#and please remember that this is in no way EVERYONE'S experience--it's just my own told thru dite

[safyresky]

Shadowy Snippet: Dite Comes Out

A/N: Been thinking of this one all week while fist fighting covid, given that it is ace awareness week! It's a little Into the Shadows snippet (shadowy snippet) I wrote a while back while having feelings well past ten o'clock. At one point in ItS, the Legates share their deepest fears—and Dite's is very close to home: she's afraid of coming out, as ace, to the other Legates.

Her scene here, her whole spiel, is very near and dear to my heart. Her coming out as Ace was my experience after discovering the term Asexuality, and trying to come out to my friends. It's very...personal, but I really wanted to share it because it's so near and dear to my heart, as is Dite, and it just felt right to share it with you all before the week ended.

So TW for aphobia; Dite shares her experiences with it for the whole first half. But I promise you, after she comes out, the Legates curb stomp any and all aphobia and love and support Dite just the way she is, as we all should do with all our ace/aro pals!

So, please enjoy! Happy ace awareness week!

(And sorry for the kind of like, not quite ending ending. It's a shadowy snippet after all—it's meant to continue into more Legates offering up their fears and such :). I did my best to give it a sort of ending ending)

---

Jacqueline sniffled, wiping away the wet with the palms of her hands. “I guess I just thought that maybe if you guys knew the truth, you wouldn’t accept me. You’d treat me different, or be as afraid of me as…as I’ve been.”

“Oh, Jacqueline!” Dite said, a warble in her voice. She was tearing up in a very cartoonish manner; it was very reminiscent of Studio Ghibli. Nearly flipping the table in her haste to fly over to the sprite, she grabbed her tightly and held her very, very close. “We’re you’re friends! We love you! We’d never turn you away. If you were to freeze right here, right now, we’d stay put and be with you the entire time. I’d be with you the entire time.”

Dite held Jacqueline’s cheeks gently, her warm palms wiping away the rest of the wet on her face. Jacqueline leaned into her hands with a happy sigh. “I know that now,” she said, her voice wavering. I am so in love, she thought, glad nobody could hear her thoughts.

Dite sniffled, hugging the sprite tightly and burying her head into Jacqueline’s shoulder. “I’m always here for you,” she said, quietly enough that only Jacqueline could hear. “Always.”

“Thank you,” Jacqueline whispered back, just as quietly with a careful squeeze.

“It’s funny,” Dite said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I have the same fear as you do. Did you know that?”

“You do?” Jacqueline asked, dumbfounded.

Dite nodded, letting go of the sprite and turning to the table at large. Her fellow Legates—her friends—all stared at her. Curious. Waiting. “I do. Jacqueline’s fear is so similar to coming out, and I’m just as afraid as she was. I’m terrified, actually, to come out to you guys, but I guess I’m about to do it anyway!”

“Come out?” Myles asked. “You already did? You told us ages ago, Dite!”

“You did!”

“I remember that!”

“Yeah! You were all like I’M PAN and we were all like SICK!” Blossom said.

Dite giggled in spite of it all. “I did. You were all very supportive. But I wasn’t referring to that,” Dite said. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve taught you all the difference between romantic versus sexual identity, right?”

The Legates all nodded.

“Okay, good. That’ll make this a bit easier. Coming out as panromantic was surprisingly easy! It wasn’t a problem, at home. I mean, most, if not all the gods are panromantic. My sexual orientation is, uh, is. Is different. It’s, well, none,” she said with a shrug and a flustered laugh. “I’m asexual. Ace for short. I don’t feel sexual attraction. Um, it was. When I learnt about it, about ace as a term, it was a relief. I thought I was broken, and I felt really bad about it. So learning about it from the ace gods was a blessing. Pun unintended,” she added.

“But appreciated,” Charlie said.

“Speak for yourself,” Jacqueline shot back.

Dite giggled. “I told my parents right away. It was so reliving to have the term, I felt, well normal! And Mom and Dad were super supportive. Of course they were! God of Love, Goddess of the Soul? They understood completely and were really happy for me,” she said, hand sliding from her neck to her chest. “It went so well that I thought it’d go just as well with anyone else I told.”

“It didn’t, did it?” Jacqueline asked quietly, a chilly hand on the goddess’s forearm.

“No,” Dite said, the tears pooling now. “Not at all.”

A few tears fell; her wings fluttered in front of her, wiping them away carefully. “Dad’s side was ah, bad. Mom’s side was somehow worse! Diana and Artemis and Athena and Minerva were super supportive. I mean, of course they were! They’re the ones who taught me about asexuality, and the spectrum, and everything! But the rest of the gods? Holy guacamole,” Dite said, flushing. “It was all, that’s just a fancy way to call yourself a virgin and not feel bad about it! or, like, you just haven’t met the right one yet! And the best? Oh, the best was when my dear old grand mater said I wasn’t living up to my namesake. Um, hello? It’s like, have you ever heard of hedonism at all? Not all pleasure is inherently sexual! I would know! I’m the ding dang Goddess of Pleasure, for goddesses sake! Gods, it is SO on brand for Venus to say something like that. Aphrodite would never!”

Dite huffed, tucking her side bangs back behind her ears. Xander looked like he wanted to speak up; Jacqueline glared at him, making a silent shushing motion.

“Anyway,” Dite continued, her wings fluttering, a few feathers falling down. “I hoped that maybe with some casual friends it’d be better. They’d be more accepting, you know? But that was a mistake. When I told them I was ace and explained it to them, I got laughed at and called. Well. A baby. They thought the whole thing was hilarious, ridiculous; I tried my best to explain that it wasn’t but they were so caught up in the Roast of Hedone that they did not listen. They talked about sex things and when they used a term I didn’t know, I was told ‘oh, don’t worry, we’ll tell you when you’re older’.”

The Legates grimaced; someone hissed.

“Right? It was awful! After that experience, I confided in another friend of mine, who I was very close to. And they were so supportive and accepting and it was so nice! But then it wasn’t. It was all kind of misunderstanding questions, which is fine, you know, I’m all for educating people on various sexual and gender identities, so I was more than happy to clear up any asexual misconceptions they may have had! But then it was like, if I cracked a sex joke they’d be like ‘haha, I didn’t expect THAT from YOU given that you’re ACE!’ I mean, come ON. Just because I don’t experience sexual attraction doesn’t mean I’m not going to leap at the opportunity to make a good that’s what she said joke, right?”

“Oh my god, yeah!”

“Totally!”

“Thank you! GODS it was so FRUSTRATING,” Dite said, blinking tears out of her eyes and clenching her fists. “They kept making comments like that, and it hurt! A lot. But I think what hurt the most was when they outed me to a bunch of mutual pals. And I was RIGHT THERE!” Dite said angrily, gesturing angrily in front of her, hands splayed. “And they just said it like it was nothing! As if being ace was meaningless compared to coming out as gay or trans or non-binary. And don’t get me wrong, coming out as queer in any way shape or form is hard. I don’t want to dismiss the struggles others have had. But so is coming out as ace. It isn’t any less hard as any other queer identities.”

"I hope that friend isn't your friend anymore," Charlie said, darkly.

"They're not," Dite said. "And I miss them! A lot! But someone outing you is a hard thing to forgive and forget."

"Especially when there's fire involved," Jacqueline said.

Dite chuckled. She sighed, closing her eyes tightly. “I stopped coming out, after that. I didn’t tell anyone else.” Her eyes snapped open. “And it’s been like, a growing fear the longer I stay in the closet. And every time I fought the shadows, all I saw were the only people I haven't told say all of those things back to me, but somehow meaner!”

“Us,” Spring asked without asking.

“Yeah,” Dite confirmed, sadly. “And even though I knew deep down that none of you would say or do things like the shadows were making me think, I couldn't be sure. Not with all of my past experiences.”

Wings droopy, Dite sniffled, wiping more wet off of her face with her forearm. Her hand got cold, suddenly; she looked down, blinking away tears, her heart (and wings) fluttering when she saw Jacqueline’s pale hand entwined in her tan one.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” Jacqueline said, voice heavy. She gazed up at the goddess, her eyes looking watery. “We’ve come a long way, but people are still spiteful and afraid of what they don’t understand.”

“Or just bigots,” Night added.

Dite gave a watery laugh; Jacqueline squeezed her hand. “That too.”

“And with how hyper sexualized ordibeing culture is?” Olivia said, looking cross. “Everyone is like, sex obsessed! It’s…” she searched for words, coming up empty.

“Yucky,” Myles said wisely.

“Yes! Exactly! It’s yucky,” Olivia agreed.

Dite’s wings gave a hopeful flutter.

“And the emphasis in most cultures on the nuclear lifestyle, and children,” Xander added. “It’s mind boggling. They don’t care about your sex life when you’re hetero, but the MOMENT you come out as anything but, let alone ace? It’s suddenly a Big Deal,” Xander said, angrily. “Dite, I need you to know something. It’s very important,” he continued, reaching over the table and placing his hand gently over top of Dite’s free hand. “You are not alone,” he began, looking right into her teary brown eyes. “I’m also ace! Ace and aro!” He said with a grin.

“Really?!”

Xander nodded. “Really! I’ve known about the label for years, but I’ve never felt the need to come out. Just knowing the terms existed and defined what I was feeling was good enough for me! It makes me feel like less of an outsider. And I hope that sharing this with you makes you feel far more welcome than anyone has ever been any time you’ve tried to express yourself. You are not alone, Hedone.”

“Yeah!” Myles said, shooting up in his seat so fast that the chair fell over. “This is an ace safe space!” he declared, hoping onto the table. “Safe ace space? I think that’s got a better ring to it,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, and yes, still standing on the table. "A safe space for aces! That's the one. Safe space for aces!" he declared again.

“Awwh, you guys,” Dite said, with a wobbly smile, her free hand on her heart. “You’re all so sweet, I’m… this means so much to me,” she admitted, “I can’t even find the words to express how much I…ah! Just! Ah!”

“You mean a lot to us,” Jacqueline said, grabbing Dite’s hand in both of hers now. “We love you for you, Dite. And we’re here for you! Listen,” she said, standing up from her seat and grabbing the goddesses head, turning it towards her. “If anyone, anyone, ever makes you feel that way again, or makes comments like those people did about you, I will freeze them right solid. Like, it’s on sight.”

“That’s very sweet Jacqueline, thank you,” Dite said with a soft smile.

“I would happily kill for you, Dite,” Jacqueline replied, earnestly.

“Okay, maybe tone down the murder, Jacqueline?” Spring asked.

“Never."

“We could also just disappear them for you,” Night said. “Right into the void,” he added.

“Night!” Spring chided.

“Ou yeah! You chuck someone into the void, you’re never seeing them again. Erases them right out of existence!” Day added, chipper.

“Day!” Spring chided again.

“Cleaner too,” Night added.

“Hang on a sec,” Myles interrupted, turning to face Xander now, yes, still on the table. “Aro? What’s that mean?”

“Aromantic! It’s the flipside of asexual,” Xander explained. "So while Asexual is little to no sexual attraction, Aromantic is little to no romantic attraction."

“THERE’S A WORD FOR IT?!” Myles shouted.

“Yes!” Dite said with a laugh. “Of course there is!”

“AND I’M ONLY JUST LEARNING IT?!"

"Apparently!"

"AMAZING!”

The other Legates laughed, Olivia gently pulling her brother down from the table. Dite smiled to herself; seeing the reactions of her friends be so positive? And warm? And knowing it wasn't just her? She found herself filled with so much warmth, hope and confidence! Those shadows had been wrong. Dead wrong.

And Dite couldn’t wait to pummel them the next time they tossed some casual aphobia her way.

---

[junkissed]

leaning on the everlasting arms

member — childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre — angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count — 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis — as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings — female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes — although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 — for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference. 

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether. 

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long. 

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years. 

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal. 

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known. 

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady. 

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so. 

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be. 

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses. 

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough. 

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room. 

“it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second. 

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes. 

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth. 

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth. 

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again. 

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you, 

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you��d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer. 

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement. 

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead. 

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. 

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

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[honeybeefae]

You're Mine (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// After leaving Eris behind to fulfill your parents' desire for marriage, knowing the two of you could never be, you did your best to move on. It had been five years, and you were finally starting to settle into your life with your husband when a late-night visitor brought back feelings you thought you had long since buried. 

(This idea has burrowed its way into my head and won’t leave anytime soon, so I’m dragging you all into this with me. I hope you like it <3 It's been awhile since I've wrote anything so if you have any critiques or opinions, please let me know!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Fertility Issues, Verbal Abuse (Spouse), Physical Abuse (Spouse) (A slap but nothing more), Possessive!Eris, Jealous!Eris, Cheating, Breeding Kink, Spanking

Five Years Ago

“Mother, please!” You beg, tears streaking down your hot cheeks as she gives you a look full of pity. It was a useless cause to try to convince your father against this arrangement, but your mother… she used to be a dreamer like you. She once thought of running away with a prince, of living happily ever after, so why wouldn’t she give you the same chance?

“Darling, please, collect yourself.” She urges, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards her. “Pierre will be here any moment with his family. They cannot see you like this.”

“They don’t have to! You could sneak me out the back, let me run away with-” You begin only to flinch when she grabs your face roughly, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of anger and agony. 

“With you, Y/N? With Eris?” She hisses, eyebrows furrowing together. “He is the heir to the Court. He will never choose you. He cannot. He will go with whichever maiden secures more political power, and that is not you.”

Your lower lip trembles as her words cut through you like hot steel. They settle in your soul, trying to burn out any hope you might have, and yet you persist. 

“No, Mother, you don’t understand. I love him. He loves me. We’ve been courting for months, dancing together and strolling through the gardens. Hells, he gave me this!” You gesture to the ruby necklace resting above your collarbone, wrapped in a gold band that resembles a fox’s tail. “Everyone has seen us together. His family, my family, does that mean nothing?”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth turning downwards as her fury fades into sorrow. You swallow, trying to get the lump in your throat to disappear as the silence stretches on, but it refuses. 

“My darling girl,” She coos, her hands now cupping your cheeks. “One’s first love is something special, an experience worth remembering, but it is one that is never meant to last. He has his duties, as do you. It was never meant to be.”

The realization of the situation hits you in waves of denial, anger, and agony. It makes your head swim, and your stomach lurch as you try desperately to find anything to keep you afloat. 

“What if he does choose me, though? What if his parents see me as he does? Someone who makes him smile and laugh, who treats him well. If you could just let me speak with him one more time, keep Pierre and his father busy, I only need an hour.” You try to bargain with her, placing your hands over her own. She goes to respond, your hope hanging by a thread, only for your father’s voice to rise above the two of you.

“He has moved on, Y/N.” He sighs, clearly exasperated by your antics. “Beron has told us about Eris’s betrothed. It’s been arranged since birth. It is time for you to do the same.”

“But if he knew, why would he fall in love with me? I know what I saw, I know what I felt.” You press, wrapping your arms around yourself as your father’s jaw clenches. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You don’t think he would?” His scowl deepens as he glances at your mother over your shoulder before fishing for something in his coat pocket, ignoring his wife as she begins to protest. “Read this.”

“What is it?” You ask.

“Just read it.” He pushes the parchment into your hand, rolling his eyes.

Your fingers tremble as you glance at the letter, noticing Eris’s penmanship immediately. The words seem to blur together towards the end, but you realize it isn’t due to his writing but your tears. One of them splashes on the paper, staining it immediately as his voice echoes in your mind.

I regret to inform you of the ending of our courtship, effective immediately. Please know this is through not fault of your own. You were a wonderful experience. I should not have led you on, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Even though I am the least deserving of it. 

Yours,

Eris Vanserra

A loud sound echoed off the walls, and it wasn’t until your knees hit the floor that you realized it had come from you. You felt the world collapsing in, your dreams fading with each heartbeat as your worst fear came true. Your parents watched, one with sympathy and one with indifference, as you came to grips with reality. 

The silence after was choking you as the paper lay taunting you, his signature ingrained in your brain as a loud knock was heard from the front. Soft hands gingerly picked you up as your father’s footsteps led to the door, his voice booming as he greeted Pierre.

“Come now, Y/N,” She shushes you, brushing your tears away with a mother’s softness. “I know it hurts, but in time, it will fade, and you will find happiness with Pierre and your future family.”

“I cannot imagine feeling anything other than this, Mama.” You murmur, numbness starting to spread throughout your body as she smiles sadly and kisses your forehead.

“You will, sweet girl.” She assures you, pinching your cheeks to bring some color back as Pierre draws closer. 

“How do you know?” Your gaze raises to meet hers, searching.

She chuckles, though you know it is without humor, watching as she seems to drift far away for a moment before the sounds of your father's throat clearing behind you brings her back. 

Her arms pull you into a tight hug as she whispers into your ear, “Because I did.”

Present Day

From your wedding day to now, you have been desperately searching for the happiness your mom said would come. You threw everything into your relationship, forcing Eris into the darkest crevices of your heart so that you could move on. Pierre wasn’t an awful man. He was kind and generous, always concerned about your feelings and ensuring you were cared for. 

He knew about your past with Eris and never pushed you but soothed you like a balm to your soul. Your love for Pierre was different, but it was there; you just needed something more. However, you knew better than to dream of it. You could be happy with him, will be happy with him. 

Eris had made it very clear that he did not intend to return for you. He hadn’t even had the courage to come to your wedding nor send you any well wishes. You had seen him since, of course, but he always did his best to avoid you. If you did happen to catch his gaze during a dinner or ball, his eyes were always full of anger. 

It was in your best interest to forget all about him. 

You were torn from your thoughts as the front door opened, your husband poking his head around to look for you. A soft smile pulls at your lips effortlessly, rising up to greet him, only to stall when you see how angry he is. 

“Pierre, what is it?” You ask, forehead creasing as he all but slams a letter he had been holding onto the dining table.

“The new high lord,” He scowls, jaw clenching. “He is asking myself and the other merchants to travel across Prythian to secure new deals or else forfeit our titles.”

New high lord?

“Beron is dead?” You whisper, grasping the edge of the table. “How did he…who did…was it…?”

“Eris, yes, the treasonous snake,” Pierre grunts, raising his eyes to you. “It apparently happened overnight, and he is already throwing everything out. I knew he was a bastard, but to-”

“He is not a bastard,” You say before you can catch yourself, your mind screaming at you for rushing to his defense. You owe him nothing—no loyalty, no love, nothing. So why did you speak?

The air in the room seemed to change as he cocks his head, his eyes darkening dangerously. You feel the hairs on your neck raise as you step back, trying to put distance between you. However, Pierre doesn’t hesitate to follow you as the letter is now crumpled in his fist.

“I knew it.” He snaps, nostrils flaring as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him. You let out a small yelp, trying to push against him, but he doesn’t yield. “I’ve given you everything you could ever want. I’ve built you this home, this life when I could’ve treated you like filth.”

“Pierre, please, let go,” Your voice is a whimper as his grasp tightens. “You’re hurting me.”

“Me? Hurting you?” His laugh echoes off the walls, one of his hands running hastily through his hair. “Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. I’ve put up with this teenage moping for five fucking years. I’ve played the part of the gentleman, the family man, and you still can’t get over him. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover what you are.”

Tears fall down your face as you sob, finally gaining the strength to rip your arm away as he turns and punches a hole into the wall beside him. You cannot stop yourself from trembling as his shoulders shake with fury, his breath coming in short pants.

