#and far more than even what I've mentioned here

[nagis-wife]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

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tags: @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @hayatoseyepatch @sugurouge

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[burning-an-indifferent-hell]

"It's not complex at all, like all male violence." Not complex at all, simply male violence, and yet here you are jumping through hoops like Charlie Kelly drawing lines on a clue wall trying to justify a connection to irrelevant trans people. No, trans people have not eroded any rights away from women or girls in Pakistan contributing to this situation. You are seriously deluded if you honestly believe this.

"And I didn't say that. Your disingenuous reduction to absurdity of what I said—" There is no reduction fallacy and that's not even how the reduction to absurdity works in the first place. You clearly stated that trans people are relevant to this issue and that the issue is ongoing because trans people have stripped international women of protections. That's just a bogus fucking lie that can't be backed up with any evidence.

"Not radical feminists." Yes, radical feminists. You think I'm not familiar with your kind and the kinds of contradictory political alliances you form? I've been interacting with you types for over a decade. I was one of the most well-known GC activists on the web for years, thousands of you have reblogged my posts, circulated them on other sites, and you even still try to rehash the same busted old arguments that I popularized on here against me as if I've never heard the shit before. Countless radfems and GC types have distanced themselves from the movement because of how toxic, single-issued, and obsessively hateful towards trans people it is, not to mention how racist, homophobic, and generally antisocial your kind is in private group chats and servers.

"And if you read them, you'd know." I've read quite a lot of radical feminist literature and that's why I ascribe to materialist feminism and don't believe your kind has any business calling yourselves radfems in the first place. You lack the dialectical approach, nuance, and revolutionary impact of the historic radical feminism movement, you're just the reactionary anti-trans movement.

"And if you read them, you'd know. As it is, you but regurgitate the liberal party line." Ah yes, liberals, well known for being anti-"transcendental-idealism, sex essentialism, and idpol" and advocating a "Marxian/materialist and intersectional approach to sex-based oppression". /s Of course you wouldn't comprehend basic philosophical terms or political nuance. Dumbass.

"70% of trans-identified inmates are imprisoned for sexual assault, 40% with more than one instance." Nothing but lies regurgitated straight from that idiot JKR and her far-right puppeteers at The Telegraph, etc. Funnily enough I already knew you would bring up this exact claim and was waiting to link this article:

Are 50% of Trans Women in Prison Sex Offenders? The Transphobic Myth That Refuses to Die

No, the conservative right just exaggerates and lies, and radfems are easily manipulated into believing it because they lack the analytical capability to see through it. The results of your kind's statistics are always based on poorly sampled, misrepresented data intended to draw a conclusion that isn't actually the case. And unsurprisingly always sourced from your far-right collaborators.

"And your pantomime of trying to convince yourself radical feminists have, directly or indirectly, contributed to anti-abortion legistlation is as laughable as actual conservatives' fear mongering of us as desiring to have abortions as a hobby." Hardly. You idiots campaigning as a vanguard to spread anti-trans/anti-queer rhetoric is EXACTLY why many throughout the world have adopted these ignorant beliefs and become hostile towards LGBT people, equating "gender theory" to pedophilia, warming up to conservative conspiracy theories, and supporting the populist right.

"You could say the same for radical feminism, except rules for thee but not for me." First of all, comprehend that one is a political movement with core beliefs and tenets whereas the other is simply a people who can believe anything. Secondly, no you couldn't say the same when I've made it clear multiple times to you and your friend that I distinguish the contemporary "radfem" movement from traditional radical feminism as well as material feminism, which I support, but you ignore that because all you're capable of is deflection and attacking a straw man argument.

"We always have—" No, what you do is treat liberal-individualism as inseparable from the existence of trans people or the belief that their welfare matters.

"but TRAs do exactly that to us, in response. Vilify us and categorize our criticism of gender and our sex-based advocacy as personal persecution of themselves." You're vilified as persecutors because you sell out in support of hostile legislation and form alliances with groups who are openly sadistic and violent towards them.

"—reads precisely as the gaslighting it is." More of that projection. Deflect, lie, gaslight, project, attack straw man, repeat.

Trans activists:

'Woman is an identity and a social construct'

Planet Earth:

[lo1k-diamonds]

Down Bad 💜 PJM (Part 2)

Kissing you was not on the agenda, and it threw him off. How the fuck was he supposed to let go of you now?

PAIRING: Vampire!Jimin x human(f)reader

SUMMARY: You find the cure to your clumsiness in becoming Jimin’s dance partner. But twirling in his arms risks more than just your heart, especially after he bites you.

WORD COUNT: 12.8 k (Total: 31.5 k)

GENRE:  Soulmates AU, angst, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: typical vampire-related warnings (blood, biting, scents, feral moments), arguing, fighting, graphic depictions of cuts, bites, and wounds (including blood), angst, multiple smut scenes (unprotected sex), including praise kink, oral (f rec), penetrative sex, pleading, bit of a dom!Jimin, handjob, fingering, multiple orgasms

A.N. Here we have it, my Christmas gift this year. For some reason, I've been... unexpectedly insecure about my writing, so this story was somewhat... more difficult to perfect than usual. I'd like to thank @downbad4yoongi, @pars-ley, @colormepurplex2 and @hisunshiine for working through it with me and helping me reach this final version - by far the most fleshed-out and intriguing, even if it became huge. Also thank you to @itaeewon for the beautiful banner! This is my entry in the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash!

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

>Click here for Part 1<

You faced yourself in the mirror, smoothing the dress you had just put on down your stomach. The black fabric was silky, shining with your every move, and you really liked it. You had picked it for that very motive, wanting to look your best when you trained the choreography with Jimin. And it had worked; you still remembered the way he twirled you and then pulled you close to whisper into your ear how beautiful you looked.

You blinked your tears away with a deep breath and clenched your teeth. At the time, you believed he loved you in his way. He didn't have to say it; you thought those moments showed it, and it was enough.

Perhaps you were wrong. Two days later, he had yet to pick up your calls, and he had not shown up for your movie night the night before. You hadn’t heard from him since that night, and while it hurt, you could admit you also needed to think about things.

You wondered how you never noticed something could be different about him, but you still held that you couldn’t have guessed it. Vampires were things of fantasy literature. Even if you had never seen him under direct sunlight, even if he had never gone out with you during the day, or eaten any meals with you… You just weren’t counting or paying attention. It didn’t really matter. You assumed he had his normal life and ate when he wasn’t with you.

You also never felt in danger. In fact, you felt safe with him, and thinking how many times you had all but begged him to bite you and nip your skin, you wondered if it was related to his nature. Could it be that his nature made you want those things? You couldn’t remember ever being so keen on wanting those things with previous partners, but that should be normal — you weren’t the same person, and the relationships were different. Still, while a part of you thought that those desires were natural for you and for people in general, another part couldn’t help wondering if anything you felt was because of what he was.

In movies, vampires could glamour people or manipulate them. What if that had been the case?

You chuckled while you put on your high heels — as if you were worth charming. And you supposed that was one of the biggest issues you couldn’t wrap your head around: just why exactly had Jimin looked at you?

You had naturally fallen in love with him over the months: he was handsome and sexy, and a bit of a tease, not to mention a wonderful dancer that made you believe in yourself. He took you out stargazing and watched old black-and-white movies in shady theaters with you, and you felt privy to aspects of him that no one else knew. But you? Besides keeping him on his toes with your clumsiness, what did you give him? He could have anyone, and if he was immortal or something like that, then you couldn’t think of a reason he’d waste his breath on you.

Hence, why you didn’t understand him at all; he said you were special and that you weren’t just anyone he wanted to mess around with, but he had gotten involved with you. He’d come every night through that same door you were now stepping out of to come to you. He walked that same path back and forth from the gym, and nothing forced him to do that. He never even fed on you before and was clear that he didn’t want your blood, so what was it?

A part of you screamed that he loved you in his own way, and that it was why, but you didn’t want to believe it. How could he love you if he had lied to you for so long? If he didn’t trust you? If he ran away as soon as his secret was out instead of explaining things to you and staying by your side? If his problem was your safety, why not tell you how to protect yourself? You didn’t even know vampires existed, same as anyone else. Why did he want to protect you from everyone and everything? As far as you were concerned, you would have lived in blissful ignorance your whole life if he never bit you.

He likely planned on using you for whatever reason and then leaving you behind. Thinking about that made you angry because while you were stuck doing the quick walk in the snow to the gym to attend the dance class, wondering about his reasoning, the only conclusion you knew for certain was that you loved him.

Stupidly, unwisely, and angrily, you loved a man— a vampire who had lied to you and showed you so very little of himself that you could logically tell you were damn stupid to be so head over heels about him.

You tapped your shoes on the gym’s welcome mat with a deep breath, letting the warmth inside the place reach you a little bit. You were not at fault for your feelings, and being naive could be a fault, but you didn’t hurt anybody. He did you dirty; it was unfair to be angry at yourself for it.

Hoseok wasn’t at the desk, but you didn’t wait; you knew where your class was. As you made your way calmly, you decided you’d put yourself first. You started your journey in dancing not for Jimin, but for yourself. You were proud of how far you had come, and that was enough. You were there more for the opportunity to speak with him rather than dancing, and you knew you couldn’t pretend everything was alright. Your eyes fell on the door with your heart racing in your chest, and you made a decision as you drew nearer and nearer — you could walk away. If that was the best option, you would do it for you.

When you pushed the door open, you hesitated. There was a tall man you didn’t know near the sound system, and beside him was Jimin. They were talking quietly, and when Jimin’s eyes landed on you, you jolted to a walk again. You closed the door behind you with your stomach twisting so hard that with every step you measured if you’d have to abort and run away to puke. At least until suddenly you were right before the two men with an agonizing heart behind your ribs.

“Here she is, right on time,” Jimin started casually, and you just looked at him blankly. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear a thing because he was addressing the guy as though everything was… fine. You blinked with the tears pricking your eyes; everything was not fine. “This is Taehyung. He’s an incredible dancer and he wanted to enter the competition, but he didn’t have a partner. Seeing as I’ve been to many, I thought it would be good for you to go together. I’ve already instructed him on all our choreographies, but like I was telling him, you can change anything as you please. Make it your own.”

Taehyung said something you didn’t quite hear, though you bowed out of a reflex when he did. You were drawing a blank.

“What do you say?” Taehyung asked with a smile, hopeful, and you just blinked at him, and then at Jimin.

His jawline twitched as though he feared you’d cause a scene, and you could feel something inside your chest collapse. The tears stinging your eyes were suddenly embarrassing, and the anger flared inside you a thousandfold. None of that was fair: his attitude, changing partners, not talking to you, not treating you with fucking respect, not—

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Taehyung interrupted your thoughts with a thoughtful, soft voice. “I’m not a teacher like Jimin is, but I can promise you I’ll do my best to learn every step with you.”

“You’re perfectly experienced,” Jimin retorted, twisting your stomach yet again. Why wouldn’t he let you talk? “You could be a trainer here if you wanted.”

Taehyung smiled and answered, but you didn't hear it. That was it, the moment you made a decision.

You bowed to Taehyung again specifically, who rushed to bow back, then spun on your heels and walked away.

