, but you couldn't help it.

"That was a dumb move, Y/n!" Gojo exclaimed, startling you.

"Huh?"

"That mistake could have been easily avoided, but you had to be dumb as usual" he added, rolling his eyes.

A lump formed in your throat, tears threatening to fall.

"I-I was just—" you stuttered.

"You've gotta practice if you want to be like your friends. I'm not only talking about this game but real life too" he added.

Unable to respond, your eyes remained fixed on the game in front of you. They were red from holding back tears, and you didn't want him to see.

Gojo then stood in the center of the common room and said,

"Hey, guys, listen to this joke. Why did that kind girl try to tell a joke about time travel?" He started , and when they asked why, he said, "Because she thought it was about fixing all her past misunderstandings. Turns out she couldn't grasp the punchline in any timeline."

The room erupted in laughter.

"That was a good one" said one of the students.

You stood there feeling out of place, realizing the joke was about you from the way everyone laughed and pointed.

Overwhelmed, you excused yourself from the crowded room, seeking comfort in the garden. The weight on your chest felt unbearable, and tears were threatening to fall. Gojo, sensed your distress when you left the room, mentally cursed himself, his joke might have gone far. So he decided to follow you.

He found you on the stairs, tears streaming down your face as you gazed at the trees.Concerned, he approached,

"Hey Y/n, are you okay?"

It was time to confront him. Keeping your focus on the trees, your voice cracked as you spoke,

"Why do you always do that? Make fun of me in front of everyone? Is it fair to call me dumb for the slightest mistakes?" Frustration overflowed.

Gojo's playful side vanished, replaced by sincerity and seriousness,

"I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry if it seemed that way. I didn't realize it was affecting you like this."

Wiping away your tears, you replied,

"Giving no reaction and faking a smile doesn't mean it doesn't affect me. I'm just good at hiding it."

He felt really bad, realizing that he took it too far this time and that his jokes and teasing had been making you sad all the time.

"Why do you even do it?" you asked again.

"I thought it was all good and fun, just like with everyone else. I was trying to lighten the mood. I didn't know it bothered you that much. Sorry about that, princess. I'll make it up to you."

"Nah you don't have to" you resisted,

but he insisted,

"No, I want to." Standing up, he exclaimed, pulling you close.

With his thumbs, he wiped your tears and tucked your hair behind your ears, whispering,

"Let me fix it. I'm sorry for making you feel that way. You're a kind soul. Would you give me a chance?"

You're too kind to turn him down so you nodded.

"come on show me that precious smile of yours here you go princess oh I love that sweet smile I'll make sure it never leaves your face"

To say the least, he made you feel significantly better. His comforting gestures were genuine and sincere. you could feel him pulling you into a warm, big hug.

You're precious to him, and teasing is his way of expressing love.

"You're too good for this world Y/n!!"

He realized that sometimes words even in jest, could cut deeper than intended. He promised to be more careful, acknowledging that people might not see through good intentions, since people can't read minds.

So it's always better to speak something positive or remain silent.

if anyone treats you with disrespect, make sure to defend yourselves pookies. Never let anyone calls you dumb or underestimates you. You're too precious, you're unique, don't let people bring you down! speak up and defend yourselves 🫶🏻💪🏻

[maltesejjong]

after being ia for so long, and losing the passwords to my original tumblr and wattpad accts, i am happy to say i am BACK, even if you don’t know who i am lmao. For now, imma be doing reposts of my old tumblr and wattpad posts before i start new content. Enjoy!

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

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What’s Really Going On?

Summary: you and you boyfriend Minho have been together for a while now. Years, as a matter of fact. There’s no reason for there to be secrets, especially when it comes to your body. But after missing an appointment you had been anticipating and tension from an argument nights prior still brewing, the truth comes spilling out

WARNINGS: dom!minho, afab!reader, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please y’all don’t be stupid), use of traffic light system, fingering (reader receiving), swearing, mentions of pregnancy complications, i think that’s it? Please lmk if i missed anything

Wc: 5971

MINORS DNI, THIS CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT

5:30 pm

You sigh and pocket your phone. Fifteen minutes. He's fifteen minutes late.

Of course, he's been late before, but never like this.

Fifteen minutes, you normally let slide. You just can't imagine that he'd be late when today is so important.

"Y/n! Babe!"

You turn at the sound of your name, and somewhere in you, even though it's not fair, you think eighteen minutes.

Nevertheless, you pocket your frustration and smile the smile only he can draw from you.

"Minho!"

He comes up to you, putting his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. "I'm so sorry, baby. Traffic was horrible," he explains.

You understand, of course. It's a random Wednesday, but a major band is in town, and 500 lucky people in the area got free tickets.

But that isn't why today is so important to you.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" You ask, slightly miffed that he ignored your suggestion to stay the night with you, so you would both be on time.

Minho doesn't answer, but you're sure you know what he's thinking. "Babe," you say, holding his arm to make him look at you, " I'm not mad, okay? It was just a bit...much." You bite down in the apology trying to jump from your lips, knowing it could just do more damage.

"What?" He looks slightly confused, as if he forgot the argument you two got in a few days ago. "Oh," he says as the memory resurfaces, "I know. I'm just thinking. Nothing bad, y/n. Just work stuff."

"Okay..."

You arrive your appointment with ten minutes to spare, feeling thankful for the cop that had created a barricaded lane for people not going to the concert, making it easier to navigate the traffic-choked streets of your usually quiet city.

"Wait here," you whisper to Minho. "Hi," you say as you approach the lady behind the desk, "I have an appointment with Mia Loffe."

The secretary, who you've never seen a day in your life at Mia's, types something on her keyboard. "Of course... Let me see... Okay, what's your name, dear?"

You swallow the reaction trying to escape at being called "dear" by someone so young. "Y/n Bang."

"Bang... Bang..." she mumbles to herself, searching what must be a busy schedule. You know Mia's been slammed with work, but she made sure there there was at least an hour for you to come in.

You even booked an appointment, something you never do with Mia, just in case.

"Okay, um, Ms.Bang?" Dread fills your stomach. "It says here that some things had to be rescheduled, but Ms. Loffe has maybe ten minutes, if you'd like to pop back there real quick."

"I, uh... No, that's alright," you say, knowing that Mia is probably getting ready for her next appointment. You don't hold it against her for not letting you know that between last night and today, there was a shift in schedule. "Can I leave a message with you? I don't want to call her while she's working. Will you please just tell Mia to call me when she's not busy?"

The secretary scratches the note onto a pieces of paper and sticks it onto her computer. "Of course. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No," you say, trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "No, thank you though. Have a nice day."

"You, too, Ms. Bang."

You round the corner to see Minho scrolling through his phone. "C'mon," you say quietly.

Minho looks up at you. "Hey." He stands up. "Did Mia kick you out or something?"

You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedale, so i'm comine back another You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedule, so I'm coming back another day." You can't help but feel annoyed at your boyfriend for his lateness. Mia had even said to make sure you were there at least thirty minutes beforehand, just in case. This, you feel, is largely Minho's fault.

Minho picks up that you don't really want to talk, and doesn't pry as you drive back to your place together.

"Babe," Minho says softly once he's closed your front door, "What's wrong?"

You keep your back to him, trying to contain your feelings. "Nothing, Minho. I'm just a little tired," you lie.

"Why don't you change, and we can watch a movie?" He suggests. "I'll order takeout later, okay?"

You agree, and go change into one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts. When you come back to the living room, you see that your boyfriend's hands have not been idle. He set up a little nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, just the way you like it when you watch movies together, snuggled in close and pressed against one another.

"Is this okay?" He asks when he hears you behind him. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted snuggles, but..." he trails off as he turns and takes in your outfit. No matter how often Minho has seen you wear something of his, it gives him a rush every time.

Clearing his throat, he says "What do you want to watch?" Your ongoing agreement is that you get authority over movie snacks, and he gets authority over what food gets ordered. You both always pick what the other likes most, though, and you switch off who gets to pick the movie.

"I don't really care," you say dismissively. "You can choose. I just want muddy buddies and popcorn."

He smiles warmly, hiding his concern behind deep chocolate eyes. "Choi's alright?"

You nod, as he knew you would. "Don't forget the crab ran-goons and crispy beef," you say, putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave and nuking it.

"Oh, and egg rolls."

"Babe, I got it," he teases. "You act like I haven't known you for twelve years."

"And loved me just as long," you say to yourself, remembering the day your older brother, Chan, came home with his newfound friend, someone named Lee Minho. It wasn't the fact the he was Korean. No, Chan had lots of Korean friends, and you had you fair share. It wasn't his name. It wasn't his age or complexion.

It was his eyes. The way his nose crinkles when he smiles. It was how he acts like the mom of the group, even to the guys older than him, reminding someone to put on sunscreen, or, more often than not, cooking for everyone.

Later, it was also the way he started to look at you, like you weren't "Chan's kid sister" but a girl worth his attention, even though you're three years younger than him. It started as getting more "older brother" attention than the others. Then, you learned what flirting is. It became shy touches and bold smiles. Inside jokes and feeling jumpy if Chan was there when you were together. It became hidden kisses and climbing onto one another's rooftop in the middle of the night to watch the stars and talk. It became Chan walking in the room right when your lips touched Minho's, blouse slightly unbuttoned.

The microwave beeps, bringing you out if your trip down memory lane. Carefully picking the hot bag up by a corner, and reaching for the bowl you had put on the counter. You sigh as the smell of butter and salt taunts your stomach. You hear sounds from the TV as Minho skims past different movies.

Minho glances over his shoulder at you while you shake some ttekboki into a bowl. You can feel the worry and questions rolling off him. It took years for you to recognize the care, hidden beneath such a brash and forceful facade. He always plays his emotions close to vest, but knows how and when to pull back. That hasn't changed, except now, he has a heart that's completely open to you.

"What did you choose?" you ask, coming into the living room.

He's standing in front of the TV, arms crossed, remote pointed at the screen. "Action movie?"

"Okay," you say, setting the snacks onto the ottoman.

You lose yourself in the movie, and eventually, you don't even notice what's going on in the plot, because, as always, you re more tuned in to the Minho show. Every point where your bodies touch, his warmth, this feeling of security. You smile as his lips touch your neck for what must be the tenth time.

"I'm gonna put the order in," he says, his words warming your skin.

"Okay," you mumble, somewhat sleepily. "I'm taking a bathroom break."

He nods, his phone to his ear.

When you come back, you decide to get some water. You go to the kitchen and reach into the dish rack to get a glass. You aren't really paying attention, and nick your finger on the knife you washed this morning, after cutting an avocado. In your preoccupation with your appointment with Mia, you had left the knife pointing upwards.

"Shit," you yelp, waving your hand.

Minho comes into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just cut my finger," you say, sucking on the cut, blood staining your tongue.

He gently pulls your finger away and examines the cut. "It's not deep," he says, sounding relieved. "Here." He turns the knob on the sink, and water starts flowing from the faucet.

You gingerly put your finger under the water, hissing at how cold it is. Minho stands behind you, his chest touching your back as he massages your hand under the chilly water.

"You gotta be more careful, y/n," he says with a slight laugh.

You ignore his words, and instead focus on the feeling of his fingers kneading your hand, his breath on your skin. Your pulse quickens predictably. As it always does with him.

"Thanks, babe," you say, gently pulling away, trying to calm yourself, but not entirely sure you want to.

Minho opens the medicine cabinet, searching for a band-aid. "Food'll be here in about half an hour. Maybe 45 minutes," he says, his back to you.

Something in you says "fuck it" and you go over, hugging him from behind.

You feel his muscles jump, but his voice is steady as he says "Hey, pretty girl. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, your cheek pressed against his back. You know you should talk to him about the appointment with Mia, but you don't want to. Not yet. You have other things on your mind.

You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to the back of Minho's neck. He brings his arms down, abandoning his search for a bandage. "Babe?"

"Minho," you say quietly, in the same tone you use every time you're feeling a little naughty.

You can hear him swallow. "Y/n?" He turns to face you and you look into each other's eyes.

After a moment, you lean forward and kiss him, keeping your lips closed. You know he finds this as both an annoyance and a turn-on.

When you pull away, you see confusion in your boyfriend's gaze as he tries to decide which route to take. You know that he's going to wait to see what you do first.

Looking him dead in the eye, you say "Stop being such a gentleman." The code word you use to let him know what mood you're in.

You know he's decided to go with it, that he wants this too, when he says "I've never known a lady who doesn't wait for the man to make the first move."

He kisses you, hard. No playing around, no lead-up. You know this is going to get rough. Just how you like it.

He's still leaning against the counter, and you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his tongue meet yours. You make some vague noise at the back of your throat as he somehow manages to kiss you even deeper. His hands grip the hem of his hoodie that you're wearing, and he pulls it over your head.

"Thought so," he murmurs against your mouth.

You aren't wearing a shirt. Somehow, no matter what, he always knows. One of the Minho mysteries you have yet to figure out.

Not wanting to waste any time, you yank his shirt over his head. He laughs, tousle-haired and swollen-lipped. You trail your fingers over his lean torso, one of the many results from years of dance. You love that he's a dancer, that he couldn't give less of a shit about stereotypes. It's sexy as hell.

You lean into him, forcing him to practically bend backwards, kissing him as roughly as you possibly can. He slips a hand into your waistband, his fingers teasing. You bunch his hair into your fists, knowing he won't go any further.

Not after the other day.

Not unless you tell him to.

His touch is like fire, burning into your skin. You moan slightly against his lips as his fingers slowly move to your clit, waiting to see if you'll stop him.

You don't.

What you do do is drag your fingers down his chest to his jeans, and start to unbutton them. Something you've done so many times that you could do it with one finger and your eyes closed.

Except.

There's a nervousness zapping your spine and bubbling in your stomach that hasn't been there in a while, making you fumble.

Thinking that your slip is due to him, Minho starts to pull back, but you grab his wrist with your other hand, leaning back to look in his eyes.

"Don't stop," you say.

He swallows, seeming to feel the same nervousness.

He nods and places his lips on yours, kissing his way down your jaw and to your neck, his lips gentle while his fingers are anything but, making your walls clench like crazy.

"Damn, y/n," he mutters.

"Minho... the couch. Please," you say in a strained voice.

He gathers you up and moves into the living room, a short transition in the small apartment.

You lay on your back, biting his neck, his lips, his tongue, as he works a second finger into you. Your hips lift off the couch.

"Y/n."

You look at him, seeing the question in his eyes.

You nod slowly, feeling your stomach jump. You watch him pull his fingers out, covered in your juices. He pulls your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties. He runs the same fingers that were just inside you up your ankle, your leg, to the inside of your thigh.

Minho makes eye contact with you again and you nod firmly. Yes. The green light.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, working his way to your entrance. When he gets there, you re clenching so hard around nothing it hurts. You ball your fists, trying not to make the noises so desperately trying to escape.

You wait, anticipation racking your body until he pushes your legs a little farther apart. Then he gets to work.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "God, Minho," you moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it go. Sing for me, I want to hear that angelic voice if yours."

It feels so good. Perhaps too good. You can barely believe that you picked an argument with him over this.

You arch your back as his tongue enters your body and he makes some noise when your walls tighten even more. He pulls back and says "Relax, y/n."

"I'm trying," you mutter through clenched teeth.