“Do you know what they all tell me? Our friends and family?” Pierre asks, closing his eyes. “They tell me how sorry they are for me. How much they pity me. They’ve even suggested taking a whore on the side, so at least that way I could secure an heir.”

The last sentence strikes deep, one of your hands resting on your lower stomach as he gives you a mocking laugh. You had been trying to have a child for a while now. Under the care of a midwife, you had been drinking the teas, reducing your stress, and month after month, you failed. Pierre had been there for you throughout it, promising you that it was not your fault, and for him now to throw it back in your face…it made you sick. 

“Y-you told me that it was okay, that these things take time. Going into this marriage, you knew what I had been through and who my former lover was, and you said it was fine.” You hate how your voice trembles as you keep your eyes on the floor. “I thought you understood me, that you could see I was finally starting to heal, but was it all a lie? Have I been sleeping next to someone who I do not know?”

He watches you momentarily, taking in how meek you look and the tears that now stain your face. Footsteps fill the silence and stop once you see his feet, a soft hand coming to cup your chin and force you to look up.

Pierre was there in body but not in mind. The eyes that once held so much comfort were now empty, the smile now a scowl, and his touch burning rather than soothing. He turned your face from side to side, mesmerizing your beauty before smirking.

“I guess that’s two men who’ve used you now, huh?”

You don’t register the slap you gave him until you see his pupils dilate, your eyes widening in fear as your palm begins to burn from the contact. He snarls at you, and before you can apologize or scream, you aren’t sure which one, he backhands you and sends you spiraling to the floor. 

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t wait up.” He calls over his shoulder, straightening his jacket before he walks out the door without even a glance at your crumpled body.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to collect yourself off the floor, your face red-hot even though you know you have already healed. He hit you. He yelled at you, belittled you, and then slapped you as if it were nothing. A wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Your hands dig into the wood of the table as you pull yourself up, hating how weak you feel as you cry. This wouldn't have happened if you had kept your mouth shut. Why did you even say anything? After all this time, why did you feel you still needed to speak up for the man who deserted you?

“Fuck!” You scream as your sadness turns to rage, grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at the wall. It instantly shatters and clatters to the floor, flower petals scattering everywhere with the glass shards. 

It doesn’t make you feel better. So you throw another vase and another, and then a portrait until the room looks like a tornado ripped through it. But nothing is working to fill the hole in your chest that was just violently ripped open once again. 

A clock nearby chimes out twelve times, and you blink as you realize how much time has passed. Your adrenaline leaves your body quickly as exhaustion takes place, and your eyes glare at the front door one last time before you start heading up the stairs.

However, as your foot hits the first step, a loud knocking startles you. At first, you think it’s Pierre, drunk and probably without a key, but then you hear a voice. A voice that has haunted your dreams for five years.

“Y/N? Y/N, open the door. I know you are in there.” 

It can’t be…

You tiptoe to the door, your heart racing as you stare down at the knob. What should you do? Why was he here? What did he want? Should you even let him in? The consequences could be deadly, especially after what he had done just last night to his own father, but your heart was winning over your head right now.

“Please, my love, let me in.”

Your hand grasps the knob and turns it before you can stop yourself, the door opening to reveal Eris.

He looks the same, damn him. His red hair was tied back in a half-up style, the rest falling over his slender shoulders covered in a thick, dark green coat. Eris’s eyes, the color of molten amber, met yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch. Your stomach fills with butterflies as the night air caresses your skin, whispering long-forgotten memories that send your heart fluttering. 

“Eris…” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. Whatever spell had taken over the two of you broke as you said his name. His hands came up to grasp your face as he pulled you in and kissed you, lips molding to yours as if they had never told you goodbye. 

And, cauldron help you, you kiss him back just as fiercely. You had thought about seeing him again more often than you care to admit, about how you would scream at him for what he did to you or prove to him you were better off without him. But once again, your heart craves what your mind desperately tries to discard.

It’s only when your back hits the wall of the foyer that you pull away, gasping for air as you shove him back. He blinks, dumbfounded, and goes for you again, but you shake your head and slap his hands away, gaze hot as years of resentment flood your veins.

“How dare you come into my home and kiss me like that after all you did.” You seethe, teeth clenching as he regards you like a caged predator. “You can’t just show up and do that! You can’t come in here and ruin my marriage, my life like you have any ownership of me.”

“I don’t think I was the one to ruin your marriage, little fox.” Eris replies smoothly, standing straight and giving a pointed look behind you to the mess of a dining room. 

“Don’t call me that.” You snarl, wrapping your arms around your body for comfort. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I won’t,” He states, looking you over. “I’ve defeated my father. I’m rebuilding the court and our reputation, gutting it from the inside out. I’m here to collect the last thing I need.”

Your brain goes fuzzy as he stretches out his hand, waiting for you to fall into his arms as if the past were not there. As if his letter and necklace weren’t still tucked away in a drawer by your bed. No matter how badly you missed and yearned for him, you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

“You led me on for years,” You say softly, your voice numb as you take another step back. “You courted me as if you cared. You made me believe we were real, that we would be together forever. Do you think I could just forgive and forget that after you left me with only a letter for an explanation?”

“I thought you were smarter than that.” Eris sighs and clenches his jaw, running a hand down his face as he closes the front door. 

“Excuse me? Get the-” 

“I didn’t write that letter, Y/N.” He interrupts you, coming to stand in front of you in just two short steps. “My father forced me. And yours, for that matter. I would never let you go. It was only under threat of your own harm that I chose to obey, but I swore to myself that as soon as I took control, I would come find you.”

The angry retort you had building dies in your throat, your head tilting to the side as if you hadn’t heard him correctly. 

“You…you didn’t mean what you wrote?” Your voice has a hint of hope, like the last spark of a fire, but you can’t help it. If he was telling the truth, and you still weren’t entirely convinced he was, it meant he had been waiting for you all these years. 

He grabs your face again, but it’s soft and caring this time, his thumb brushing across your cheek and collecting a tear you didn’t know had escaped. You look into his eyes, finding nothing but honesty, which only worsens it. 

“It hurt that you think I would treat you that way, that I could just throw everything we had away…” Eris whispers, tilting your chin up so you can’t look away. “I’m not your husband. I take care of what is mine. Forever. ”

The mention of him makes you wince and somewhat come back to your senses, glancing towards the clock and realizing he could be back at any moment. If he caught you with Eris, there would be no telling what he would do. Eris could take care of himself; he was a High Lord now after all, but you were vulnerable.

“Pierre…he could be home any minute. Eris, you can’t be here. You need to leave.” You frown, trying to move past him, only to gasp when his hand moves down to your neck and stills you. The hold isn’t tight, but you freeze, wide eyes looking up at him in worry. “Eris, if he finds you here with me-”

“Did you not hear what I said, little fox?” He asks mockingly, bowing his head so his lips can brush against your ear. “I take care of what is mine. And you are mine.”

Eris accentuates his words with a roll of his hips, his half-hard cock pressing against your lower half teasingly. You don’t stop the whimper that sneaks past your lips or the way your neck turns so he can mouth over your pulse point. 

“I’ve waited years for this moment, to see you again and take you home. I’ve watched as that pathetic excuse for a man dotes on you and brags about how pretty you sound in bed.” He growls, grabbing your hips and lifting you up effortlessly as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “The only thing that kept me sane was knowing you weren’t moaning from him like you did for me, that he can’t fill you up like your needy little pussy begs for.” 

“Please…” You whine, though you aren’t entirely sure what you are asking for. His touch was like fire against your cool skin, setting you aflame in a way you hadn’t felt in years. 

One of his hands snakes between the two of you and quickly finds your panties, his lips curling back as he feels the heat of your cunt. You swear you hear him purr as he begins to furiously bite and suck on your neck and collarbone, marking you. 

“Tell me what you need.” Eris commands, pulling back to look into your eyes.

Words fail you momentarily as you stare at each other, your heart threatening to explode as he refuses to drop his gaze. There were so many consequences to this decision, no matter what you choose, and so many things that need to be said before you can logically proceed.

But when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit and circles it slowly, the corner of his mouth tilting up to smirk, you know logic will not win tonight. 

“You, Eris,” You moan, trying to press further onto his hand for more friction. “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

You don’t have time to scream as he squeezes you tightly and carries you up the stairs, your body bouncing so that your lower half hits his cock with each step. He groans and looks around momentarily before kicking open your bedroom door. He then throws you onto the bed and starts to undo his belt, all while keeping those burning amber eyes on you.

“Strip. Now.” He orders, voice raspy as you hastily follow his instructions, your fingers fumbling with the laces of your corset. Eris is already naked by the time you have it halfway undone, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he stalks over to you and grabs both sides of your top. 

“I hope you weren’t too fond of this.” Eris hums, giving no warning as he rips it in two.  You shiver as the cool air licks at your skin, your nipples pebbling while he licks his lips in anticipation. “I always thought you looked better bare anyways.”

Heat runs down your body at the comment, your thighs clenching, immediately catching his eye. You try to rise up on your knees to kiss him, but he is quick to pin you down, straddling your waist as his cock rests heavily over your cunt. 

“Let me touch you, please,” You don’t even recognize your own voice as you beg for him. It had been so long since you had felt this needy for someone. “I need something, anything, just please!”

Before you can babble anymore, his lips collide with yours, claiming you possessively as two of his fingers prod at your soaking pussy. He bites down on your bottom lip, and at the same time, he shoves his fingers inside, giving you no prep as he swallows your cries. 

“I know, baby, I know,” He coos into your ear, moving to nibble on your earlobe. “We can make love next time, but right now, right now I need to fuck your pretty little brain out to make up for lost time.”

Your back arches as he curls his fingers, finding your spot with ease and teasing you as he kisses down your neck and to your breasts. He sucks your left nipple into his mouth, capturing it between his teeth and tugging until you moan. His cock is leaking against your thigh as he ruts against you. 

Rough sex wasn’t new to you, though it had been a while. Pierre was always gentle, taking his time, and while Eris had his moments, he was quite fond of making you beg. However, when fantasizing about this, you always imagine Eris cherishing the moment. This was raw and feral.

“Eris, I’m c-close…” You groan, rolling your hips so he can get even deeper. Your walls flutter around his thick fingers, squeezing them, but right before you can fall over the edge, he pulls them out roughly. “No!”

“The only way you are cumming tonight is around this cock.” He grunts, flipping you over so that you are lying on your stomach before dragging your hips up. Both of his hands squeeze your ass before he lines himself up to your hole, rubbing his length up and down to coat himself in your slick.

“Ohhh fuck…” You moan as the head catches on your clit, your entire cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Fuck me.”

“Not yet, little fox. I want you to tell me how badly you want it.” Eris says lowly, grasping his cock and barely pressing into you before pulling away. “Tell me how much you missed me, how much you thought about me while your husband fucked you in this bed.”

Your nails dig so hard into the mattress you are sure you’ll rip it as you screw your eyes shut, already so sensitive from his teasing. It felt so wrong to speak the thoughts you have been burying for so long, to admit that you never got over the High Lord behind you. 

All of your inhibitions get thrown out the window, though, as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, his fingers pinching your clit in annoyance. 

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about this, about me, Y/N. That whenever your husband would roll over at night after a mediocre fuck you wouldn’t rub that needy clit while wishing it was me.” He hisses, one of his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking until your neck is craned up. “Give yourself to me, let it go.”

“Yes, okay, yes, I haven’t stopped thinking about you!” You sob, every nerve in your body on edge as he grins in approval. “Every time I had sex, every night in the bath, I couldn’t stop picturing your hands. Your chest. Your cock.”

Eris rewards your confession with what you had been craving, thrusting his entire length in one fluid movement as your pussy burns from the stretch. 

“More. Give me more.” He demands, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward.

“I-” You swallow, your mind starting to fuzz with the ecstasy of having him back inside you. “I would close my eyes and pretend it was you. I wanted it to be you. He could never compare to you, could never make me feel this good.”

Your head drops down as he lets go of your hair in favor of grabbing your hips, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead as he truly fucked you. There was no gentleness, no tendrils of love, just pure ownership and passion.

And cauldron damn you did you love it.

“Gods damn it,” Eris swears, moving one of his hands underneath you to rest on your abdomen so he could feel just how deep inside you he was. “Touch yourself, Y/N. I want you to cum on my cock as I fill you up.”

There was a distant panic in the back of your head at the thought of him cumming inside you. You weren’t on any special tea to prevent pregnancy. In fact, you were on something to encourage it. 

“Eris, wait-” You try to protest, your words dying in your throat as he starts to rub your clit for you. His hands are calloused from years of use, giving you the friction that you need to cum within minutes. “Eris, I’m not on any birth control. If you-”

“What, you think I don’t want to knock you up?” He chuckles, voice rough as he increases the speed of both his fingers and thrusts. “Oh, Y/N, did you already forget you’re mine? I came here to claim you and breed you, little fox.”

“Oh my gods,” You whimper, the image only making you draw closer to your finish as he bends over to get right next to your ear. 

“You’re going to take all of my cum and thank me for it. I’m going to do what your husband couldn’t, right here in his bed for him to smell when he comes home.” Eris sneers, a tingle going up his spine as he feels his balls tighten with the need to release. “I’ll have you barefoot and pregnant for me before he can even come get you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours, Eris!” You repeat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clench around him. He gives one more circle on your bud, and you are gone, lost to a mind-numbing orgasm that has him throwing his head back and roaring. 

Every muscle in your body tightens and releases as you greedily milk his own cum into your womb, your screams echoing off the bedroom walls. You don’t even register Eris biting your shoulder, the pain mixing dangerously with the pleasure as small rivulets of blood run down your back. 

You feel your knees give out as you collapse onto the bed, lungs begging for air while Eris slowly pulls out of you. He is silent, and you have just enough strength to look back to see him watching his speed leak out of your gaping hole, his fingers quick to collect it and stuff it back inside you.

“Eris…” You whisper, your eyes are heavy as he gingerly lifts you up and cradles you in his arms. “Is this…did you really come back for me?”

He lets out a small huff of air in humor as he nods, kissing your forehead and smoothing away your hair. Exhausted, you lean into the touch, and he seems to hold you closer. “I’ll always come back for you, little fox.” 

[yeahihyperfixtate]

Hi your writing is so cute, I saw you're taking reqs rn...

could I possibly have a neurodivergent (maybe specifically ADHD) reader x whatever characters you'd like (preferably all of them but your choice pook) thanks!!

♡ —sylus x adhd!reader

content : fluff, downbad sylus, mc!reader has adhd depicted from a specific perspective, sylus heavily fw adhd havers <3, (heavily written on my own personal perspective of adhd) maybe a pt.2

authors note : my first req <3, this is actually fantastic cause i've got adhd myself! im not too confident with the others yet, literally all my drafts rn are all sylus based (im ashamed to say im not familiar with zayne and xaviers character enough to write them,,, yet.)

please do not characterise adhd based on specifically these events, this is what i've personally experienced and found easy to write, (not everyone has the same experiences/behaviour!)

♡ — adhd!reader who repeats the same story to her current associate at least twice, blissfully unaware of the repetition, a common occurrence—she just can't help herself.. the result is always the same, her enthusiasm bubbling over—the familiar response comes like clockwork: “you told me this story yesterday, remember?” her words halt mid-sentence, her excitement deflating faster than it had filled her chest. “right, sorry, i forgot,” she mumbles, forcing a small, apologetic smile. they nod briefly before their attention flickers back to whatever was so captivating on their phone, leaving her silent, a sigh falling from her mouth instead of the words she wanted to share still lingering on her tongue, unspoken and heavy, even if it was a reoccurrence.

“sylus, you won't believe what happened to me today!” you exclaimed, bursting through the door with wide eyes and a glowing excitement that filled the room. “t-there was this cat—it meowed like a duck or something, it was so sooo adorable!” you squeaked, your voice pitching higher with enthusiasm. “but then i had to leave from break,” you sighed, pouting as you flopped dramatically onto the couch.

sylus glanced up from the news article he was reading, keyword—was. a sly smile crept onto his lips, usual mischief twinkling in his eyes. “oh, is that right, sweetie?" he teased, tilting his head with a mock-serious look. "you'll have to bring me along on your next mission so i can witness these mystical, duck-like cats for myself."

"deal," you grinned, your face lighting up as you giggled, completely unaware of how sylus's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a quiet admiration.. he'd play along every time, as many times as you needed, his heart melting just a little more with every recount. after all, he wasn't just listening to the story; he was basking in the warmth of your presence, content to play the part of your captivated audience forever.

♡ — adhd!reader who’s grown all too familiar with being ignored by others for most of her life, her excited tangents about a new interest for the day often trailing off into an uncomfortable silence, no response waiting at the end. she used to sit there, the realisation sinking in like a heavy stone—you’ve done it again, idiot—the naturally heard words blaring in her mind as if through a megaphone, shame and self-doubt rushing in like a wave. she’d turn back to her laptop, eyes lowered, the once-comforting cafe ambience now feeling like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to turn back to the task she was supposed to be completing, right, the reports..

sylus, ever the gentleman, makes his way to your side with practised ease, opening the door for you, his hand already outstretched to steady you as you carefully step out, mindful of the hovering dress that threatens to catch under your heels. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you playfully speak, “thank you, kind sir,” your voice light with amusement.

smirking, his eyes sparkling in the dim evening light. “anything for you, my sweet,” he replies with a wink, pulling your hand gently onto his arm. you gladly wrap your arms around his bicep, feeling the warmth of his strength under your fingers as you walk together, leaving the valet behind. the fine dining restaurant ahead glows softly in the night, a place you had casually mentioned to him just two nights ago as a date idea.

“but the duality of this bitch,” you huffed, voice full of frustration. “to talk behind my back like i was in the wrong. like, seriously? you cheat on your boyfriend, and then get mad when i don’t want to be friends with you anymore? oh, and i forgot to tell you—my friend, well ex-friend knew about it, she was hiding it from us the whole time!”

your words spilled out in a rush, the weekly gossip pouring faster than you could control. it wasn’t until you hit a pause in your tangent that it hit you—fuck, i did it again. you looked up at him, bracing yourself, searching his face for any sign of annoyance, for that familiar look people often gave you when you rambled too much. but instead, you found his hand gently stroking your bejewelled one—his gifts, of course—while his crimson eyes stayed locked on yours, soft and full of affection. not a trace of irritation.

just as you were about to apologise for going on too long, he beat you to it, his voice calm and sweet, “you’d think the hunters of linkon would act better. i was sorely mistaken.” his lips curled into a soft chuckle, eyes glinting playfully. “so… what did you say to her and your now ex-friend? you didn't finish.”

relief flooded through you. of course—he wanted to hear more. with his gentle smile urging you on, you dove back into the tale, feeling lighter, knowing you could share whatever you wanted to in this world with him without any thought whatsoever.