You heard the silence behind you but you were too busy containing your stomach’s content to care. You only stopped when the harsh winter cold hit your cheeks, and finally it seemed like you could breathe. Yet, instantly, your guts twisted, and you bent forward, staring at the snow as your mouth filled with saliva. All you could do was control your breath as your eyes filled with tears, waiting to see if you’d vomit or not.

“Are you okay?”

Hoseok’s voice didn’t startle you, and since it was him, you didn’t bother pretending you were fine. You shook your head. “It will pass.”

He nodded though you didn’t see it. “Maybe a bit of water?”

“No, I can’t… stomach anything right now.”

While you tried taking deep, cold breaths to soothe your guts and nerves, Hoseok looked around before focusing back on you. He didn’t have to ask to know why you were there in that state. He had told Jimin this was a terrible idea, that running away was the wrong decision, but there was nothing he could do.

Hoseok sighed, “Taehyung is a really good guy and a good dancer. He’s very happy to have the opportunity to dance again, but he won’t hold it against you if you decide you don’t want to do it.”

You swallowed convulsively for a moment before asking, “Again?”

“He had to stop for a while, but he missed it. This is perfect for him to restart.”

You straightened up and sniffled, “But we’d only train for one month.”

“He’ll pick up quickly. Besides, you’re doing it for the experience, right?”

Your lips twitched into a smile and you nodded before looking down. “Yeah.”

You took in a few more deep breaths, then refused Hoseok’s company all the way back to the room. Taehyung was exiting the dance studio by himself, looking a bit dejected, and you called out to him.

“Sorry about that, I’m feeling better,” you said and bowed deeply when you reached him. “I’d be willing to give it a go if you are?”

He was a bit flustered. “Oh, you mean— Sure, of course, yeah!”

You were happy that Jimin was nowhere to be seen when you both reentered the dance room. Even though that place was full of memories, you could at least be yourself with Taehyung if Jimin was not around.

Taehyung headed to the music box, saying something about Cha-cha-cha first when you spun on your heels to face him. “Are you human?”

He froze and looked at you, caught off guard.

“Wouldn’t want to start this without being truthful,” you added in a quieter tone, and Taehyung nodded.

“Well, you’re right. I mean, we live secretly, but I suppose it’s okay to tell you if you keep it a secret.” He winked, and you looked at him with glistening, red eyes.

“You wouldn’t tell me because you’re afraid I’d tell?”

He turned to face you fully. “No, I wouldn’t because you might be afraid of me.”

You had no filters; you finally had the chance to ask, “If you’re supposed to prey on me, shouldn’t I be?”

He chuckled, “I suppose you’re right, but it’s not like that. Besides, I’m perfectly well-fed. No danger whatsoever.”

“Good to know.”

“So you’re not scared of me?”

You looked up at him, momentarily lost in your thoughts. Taehyung wasn’t stupid, he could see your expression and guess something was up, but he was patient. You nodded. “No, you’re well-fed.”

Fortunately, he understood you were joking and smirked. “Now that we’ve shared secrets, how about we just warm up a little? To get a sense of each other?”

You agreed and looked around while you took off your coat; the memories of the room risked paralyzing you, but you shook your head and tried. Taehyung was taller, so your posture was different, and even the simplest of steps required an adjustment. Instead of comparing every detail to Jimin, or feeling as though you had just been pushed over onto Taehyung like an annoyance, you tried your best to actually work with him and find a middle ground.

It took a while, but you were able to dance the basics to one full song, so Taehyung left you for a moment to change the song. It gave you a moment to press your neck and grimace.

“Oh.”

You turned to him, and despite trying to hide the bite marks on your neck, you knew he saw them.

“I see, that’s why you asked…” he started, then shook his head. “But I need to ask… was it consensual?” Your posture became rigid, and he raised his hands placatingly. “You can tell me, it’s okay. If you wanted it to happen, then it’s good. But you should know it’s not allowed otherwise, so…”

“I… didn’t know it could happen but… I don’t regret that it did.”

He frowned ever so slightly, but before he opened his mouth, he glanced behind you. You knew the door was closed and there was no one behind you, you could see it in the mirror. 

“Did… Jimin do that?” he asked quietly, and you nodded. “I see. Maybe we should start next week—”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Maybe we can take it a bit slower, then.”

You agreed and noticed how much gentler Taehyung was for the remainder of your practice, making no sudden movements nor complicated steps. Still, you remained fairly rigid and were thankful when the training came to an end.

“Here.”

You thanked Taehyung for the electrolyte drink he brought you while you cleaned yourself with a towel and were thankful to sit down to drink it.

He sat down on the floor near you. “Have you… talked? To Jimin.”

“He doesn't want to talk to me.”

Taehyung hummed and glanced at the floor, and you took a few sips of the sugary drink.

“You know him well?”

He nodded. “We’re very close friends.”

“You're the first friend outside of the gym that I've met. And we still met at the gym.” You chuckled. “Even after almost a year.”

He was nodding, about to agree with something, but then his jaw dropped. “He resisted you that long? Woah, that's… impressive.”

“Maybe I made it easy.”

He tsked at your depreciative smile. “Not at all. I'm sure he told you how sweet you smell.”

“Hmm, no…” He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and you insisted, “Really, he didn't. I do?”

He nodded. “I'd say you're hard to resist.”

“You're doing just fine.”

He chuckled, “Well… let's say that it's a mix of knowing that it's not allowed and knowing there will be consequences.”

“Oh… like prison?”

He glanced at the same spot yet again, then hummed, “Something… like that.”

You were looking at your feet in thought. “Well, I don’t think it was a problem. He said he didn’t want my blood or to feed. I… never knew until he bit me. You know?” Taehyung nodded, and you looked back down. “I would have never known, I’m… I was just his little light.”

You were mumbling, but Taehyung heard you loud and clear and blushed. He eyed you once again, and suddenly, so much made sense, including how Jimin was acting.

“Well, anyway,” you stretched your legs on the wood floor, “I guess you're entering the competition with me now and… that's it.”

“It?”

“Yeah.” You nodded sadly. “He basically ghosted me, and nothing else connects us, and I… I mean, what am I?” You chuckled, “I guess I smell sweet, that's it.”

“I don't think that's it…”

He was frowning, but you didn’t see; you sighed, “You're sounding like Hoseok, and I'm starting to think you're both blind. You saw how he talks to me, or doesn’t.” You shrugged, though it was clear it annoyed you. “I'm insignificant. Maybe it's better this way.”

Taehyung took a deep breath to reel his thoughts in and asked, “Better? Why?”

“Because things would change, right? I'm just human, maybe I'd be a constant liability.”

His eyes hardened. “Or maybe he would be? With your friends and family?”

You chuckled, “You think he'd bite them?”

“No,” he answered, even though he realized you were trying to be funny. He couldn’t take it lightheartedly when it was clear you didn’t know so much about the situation. “He would change you by being with you. He didn't tell you about this?”

You were confused and shook your head. “He didn't tell me a thing. Change me how? Make me one of you?”

He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips. “No, there are other ways and… He should be the one to tell you this, though I suppose that’s his call. Just stop thinking so poorly of yourself, you’re wonderful.”

You snorted, “He left me without a word two days ago. I don’t feel wonderful.”

He heaved a deep breath and said little else because what could he say to you? He himself didn’t understand Jimin, and that was rare and odd.

He walked you out, smiling when you promised to drink way more fluids and rest well so you could dance harder next time. You were adorable, which made the sad smile on your face that much more heartbreaking.

Which was why, when you left, he instantly darted to the staff room where he knew he’d find a vampire stuck in time, listening carefully.

“She’s gone, but I suppose that if you drank from her two days ago, then you surely know that,” he said as soon as he entered the room, and surely enough, Jimin was there, sitting in a corner, frozen still with his eyes closed. Taehyung didn’t have to ask to know Jimin had been listening to your heart all along. It would bring him comfort, and it angered Taehyung even more. “So she’s the one? I mean, we all guessed it had to be someone, but you one-upped our wildest guesses. You found your muse, you bit her, and left her in the dark?”

Jimin opened his eyes slowly with a rigid expression but didn’t open his mouth.

“Why invite me to be her dance partner if you’re going to be brooding in a room nearby with such a threatening aura that you’re scaring everyone in the building?”

Jimin’s teeth ground for a second, and he looked away. He wished he could deny it, but there was no point.

“The least you could do is take care of her,” Taehyung poked, and Jimin finally opened his mouth.

“I am.”

“You didn't tell her anything,” Taehyung accused in disbelief. “She's weak, you didn't even tell her to drink and rest more or—”

Jimin suddenly got up and crossed the room towards the door. “This conversation is over.”

“It's not. Asking me to replace you fixes nothing. She's still hurt. She thinks she's meaningless to you, meanwhile, you've been calling her little light.”

Taehyung said everything he had to quickly enough that Jimin froze before he reached the door.

“She thinks she'd be a liability for you because you didn’t tell her that it's the opposite,” Taehyung continued, and Jimin turned to see the same disappointment in his eyes as was laced all over his tone. “You want to tether yourself to her, and that will change her. She'll have to sacrifice aspects of her life and—”

“She doesn't have to know that!”

“Why not?” Taehyung challenged, seeing easily how his friend was suffering. “You can't live without her, so what? You'll just watch her from afar?”

“Yes!”

“You'll be miserable.”

“So be it!”

“And her? She'll be miserable, too.”

Jimin was ready to fight to the last consequences, but he faltered. “She won’t. She will have a fulfilling life and—”

“Without you?”

He looked down. “Yes.”

“I don't think so. If you feel this way about her, how do you think she feels?”

“She— She's human, she—” he stumbled on his words, then swallowed. “She'll get over it.”

“She's yours.”

Jimin was overrun by goosebumps; he knew it in his blood, but he couldn’t get enough of the world telling him this.

“And if she's a muse, then she's not just human, is she? She'll be miserable because there will always be a missing piece. And because of you, she can't even name it.”

“Shut it!” Jimin took a step forward, ready to push him away. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Tell her,” Taehyung said simply, suppressing a sigh. “At least give her the option.”

Jimin knew his anger was misdirected, and wasn’t surprised when it faded quickly. Sorrow replaced it swiftly. “I can't. I know what she'll choose.”

Taehyung frowned. “And you can't live with it?”

“No, I can't.” Jimin saw Taehyung’s confusion and clarified, “She'll choose me, and I can't do that to her.”

“And if she doesn't?”

He chuckled humorlessly, “Then I'll struggle to find a reason to live.”

“So you prefer to deny her the choice?” Taehyung frowned, and Jimin couldn’t face him. “You're selfish, you know that?”

Present

Jimin was contemplating the use of living without you when his phone started ringing.

He lay in his living room in silence. The heavy curtains, perpetually drawn regardless of the moon in the sky, muffled the sounds of rain, though not the ringing, unfortunately. Still, like everything else, he hoped it would go away if he ignored it.

The phone stopped and restarted two seconds later, making him groan and rub at his face. 

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything. He knew exactly what time it was and who was likely to call, and he wasn’t there on purpose. He’d been hiding for a month, and he’d keep on hiding.

One month. He couldn’t believe it, but time was different for him. After all, he was a vampire; time was a funny concept. He could feel it ticking, but it was meaningless. The competition was just one more in an endless sequence of yearly events, barely noticeable. You were the only difference, and he had to shut you away. Thinking about you and time hurt him unbearably.