As if to help, Minho starts rubbing your thigh. "No, babe, that doesn't—-" you cut yourself off, trying to get a grip. "Minho- I can't- agh-"

"Just let go, babe"

That's exactly what you're trying not to do. It's what you got so upset about on Sunday. The way you just lost control, how he encouraged it. He was a little confused, because you used to love it, the rush, the feeling, and now, he said, you're acting like it's your first time all over again. He was hurt because you called him greedy. You regret it, and you know he's going to make sure to make you such a mess and so needy that you really regret it.

One strong suck is all it takes to make you come.

You moan, grabbing at the couch as he pulls away, a devilish smirk on his face. He comes back with his fingers, shoving three fingers into your pussy, his thumb stroking your clit.

"Minho, I can't... You're gonna make me- uh!" You exclaim, coming all over his fingers.

"You know you want me," he hisses, but not maliciously. You shake your head, trembling. "Don't you?"

Again, you shake your head.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I don't want—"

"I can't hear you." He pushes his fingers even deeper.

You bite your lip, trying to pull him closer so you can kiss him, but he just raises an eyebrow in that way that drives you wild and pushes his fingers against your walls.

"One more chance, y/n. You know you want me, don't you?"

Yes," you gasp out. "I want... so bad..."

He smirks. "Who's the greedy one now?"

"Me," you pant. "Greedy bitch. I know. I'm such a dirty-"

"Keep going," he says.

"Dirty ho." Your clit aches painfully against his fingers as a fourth stretches it out. "So... such a- a slut,” you pant, somewhat hysteric.

"Mmm. You can do better than that."

You push him onto his back, yanking his jeans and boxers away.

"There you go," he says.

"In me," you beg. "Please?"

"Hmm.. I don't think you've said 'thank you' yet."

You start kneading around his dick. "Why should I?"

“I require payment," he says, his voice still so steady.

You cup your hand around his erection and start moving up and down. You take the tip of him in your mouth, tongue circling as you suck gently.

"Good girl."

You decide to show no mercy and suck as as you can, making him groan.

"Y/n. I can't-"

"To bad," you snap. "Try."

"God, you're so hot when you're fired up."

"Stops fighting."

"Oh, but then there'll be nothing left for you."

"There always is," you reply. "I’ll even be nice and help you," you say, right before he lets go and comes all over your hand and chin. "There's a good boy."

He pretends that he didn’t whine at the pet name. “Shall we call it even?" He asks, even though you know he's in no way finished.

"Oh, no," you say. "I'll let you choose."

"On your back," he orders. You comply. "And get the bra off. Stop acting like you're some innocent angel."

You drop your bra to the ground, right before he starts kissing your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts.

He moves to sit on your stomach, and you know what's coming. He holds his hand under your chin, and you spit into his palm, obliging. He uses your spit as a lubricant for his dick before he positions it between your tits, moving them back and forth, rubbing against him.

You feel him go hard almost instantly and smile inwardly. You knew he wasn't done yet. He's never down for the count that early on.

"Minho. Stop wasting time."

He raises his eyebrow again. "Who's in charge here?"

“Asshole,” you spit out. “I just fucking tolerate your orders.”

He hums in consideration. "What do you think?”

You stroke the tip of his dick, making him shudder. "Fuck me, Lee Minho. Show me what you've got."

The second you say it, you wish you could take it back.

"Challenge accepted."

This is going to be a long night.

ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆

You're leaning against the arm of the couch, watching your boyfriend enthusiastically eat a bucketful of shrimp lo mien the same way he had eaten you out not too long ago.

"You hungry?" He asks, using his chopsticks to gather the noodles into his mouth.

"Mmm. Maybe later. I'm just exhausted. Tired."

"But not tired of me, right?"

You flash him an amused look. "Unfortunately not." Your entire body is sore, your legs are weak as hell, and your clit is pounding with pain. You give him an appraising look. "You seemed to hold your own longer than usual."

Minho shrugs, mouth full of noodles. His hair is a tousled mess, his bare chest and neck covered in hickeys and teeth marks. You're sure that you're no different.

You tug the sleeves of his hoodie down over your hands and pick up your phone. "Oh, fuck," you say, realizing that you have a missed call.

"What's up?"

"Mia tried calling me earlier," you tell him. "But..."

"You were a bit busy," he supplies with a shrug. He twists away from you to grab another carton of lo mien, and you see that his back is bright red and covered in scratches. You reach out and trace a puffy red line, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"God, babe. Your fingers are freezing."

You trace another line, realizing that there are tiny beads of blood on his back. "Holy shit. Minho. Baby. Why don't you ever stop me?"

He shrugs, opening the lo mien. "I'm fine with it. I like it. You seem to like it. It also kinda kills the mood.

"But if it hurts—"

"It dushnt," he tells you, noodles hanging from his mouth like octopus tentacles.

"Still. What if I scratch too hard and actually cut you instead of just scraping the surface of your skin? Stop acting like 'the mood' is more important that your health."

He doesn't meet you eyes as he quietly says "Are we really going down this path again?"

You sigh and push your fingers into your hair.

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know!"

"Babe. I don't really know what you want me to say anymore. I told you not to worry about me."

"I'm not just worrying about you, Minho. I'm also thinking about me."

He twirls his chopsticks in the lo mien container. "Do you, y/n? Because you seem to have a tolerance the size of fucking Kilimanjaro. You never tell me to stop, even if, quite frankly, I'm exhausted and can't keep going. But I do. I do for you."

You feel your neck getting warm. "Well maybe it's your own fault for not telling me you need to stop."

"I do, though. I do, and you listen when I tell you I'm out. I'm more so a bit ticked off that you never tell me to stop. Do you remember what I said to you all that time ago? Did you even care? Because that was me, caring."

You close your eyes, remembering the color system that he devised for you, signals as to when to tell him to stop, if something he's doing hurts. "Yes, Minho. I remember. But I said that also goes for you! And you-"

"Use it when I really need to," he interjects.

"Well... well maybe I just don't really need to, then," you huff.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you tell yourself it's just an eyebrow, not a sexy move from your boyfriend. Definitely not something that turns you on.

The truth is, you've always been scared to use the light system. It's always green. Green means go. Even though you and Minho had had feelings for each other since you were in primary school- the last year, but still— that didn't stop him, who was three years older, from meeting other girls and going out with them, and you didn't try to stop him. You yourself went out on dates, kissed guys and did everything short of getting fucked for real. You wanted Minho to be the one to get your cherry. And he didn't disappoint.

Through it all, though, he had plenty of experience, experiences that you couldn't compete with unless it was oral. He told you green light means all good. Yellow is "I need a break" and red is stop. No questions asked. Whatever you're doing ends and you do something that doesn't involve sex. Red and yellow both mean "this hurts, I'm uncomfortable" of some degree.

Though you've definitely needed to, you've been worried about how Minho would react if you tell him to stop. It's one of the other reasons you argued with him on Sunday, but he doesn't know it. You made it seem like he just takes and takes, when really, it was that it hurt. You couldn't keep going, even though it hadn't even been 15 minutes when the pain kicked in. You were embarrassed. He was able to go on for God knows how long, and you weren't lasting anywhere near as close as him that day.

The look Minho gives you tells you that he's calling BS.

"Y/n."

You look at him. "Minho?"

"Look." He's always down his container of noodles and shrimp. "I know that's not the case. Why don't you try telling me what's actually up."

A spark of frustration heats your chest. "What's up, Minho, is that, thanks to you being late, we missed our appointment with Mia!"

Minho leans forward, massaging his temples. Finally, he drops his hands, his elbows balancing on his knees, and he looks over at you. "Is that what this is all about? I'm not ignoring the fact that you're dodging my question, but why didn't you say something to me?"

"Because... because it's just-"

"Not worth it? Babe, clearly it is. You wouldn't even tell me why this appointment was so fucking important to you. So important that I had to be there, which I found odd, because you usually tell me you want to see Mia alone. Which is fine, because I know that's the only girl time you two get together, so I found it strange that you wanted me there."

You clench your fists, hidden from view by the long sleeves of your boyfriend's hoodie, trying not to explode.

"And," he continues, "you still haven't told me the full story as to why you were actually upset on Sunday. You just called me greedy and said you weren't in the mood anymore. So please, please, will you tell me what's wrong? What's been going on?"

"I..." you look into his amber eyes, trying to fight the truth.

Minho puts a hand on your knee. "Y/n. Baby. Please."

The words come spilling out. "It's not that you're greedy. It's not that I don't enjoy the sex anymore. It's that... it's that I'm scared," you blurt. His expression is startled, incredulous as you go on.

"I'm scared to tell you no. To tell you to stop, that something hurts. It makes me feel like shit, when something hurts and I start to feel tired by the fifteen minute mark when you haven't even gotten started. It's not every time. But that's what was happening on Sunday. Sometimes it makes me ashamed, how much I just... it's like I'm a different person when we have sex. Sometimes I don't recognize me. Like, I turn into a mess. You turn me on like that" —you snap your fingers— "and somehow, you get me to cum four times in less than half an hour. I needed to feel justified in my feelings of 'I can't anymore' and I was scared to flat out tell you to stop, so I told you that you were being greedy and it was a turn off. And I'm sorry, Minho. I'm so so sorry for calling you greedy and disgusting. The truth is, I feel greedy and disgusting, wanting so badly, wanting so much, when I can't go on, or when you need a break. Sometimes I feel annoyed that you need to stop." You bury your face in your hands. "God, I'm such an asshole." You try to prevent the tears prickling behind your eyes.

"Y/n. Look at me. Please." You lower your hands to see Minho. "I'm sorry. Babe, why haven't you said something? If it hurts, if I'm hurting you, then you should tell me. If you can't anymore, tell me. Yellow light. Red light. Doesn't matter. Don't feel ashamed, okay? To tell you the truth, sometimes I can tell you're tired, but I'm never sure whether or not I should slow down and stop because you never tell me to, and I worry about accidentally offending you. I don't want you to think I'm assuming you're weak."

"Anyone that can ride Lee Minho for even fifteen minutes cannot be weak," you joke.

"Point taken. As for being a totally different person during sex? Well, yeah, you're gonna act differently when you're fucking. Think about it: do you go around constantly calling yourself a dirty ho and greedy bitch when you're at work?"

You don't say anything.

"I mean, unless you're getting it on with a coworker. Then we might have some problems."

That gets a laugh from you. "God, no. No, Minho. I understand what you're saying. It just... I feel ashamed and dirty after the fact. Like 'was that really me'?"

He smiles gently. "Yes, and I get that. But you have to know that there's no reason to feel that way. I don't think any less of you. And, in case you don't remember, you aren't the only one yelling and moaning and talking dirty, okay? You also aren't the only one that gets turned on instantly and cums a billion times. Then again, I, personally, can't really help it."

You smile again, that special smile that you save for him.

"Now. What about this appointment with Mia?"

The smile drops from your face as a slight panic sets in. "What about it?"

"Baby, please don't shut down now. Keep this going, okay? Why were you so upset to miss a meeting with Mia?"

You bite your lip, contemplating. "I... I'm maybe... something came up, and she... she's had a few times dealing with this with other people and knows what to do and I wanted you there so we were on the same page."

"Okay," he says slowly.

You feel your hands start to shake. "I guess it has to do with why I was so punchy these past few weeks..."

"Oh. I though it was PMS."

You shake your head. "No. Maybe a little bit, but mainly no. The truth is.." you hesitate, trying how best to go about this. "I have a rare immunodeficiency."

Minho looks at you with disbelief. "What?"

"I... I have a rare immunodeficiency," you repeat shakily.

"What is it? How did you find out?"

"Well... I actually found out from... from us having sex."

Minho's eyes widen. "Have I somehow gotten you sick? What happened? Does this have to do with why it hurts you so much?"

"No, I'll explain in a second, and possibly." You look down at your hands. "Let me ask you this: you'd say we're usually pretty... careful, right?"

He nods. "If I remember correctly, told me to download that app that tracks your cycle so we both have a record of your ovulation schedule and know what days to avoid completely. And you regularly remind me to make sure I have condoms both here and at my place and you have some sort of birth control, but you stopped taking it because it was causing some sort of issue, so no more of y/n's birth control. Correct?"

You nod. "But we're only human, and even technology can't predict something that fluctuates like a woman's period. Because it does change."

Again, he nods. "True... Wait." He looks up at you, lips parted. "Are you..?"

You shake your head. "No, babe. I'm not pregnant. Not anymore."

"Anymore?"

You nod. "Yes. I've technically been pregnant five times in the past two years."

Your boyfriend stares, mouth agape.

"After the fourth time, I went to the doctors. Do you remember how I had that constant bout of sickness?"

"I remember."

"Well.." you squeeze your fingers, preparing yourself. "I was getting so sick because my body was thinking that each fetus was actually a virus. At the same time, my body was naturally like 'okay we've got a life force in here to grow and protect'. Essentially, my body was waging a two-sided war on itself. One side to protect the baby, the other trying to get rid of it."

"But why?" You can't help but be thankful for how calm he's staying.

"You're taking this remarkably well. Better than I thought you would, anyways." You hug your arms to your chest. "Explanation: my body isn't accepting your DNA."

"So, essentially, I'm making you sick. But only when you end up pregnant?"

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "God, y/n. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I wasn't sure how," you say meekly. "I mean, I'd be like 'hey, babe, guess what? I'm pregnant. Surprise!' Just to be like 'Ha. Sike!I'm not pregnant anymore' within a month."

He sighs. "True. Holy fuck. Five times?"

You nod and laugh a little. "Yeah. Guess we know what that means."

He nods conspiratorially. "Yep. Probably should've listened to everyone being like 'be smart. Be safe. Always use protection', huh?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"Fertilization treatments," you say glumly. "I hear they're absolute hell."

"But it'll be worth it, right? I mean, you don't get sick and... I mean, if you don't want kids, that's fine, I just thought... I'm not saying I'm assuming anything. I mean, obviously it's your choice, I just thought..."

For the first time, you realize just how… nervous this news is making him. Your boyfriend, the always cool, calm and collected Lee Minho is a flustered and stuttering mess. It also hits you that he actually, really, truly wants kids. He wants kids... with you. Which must mean...

No. You can't get sidetracked. Whether or not he proposes is up to him. You'll always be ready to say yes.

Back to the task at hand.

"Minho. Babe, calm down. Of course it'll be worth it."

He starts shaking his head, almost frantically. "No, no, no. Don't make a decision based on me. Do it because you want to. Don't-"

You put your hand on his knee. "Hey. Deep breaths. Yes, I want the treatments."

His body sags in relief.

"I want to get this fixed. I can't have a family if my body is killing off our kids. I dare say you'd prefer it if your children actually made it out alive."

His eyes widen at your statement. You run it through your head, trying to catch your mistake.

Then you realize: you just laid out a future of togetherness, marriage, and parenthood with Minho in those three sentences.

You try to backpedal, feeling like you've overstepped, even though you've talked about a future together many times. "I just meant, if you were me— I didn't mean—"

He cups your face in his hand. "I'd prefer it if my children made it out alive," he says softly, placing a hand on your abdomen.

You smile, relieved that you've finally told him. As Minho leans in to kiss you oh so softly, you close your eyes, envisioning your future.

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Do I make you nervous?