♡ — adhd!reader who accidentally interrupts her friends and family��she just can’t help it, really, she can’t. it’s the same scenario every time: friends are mid-conversation, talking about someone or something, and before she can stop herself, she’s chiming in too early, cutting them off without meaning to. they pause, giving that familiar look—half-surprised, half-apologetic or whatever it was. “ah, sorry,” she mutters, biting her lip to stay quiet. but it’s so hard. especially when they start talking about that café she just went to yesterday, mentioning the specific drink that was on sale—the very one you ordered. the words are right there, bubbling up in your chest, why was it so hard to keep quiet?

sylus strolls into the kitchen with a sly grin, “i’ve got a surprise for you tonight, kitten.” his arms wrap around you from behind as you focus on whipping up your favourite brownies—ones in the last batch that went mysteriously missing, thanks to the twins no doubt. you giggle, already used to this affectionate routine, as sylus leans in to inhale the scent of your perfume lingering on his shirt, one of his smaller ones that still manages to engulf you completely. “can I get a clue?” you ask, impressively keeping your attention on measuring the cocoa powder, despite his playful distraction.

“you’ll just have to wait and see sweetie,” sylus chuckles, shifting beside you but keeping an arm snugly around your waist, his warmth never leaving your side. “although i should probably tell you t—” sylus’s words were abruptly cut off by your excitement bursting through. “oooh, wait! is it that new cat café I was talking about a few days ago? the one that opens up at night?”

your excitement quickly deflated as you looked up at him, realizing you’d interrupted him—again. a familiar sinking feeling crept in, but before you could even apologise, you caught sylus’s expression. looking down at you, more love in his eyes than you ever thought possible, his smile soft and full of affection. “that’s actually what i’ve planned for us tomorrow, dear,” he smirked, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours. “but like i said, you’ll find out tonight. just make sure to wear that dress i got you.” your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his voice and the way he effortlessly brushed off your little interruption. you giggled softly, leaning into his touch as he gently squeezed your waist. “fine, but I’m holding you to that cat café date,” you teased, already imagining the sweet night ahead.

[theminecraftbee]

fae zedaph, avian tango, and/or butterfly impulse?

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes in. He breathes out. He looks at Zedaph.

"Okay. Why do you have a baby," Tango says.

"Well, it was an accident!" Zedaph says.

"How! How do you accidentally end up with a baby!" Tango says. He pauses. He considers what he has just said. He revises: "How do you or I accidentally end up with a baby! I am a robot and you are an immortal fairy creature. You can't babyificate. I know. You've checked."

"You don't have to sound so haunted," Zedaph says, vaguely hurt.

"I am very haunted by most of what you do, that's not the point. How did you end up with a baby! I can't take care of a baby, Zedaph! You definitely can't take care of a baby! What are we going to do with a baby?"

Zedaph shuffles his feet. When they'd first met, Tango had been reluctantly impressed with how human Zedaph's mannerisms were for a guy who, at that time, still hadn't been entirely certain you weren't supposed to eat people who were rude to you. He's come a long way since Tango had discovered he was just alive enough to be able to accidentally slip into the feywild, and Zedaph discovered he was actually much happier experimenting in the human world most of the time than dealing with other fair folk and their 'predictable rules' and 'annoying laws of hospitality'.

If Tango wasn't mostly made of steel and cold iron, he probably wouldn't have survived the early encounters with Zedaph. Nowadays, though, it's easy to mistake Zedaph for just an exceptionally weird human. Sure, he still looks at everyone a little bit like they're more of an experiment or strange animal than a person, but that's just Zedaph. Even if he were human, Tango's pretty sure he'd follow his own idiosyncratic laws.

None of this explains why he has a baby.

"Okay, look, it's not my fault this time, I swear," Zedaph says. "It's--look, I was in-town, and there was this guy, and he made a bargain with me! It was a very little bargain! I didn't think he'd break it. Honest! He just wanted gold--"

"Oh no," mutters Tango.

"--and I just told him that I wanted him to take care of a sheep for me without looking at it! I wanted to see what would happen if a sheep grew up without anyone looking at it. Would it want to look at other people more or less? You know my problems with sheep and looking at me."

"I hate that I know where this is going," Tango says.

"And he was all like, oh that's easy, I won't break that bargain. And I remembered what you said about how most people don't like having their babies swapped out with fey, which still doesn't really make sense honestly because I think a baby me is WAY more exciting than a baby human to take care of and also then I can experiment with the baby human but that's not the point. The point is that you said most people would avoid that! So I said, okay, if you break our bargain and look at the sheep, I'll come take your first baby. It's a traditional fey thing! I thought he wouldn't do it! I don't want a baby, I want a traumatized sheep!"

"Sometimes I wonder if my inventor knew my life would end up like this," Tango says.

"So imagine my shock when one day I just--poof--I have a baby!"

"I don't know how to take care of a baby," Tango says. "You absolutely shouldn't be trusted with a baby. What do we do with a baby."

The two of them look at the child.

"I mean, I cast a spell on it so it would sleep?" Zedaph says tentatively. "But to be totally honest with you, I don't actually know how long those last. You know how it is with my magic."

"I have decided this is Impulse's problem," Tango responds after a moment. "We give the baby to Impulse. He's a human. Humans know what to do with babies, right?"

Zedaph gives Tango an extremely skeptical look. "I got this one from a human."

"Impulse will suffer with us," Tango says.

"Sold," Zedaph says. "Let's go give Impulse a surprise baby."

"Please don't phrase it like that," Tango says, and they both start heading in the direction of where Tango thinks Impulse is currently living. Surely, he has the solution to this problem. Surely.

[prosciuttoon]

Toshiro/Shuro is overhated

(mirror of my thread on twitter)

ever wanted to talk abt something so bad but u have so many thoughts so u cant even begin to organize a sentence. thats me abt shuro and its why i cant give my thoughts on him. i NEED to get this out of my system bc its takign up so much memory in my brain i need that space for thinking.

so i was really surprised to find so much hate for him even tho he seems pretty normal and rational out of the whole cast. ive deducted that its mostly abt his laios fight and that the ppl who hate him probably had bad experiences w social cues and relationships w neurotypicals bc of that. theres no way to avoid it bc its pretty much Right In Your Face that laios is ND. but thats not the only factor in why their relationship is rocky. its also the culture barrier. u have to understand toshiro was raised as JAPANESE NOBILITY ofc he would be a little conservative

also culture shock. idk if u know this but jp culture is very Mind Your Own Business like a lot of other asian cultures . ofc hes gonna be weirded out by a stranger invading his space. also his names not even Shuro. its just yt ppl not pronouncing his name right and settling for whats easiest.

img src: fan translation by savaralyn2 , i think its from the adventurers bible Complete Edition bc i dont remember it in the old one

ok you get the gist of the culture aspect of it. lets go into the ND/NT clash aspect of it. yes i understand its pretty hurtful to never be told when youre acting inappropriately. i am autistic too lmao. but you have to understand that shiro is one guy and he even does realize that repressing things is one of his fatal flaws. again. asian culture. non confrontational. that sorta thing. but these are genuine frustrations. if i were him id be annoyed too but id speak out about it. set boundaries. bc im blunt. shiros not. he was taught crazy strict manners (hierarchies, respect, politeness, etc).

his problem isnt ableism its a culmination of culture barriers, how he was raised to behave, and terrible lack of communication as thing caused by "all of the above" plus he just generally keeps to himself a lot which means repressing frustrations that will explode leading to a pathetic fistfight while hes starved, exhausted, and dehydrated. also. if he was ableist he would hate laios. he doesnt hate laios. at the end of the day, they are friends. NT and ND ppl can be friends u know. there will be rifts (like their fight) but you just have to communicate misunderstandings. theyre gonna be fine lol

anyways that was my whole spiel abt it. i think i got everything out that i wanted to? my head still feels a little full so i may add more later when i remember something

also i think its a little unfair to rule out the possibility of laios and him just being 2 very different kinds of ND bc its very common for misunderstandings to occur even then. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT BUT WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER! but for the sake of interpreting the Fight as a commentary on NT social rules and ND frustration, ill say toshiros NT. will we ever know? hes so far in the sidelines... youd really have to dig in the extra content to see the intricacies of his character.... please give him a chance

[uraichievents]

UraIchi Week 2024

Monday, July 1st, 2024 - Sunday, July 7th, 2024

AO3 Collection

Full Prompts List Submitted This Year

(Click images to enlarge. Alt text under the cut.)

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically, as lovers or friends or even enemies, so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

UraIchi Week is hosted here on Tumblr and on AO3. For posts on Tumblr, remember to ping @uraichievents and tag #UraIchi Week 2024. For AO3, you can add your work(s) to the collection linked up above. You are also welcome to join the UraIchi Discord server if you haven’t already and come and talk about what you’re working on!

Themes:

July 1st, Day 1: i've met you before / i'll meet you again / this is the first time we've met.. right?

Time Travel / Dimension Travel

Identity Porn / Hidden Identities

“I've suffered from traumatic dreams of my past lives since I was a child, and I'm just now realizing that coming up to a beautiful stranger who looks like someone I've seen die a thousand times in a thousand different ways at a bar and asking if we've met before sounds a lot like a come-on haha no wait come back that doesn't mean I'm not desperately attracted to you please kiss me again” AU

July 2nd, Day 2: It's fact that killable problems are not real problems.

Murder Husbands

Ichigo is Deadpool / unbreakable / any other accidentally immortal being who is really kind of annoyed about it (because it’s boring, and he’s still young enough to be within his lifespan, but it sure takes the fun out of fighting).

All the times Ichigo died, he ACTUALLY died, he just came back. Every time he comes back, he comes back Wronger.

July 3rd, Day 3: Things I Should've Told You / Things I Don't Tell Anyone Else

The skeletons in your closet are about to overflow. Would you like me to tidy it up?

Ichigo is experimenting with self-expression, a hobby, etc., making up for lost time as a regular teenager. Urahara is always the first one (sometimes only one) to see or hear about a new idea.

“The person I trust most is you.”

July 4th, Day 4: Sword and Shield

I am yours to command, use me as you please.

Shiba!Ichigo and Second Division!Kisuke

Summoner/Mage AU: Paired summons who are good apart but unmatched together.

July 5th, Day 5: That One is Mine

Hollow Instincts / Feral Protective

Possessive!Kisuke: He stepped aside for Sui-Feng because Yoruichi was always master first and friend second and love interest never, and because Yoruichi wanted her in a way she's never wanted him. But Ichigo is different, and everyone soon realizes that when Kisuke truly wants something, he always gets it in the end.

“Death can’t have you. You’re mine.”

July 6th, Day 6: Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, some are made, and some decide being a monster's pretty fucking cool.

Visored!Urahara Kisuke AU / Vasto Lorde!Kurosaki Ichigo AU

“Ichigo forges a friendship with his Hollow in the Shattered Shaft” AU

vs. Gotei 13 AU: Ichigo time travels back from a future where he was chained to the throne as the next Soul King by the Shinigami.

July 7th, Day 7: Creator’s Choice!

As always, the above prompts are all optional, and you’re free to come with your own ideas. You can also find an excel sheet with all the prompts submitted this year linked up above, so feel free to look through that if you want, and you can also make a copy for yourself.

And that’s it! We’re looking forward to what everyone comes up with!

[niningtori]

let me into your world | chapter one: my world is mine

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you're a hopeless romantic waiting for your soulmate, but what do you do when you finally find him and he doesn't want you?

genre(s): romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?), soulmate au

word count: 7.1k

notes: for some reason, i feel SO embarrassed to post this. it was the first series i ever wrote, so it's getting a facelift before seeing the light of day, but it's still a little flabby in some places. bear with me, please! also, shoutout to evie for this layout with the lyrics in the center :') i'm tired of looking at my own uglyass posts so much omg. see ending for more notes!

your soulmate is perfect in every way, or so you've been told, and you're sick of waiting to find out. everyone says meeting your soulmate is like finding the other half you never had, so when the yearning had started when you were a teen, you were eager to find him and put an end to your constant ache. it would be impossible to know who it was until your seal appeared on your skin. where it would land and what it would look like, you weren't sure, but you knew it couldn't come fast enough. in theory, he would complement you in every way. you imagine someone quiet, a little shy, maybe. someone thoughtful, someone patient and understanding. you just hope to god he's everything you wish him to be.

-

beomgyu has had just about enough of soulmate talk, but unfortunately for him, it's inescapable. when he turned 13, the yearning had already started for most of his peers. when his friends asked if he felt similarly, he simply shrugged his shoulders with a smug little grin while musing that he might not even have a soulmate — maybe he was just partnerless. some of his friends, like taehyun and kai, were appalled by this, almost pitying him. half of his heart was missing, after all. some of his other friends, however, were a bit jealous. their reasoning was "it'd be nice to not be chained down by someone you don't even know". he agreed with the latter sentiment, having seen the effects of being chained to somebody firsthand.

he remembers watching his mother wither away. she had loved his father more than anyone, even him, and got scraps of affection in return. they weren't soulmates — her perfect other half had died not long after she met him, but his father became her second and last love. he didn't concern himself with soulmate talk and eventually married beomgyu's mother. they were happy, very happy, until beomgyu was around 10 and his father met his so-called soulmate. he remembers the sheer despair on his mother's face as she found out her husband was leaving seemingly out of nowhere, her life uprooted because of a fucking pattern imprinted on her lover's skin.

they weren't soulmates, but beomgyu watched his mother die a little every day until she finally passed. dying of a broken heart was the only way he could explain what happened to her, and she did all that for a man who wasn't even her soulmate. if soulmates could make you kill someone innocent for your love, he didn't want to find his at all. if love could make you abandon everything you've ever known, well, he simply didn't want to know what it felt like.

-

college is a turning point for you, you feel. you had a good time in high school, but you're nearing the average age of the seal and you're more than prepared to find your special someone. you couldn't know for sure, but you have a feeling none of the boys in your high school were your other half.

"why don't you date just to get some experience?" sumin asks somewhat exasperatedly. you had rejected yet another guy with seemingly good intentions for practically no reason.

"i don't know, i guess i just don't want to waste my time on anybody else when i already know my soulmate is out there waiting on me," you shrug. "i want to save all my firsts for him."

"you're hopeless, you know?" she snorts.

"yeah," you smile, "but he's probably the same way." she teases you good-naturedly for this, but even she agrees that you'll most likely fall for a guy just as hopelessly in love as you are. he wouldn't even have to try very hard — you're willing to put in however much effort it takes to find him and love him unconditionally. all he needs to do is reciprocate and you would do the rest.

-

unfortunately for you, time has passed and you're nearing the end of your time in college with no soulmate in sight. you'd be more upset about it if you weren't so fucking busy with school work and trying to line up a job post-graduation. you're so wound up lately that sumin practically forces you to let loose and go to a house party. needless to say, they aren't particularly your scene. you like to drink just as much as anybody else does, you guess, but that doesn't mean you want to reek of shitty beer, sweat, and premarital sex, which will undoubtedly be the case once you step into a college house party. still, she is as persistent as you are exhausted and you're too defeated to fight.

you're fairly bored after fifteen minutes or so of loitering around all the action, never really joining in on the antics of your friends and all the other party goers unless you absolutely have to. you're absentmindedly kicking around a beer can when it rolls away, straight in front of a couch. you go to kick it again when you look up and see him.

you can't keep your eyes off of him. you've found people attractive before, but he's probably the most beautiful person — maybe even the most beautiful thing — you've ever seen. your heart almost stops when you look at him.

in that moment, the idea that he could be the one blooms in your head and you can't help but stare. you don't how long you keep your eyes locked on him, but he eventually looks up at you and his eyes widen for a split second. you're almost positive he feels what you feel, but not even a moment later, he pulls out what you can only describe as a lascivious smirk as his eyes travel up and down your figure. you feel like meat on display rather than his sacred other half. before you know it, a girl is sliding into his lap and he's turning away from you and planting a heavy kiss on her glossy lips while groping her ass.

"that's beomgyu," sumin says and you're snapped back into reality. "he's really hot, but he's slept with pretty much every girl here."

you're somewhat disappointed before you realize you must be mistaken. there's no way a man like that could be your soulmate. you strangle the bud of hope in your heart mercilessly because your soulmate is somewhere waiting for you and you can't afford to lose him over some pretty boy with community dick.

-

you said you'd avoid him, but beomgyu is the first one you notice when you walk into the first class of your final semester as a college student. his eyes lock with yours and you hurriedly avert your gaze before sliding into the nearest seat.

"hi," a sweet voice from next to you says. you jolt and turn to look at him.

"sorry, i didn't mean to scare you," he laughs.

"it's okay, i'm just a little jumpy, i guess," you grin sheepishly.

"i'm soobin," he smiles and you can see his dimples come out. you briefly wonder if he'd mind if you poked them, but that sounds weird even to you.

you introduce yourself and find you're forgetting all about beomgyu as you and soobin begin to chat. he's funny in a dorky kind of way, and you can't help but giggle at the seemingly unassuming things he says.

-

beomgyu notices you when you first walk in because of course he does, but he sees you sit next to soobin, a guy he met in freshman year, and feels a sense of loss he's never felt before. he watches as you grin and giggle at whatever lame jokes the boy next to you is almost certainly making and his eyes darken. yeonjun, his longtime friend and desk mate, notices his sour mood and asks what's wrong. beomgyu can't really answer that question. even he himself doesn't know why he feels so against you, a stranger, spending time with another guy, but he chalks it up to the fact that he thinks you're hot and would very much like to get in your pants as soon as possible.

he supposes he should have done so when he first saw you, but duty called when one of his frequent flyers sat in his lap and he couldn't very well ignore the way her chest swayed in front of him. he doesn't think about it much more deeply than that. he doesn't want to think about how your eyes seem to indicate that you know him — have known him — and he feels the same way about you. he toys with the idea of maybe asking you if you two knew each other at some point, but deep down, he knows he'd never forget you if he actually had known you before. he tries not to think about why that is.

-

a few weeks into the semester, you've sat next to soobin every day and it's safe to say you have a tiny little crush on him, but you know he's not your soulmate when he rolls his sleeves up one day and you spot a green seal on his wrist. you roll up your own sweater, just to be sure, but there's no pretty green tattoo to match. he spots your empty wrist and the expression on his face looks an awful lot like disappointment.

"i don't really care about that stuff, you know?" he whispers as your professor drones on and on about something you've stopped listening to long ago.

"really?" you ask a little too eagerly before reining yourself back in. what are you doing? you have a soulmate and he's waiting for you.

"really, really," he smiles. you prepare to launch into a long speech about the sanctity of soulmates and how you're waiting devoutly for yours, but instead of pushing the subject any further, he simply turns to the professor again and you're left reeling.

you're pulled back to your senses when the professor announces everyone will be paired up with a partner for an assignment. you and soobin grin at each other and are ready to begin prepping for the project when your professor adds that the partners will be completely random. when he calls soobin's name, your fingers are crossed in hopes that you'll somehow still get lucky, but he ends up pairing him with another classmate named yeonjun. you start getting a sinking feeling, something akin to dread, and you don't know why. clarity overwhelms you when you register that the person your professor opts to pair you with is none other than choi beomgyu.

-

beomgyu is late to your first library appointment together and though you didn't expect anything less from him, you're still annoyed when he arrives nearly 15 minutes after the scheduled time with nothing but a mumbled "sorry" and a cheeky grin.

"it's fine," you offer, but you both know you're irritated. you're a little bit of a pushover by nature and it's like he could immediately sniff it out. he doesn't even make an attempt to seem like he cares, though.

"are you ready to get started?" you ask.

"of course, what are you waiting for?" you roll your eyes at his shamelessness, frustration melting away without you intending for it to. you're kind of shy, but his presence is so comforting, it's like you've known him for years, so you dare to say your next words without much thought.