He’d outlive you. He’d see you live your human life, find love, have a family, and have a life you couldn’t have by his side, at least if everything went according to plan. Yet despite willingly sacrificing his heart and happiness for you to have a fulfilling life, he knew that in a few centuries, he’d still look back and reminisce about you like no time had passed at all. He’d torture himself with the moment he lost you, curse his existence without you, then collect the pieces of his crumbled heart with the memory of your smile, over and over again, until he was finally spent.

But right now, he was just a vampire pretending he wasn’t dying to be elsewhere. You were probably in Taehyung’s arms, twirling beautifully as you smiled and twinkled like the brightest sun. At least, you used to in Jimin’s arms, and he hoped you would in Taehyung’s as well.

But in the end, Jimin would never know because he couldn’t torture himself and see you dancing with Taehyung. He knew you had become close, Taehyung was open about it, and you were doing much better than the last time Jimin saw you. You were forgetting him because time was a fluid concept to you, and he couldn’t blame you. He’d rather see you flourish than be miserable. He’d rather you lived and showed everyone the light inside you during the competition and afterward as well.

His phone rang for the third time, and his eyes snapped open despite his seemingly comforting thoughts. He was ready to grab his phone and throw it against the wall, but he didn’t.

“Why are you calling me?” he asked, answering Taehyung’s call with a frown, and the shaky voice that answered immediately made him uneasy.

“Jimin! It’s bad, you need to come to the gym!”

He sat up. “Why?”

“We were dancing and— and she was fine, but then— she slipped and— She’s bleeding, it’s really bad!”

Was Taehyung running? He sounded out of breath.

“How bad?” Jimin’s voice was quiet and low as he got up.

“She ran downstairs and quite a few have gone berserk.”

Jimin growled as he gripped his dark hair. “What the fuck are you calling me for?! Get her out!”

“I can’t go much nearer either! She smells too sweet and— You have to come! We’re trying to keep them from going downstairs, but— Fuck, you have to come!”

He had already moved toward the door to grab his coat and put some shoes on.

“I’m on my way,” he growled before ending the call and rushing out.

He couldn’t think further than imagining you alone, hurting. The thought of anyone touching you made something stir inside him that, on another occasion, could have worried or scared him, but right now, it was more than justified. If anyone dared to touch you, he would tear them limb from limb. It was a visceral, feral, uncontrollable reaction — that was likely why everyone could sense him so clearly in the last month. He might not have been near you, but he stayed as close as he could without you detecting him, and everyone knew you were not to be harmed or even looked at wrong.

His nose wrinkled before he even entered the building. Perhaps because he had tasted you a month before, he could still pick up faint traces of your scent, even if he couldn’t hear your heartbeat anymore. Though he tried as he barged inside, the silence didn’t disturb him as much as the scene playing out in front of him. Multiple vampires were acting up in the lobby, fighting, hissing, trying to pass through a staff door that Taehyung was barricading with his body. Not so many vampires passed Jimin on their way out and looking around, it was at least clear that the other humans had already run away. Probably because someone had been clever enough to activate the fire alarm, which was still going off.

If Jimin were lucid, he’d worry about the few minutes left to handle the situation before the fire department arrived, but he was also not thinking clearly. The difference was that he wasn’t feral with the need to drink but with the need to protect.

He made his way to Taehyung, but his eyes caught the traces of blood still left on the floor, some smudged from either being stepped on or licked, and he couldn’t help a deep hiss. Suddenly, he felt twice his size and stronger than ever — he wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch you. Ever.

Some recoiled at his presence, and those who didn’t were promptly grabbed and thrown as though they were weightless. Taehyung was relieved to see him, tired and covered in scratches, bruises, and light red stains.

He smiled. “Finally.”

“Let me through.”

Taehyung kicked someone lurking just nearby, waiting for the chance to pounce, before getting off the door. “Hoseok is inside, fighting the ones who managed to get through.”

Jimin only growled, with his narrowing vision turning red. He didn’t hear anything else, he simply passed the threshold when Taehyung opened the door and made his way downstairs. The struggle noises reached his ears, and he would have ignored them if they didn’t match the trail of your blood. Arriving in front of a big metal door, he found Hoseok fighting four male vampires, each one more unhinged and injured than the next. 

Hoseok was relieved to see him, but the others were in no condition to recognize the danger they were in, and Jimin didn’t hesitate. One second he was still going down the stairs, the next he had collided harshly with the closest one, smashing his head against the wall. He instantly turned to the closest one and jumped on them, biting down to rip their throat open, and Hoseok had to kick the vampire’s leg to change the angle to try and save him.

“Just leave,” he heaved, panting, elbowing one that was trying to get him off the door while the last tried to bite his ankle.

Jimin wasn’t able to rip open the vampire’s throat, but his hiss after he rolled away on the floor was the last warning. It was somewhat effective. Despite being alive, the vampire’s throat was still lacerated, so he ran away swiftly. The one whose head banged the wall found himself lucid enough to follow after the first, and after that, the remaining two started cowering and stepping away slowly. They were confused in their wild state; why was Jimin coming onto them so strongly? They just wanted a small bite—

Jimin hissed again with his teeth fully extended and they decided it wasn’t worth it. They stumbled on each other to scurry off up the stairs, and Jimin focused on Hoseok, who raised his hands in the air. “It’s me. I’m not a threat.”

Jimin’s vision was still red. He closed his fists in an effort to hold back. “Out.”

Hoseok nodded and unglued his back from the metal door. “I’m leaving it to you.”

Jimin was still in position as his hyung left up the stairs and he would have stayed at the ready until Hoseok disappeared if it weren’t for your voice muffled and worried through the door.

“Hoseok? Are you okay?”

Jimin jumped on instinct against the door to get to you, but it was locked shut. He heard you stumble back and raised his fists from the metal so he wouldn’t use brute force on it. He called your name, “Hey, it’s— It’s me, it’s Jimin.” His voice trembled as he waited for a response, but you didn’t say anything else and his eyes teared up. “Please, can you open the door? Please, I— I can smell— I know you’re hurt, please. Please, let me in,” his voice wavered in desperation. That heavy metallic door was the last barrier between you, and he didn’t want to kick it open and scare you, but he needed to get to you. “I promise it’s safe, I’ll keep you safe. Please, let me in. Please, little light. Please…”

He was focusing on your heartbeat, and its rushed thrumming was making him anxious. Were you still scared? Were you scared of him? The faster your heart beated, the more you’d bleed, and—

The door vibrated along with a few noises, and he pulled back, waiting for you to pull it open. Once you did, you were a vision and put him on his knees. The scent of your blood hit him a thousandfold, drowning his senses in a familiar sweetness that brought tears to his eyes. For a split second, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to function, but then you rushed forward and threw yourself in his arms.

He caught you, and his overwhelmed senses were washed away with relief. It wasn’t just your blood, but your perfume, your warmth, your touch, and your heart singing happily to him, and he cried. He hid in your neck, breathing you in, and his teeth retracted. You were sobbing in his arms, and so was he.

“I’m so sorry, this should have never happened,” he mumbled, wishing to drown in you and stay like this forever. “I should have been here, I should have never left you by yourself, I— I was always there, but today I was a coward and I’m so sorry—”

You pulled away, keeping him at arm’s length by his shoulders, and he just looked at you. He was crying and had traces of something like strawberry sauce on his chin. His eyes were glistening sadly and your heart convulsed; you believed he was sorry this had happened, and it broke your heart into tears that you wiped away as you stepped back. You hadn’t talked in a month; this was not what you had hoped he was sorry for.

“Is Hoseok alright? And Taehyung?”

Jimin was still on his knees in the same place, looking at you with tears down his cheeks. “They’re a bit roughed up but I’m certain they’re alright.” You nodded and pressed the back of your left arm, and Jimin raised trembling fingers. “You’re still bleeding.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. You had ripped your red dress to make a tourniquet just above the wound, but it was still going. “I think I need stitches.”

“I can… I can take a look, maybe I can…” He swallowed as he looked at you, then shook his head. “I wouldn't hurt you, I promise.”

“I know.” You were casual about it, revealing your wound and raising your arm so he could see it.

His eyes flicked over the wound before falling back into your eyes; your heart didn’t change a beat. You were not scared.

His hands trembled as he raised them to gently angle your arm so he could see better, and he swallowed dryly. Despite being so close to the source and inebriated by the scent, he realized that what disturbed him was not your blood, but the way you were injured and in danger. When he pressed the wound closed, making you wince, he didn’t feel the slightest temptation to lick or consume the crimson nectar flowing onto his fingers. On the contrary, he was focused on your injury.

“I can make it stop bleeding, but I think it’s too deep,” he said, pressing the wound as he kept it above your head. “You need a hospital.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

His heart shook and for a moment he didn’t know what to do. You were right there, in front of him, looking at him, but you were… distant. He wanted to hug you, hold you, cry with how much he had missed you, but he couldn’t. Your eyes were cold, and he couldn’t move.

You moved to get up from your knees, and he accompanied you, never losing the connection between your wound and his hand. “If you think it’s safe, I can just—”

“Not yet,” he mumbled. He needed just one second more to look at you.

“Okay, but I can…” You tried moving away, but he just moved with you. “I can do that, you don’t have to do it.”

“I can’t let go.”

Your lips twitched. “Don’t tell me I’m finally hard to resist.”

“What?” He blinked, brought out of the haze by your bitter remark, and you shook your head.

“Never mind.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. “I can do it, you can go.”

You pressed your wound and walked back, further into the boiler room, and Jimin stood there, frozen, looking at you.

“I can wait, just tell Hoseok or Taehyung to come and get me when it’s safe.”

Jimin had to swallow a growl and take a deep breath to stay calm. You were pushing him away, clearly telling him you trusted them more, and it infuriated him. “You’re safer with me.”

You glanced at him with cold eyes. “I’m safe with them.”

His fists closed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You looked away. “Just because you don’t talk to me, it doesn’t mean others don’t. I trust them.”

“More than you trust me?”

His eyes were thundering, his jawline set with annoyance, and your long pause made him even angrier. He could read it in your eyes; he had bitten you. Of course, you didn’t trust him as much as them. But you couldn’t know how different—

“They’re my friends.”

He was taken aback, but his anger didn’t let him stop and think. “I’m more than a friend.”

You scoffed, “You’re nothing.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

And you snapped, “Where’s the surprise? You wanted nothing to do with me, what is there to be angry about?” You were incredulous, and he was stunned. “You don’t have to stay here, you can just call them, they’ll help me, so—” Your voice wavered with emerging tears and you looked away. “So just go.”

You turned your back on him, lightheaded and dizzy, so you didn’t see him trying to think things through.

“You think… I want nothing to do with you?”

His voice sounded muffled as a shudder ran through you, and suddenly, you were falling back with the room spinning around you. You tried reaching out for something to hold onto, but your grip wouldn’t have held anyway. Fortunately, you fell into a steady embrace right before being picked up bridal style.

“You’ve lost too much blood. I’m taking you to an ambulance, okay?”

He was talking to you, and you just nodded, feeling as though you were floating, the ceiling lights a blur as he carried you upstairs.