Originally published on my wattpad: slvt4em1lyprenti2s

Summary: Unit Chief em noticed that you get a little flustered around her and she picks up on your crush 

Word Count: 1.9k

Fluff, (kissing)

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

(ik it's chief em but Derek and Spencer are still gunna be in the BAU)

Emily's pov:

I walked to the round table as I just got notified about a case out in Montana and had called in the team. I was setting out everyone's tablets and got Garcia to send them the case information.

I heard some shuffling behind me and footsteps approaching the room. I turned around and saw y/n, she's a younger agent that joined the team around 2 years ago. She's an amazing profiler and has adapted to the team well, although she always seems to be a bit nervous around me. I'm not sure if it's because I'm her boss, or maybe she finds me intimidating? I'm not sure. 

"Hey!" she says in her usually cheery voice.

"Hi, you got here quick." I say surprised at her speed, I only called them in like, 10 minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was in the area, so I just came in." She was looking everywhere but my eyes and a rosey tint stained her face. I smirked to myself as she set down her coffee cup and took a seat. 

Reader pov:

Oh my god. Could she be anymore hot? Like I know she's my boss and quite a bit older than me but, hey, a girl can dream. She can obviously feel my stare and turns round to look at me, I instantly avert my gaze to the tablet in front of me and start flicking through the crime scene photos. 

"Y/n/n, can I ask you something?" She asks as she stalks closer to me. Heat rises up my neck and into my face once again. 

"Uh- uhm yeah ofc course." At that moment Garcia walks through the door completely oblivious (which is very strange, she notices everything) of all the tension she just walked in on. 

"Okay so, the case was sent to the tablets 15 minutes ago, the jet is ready and everyone should be here- oh y/n/n hi!" her voice lifting my mood instantly. Pen has that effect on everyone she meets and I love that about her. 

"Hi Pen!" I reply just as enthusiastically, happy to have the previous conversation interrupted.

Once Garcia had come in she was closely followed by: Spencer, Rossi, Tara, Derek and JJ. We all sit down, ready to be briefed about the case.

"Okay so we're going to the one and only Treasure state of Montana my crime fighting friends..." 

Time skip to when they're in Montana:

Emily pov:

Me and y/n are setting up in the local PD while everyone else is out at either, crime scenes, disposal sights or interviewing witnesses. I chose for her to stay with me because she's been acting weird around me ever since she joined the team but, it's been getting worse recently. I was going to ask her about it in the meeting room earlier but, we were interrupted by Garcia. 

"Can you pass me the photos from the scene?" She asks, looking at me with those gorgeous y/e/c eyes. She's your subordinate Emily Jesus- I mean she's been acting weird but that doesn't mean she likes you! I look around in the case box and pull out the photos, she had shifted her position so she was now not facing me. I walked over and brushed my hands over her lower back and handed them to her. Her head snapped round to face me as she took the photos. Her fingers danced over mine as she took them from my hand. I see her blushing as she smiles and look back to the board. This is going to be fun.

Reader pov:

HUH? Her hand brushed and lingered on my back and she touched my hand as she gave me the photos. God I don't know if I'm reading too far into this. I really hope I'm not. 

I begin pinning up the photos as Derek and Spencer walk in the room.

"You got something?" Emily asks them expectantly.

"Yeah, a plate from the vehicle the UnSub used to kidnap Sarah Johnston. 24Y-FTX." Spencer said as he picked up his phone, presumably to call Garcia.

"Already? So this is going to be over quite quick then, huh?" Derek looks over and nods as Garcia's voice rung out from Reid's phone. 

"The car is registered to a Gary Solomon, and Ive got a home address and he's unemployed so no work address! Sending it to you now!" Pen hung up as we checked our phones.

"Get JJ, Rossi and Tara to meet us there." Emily tells Morgan as we all walk to the SUV's. Derek and Spencer get into one, leaving the other to me and Emily. Great. 

We climb into the car and speed off in the direction of the house. I can feel Emily's eyes on me at points but I choose to ignore her and focus on saving the girl he took. 

We pull up to the house and get ready with the team to storm it, going in our original groups, me and em round the back, JJ, Rossi take the left, Tara and Spencer take the right, and Derek breaks down the door and goes in the front. We go in through the back, Emily in front of me and we begin our sweep through the house. Doors are swung open and signals are passed left and right. 

"Hey, stop a sec." Emily says holding up her hand. I hear a faint creaking of floorboards to our left. I raise my gun and point it down the dark hallway of the house. We being walking down it, slowly as to not give away our position. 

"Look out!" I hear Emily say before she grabs me by my hips and pulls me flush against her. I hear a bullet whistle past my ear. I lift my gun and shoot the guy a few times before he drops to the ground. 

A sigh of relief escapes my mouth as Morgan simultaneously radios in that they found the girl. It takes me a second to realise Emily is still gripping my hips and that if I were to move an inch closer our lips would touch. I clear my throat and break away from her warmth as I go to check the guy is gone. As I suspect, he's dead so we call in the ambulance crew to pick him up. 

"Good work here today guys, the jet isn't leaving till the morning as it's too late right now but, I think we could all do with a little sleep. Garcia booked a hotel just down the street so let's get going." A chorus of 'thank god's' and 'good, I didn't want to sleep in the jet' rippled through the night air as we made our way to the SUV's once again.

Time skip to when they're at the hotel:

Emily pov: 

I walk over to the front desk and ask for the reservations made under the name Prentiss, and the lady at the desk tells me there's been 4 rooms booked, two double and two single as they were sold out of everything else. Instantly JJ and Tara, and Spencer and Derek pair up and run to grab the keys for the double room and speed off before we can argue. I look at Rossi and can see he clearly doesn't want to share a room which I totally understand and hand him a key to his own room. 

"Looks like we're roommates for the night," I say to the y/h/c standing next to me. As soon as I said it she averted her eyes from raking up my body to the floor. She muttered something I couldn't quite make out but I chose to not push due to her demeanour, something about us sharing a room is making her nervous and I think I know exactly what. We step into the lift and I click the floor we're on, y/n was slightly in my way as I did it so I help her waist to get lean over her, I felt her tense and the relax under my touch. I stand beside her as we start our silent ascent to our floor.

Reader pov: 

I'm sharing a room, with one bed, with Emily Prentiss. If I wasn't so helplessly attracted to her I'd be okay, but, I'm helplessly attracted to her so... 

We walk to our room and she swipes the key card to let us in. There isn't even a sofa to sleep on. Great, so we're definitely sharing a bed. 

We move silently as we change and do our nighttime routines. Emily starts walking towards me as I brush my hair in the full length mirror.

"I never got to ask you that question you know," My breath catches in my throat at the proximity. I can feel her hot breath on my neck, and her hands ghost over my waist as she speaks. I stiffen at the touch and look away. "Do I make you nervous?" I dryly swallow as I look at her.

"What would you do if I said yes?" 

"You'll have to find out." 

I turn around and meet her eyes, her hands are now firmly planted on my waist, her grey hair falling perfectly over her shoulders and her pyjama tanktop capturing her figure perfectly. My arms find their way around her neck as I lean in a little bit closer, her nose brushes over mine as I do so.

"Yes, you do." I whisper, feeling my breath fan over her lips. 

As soon as I finish my sentence she closes the gap in a soft, slow kiss. It's warm and comforting, as our lips dance together as if we've done this a thousand times before. The cage of butterflies in my stomach doubles and she puts her right hand on my cheek and starts caressing my face as she deepens the kiss by running her tongue over my bottom lip and asking for entrance, which I gladly gave. Our tongues fight for dominance, and she quickly wins that battle. She explores my mouth, not leaving an inch untouched. I happily sigh into the kiss, who knew she felt the same way? Air begins to become a problem and we pull away. Her dark eyes, stare at me for a moment before pulling me back in to peck my lips once more.

"When we get back home, do you want to go on a date with me?" Emily seems nervous to ask the question, which I find weird for two reasons: one, is the em is never nervous and two, her tongue was just down my throat, what does she think? 

"I'd love to em." I smile ear to ear as I get pulled into her warm embrace.

"C'mon let's go to sleep, it's getting late." I agree with her as we slip under the covers, our bodies mould together as if we were two puzzle pieces sliding into place. She was behind me, spooning me and she had her arms wrapped tight around me. I had my head under hers and one my arms are tangled with hers as they wrap around me. She kisses the crown of my head as I drift of to sleep, my only thought being that this, us, it just feels right. 

She's my person.

A/N: lmao sleep deprived and had motivation sorry if it isn't great, DONT FORGET TO LEAVE REQUESTS!!!

[f0rlorn]

we are young → john allerdyce

john allerdyce (x-men) x female!reader

notes → john knows he can count on you, and he wants you to know that you can count on him too. ahh yes, the infamous pyro. they kept my boy in the void for far too long. time to bring back this wattpad banger written by me in 2021.

give me a second i... i need to get my story straight. my friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the empire state

john had left to go grab his zippo from the car, just in case he needed it. bobby and marie had gone off somewhere doing god knows what. that left you alone, your drink the only thing keeping you company.

my lover, she's waiting for me. just across the bar. my seat's been taken by some sunglasses, asking 'bout a scar

john walked back into the building to find some guy chatting you up. he felt a pang of guilt as he heard the topic at hand. the man was asking about the burn that covered your wrist. you rubbed at it self consciously.

i know i gave it to you months ago, i know you're trying to forget. but between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies... you know i'm tryin' hard to take it back. so if by the time the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, i'll carry you home

john was never the best boyfriend. he knew that. everyone knew that. but he did try. he loved you more than anything. so no matter how many fucked up things he had done, he would be there for you, and you would be there for him.

"excuse me." john had walked up to the two of you. the man looked up at him, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the boy.

"you need something?" the man asked, glaring at john.

"you're in my seat." john responded flatly.

"and what are you gonna do about it?" he laughed, a smirk gracing his face.

"you don't want to find out." john was just about ready to snap, already fed up with the man. you put your hand on his back to calm him down.

"you should leave. before i make you." the man scoffed and backed away, probably off to find some other girl to flirt with.

"are you okay?" you asked john, a sincere look on your face. you laced your fingers with his, the gesture made him melt. you had always been so good to him. your soft and caring personality paired with his tough demeanor was beyond believable, many people back at the academy were amazed when you announced your relationship with john. they didn't understand how you could put up with the hothead all the time.

"i'm sorry..." he muttered. you frowned.

"john, how many times do i have to tell you that i forgive you? it was in the past, you can forget about it." you reassured him, cupping his cheek. he want quiet after that, not wanting to argue with you. you placed a kiss to his lips.

"i don't deserve you..." john smiled.

"yes, you do. you deserve the world and more, lover boy."

tonight, we are young. so let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun. now i know that i'm not all that you got. i guess that i... i just thought maybe we could find a way to fall apart. but our friends are back! so let's raise a tab! 'cause i found someone to carry me home

sooner or later, bobby and marie came back. the four of you left the bar area and found a booth to sit in. bobby and rogue had ordered practically half of the menu. you spent the rest of the time drinking and laughing, having a great time. it was nice to get a break from all the intense training you were doing. after your meal you parted ways, rogue had just moved into her new apartment and bobby would be spending the night there. john and you decided to just drive for a while, wanting to make the most of your alone time together.

the next thirty minutes were pure bliss, the two of you were singing along to the radio and making jokes. you were too drunk to think straight. it was fun until you sobered up, then the sleepiness hit you like a wave. you rested your head on john's shoulder. he glanced down at you as you dozed off. the moon illuminated your features, making your face glow. you looked ethereal. it was then that he knew everything would be alright, as long as you were by his side.

so if by the time the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, i'll carry you home tonight.

[garciaasfluffypen]

stay like this forever

pairing: elle greenaway x reader word count: 1k warnings: elle is sad? a/n: this *might* be cross posted to my wattpad, i found it on my google docs and can't remember where i uploaded it lol. also, if you can find the subtle starkid reference i'll give you a cookie

the case had been a tough one, and you were absolutely drained. it was rare that a case drained you this much, to the point you were practically falling asleep on the jet. wrapped up in the extra blanket you always stashed away on the jet that smelled like your girlfriend, you closed your eyes and pulled the blanket closer to yourself, adjusting your position so you were practically in a ball. there were many thoughts running through your head- mostly about the outcome of the case but some about what could have happened if you had been a few minutes later. your girlfriend’s face was etched into the front of your eyelids and you could still practically feel the fear running through your veins as elle stood face to face with the unsub.

it took absolutely everything in your power not to run over to her and save her ass, and it was a good thing you didn’t compromise that considering you two hadn’t told hotch about your relationship yet. after everything that had happened while she was in montego bay with derek, you offered her your spare room so she could heal in the presence of another human. during that time you two got progressively closer, and eventually one night while wine drunk you admitted you had feelings for her, and ended up kissing. since then, you two had been attached at the hip, partnering together at any chance you could get. you had a sinking feeling they all suspected something was going on, but you didn’t want to face that reality yet. 

you smiled slightly to yourself at the memory, looking at a sleeping elle sitting across from you.  her features were so soft when she slept, and it was a stark difference from the elle you knew from work. it was nice, being the only person who had the luxury of seeing her in that state. moments later you felt the plane start shifting downwards, and you knew you would be landing soon. 

by the time you landed, elle was rubbing her eyes and everyone else was getting ready to get off the jet and go back to their respective houses. hotch had told everyone to go home, and that you could all do the paperwork in the morning, which meant you and elle could go straight home and straight to bed. you waited for her patiently at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at her as the two of you walked over to one of the FBI issued cars that always escorted you to and from the air strip. it wasn’t that far of a walk, but it was easier to drive. you and elle said your goodbyes before walking to the parking structure, making sure nobody was around before you snuck your hand into hers. 

the ride back to your place was quiet. something told you elle was itching to ask you a question, but was waiting for the right time to ask it. you pulled your car into your assigned parking spot, shutting off the car and waiting for elle to grab her stuff before you locked it, the two of you heading inside. both of you got ready for bed, you finishing your nightly routine first and laying down in bed, getting situated under the covers. elle joined you moments later, and you could tell she had been crying.

“elle, darling, what’s wrong?” you held your arms open, holding her close as she curled into you.

another round of sobs attacked elle’s body as you simply laid there, running your hand up and down her back as she got all her emotions out. it was rare that you saw her in this state, and you knew that she had to get all of her tears out before you two fell asleep- if hotch had ingrained anything into your brain, it was that you shouldn't bottle up your emotions, especially after a hard case. roughly ten minutes later, she sniffled. 

“‘m sorry. i dunno where that came from.” 

“it's okay, elle.” you placed a supportive kiss to the top of her head. “sometimes all you need is a good cry.”

“i got your sleep shirt covered in my tears, though.” she pouted.

“and they’ll dry.” you tilted her head to look up at you. “i could care less about this old shirt. i’ve had it for years. a few tears won’t hurt it.” 

elle rested her head back on your chest. “i guess i’m just a bit overwhelmed from today.” 

“how so?”

“well, for one, i tried subduing the unsub without backup.” she dryly chuckled. “i didn’t think about the implications of what was going to happen.” she dug her head into the crook of your neck. “i almost lost you today.” 

“but hey, you saved all of our asses in the end. it was your smart thinking that led us to him.” you placed another peck on the top of her head. “if it wasn’t for you, we’d still be in pennsylvania trying to find the son of a bitch.” 