"you, smartass." he looks a little appalled at your words but he registers it as a joke when he notices the corner of your lips struggling not to pull themselves up, eyes gazing mischievously from beneath your eyelashes. not for the first time, he thinks you're really pretty. but he, not for the first time, says nothing.

-

after a few meet ups, you realize being with beomgyu is easier than you thought it would be. sure, he's incredibly obnoxious, but he's surprisingly easy to talk to. he invites you to his apartment one day and, as if he senses your apprehension before you can even feel it yourself, he states his roommate will be there as well. you try not to read too much into it, but you have a feeling he's implying that he won't make any moves on you. you're grateful for this, but unexpectedly a bit disappointed. as for why that is, you don't venture to guess.

being in his apartment is a new feeling entirely. it feels oddly... intimate somehow when you enter his bedroom and see all of his posters, his messy bed, and some vinyls stacked up against his record player. he nonchalantly puts one on and you gasp when you recognize the song.

"i love this band," you say quickly. his eyebrows raise in interest.

"you like them too?"

"of course i do! i've loved them since i was a teenager," you laugh.

"do you like their newer stuff?"

you wrinkle your nose a little bit at this, your answer evident. he laughs his signature squeaky laugh at this and you can't help but stare in awe at his dimples, like whiskers, appearing on his cheeks. you clear your throat awkwardly and begin to talk about the project.

after a few hours and some really great progress, you find you're a little hungry. you're about to mention this, but beomgyu beats you to the punch.

"i'm starving. want pizza?" you smile when you realize you're on the exact same page.

"thought you'd never ask."

-

you're sitting on his couch now, wolfing down your third piece of pizza while beomgyu slurps the cheese off of his. he's talking about absolutely nothing, but he's still easily drawing more and more laughter out of you with his antics. you tell him to stop because you hate your laugh, but he's addicted to the sound. he wants to keep you laughing. words like "always" and "forever" briefly flicker across his mind, and usually he would force them out with conviction, but he's having such a good time hearing you giggle he can't pay attention to much else. he never says it or gives any indication he feels that way, though. he just tells you "i can't help that i'm so fucking funny and charming and beautiful." you lightly smack the back of his head and he's giggling with you.

things are going remarkably well when his roommate emerges from his room and says a few of his friends will be coming over soon. you don't particularly want to hang around them and you certainly don't want to overstay your welcome, but beomgyu, for reasons unknown, insists that you stick around.

"we can just relax for a bit then get back to work. c'mon, don't you wanna finish this thing?"

"fine, fine, fine. i'll stay." his face lights up at your words and you can't help but blush a little bit at this. why he's so excited, you have no clue. what you also don't know is he has no idea why he's so excited, either.

a few minutes later, a few guys enter the apartment boisterously and you can't help but internally regret sticking around. beomgyu, almost preternaturally, senses how uncomfortable you are and makes an effort to introduce you and include you in conversation. things are going well until one of the guys, whose name you don't know but whose face seems vaguely familiar, makes an offhanded comment.

"y'know, gyu, she's actually very smart. maybe you'll actually pass." the entire group bursts into laughter and joke about his supposed stupidity and laziness.

"he's actually very helpful. i couldn't do this without him," you counter with a little edge to your voice.

"maybe you're not deadweight after all," he says sarcastically. beomgyu just smirks and goes along with it. to the untrained eye, he seems perfectly fine, but to you, he just looks kind of sad. you pull out your phone and decide to text him.

you don't have to laugh if you don't think it's funny

he looks up at you and you nod encouragingly.

it's fine i really am kinda dumb

don't say things you don't mean. you're not their dancing monkey here to entertain them and you're not a fucking punching bag

his heart feels a little sour at this. how did you know he was hurt by their comments, no matter how seemingly harmless they were? even his own friends didn't seem to notice, but somehow, you did. you always seem to notice the little changes within him. like when he's tired and doesn't want to show it, you offer to take breaks or meet another day. or when he's stressed out so you try to wrangle even the smallest of smiles out of him — real ones, that is. he wants to say you're just a thoughtful and perceptive person, but in reality, he thinks it's a little more complicated than that.

-

it's beomgyu's birthday, which should be a happy occasion, but for some reason, you feel like shit. you wonder if it's a mix of anxiety because of the project or maybe because your time in college is coming to the end, but it feels so much more profound than that. you woke up this morning from a fitful sleep and it feels like there's a hole blown through your heart. if you feel like shit, you don't look much better, but you have to meet with beomgyu at his apartment and you can't be late.

"whoa, you look absolutely awful," he muses when he opens the door and sees you with two appalling dark circles under your eyes.

"wow, thanks, asshole," you mumble. you did, indeed, look and feel like utter shit, but being here seems to bring a sense of relief you did not anticipate.

"hey, i'm just kidding, you look pretty," he laughs. he's been saying things like this, lately. you can't deny the way your heart skips a beat, but you shoot down any further thoughts because you know, know, know he sleeps around and you know that seemingly off-the-cuff comments like this are probably part of the reason why he's able to do so as easily as he does. you're not to be trifled with, though, so instead of letting the comment fly off your back as you usually would, your mouth opens before you know it.

"not as pretty as you, beoms," you smirk. you don't know exactly what you expected, but his ears turning a rosy pink isn't it.

"o-okay," he says sheepishly, clearing his throat. you find him criminally endearing in this moment, and for once, you don't mentally slap yourself for it.

"oh yeah. happy birthday!" you say, pulling out a cupcake and decisively putting an end to the awkwardness.

"thanks," he says with a smile before eyeing you suspiciously. "is this poisoned?"

"give it back," you say monotonously and he giggles when you try to snatch it away from him.

"hey, i'm just kidding! thank you!" he says as he takes a bite and his eyes widen in surprise.

"mmm, how'd you know this flavor's my favorite?"

"i dunno, i didn't. i just kinda figured you'd like it," you shrug. you walk towards his coffee table, which is where you all have been working lately, and again he's plagued with the idea that you know him far more deeply than you should.

working with beomgyu usually goes smoothly, but you're exhausted. you're still incredibly sad for no reason, but being with him makes you feel less... empty? you would try to put a name to the feeling, but you're too tired to do so at the moment.

"want some coffee?" he asks as he watches you yawn for the umpteenth time since you've been here.

"please," you say sleepily. he smiles and gets up from the floor as you bury your head in your hands.

beomgyu has been in a relatively good mood since you've been here, and not just because it's his birthday. he can't explain why, but his mouth has pretty much been etched into a curve ever since you got here. he catches a glimpse of his smiling face in the mirror of his living room before opting to fix his hair a little, mindful of how he looks in front of you. when he does this, he feels a rough patch of skin behind his right ear. he's confused when he runs his fingers over it and feels grooves and lines where there shouldn't be.

he quickly pulls out his phone and takes a picture. what he sees horrifies him. a seal. it's pink and delicate, but has a complicated pattern he couldn't even begin to replicate. the day he's been dreading for years has finally come. he stares at the picture before shaking his head and ruffling his hair to cover it again. no. this changes nothing. he won't let this ruin his day — his life.

he moves to the kitchen and begins to prepare your coffee. when he reenters the living room, he hears you lightly snoring with your head resting on the coffee table. he smiles in spite of himself and places the coffee down. he wants to say you look peaceful, but your eyebrows are furrowed like there's something you can't quite figure out.

he chuckles softly to himself before subconsciously pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. that's when he sees it. pink like a blooming flower and as complicated in its pattern as the one on his head. he hurriedly pulls his phone out and compares the picture of his seal to the one behind your ear. he already knows, but he has to be completely sure. he's not surprised in the slightest when he comes to the conclusion that they are, indeed, the same.

-

when you awaken, you feel a pit in your stomach and you're genuinely on the verge of tears. someone would think you'd had a nightmare, but you hadn't. you're stuck in a whirlwind of emotions when you're snapped away from them by a soft baritone voice.

"you awake?" beomgyu asks.

"shit, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, wiping the drool off of your face and straightening up your hair. "how long has it been?"

"i dunno, an hour or two?" he says nonchalantly. you sense some resentment in his tone and you feel beyond apologetic.

"god, i'm so sorry. let's just finish this really quick and i'll get going. i'm sure you want to be done with this and celebrate your birthday," you say embarrassedly.

"i already finished it," he says, and even through your sleepiness, you feel his disdain.

"you... finished it? alone?"

"why? do you think i'm not capable of doing it by myself?"

"no! not at all! i just feel bad that you had to do it alone," you exclaim.

"well, it's done. so you can leave now," he says, not without urgency.

"leave? but i —" but what? but i wanted to spend more time with you? that doesn't sound right, but that's what you feel.

"you can leave now," he repeats with disgust that you can't quite understand.

"o-okay. i'll get my stuff and go, but shouldn't we review everything together just in case?"

"i have plans, so no," he says firmly. you have no idea why he's so angry. you want to say it's because he had to finish the project alone while you were knocked out and drooling on his coffee table, but it feels much deeper than that.

"thanks for finishing everything. again, i'm so sorry," you say as you gather your things and head for the door. beomgyu is ready to shut the door behind you when you look back to him and softly say "happy birthday, beoms." and the door slams shut.

-

when you get home, the first thing you do is cry. the pain in your heart is suffocating. you so badly want to know what it is that's causing this seemingly out of nowhere pain, but you can't put your finger on it to save your life. you decide to shower and have another good cry. after you shower, you look in the mirror as you twist your hair up in a towel. your fingertips rub against a rough patch behind your ear when you do so and you're stunned before you register what it is. you take a picture to get a better look at it, but you already kinda know what to expect: a seal.

it's more beautiful than you imagined it'd be, but instead of joy, all you feel is dread. but why? a seal is a happy thing. you should feel relieved to finally have it on you and he should, too. you ponder over this and come to the conclusion that it's not your pain you're feeling, but your soulmate's. you've heard about soulmates feeling each other's emotions before, though it was somewhat rare. the question is: why is he so sad? you don't know how, but you instinctively know it has to do with the seal appearing and it makes you drop to the bathroom floor in tears. this isn't how you wanted it to be. you clutch your chest, willing your heart to stop pounding so hard, but it doesn't.

-

beomgyu has been avoiding you, that much is clear. as to why that is, you have no idea. he used to greet you and strike up conversation, project be damned. you want to think about this more, but the depression you feel makes it hard to think clearly about, well, anything, really. you feel an emptiness you've never known before, and you can't help but feel like being with him would make it better. in a way, you're glad he finished the project alone because you're sure you wouldn't have been able to be much help at all.

when you walk into the class you share, his absence puts you at a loss you don't understand. you remember that soobin is yeonjun's partner and ask him if he knows anything about beomgyu's whereabouts. he shakes his head.

"i don't know the details, but yeonjun said he's been bummed ever since he got his seal."  ever since he got his seal? that means he must have gotten it recently, just like you. the cogs in your brain start to turn and you feel the dread in your stomach again.

"why?” you ask tentatively. 

"i dunno. i think he might not like his soulmate, but he won't talk about it any more than that," he shrugs. "hey, are you okay?"

you nod before touching the seal behind your ear. you feel another pang in your heart. what if... what if he has the same seal? what if... beomgyu is your soulmate?

-

after class, you practically sprint out of the room and to beomgyu's apartment. you pound on his door impatiently and when he doesn't answer, you pound even louder.

"what are you doing here?" he hisses when he swings the door open. you flinch a little, but you're determined to get some answers. you falter when you notice a girl, haphazardly dressed, appearing from behind him.

"who's this, beomie?" she says, voice silky smooth.

"kick rocks," he says simply. she shrugs and makes her way past you while fiddling with her clothes. you don't have to guess what they just got finished doing, and it hurts, hurts, hurts.

"who's that?" you say, eyes glassy.

"what are you doing here?" he asks again, actually a little embarrassed, but never showing an ounce of it. you storm into his apartment and he shuts the door behind you.

"show me your seal," you say determinedly.

"what? no," he answers defensively.

you reach for his long hair to lightly tuck it behind his pierced ears. he wants to stop you, but he can't bear the thought of batting away your hand. he hears you inhale a sharp breath as you see the pink seal behind his ear and he feels his chest becoming heavier and heavier.

"how long have you known?"

"since my birthday," he answers after a slight pause.

"and when were you gonna tell me?"

"probably never," he says truthfully. your hand drops to your side and he subconsciously misses the way your touch felt.

"why?"

"because... because i don't want a soulmate."

"what's so bad about me?" you ask as your lips tremble.

"it's not just you," he sighs. "i've never wanted a soulmate."

"then what's so bad about soulmates?"

"i just don't want one and you can't make me," he snaps and you wince, so he tries again. "look, you're a nice girl and everything, but it's never gonna happen between us, so you need to stop trying."

"even without the seal, i'd still have feelings for you. that's how much you mean to me." he looks a little taken aback by this, as if he never expected to hear those words from you or anyone, really, and it makes your heart ache. "can't you just give me a chance?" you look so earnest right now, but he's almost sadistically dedicated to squashing the sprout of hope that is almost certainly peeking out of you right now.

"no, i can't. you're not my type at all. if we weren't soulmates i'd never even look at you." he's lying but if he's not cruel now, he knows you'll never let go.

"but we are soulmates and you are looking at me right now."

"for god's sake, you're not hearing what i'm saying. i will never love you, alright? i tried to be nice about it but you keep pushing me. you look fucking pathetic right now."

your frown deepens, eyes reddened and hot. as a last ditch effort, you hurriedly say your next words.

"i can feel your pain," you whisper and his eyes widen. "i know you feel it every day. i know you're empty and you need somebody — why can't i be that person? i-i'll be whatever you need me to be." you've taken your heart and served it on a silver platter. all he has to do is hold it.

"because you're not what i need! you're not even what i want!"

the silence that follows will haunt him for the rest of his life. you look so small right now, so fragile. he almost wants to take everything back, but he remembers what soulmates mean and what they can do to a person. he looks at how vulnerable you are, how your heart is bleeding in front of him and how easily he can and will break it. he never wants to give anyone that power over him. no fucking way.

"i can feel your pain," you try again, and before he can reply you continue. "can you at least feel mine?" you look absolutely devastated with your eyebrows furrowed pleadingly, sobs racking your body. you look like you're going to be sick.

"i can't and i don't wanna," he answers flippantly with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "that's how much you mean to me." he knows exactly what to say and how to say it, the way only somebody who really knows you ever can. it's the final nail in the coffin for you. you will lock your heart for him in it and bury it as deep as it'll go.

"i've been waiting for you, you know? always. always." your eyes trail down to his hastily thrown on shirt and hickeys adorning his neck. at this, his jaw clenches and his eyes actually close in shame. you're not sure where your pain ends and his begins, but for the first time, you don't really care. a burning rage fills your heart and your dignity demands to be taken seriously for the first time. you're a doormat, sure, but you won't be anymore. not for him, anyway.

"i don't want to see you anymore. don't you ever fucking talk to me again," you finish and with a spin on your heel you're sprinting towards the door.

-

you are true to your word. when you walk into class after the entire debacle, you don't even spare him a glance. even if you can feel his gaze on you, you remain perfectly unfazed. he asked for this, he thinks. it's the way it should be. still, nothing really consoles him when he sees how tired you look. he can't feel your pain, but he can very well see it, and he wishes he could take it away. he regrets what he said to you, but he knows you'd never give up if he had given you even a sliver of a way out.

you're a good girl, though. a lot of people will come your way if you'll just let them. he feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about what they'll be like. he doesn't like to imagine it very much, but his thoughts wander that way more than he'd like to admit. he can't fathom anyone being good enough for you, really. especially not him.

do you feel the way he hates himself for the way he has to treat you? he doesn't know for sure, but he's pretty convinced when he sees you put your head in your hands, shoulders shaking. soobin quietly asks if you're alright before you bolt out of the room.

-

it's an end of the year house party thrown by soobin's new friend and former project partner, yeonjun. you truly, honest to god, do not want to go, but sumin really wants you to and you feel guilty because you're unsure when you'll see her again after graduation.

you sit almost catatonically as she does your hair and makeup, dressing you as if you're some kind of doll. when she's finished playing dress-up, you have to give credit where it's due. you look like a new person, but you can still feel the rotten old you underneath the shiny veneer, and it doesn't feel very good at all.

you're sitting in a circle, passing a blunt around when someone mentions him. it's innocuous enough, but you still flinch when you hear it. they joke about how he's probably upstairs getting his dick wet with some exchange student who's only here for a semester. you don't think that's true, if only because you can feel the pull and it feels so fucking lonely and isolated there can't possibly be anyone else around him, but it still hurts to hear all the same.

sumin gets blackout drunk fairly quickly, which is nothing new. what is new, however, is how you match her shot for shot and chug for chug. you know in your head that you should stop, but your heart keeps telling you to drown it, drown it, drown it until you can't feel the pull anymore. so you do.

-

"my god, you're drunk!" yeonjun exclaims when you're literally about to fall over and bust your head open.

"i'm not drunk, you're drunk!" you hiccup. he almost laughs before he sees you grip your stomach and gag. he thinks it's the alcohol, but in reality, you feel the loneliness beomgyu felt dissipating and you can only imagine what he's doing to cope. fuck, you didn't want to feel this.

"c'mon, girl. don't throw up here. let's go to the bathroom." he leads you up the stairs into some shitty bathroom that doesn't even have toilet paper. you kneel in front of the toilet and let yourself go, tears marring your carefully crafted makeup.

yeonjun gently grabs your loose hair and twists it into a makeshift ponytail. when he sweeps the last few strands from behind your ears, he sees it. all pretty and pink, ornate but unassuming. the seal you share with beomgyu.

"oh fuck," he says simply. you're drunk, too drunk, but even you know what he means.

"don't... don't look at it," you hiccup as a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks. "i want it gone," you whine, futilely scraping at it with your fingernails. in your head, you know it won't do anything. seals are permanent and even a tattoo couldn't cover it — it'd just resurface. in your aching heart, though, the thought of having beomgyu's matching seal makes you sick and you're willing to do almost anything to get it off of you.

"what the fuck is going on here?" a voice you'd recognize from anywhere emerges from the bathroom doorway. soobin. "what happened to you?!"

he's kneeling down to your level and wiping the mascara from under your eyes. yeonjun is still holding your hair back, so it's only a matter of time before the seal catches soobin's eye. it takes him a second to place where exactly he's seen it before, but once he does he murmurs a simple "oh shit."

you'd laugh at the similar reactions from the two boys if you felt anything other than misery at the moment. soobin grabs a rag from god knows where and wets it to tenderly brush around your lips. yeonjun tactfully lets go of your hair and escapes from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. you sit in silence.

"you know, this is a really bad time," he begins awkwardly, "but i want to remind you that the seal stuff doesn't matter to me. i know it matters to you right now, and that's okay, but it doesn't have to be that way forever." it takes you a minute to really process what he's saying and understand the implication behind his words. once you finally do, you're shocked to say the very least.

"do you still like me when i'm like this?" you say, mouth agape, tongue still heavy from the vomit.

"i do," he replies simply.

"really?"

"really, really."

-

beomgyu knew you felt his pain as soon as you said it, but he didn't know to what extent until he hears you sobbing in the bathroom. the walls are paper thin and you're not exactly quiet, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't straining his ears to ensure he's catching every word. and catch every word he does — even the ones you exchange with soobin — the ones that pierce his heart, and yours, apparently, because you wail when you feel it.