Jimin was hyper-aware of everything, including what awaited you two upstairs. He could hear the sirens from the fire department and the ambulance and knew most vampires had run off already.

As soon as he stepped outside with you, he exchanged glances with Hoseok, who promptly smiled at the firefighter’s chief. “It was likely just out of panic. It seems someone got hurt in the commotion.”

The chief’s piercing look was on the two of you as Jimin carried you to place you on a gurney, and paramedics were quickly on you to evaluate your condition.

Jimin didn’t leave your side, even as Taehyung eyed him from another ambulance where he was getting treated by a paramedic for the bruises on his face. Not that he needed it, but he played the part just like the others. Except you, of course, who were hanging onto your consciousness as you answered the paramedic.

“I hit… the mirror… my arm…”

The chief stayed silent as his team scrutinized the gym despite Hoseok’s attempts to downplay the event. At least until the paramedic nodded as she said, “You need stitches. We’re taking you in.”

“No fire,” the last firefighter said as they exited the building, and Hoseok smiled.

“See? It was probably some prank.”

“You have injured attendees.” The chief scratched his chin as you were taken into the ambulance, and Taehyung was told to join you.

“Tae,” you called, extending your hand to him when he sat by your side.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, taking your hand firmly.

Jimin ignored Hoseok's attempts to convince the chief to allow him to still host the competition and jumped into the ambulance.

The paramedic turned to him, but he was quicker. “I’m accompanying them.”

*****

Jimin refused to leave your side as you got stitches, even once Taehyung was cleared.

“I can stay,” he offered. “Hoseok likely went on with the competition, so you should go help him.”

Jimin’s eyes didn’t move from the doctor’s hands as he treated you. “No.” He didn’t bother explaining how the very notion of being anywhere else was ludicrous. “You should help him if you can.”

“Or I can stay.” Taehyung’s tone hardened as he touched Jimin’s shoulder, and it finally managed to draw his eyes away from you. Albeit a sharp, dark gaze that made Taehyung withdraw his hand fast. “Are you forgetting how you left things with her? She might not want you here.”

Jimin’s jawline twitched as he looked back at you. You were purposefully looking the other way so you wouldn’t see the needle, but it also hid you away from him. It unsettled him, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not forgetting, I…”

You’re nothing.

His heart churned as he looked down. “I need to talk to her. You were right, I… I should have at least explained to her why I had to stay away. She thinks I want nothing to do with her and—” He rubbed his eyes away from you. “It fucking hurts that she doesn’t know how I— I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he confessed, looking at Taehyung with glossy eyes.

He patted his shoulder. “You’re figuring it out. I’m happy to hear that you want to talk to her at least.”

”I don’t want to take my eyes off her ever again.”

The vulnerable and pained shine in Jimin’s eyes gave away the longing in his heart, and Taehyung patted his shoulder again. “It’s her call.”

Jimin nodded as the doctor finished wrapping your arm with a bandage. “Maybe… Stay,” he asked, looking at Taehyung, who nodded. 

The doctor gave you instructions and left to grab a prescription, and Jimin and Taehyung neared you.

“How are you feeling?”

Taehyung’s voice was gentle, and you finally turned your head to that side. “It hurts,” you groaned, moving your arm slowly before pressing it to your side again. Your eyes didn’t miss Jimin, but you still focused on Taehyung. “They’ll give me a sling and everything.”

“At least you're on vacation.” Taehyung smiled, trying to cheer you up, and Jimin's sad eyes drank your expression as much as he could. 

You huffed. “Yeah, I’ll have to submit a doctor's note to convert it into medical leave, and my boss will be pissed cause that means I’ll have extra days next year.”

You were speaking so casually before the doctor returned to give you all the documents and medicine you needed, and Jimin teared up. It was his own fault, but he missed you terribly. How had he ever stayed away? How had he even lived?

The answer was simple — he hadn’t.

And now, looking at you, discharged with your arm in a sling because you got injured because he wasn’t there, he couldn’t help longing for a place in your life. For the warmth of your eyes, the gentleness of your touch. He’d give anything.

You stopped at the hospital’s exit and pointed at the taxis on standby. “I’ll take a cab home. Guess no competition for me.” You chuckled. “Just couldn’t fix the clumsy in me.”

“That’s not—” Jimin’s impulse to comfort you and say something made you turn to him, and the stone coldness in your eyes froze him. Taehyung’s eyes were also on him, perhaps expectantly, and Jimin cleared his voice. “I’ll take you home.”

“I can go by myself.”

“You can, but we’re not letting you.” Taehyung’s tone was soothing, and you sighed.

“I’ve given you enough trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he retorted with a small smile. “Besides, he’s dying to take you.”

Your expression hardened as you glanced at Jimin, who couldn’t stop berating himself for letting things develop like this.

“He won’t hurt you.” Whatever made Taehyung say those words made Jimin frown at him while your shoulders relaxed.

“I know.” Your eyes showed the faintest spark of emotion towards Jimin, and he wished he could pick you up in his arms like he used to. “Come along, then. I’m tired.”

You woke up with a groan as you got off your left side. The pressure on your wound hurt now that the medication had worn off, but at least it didn’t hurt as bad as the day before. You sighed, cursing your luck, and opened your eyes.

It was dark.

You frowned, glancing at the floor to check that, indeed, there was daylight on the other side of the curtains.

“I drew them closed.”

Jimin’s quiet voice almost made your heart jump out of your chest; you hadn’t noticed him.

“I can open them if you’d like.”

You let your head fall back into the pillow with your eyes still on him. “Wouldn’t you have to leave, then?”

“Just into another room. You need your light, I get it.”

You sighed. “I don’t need light. I’m not a plant, I don’t do photosynthesis.”

“But you’d feel better.”

You huffed and raised your head to glare at him. “How would you know what makes me feel better?”

Your tone had enough punch that he looked down before getting up. “I can only guess. I’ve bought Gatorade and—”

“I like looking at the stars,” you interrupted firmly, looking into his eyes. “If I had to pick what makes me feel better, I’d choose driving to the outskirts to gaze at the stars on the hood of your car with a blanket like we—”

Your voice wavered, and you closed your eyes, letting your head fall. Why were you telling him this? It didn’t matter. 

He stepped closer to you. “If I could, I’d take you right now. I’d make it nightfall just so we could go and look at the dark sky all night.”

“Stop,” you asked, closing your eyes before they’d tear up. “Why are you still here?”

“To make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m okay. You can go now.”

His lips twitched before he turned to leave the room, and you sucked in a deep breath. Of course, he’d just leave; he didn’t actually care. Why was he pretending to—

He stalked back inside and placed a couple of pills and an orange plastic bottle with a big white G on your nightstand.

You bit your lip. “Well, there you go. I’ll be fine now.”

“I know you will,” he said quietly, sitting over the covers beside your legs. “I was… hoping to talk to you.”

You observed his features for a silent moment, confirming his earnestness. Then, you grabbed the pills and the bottle. “You’re ready to talk?”

He licked his lips. “I… Yes. And I’m sorry it took me so long.” His eyes stayed on you as you took the pills and subsequent sips of the drink. He picked the orange flavor, your favorite. “This conversation will happen a month too late and… I was a coward,” he forced out, clearing his voice. “None of this should have happened. I’ve done everything wrong from start to finish, but I just… I wanted to protect you, but I’m selfish and…”

“You should start at the beginning,” you suggested, and he couldn’t tell what you were feeling by your tone or expression. Did you despise him? Did you want him to get it over with? Did you miss him? Had you already forgotten him?

“You’re right, I… I don’t know how much Taehyung already told you.”

“That’s beside the point.”

He pressed his lips and looked down. “You’re right again. It’s just… hard to start.”

You looked down at the bottle half-empty in your hand. “I’m human and you’re a vampire. Why did you even look at me? Why make that mistake?”

He straightened back. “What?”

“That’s what you said. That we were a mistake.” 

Your tone was dry, but you couldn’t look at him for long, and he leaned forward. “Not you, not— That’s not what I— You are not a mistake, you’re perfect.”

You scoffed and kept your eyes down. “That sounds so much like bullshit.”

“It’s not!”

“It is,” you insisted with a firm look. “Just say it like it is.”

“You could never be a mistake,” he deadpanned, irritation setting his jaw. “My mistake was to think I could keep myself away from you. Another was to not tell you about what I am. Then another was to run away from you because I was so scared of what you’d think, of what you’d decide, and— I just made mistakes left and right, but you were never one of them.”

Your eyes glistened, and your lips trembled, and he wished he could brush your cheek and hold you in his arms.

You sniffled. “So can you tell me now? About what you are?”

He eyed your hand but refrained from taking it. “Yeah. I’m a vampire, originally from Busan. I’m seventy-five years old—”

“Same as Taehyung, then.”

He nodded with a bitter smile. “Yeah, he told you?” You nodded, and he sighed. “Then you probably already know most of this. We need blood to live, we are allergic to the sun, and we live in secret.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me? You didn’t want to scare me?”

“No, I… I never thought you would be scared. There is more to this and…” He heaved a deep breath. “I thought I was keeping you safe.”

You chuckled. “Clearly, trouble seems to follow me.”

He reached for your hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s actually mine.” You were confused but didn’t let go of his hand, and he gained the courage to tell you, “I knew you were special from the moment I met you. You’re not just any human, you’re my human.”

“What?”

“It’s a myth, or I thought it was, and so I never thought I’d find you. But the story goes that there’s one single human in the world for each vampire, a mate.”

“But… we’re food.”

He chuckled, “You’re not food, you’re special. You’re a special type of human. One that, if bonded to a vampire, can sacrifice aspects of human nature to stay by their side.”

“What do you mean?”

He pursed his lips, but explained, “You can sacrifice aging and bearing children and walking under the sun for a lifetime by my side.”

“What the fuck?”

You were shocked, and he grimaced. “I know. It goes against your human nature but—”

“Wait, you said your side? Because I’m your human?”

He nodded. “You’re the one for me. My muse,” he whispered with eyes filled with wonder.

“So… what do you have to sacrifice?”

He laughed softly, “Nothing in comparison. You become the center of my universe, and only you make sense.”

“What does that mean?”

“That you’d be my only partner. To live and to… feed.”

Your eyebrows jumped. “You said you didn’t want to feed on me.”

“And I don’t, if it makes sense. I don’t want to bleed you dry, and I wouldn’t take more than necessary, but it’s still possible to lose control. There are stories of vampires who killed their muses in fits of jealousy or when deceived by enemies, and— It’s a lot. So when I met you, I knew who you were and… I couldn’t resist the desire to stay by your side. I thought I could stay away but of course I couldn’t,” he scorned himself, shaking his head. “Every step of the way, I convinced myself I could be with you without making this a big deal. Between pulling you into my world to be coveted and harmed, having to sacrifice building a family and eventually having to watch yours die, or staying by your side for as long as you wanted me while letting you enjoy your human life… I thought that was the best choice.”

“You do realize that eventually I’d start aging and notice you don’t? Eventually, I’d notice things were off. Like never meeting any family of yours or… What would happen when I wanted more?”

“I… didn’t think it through but… more?”

His eyes were curious, and you shrugged. “I don’t know. Marriage, moving in together, kids—”

“You want kids?”