“it was because of me i almost left you girlfriendless.” elle mumbled into you as she curled in closer. “i don’t know if i would have been able to live with myself if i let you lose me.” 

“elle, darling,” you looked down to her, waiting until she was looking up to you. “don’t worry about that. you’re actively healing from a traumatic event, and for each person it’s different. all i care about is that you’re safe. you’re safe, you’re here, and you’re in my arms, which i must say, is a nice change.”

“shush.” you felt elle chuckle against your chest. 

"i thought you were so badass." you smiled at elle. “yet here you are, curled up against me looking absolutely anything but badass.” 

"i am." elle mumbled into your shoulder. "i swear."

"it seems to me like right now you're just a soft little teddy bear."

you couldn’t help but laugh as elle playfully glared at you.  "you're going to regret saying that." 

there was a moment of silence. “i wish we could stay like this forever.” 

“yeah, me too.” 

elle closed her eyes as her breathing slowed down, you following shortly seconds later. a small smile graced your lips as you felt her shift closer to you, holding you as close to her body as she could muster.

she really was a soft teddy bear, even if she didn’t know it.

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after befriending one of the Natblidas, you don't expect for her to become as important in your life as she is. But she's only on track to becoming Commander, so your feelings can never come first.

warning/s: usual warnings that come with the 100 such as mentions of violence and injuries etc.

author's note: okay so i've literally had writer's block for what feels like forever and this was requested a while ago. I've finally finished it (though i'm not content with the ending and couldn't for the life of me think of an alternative lol). Nonetheless, I hope you like it! It'll have two parts in total :)

also if anyone thinks Lexa is ooc, this is just how i imagine her to be growing up and pre-Costia okay, sue me

6 years old...

I followed my father as we approached the Tower in the centre of Polis. Apparently it was where the Commander lived, at least that's what everyone said, but I'd never actually seen him before. He was always protecting Polis, fighting enemy clans, hunting and other Commander-stuff – my dad said so – which was why he was hardly out in public.

For whatever reason, he was more of a figment of my imagination than an actual leader, but I'd never admit that aloud. Despite this, I always found his home – the Tower – very impressive, and whenever I'd accompany my father on visits, I'd be forever fascinated. My father was an apothecary and regularly made deliveries to the Commander's personal healer in the Tower, and so he always brought me with him.

I followed him through the winding corridors and past some guards dotted around and then we reached the healer's room on the ground floor. As usual, I was told to wait outside whilst business was conducted, but this time it took longer than usual. I heard laughter from inside the healer's room and figured my father and the healer were having a nice catch up which, from experience, would take forever.

Naturally, I wandered off momentarily, down the familiar hallway and peeking through open doors. My eyes drew to a particular room that was filled with a dozen or so young children, near enough my age though some a little older, and I knew who they were instantly.

The Natblidas.

I'd seen them around before on previous visits and also heard a lot about them from others in the city. They were black-blooded and able to take the Flame that the Commander had. Only those with black blood could be a Natblida and next in line for the throne once the Commander passed. They were scouted constantly, brought in from all different clans, trained to fight in Polis and eventually fight in a Conclave once the Commander was dead. The last one standing would lead next.

It was a difficult concept to grasp, especially so young, but I knew enough to know it was important. I didn't know any of the Natblidas personally, but whenever I saw them, I was always intrigued.

"What are you looking at?"

I jumped, startled at the voice from behind me. Turning around, I was ready to defend myself in case I was about to get in trouble, but all my words betrayed me once my eyes landed on the young girl before me, no older than I was. She was a little taller than me, had long curly brown hair and the brightest green eyes I'd ever seen. I wasn't sure what was so different about her to other kids I'd met, but I was certain she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my little life.

"Hello? Do you understand me?" she asked in fluent Trigedasleng, quirking a brow.

"I– yes," I answered quickly, acutely aware of the butterflies in my stomach. Though, at the time, I'd never experienced butterflies so I wasn't sure why I felt like I was floating. "Sorry. I was just waiting for my father. He delivers medicine to the healer."

She crossed her arms, eyes looking me up and down with an air of maturity that other kids in the city didn't possess. "What's your name?"

"Y/N. What's yours?"

Her eyes met mine again, though this time her shoulders relaxed. "Lexa."

I smiled a little, offering out my forearm as I'd seen my father do whenever greeting others. "It's nice to meet you, Lexa."

She did the same, gripping mine and shaking it slightly. "You too, Y/N."

"Are you a Natblida?" I asked curiously.

She nodded.

"Wow," I muttered without meaning to, and then a small smile graced her lips and the butterflies only intensified.

"I have to get back to class," she said with a hint of amusement. "Will you come back? Next time? With your father?"

I nodded a little too quickly. "I always do."

She pressed her lips together, nodding, before moving past me to return to her class. But not before glancing at me once more, saying, "Goodbye, Y/N. See you next time."

I stupidly gaped at her, managing to wiggle my fingers in a goodbye wave, before catching the sparkle in her eye as she closed the door behind her.

I suppose you could say that was where both my friendship and crush on Lexa truly began.

It was from that point onwards where I would see her almost every time I visited the Tower with my father, which was, at most, a couple of days a week. Between finding moments to chat whilst my dad did his job or watching her train with the other Natblidas, it was safe to say my crush, and our friendship, blossomed with time.

I learnt about her experience as a Natblida, including how she'd been there the longest of all the other kids because she'd been brought to Polis as a two-year-old and had been training since. It explained why she was so mature for her age and why she took her role as a Natblida with the utmost seriousness. Nonetheless, she was still a kid like me, and that was why it was so easy to befriend one another.

She asked me tons of questions about my life, since our day-to-day responsibilities differed so much. Her days were filled with training, learning and shadowing warriors, whereas mine were filled with shadowing my father, learning about medicine and exploring all there was to know about the human body. I wanted to be a healer when I was older and so my dad was preparing me for that all he could.

It was easy enough to become closer to Lexa, so much that she began sneaking out to spend more time with me outside of her Natblida responsibilities. It was easy enough since she was practically a top student, so nobody ever suspected a thing.

And that was how we became best friends.

—

8 years old...

"You should let me train you more."

I scoffed and pushed Lexa off me with my sword, making her laugh as she backed up. She had the afternoon free from her Natblida responsibilities, so we were training together in the woods so she could get the extra practice in but also spend time with me.

"I'm not the one training to be Heda, so I think I'll stick to medicine," I retorted knowingly.

She rolled her eyes playfully before getting into a stance with her sword once more.

"This isn't fun for me, y'know," I reminded her as I, too, got into a stance. "Can't we go swimming now?"

She swung her sword just as I finished my sentence and I was quick to raise my own, otherwise my face would have been sliced in half.

"Soon," she got out between swings.

I struggled to keep up with her, not as accustomed to sword fighting as she was. Sometimes it was easy to forget this was all she knew, and our ideas of spending time together were very different.

She swung her sword with force, knocking mine from my grasp. I watched it clatter to the ground before hers found the tip of my chin with satisfaction.

"Not fair," I grumbled, and her grin was staring across from me, mischievous glint matching the glint of her sword.

"It's too easy," she said between a chuckle, before lowering her sword.

I feigned annoyance as I went to grab my sword, picking it up from the mud it landed in. This gave me an idea and I began to smile to myself as I grabbed my sword, as well as dipping the tips of my fingers in the mud.

"Your fighting is very good, Lexa," I complimented her, standing up and approaching her. "But you have to be fierce if you're to be Heda. Didn't you know that?"

She furrowed her brows, almost offended. "I am fierce!"

"I think some face paint would help," I said nonchalantly, using her momentary confusion as opportunity to swipe my mud-covered fingers across her cheek with a grin.

She squealed as she stepped back, eyes scrunching shut. I laughed at her expression as she wiped her cheek subconsciously, only spreading the mud further across her cheekbone.

"There," I spoke with pride. "Perfect."

Her bright eyes met mine competitively, an attempt to intimidate me, but I knew her long enough to find it anything but. Soon enough, her pursed lips curved into a smile and she was laughing alongside me.

"I suppose I deserved that," she admitted, shaking her head.

"You could actually wear some war paint though," I said after studying her face a little longer, both from genuine awe at how pretty she looked, even after training, and pure curiosity. "It suits you."

Thinking I was teasing, she shoved me back slightly, and I chuckled at the pink dusting her cheeks.

Looking back, it was how we discovered she actually did suit war paint, and it did indeed make her look more fierce. I was touched when I saw her wear it properly from then on out.

—

12 years old...

"Lexa, slow down!" I exclaimed, hands gripping her waist tightly.

Her laughter rang through the trees as she continued to ride her horse quickly, galloping through the forest and back to Polis. We had gone on a horse ride and picnic for lunch, or more of a late afternoon snack since it was the only time she could sneak off, but she always purposely rode fast, knowing it made me nauseous and dizzy.

Eventually she slowed down as we approached the edge of the city, coming to a halt by the west entrance. As soon as we stopped, I let go of her and slipped off the horse dizzily, leaning against a tree for support.

"I hate you," I mumbled, trying to steady myself.

"No you don't," she said between laughter, jumping off her horse and holding the reins.

I glared at her, half joking, before taking a deep breath. Once I was sure I wouldn't vomit, I straightened up, ready to walk the rest of the way.

"C'mon," she said, voice void of teasing and a gentle smile on her lips as she held out her hand.

I sighed but accepted her hand, letting her pull me to her side as we walked together. It was quiet as we walked through the city, though steadily getting busier as we approached the centre. As we walked, I remembered I wanted to share something with Lexa. It was actually the whole reason I wanted to hang out with her today, but the day got away from me and I completely forgot to mention it.

"So, I have some good news to share," I said, glancing over at her.

She quirked a brow, intrigued, returning my stare.

"My father set me up with a volunteer position," I started, pocketing my hands.

"Wow, really?" she asked excitedly, stopping to give me her full attention. "Where?"

I smiled a little, appreciative of her genuine interest. She knew I was trying to get some sort of official volunteering work from a skilled healer so I could learn.

"Well, you know how he delivers to the Commander's healer regularly?" I hinted playfully.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Really? You're going to be working with the Commander's personal healer?"

My smile widened as I nodded bashfully. "Yeah. It's only temporary, but–"

"Y/N, that's amazing!" she cut me off with a bright smile, before pulling me in for a hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

My whole face grew warm as she hugged me, not expecting it at all. It was safe to say I still had a huge crush on her, but I was too afraid to say anything, so it was little moments like these that I'd cling to with delusion.

"Who knows? Maybe when I become Commander, you can be my personal healer," she said once she pulled away, emerald eyes meeting mine with amazement.

I chuckled, shaking my head at her overexcitement. "You'd be sick of me by then, Lexa."

She glared at me playfully, shoving me in the shoulder. "Never."

I sighed, rolling my eyes with a ghost of a smile on my lips. Secretly, I hoped we'd stay in each other's lives forever. But neither of us knew what the future held, even if we liked to plan it out anyway. 

—

14 years old...

The volunteering job I took with the Commander's personal healer turned out to be more permanent than I thought, as even two years on, I was still working with him and learning more than I ever could have learned anywhere else.

Doing so meant I was at the Tower every day, learning about different medicines, which thankfully I knew a lot about already because of my father, and first aid. I was learning stuff my father couldn't teach me, like cutting out an infection or cauterising a wound. And those were just the little things.

Being at the Tower so often also meant I saw Lexa more and more, without having to find time around her busy schedule. Of course, it was quite literally that – seeing each other and that was it. She was still training as a Natblida and I was still working as a volunteer, but catching a glimpse of her smile every now and then was enough to leave me on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

Of course, as Lexa's cohort grew older, it meant the pressures were getting stronger, and it was certainly having its effect. The last place I expected to see Lexa one afternoon was knocking on the door to the healer's room.

"Lexa," Nyko, the Commander's healer, noticed her first. "Is everything okay?"

Lexa avoided his eyes shamefully as she stepped inside. "Yes. Well– no. I was out hunting and a wild dog bit my arm..."

Only when she said that did my eyes lower to her forearm that she was clutching, black blood staining her sleeve.

"Come in, come in!" Nyko encouraged, before giving me a look that I knew all too well. "Y/N, will you…?"

I was already making a move to clear a space on the bed for her, though this time I was more concerned than usual for our newest patient. In my two years since volunteering, Lexa had never needed to visit. She rarely got injured and when she did, it was never anything serious.

She took a seat on the bed, stretching out her arm on the table next to her for Nyko to take a better look at. I stood beside him, though my eyes were trained on her. She was avoiding my gaze, distracted and seemingly unbothered by her wound. This was very unlike her and I had a million questions on the tip of my tongue.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I'll have to cut your sleeve," Nyko said gently, to which she barely shrugged in response.

My attention fell back to her arm, where Nyko was uncovering her wound with some scissors to her sleeve. It was a nasty bite with sharp, deep teeth marks and a black bloody mess left in its wake.

As usual, Nyko began to explain what he was doing as he did it, cleaning the blood and disinfecting the wound, which elicited a soft groan from Lexa. Then he began to spread an ointment over the top to stop any bacteria infecting the area further before holding out some bandages towards me.

"Think you can wrap her up?" he asked.

I nodded, accepting the bandages and trading places with him. Carefully, I wrapped her wound and taped it off, glancing at her as I did. She still wouldn't look my way and it concerned me.

"Looks good, Y/N," Nyko complimented, patting me on the back, before glancing at Lexa and noticing her distracted self too. "I'll be back. Need some more water. You okay here?"

It was obvious what he was doing, knowing a little of our friendship, and I appreciated it massively. Nodding his way, he offered me a small smile before leaving the room.

"Lexa," I said softly, squeezing her hand gently to earn her attention. "What happened?"

She sighed. "I told you. Dog bite."

"I know that, but... how?"

She shrugged, letting go of my hand and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I was a little distracted I guess."

I frowned, taking in her expression. She looked more tired than usual, her eyes darkened with fatigue.

"You can talk to me," I reminded her. "It's me."

She licked her lips thoughtfully before finally lifting her gaze to meet mine. She stared for a moment, as if debating whether to share how she was feeling, before saying, "Anya asked me to be her second."

Unsure if I'd heard correctly, it took me a second longer to respond. "What? She– what? Lexa, that's– that's great! Isn't it?"

Anya was one of the Commander's most esteemed warriors, having risen through the ranks so quickly at such a young age. For her to recognise Lexa's talent and ask to be her mentor was huge! So, what was the problem?

Lexa creased her brows as she looked down to her hands, one of which was already picking at her bandage subconsciously. I placed my hand on hers, stopping her, and she paused but didn't look up.

"What if I'm not good enough?" she said in such a quiet voice that it didn't sound like it belonged to her.

I raised my brows with disbelief. Lexa was never one to doubt herself, ever. She had no need to! But it made sense why she was so distracted lately. She'd clearly been putting a lot of pressure on herself.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked.

She gave me a disapproving look, upset.

"Lexa," I spoke truthfully, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You're seriously one of the most talented Natblidas there are. Clearly Anya recognises as much if she asked you to be her second."

"I know, but–"

"It's not a test," I told her, eyes flickering between hers. "She wants to make you better. To teach you all she can so you can go on to win Conclave when the time comes. You want that, don't you?"

She nodded weakly.

"Then you're going be okay," I reassured her. "You're more than good enough and she should be lucky to have you."