-

being with soobin is simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing you've ever done. he starts off slowly, as if he's afraid to break you even more than you're already broken. he's patient with you even when you're sad about a certain somebody, and never makes you feel guilty for it.

when you're bawling your eyes out one night and cancel your plans with him, you're surprised to hear a knock on your apartment door, anyway. you look through the peephole and see a familiar figure with a smile on his face. you hurriedly wipe the mascara from under your eyes and pull your hood up to cover your fucked up hair.

"what are you doing here?" you ask once you open the door.

"i was just in the neighborhood and thought you might want some ice cream," he says simply.

you snort. the "neighborhood" in question is a good 20 minutes from his apartment, but you don't ask any questions for fear that he might actually leave.

and so you sit on the living room floor with a movie playing in the background as white noise. you forgo the formalities and both of you are digging into a, frankly, alarmingly large tub of ice cream with nothing but two spoons. he pokes your reddened nose when you eventually start to drift off into space and remember your soulmate doesn't want you. he doesn't ask any questions, either. just boops your nose and you're back to reality and giggling at his childishness.

being with soobin is so easy, so comforting, that when he eventually asks you to be his girlfriend, you say yes.

-

on graduation day, beomgyu feels an excitement he sincerely did not anticipate. sure, he was happy to graduate, but he had no idea he'd be fucking elated. he has no clue why he's so ridiculously excited when he's honestly not even sure what he'll do after college, but when your name is called to collect your diploma and his heart is racing so fast he feels like it might explode, beomgyu comes to a damning realization: it's not his happiness he's feeling... it's yours.

the revelation is fully enforced when he sees you leaving the stage and hugging soobin. he feels your heart skipping a beat when he watches your fingers lacing with the other man's. he can't quite understand it, but the contentment you feel juxtaposes the sadness brewing inside of him. the sense that something is missing feels more palpable than ever. you walk off with soobin, swinging your interlocked hands while he gently brushes his thumb against your fingers. you don't look beomgyu's way even once, and his eyes start to burn when he realizes that image will forever be seared into his head. he has nobody to blame but himself.

-

beomgyu can feel your joy now and it makes him sick. he feels the butterflies in your stomach as you slow dance with soobin. feels your first kiss and the thrums of electricity permeating from your lips to your toes. he even feels your excitement before soobin makes love to you for the first time and the pure bliss that comes after. he feels it all and it's enough to make his stomach churn. he wonders if you can still feel his pain, and on some level, he hopes you do. maybe he's selfish, but it would serve as another reminder that he's bound to you and you to him. it doesn't feel like you can, though. how could you be so happy if you felt even a fraction of the weight on his chest? he's drowning every day and you're out playing first comes love then comes marriage with soobin. he's currently looking at your instagram from a burner account (you blocked him on his main) and he's trying to keep his pain tucked carefully behind his ribs, where his heart is, but it's constantly threatening to overcome him. you look different — not bad — just different. you're glowing now, it seems, and your hair is always down. he has a guess as to why that might be, and it pains him to think about it. this must be the yearning everyone, including you, had felt. he supposes he should be happy that you're happy, but he's never claimed to be a good person, and the sight of a picture of you planting a kiss on soobin's cheek is enough to twist the knife in his chest.

notes pt. 2: hi :,) i hope you all liked this one. if not, i'm sorry :,) my pacing is sooo bad but i'm working on it i swear ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ ) feedback is always appreciated!! and yes, there will be a part 2.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Committed to you - Manjiro >Mikey< Sano

(part two)

Idea/ prompt: Mikey from the last timeline who wants to propose to us but has no idea how to ask so he ask advices from draken and emma

Vixen's two cents: Hi. I know ive been gone for like 2 weeks, I dont know why but it's been hard writing lately. anyway, thanks a million to @anahryal for giving me this idea whilst I was in the pits of my writers block!!! thanks girl, I can't tell you how much this helped. anyway, REQUESTS ARE OPEN and I advise you to use them! now please enjoy my revival piece!

Mikey has thought every possible thought he could have. He had run through every possible situation, every possible outcome, every possible setting, but damnit why was this so hard? He couldn’t do it. Not for the life of him.

He had browsed millions of travel blogs, pondering about every possible spot on earth to take you for the occasion. He had woken in and out of more jewelry stores in the past month than he had ever in his entire life. He had specifically stood in corner stores, reading the wedding catalogues in the magazine section trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.

None of it helped.

Manjiro wanted it so bad. So so very bad. Every white dress he walked by, he envisioned you in it. Every bakery shop he passed, his eyes flitted up and down the fancy display cakes, pondering whether or not it would be good enough. Any time he woke up next to you, every time he joined you in the shower, every time he watched you cook, the urge to sink to one knee overtook him.

He knew he couldn’t make it that simple though. It was too domestic for him, so little of a gesture. He wanted you to know that he loved you, that he would bring you the moon if you wanted it. He needed you to see just how much he appreciates you for sticking with him through everything, and for that he needs a grand gesture.

However it seemed that nothing he could think of was quite big enough, quite meaningful enough, quite heartfelt enough. He was at the end of his wits. For one and a half months- seven weeks he had been fighting this battle alone.

He had made some progress in that time, having picked the ring because when he picked it up he just felt that this was the one. It was a niche store, and he was initially appalled by the average price of the rings, but decided, ah what the fuck? and entered the store for mostly shits and giggles. He was greeted by an expensive looking elderly gentleman who donned a monocle and silk gloves, clearly the clerk, and clearly an expert. He had the longest, most engaging talk with the man, explaining his situation and his frustrations, to which the man nodded understandingly and told of his own story and experience with marigge.

Seven long weeks he had kept it a secret from everyone, and now he couldn’t take it anymore.

He was just about to throw the towel on this whole thing and say fuck it and give up on this whole marriage thing and just accept that he would never make it, when he remembered that he didnt have to be alone in this. Not at all matter of fact. His best friend married his sister after all. If Ken could do it with the pressure of Shinichiro, Izana AND Mikey breathing down his neck, then surely he could do it too, right?

You were out on a girls night with Hinata, Senju and Yuzuha. Emma would have tagged along normally too, but with the addition of a new-born baby, she decided that it would be best to sit out this time. Either way you were out of the house for the night, and Mikey was left to his own devices. You had left him with a kiss and a home-cooked meal (which he felt bad about leaving behind so he completely stuffed himself before coming here) before he gave Ken a quick heads up over the phone that he was coming over with a VERY important problem.

Thats how he found himself here. Standing in the Kitchen of Emma and Ken‘s flat, hands perched on the counter, looking down at the surface, face in a deep frown. „What’s goin on? What’s the problem?“ Ken asks roughly, leaned on the refrigerator as he eyed his friend. Mikey didnt really respond though.

„What problem?“ Emma‘s voice was hushed as she entered through the kitchen door, pulling the door shut behind her, probably for the sake of the baby. „I dont know.“ Ken responded, rubbing his eyebrows „Ask your brother.“ he sighed as he gestured to Mikey who was still staring down the counter.

“Mikey?!” Emma sounded confused and a little concerned as she turned to look at him, eyes flitting between her brother and her husband. “Did you know he was coming over?”

Ken nodded wordlessly. “Said he needs our help about something.” Emma’s head tilted in question but accepted the fact. “What’s up Mikey?” She asked, approaching him and joining Draken at the other side of the counter.

Mikey didn’t say anything though, instead reaching into his pocket and producing a small, black, silk-encased box. He dropped it onto the table and looked up at the couple in desperation. “How do I do it?”

Ken gasped and felt his lips tug into a smile, happy that finally, finally Mikey was wiping you up (he had told him to do so since they were teens).

Emma slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle a silent scream, beginning to voice up and down on excitement as she realized- her brother was marrying you! She thanked the gods that Mikey fell in love with you because there was no better in-law than her Soulsister.

“Ahhhhh! Oh my goodness Mikey! I’m so happy for you! Can I see? Wow! Oh my god Ken are you seeing this!? He’s proposing! Ah I’m so glad!” Mikey nodded in response and let Emma pick up the box and crack it open, revealing the beautiful white-gold wedding band, encrusted with more diamonds than she could count. Notably, one large diamond sat in the middle of the ring, flanked by two smaller diamonds on each side.

“Oh.” Emma breathed. “Ken why didn’t you ask Manjiro for help when picking my ring?” Emma sounded slightly offended as she spoke, glaring down at the ring.

“Nah nah, don’t get it twisted girl. You told me what ring you wanted, I didn’t have much picking liberty other than the price.” Ken waved his hands in dismissal, brushing off her accusations with a grin still wide on his face. He made his way over to Mikey and clapped a hand on his shoulder, congratulating him for the occasion.

“Good on you man! Finally givin it the push, hah?” Ken was smiling as he searched for Mikey’s eyes, but he didn’t look up. “What’s up with the long face? You’re about to propose dude, you should be over the moon!”

Mikey sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to propose to her for months. Months Ken. I can’t do it. It’s never right.”

The couple halted their celebrations and turned to look at Mikey again, Emma putting down the dainty box as her looks turns to one of concern. “What do you mean?” She fingered at the box as she leaned across the counter.

“It’s… i don’t know. Ken made it look so easy when he proposed to you, and Pah-chin was even more mindless about it! I really want to. I really do, but every time I get close, I chicken out because I get scared or because something isn’t right, and I’m starting to think that it’s better if I just… don’t.” Mikey sighed and cradled his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the counter.

Emma and Ken shared a look, a wordless exchange of worry and empathy. "What kind of proposal were you thinking of? Big? Small? Public? Private?" Emma started, hand rubbing soothingly across her brother's back.

"Big." Mikey mumbled into his hands, remaining hunched over the counter. "Big and public. I wanna make sure that everyone knows, everyone sees, I want them all to know. want them to know how much I love her."

Emma's eyes softened and she suppressed a smile, because all in all, it was cute. She had always known her brother to be big and strong, undefeatable, and most of all unwaverable. Mikey always put up the strong front when really, he was hurt. Vulnerability wasn't something that she was used to seeing from him, which made this moment all the more special.

"Do you want to go somewhere with her?" Ken steps in and asks, an idea arising. Mikey only grunts, a noise of agreement sounding through the room. "Do you know what kind of places she likes?" Ken continues.

Mikey's head slowly raises from the position on the table and he stares forward at the refrigerator. "Europe."

Emma and Ken looked at one another again, sensing that they were getting somewhere. "Then take her on Vacation. You both have that long shared break coming up, don't you? Travel through Europe and when it feels right, ask!" Ken said.

"How do I know when it feels right, though? What if it's not the moment?" Mikey asks, still not entirely convinced. "You'll know. I promise you, you'll know. I knew too and I didn't think I had the stuff to ever get married." Ken reassures again, and this time the two share eye contact, and it takes Draken a lot not to tear up.

Draken took a moment in his mind to look at Mikey. He had stuck by his side since they were kids, through thick and thin it's always been the two if them against the world. And now as he looked at Manjiro he no longer saw the unmatchable delinquent he saw ten years ago, but rather a distinguished person with complex thoughts and emotions. He saw a man that felt, a man that cared and a man that loved in front of him, and he couldn't be prouder.

Ken nodded at Mikey, and Mikey nodded back at him. "Yeah. She'll love it! Thanks, I'll do that! Gosh I don't know what id do without you two.."

"Oh, please propose to her in front of the Eifel Tower! Or the Coliseum! Or on some romantic Bridge in Venice!" Emma swooned and held her hands over her chest, hearts in her eyes.

Mikey smiled at her and nodded again. "I'll try and film it if I can."

-

The rest of the evening was spent with the three of them checking about a thousand booking sites, mapping travel routes and destinations, and the occasional cacophony of laughter which led to a grumpy Ryuguji-baby. Manjiro couldn't wait to go with you, he thought as he sat on one of the armchairs, gently running a thumb over the silk box that sat pretty in his hand.

[papil0nglegs]

Can I request tf2 mercs with a reader who is genuinely terrifying. Like there quiet, sneaky, uncanny, basically reader is kinda like the mercs very own cryptid. (Bonus points if reader is tall af<3)

Boo 🤍

A/n: Spy’s is a little short here 😣 I hope you weren’t too eager to see his lol. I got a little experimental with this one, not too much tho. Also I’ll be going on another break, I know I just finished one but I’m going through an unexpected rough time rn. So sorry guys, hope you enjoy <33

Warnings: Video used may be a spoiler for s2 of scream queens, Praying is used in a humorous light

To start things off, you introduced yourself in the worst way possible. The bus that you were supposed to take got broken down so you had to find your way through the base without knowing where the entrance was. So what’d you do? Bang into a bunch of glass windows at 3am while it was RAINING. Some of the mercs were up trying to fix up the power generator and..

I saved that clip for weeks I’m so happy I have a reason to use it now

I know they’re all supposed to be big bad mercs but you scared the living FUCK out of them.

Scout

This man went running. He went all the way from the generator to the fucking bunks in the span of a minute! So what’d he do when he got to his room? He grabbed his cross necklace, got on his knees, and started PRAYING.

“Please god Jesus frickin’ Christ hear my prayers, save me-I’m sorry about all those magazines I keep under my bunk and I’m sorry that I told spy to go fuck himself when he told me I couldn’t pull bitches and I’m sorry I call girls bitches please just don’t let me friggin’ die dude!!”

He just kept chanting the same things until Miss Pauling found him cradling himself on his bed with a blanket wrapped around him.

“Scout what are you doing?”

“THERE IS A GHOST IN THE BASE.”

“Oh, you mean y/n?”

‘Hi 👁️‍🗨️👁️‍🗨️’

Yea he was pretty freaked out by you. To make it worse, you always just stare at him. He can’t remember a single moment where he looked at you and didn’t catch your tiny pupils locked onto him.

At first he’d just gently wave awkwardly while you did the same so freakishly. Eventually he decided to say something because it was scaring him, something he’ll never admit

“Yo you got a problem or somethin’, what’s with all the stares?”

“Nothing, I just like looking at you. Your structure pleases me.”

“..oh, well that’s actually-wait I thought-hold on do you really-pfft-Yeesh, I didn’t expect you out of everyone to haha.. Yknow”

Yeah he was blushing like crazy, such a straightforward compliment.

He’s still scared of you, but he uses you as his hype man every now and then. He’ll fish for compliments and WILL receive them

“Dontcha think I got some nice racks for a guy?”

“..Totally”

He could literally walk up to you and threaten to kill you and your reaction is just “yuh go for it”

If you’re freakishly tall then he calls you tree. Cuz

If you’re on the shorter side then he would just pick you up from the shoulders and kiss you on the forehead. He knows you won’t do shit, you’re literally just 🧍‍♀️

Engineer

He didn’t even notice everyone else went running, he just kept on working on the electrical box. So when he stood up and saw you staring straight into the glass, he jumped a little but was mostly just confused

“What in the..”

“tap tap-Can you let me in?”

You’re lucky he didn’t go running like everyone else, you probably would’ve died from the flu if you spent another second outside in the freezing rain.

He puts a bell on you. He just had one laying around and tied it around the your wrist, it didn’t work because of how stiff your movements were so to ‘help’ you rang it against his ear.

“..”

“…..🔔🔔🔔🔔”

“GOD DAMN IT- oh, y/n”

“Sorry, the bell wasn’t ringing how you wanted it to so I rang it myself”

“Uh-huh, thanks for the warning partner”

From my experience southern people love to make conversation, but you aren’t really familiar with that. So when he tries to flirt it gets pretty awkward

“How’s it goin’ sugar, I reckon your looking quite nice today”

“👁️‍🗨️👁️‍🗨️”

“..you gonna say anythin’ back?”

“Oh, um.. I like your face.”

“Woah, alright then.”

He feels so embarrassed when he stands next to your tall ass, it makes him feel belittled. Especially when you actively have to look down just to make eye contact

But if you’re short then he loves it. Finally for once he doesn’t have to be reminded of his height when standing next to anyone.

Spy

He’s gone as soon as you show up. Like straight up disappears. He doesn’t like to show fear-makes him look weak

He’s convinced you could still see him though, cuz you happen to look in his direction even while he was invisible.

You don’t scare him as much as the others, if anything he took a bit of a liking to you because you stressed him out the least compared to the others. He always stood next to you + you were always his first pick for missions

You always make small talk with him. He doesn’t enjoy it but he still responds

“What is under your mask?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Why? Do you look like me?”

Spy doesn’t know if he should feel offended or annoyed

You don’t necessarily startle him like everyone else but you do make his heart jump slightly when you pop out of nowhere, you can see it in his pupils but never his body.

Pyro

HE RAN TOO BUT DIDN’T KNOW WHY LMFAO

He just saw everyone running and went ‘oh okay we’re doing this now 🏃‍♂️’

But seriously, he fell in love with you at first sight. Your features felt so intricate to him, you always gave each other blank stares, zoning into each other’s eyes.

‘⚫️ ⚫️’

“👁️‍🗨️👁️‍🗨️ hi”

“⚫️ ⚫️ mmf”

You’re the only person who can fully understand him. No, not using his body language, you can actually tell what he’s saying. He aw’s at that, finally someone knows what he’s saying.

It makes him more self aware than how he was before, he’ll say some really petty shit and when you react he panics

“Mmph mmm”

“um pyro I need you to calm yourself”

“Mm!”

Somehow you disturb HIM, you’ll point something out to him and talk to him like he’s crazy which makes him crazy

“Pyro, you reek of fire, it’s 30° outside, and it’s a cease day. Do you have any thoughts?”

“Mmmf mmm mph ☹️”

*plz leave me alone

Since you and him are so observant, the rest of the mercs are a little spooked by you guys. You’ll be in the corner with him watching and everyone is fairly weirded out.

“Mm mmmfmm mm”

“Pyro you’re hilarious.”

“What did thing say?”

“He said that if you were a littlest pet shop figure you’d be #508”

“..heavy is not sure what he expected”

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 10 . Nothing More, Nothing Less (3)

a/n: idk which of my blood conditions is acting like a btch but my legs are weak so sitting on a chair is uncomfortable but placing my laptop on my lap is also uncomfortable...

tags: injuries, hiding said injuries, feelings in progress

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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"_____ remember that I have told you that you must work hard while you're under my care?"

"Of course Cale-sunbae, has the time come for me to earn my keep?"

"I like that attitude of yours. Yes, you must pay for your meals now. It is time to save some poor souls once again."

Cale looked uncharacteristically holy. It made the healer wonder if they were actually going to heal people or scam them.

Against _____’s worries, they were really out to heal people. The soldiers of the Whipper Kingdom specifically.

“Just do it how you used to back in our kingdom, but don’t overdo it. I know you prefer working alone as you were used to that, but remember that Rosalyn and Choi Han are at your disposal”

Was what Cale said as everyone prepared their disguises and potions. _____ didn’t need a disguise as their outside outfit already covered everything that could become an identifier. They just chose a colour that matched everyone else’s robes.

True to Cale’s words Choi Han and Rosalyn were keeping an eye out for _____. The two gave the healer space so they could work comfortably but still glanced at them from time to time despite being busy assisting Cage and Jack.

For good measure, the young master also made _____ carry many healing potions.

“Use this if the patient’s wounds are too severe, if you start to feel tired, or when you have too many wounds. Actually, just use them whenever you please. We have lots of potions at our disposal so just use them all.”

Most of the group’s worries disappeared the moment the healer started working.

None of them has seen _____ in action so this was a new sight for them. Sure there was the time during the plaza incident but their focus was on Cale at the time.