“Not in particular, but the topic would have come up.”

He looked down at your joined hands, immersed in his thoughts, and you squeezed his hand.

“Don’t go making decisions by yourself,” you warned with a piercing look. “We’re talking, and if I’m your human and you’re my vampire, then you’ll tell me everything so we can figure it out together.”

His heart was already hurting with the thought of letting you go, but your bossy tone made him smile and nod.

“So what happened when you bit me?”

He groaned, “I think the inevitable just happened. I kept the urge at bay, but when you said you loved me, I… couldn’t keep it in.”

“What? Wanting to bite me?”

“Yes, but… it’s a special type of bite. The one that would bond us forever. The one that would fill you with my venom, purging those human traits so you could live by my side and be mine. I stopped on time, fortunately,” his voice wavered as he hid his eyes. “I panicked when I realized what I was doing, and everything just came crashing down. You didn’t know about any of this, so I felt like I was violating you. I promised you’d be safe with me, but at that moment, I became a monster, taking away your choices, risking killing you on an impulse.”

“So you ran away from me?”

His eyes snapped up. “I told you, I made mistakes left and right. I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid of your decision.”

You hummed. “How so?”

“If you decide you want to do it, I’ll be responsible for taking away beautiful things from your life. If you decide you don’t want to do it, I’ll—” He couldn’t say it. He licked his lips. “I’d have to find a way to live.”

You could see the anxiety in his eyes, yet you looked down at your hand in his. “That’s not enough. You panicked and realized your mistake; your next step should have been to tell me everything.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “I thought that the least you knew, the safer you’d be, but… It’s the opposite. I should have told you more. I should have understood that when I bit you, although I didn’t finish the process, I started it. You smell sweeter, and that fact alone puts you in more danger than any other human. This is all my fault, including staying home tonight so I wouldn’t see you dancing with Taehyung when it should have been me who—”

The words got choked in his throat, and you nodded. “It should have been, yes. But you still haven’t told me how you feel about all this.”

“What?” He was caught offhand, and you insisted.

“So what if I’m your human? Muse.” You were quiet, almost a mumble. “That doesn’t mean you…” You raised your eyes, and he was still staring at you, dumbfounded and waiting. “That doesn’t mean you want any of this. It’s not because you found me that—”

“I want you,” he cut in fervently, leaning forward and caging you with his free hand on the other side of your legs. “If I ever thought I wouldn’t love you with my whole soul, it was when I was fooling myself. You’re not just the human for me; you’re the one my heart longs for and bleeds for. My blood sings your name, though I know you can’t hear any of it, but I…”

You listened attentively and whispered, “It’s true, I can’t, so you have to say it.”

“I love you. I love you so much,” his voice wavered as he cupped your cheek. “You’re my heart, the only ray of light in the darkness, my hope, my—”

You leaned forward to press your lips to his, and he didn’t hesitate, moving closer to you so you’d be comfortable as he kissed you greedily. Your mouths moved in tandem, like old lovers who remembered each other’s hidden languages, and you sighed. You squeezed him to you, needing to feel him close because despite all the crazy, at least now you were certain of two things: you loved him, and he loved you.

When you pulled away, he let you go, pecking your cheek sweetly before moving back. He sighed deeply, though he didn’t say anything, and you pressed your lips.

“You’re an idiot, Jimin-ssi,” you said as you fell back to your pillow, and the fear in his eyes didn’t please you. “My idiot, but still.” He grabbed your hand again and squeezed. “I need time to get my head around things, and you’re going to stay with me and explain everything to me.”

He kissed your hand reverently. “Of course.”

“By my side, where I can see you.”

“I never wanted to leave you. I’ll do whatever you think is best, I just… I don’t want to steal away your chance at happiness.”

You hummed. “Happiness… its definition can change with time. That’s why I want time.”

He gripped your hand as if he was gripping hope. “It’s the type of decision you should make with time.”

“But…” You pouted. “If not me… That means you’re feeding on someone else.”

He shrugged. “Bags and it’s perfectly anonymous. I can wait.”

“You’d wait for me?”

“My whole life,” he whispered, touching your forehead with his. 

1 year later

You stood in front of the mirror in a dazzling red dress that sparkled every time you swayed your hips. It brought a soft smile to your face as you wondered how it would look in the videos surely recorded during your performance with Jimin. You couldn’t wait to see them, not just because you enjoyed yourself, but because it was one of the best moments of your life. You flew and spun under his guidance, eyes always connected as though nobody else was in the room, and it was good. It was the culmination of a year of relearning each other from a place of truth, this time, and of falling deeper than ever before.

You pulled the dress up over your head, and the reflection of the scar on the back of your left arm showed momentarily. You angled your arm to see it more clearly and recalled that night exactly one year prior. The stitch marks were faint but there because you never allowed Jimin to lick them away. You liked that mark on you, not because you enjoyed the way you hurt or feared, but because it reminded you of what could happen if you didn’t brace your fears. You think it did the same for Jimin.

The same Jimin who had initially run from you out of fear and had since stayed by your side every step of the way. You knew you needed time not just to make a decision, but to trust him again, and he had shown to you that he understood that and would stay by you regardless.

He did so in two major ways: he stepped into your life and welcomed you into his.

Despite living in secret, he asked you to invite Jiyu over to your place so he could explain the truth to her directly. You didn’t want him to risk his life or others, but he explained that she was important to you, so he’d trust her.

You couldn’t forget Jiyu’s shock at the revelation or her subsequent questions. “So, you feed on her?!”

Jimin explained what a muse was and added, “But I haven’t, and I won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

She had eyed you wearily, and you nodded. “I haven’t made a decision yet.”

She understood why you were taking your time, and it was true that Jimin hadn’t touched your blood since that fateful night. You had been together since, and you realized quickly that you could trust him with this — he promised he’d never bite you without your clear permission, and he had come through every time.

You were curious about it, of course. Especially since he explained that drinking while elated with pleasure would make him feel euphoric, but it would also feel amazing to you.

“But I don’t know if I can trust myself to stop on time if we were to try, so…”

So you respected his boundaries, too.

He had also met your whole family for the holidays, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think your sister had a thing for him.

“He’s just so… stunning,” she sighed with her one-year-old on her lap. “Just where did you find him?”

“Dance classes.” He had smiled, sitting next to you and making your sister turn tomato-red.

It was a nice evening, and although you agreed not to tell them about his unique nature, you appreciated that they’d know you were safe even when you decided to become absent.

Because you would.

You quickly realized what your decision would be, but you stayed true to your promise to Jiyu and Jimin to take your time. Of course, you enjoyed feeling the sun on your skin or the prospect of growing old together with Jiyu and your sister, but… letting go of Jimin in death made you anxious.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him, and if meeting his family and stepping into his world could have made you change your mind, in all honesty… it didn’t.

“Who are you?”

You had flinched at the sudden pair of big, doe, dark brown eyes staring at you while you waited for Jimin at the entryway of this big modern mansion with a grand view over the sea.

You stammered your name before you heard hurried steps. “Jungkook, let her breathe!”

He turned to Jimin and pointed at you. “This is her, right?! Finally!” He turned to you, even more curious. “She does smell sweet but… That’s it?” He tilted his head, and Jimin grabbed your hand to pull you back. “I thought there would be more to a muse?”

“Perhaps the difference is that Jimin is coming off as super hostile?”

People emerged from a doorway near the stairs to the first floor, and you were stunned speechless. Taehyung was gorgeous, but the man walking next to him who spoke first was nothing to scoff at. Why were they all so beautiful?

“He’s protective, not hostile,” Taehyung explained, giving you a soft smile. “Besides, he’s not as bad as before.”

“Won’t you stop that,” Jimin mumbled before turning to you and brushing your hair behind your shoulder, making sure with a quick look into your eyes that you were okay.

“Hoseok told us you were scaring his clientele away…”

“He’s exaggerating.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes as the others teased him, and while you learned the fourth vampire was called Jin and that they all had heard wonderful things about you, you couldn’t help but stare at them and look for flaws, but there were none.

“I have a question,” you dared to cut in, and all looked at you, one more stunning than the next. “Are you all beautiful because you’re vampires, or were you already before?”

“They were already before.” A casual voice made you turn to the staircase, where two male vampires were making their way down to join you. The tallest was smiling with cute dimples, while the one next to him, albeit a bit shorter, was as flawless as the others. “Though that’s not why I turned them.”

You blinked, realization dawning on you before he continued.

“I’m Namjoon, it’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Taking Namjoon’s hand had only been another nail in the proverbial coffin. You felt comfortable with those who would become your family and welcomed as an equal, even though you were quite different. The certainty that you could keep your individuality and love Jimin in your own way helped you envision a future that made you even surer of your decision.

So now, with the competition done and a year of reflection behind you, you decided not to put any other clothes back on.

“Little light?”

You saw Jimin appear through the mirror, smiling at you as he shrugged his way out of the blazer.

“I was thinking that I could run a bath if you feel like it.”

He opened his closet to put away his coat while you mused about it. “That’s a good idea. Maybe after.”

He was already unbuckling his belt, and you started opening his button-up shirt. “After? After what?”

His smile was gentle if a bit mischievous, and you bit your lip, knowing how you were about to stun him.

“After you bite me.”

He had pulled his belt off, and it fell to the ground. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said quietly, not stopping until you could push the white shirt over his shoulders.

“But— Are you sure?” His tone was anxious despite his hands on your waist pulling you closer. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself—”

“I don’t want you to.”

The air was knocked out of him. “Wh— You mean— Are you sure?”

You smiled. “I’m sure. I’ve taken my time and concluded every day that I love you and want to be with you.”

You caressed his shoulders gently, and he groaned, kissing your forehead before he revealed, “But we are together.”

“But there’s something missing, isn’t there?” You looked into his eyes and he didn’t deny it. “Like, I could be a part of you, or I should be, but I’m not.”

He swallowed. “You feel that?” You hummed, and he hid in your neck. “Thank fuck. I didn’t know if it was just me, so I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Jimin—”

“I’m happy as long as you’re by my side,” he continued, pulling away to look at you with so much sweetness. “Even though I want to bond and belong to you, body and soul, I know I already do. I don’t want that to be the reason—”

“It’s not. It’s my decision, and I thought about it long enough. I want it. I need it,” your voice wavered, and he cupped your cheeks.

“It should be special.”

“It is special.”

“My bedroom isn’t special.”

“I don’t care where, just take me.” You sounded desperate now, agonizing from his hands keeping you from searching for his kiss. “Please, make me a part of you. I want to be with you forever.”

He groaned and kissed you before peeling himself away to leave the room. You stood there, confused and cold, until he returned with a bag of blood.

He looked around for something while you blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case,” he mumbled, finally finding some type of medical supply.

“In case what?”

“You change your mind or… it’s not safe,” he clarified, putting both things — a needle, you noticed — away solemnly before turning to you. Seeing your confusion, he reminded you, “I need you to bleed a lot and take in my venom. I don’t know how you’ll react.”

“The only way I can,” you said, moving closer to touch his chest. “I’ll take it and become even more yours than I already am.”

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you to crash to his lips, moaning into your kiss with such yearning your insides melted. You never forgot the taste of his lips or the love palpitating in your chest, but it didn’t hurt to be reminded. To have his gentle fingers trailing up your curves, brushing your hair over your shoulders before turning back down to get you rid of your bra.