Lexa swallowed thickly, still uncertain. "Aren't you biased?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Probably. But I also know that everybody sees how amazing of a warrior you are. You're seriously talented. You're intelligent. You're everything the future Commander needs to be. You shouldn't doubt yourself."

She blinked, eyes softening at my words, and I knew I'd said the right thing. Standing up, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me tight, tucking her head into my shoulder. I smiled slightly, returning the hug and rubbing her back.

"Thank you," she muttered, not quite breaking away just yet.

"I mean it," I replied, holding her for as long as she wanted me to.

After a moment, she pulled apart, though her hands lingered on my shoulders for a moment, and mine on her waist. My eyes naturally fell to hers, enamoured by the flecks of gold in her irises, and then I started to admire how beautiful she looked, how she was growing into her features more and more every day. For the first time since knowing her, I really wanted to know what it would be like to kiss her, and that's when I knew I was in too deep.

She had the weight of her world on her shoulders, and the responsibilities of a Natblida weren't light. The last thing she needed was her friendship in ruins because I couldn't keep my thoughts to myself.

"Now, please get some rest and pay attention on your hunts," I said with an awkward smile, taking a subtle step back to distract myself from thoughts of her. "You worried me with this injury of yours."

She cracked a smile, looking down shyly, only intensifying the butterflies in my stomach. "I will. Sorry."

She was my best friend, nothing more. I had to keep telling myself that, that was all.

—

16 years old...

The day that nobody expected had finally arrived. It was a day like any other, myself working with Nyko in the Tower – I was officially in his employ as of last year – when word spread about the Commander's passing.

He'd died in his sleep last night, succumbing to wounds from a battle with Azgeda that took place days ago. It was shocking, since Nyko and I had done all we could and genuinely believed he'd pull through, but his body wasn't as young as it used to be so it only made sense.

His death meant Conclave had to take place immediately, the following morning, and the first person who came to mind was Lexa. I wanted to go see her as soon as I could, but there was no time because of all the preparations that were taking place. All the Natblidas were off limits until the morning, so I couldn't stop by until then.

I thought I'd missed my chance when I slept in and realised the first fight was to take place within the hour. Relief spread through me when I spotted Lexa following some other Natblidas down the hall in the Tower, no doubt to join the rest of them on the battle grounds. I wasn't too late.

As soon as her eyes found mine, they widened with surprise before she slowed down her steps, letting the others walk past her subtly. I joined her side instantly as they left the hall, the two of us meeting in an embrace.

"I thought you weren't coming," she said uneasily, making my heart prick with guilt.

"I'm sorry, they wouldn't let me yesterday and I was running late this morning," I explained apologetically, pulling apart to meet her gaze. "I could never not come to see you, Lexa."

She swallowed visibly, nodding. Though she was as prepared as could be for Conclave, it was still a daunting experience and she seemed nervous.

"You're going to be fine," I told her, taking her hands in mine and squeezing them. "And when you become the Commander, I'm still going to be here for you. Like always."

"If," she corrected.

I shook my head. "You're going to win, Lexa."

"Luna is just as good," she pointed out.

"And you've trained longer than her," I retorted. "Longer than any of them. You can do it."

She pursed her lips, exhaling through her nose.

"I'll be watching front row," I said, eyes darting between hers. "Waiting for you when it's over. When they announce your win."

Her jaw tensed uneasily. "If they don't, this'll be the last time we speak."

I tried my hardest to keep smiling for her sake, but the truth of her words hit me hard. I didn't doubt she wouldn't win, but in the tiniest of chances she didn't, then I'd lose her for good. And then what? Who would I have left?

"We'll speak again," I said with certainty.

She wasn't as confident as I was, her gaze faltering, lip trembling ever so slightly. "But if we don't, Y/N, I... I need you to know that you mean the world to me."

"Lexa, don't–"

"No, just listen," she said firmly, squeezing my hands. "I never had a family. Anya is the closest I have, but it's not the same. Not like it is with you. I couldn't have done this without you, Y/N. Any of it."

I scoffed, teary-eyed at her words. "You definitely could've."

"No," she disagreed, licking her lips.

My heart soared in my chest at the way she spoke, like this would be the final time. It couldn't be, and yet– what if it was? What if this was the last time I could ever tell her the truth about how I'd felt about her all these years? She just opened up to me, so shouldn't I? Could I?

The words were stuck in my throat, as they'd been since I first met her. I wanted to tell her the truth, even if it was the last thing I ever said to her, but I couldn't. I was a coward, as always.

"What is it?" she asked with concern, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I smiled sadly, shaking my head. Even as she watched me with a tender gaze, I couldn't bring it in myself to ruin this. Not now, not when it could be our last moment together.

"Nothing, now come here," was all I said, pulling her in for a final hug so she couldn't see the tears slipping from my eyes.

Maybe a coward was all I would ever be.

—

It was no surprise that Lexa won Conclave and was crowned our new Commander. Even as I watched her fight, occasionally faltering at the swipe of a sword or a lucky punch, I didn't doubt she wouldn't make it. My heart was in my throat a few times, sure, but she always pulled through.

That same evening, she received the Flame in a private ceremony, whilst the rest of the city celebrated the appointment of their new Commander. Meanwhile, I was counting down the minutes until I could finally go and visit her, congratulate her, hold her.

It was late, well into the night, when I was finally allowed upstairs to the Commander's quarters – Lexa's new home – to see her. As soon as the doors opened, I pulled her in for a tight hug.

"You did it," I breathed out with relief as her hands wrapped around my waist. "I knew you would. Congratulations, Lexa. Or should I say Heda."

She chuckled slightly, also relieved, and didn't let go of me just yet. Finally, after a moment, she pulled apart and met my gaze. I couldn't help but notice the cut on her lip and the bruise darkening around her left eye. A small price to pay for the win.

"I have a surprise for you," she said softly, not letting go of my hands.

I tilted my head, confused.

She continued, "You've been working your way to becoming a healer, like Nyko. You're almost there. And as Heda, I'll need my own personal one."

"And you have one," I reminded her. "Nyko."

She shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "That was the previous Commander's. I need my own and Nyko said he trusts you. He will still work for me, but I want you to be mine." I quirked a brow, and she quickly corrected with pink cheeks, "My personal healer, I mean. I want you by my side like we always said."

I swallowed hard, taken aback. "Are you sure?"

She laughed, the room brightening at the sound. "Of course I'm sure!"

I exhaled quietly, smiling all the same. It was hard to believe what she was saying. Yes, we'd discussed this as kids, but I never saw it actually happening. And so quickly? She'd only been crowned Heda hours ago!

"I'd love to," I said appreciatively.

Her smile widened, eyes sparkling with excitement. I almost got lost in the shades of green and gold, heart soaring at the fact that she was still alive, mostly unhurt, the new Commander and right by my side again. The high I was on was unmatched and I truly considered lightening the load even more by telling her the truth about my feelings for her.

But it was the wrong time. She'd just been given a massive responsibility. I couldn't add to that. And I'd been rewarded with so much, including her safety. I needed to be grateful for what I had, not risk ruining it with what I didn't.

[smolvenger]

One Bed (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Fem! Reader)

Summary: You're on a trip for a research project with your sexy professor...and the Air BNB has only one bed.

Warnings: SMUT ! SMUT! This is one of my mostly smuttier pieces! (loss of virginity, use or professor/student relationship as a kink kind of, some oral sex and p in v sex, a bit of dirty talk and it's unprotected, whoopsies). A mild plot in this one but some sweet, fluffy moments.

Word Count: >2 K. A blurb/smaller oneshot (Prof! Tom just does something to me, okay?!)

Dick-tionary: Smut starts at "Take me. Take me good,” you said" and ends at "Here…let me hold you, YN, please…”.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson @steasstuff @anukulee @kimi01985 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @giona45-5 @goddessgirl43

There had been a mistake.

There was your special trip. School funded. To research the historical context and life of 19th-century romantic authors. One you would take with Professor Hiddleston. The days would consist of visiting old houses and attending lectures in between stuffing yourself silly with sandwiches in tea shops. 

All while trying not to secretly oogle the Professor in his suit.

The first day, after a long day of traveling, you attended the first series of lectures. You fought to keep your head from drooping. Both of you ambled down the cobblestoned streets and checked into your stay for the week.

 But there was a mishap in the Air BNB. But the location, no- it was still a cozy, comfortable cottage. One of those in England that seemed like a country house that plopped into a city. 

The problem was that there was only one bed in that room.

The cottage itself was furnished moderately. The chairs were wooden and rickety. The living room had no sofa.

Professor Hiddleston was going to be a gentleman and try to sleep on the floor or the chairs. The picture of his tall body trying to curl himself up to sleep on one made you almost burst into laughter. He was going to find the host and talk to them. 

“It’s big enough! We can just roll away, give each other some space!” you encouraged, gesturing to it.

Before you knew it, you were both in your night clothes. In the bed. A blanket over you.

The beat of your heart raced too fast for sleep. Not to mention your mind for having him near. Seeing him so relaxed. His long curls freed. His glasses were folded in the case on the desk. How his long legs just brushed yours. It was everything in you not to bump your feet flirtatiously to him. Or to even just feel his skin.

It shouldn’t feel this….this…this wrong.

Wrong, wait, you thought, what was wrong?

You both were of age. He was single. You were single. You got along well, incredibly well in fact. He was funny, incredibly kind, wise, and smart as a whip. Not to mention, he was delectable. The way he read Shakespeare out loud would make you wet in a 10 am class. You’d be squirming in his seat as he adjusted his glasses.

When you sat at that lecture, you could see him, Secretly taking glances at you. Your hands just brushed as you took notes. The heat in you jolted you awake and the content of the speech, the reason you were brought here in the first place, seemed like distant white noise compared to his presence close to you.

His breathing was hitching. You heard a rustling. His voice made low and husky, whispering your name.

You turned around.

Before you could process anything, he at once adjusted himself on top of you. Heart beating even harder, feeling his weight pinning you, you began to tremble.

“Pro-Professor?” you asked.

“I don’t care anymore-” he rasped.

He pressed your lips to his. A sound came out of you- you could taste the mint of his toothpaste. He pressed further onto you. Your arms wrapping around to deepen it. He released it, his breath heavy.

“Do you even know what you do to me?” he asked.

You swallowed back the snarky comment that you could feel exactly the effect you had on him brushing against your stomach. Though he was still clothed in his loose white shirt and shorts for sleep. His curls over you. His beard scratches against your skin. Heat rising all over you.

You felt his hands touch you. Tracing down from your breasts to your stomach. And further down. You began to tremble and the pooling sensation was happening between your legs. He reached your neck and pressed a kiss there. An involuntary moan flew out of you. His cock in his pants seemed even more pressed.

“I’ve held back, back for so long, darling, please-” he whispered.

His hand stopped when it reached the hem of your shorts. It released and you nearly whined.

“What…what is it?” you asked.

“I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you,” he whispered.

You were a mess of lust now. You wanted him so badly, and here he was. But yet there was the unknown. The precipice.  

“I’ve never…never been with a..a..a…I’ve never-never done this, professor” you stuttered.

He kissed your cheek. His eyes were soft, a smile on his face.

“I’ll make be gentle, my dear,” he promised.

You were shaking and wet and ready. 

“Take me. Take me good,” you said.

He kissed your neck again, and you let out another moan.

“No one’s here-you can make a sound, darling. It’s only you. And me…don’t be afraid, I’ll make you ready,” he rasped.

His kiss traveled to your chest. Then his hand worked each front button of your shirt. Ceremoniously. Sacredly. He pushed it slowly away to show your breasts. He kissed down your chest and onto one. His lips traveled your stomach and then his hands slif off both your shorts and drenched underwear.

He kissed you and swung you over. Already you felt yourself arch at him.

“Beautiful….you’re fucking beautiful…” he whispered, seeing your bare form. The moonlight slipped through the curtains giving a silver sliver in the room.

The clothes were thrown aside. You were naked. But he was still donned. He held up your leg, arching your back, grinding air. Your arms dangled before the bed and making sure he heard your whimpers, knew how badly you wanted him. He began kissing the inside of your thigh, held up in his large hand. His eyes shone at what lay between your legs.

“Hear my soul speak…” he murmured, reciting Shakespeare.

His lips traveled up. Closer, and closer. 

“The very instant that I did saw you…”

You felt his hot breath right before your soaked entrance.

“My heart did fly into your service…” 

 His tongue gave a lap. You writhed against him. You couldn’t remember being this turned on. His mouth gave little licks. You held onto the bedrail for life. You were going to burst- but you needed him. It was not enough. You wanted more.

“Please…Please, fuck me, Professor…I need your cock…” you began to beg.

He took off his shirt and you were in near shock at his lean, muscular body.

Your heart jumped at his erect, large cock dripping already. You would make it fit. You wanted it to. 

He leaned down, positioning himself right at your entrance. He held a forehead to yours.

“Tell me now you want this…tell me now…and I’ll be slow…”

“I want this…” you confirmed.

You lay down, and his hand flew over yours, holding you in place. He groaned as he entered. He slowly slid in, you were gasping.

“Professor…professor-I…I-oh! Oh god!” you cried out.

The pain came to you and fizzled out. You were gasping aloud. Somehow… you adjusted. 

“I’m going to move,” he announced.

He then thrust in and out of you. A slow pace. His breathing was hard. His cock hitting the right spot. You put your hands up onto his chest. One hand of his left yours and lifted your leg to feel the deeper position.

“God-god, yes-yes..” you were groaning.

“Tell me-Tell me, darling, if I- I need to-to be slow- you’re so-so good, doing so good-” he rasped in between them.

But you were craving it. The release. The ravishment.

“Professor-please-harder- faster- fuck me- fuck me-more-please!” you were begging. Already new and you were his whore and you wanted him. In every way possible.

He complied. He brought up the pace. The board of the bed hits the wall gently, and it creaks beneath your weight. His grunts above you, his curls undone. No more Shakespeare now. He went faster, going deeper.

His hand reached down. He found your clit and began to circle it. You leaned back and moaned.

“Yes- professor-there-”

“That noise- that look- you’re going to make me- make me- you’re going to-”

He traced faster. You felt the spinning rise up. He kept murmuring filth to you.

“God, you’re going to make me-make me cum- look-look in my eyes- so you see me- cum, go on-cum darling, yes-fuck, cum- already- cume for me-”

You were spinning, reaching there-

“Yes-fuck, darling- be a good girl- cum for me- I’m going to-I’m-cum for me-I want-want my little student to-to cum- yes-cum for me, cum for me-I’m cumming, darling, I-”

Heaven entered that little cottage as you cried out his name, oblivion breaking on you between those sheets. He arrived there too, flushed and panting hard with his last groan.

“Here…let me hold you, YN, please…” he offered.

You cuddled onto him, feeling his seed drip somewhat on your skin. And your own release pouring out too. He was warm, sweating, and yet soft, comforting as you cuddled him.

“I…I didn’t know…you just…you’re the type to quote poetry during sex…” you breathed out in a joke, your haze.

“You’re poetry itself,” he said with a last kiss on your forehead.

[midnightstar-90]

Nightmares

Eddie Diaz x GN! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | 9-1-1 Masterlist

Summary: Nightmares have never been a good thing, especially for Eddie.