_____ looks like fish in water.

Everyone is suddenly reminded why they were dubbed Roan Kingdom’s Medicus.

They know how to approach each patient. How to console them and make them relax. Even the grouchiest of warriors relax under _____’s care. 

They know the most efficient way to heal every patient. When to use their healing powers. When to use potions and/or bandages instead. When to pass them on to the other healers. What herbs to use and what is the most efficient way of intaking them.

Aside from healing warriors and soldiers, _____ has also taken it upon themself to replenish everyone’s energies. Especially Jack and Cage who are at the vanguard of this operation. At first Rosalyn and Choi Han were against it (Cale too but he was busy playing Saint so he left it to the two). _____ assured them by explaining that their ancient power won’t make them faint nor does it take away their own energy.

Cale took personal offence to that, but anyway.

It’s obvious that they have a lot of experience healing a large number of people with varying severities of wounds.

Rosalyn finds that fact bittersweet.

She’s proud because while Jack might’ve stolen the show with his holy powers, everyone can vouch that _____ is the most efficient. Rosalyn could hear people gossiping about how _____ makes everything look smooth and easy. It didn’t even look like they were breaking a sweat.

On the other hand, Rosalyn is sad because it reminds her of _____’s upbringing. It reminds her that instead of playing outside or studying, _____ was busy healing people at such a young age. Instead of going to sleep after drinking a warm glass of milk or being told bedtime stories, _____ has to sleep while writhing in pain because of all the things their body has absorbed.

It made Rosalyn’s resolve to look after _____ stronger.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t there to just play assistant. She has another mission she must complete with Cale, Choi Han, and Raon.

So whether Rosalyn liked it or not she must leave _____’s side.

Well, the other two disguised priests are with them and know that _____ is weak so everything should be fine right?

Tough. Luck.

The two may have known about _____’s constitution but they didn’t know how the Medicus’ power works. 

“Human you told them to watch over kind _____, but did you tell them to not let them heal severe wounds?”

Shit

Cale didn’t…

An honest mistake on Cale’s end. 

Cale and others like Raon and Rosalyn already know the tell-tale signs of _____ overusing their powers. They were so used to knowing what the slightest twitch in _____’s hands meant that they forgot others didn’t.

Raon had asked when they were in the middle of riling up the empire’s troops so there was nothing Cale could do at the moment except try to move faster.

“Where’s healer-nim?[1]”

Cale’s calm demeanour and voice were betrayed by his eyes. His eyes, that's currently dyed blue, shook slightly. It may have been a small movement but it was enough to tell Cage just how worried the young master is.

“We managed to get a break this afternoon, as soon as we did healer-nim said they were going to rest for a while. We tried to get them to eat but they said they were too tired.”

Jack followed Cage’s report.

“Following what the young master-nim said about limiting information about healer-nim we have only informed Harol about them being weak so they could get a comfortable tent. We didn’t specify anything other than that. Cage-nim also made sure to inform them that they must have your permission to enter that tent.”

The man whose hair is currently dyed white nodded in approval. However, there’s a frown on his face.

"Haaa how could I forget such an important thing..."

Cale accidentally let out his real thoughts.

Ignoring the look on the two ‘priests’ faces, Cale starts walking to where _____’s tent is.

"What kind of injuries were they healing since this morning- no just give me a list of the severe wounds you saw them treating"

"The last person they treated had a big wound on their abdomen. Just before that, they had a patient who was stabbed near the lungs…”

Huuuu

Cale said nothing else but moved faster. The two confused priests silently followed the even more agitated young master.

When they got to the tent Cale and the invisible Raon were the only ones who entered. The white-haired man told the two healers to go back and rest for the meantime.

How could they when they could smell the stench of blood from outside _____’s tent?

Despite the foul stench, there are no signs of blood inside.

That made Cale’s frown deeper because it meant _____ knew this would happen and was prepared in advance.

Then he sees _____ on a chair instead of on the bed like how Cage and Jack left them.

“What is an injured person doing slumped over like that on an uncomfortable chair?”

“Ahaha Cale-sunbae, I- haaa, I heard a commotion outside so I went out for a bit. Don’t worry I went back in as soon as you finished putting out the fire.”

It was the truth. _____ couldn’t help but watch Cale’s magnificent performance that they forgot about their condition for a little bit. 

They also felt a warm and fuzzy feeling in their chest. They didn't quite understand what it was because it was the first time they felt that way. So they chalked it up as feelings of admiration.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But back to the present. 

“Stop speaking, you can barely breathe.”

The healer only laughed weakly before passing out. When they did Cale sighed heavily before poking his head out of the tent.

“Since the two of you are still here help me move healer-nim to the bed. But you really must leave afterwards. We must have healers on standby in case something happens.”

Once everyone but Raon was outside the room Cale started unbuttoning _____’s priest robes.

“Human! What are you doing!? You’re supposed to be making _____ better-”

The panicking dragon who forgot to use telepathy stopped in his tracks when he saw what was underneath those robes.

As Cale suspected there was another layer of clothes and then bandages underneath. Both were soaked in blood.

“Technically you absorb other people’s wounds, right? How come there hasn’t been an issue of you randomly bleeding?”

It was one of those days when Cale and _____ were rolling around on the villa’s marble floors. They were talking about whatever comes to mind.

“My adoptive family was kind enough to always give me a heads up before making me do large projects. It gave me time to prepare.”

“What kind of preparation do you do?”

“I usually wear bandages in advance, if I think there’s going to be a lot of people or at least a lot of heavily wounded ones I wear extra layers of clothing. Aside from that, I have also taken it upon myself to use potions when the person I’m healing has a wound on their face. It would be bad if someone saw me randomly manifesting a wound, especially children, it would scare them…”

For the nth time, Cale sighed as he pushed the memory aside. He can reminisce after treating the healer.

As Cale poured the high-grade potions on _____ Raon started asking why he didn’t just ask Cage or Jack to heal them. It would more be faster and efficient.

Cale ignored the dragon. Because honestly, he has no answer.

He just knows that he feels iffy at the idea of letting someone else heal _____ after they’ve been healing everyone else since yesterday.

He didn’t know why he felt that way so he stayed silent.

Cale only spoke up again to ask Raon to use magic to clean up the traces of blood.

That night, the man decided to stay beside the healer. Rosalyn and Choi Han can cover for him in case something happens.

He's going to stay in this tent until _____ feels better and that’s final.

Cale knows his acting irrational. He knows that _____ is going to be fine. His eyes witness how fast their wounds close. He committed it to memory.

But still.

He feels inclined to stay by their side. At least while the healer was unconscious.

Maybe it was because he personally asked them to join him. Maybe because he feels responsible for their well-being. 

Yeah, it’s just responsibility.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And so Cale dismisses his lingering thoughts. Those thoughts will only hinder him and his plans. He has better things to do than dwell on feelings his unsure of.

Fortunately, the next morning _____ was feeling better. They were back to their usual self as if the copious amount of blood the two witnessed last night was a lie.

“No, I won’t allow you to go out there. Jack and Cage can handle it. You go back and rest.”

Rosalyn is not having it.

And honestly, Cale agrees.

Despite them feeling much better this morning, it’s so obvious to Cale that _____ is still sick. Their face are pale and their hands tremble ever so slightly.

It may not be obvious to other people but it’s clear as day to Cale.

“Rosalyn is right, go back to your tent and rest.”

“I’m fine really. This is actually less than the burden I usually take.”

The three humans sighed at that.

The four argued a bit more. A 3v1 but _____ is holding their ground, and it's making all of them frustrated. Despite their efforts, the healer is insistent on going back to work.

“If I help then we’ll get things done faster. If we get things done faster then the sooner I can rest. If I don’t help then we’ll be here longer and I won’t be able to rest properly because I’ll worry too much.”

That was the argument that let _____ go back to work.

Of course not without Cale saying that his going to order Choi Han to drag them back to bed if he sees anything wrong.

In the end, the matter was dismissed, and _____ went on their merry way to heal more patients.

If Jack and Cage noticed the four, if you include Raon, watching _____’s every move like a hawk then they didn’t mention anything.

Cale still feels tense at the idea of letting the already injured healer work and absorb more wounds. Even after he made sure that _____ would only take care of minor wounds he still feels iffy. 

However, he let it go for the time being.

Because they indeed need the extra set of hands. 

It’s totally not because he thinks _____ looks good when they are happy and basking in that well-deserved praise they receive.

He just agrees that things here should wrap up quickly.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The next day they did everything they needed to do and were on their merry way back home.

When they were away from everyone else _____ couldn't help but listen to Cage's joking comment about Cale.

"Young master-nim, I think you'll make a great Pope in the future."

_____ could see Jack nodding his head as he looked towards Cale with sparkling eyes.

"She is right. Even if you do not have any divine powers, you are a warm person who has the purest of minds, Cale-nim. You definitely have what it takes to be a great Pope that looks after the believers of god. 'Not discriminating on life.' I learned something new again."

At that moment _____ couldn't hold it in and let out a hearty but soft laugh. Their soft laughter played like music in everyone's ears. The four people who have been with the healer these past months had a momentary look of shock on their faces. 

This was the first time the group had seen them smile that big, let alone laugh. Most of the time they would be lucky if they could see a small, almost non-existent smile on their lips.

After a few seconds, the shock turned into confusion as they didn't know why _____ was laughing. 

Well everyone but Cale.

Cale knew the reason for the healer's laughter. He’s pretty sure the healer is laughing at him because being a Pope would get in the way of his slacker life. 

Yes, Cale had also told them about how he is currently working towards a life of forever lounging around and doing nothing. 

Cale just ignored everyone's confused faces and ordered Raon to bring them home. 

Aside from Cale himself, no one missed the soft smile forming on his lips.

[1] reader is famous, that and Toonka don't know their real identity so they avoid saying the reader's name by referring to them as healer

[tyttamarzh]

Midnight Ramblings about Missa (Or "character analysis focused on his seeking approval and how this influences his self-perception and in his performance") (Or "My boy just needs confidence and time to show how chingón he is.")

I have a thought… okay, okay, yes, Missa is a wet cat and he can't escape of that… but I think everyone underrate the ability of him for learn and improve…

When all came to the island, no one have nothing and everyone seems at the same level in general. For Missa was hard, but he adapted to life, he build a house, had an armor, went to mines and dungeons with his friends and even when others helped him, he always tried to make it on his own and search his own purpose. Everyday he gain more expierence and confidence and lost the fear to go out alone, he could fight for himself, he could survive. Then, when everyone was paired up to take care of the eggs and he met Phil, he tried his best for being useful, for help him.

He always does that, but this time he had just met him and he wanted to do his best to make a good impression on this new person in his life.

He had already done it before, that has a context, when he met the "Team Vacio Legal" (and was adopted), at first he was not considered part of the team, they treated him like an assistant, they called him his pet and they even told him that they would use him as bait, but Missa was so grateful to be with them, that he accepted all their orders willingly and strove to do the best for them (They were not just any team, it was the one that was considered the strongest and favorite to win, in fact, the winner was a member of this team). I remember that they ordered him to build a temporary house if he wanted to stay and at that moment he began to build non-stop, and he was doing it very fast, he was very concentrated on it, then Rubius, to annoy him, stand right where he was going to put a block and Missa stood paralyzed, neither of them said anything for a few seconds, until Missa, quite anxious, said: " Please, please, I'm just trying to do a good job…" and at that Rubius gave up the idea of joking with him and simply looked at him and said "You're doing very well" and moved, to which Missa He laughed and continued working until he finished. His dedication made everyone quickly become attached to him and at some point the line between being everyone's servant and being everyone's protected faded (even the 4 of them risked their lives to go save Missa's dog from acid rain), he went from not being considered part of the team to being the most loved by all of them, so much so that his death devastated them and they continued using his name as a banner until the end (ohh I really loved Extremo, sorry xD).

Even if Missa knows that he is not good at many things, he gives everything, he strives, learns and grows, to continue giving everything for those he loves, that is how he died in Extremo, helping Quackity (although Quackity did not even realize until later).

The point is, being with Phil, he helped in any way he could, he fought against the phantoms so that Phil could continue working and in fact he must have felt very good when the mission was "sing a song to the baby" because finally one of his abilities It would be necessary and useful.

Phil never had a problem with Missa in Chayanne's care. Missa was constantly striving to be competent and they didn't really spend enough time together for Phil to realize what Missa's level really was. The problem began when he was gone for so long, because everyone's level increased at the same time as the difficulty of the world, which made Missa's lack of experience very evident. And it wasn't just because he was poor and didn't have the resources to defend himself, as Phil thought at first, Missa missed out on a lot of growth and learning about Minecraft that he could have had if he had stayed on the server. Though he tries now, he doesn't He manages to cope with the current world, which made him tremendously insecure about his abilities, which is why on many occasions he no longer try and just lets himself die. Making it very obvious to everyone, even Phil, that he can't survive alone, since he's just a little wet cat.

There is something that I miss a lot about the dynamic he had with Spreen, you see, I know that many who watch QSMP did not know what their relationship was like and do not know why he is so important to Missa, but it is because Spreen never doubted Missa's abilities, even when no one, not even Missa, trusted his abilities, Spreen always trusted, he once bet on a fight that Missa had, even when Missa said she had no idea about PVP, he bet on him and to everyone's amazement, won and was like "I knew you could." Missa always tried hard to do things and get praise from Spreen, he saw him as a father he wanted to make proud and he jumped with happiness like a child when he achieved it and that's how he grew up a lot (Having the player who is considered one of the best treat you that way and praise you must be an incredible feeling).

Losing his brother not only affected him emotionally, it affected him in the sense that he lost that and that's why his self-confidence went down the drain, because when he fails he no longer hears the "calm down, you'll make it next time, champion" now he listens "Be careful, it's dangerous" "Stay away" and he is simply saved and protected by others.

I'm not saying that Phil is wrong to help him, but that made him somewhat dependent and added to his frustration at not being able to face the world alone, it made him feel like a burden to everyone (the fact that he doesn't log on doesn't help him). Somehow that made him have a kind of regression and he went back to being the fearful boy who needs to be taken care of, it's not even like in the early days of QSMP, it's like in the early days of Extremo, considering himself completely useless and stupid, struggling to try to do things right and receive some approval, but getting frustrated at not achieving it (which is why what Tina did in purgatory helped him a lot "Tina, better therapist than Melissa" xD).

Now… let's go to the present, because I saw something very different in Missa the last time. What happened in purgatory perhaps gave him more growth than we thought, not only on an emotional level by helping him decide to stay with Phil despite not feeling enough, but on a personal level. He said to Chayanne he had been working to be a better person (better player) and wanted to show what he had learned (now seeking Chayanne's approval), somehow he found that motivation again to grow and not just lamenting his situation (that implies that CC Missa he was really practicing. My friends, he didn't even do that for the squid games, he finished installing Minecraft and jumped into the water), that gives me hope that this time he is serious about stay and if he has enough time and if this time he really delivers with his promise to log on more we could see him grow and bring out his full potential (in Extremo 2 he was doing a great job until he died suddenly and became fearful again, in purgatory he was doing things well until he realized he had the wrong missions and felt sad and useless… he can do great, his ruin it is that he sabotages himself by his lack of confidence).

Possibly he will never stop being a wet cat, that is tattooed in his character, but I think that is precisely why everyone tends to underestimate him. I am sure that one day my boy is going to give everyone a big surprise… I believe!

I think my little late night thought turned into an analysis and then a Tesis, sorry about that… I hope someone finds my ramblings entertaining…

Thank you for reading!

[the-s1lly-corner]

slashers x autistic!fem!reader hcs if you're comfy with that!!! (idrc about the rest but please let jason and thomas be there 🙏)

Jason and Thomas x autistic!fem!reader

grrrgrr trying to speedrun writing so i can go work on other stuff but my fingers keep either going stiff or simply not following what i want to write raaaaah!! i used to be able to write like, 5-8 posts back to back but it seems currently im limited to 2 or 3 hisshiss notes: reader is fem, a lot of this is based around the admins experiences as an afab with autism, admins experience does not reflect everyones experience, something something admin headcanons both characters are on the spectrum albeit undiagnosed and likely unaware that theyre ND cws: mentioned bullying and/or ableism

JASON

doesnt mind your needs, and hes more than welcome to accommodate you and make living here with him easier for you

need your own space so you can unwind? hes already on it, just be sure to let him know if you need anything! need something to keep excess noise out, or to perhaps play music? he might be able to find a pair of headphones somewhere! can only eat certain foods due to sensory issues? hes sure he can find a way to help you!

if you ever open up to him about your struggles prior to moving in with him, hes going to feel for you... not only because hes reeling from the idea that anyone could treat you so poorly for trying to function the way the way thats best for you.. but also because he finds himself relating heavily to you-

actually him tending to you and your needs has him realizing that he hasnt really been tending to his own.. hes mostly been doing the basic "eat sleep clean repeat" cycle before you came around... he would just power through whatever else was bothering him

you both take care of each other, and in your case you help him find what works for him and what doesnt

if you ever mention any of his interests hes going to remember everything you tell him... and if it happens to be a media hes going to light up if he ever sees a camper sporting some merch for it... definitely going to yoink that to give you later

THOMAS

does his very best to make things easier for you, even helping you change up your room to better suit your needs

he doesnt really talk, but if you have an interest you want to ramble about hes going to let you talk for as long as you want! depending on what work he needs to do that day he might let you talk as he does his chores!

doesnt know anything about neurodivergency but hes willing to let you guide him so he can understand, you... may raise some internal suspicions in him that he may not totally be neurotypical

similar to jason you may end up helping him find what he doesnt like and does like, stuff that hes been ignoring and pushing to the back of his mind for the sake of keeping things running and doing what hes told

your room becomes a quiet space for the two of you to retreat to during the day to let your walls down and relax before heading back out into the world

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 18

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

While you told Kai you would be going back to the inn, you didn’t feel fully comfortable entering a room where his father might still be awake, unsure how to navigate the awkward silence. Instead of heading straight back, you let yourself meander through the streets, the cold nipping at your nose, turning it a bright red as you sniffled lightly. You smiled politely at the well-dressed females wandering alongside you, their coats lined with furs and shoes polished for winter. Your own attire was more than a little worn, with a practical jacket far from fashionable but essential for survival.

As you made your way down the paths, past the baker’s square and through the arts district, where peddlers sold art worth more than everything you owned, you observed the chic, modern clothing hanging low on mannequins in fashion halls, with females of all ages drooling over the craftwork. Gradually, you found yourself wandering closer to the outskirts of the city, where things began to look familiar. The music of the city faded into the background, and wreaths became less grand, more hastily strung together with bits of wire but festive nonetheless. The streets were more iced over, clearly not as well-maintained as the inner parts of the city. Snow, scraped to the side, was dirtied and blackened from the roadway, piled high and unmelted by the afternoon sun. Your boots slapped into the slush, kicking up bits of snow onto your pants as you huddled closer into yourself. Clotheslines strung above cut through the fae light, casting long shadows.

You knew this place—the faded green awnings, now with more holes, but recognizable nonetheless. The wrought iron stairs with handrails frozen over, icicles trickling down from them, were just as familiar. You squinted down the alley where the faelight shone in small patches. Somehow, this felt much more recognizable than the squares and inner city where you and Kai had strolled. It perturbed you how little you remembered of those places, yet here, memories flooded back.