He leaned over your chest, suckling a nipple into his mouth before kneeling. His hands followed and pulled your underwear down, opening the way for him to kiss down your stomach.

He hid his face in your mound, deeply breathing you in. “I should make this last. I should— I should take my time—”

“The quicker you bite me, the faster I’ll become yours.”

He groaned and nipped your skin. “Don’t tease me, little light. This is an important moment we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.”

“Then it’s only right I tease you, don’t you think?”

He growled into your core before jumping back on his feet, grabbing you with your legs around his waist.

He put you on the bed and hovered above you as you hastily opened his slacks. “Lay back,” he asked, then grabbed your hands before you could have your way. “I need you to feel good first.”

“I’ll feel good as soon as you’re inside me—”

He pressed his lips to yours, groaning with such want you fluttered around nothing. 

“Making my life difficult, are you?”

“Interesting, my love. Interesting,” you whispered to his lips, nuzzling him to distract him, though you knew it wouldn't work.

He could feel your legs around him while your hands slowly but surely reached inside his slacks. As soon as one fingertip touched him, he succumbed to his desire to have your touch, and his hard cock fell heavy on your palm.

You squeezed him hard, loving the way he groaned before taking your mouth into a heated kiss. You could barely match his savagery, with his tongue so deep and overwhelming, you were breathless. Still, that didn’t mean you gave up on your prize. You could jerk him off just as intensely, making him buck his hips to slide in your hands.

You fastened your hands, wanting to torture him sweetly, and he pulled away from you with a curse. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You grinned, though you didn’t relent your pumping. “Gosh, I hope not.”

He smirked before he traced the side of your hip until his fingers skimmed over your wet folds. “Me too,” he sighed, observing how you gasped and lost focus. “I still have so much to do… and so little time.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing two fingers inside you swiftly to steal away a moan.

“There you are,” he teased, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. “Can’t lose sight of what’s important, right?”

He nipped your lip, and you cursed. “Who’s teasing who now?”

He chuckled darkly, licking your lip as you tried not to writhe under him. Your legs spasmed, trying to give him more space to push his digits inside you while your hands barely held onto his hard shaft.

You were trying your best, but he just knew you too well. The squelching sounds were but the obvious proof that he knew your body and all the ways to make you fall apart, be it the long routes or the shortcuts.

You moaned his name, asking for a kiss, and he couldn’t resist you. As you let his mouth take away your capability to think, you gripped his dick harder and slowed your rhythm. It was inevitable that he’d follow after you, mimicking your fists around him to fingerfuck you with the same cadence. It allowed you to focus on his pleasure, on his breathing, on the way his lips swerved to nip your cheek as he got close, until his cock throbbed, and his hand darted to freeze yours.

The sounds of his moans were a pure delight as you licked your lips, enjoying every second. You had explored with him, finding ways to edge him through the nights you spent together, and one treasure you had found was how to make him cum without ejaculating. It kept him hard and hungry, and you had found it made him the most feral.

Suddenly, he pulled your hands above your head and opened his eyes to meet yours. “Don’t move.”

You shuddered, and he was already gone, burying his face in your cunt while his hands squeezed your tits harshly.

You humped his face, writhing in place, not daring to move your hands. Instead, you gripped the pillows and moaned loudly as he sucked your clit. It was enough to make you forget yourself, but quickly, it became clear that he was not looking to get you off. At least, not so soon.

He stopped to lick your slick off your folds, letting one hand trace down your soft stomach. “Do you want this?”

“Jimin—” Your voice broke when he pinched your nipple harshly. “Yes!”

His other hand found his way inside you as he glued his mouth to your clit again. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!”

His fingers padding the soft patch of your wall were maddening, and his handling of the situation wasn’t better. He kept asking you, over and over, what did you want, refraining his ministrations for a few seconds just to give you enough time before fucking your wet cunt yet again, and you couldn’t take it. You could only cry out his name and beg for him.

“Jimin—please—”

“What do you want me to do?”

You couldn’t form sentences, not when your orgasm was a millimeter away and so well out of your reach. “Fuck— Kiss— Love— Bite—”

He growled, “Again.”

You repeated yourself, feeling so hot you were starting to feel cold.

“Say it, little light,” he groaned before giving your clit a hard suck.

“Bite me!”

Something pierced the skin of your inner thigh, and your orgasm exploded into a million colors. You threw your head back, moaning deeply with every spasm around his fingers. You could feel him suckling and soon hear his groans against your hot skin, but you couldn’t think further than that because his fingers inside you never stopped.

“Good, you’re so good,” he cooed before moving away from your leg. The sight of him with your blood dripping down his chin was one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Not letting you come down,” he promised, gluing his lips to your stomach. “Gonna show you how good it feels to be mine.”

You didn’t doubt it but still had it shown to you when his fingers plunged deeper into your sweetness. His fingers hooked harder, his thumb pressing down your swollen clit, and you rolled your hips, moaning and begging.

His fingers rolled a nipple. “Are you ready, little light?”

You were feeling more and more light-headed by the minute but still wanted to chase another high. “Yes!”

“What do you need?” he asked, licking around your navel.

“Bite—”

He sank his teeth above your pelvis bone, right down the plump flesh of your belly, and sucked hard. You moaned loudly, and a second wave of heat spread through you from that same spot. Your weakness was rivaled by the sheer delight spreading through your veins, and as one thumb rolled your clit and the other over your nipple, you humped his hand until you found release.

Your pleasure was unleashed, sucking in his fingers as your eyes rolled back inside your head. You could feel your body shaking as though you were cold, but you were burning alive. You were soaring so high, you were in the clouds, but something was missing.

“Jimin,” you cried, finally daring to search for him with your hands, despite his command.

He didn’t mind; he guided your hands to his crimson lips and kissed them. You were delirious with his venom and begging for him. There was nothing else he could have ever wished for — he was on his way to an eternity with you.

“I’m here,” he promised, kissing your skin as he made his way to your mouth.

“I need you.” You shivered, pulling him closer, and he laid over you like a blanket.

“And I’ll always be here,” he pledged, looking at your pallor, blown pupils, and expanded jugular and carotid. Your heart was racing, compensating for the blood loss, spreading his venom and your bliss faster. “Always, my little light.”

You reached for him, crushing him harder over you as you trembled, then bit his shoulder when he entered you. You could feel him so much better, so much warmer and softer than before. Your nails pierced his skin, and he groaned, never stopping his love lullaby whispered into your ear, and you felt it. The desperation in both your moans as he fucked you on instinct, pressing his nose to the shallow of your neck as though he was waiting for the right moment.

Meanwhile, something was caving inside you. Something deep was crumbling to dust, waiting for something to come and fill in the gaps. You didn’t know what it could be, but you were left wanting, waning, needing to match his ardor with yours, but you weren’t certain your body obeyed you anymore.

“Jimin,” you whispered, realizing your vision had darkened. “I love you.”

You moaned with the familiar bee-sting in your neck and felt a third wave of bliss rattle you. You spasmed, pressed down to the mattress by his weight, and slipped away as you heard him chanting to your neck.

“I love you I love you I love you.”

*****

You woke up with a deep breath and the distinct sensation of a second heartbeat so very close to yours. The pungent smell of blood was all around you, and so was a warm, soothing figure holding you so closely that you could barely breathe.

“Jimin—” you huffed, tapping his shoulder, and he pulled away to look at you.

Tears stained his cheeks but halted as soon as his eyes locked with yours. For a moment, you held your breath. You could feel his heart thrumming and hear his blood singing a heavenly tune, and when his lips trembled, you already knew what he was going to say.

“My little light.”

[cerastes]

I had a Krolik moment the last time I talked about GFL2's bad script so far (in the main story specifically) so I think it's only fair I talk about the positive aspects of the game, which indeed exist. I like focusing on the positive of anything I peruse, so I think it's only right I talk about those aspects as well.

The menus are very well designed, the UI elements in general are intuitive and tapping/clicking on something will list all the ways in which it can be acquired and where, which you'd think should be standard issue by now but Here We Are, the game's aesthetic is clean and to the point, not minimalist, just not overly dressed in bells, just the right amount of flair and style. The in-game camera is fully adjustable which is important not just in XCOM style games but any game where positioning is of paramount importance. The likelihood of making a mistake in the game positioning is low, and it's only ever happened to me when I'm just quickly tapping, which is on me.

Each character's kit is cohesive and sensible. This is hugely important to me because XCOM didn't have much in the way of character variety as an intentional design choice, and other XCOMlikes, such a Othercide, tend to keep this philosophy of simplicity, of class identity over unit identity. GFL2 does the opposite, where unit identity trumps over class identity -- and does it right -- by giving each unit a different way of going about what they do and additional tools they can bring to battle in order to do sabotage the enemy beyond their role or support the team:

For example, Qiongjiu and Tololo (CHILE MENTIONED) are both Assault Rifle wielding Sentinels, AKA damage dealers. They also play completely different. Qiongjiu's entire thing is using Support Attacks. Her kit is based entirely on attacking alongside other units, with innate buffs and skills that make her attacks outside of her own turn stronger than those in her turn. This makes her incredibly devastating but also position-sensitive. Tololo, on the other hand, relies on good ol' hitting things hard as hell and building up Points (keep Points in the back pocket for now) through different conditions each of her skills have to award said Points until she can build 6, which will give her another turn altogether after she's done with her turn. Unlike Qiongjiu, who wants to grab a good vantage point and blast enemies nonstop off her allies' attacks, Tololo wants to move around and flank enemies and deal heavy damage off multiple attacks per turn when she has a double turn, and otherwise build towards this burst turn.

Inevitably, there's better units than others, and I really don't care because this is a single player game and if you care about doing well in gacha asymmetrical PvP, skill issue, you're doing that to yourself. Even when there's a clear discrepancy in raw power between units -- Vepley is largely considered very weak and completely outgunned by Lotta, the latter of which is lower rarity than the former -- there's no truly unviable unit. You can run a team of "weaker" units and still crush content, or you can run Suomi in any team and tangibly decrease the difficulty of the game drastically, and it's fine if you do that, it's a single player game, Have It Your Way.

One of the single best parts of GFL2 is that team composition trumps over individual strong units. Team synergy is MUCH more important than having one broken unit. A synergistic team of mid Dolls will perform better than one or two power carries. As it should be in an XCOM game.

I've mentioned this before but the game's presentation is gorgeous. From model quality to animation and voice acting, they really knocked it out of the park with this one. I can't really think of a better looking game except Kuro games when they go fucking crazy with it -- like PGR and WuWa -- but here you don't have to put up with Everything Else Kuro Does which tends to be pretty mediocre or bad, besides gameplay, their forte besides looking great. As much as Krolik and Nemesis have me up to my tits with frustration, Groza, Colphne and Mayling are nice, not exceptional, just nice, and there's definitely events to consider, so the final word on the script does have to wait.

But yeah there's definitely good aspects to the game, I Am Overall Enjoying It, especially Challenges and Hordes which are the parts of the game that actually are XCOM.