Warnings: Mentions of Death

A/N: I wrote this before the most recent episode (Shh! No spoilers), so… But if I knew I would have wrote it in. Maybe in a rewrite.

Words: 1.2k words

It was about 11 o’clock at night when I was awakened by my phone. I didn’t know who could be calling me at this hour, especially when everyone knows I have a deposition for a very big case tomorrow. I leaned over, grabbing my phone off the nightstand.

This must be important. I didn’t even think to look at who called before answering. “Hello,” I spoke into the phone, my voice still groggy from just waking up.

“Y/N? It’s dad,” I heard Christopher say through the phone. I quickly sat up after hearing his words.

“What’s wrong with your dad, Chris?” I asked in a slight panic.

“There are crashing sounds coming from his room, and-“ Christopher was cut off by a loud scream coming from somewhere in the background. “-and he keeps yelling like that. He locked his door, and I can’t get in.”

I moved out of my bed and quickly changed into some clothes. I was putting on my pants, with my phone sitting between my shoulder and ear, as I started to speak again. “Okay, Chris. I want you to go to your room and stay there. I’ll be there soon,” I said calmly.

“Okay,” I heard Chris say back, through the phone. And with that, the phone went silent, for a second before I heard a door close. I now knew Christopher was in his room, safe from whatever his father had going on. “Please hurry, Y/N.”

I grabbed my keys and left the house. “I know. I am,” I spoke, getting in my car. “I’m on my way.”I heard a slight “okay” before Chris hung up the phone.

10 minutes was all it took for me to make it to the Diaz house. I quickly turned off the car and ran to the front door. Using my key, I opened their door and made my way in.

As I walked through the house, I walked past Christopher’s room, finding Christopher with his head sticking out. “Go back in your room, Chris. Let me calm your dad down, and I’ll be back to put you back to bed.” I placed a kiss on his forehead and made my way to Eddie’s door.

Before I could knock, a scream was heard from the inside, along with a loud crash. I placed my fist against the door and knocked. “Eddie?” I asked in a motherly voice. It was silent.

I tried the door, but it was locked, so I knocked again. “Eddie, open the door.” Once again it was silent. That was, until the sound of a lock unlocking was heard. I took a second before going to open the door again.

When the door opened, allowing me in, I walked into the room, and the sound of someone sobbing was heard. I maneuvered my way through the room before finding Eddie sitting against his dresser with his chest to his knees and his face rested in his arms. I walked over to Eddie, sitting down next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said through his tears.

I slowly rubbed his back to comfort him. “What happened?” I asked.

Eddie was quiet for a second before he began speaking. “You all we’re dead,” he said softly, choking on his sobs.

“Who?”

“My friends, family… you,” he mumbled. He looked up at me with tears running down his face. I suddenly felt myself begin to tear up as I listened to Eddie speak. “The most important people in my life, gone. And this isn’t the first time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking at Eddie, curious by what he meant.

“I mean that before I would have dreams of losing someone, but now my dream was of everyone. We were all having dinner together when the building collapsed… I was the only one to make it out.” He paused.

I patted his back again, allowing him to let it all out. I looked at Eddie with a sad smile as he stared down at the floor. “Everyone else was gone, and there was nothing I could do,” he said a little louder.

I waited a second before saying, “Well, that was all a dream. I’m here. Chris’ in the other room. And all of your friends will be there when you get back to work. You’re not losing us.”

“Well, what if I do? What if I lose you like I lost my friends in combat?”

Now I knew what this was about. He wasn’t just having dreams about us, but about them too. The people who he fought with. The ones who had his back when he was in war. I didn’t know much about Eddie’s war life, but I knew that he found family within those people like he did me and the 118. So, I could understand why this is so hard for him.

“You won’t loose us. We will always be with you, whether it’s physically or here,” I said, pointing to Eddie’s chest, where his heart was. He sniffled, and his sobs began to slow.

“Come on. Let’s get off the floor and into the bed,” I said, helping Eddie up. We slowly moved towards the bed.

As Eddie laid down on his pillow, I began to notice something shimmering, in my peripheral vision, under the glow of his lamp. I turn and see a photo frame on the floor with broken glass surrounding it. I walked over to the broken frame, bent down, and picked it up. It was a photo of Eddie, Chris, and I at the park. The photo had a white scratch through the middle, maybe from when it fell, and the glass broke. But that didn’t stop the smile that went across my face.

“Y/N?” I heard from behind me. I turned back to Eddie. He was looking up at me with pleading brown eyes. It was almost like looking at a sad puppy. “Don’t leave,” he said. I once again gave him a sad smile before setting the photo down on the dresser and getting in the bed with him.

We laid in his bed together. I held him with his back to my chest. My arm laid across Eddie’s side and our legs were intertwined with each other’s.

A knock at the door made Eddie and I turn to find Chris standing in the door frame. “Dad, are you okay?” He asked, earning a smile from Eddie. He groans, shifting under my hold. “Yeah, Buddy. I’m okay, now.” I smile as I watch the small interaction between the two. “Can I sleep with you guys, tonight?” Chris asked. With a chuckle Eddie and I responded with an “Of course, bub.” and “Yeah. Sure you can.”

Christopher was ecstatic. He tried his best to speed walk over to the bed, and when he finally made it towards us, he got in, curling up under Eddie. I turned around so that I could lean over to turn off the light and got comfortable once more, holding Eddie in my arms. The thought of us all together made me smile. And hopefully, this makes Eddie realize that we do love him, and that we would never leave his side.

“I love you, dad,” Christopher said, sleepily.

“I love you too, bud.”

Taglist: @mrspeacem1nusone @girlnred @okiegirl24 @babypink224221 @iamasimpingh0e @Virginia @alexxavicry @kaitieskidmore1 @vanessaw05 @bellarkeselection @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @icemansgirl1999 @esposadomd @buckysmainhxe @sunwardsss @ineed-myspace-blog

[simpforpeterp]

lucifer morningstar x oc

ONLY ANGEL

summary: A story in which the King of Hell falls in love with a fallen angel who became the most powerful overlord in Hell, the owner of millions of souls, in less than a year. (She obtained them all on accident) (Yes, she accidentally became the most powerful overlord in Hell)

warnings: no specific warnings other than the fact that it's hazbin so (hopefully?) you know what you're getting yourself into

word count: 2.7k

author's note: this is the first chapter of ten uploaded on ao3 and wattpad so far!!!! if you like this chapter please go read the rest on there or ask and i can upload more chapters on here!! :)

Chapter 1: The Fall

no one warns you before the fall

"So," Lucifer began his voice a low murmur, placing his hand on his forehead. "Do you wanna tell me your deal? I've gone through hell and back, pun intended, to track you down."

  "Are you implying I owe you an explanation? Because if that's the case, honesty is key here, right?" She smiles.

  "I- maybe? You know what, sure. Let's run with that," He lets out a dry chuckle. "Spill it, sister. How...how did you become a fallen angel?"

  "This is stupid."

  "It's not stupid, I know that better than anyone." He tries.

  "No, no, no, I don't mean it like I'm ashamed to tell you. I mean...how it happened. I'm fully aware of how stupid this is about to sound but everything that's happened to me, how I got here and became one of the most powerful people in hell within months...it was a complete accident. A series of unforeseen accidents." She tells him, leaning back further in her chair.

  "Are you bullshitting me?"

  "No, okay, listen. I'm not gonna go at this saying I'm completely innocent. Did I sneak into Earth multiple times and do a lot of horrible things like drugs, become the lead singer in one of the biggest bands in existence, and live multiple lifetimes over the decades on Earth? Yes. But that's surprisingly not what got me kicked out. But it did get me 100 hours of heaven's version of court-mandated community service. I had to lead tours of the biggest museum in Heaven. The Museum of Other Religions."

-

  "And here on your left, you'll see a pair of horns from a real-life minotaur. This museum was built centuries ago to show amazing things from our neighbors. With the rule that you have to have at least three people to form a religion, a lot of religions have formed, a lot of them with an afterlife similar to ours. We share these skies with hundreds of others! Even...some bullshit like religions like those who follow the Sonic Bible. Yes, the Hedgehog. And that leads us to...ten golden rings." She sighs, absolutely tired of this work.

  "What's that?" A child points to a large Norse weapon.

  "That's a spear. It looks like a cane, but it's a spear. This famous weapon actually has a name. Gungir is the famous spear of Odin, the King of Asgardian Gods. Actually-" She starts before a loud noise starts next door. It's only her second month of volunteering, she's never heard anything like that.

  "What is that?" A concerned mother asks.

  "Ah...I'm not entirely sure. Everyone, please wait here, I'll go check it out." She says, awkwardly scooting away from the tour group until she reaches the door.

  The air reverberated with deafening screeches, assaulting her ears as she stumbled upon the source of the commotion. A putrid stench, like sulfur mixed with decay, took over her senses, causing bile to rise in her throat.

  The building next door has always had no name and no one was ever allowed in there except for very special people. So, entering the alley between the two buildings probably wasn't a good idea but that's where the noise was coming from.

  That's when she sees a big glowing portal. With a perfect view of hell and angels who definitely do not belong there. Angels who were doing something they shouldn't have been. She shuts the door to the alley and stumbles backwards quickly. A conveniently placed rock causes her to fall backwards, still trying to back away as the portal radiates heat.

  "Watching these stupid fucks die never gets old!" Adam laughs as he watches other angels do their killing. He steps backwards into the portal, watching proudly. That stupid son of a bitch.

  She tries her best to be quiet, not letting him hear even a breath. He sighs and begins to walk into the adjacent building before turning back around and seeing the other angel on the floor, a look of horror on her face.

  "Of course, my fucking luck. Listen here, you little bitch. What you saw? Never happened. Got it? 'Kay, thanks! Bye!" He throws a smoke bomb on the floor, filling her lungs and making her cough relentlessly.

  It leaves a hollow feeling in her chest as she tries to hit it out of her lungs with her wrist. The portal is gone when the smoke clears up. Well, mostly. The thick black smoke is slowly rising, just barely out of her face.

  "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The head Seraphim comes out from the museum.

  "Oh, f- my group. I'll head back in n-"

  "Christy took your group. You're coming with me." Sera says coldly before leading the way to the heavenly court.

  They appear there within seconds. The room is almost empty. Just Sera, Emily, and a few others who are usually involved in the proceedings. And it's horrifying. It's a known fact, a joke in Heaven, about how the only other time this room was like this was when Lucifer fell.

  "L-look, if this is about Lute, she only hates me because I tried to tell her to stop yelling at the first graders whenever she passes by." The Angel tries to deflect.

  "I have heard much about you, Eleanor." Sera begins.

  "Really? That's- that's uh- really dedicated," She clears her throat awkwardly. "You can call me Ellie though."

  "Eleanor, we have let a lot of things slide with you. You've broken over fifty cardinal rules. We've only punished you for five. We thought your volunteer work would help you but then I find you away from your group, smoking in the alley?"

  "Woah, woah, woah, smoking? Me? I haven't smoked since the sixties!" She puts her hands up in defense before mumbling. "Cigarettes, anyway."

  The people in the room begin whispering and it's overwhelming.

  "Look, please, you've gotta believe me. I know I've messed up in the past but I can explain myself. I was with my group, okay? And then we heard this noise and I decided to go check it out and it was horrible! I saw this big portal and- and- it was to Hell!" She starts frantically explaining before everyone's faces change quickly. "Angels were there, they were killing those poor souls in hell! Adam! You were there, you saw it." She points to the man sitting.

  "Huh? Oh, yeah, I don't know what you're talking about." He shrugs.

  "What? No- but I saw it! I was there, I know it was Hell and I know they were killing sinners. They were wielding angelic weapons and- and-" She tries.

  "Enough," Sera holds her hand up and everything falls silent. "The court stands firm in this decision, you were supposed to stay with your tour group, you barely had half your hours done. This was your final warning-"

  "But it wasn't my fault! There were these loud screams and explosions and this horrible smell, I wasn't trying to be irresponsible and leave my tour group. I was trying to comfort them and let them know the noise was nothing more than something normal but I couldn't do that because apparently angels can be murderers!" Ellie raises her voice.

  "We've never allowed anything of the sort to happen. You must be making this up. But perhaps this is for the best, this was never the place for you. It was only a matter of time before we had to do this." Sera sighs.

  "Before I got kicked out? You all think I'm trouble just like everyone else here." She shakes her head, trying to step back but she can't. She's frozen.

  "Lute?" Sera calls. "Get her wings and halo, now."

-

  "But the exterminations are real, they do happen. They just- they lied to you and said you were the liar? That's...fucked up." He breathes out.

  "I learned that the hard way when I saw the big countdown on that big white tower. But I couldn't just sit around and lick my wounds. So, I got up and held onto the walls to make sure I didn't lose my balance without my wings. I was bleeding down the entire back of my shirt but I didn't want anyone to think I was dead and eat me. I had no idea where I was but then I started meeting all kinds of new people." She shrugs.

  "And so you just randomly turned evil and started taking souls?" He asks.

  "I'm not evil, dude. I'm an idiot, sure, but I'm not evil." She tries.

  "You own millions of souls by yourself. You've been here for a year."

  "Okay, this is about to look like a lie because of, again, how stupid this is. But that was also an accident."

  "Come on!" He laughs loudly, literally slapping his knee.

  "What? It was!" She manages a giggle too, leaning slightly forward.

   "I- oh, hold on. I have to call my daughter really quick, I'm not making it to this meeting. Sorry, Darlin'." He winks with a wide grin.

  "No, god bless you, baby." She smirks as he stands up, keeping his eyes on her as his smile never drops.

 

-

  Ellie breezed into the crowded bar, her presence drawing curious gazes from the denizens of Hell. With a nonchalant smile, she approached the overlord seated at the center of the room, his imposing figure exuding an aura of dominance. The demon, adorned in extravagant robes adorned with glistening jewels, regarded her with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

  By then, rumors had begun to spread about her rise to power. Her presence immediately commanded attention despite her seemingly unassuming appearance. Her light brown wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders in her white sundress. She looked utterly angelic, standing out like a sore thumb.

  "What's your deal, babe? You dealin' in souls looking like that?" The demon chuckles.

"That's usually how it goes. Usually, I say, 'If I win in a game of tic-tac-toe, I get your soul,' and then you say-" Eleanor chirped, her tone playful and carefree.

The overlord's laughter rumbled through the room, a deep and menacing sound that reverberated off the walls.

  "You? Win my soul? That's funny, little angel. But very well, indulge me," he chuckled, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

With a snap of his fingers, a makeshift tic-tac-toe grid materialized before them, the lines etched in crimson fire against the darkened backdrop of the bar. Eleanor's grin widened as she accepted the challenge, her fingers tracing the X's and O's with childish delight.

  She plays the game and everyone around can smell off of her that she has no idea the power she holds. People don't treat souls like a big deal unless you're dealing with them. How was she supposed to know if she had no friends in hell?

  As the game unfolded, Ellie approached it with the same innocence and naivety that had defined her existence thus far. Each move she made was guided by whimsy rather than strategy, her laughter filling the air as she reveled in the simplicity of the game. Her having learned the trick to win almost every time years ago gave her the unearned confidence of a white man.

  But to the overlord's growing horror, Eleanor's seemingly random moves began to form a pattern—a pattern that ultimately led to her victory. With a triumphant giggle, she declared her win, completely unaware of the gravity of her actions.