You remembered chasing bouncing balls down the street gutters as other fae yelled at you to get out of the road, the rabble of children laughing without care. You recalled sitting on the stoop of the now-closed and boarded-up café with your mother, sharing a sandwich. In your memories, this place always seemed brighter, more lively. Now, a gloom settled over the visions. Your mother, still slightly blurred, appeared skinnier, her wrists and ankles bony. The roadways, which you imagined as clean cobblestone, were now filled with more debris and waste. The rose-colored glasses of your childhood were giving way as you made the long trek down the last alley.

Windows were gated over, with faded lights scraping their way through the grime. From a few streets over, you heard a man and a woman laughing—a maniacal, crazed sound. You turned at what sounded like footsteps behind you but realized it was only snow falling from the patchwork metal roof above. Every hair on your body stood on end as the light seemed to be sucked from every shadow. The sound of your boots on the ground was the only noise besides the dripping water and the subtle murmurs of those inside their homes.

As you reached the end of the alley, the faded green door, now more brown than green, came into view, illuminated by the small flickering fae light above it. The knocker, which you remembered so vividly, now tarnished more than you recalled, stood before you. Letting out a slow breath, you watched it curl into the shadows. The knocker, a fae female with nothing more than a piece of cloth draped around her body, her curves accentuated as she smiled slyly, held the knocker below. As a child, you thought she was beautiful, often standing in the doorway just looking at her, the knocker slowly swinging in the breeze. Now, her face was more tarnished, the wood below splintered and peeling. You read the sign to the right of the door: “Titania’s Temptations & Pleasure House.”

Your heart stopped. You remembered Titania, a boisterous older woman who often took you and the other children living in the apartment on evening walks, offering candies and sweets as some of the children cried for their mothers. Titania, who your mother always referred to as Madame. Titania, who had been there for your first steps when your mother was working. Titania, who had tried to keep you and your mother from leaving, begging her to stay. It couldn’t be the same.

But it was. Your breath caught as you tried to parse through the memories. So much of your time in Velaris was spent with your mother—days and days of memories that now seemed untrustworthy. You looked back down the street, recalling how children ran about playing while their mothers and a few odd fae males sat on stoops. You always thought they enjoyed watching the children play, cheering you on in games. Now, you more clearly recalled their gaunt faces, purpled under their eyes from lack of sleep. Many were thin, wearing not much more than their undergarments as they lounged in the sun. Occasionally, a fae would come down the street, and all the children would run up, begging for sweets or coins to spend in markets, surprising the fae with their requests. Titania would holler from the upstairs windows to stop pestering them. Then, with eyes cast down, the fae would knock on Titania’s door, be let in, and leave a short while later with a rosy glint on their cheeks.

You continued to recall memories. During the day, the children weren’t allowed inside the house, and at night, you all slept in quarters with your mothers, or those who could be there. The pieces slowly came together. Your mother was never around at night, only during the day, except on odd days when she had work. When you finally asked her, she told you she washed laundry. And you, being only a child, with memories laced with lies, believed her.

Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stood on the doorstep, a sob choking through your body as you tried to shake the awful feeling rising inside. Your mother worked in a pleasure house. You were raised in a pleasure house. All your memories circled around this place where your mother sold her body. 

You shook your head, sniffling as you stared at the door knocker, now more hideous than melancholic. Why had you done this? Why did you come back here?

Turning, you descended the steps, slipping on the ice and falling hard on your tailbone, causing a sharp hiss to escape your lips as you sat, tears flowing down your face. 

You sat in the dirty snow, a few echoing sobs escaping your lips. The faint tolling of a bell sounded in the distance, eleven gongs before it subsided. Moments later, the door of the pleasure house creaked open, and out descended various fae, both male and female, none of them looking at each other as they pulled their clothing tighter around their bodies. They walked past you without a glance as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

A familiar voice behind you made you turn. Standing in the doorway was a gaunt, bony fae woman with pale, almost yellowed skin. Her hair was an unnatural, bright red, and she lounged leisurely in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a bright red silk nightgown that barely skirted past her hips. Her nails, matching the vivid red of her hair, tapped idly against the doorframe as she spoke to a male fae whose face was obscured by the collar of his jacket.

“This ain’t no charity,” she hissed. “You don’t pay, you don’t play.”

The male fae whispered back, covering his mouth, “I can get you the payment by next week.”

The woman traced a long line up the center of the male's chest with her elongated, cat-like nail. “Now you listen to me. In my eyes, you’ve already stolen from me and one of my ladies. I expect not only repayment but double. If you run off, I’ll have no problem sending someone to find you in whatever hole you’ve crawled into.” She flicked his nose with the tip of her finger. “Understand me, my love?”

The fae male nodded and walked down the steps.

“Oy, you,” the gravelly-voiced woman called out to you. You turned to her. “This ain’t public property. Get your dirty ass off my stoop.”

You quickly stood, wiping the tears from your eyes and the grime from your rear as you took a few steps forward.

You heard the door creak slightly as the woman went to close it. Without thinking, you rushed up the stairs, shoving your arm between the door and its frame. “Wait!” you called out.

The woman whipped her head around toward you as she shut the door. “Are you stupid?” she hissed. “Get the fuck out of here.” She grabbed your hand, her bony fingers pressing into your own as she pushed your arm out.

“Wait, please!” you pleaded as the door slammed in your face. You pounded one fist on it. You heard the multiple locks clicking into place as you cried out, “I’m here about Sile!”

The locks paused on the other side of the door. Then they unlocked, and the door opened slightly, held by a chain. The woman with the red hair peered out at you. “What about her?”

Panting slightly, your breath visible in the light of the hall behind the woman, you said, “I’m her daughter.”

The woman surveyed your face and then, seemingly in recognition, gasped slightly. “Y/N,” she said more than asked.

“Yes.”

The woman shut the door, unchained it, and opened it fully, peering over your shoulder slightly before beckoning you inside. “Come in, come on, you’ll be letting the draft in.” You stepped past her and, as though you had just come in from playing, wiped your feet on the mat underneath you.

“I should’ve known it was you, with that mess of hair!” the woman said as she took you in. She gripped you by your shoulders, holding you at arm's length as she surveyed you. “You look just like your mother.” She ran her hands down the length of your arms before throwing you a smile. Although her face seemed aged with time, her eyes still held a lightness that you remembered from so many years ago.

You smiled back at her. “It’s good to see you, Titania.”

Titania pulled you close and wrapped her arms around you. Awkwardly, you wrapped your own around her small, bony frame. “You too, my love,” she said, pressing a red-lipsticked kiss onto your cheek, which you knew would leave a stain. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, turning you to take your coat off your back before hanging it on the hall rack. “Come on, let’s get us some tea.” She gestured down the hallway, and you followed her, taking in the sights and sounds of your childhood.

The carpet on the floor, once a place where you lay staring at the wallpapered ceiling with its patterns of overlapping branches, now showed stains on its red cloth, and the ceiling’s paint was peeling. The walls were lined with photos of the women who worked in the house. Some you recognized, while others were unfamiliar. You looked for a photo of your mother but couldn’t find her face among the many.

You followed Titania into the small kitchen, which had not much more than an old woodstove with a few dirty pots and pans on its top, and a sink with a dripping faucet. The familiar cadence of the dripping water brought back memories of playing with dolls under the table your mother had made for you from sticks and weeds. Titania beckoned you to sit at the kitchen table, which you did, the chairs now fitting your body instead of forcing you to climb up them as you did years ago.

Titania filled the kettle as the faucet rattled water out of its spout, then placed it on the stove before coming to sit across from you at the table. Her brown eyes scanned over your face. “I never would have thought I’d see you again,” she said.

You smiled lightly. “I thought the same.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, reaching her hand out to take the one you had placed leisurely on the table.

“I’m here for the festival.”

Titania leaned back in her chair, casually tossing one skinny leg over the other. Her red nightgown barely concealed anything as she propped her elbow over the back of the chair, perching her face on her spiked nails. “Oh, so we’re just in town to visit?”

“I’m here with a friend,” you responded.

“I always wondered what happened to you,” Titania said distantly, looking intently at you.

“It’s been a few years.”

“I’d wager more than a century,” she shot back.

You nodded as the kettle started to whistle. Titania jumped up to pull the pot off, then took out two teacups, both chipped in various places, and placed them on the table, pouring the steaming liquid into each. “So,” she started as she placed the kettle down and resettled into the chair, “fill me in.”

You picked up the cup, feeling the heat push through the thin porcelain, and traced your finger around the lip. “What do you want to know?”

Titania scoffed. “Well, my love, you’re the one who’s been gone. I ain’t seen you since you came to my knee.”

“I’ve been in the mountains.”

“I could’ve figured as much,” Titania responded. “And you’ve just now decided to come pay your old lady a visit?”

“I didn’t know how to get back,” you replied, pulling the cup to your lips and taking a sip. The heat singed your flesh, and you pulled it away quickly.

Titania chuckled. “You ain’t got enough sense to ask for directions?”

“Mama told me we couldn’t come back.”

Titania rolled her eyes. “Your mother was a fool.”

You looked at her, scanning her face, which held a displeased look. “What happened?” you asked.

“With what?”

“Mama, me?”

Titania leaned forward, her gown falling open to reveal her incredibly pronounced collarbones. “What do you know?”

You shook your head lightly. “Only that she packed us up and moved us out. She told me we couldn’t come back.”

Titania nodded. “And your mother, where’s she now?”

You looked around the room. “I was hoping here.”

Titania tilted her head slightly. “You thought she was here?”

“She told me she was going back to the city. A long time ago. And then she never came back.”

Her face fell. “Oh, my love, I’m sorry. If she came back, she didn’t come here.”

You nodded, not surprised. It would have been too easy to find her here, if she was anywhere. “The last I saw of my mother was when she was leaving with me that morning.”

You let your hands cup around the warmth of the tea, looking down into the swirling browns as you asked, “Why did she leave?”

Titania shrugged, leaning back. “I don’t know. I tried to stop her, but she insisted on leaving.” She tsked, “You were so sad, cried like you’d wake the whole city when she pulled you down those steps.”

You furrowed your brow. “I don’t remember that.”

Titania nodded. “Oh for sure, you were sobbing, throwing a fit, begging for her not to take you from Gramma Nia.” Titania picked at her nails.

You shook your head. “I remember leaving and feeling excited.” Was your memory wrong?

“I can’t tell you what happened once you were down the street. But when I last saw you, those tears were as big as dewdrops.”

“And she didn’t say anything about why she had to leave?”

Titania sniffed lightly, pulling her teacup to her lips and leaving a red stain on the edge as she cleared her throat. “Your mother was a very paranoid female, always looking over her shoulder and jumping at shadows. As long as I knew her. She just kept saying it wasn’t safe to stay here.” You just peered into the cup in your hands. “You used to love it here.” Titania smiled lightly. “You’d run around the halls, singing those little songs you’d make up. I can’t tell you how many times I had to tell you to get out of the street because you were getting into other people’s garbage. You were always my little adventurer.”

You smiled. “I remember that yellow ball we had that we used to lose in the sewer gutter.”

Titania guffawed. “Oh yeah, and you’d send one of the little boys down the grate to get it back. They’d be smelling like shit for days after, but they couldn’t say no to you, or you’d wallop them.” You laughed lightly with her. “You loved that little ball, told me it was the best birthday gift you’d ever gotten.” Titania sniffled through a laugh. “Do you remember that little girl, Wren?” You shook your head no. “She was pretty little when you were around, but she would follow you around like a little puppy. You used to get so annoyed at her touching your toys you’d come running into the sitting room screaming bloody murder, ‘Gamma Nia, Wren touched my stuff!’ and then I’d go out and find little Wren with her hand in her mouth just smiling.”

You smiled. “I think I remember her now. She had that little rag doll she carried everywhere.”

Titania nodded. “That’s right! She was a sweet kid, always wanted to be just like you. You were her hero.”

The room felt warmer with the shared memories, the nostalgic laughter easing some of the tension.

You looked puzzled, “What-what do you mean?” 

Titania looked up to you through her turned down eyes, “I just-those memories, those were things we did together.” 

“You were always playing some game. And you’d rightly piss off the other children by changing the rules or bossing them around, even some of the older ones.” Titania ran her thumb over the stain on her cup. “I always told Sile that you were gonna grow up and run this place someday.” She laughed a bit louder. “I remember you used to play High Lady. You’d put on one of your mother’s entertaining gowns and shoes, and you’d go clomping down the hall ordering everyone to move out of your way.” Her laughter grew. “And then you made me take you down to our bakery so you could show off to Henri.”

You looked up at her. “Our bakery?”

Titania’s eyes shone with light. “Yeah, the little bakery on the corner. I’d take you every morning for a cuppa and a scone.”

You swallowed. You had always remembered your mother taking you.

“And Henri just loved you. He’d always tell you that you were the finest lady in all of Velaris, and you’d twirl for him in those heels.” Titania seemed lost in the memory.

“It sounds like we had a lot of fun.” You tried to smile at her.

Titania’s lips curled slightly at the corners, the smear of her lipstick much more defined. “I tried to keep you busy. Especially since you had no manners in knocking before barging through doors. Can’t tell you how furious I used to get when you’d interrupt a client and lady.”

You chuckled lightly, trying to pull any of those memories from your mind. “I wish I could remember that.”

“What do you remember?” Titania asked, leaning onto the table slightly.

You thought through the memories. “I remember walking along the river with Mama. I remember playing in the squares, and I remember the trips she would take me on into the mountains.” You laughed lightly. “I remember that when the summer storms would roll through, I would hide under the bed. And if it was night, I’d wake up and cuddle into Mama.” You looked up at Titania, whose face had hardened slightly, her brow furrowed. “What?”

Titania shook her head out of whatever trance she seemed to be in, relaxing her face. “Oh, no, nothing.” Then she smiled.

You looked at her intently. “What are you thinking about?”

Titania threw her hands up. “What are you talking about? Nothing. I was thinking about the memories.”

“Yeah,” you started, gesturing to her, “but you made a face.”

Titania made a tight-lipped smile and looked down at her cup. “Sometimes, the memories aren’t always as sweet as we think.”

You shook your head lightly. “No, no, Mama and I did those things together.”

Titania licked her lips lightly, smearing the lipstick more. “No, my love. We did those things, except the trips to the woods.”

You shook your head more. “That can’t be right.”

Titania sighed, leaning forward once more and grasping your hands in hers. “My love,” she started, “your mother was a very troubled woman.” Your face fell, brows furrowing as you listened. “And she—she would fall into these spells, where she would just sort of lie around all day. I tried to get her up, get her back to work, but she just wouldn’t. So I’d send her out.” You shook your head lightly. “If she couldn’t work, she couldn’t stay; that was the rule. So I’d tell her to go out, get herself back up, and then come back when she was ready.”

You looked down at the table. “I remember her being around.” You looked up at Titania. “I remember her being around a lot.”

Titania threw you a small, sympathetic smile. “Whenever she was around, and she was,” she paused, “when she was on the right track, she would spend all the time with you she could, but she—she had problems.”

You felt a slight rising anger. “What kind of problems? She was sad? I mean, look where she was!”

Titania’s face hardened. “Watch your tone, my love.”

“No,” you cried out, “no, you would throw her out when she wasn’t ‘performing’ to your standards!”

“I would not!” Titania shot back, her fist pounding into the table, making the cups rattle. “Your mother was troubled.”

“You keep saying that, but you're not explaining what that means. What do you mean, troubled?” You glared at her.

Titania shook her head, looking down at the table. “Your mother—she,” Titania seemed to be searching for the words, “your mother relied on certain substances to feel normal. To be able to get out of bed.”

You looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean, substances?”

Titania sighed. “Your mother, before I found her, was making some very dangerous choices, and she’d gotten in with a rather rough group of people. She was pretty reliant on Luster.”

“Luster?” You asked.

“You haven’t heard of it?”

You shook your head.

“You must have been really deep in the mountains.” Titania chuckled. “Luster is a euphoric. Fae that use it breathe it in as a shining powder to feel like they have some sort of spark in them. It’s cheap to buy and a lot of times is laced with other drugs to make it more potent. I’ve heard them say that they feel like there’s fire in their veins and that the world suddenly seems more colorful.”

“And it’s bad to use it?”

“Fae that use it, like your mother, and a lot of the fae that work in this area, for a long time, seem to not be able to be without it for long. If they go without it, they can go through Lusterburn, and they just sort of seem to be sleeping when they’re awake, or they become enraged, everyone seems to have a different response.”

“And you would throw my mother out for using it?”

Titania’s eyes hardened. “I’d make her leave when she used it around you.”

You leaned in. “Why would you do that?” Your brows furrow in confusion and anger.

Titania’s lips tightened slightly. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She leaned back.

Your face hardened as you commanded, “Tell me.”

Titania ran her tongue over her teeth as she gazed at you. Her leg bounced nervously under the table, and her heel clicked against the floor. “I don’t want to ruin the memories you have.”

“Apparently they’re all wrong anyway.” You responded quickly.

Titania sighed, her eyes softening. “Your mother was an addict, Y/N. She did things she wasn’t proud of, but she loved you. I didn’t want you to see her like that. I didn’t want you to see her when she was down, she’d just ignore you, or scream at you, and you’d cry for hours and she just- she wouldn’t care. That’s why I made her leave when she was using. I couldn’t bear to listen to you seem to lose all hope.”

You swallowed hard, processing the revelation. “So, all those times she left...”

“She was trying to get clean,” Titania finished for you. “She wanted to be the mother you deserved.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the weight of your mother’s struggles. Titania reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “She loved you more than anything, Y/N. Remember that.”

You shook your head, distraught, trying to sift through the memories that you had held so dear, that had kept you going on the darkest days. “She left me,” you whispered softly, to no one in particular. As the words left your lips, they cemented the uncertainty of years gone by, and you considered whether it would have been better to continue living in ignorance.

Titania squeezed your hand again, her eyes turning down to the table. “I’m sorry I don’t know more about what happened to her.”

Without looking at her, you just replied, in a soft whisper, “I don’t know if I want to know anymore.”

The fae across from you took a deep inhale and exhale, as though she had let something go finally, after holding it in for years and years. “She tried to do right by you, Y/N. You have to know she wanted better for you, and whenever she would go on these benders—when she would come down, she would just sob and beg you to forgive her. She really did try.”

“I wasn’t enough.”

“You were more than enough.”

You looked up through your lashes, now heavy with tears, as Titania looked down at you, her mouth fluctuating in discomfort as she tried to find words to make this better. “I wasn’t enough to make her stop. She didn’t choose me.”

“My love, we don’t know why she left you.”

You shook your head. “She didn’t come back either. Even when we were in the village, she would disappear for days, telling me she was going hunting, or to visit someone, or to go gather supplies.” You paused, “And yet, when she never came back with anything, I didn’t question her.”

Titania brushed her nail down your hand. “I know, my love.”

You looked up at her. “Why didn’t she leave me with you?”

Titania took her turn looking down, her heel still clipping on the floor. “Your mother didn’t want you to end up as a pleasure lady.”

You scoffed, “What? She didn’t want me to carry on the family business?”

Titania’s face shifted to one of slight anger. “She didn’t want you to make her mistakes.”

“But we had a good life here,” you cried, tears hitting the table in soft thuds.