[spencerwayne-todd]

Keeping up with the Waynes: Christmas Special, part 1

(OOC: TW: Very slight angst. It will be resolved with a happy ending in part 2. Very slight mentions of death, injuries. Nothing graphic. This one is a bit more serious, but I try to keep it as light-hearted as possible.)

*Hall of Justice; all the teams have gathered for their annual Superhero Christmas party on Christmas eve. After each team and/or family's individual Christmases, everybody gathers at the Hall of Justice in Central City for a huge Christmas party. Everybody from far and wide comes to catch up with all of their friends from across the multiverse. This year, the newest additions are the Avengers and the X-men.*

Me, spotting someone: THOR! LOKI! Oh my god, I'm so glad you made it!

Thor (Does he need an introduction?): Lady Spencer! We would not miss it! And also we had to see what sort of universe creates a person such as yourself.

Me: That is actually why most of these people are here. WIll the others be joining us?

Loki: Yes, well, it is a conundrum. The rest of them should be coming along shortly.

Me: Oh, wonderful! OH! You must meet my husband; Thor, you and Bucky, (when he gets here), will love him. JASON!

Jason, talking to Diana Prince and J'onn Jones: Coming!

*Jason somes over*

Jason: What's up, hon?

Me: I want you to meet Loki, Norse god of Mischief, and his brother Thor, God of Thunder.

Jason: Oh, yeah, hey! Spencer mentioned you all in her mission report a couple months ago. I've been wanting to meet you.

*Thor and Loki both stand agape*

Me: Are you ok?

Loki: Uh, yes. Yes! *Hits Thor* It's just that we've never seen someone dwarf my brother before.

Jason, laughing: Believe me, it took some getting used to.

Me: Very funny, Jason. Anyway, I thought you all might hit it off. Loki loves tricks and scheming to take over the world; Thor loves beer and fighting.

Jason: Tricks and scheming to take over the world? You have to meet my brother; Loki, you'll love him. TIM!

Tim, appearing with gigantic spiked coffee in his hand: Hello.

Loki: Hello?

Jason: Replacement! Loki here likes tricks and scheming to take over the world.

Loki: I also enjoy knives and using them to stab people.

Tim: You like knives and stabbing? You have got to meet my brother; Loki, you'll love him. DAMIAN!

Me: Ok, boys! Have fun. I think the rest of your people just came through the door, and I know my little brother has been dying to meet Sam.

*Spencer leaves that group while Damian begins excitedly showing his favorite knives to Loki, who admires them and in turn shows Damian his.*

Me, activating Wayne Family Comms: August, meet me by the fondue table in 3 minutes.

August, somewhere: Roger that.

*Three minutes later*

Me: August, this is Sam Wilson, known in his universe as the superhero Falcon.

Sam: Hey, August!

August: HI!

Me: I thought that since you both have wings, and since Hawkman and Hawkgirl are both AWOL this year, you may be able to help each other out with this whole flying thing.

Sam: Absolutely! What would you like to know?

August: Well, for one thing...

*Spencer walks away, and passes J'onn Jones and Professor Charles Xavier staring into each other's eyes, unblinking.*

Me: Evening, gentlemen. Enjoying yourselves?

J'onn: Yes. Professor Xavier and I were just having the most interesting conversation about molecular transfer.

Me: Telepathic, I assume.

Charles: Yes. I believe Mr. Jones' Martian abilities may be able to help us discover more about mutations than ever before.

Me: That's great! I do hope you come to a breakthrough.

*Spencer moves off and bumps into Bruce Wayne, who is engages in a lively conversation on modern technology with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner*

Bruce (Wayne): Hey, Spence!

Me: Hi, dad! Having fun?

Bruce (Wayne): Always do!

Me: Stay away from the tequila this year, please!

Bruce (Wayne), deadpan: You're hilarious.

Me: I know!

*Spencer moves through the crowd, and up onto the roof. A single person is sitting there, on an outdoor couch in front of a firepit*

Me: Hey, mom. Sorry I took so long.

Selina Kyle (Catwoman): Aww, it's ok, kiddo. I just got here a second ago myself. That Romanoff girl is fascinating!

Me, sitting down next to Selina: Natasha? Yeah. She's been through a lot.

Selina: How have you been doing?

Me: Horrible. I haven't told Jason.

Selina: Honey, you have to tell him.

Me: Oh, yeah. I just saunter up to him and say "Hey, you know a couple months ago when I was feeling super nauseous and sick every morning, but I went on that mission to Ancient Roman empire, and I got stabbed in the gut? Turns out, I was pregnant, and not only did I lose the baby I didn't know I had, but because if the stab wound, I can't have any more." Yeah, mom. That'll go over real well.

Selina: It will. You and Jason have been in love since before Bruce adopted him. I think he will understand. Just talk to him.

Me: I don't want to! Ugh! Emotions are so disgusting!

Selina: You and Jason have always been the best at communicating in our family.

Me: That's not saying much.

Selina: Sweetie, I know. I'm dating your father. Anyway, have you girls decided where we're going to go this year on our girls' trip?

Me: Steph, Babs, and I decided to let Cass choose this year, and she hasn't yet decided. I think she's torn between deep-sea diving and Yeti hunting.

Selina: I bet she'll go with Yeti hunting.

Me: It would be fun. We haven't done that in years.

Selina: Alright, before I let the subject change too much, promise me that you'll talk to Jason after Christmas.

Me: Ok. I promise.

Selina: Great!

Me: Ugh, why do I let you talk me into stuff?!

Selina: Because I'm your mother, and you love me.

Me: Yeah, yeah.

*Scene switches to Jason at the party, standing in a group with all of his brothers and some of the Avengers. His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket. After reading it for a second, he turns and speed-walks out of the party, grabbing Roy by the arm and draggin him as he exits*

Roy: Woah, woah, Jay! What's up?

Jason: I need a drink.

Roy: It's Christmas Eve. Nothing's open.

Jason: Everything's open.

*They walk down the street a while before entering a small bar*

Roy, after their drinks arrive: So, wanna tell me why you just dragged me out of a very nice conversation with Donna (Donna Troy/ Wonder Girl)?

Jason: Spencer was pregnant.

Roy: I'm sorry, what?

Jason: Yep. Gideon just sent me the file. Spencer didn't even know until a couple of months ago.

Roy: Wow, ok. This is new. You said 'was'?

Jason: The stab wound from the Rome mission. It killed the baby and injured her so badly that she can't have any more kids.

Roy: Oh, wow. Um, ok. Have you talked about it?

Jason: She hasn't told me.

Roy: Oh, god. Ok, hang on. We're gonna need the bottle.

*After the bottle arrives*

Roy: Alright, from the top. Go.

*Two hours and several drinks later*

Roy: And so, she hasn't told you.

Jason: Right.

Roy: And you're mad at her.

Jason, sighing: No. I mean, what would I have done? I don't know how I would tell me if I was in her shoes.

Roy: True. It's got to be killing her.

Jason: Yeah. And I don't want her to be upset. I love her! I married her, for goodness sake.

Roy: Then wait.

Jason: For what?

Roy: For her to tell you. You two are the best at communication in your whole family.

Jason: That's not saying much.

Roy: Still, wait. She'll tell you.

Jason: I know. And I will be loving and understanding.

Roy: And sober.

Jason: Ooh, yeah, that's a good idea. Sober.

Roy: Let's go.

*Jason throws a $100 on the counter and they leave*

( Part 2 will be following soon.)

(@august0bone)

[loverlylight]

So I've made it pretty clear how much I love VHSCC, so since we don't know if there will be a way to watch this specific performance again once the digital tickets are no longer available, I wanted to write down some of my favorite bits that I don't see people talking about that much. Warning, this gets long, so apologies.

Acting:

-Line deliveries I loved: The Match Girl's increasing desperation when trying to sell the matches, "Bob Cratchit" in I'm The Ghost, Scrooge and Belle being so awkward and sweet together, "That's offensive, okay" when Scrooge said the Cratchits seem pretty poor, "I'll toast my hope that he dies" and "Makes you wonder how long he'll last" in Priceless, the Match Girl's "Woohoo!" in Christmas Day

-Physical acting I loved: Bob walking away and Scrooge stops him so he slowly walks back and sits down so he can have Bah Humbug yelled at him, Scrooge's little "no"s about the happiness about Christmas and then being like "yeah that's it" when Christmas Present is like maybe you're a greedy dick, Scrooge learning the Christmas Electricity dance, Jim and Della as the couple in The Final Ghost (Jim is SO happy Scrooge is dead!), Scrooge crossing his fingers when waiting to hear what day it is

-Pretty sure Curt flips off Scrooge after the "after you" gesture in Bah Humbug which is especially hilarious since he's pretty much in the Young Scrooge outfit at that point. Honestly though Curt's background acting is always fun.

-Brian is a great Fred in general, but I especially love the "even though you're a total dick" line and how he tries to hug Scrooge when he's about to leave.

-Love Jacob forcing Scrooge to sit down, but I also love the whole hand circling the face and slashing across his neck at the "your old partner who's dead" line.

-Look I know I'm showing favoritism here but Curt as baby Scrooge just looks like he's so sad but trying to be stoic about it and just poor kid. Also, it was only for a second but Curt and Lauren as Young Scrooge and his sister plus Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Past talking about her afterwards makes me cry so much. Especially them laughing in excitement about spending Christmas together, just...

-The "grateful I don't have what Tim has got" line is always hilarious, but I love how Peter takes the mike from his mom and is standing very quietly and politely before the very enthusiastically sung line and the awkward double shrug afterward.

-The "NO!" and the blue light and the spirit singing words for the first time and of course people have mentioned this but Scrooge pleading to the stone-faced people he refused to help is just... MAN. This whole song was amazing, but that climax was suitably climactic.

-Bob pulling Scrooge in for a hug, Marley holding his hand, Della patting his cheek, I'm gonna cry--

Music:

-How well Christmas Day, Bah Humbug, and the new opening number tie into each other, especially the Bah Humbug tune being prominent in the opening and the "past present and future" lines

-How well Christmas Day was rearranged to add the new parts of the story, those additions genuinely feel like they were meant to be there all along.

-Unless I'm forgetting something, the only time Meredith joins Clark in the narration is during Christmas Day, which even more makes it feel like it's Marley singing and not just as part of a chorus.

-The "Christmas Day" bit and "Christmas Eve" bits are very similar rhythmically but different tonally which is fun.

Staging/lighting/costuming/et cetera:

-The TV/VHS tape signifying death/the afterlife! While we do see Jim behind the TV at one point, the only people we see on the VHS tape part of the stage (apart from the band) are those who are dead/spirits. All the spirits in Christmas Carol enter the stage that way whenever they appear, as does the Grandma in the Match Girl, and the Match Girl herself steps onto the tape to signify her death. It also helps facilitate Meredith switching from being in the band to active story participant and AUGH it's so good!

-The backwards "c" on the Match Girl's sign

-The lighting during the song before Grandma Land! The lighting throughout the whole show is amazing, but almost all the time there's a lot of bright neon colors, so it's utilized amazingly when the colors cut out whenever the matches go out and it really sells you on the feeling of cold and isolation and stark reality.

-From what I can tell for the rest of the show only one of the rewind/pause/fast forward buttons are lit up at a time, but when all three spirits first appear they're all lit up at once.