  The overlord's expression darkened, his features twisted in rage as he realized the consequences of his defeat. "No...this can't be!" he growled, his voice filled with anger.

  But Ellie just shrugged, her carefree demeanor undiminished. As the overlord begrudgingly handed over his soul, the realization dawned on him that Eleanor's ascent to power in Hell was not the result of cunning or calculation, but sheer innocence and luck—a fact that made her all the more dangerous. She has no idea what kind of power she holds.

-

  "No, no way, you're telling me that's how you got all those souls? A children's game? And no one owns your soul? You've won every time?" Lucifer laughs even louder than before.

  "I mean, yeah! Maybe I'll show you how sometime." She laughs with him.

  "So, were you just doing this to millions of people, thinking it was a fun game for almost a year?"

  "Yeah, pretty much. Well, not necessarily to millions. As I played with more people, I would joke that if I won I would get their soul and every other soul they own. That kind of picked up my numbers. Fun fact, I only found out that it indeed was not a joke last week. Only after I became the owner of millions of souls. But it was never in a malicious way. I was just trying to make friends. It always struck me as weird that I would find decent enough people and after we played tic-tac-toe they would be scared or wouldn't want to be around me anymore. It never occurred to me that I was and was not the problem at the same time." She explains.

  "So, you're really not evil, huh?" He smiles at her again.

  "Unfortunately, I'm not evil. But I've only been here for a year." She gives him a smile that grabs his attention. A cute smile.

  "Ellie?" He hums.

  "Your Highness." She hums back.

  "Please, call me Lucifer. Anything else is too fancy. Unless you want to call me baby again." He leans the slightest bit closer to her with a smile.

  "What were you saying, baby?" She says in the same flirtatious way she did before.

  "Is your place around here? I don't have anything else to ask you, you don't seem to be as big of a threat as I thought. You are insanely powerful and own the most souls but without the malicious intent, we should be good to go, darlin'." He chuckles.

  "My place is an idea, a concept. My place is a thought. I go where I want, basically." She shrugs.

  "You don't have a home?" He asks.

  "Nah, when I found out this is where I'm gonna be forever, I wanted to explore everything. But now I think I've explored everything so I should probably get on that. You know, find a place fit for an overlord. If I was scary enough to strike your fancy, I should have somewhere to fit that, right?" She shrugs.

  "Come home with me." He sits up straighter.

  His voice carries a hint of vulnerability, his gaze showing a flicker of loneliness. He extended the invitation to Ellie not just out of duty as the King of Hell, but because he could see right through her. She brushes everything about it heaven off. The way she fell, the way she had to find her way in this awful place, she made it seem like no big deal. But he knows it's not. This place is scary, especially to outsiders.

  And maybe he does have slightly ulterior motives. Everything about her is so familiar. The way she held herself, her feet quickly tapping on the floor, the way everything went down. He's been so in need of companionship and he can't help but want to know her better.

  "You know...I would, but I um, have something to do later, not that it's more important than you, the king of hell, but I-" She starts to nervously make an excuse.

  "No, sorry! I meant, come stay with me. For now. You're an angel, a fallen angel, just like me. I- I know what it's like to be just...cast out like nothing. I can't just throw you back into hell like I never met you. I want you to come stay with me," He throws in a small smile at the end. "I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine. I can't force you. But I think I'm a pretty good roommate."

  "Did I also accidentally find the King of Hell's soft spot?" She giggles and gets one out of him too.

  "I guess you did, Ellie. So...what do you say?" He asks, slightly nervous and not sure why.

  "You know what...sure. Why not?"

[m1lflov3rrr]

Hi hiiiiii! Firstly, lemme just say I absolutely ADORE your fics on wattpad and im SO thrilled you're also here on tumblr now??!?!? An absolute treat, this is <3

Anyways as for requests— can I request Larissa and/or Marilyn dealing with Y/N who's got a really bad sleeping schedule thanks to having the WORST case of insomnia? (fluff most appreciated, but IF you want somth more spicy to deal it, I wouldn't say no to it hehe 💕 :3c)

Thank you sm <3

Thank you for the request and so sorry it took literally MONTHS!!! But here it is now!! And thank you for your kind words, means so much to me <3 I really hope you enjoy this, I made a few changes to it. I don’t have that much experience with insomnia, but with sleep deprivation so I wrote about that, I hope it is okay!

No Rest for the Wicked

Pairing: Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Warnings: sleep deprivation, health issues, fainting, worrying, fluff

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Larissa tries to help you when she notices how little you’re sleeping…

You sighed deeply as you raised your gaze from your laptop and looked out the window. A heavy fog had descended on the school grounds, reaching as far as the tired eye could see. 

The fog was persistent, it was thick. 

You felt like your thoughts were similarly clouded. You smiled at the irony. 

Returning your gaze back to your work, you looked at the time, it was way past 4 am already. Larissa would wake up soon. 

For the past few weeks it had been like this. You were staying up late, only getting a few hours of sleep a night. And sometimes, like tonight, no sleep at all. 

You felt that you didn’t have enough time. The work load you had felt like the weight of the world rested on your shoulders. You had stacks of ungraded papers, lesson plans to finalize, and a curriculum to update. 

You were exhausted. 

You tried your best to hide it, you didn’t want Larissa to get worried. Because her concern would’ve broken your heart. 

Every day went like this: You ’got up’ at 6, prepared for your lessons of the day and started at 8, taught for 8 hours straight, got back to your shared quarters and spent the rest of the night with Larissa. And after she had fallen asleep, you’d finish your work and prepare for the next day. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell your wife how much workload you’d had recently and how overwhelming it was for you. You had had difficulties in the past finding time to spend together, and after months of you both trying to work it out, it was, indeed, working. 

But lately, it had become too much. With the work, of course. You knew that Larissa would get concerned and start panicking and rushing things to make it better. You didn’t want that. She had her own job to do, which definitely had a workload twice as big as yours was. You felt pathetic. Your wife does three times the work you do in a day and you’re still stressed? Yes, pathetic. 

You finished your lesson plans for the day, just to save yourself some time later. 

It was 5:13 am when you were done. You rubbed your temples to ease your already growing headache as you got up from the desk, swayed there for a bit before making your way to the bathroom. 

You winced at your reflection in the mirror. Your dark and puffy undereyes were still there, if not even more bad and noticeable. This was the first time in your 25 years of living that you had had eye bags. You knew it was bad. 

You hopped in the shower to keep yourself up and maybe gather some energy to get through the day. At first the cold water did wake you up a bit more. Then, when you turned it a little bit warmer, you realized how bad of an idea it was. The warm water relaxed all those tense muscles in your body and you closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling. 

And your eyes stayed closed for a bit too long. If you weren’t so tired, you would have laughed at yourself. The image of you half asleep, standing in your shower. What in the actual fuck, really? 

But something made you jump and push your body’s cries for help and sleep to the back of your mind. 

”Darling?” You heard Larissa’s hoarse morning voice call out to you from the door. 

”Mhm?” You hummed as you turned the water back to cold to not almost fall asleep again. 

”Nothing, just wondering how you’re up so early every morning this week, usually it’s a task itself to get you up,” She chuckled at her own words. 

You smiled to yourself and turned the faucet off, stepping out of the shower so you could see her. 

You noticed how she was checking you out, biting her lip as her eyes roamed across your body. You smirked at her as you took your towel and dried yourself, about to wrap it around your bare body. 

She quickly snapped out of her trance and stepped forward, taking the towel in her hands and unwrapping it, causing it to drop on the floor. 

”I don’t think we’ll be needing that.” She said in a low tone as she pulled you flush against her body by your waist, attacking your neck with her mouth. 

You hummed in delight and closed your eyes in satisfaction at the sudden move, wrapping your hands around her neck. 

You let out little gasps, you couldn’t even let out a simple moan because of your sleep-deprived state. 

And it felt so good, feeling your wife’s lips on your neck, still keeping your eyes shut, leaning into her, maybe leaning too much, starting to drift off, losing your balance… 

Your eyes snapped open when your heard Larissa’s sudden, loud gasp, as she had her arms tightly wrapped around your torso to keep you from falling to the hard floor. 

”Darling, what on earth just happened here?!” She asked in shock as you stood up. 

You took a moment to process what she just said, just because you couldn’t think as fast as usual. 

”What? M’sorry, just got a little.. distracted there, I think..” You responded hazily, trying to focus your eyes to look into hers. 

She ducked her head a bit, trying to get a closer look of you and inspecting your condition. ”Are you alright? You had me worried there, are you sure you want to go to work today? You can take the day off, okay?” 

Your eyes widened in panic, ”No, no, Rissa I am absolutely fine, and I will not be taking the day off. You shouldn’t be concerned, I am okay.” You said hurriedly and walked away, leaving your wife standing in the bathroom, extremely confused and concerned. 

-

”Okay, I think it’s time we all head for lunch, see you guys tomorrow!” You announced the class with a smile, packing your things and leaving for the dining hall. As you entered the hall, you seached for your wife with your eyes, as you always ate lunch together. She wasn’t there. 

You yelped loudly when you felt someone grab your shoulder from behind, causing some people nearby to look at your weirdly. You turned around, ”God, you scared me, Rissa,” You breathed out. 

She just responded with a laugh, sliding her arm to the small of your back and guiding you to walk together to get the food. 

As you sat down, you began eating in silence. You opened a can of energy drink, something that you’d been drinking a lot these days. You didn’t usually even drink those that often, but you needed something to keep you up and awake. 

Larissa sent you a scolding look, a frown tugging at her lips. ”Y/N, what’s this?” 

You widened your eyes, you didn’t want her to find out like this. Or any other way. ”Oh, that’s just an energy drink. Thought it might give me a little boost.” 

She narrowed her eyes slightly, ”A boost? Y/N, darling, this isn’t healthy. Are you not sleeping enough?” 

You smiled, but it was forced. ”Rissa, I’m fine. It’s just been a busy week.” 

She sighed, looking at you with worry-filled eyes. ”Y/N, I can see something is going on, don’t shut me out. Whatever it is, I’m here to help you. We’re a team, remember?” 

Your gaze softened, you were really lucky to have her. But you didn’t want her to know. You didn’t want her you worry about you, because when Larissa got worried, it was all she could think about. She couldn’t work, rest, do anything. She’d have to get to the bottom of it. 

You pursed your lips and took her hand in yours, ”I know, and I appreciate that. But I’ve got this, Rissa. Trust me.” 

-

It had been a few days since that, and your condition and fatigue were only growing worse. Your work load seemed to have doubled since that day. You were trying (and struggling) to stay awake with the constant consumption of caffeine. 

The fog was growing thicker and thicker. You barely could see where you were walking. 

Larissa had had enough. She had been watching your extremely concerning situation unfold in the past few days into something much more worrying. She couldn’t bear seeing you suffer like this for a moment longer. This had to end now. 

You were sitting in your classroom, head buried in your hands as you tried to take a deep breath so that the pounding headache you had recently gotten would go away. You’d taken more aspirin than you probably should have, but it didn’t do anything. You were feeling miserable, physically, and that way, emotionally, too. 

Your eyes began to feel heavier and heavier, and you almost didn’t hear the sharp knock on your classroom door. You flinched harshly at that, squeaking a quiet, ”It’s open.” 

You heard the door opening and the familiar clacking of heels filled the room. 

”Darling?” 

Her voice was soft, almost a little wary. 

You raised your gaze to meet hers, ”Yes?” 

Her eyes were filled with concern, barely hidden. ”I’m worried about you. I can see that something’s going on, and if you’d just please, please let me in, I could help you. Okay?” 

You pursed your lips. You knew this was coming. ”Larissa there is absolutely no reason for you to worry. I am fine, okay?” Your voice was a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. 

”No, you’re not.” She snarled, her tone of voice contrasting the one she had just moments prior. ”You’ve been running on fumes for days! Darling, this… this can’t go on any longer.” Her voice broke as her eyes held a silent plea. 

Your jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor. ”I can handle it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep convincing yourself that. 

”Y/N you almost collapsed earlier! This can’t go on.” She stepped closer, reaching her hand out to touch your shoulder. 

You shrugged off her touch, ”It was nothing. Just a moment of dizziness.” 

Larissa scoffed, her patience was wearing thin. ”And what happens when it’s not just a moment? What happens when you can’t get back up?” 

Something in that comment did it. Your eyes flashed with fury as your tone of voice turned into one laced with venom.  ”You just don’t get it, Larissa! I can fucking handle myself!” 

Her brows furrowed and you could’ve sworn you almost saw her flinch a little. ”Look, I am not trying to belittle you. I just want and need you to take care of yourself.” 

Your head tilted as your eyes held nothing but defiance in them. You felt your breathing pick up, uncontrollably, and how that pounding headache seemed to double, you started feeling a little lightheaded. But you chose to do what you’d been doing for god knows how long now. You ignored it. 

”I don’t, I don’t need you constantly watching over me.” You said, out of breath. 

Your wife’s expression dropped as she realized your condition and what could be happening next. She approached you cautiously, attempting to try and calm you down. ”Y/N, darling, this is not about control. It’s about caring for you.” She told calmly, cupping your face with her soft palm. 

You shook your head, ”You suffocate me, Larissa! I can’t breathe with you hovering over me all the time!” 

Larissa’s heart sank at that. She never meant for it to come to this. She only wanted the best for you, to protect you. 

”Y/N, please, I…” 

Your breathing laboured and before she could finish, your legs gave way and you collapsed on the cold, hard floor. 

”Y/N!” Larissa’s voice came out as a terrified cry as she rushed forward to try and catch you, but she was too late. 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she knelt beside you, shaking you gently and trying to wake you up. ”Y/N, can you hear me?! Please, say something..” 

Your eyes fluttered open, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Your breathing was still laboured and the words you tried to speak came out as a strained whisper. 

”Y/N, I’m taking you to the infirmary.” She breathed out as she scooped you up in her arms and rushed out the classroom. 

-

Since then, you and Larissa made an agreement. Well, you didn’t have much say in it, since Larissa demanded it. 

Larissa began monitoring your schedule, making sure you were following the new schedule she had made for you. And there was no room for negotiaton, absolutely no exceptions. 

Larissa also began cooking more, preparing the meals with care and love, making sure each one was balanced with important nutrients to get your energy levels for the better. 

Bedtime was the most strictly monitored. As evening approached, Larissa would guide you through a calming routine. She’d prepare a warm bath with your favourite scents, she’d slip in as well and wash your hair for you, massaging your head to calm you down. Then, she’d dress you into comfortable pyjamas and lead you to bed, prepare you a nice cup of tea and dim the lights. 

And she’d lull you to sleep with soothing caresses and words of affirmation, telling you how much she loved you, again and again, kissing your whole body as she did so. 

And it worked perfectly. You were feeling both, physically and mentally better. The dark circles under your eyes were slowly fading away, your energy starting to gain back. You also growed to appreciate your wife a thousand times more.

One evening, you were sitting in your shared bedroom, by your desk. Your laptop was open and you were determined to finish grading some papers for your students. Then, Larissa entered the room, the stern look on her face telling everything. ”Darling, it’s time for dinner.” 

You sighed, closing the laptop as you didn’t want to argue about it. And you were starving too. 

You ate in silence with her, you occasionally stealing glances at her. The way she fussed about your portion sizes, making sure you got the right nutrients for your health - you heart warmed as it was all an expression of love. 

Once you were finished, she led you to bed, undressing you and helping you with your pyjamas. I could’ve done that myself, you thought. 

”Now, off to bed. You need your rest, dearest.” 

You smiled as she laid down next to you, caressing your hair and kissing you softly. And you kissed her back, again and again.  Soon, you fell into a peaceful slumber, under Larissa’s loving gaze. She laid a final kiss on your forehead, ”I love you, my darling.” She whispered before drifting off as well. 

And if you looked outside, you’d have noticed that the fog had finally cleared. 

[imhidingfromschool]

Professor- Nanami

WC: 3,329

TW: uhhhh n/sfw? use of words like doll and good girl? idk, kinda public, prof/student relationship

AN: This was a request I did on my wattpad, it isn’t proof read 😋

His warm hand slides up my shirt, warming my icy skin. I can barely hold in a moan as he grinds against my throbbing heat. His gentle eyes stare at me with such love that I can't help but give myself to him.

"[Y/N]?? Hello are you with us [Y/N]?" Your teacher Nanami Kento calls out, snapping you from your not so innocent day dream.

Your face burns red, no way you just had some weird sex fantasy about your teacher...mid-class?! You stand up from your seat and grab your text book, preparing to read.

"No, no need to read [Y/N], you just seemed...distracted. I have a low tolerance for daydreamers." He says causing your blush to deepen. You immediately sit back down, hearing some of your classmates snicker.

When the bell finally rings you begin to pack up your bag. Of course with your shitty luck you spill your pencil case and end up staying later than your other classmates.

Finally when you get your stuff together you head towards the door. You can't even make eye contact with your teacher, the embarrassment is too much to bare.

"Wait [Y/N] come here for a moment please." You hear Mr. Nanami call out. You stop in your tracks and slowly turn around. You mentally prepared yourself for the scolding you were about to receive.

"Yes sir?" You ask, still avoiding eye contact with him.

"I was just wondering if everything's alright? You've seem to be spacing out more and more often in class. I'm just worried about you." He says while placing a gentle hand onto your shoulder.

Honestly you were shocked, Nanami Kento was famous for his harsh punishments. You once heard a rumor that he kicked a student out of his class for dropping a pencil!

You stare into his warm eyes, they're so different from his normal piercingly cold ones. Fuck, this man has no idea what he's doing to you. If it wasn't so taboo you would have already made a move. You're both adults so what does it matter?

No! That's only the horny talking, you know you can't hit on your teacher! You think to yourself, trying to snap yourself out of your lewd thoughts.

"Ah I'm sorry sir, recently my parents have been going through a divorce and things have just been weird. Especially with my father, we've never been especially close." You say to him, technically it wasn't a lie, you and your father had always had a...strained relationship to say the least.

"Okay, just let me know if you need anything." He says and you quickly thank him before scurrying out of the room.

Your friend is waiting for you outside with a smirk plastered across her face.

"So how was getting chewed out by the infamous Nanami Kento. I'm sure that crushed your little crush on him." She says with a wink that causes your blush to return.

You made the mistake of telling your friend about your crush on your Professor. She constantly teases you about it.

"Actually he was super sweet and understanding. He said that I could go to him if I needed anything." You say with a soft smile, thinking back on his warm touch.

Later that night when you finally get to your dorm your friend plops right down onto her bed and passes out.

You envied her carefree nature, she was naturally so smart. You sat down at your desk and opened your textbook to your assigned homework. You sighed, your one little not so innocent day dream set you back way farther than you thought.

You were already struggling but now it felt like everything was in a different language! Nothing was making sense and your grades were already slipping.

You tapped your head against your desk, you needed to start getting more serious. Grades would be sent home soon and your dad would not be okay with any of these.

Slowly you open your lap top and start your intense study session. You watch several youtube videos and read several articles. After all of that you still felt like you only understood a fraction of the lesson.

Unfortunately the sun had already begun to rise. Panic immediately sets in as you realize you went the whole night without sleeping.

The next few weeks are a blur of trying to improve your grades but miserably failing. You try to ask your roommate for help but she's terrible at explaining.

"Just do it! I don't get what you don't understand [Y/N], just go through these four steps!" She insists but it never gets through your thick skull.

Finally the day has arrived, the day you have been dreading for the last few weeks. The day that your grades get released to your parents.

You knew your mother wouldn't care, she was always so supportive. She knew you were doing your best and that was enough for her.

On the other hand your father was cruel, always has been and probably always will be. He would send you harsh messages, and scream at you for the slightest failures. If it wasn't first then it was last to him.

Shockingly enough it had been two days since grades had been released and nothing. No messages, missed calls, or even voicemails. Maybe he had missed it, either way you were relieved. Until it happened.

DING

Your phone lights up with a message from none other than your father. You stare down in horror, you know the worst is about to happen.

[Daughter],

I'm not just disgusted; I'm questioning how someone I raised could sink so low. You've not only let me down; you've shattered any pride I had in being your parent. It's shameful to be associated with the poor decisions you're making. Your recent behavior is beyond disappointing; it's utterly shameful. Your choices not only reflect a profound lack of character but also make me question the values I thought I had instilled in you. Frankly, associating with someone displaying such a flagrant disregard for decency is nothing short of humiliating.

Revulsion,

[Your Father]

You stare down at the message in shock, he didn't even bother to use your name. You quickly run into a nearby classroom, trying to hide the tears that have begun to well up in your eyes.

You collapse, leaning against the wall and falling to the floor. Tears begin to pour out of your eyes as you reread the message. After that paragraph he continued to send more harsh messages, messages that you couldn't even repeat out loud.

CLICK

Your eyes shoot up to the door to your left. You thought you had stumbled into an unused classroom but you realized a little too late that you're in your math professors room.

"[Y/N]?" You hear a familiar voice call out. Your eyes widen in horror, it's Mr. Nanami.

Quickly you scramble to your feet. You try to wipe away your tears but there's no hiding the red rim around your eyes and puffy face.

"Ah I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was your classroom Sir." You say with a quick bow, swiftly walking towards the door.

"Wait-" He says, grabbing your wrist gently and spinning you around. You fall forward into his chest from the quick movement.

Your face irrupts into flames from the close proximity and you slowly take a step back. His face is unreadable and the two of you just stand there in silence for a moment.

Finally he breaks the silence."Are you okay?" He says slowly reaching for your face, rubbing a stray tear away with his thumb. Your eyes widen in shock, the man in front of you who is known for being cruel is being so unbelievably gentle.

"Mr. Nanami-"

DING

That one noise was enough to send you reeling. It was like you lost all control of your body as the grief washed back over you. Your head falls against his chest and he quickly wraps his arms around you.

"[Y/N] what's going on? Talk to me please." He says while rubbing circles into your back. It takes you a second to catch your breath and realize who arms you're in.

"Omg I'm sniff so sorry Mr. sniff Nanami!" You speak out between sobs, trying to pull yourself together.

"Don't worry [Y/N] you're safe, let it out." He says, pulling you back into the safety of his arms. You sob into his arms while he gently caresses your hair, the size difference between you two being incredibly present.

"Good girl, just like that." The innocent words caused your face to engulf into flames, your tears beginning to slow.

Eventually your sob comes to a complete stop and you slowly step away, begrudgingly leaving the warmth of his arms.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Nanami it's just some family issues, I really shouldn't have reacted like this, I'm so sorry." You begin to apologize profusely, embarrassment kicking in.

"It's really no problem [Y/N], I'm here whenever you need." He says with the softest smile ever. Your heart nearly skips a beat before you scurry away.

Over the next couple of weeks you avoid Nanami like the plague. Quickly leaving class as soon as the bell rings. The embarrassment from your pathetic actions have truly stared to get to you.

Unfortunately today you couldn't rush out as fast as usual. You were taking a math exam when the bell rang, and you hadn't finished.

"Ah, sorry, Mr. Nanami I didn't finish." You say with an adorable pout.

"I'm staying after school today, if you'd like the come finish it later." He says, glancing up from his desk briefly to address you.

"That would be great, thank you Mr. Nanami!" You say with an enthusiastic smile, trying to ignore your pounding heart.

Finally the time has come, your last period has ended and it's time to head back to your math room.

Your heart is practically leaping out of your chest, just you and Nanami, alone together. Considering the fact that there's also a near by basketball game the school will be practically empty.

knock knock

"Hello Professor? It's me [Y/N], I'm here to finish my test." You say sheepishly, the door slowly opens and you're met with Nanami gazing down at you.

The two of you just stare at each other for a long moment before Nanami clears his throat, stepping aside. You thank him before heading inside and sitting at your usual desk.

He gives you your test back and the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you work through the unanswered questions.

"Shit" You huff under your breath. You couldn't remember the equation you had to use for this specific word problem.

The way it was worded was similar to another equation. You knew it wasn't that but you just couldn't for the life of you remember what it was.

"Hm?" Nanami hums out, standing over your shoulder, watching your struggle against mathematics. You startle slightly, you hadn't even heard him stand up.

"Use the Pendulum Formula." He whispers as if someone else was in the room, someone waiting to bust through the door and yell at him for giving away answers.

You look over your shoulder, making eye contact with him. He was so close you could practically feel his breath on your face.

The tension was so thick you could practically taste it. His eyes on your lips and yours on his, you knew it was wrong, but was it really that bad?

Within seconds his lips are attached on yours. Your arms fly up, desperately grabbing at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

You don't even notice as he picks you up off of your chair, seating you on his desk. Your to focused on him, and the taste of his sweet lips.

Neither of you could get enough, your legs wrapping around his waist, him grinding against your clothed pussy.

Begrudgingly the two of you pull apart, gasping for air. His head falls onto your shoulder, arms tightening around your figure, you were so small compared to him, practically caged between his arms.

"W..We should stop." He huffs out, but you knew that was the last thing he wanted, you could tell from the large bulge rubbing against your inner thighs. He wanted this just as badly, if not more than you did.

"I know, but I really don't want to." You say, tightening your grip on his hair and pulling him back into a sloppy kiss.

His hands roam your body, sliding his warm hands under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands take little time making their way up to your breasts, pulling your bra down but not off. Leaving your breasts exposed to the cold air, your nipples immediately hardening.

You don't just sit there idly while he toys with you, you're making quick work of his belt. Quickly undoing it and unzipping his pants.

You slide your hand inside, against his clothed heat, still being protected by his underwear.

The two of you pull away from each other once more, though this time it's for the sole purpose of undressing. Immediately you reach for the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over, leaving your perky nipples on complete display.

He groans at the sight, barely being able to focus on the small buttons that line his shirt. You take pity on the man and help him out.

Your breath nearly gets stuck in your throat as you watch him take off his shirt, teasingly slow. His chiseled body on complete display all for you.

Gently he clears his desk, gently pushing you down on the now cleared area. He hovers over you, so large you can't even tell that he's still standing.

He starts with your lips leaving feather light kisses down to your jaw, your throat, and your collarbone. When he gets to your breasts he pauses for a moment before kitten licking your right nipple.

Your legs squeeze around his waist at the feeling, letting out a moan that sounded more like a squeak. His right hand comes up, sliding across your thigh all the way up to your left nipple, making sure it's receiving the same attention.

It was heavenly, but it wasn't what you wanted, no needed what you needed was him, all of him.

"P-Please Nanami, I w-wanna feel you." You barely manage to squeak out, moaning in between syllables.

He unlatches from your chest with a pop before moving back up to kiss you. The kiss only momentarily distracted you from his quick fingers.

You felt your belt loosen and your pants unbutton and in what felt like a mere second you were just in your panties.

He pulls back to take a look at you, completely flushed with you bra unceremoniously pull down, your arm placed on your forehead and you pretty pink panties with a noticeable wet spot.

Fuck he could almost cum just from the sight of you. You watch his every move, desperate for him to touch you, anywhere at this point.

He wanted to take his time, he wanted to make love to you, show you that he really did care about you and this wasn't just some one night stand, but after seeing you so desperate for him he knew that'd have to wait for another day.

Swiftly he slides his underwear down, allowing his dick to spring free, practically slapping his stomach. The tip was flushed red, precum practically drowning out.

Carefully and slowly he aligns himself with your entrance, practically teasing you as he slides himself through your folds a few times, mixing both of your fluids together, creating plenty of slick.

You reach up, wrapping you arms around his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss as he slowly, painstakingly slowly enters you.

The two of you pant and mewl into the kiss, both completely blissed out from the feeling. Your warm velvety walls are sucking him in so nicely, you're so fucking tight he can barely handle it, and fuck he fills you up so nicely, the stretch feeling more pleasurable than you could've imagined.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before he begins to move, but it's not enough. He's going to slow, to sensual, what you need is for him to fuck you, have you seeing stars.

"M-More, fffffuckkk, Nanami harder please." You moan out, squeezing around him.

"F-Fuck, whatever you say Doll." He says and the nickname only causes your heart to flutter and your pussy to beg for more.

Oh and does he deliver. He grabs either side of your hips, holding you securely in place as he pounds into you. When he finds your prostate he practically abuses the squishy area.

He's groaning and huffing above you, trying his absolute hardest to hold out, to not cum on the spot from your warm walls.

As he feels his release approaching one of his hands snake down to rub at your throbbing flit. Your legs wrap around him, somehow even tighter as you let out a whiny moan, pleasure hitting you.

"F-Fuck, I'm almost there." He groans out and he can tell you are too, he can tell by the pulsations, your pussy practically sucking him in deeper.

Without any warning he pulls out and you whine, your hole grasping at nothing. The empty feeling making you whine out in disagreement.

He doesn't make you wait long though, plunging two fingers inside of you. Mercilessly fingering you and practically abusing your clit with his skilled younger.

He has you cumming in mere minutes, but the two of you aren't done yet, no he still hasn't cum. Without even letting you catch your breath after you intense orgasm he pulls your practically limp body off of his desk and onto the floor.

You sit down, staring at him with glazed eyes. Your mouth practically watering at the sight of his dick, it's practically crying for your help.

You spare little time, wrapping your soft delicate fingers around the base and gently licking the tip. He groans, "fuck please, don't tease me."

You smile at his politeness and decide to listen, taking him in your mouth. He's huge and you're practically choking but it's exhilarating. Your heart is racing and your pussy is dripping from excitement.

Your hollowing your cheeks, humming on his dick, swirling your tongue around the tip. You're giving this man the sloppiest fucking head ever and he's enjoying every minute.

Gently intertwining his fingers into your hair and practically fucking your throat with his cock. "Fuck just like that, who's my good girl? You're doing so good for me baby."

When he starts to twitch in the back of your throat you know he's close. That only encourages you to speed up, bobbing your head up and down, staring up at him through tears, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

That was the last straw, he felt something snap and he was gone, shooting warm streams of milky white cum down your throat. You're practically choking on his cock but that doesn't stop him from holding you in place.

"You can take it for me, I know you can, you take me so well princess." He groans out as you work him through his orgasm.

Finally he releases your hair and you slide him out of your throat with a pop. Quickly he leans down to pull you up and into a tight hug.

You return without hesitation, leaning your head on his chest, but he wasn't done. No this was just the beginning.

He gives you a moment to regain your composure before he's bending you over his desk, ass out and ready to be fucked.