-The Ghost of Christmas Present's outfit is awesome, the light-up shoes most of all <3

-I love all the sparkly outfits at Fred's party (I mean obviously all the costuming throughout the show is A++), but especially Lauren's dress and Curt's jacket. I want that jacket. I would have exactly zero occasion to wear it but still.

-Fred with the sparkly Santa hat and the sunglasses~

More Gift of the Magi thoughts:

-I love how much Curt and Janaya show how much Jim and Della love each other, why each of them loves the other and why the other loves them, it's just... Jim and Della are so clearly in love with each other and it's absolutely precious.

-The "21 dollars and zero cents" part is AMAZING.

-Even though losing what they cherish most stung in the moment, they're only thinking about the other person afterwards-- Della's worrying about her hair is more about what Jim will think and not her own loss, and Jim is so excited to come home and it's the "best Christmas Eve ever" even though he just gave up his watch.

-Jim in general is the personification of love and sunshine and has one of the most contagious smiles ever

Just silly things:

-Oh hey it's the second deadliest man alive from Spies Are Forever. Seems life took him on a better path this time, good for him.

-Another addition to the Lauren Lopez playing Curt Mega's mom collection.

-Look, if we're cool with the whole crossing over VHSCC and Hatchetfield concept, I want Peter Cratchit to be Pizza Pete. I know he's probably too young for it to make sense but I like the idea of Curt Mega selling the place to Curt Mega

[radio-4-is-static]

25コ目の染色体 | RADWIMPS

忘れてた泣き方 でも 今ここにある何か 目を閉じても零れそうな気がして

I will die for you, and I will live for you I will die for you, there is nothing more that I could really say to you

[hirazuki]

Ugh, I really want to finish editing this chapter so I can keep my posting streak going (9 weeks straight!), but my head is so full of work-related information that I am literally buzzing; vibrating at high speed.

Here's hoping that going to bed will help the storage space in my brain and I can work on it tomorrow T_T

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

➸ masterlist

“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it. 

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket. 

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.” 

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible. 

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you. 

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age. 

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.” 

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him. 

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you. 

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation. 

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time. 

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes. 

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–” 

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–” 

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you. 

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden. 

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut. 

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.” 

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw. 

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie. 

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape. 

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you. 

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist. 

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now. 

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives. 

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

.

.

.

[the end] 

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

➸ masterlist

[heathermason6060]

Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @jinx-nanami

[black-occamy-arts-and-crafts]

I have recently received another ask about my canvas pulling and since I've been thinking about making a serious tutorial for a while now, I took the opportunity to take some pics and vids while finishing the tree. Do please enjoy :3

1. Why pulling out canvas at all?

Primarily, this is a fantastic technique to apply cross stitch patterns directly to the item you want OR to make patches from old jeans, like this one:

With small patterns I usually don't bother to sew the canvas prior to embroidering, like with the pupper above. In case of the bigger patterns, I usually sew it lightly on the edges just to keep the canvas in one place. The more stretchy the material type is, the more important it's going to be to keep it in place.

2. Why not use a soluble canvas?

I'm sure you can and that they'll be as successful as the regular one 😁 However, as I mentioned in my previous posts here and here, I prefer to err on the side of cheaper, hence the tutorial.

3. Okay. I'm convinced - I even have a pattern embroidered on! What's next?

With small patterns (like the doggo earlier) it's going to be pretty easy. You just pull the threads one by one - preferably starting on the thinnest part of the pattern - and you may not even need the pliers. The fun (?) is with the large pieces, because the canvas has on average quite fragile threads and they like to break. Note - the canvas I'm using and I suppose most of the existing canvas types, will have four threads per one embroidery row. It's usually easier to pull one first and then the other three, bit that may vary when, for example, you managed to pierce the thread during stitching phase earlier 😉

If you were already careful during the stitching, you paid extra attention to embroider EXACTLY between the canvas threads and avoid piercing them at all. There are two benefits to that being extra careful: one, it's easier to pull it out later; two, the stitching gains an extra precision to it (and it looks great!). I recently discover that the round tip needle is making it much easier and if you're interested, there's a separate post about it as well!

On to the process! You can see from the pictures how I started with cutting out a piece of canvas that I can later reuse for something small (recycling is my hobby 🤷🏻‍♀️). I also pulled loose threads from around the tree:

Next part was to clean up the trunk and the grass on the right:

I then cut off the excess to avoid the threads tangling and slowly moved to the sides of the leaves on right and left:

You'll notice that the last photo has the thread pulled halfway through the pattern. That's because on this stage it's usually impossible to simply pull the thread out - even with the pliers it is just going to break off. I use a needle to pluck it from between the embroidery like this:

If you're more of the visual learner, I made this vid that I hope explains the process in more detail. You'll notice that I'm using my fingers and not the pliers here, because it's faster than to switch between tools.

And finally, when you're left with single direction threads like these, it's just a matter of pulling them out one by one.

And that's it! The final product looks clean and neat, AND you will notice that without the canvas beneath it's also getting a bit of volume that looks cool (and helps even out small mistakes you may have made along the way).

Thanks for reading this far! Let me know if there's something else I forgot to explain 😊

[hxney-lemcn]

When You Nerd Out (Biology Edition) — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: the overblots find out you're more of a nerd than they realized...

tw: mentions of bugs (not really but I digress), mentions of arachnids (literally just the name of one lol), mentions of reptiles (idk maybe people are scared of them), mentions of snakes.

a/n: a reptile show is happening soon and I've been looking into so many reptiles/invertebrates/amphibians I had to get this out of my system somehow. What better way then to ramble to fictional characters? (Help me)

wc: 1.2k (~180 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Roseheart

When Riddle first met you, you were downtrodden, having just been thrown into a new world filled with magic and flair that yours didn’t. Your grades weren’t the best (but far from the worst), and you always seemed tired no matter what. So when your eyes lit up when he showed you the flamingo and hedgehog cages/pens he was surprised at the amount of facts that spilled from your lips. From how flamingos get their color to how hedgehogs are carnivores. Or how you could even ramble on about flowers and plants, like how tea garden roses are the most short lived species. From then on, Riddle would come to you for even the smallest of things. Did you want to feed the animals with him? This rose bush is wilting, are there any tips to bring it back? Do you know the meaning behind the colors of roses? No particular reason for that last question…just don’t question the bouquet of white and red roses mixed with baby’s breath that show up on your doorstep the next day.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

It was hard not to notice when you seemed to be on the brink of exploding. How you’d stare at awe in Leona’s presence, as you should. But your eyes would always wander to his ears, teeth, tail, nails. It got to a point that he felt like you were mentally dissecting him. It was his downfall to growl out a short “what”, as you started to pile on questions to the beastman prince. “Are your nails sharper than a humans?”, “How much better can you hear?”, “Does your tail help you balance?” All Leona could do was stare at you with boredom. Who knew his herbivore was a nerd? He supposes he could humor you for a little bit. Press his sharp nails lightly into your skin, a teasing smile as he asks if you’d like a test. Perhaps a nibble to show you how well his canines work? It all goes awry when you start taking interest in other beastmen, who cares about the cheetah or leopard bestmen when you have a lion prince right here?

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Azul never thought twice about where he’s come from. He’s seen many kinds of merpeople, many kinds of fish or crustaceans or sharks. But he knew land dwellers didn’t have that, which is why he has the giant aquarium in his lounge. He got used to the awed expressions as well, more focused on swindling the poor souls. So when your jaw dropped and how you clearly restrained yourself from running up to the giant aquarium, Azul felt giddy. He could offer you something most couldn’t. He’d watch as you’d point out a fish or ray that you saw and explain how much you loved the color or how magnificent it looked. When you brought up how smart you thought octopi are, it was over. His heart couldn’t take it. You know he was an octopus merperson right? You were basically complimenting him without realizing it. He couldn’t get over how you stared in wonder at the blue ringed octopus that was waving back at you. And oh sevens you were giggling at it? He wasn’t getting jealous over another octopus, no way…

❥ Jamil Viper

Jamil noticed the excited look in your eyes when you learned his last name was Viper, but nothing had happened at the time. It wasn’t until Kalim had you rambling about animals did Jamil realize just how much you seemed to love snakes. How you named your favorite in a heartbeat to how you scrutinized the ones you looked into as pets. It wasn’t until Kalim started to offer to buy you all those snakes and more did he have to step in. Yet Jamil felt flustered when your gaze landed on him, your eyes that had been filled with fondness while rambling about snakes had only seemed to get brighter when looking at him. Reluctantly, Jamil let you drag him to a reptile show, something Kalim had pushed him to do. For his own sanity, Jamil ignored the giant pouch of money Kalim tried to stealthily hand you, instead, focusing on your awed expression at the variety of animals. He couldn’t help but watch the snakes in awe with you, and when you asked him if he wanted to help you set up an enclosure for one…who was he to say no?

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil is a busy man. With photo and movie shoots to interviews to taking care of himself, there isn’t much time to stop and smell the roses. But with you, he tries to make time, and it's like a breath of fresh air every time. It was nice to sit outside and bask in the sun (with sunscreen of course) and talk with you. Something had clearly caught your eye when you dropped from the bench to scoop something off the ground. Vil thought he knew you well enough…apparently not. He hadn’t expected to see you shove a rolly polly, pill bug, potato bug, whatever you want to call them into his face…okay maybe he’s exaggerating. You held the little thing far enough away that it wasn’t all too startling. He swore he never saw you so excited about something, or how you rambled that they weren’t bugs, but crustaceans that live on land. The way you gently held the critter to how fondly you looked at the curled up thing made Vil’s heart flutter. You always seemed to find beauty in things most would shudder at. How odd.

❥ Idia Shroud

Idia had no idea how you managed, but you had convinced him to get a plant. You had called it a zz plant, and thought it would be perfect to liven his room up as it didn’t need direct sunlight. He watched the plant as it sat next to a grow light, it needed something since he didn’t have any windows. The dark purple leaves were pretty, you were right. As much as he tried to keep up with watering, he would forget, but Ortho seemed to have it covered. When little leaves started sprouting, Idia felt proud, a weird feeling he wasn’t used to. When you came over and saw how well it was doing you beamed. That stupid fluttery feeling filled him as you praised him, not to mention it mixing with feeling proud. Not a good combo, as now he was thinking of asking you if there’s any other plant you may recommend, just to get you rambling once more about different plants that could thrive in his little cave of a room.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Although Malleus loves to hear your voice, you always seem content to hear him ramble. The way your eyes watched intently, trying to find what he was pointing out on a gargoyle, or how you’d ask questions about the differences of a gargoyle and grotesque. At first, he was concerned when you gasped, had you gotten hurt somehow? Yet he found you excitedly pointing out a house gecko that stood near the gargoyle he was talking about. He watched you in awe as your eyes glittered, and how you were basically jumping up and down. Then you started going on about geckos, reptiles, and all sorts of odd things people keep as pets. The way you basically swooned at the thought of owning a crested gecko or a crocodile skink, Malleus was ready to hand you all the money you needed. He is the best and worst, as he’ll never tell you no and fund your hobby till your heart’s content. Just make sure to pay attention to him too, yeah? Unlike skinks or tarantula’s, he likes your affection. Plus, he’s the best reptile of them all, no? He’d gladly show you his dragon form.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.