“You survived,” Titania responded quickly. “I tried to keep you safe, to feed you, to educate you, but you were sick constantly. You had these fevers that would spike often, and the healers didn’t think it right to use their time and resources on you. But every night when you would lie there,” Titania stopped as if she could see you before her as a child, “you would shake with the chills, and your face would be red, and you wouldn’t speak, just smile at me. Smile like nothing was wrong. And you would ask for her, your mother. You wanted her with you to make you feel better.” Titania choked back a sob. “And when I would try to find her, between clients, to bring her to you, she would just tell me to do my best with you and that she would see you in the morning.”

You wondered if being so sick, combined with your youth, was why your memories seemed so cloudy.

Your lips quivered under the weight of the words that hung in the air like daggers. “Why didn’t you take me anywhere?”

“I tried. I tried to get your mother into a sanctuary, in the library, under the House of Wind,” she paused again, “but the females there didn’t want to take in anyone who might bring in Luster and tempt the others who hadn’t been using it. And I tried to get you to go, but you just wouldn’t. You wanted to stay with us.” She looked up at you. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

You let a sob leave your throat as it burned through you. Your head swam with confusion at everything you felt your life was and had become. You couldn’t seem to stop trying to find her, your mother, her face long since forgotten in your mind, replaced by shadows and blurs which you now thought looked more like Titania than her.

Titania looked at you, her eyes full of sorrow, the red of her lips merely more than a pink now. “She would be proud of you.”

You shook your head. “She would despise me.”

“Look at where you are. Look at who you have become.” Titania urged, her hand lifting yours off the table.

“I have become homeless. I’m mated to a male who hurt me and did things to me I can’t even force myself to think about. I ran from everything and everyone. I have nothing. I am nothing. I’m no better than her.” You shook your head.

“You are not your mother,” Titania whispered as your tears clouded over your sight.

“I don’t even know who that is.” Another sob escaped you, raw and guttural. “I’m so tired, Titania.” Your body convulsed with the force of your emotions, wracking out through coughs and sobs. “I’m so tired of running and hiding. I’m tired of being hurt and never fully healing. I just—” A fresh wave of grief surged, making you gag on the bile rising in your throat. “I’m tired of pretending like the world is anything but lies and pain.”

Titania’s voice was a fragile whisper, filled with sorrow and helplessness. “I know, my love.” Your face grew hotter and wetter, tears and snot mingling as your shoulders heaved with choppy, pain-stricken sobs. She watched you fall apart, unable to stop your anguish. “You are lost,” she finally said as your sobs turned silent, “You are lost, but you are not forgotten. And you may not know the way back, but you can’t stop trying to find it.”

“I’m so tired.” You lifted your gaze, meeting Titania’s tear-filled eyes, the kohl that lined them streaking in black drifts down her cheeks. “I’m so tired of searching for anything.”

Titania’s smile was small but filled with a fierce, enduring love. “You’re not alone, my love. Not anymore.” She squeezed your hand. “And while I won’t let you call this your home, I will always be a home for you.”

Your lip continued to quiver as you looked at her, this woman who you had forgotten but who had never stopped thinking about you. She sat across from you, so full of hope for your future, despite her own life being bleak. Her love and faith in you were palpable, a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed.

You smiled lightly, a simple gesture that seemed to mean the world. Titania rose from her chair, dropping to her knees before you, wrapping her arms around your neck and back. She held you tight, and in that moment, you felt the promise of home. The sweet scent of peppermint, a fragment of a lost memory, washed over you. You thought of her, of Titania.

As you wrapped your arms around each other, Titania’s bony frame seemed fragile, almost breakable at your touch. “I’m not angry with what you do,” you whispered. Titania pulled back, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. “You take care of people. You offer them a home and hope.” Her lips began to quiver. “I don’t care what you or anyone else does for money. I care about what you do and have done for others, and I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me.”

Titania let another tear roll down her cheek, her gaze locked with yours. “I could have done so much more for you, my love,” she said, her voice breaking. She turned away, but you pulled her back.

“You did what you could.”

The two of you sat there for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes, sharing a connection forged in survival. You were two survivors of a life neither of you had asked for, yet you had saved each other, drifting apart only to be brought back together by fate. In this moment, in this kitchen, you were alive and filled with hope, held together by memories that refused to fade.

To my readers, I promise this is still an Azriel fanfiction, the boy will be back. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian

[ladykailitha]

The Eddie Munson Guide to Dating an Oblivious Jock Part 2

LOL! I am loving the reactions for this. This is going to be part fun, with a little a seriousness, because Steve does have to be built up a bit.

Part 1

*

Step Three and Four: Getting your crush alone and Building Their Self-Esteem

This next two are interchangeable depending on your jock. If you think building their confidence is needed before you get them alone, you’ll need to do that first. But you if think that getting them away from their peer group first is essential to building their confidence; get them alone first.

“I think with Lucas,” Max said, “I would need to get him alone first. Because I don’t think he realizes how much they look down on him.”

Eddie nodded. “I did the opposite way with Steve. I needed build his confidence in front of everyone else, so that they would stop picking on his intelligence.”

Max nodded. She had been there for a couple of those smack downs. And she approved.

Now that you’ve established a shared interest, you’ll want to get them alone with you as often as possible. It’s harder to make moves on oblivious jockus, when there are others around to block you, make fun of your attempts, or even catch on to what your doing. Because if they figure it out before the jock, then they’ll tell him and ruin your plans. You want him to come to you all on his own and not because his friends told him to.

But as I said, I had to build his confidence first.

“Look, I know what a gorgon is,” Steve complained. “And I know what a demogorgon is. But what you just said right now, the gelatinous cube thing? That sounds like something I did at a rager.”

“Can you not talk about your slutty past while we’re talking about D&D, please?” Dustin asked, rolling his eyes.

Steve threw his arms in the air. “I’m not! I’m just saying it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!” Mike cried. “It nearly ate me. And it destroyed my shield. And and part of my armor!”

“This isn’t real life, man,” Lucas said. “I know we’ve gone up against some pretty heinous shit, but in the game world it’s pretty scary.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth and he grinned that closed mouth grin that made him look condescending. Steve raised an eyebrow, fully expecting Eddie to join in on the dog piling.

“It’s pretty lame, guys,” Eddie said, kicking back and putting his feet up on the table, interlocking his fingers behind his head. “In fact it was pretty pathetic you got caught in it all.”

Steve pointed to Eddie. “See?”

Eddie grinned. “I was bored. And we weren’t really moving forward in the campaign so I threw it at you to see what you would do. And Mike pretty much tripped and fell into it.”

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all winced.

“And Steve is allowed an opinion,” Eddie growled. “Even to an outsider, a gelatinous cube sounds lame. Now everyone apologize to Steve.”

The three boys looked at each other in shame and they mumbled their apologies.

Steve straightened up.

Once you start building up his esteem, give your jock opportunities to show off his intelligence.

Steve was waiting for Eddie to divvy up gold and experience. He frowned at all the stats they were rattling off.

“How do you keep track of all this stuff?” he asked.

“Well,” Mike said with a sneer, “if you weren’t so slow...”

“Hey,” Will defended. “You try remembering all that stuff with three concussions.”

Eddie just shook his head. “It’s not about intelligence, Steve. It’s about interest.”

Dustin frowned. “No it’s not.”

“I can prove it,” Eddie replied. Steve had his hands on his hips, his mouth a firm line. “Hey, Steve whose team is arguably the best in the NBA?”

Steve’s frown deepened, but he starting talking about who had the best defense and whose offense was superior before landing on a specific team.

All four boys stared at him in shock.

“Now who understood that?” Eddie asked, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

Lucas raised a tentative hand.

Eddie nodded. “Because you’re interested, right?”

The boy nodded.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie called again, this time Steve looked a little less leery. “Who do you think will win the World Series this year? Not your favorite team, but the best one overall.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. And he rambled on for about five minutes explaining who had the best chances of going all the way.

Again all mouths remained slack jawed and all eyes remained wide open.

Eddie grinned. “Now who understood that?”

Will raised his hand. “A little. My dad used to watch baseball.”

Mike nodded. “I understood that a little bit more than I did the basketball.”

“That’s because someone you know would watch it all the time,” Eddie said, “that you kinda pick up a little bit. But you wouldn’t be able to rattle off those stats yourself, right?” He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table.

Mike and Will shook their heads.

“It’s just like I can name all of Metalica’s albums or my five classes in D&D,” Eddie continued. “Steve isn’t slow or stupid. He just has different interests. And it’s not as though you had all that D&D stuff memorized when you first started. And I bet Steve didn’t either, but years of watching and playing gave him that knowledge.”

“How did you know Steve could do that?” Dustin asked.

Eddie laughed. “He and my Uncle Wayne get together on the weekends when I’m practicing with my band to watch sports. They are often argue stats.”

Steve stared at him in shock and then blushed. “I didn’t realize you were about paying attention.”

Eddie just smiled.

Once you’ve given him chances to show off his smarts, make sure you shut down further attempts from his friends to insult his intelligence.

Steve was cleaning up after movie night with the help of Eddie and some very reluctant gremlins.

“You guys made the mess,” Steve insisted. “You get to clean up. Except Max, who, you know, is still using crutches?”

Max smiled up from the couch. “I get to supervise!”

Steve laughed. “Which you won’t use to lord over us at all...” he said sarcastically.

She just grinned bigger.

Steve started by handing out assignments. Lucas was on garbage duty, Will and El were on dishes (the only two Steve trusted not to break anything), Dustin was on vacuum duty, and Mike was wiping down counters.

Mike rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a sport, Steve. Just tell us to clean up and we’ll do it.”

Eddie paused from where he was putting away the food in the fridge. “No you won’t.”

Dustin frowned. “What? Yes we will.”

Eddie scoffed harder. “No, you won’t. As evidenced by how you guys clean up after D&D.”

Lucas stopped picking up the garbage. “We help.”

“You do,” Eddie agreed. “Will, too. But Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here,” he pointed to Dustin and Mike, “will sit on their asses and chat about the campaign, while the rest of us clean up.”

Dustin and Mike opened their mouths to argue, but Eddie leveled a glare at them and they closed them again.

“Besides,” Will said, “there’s nothing wrong with everyone being assigned a task. It gets everything done quicker so we can all go home.”

Steve smirked. “And order isn’t just about sports. Even you guys have an order in your game, right? Initiative, right?”

“But that’s different,” Mike whined.

Eddie grinned. “You remembered!”

The boys paused and then turned to Steve with open mouths.

“I told you guys it was about interest,” Eddie said. “Right, Steve?”

Steve grinned. “Right, Eds.”

“I still can’t believe he missed the fact that you paid attention to his interests,” Max said, rolling her eyes.

Eddie shrugged. “I think he was impressed, but didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

“I mean Steve gives as good as he gets most of the time,” Max said, “but even I didn’t realize what a number they’ve done on his self-esteem until you started calling it out.”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t think anyone realized it was affecting him. Because like you said, he can bitch with the best of them.”

“It’s some times the questions are dumb,” she said, a bit defensively.

“You talking about the vampire/Vecna comment?” Eddie asked.

She blushed. “That’s one of them, yeah.”

“Is it really that outrageous that the Upside Down might have vampires?”

She paused and thought about it. She huffed a laugh. “No I suppose not.”

Getting your jock alone. Depending on their friend group this can either be very easy (offering to do something together that the rest of the friends don’t want to do) or very difficult (having friends that are willing to go outside their comfort zone to spend time with them).

“Steve must have been a hard one to get alone,” Max said.

“Very,” Eddie agreed. “And it wasn’t just people wanting to hang out with him, it was someone or several someones wanting rides. So I had to get get creative.”

Steve showed up the government funded house with Robin in tow.

“Buckley,” he greeted warmly. “I didn’t realize you were coming, too. I only got stuff for two of us.”

Steve blushed. “We looked up the movie at work and she thought it sounded interesting. I guess I should have called before we came over.”

Robin on the other hand looked unapologetic. “It’s fine, I brought my own goodies!” She held up a bag of Twizzlers and a bottle of soda.

Eddie sighed and let them both in. He put in the movie and sat in the middle of the sofa, forcing Robin and Steve to sit on either side.

“Why do you get the middle?” Robin asked.

“My house, therefore I get the best seat,” Eddie said smugly.

Steve looked around him to look at Robin in the eye. “He’s got a point, Robs. Plus, we did surprise him with your presence.”

Robin rolled her eyes and settled into watch the movie.

Eddie had seen it before so there weren’t even anything so much as a thrill, but Robin had her hands in front of her face, fingers spread so that she close them in a hurry if she needed to.

What Eddie loved was when Steve jumped twice. Because each time he jumped, he got closer to Eddie. By the time the ominous warning came at the end he was practically glued to Eddie’s side.

“Nope, nope, nope...” Robin said. “Never again. I don’t even like old horror, I’ve decided.”

Eddie shrugged. “I mean I was assuming that Steve and I were going to watch it together and he was going to preview it for you. Like he usually does.”

Robin’s jaw dropped as she looked at a smug Eddie and a Steve that had “I told you so” written all over his face. It wasn’t mocking or cruel.

She crumpled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have crashed your movie night. It was mean and apparently stupid. I won’t be doing that again, that’s for sure.”

“How the hell did Steve not recognize his own moves when thrown directly in his face?” Max asked, rolling her eyes.

“Obliviousness is their best trait after all,” Eddie teased. But the smile slid from his face. “With Steve?”

“Yes,” she said, realizing he was about to drop something deep about the boy she considered her brother.

“I think it’s because in all the time he’s dated, he’s never once been the one that got taken care of,” he murmured. “He’s had to shoulder all the emotional burden. So cuddling up on the sofa watching a scary movie didn’t register because he’s always watched those kind of movies alone first and never had someone to lean on when he got frightened.”

“That sucks,” she deadpanned. “I’m glad he has you, Eddie.”

“Me too,” he said softly. “Me too.”  

Now that you’ve established that there won’t be any further interference from the best friend, set up a regular time to do the activity. That way it becomes a routine that when asked if they’re doing something at that time, they’ll say they have plans.

“Come on, Steve,” Dustin said. “We want to go to the arcade today, they’re having a two-for-one special on pizza when you buy a game pass.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I told you have plans. Ask someone else.”

Dustin let out an exasperated sigh. “We did. We asked Eddie, but he has plans, too!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“You know, we call our jocks oblivious,” Max said, “but their friends can certainly be dense fuckers too.”

Eddie laughed. “I know, right?”

She shook her head. “Who did they think you had plans with?”

Eddie shrugged. “My bandmates would be my guess.”

“But then you would have said that,” she said exasperated. “Who did they think Steve had plans with?”

Eddie laughed.

“Robin will be fine if you don’t spend every waking moment with her,” Dustin continued, rolling his eyes. “When was the last time you went to the arcade with us?”

Steve’s other eyebrow shot up. “Last week, dude. And the week before that. I have plans. Both Mike and Will have siblings that drive. Hell, now that Argyle is back in town, I bet he would love to try out the arcade, he’s never been.”

Dustin looked leery. Steve threw his arms in the air and stormed over to the phone. He pulled the rolodex of party numbers that he kept on the counter closer to him and hit “A”. It went to Argyle’s number and he dialed it.

“Bro!” Argyle greeted.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” he said with a smile.

“My dude,” Argyle said cheerfully. “How can I help you on this fine fine day?”

“Hey, the kids wanted to go to the arcade today,” Steve explained, “But Eddie and I have plans, so I was wondering if you wanted to go. They have a special on pizza today and they wanted in on that.”

“You said the magic word, my dude!” Argyle said. “Pizza is my middle name. I just don’t know where the nugs live.”

“You know where I live, though, right?” Steve asked.

“Of course, man,” Argyle said with a grin. “Biiiig house. Hard to forget.”

Steve laughed. “You can pick Dustin up here and then he can direct you to the other ‘nugs’ houses.”

“Sounds totally awesome, my man!” Argyle said happily. “I’ll there in fifteen.”

Steve hung up and turned to Dustin with a raised eyebrow. “Now was that so difficult?”

Dustin sighed. “No...”

“I remember that!” Max said. “Argyle brought Jonathan and they were way more fun then with Steve because they didn’t try and mother hen us.”

Eddie laughed. “He just gets worried because he’s seen you guys in way too many situations that were literally life or death. It kinda skews things.”

Max clicked her tongue. “That’s fair.” She paused for a moment. “So we’ve established a routine, what’s next?”

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @this-is-mycrisis @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @artiststarme @steddie-there @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @thebrazilianatheist @rozzieroos @whalesharksart @mightbeasleep 

[papaver-decervicatus]

Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 6, Mouse Trapped

Now it's Mouse's turn in the hot seat after she is captured by Kortac. But, what if getting away is actually the worst thing that could happen?

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care, misogynistic comments

AN: Hello everyone! Wow, life has been a straight up doozy. Unfortunately, I ended up having to leave where I was because it was not safe and my whole life went on pause for a good 8 months while I was at my previous place. I just wanted to let everyone know how much this community means to me. At my absolute worst, believing I deserved the ways in which I was being hurt, I would look at all the lovely things people have said about my writing. I just wanted to take a moment to say, no one should be hit by a partner under any circumstance. If they tell you it was an accident, it was not if it happens multiple times, especially not if it happens repeatedly in the same way. It's hard to see when you're in it, but I promise you deserve better. No one should have to face public humiliation for how they dress from a partner. No one should be told that their trauma is inconvenient by a partner. If your partner ever says "I do not respect you, I don't even like you," please do not stay to try and make it work. Nothing you do can be enough for those people, but every single one of you liking/sharing/commenting/enjoying this story has shown me that I am enough. I am now safe, in my own apartment, free from that experience. And I want you to know, you all gave me an incredible amount of strength in ways I will never be able to repay you, so I may as well just update the damn story! But enough about me, lets get back to it! This chapter has been in editing for a literal year (whoops!). I hope the length, the angst, and the next two chapters make up for it!

Prev | Pt. 6, Mouse Trapped | 5.1k words | Next

The heavy footfalls echoing closer to her position in the compound throb in time with the blood pooling in Mouse’s wrists bound above her head. She hears them approaching with a certain determination that she’s sure unlike the dozens of other sets, these are determined to reach her. It’s only been three hours inside this dark-lit room in a KorTac black site. Her stakeouts are, at minimum, twice as long. Even so, her contorting muscles ache as she awaits her interrogator with bated breath and low hopes.

She’s gotten out of a lot of things over the years, getting into even more than she can remember. Everyone’s luck runs out, she won’t hold her breath this time. The footsteps stalk ever closer, and every nerve in her body alights in pure prey instinct. She wants to gnaw and chew and bite and scratch at whatever comes through that door, she wants to run or crawl or flee with every fiber of her being. She takes a desperate shuddering breath in and an equally labored breath out as the thundering steps stop somewhere behind her.

She must seem unaffected. Unfrightened. Uncaring. If she has any hope of getting one over on her captor. She will not even entertain the thought that she will get tortured.

The door behind her opens after a series of three, heavy, multi-spring locks, are undone. She can pick them later with the multitool she’s kept on her person, strapped on a hidden thigh garter beneath her pants. Each key has 7 pins, 21 pins total. She can crack one in 15 seconds if she’s smart about it. Locks will take under a minute total, adding that to the 23 seconds that it will take to undo her gear to get to the pick it-

The figure behind her does not move to get closer to her. Instead, it looms ominously behind her. The air in the room gains an otherworldly oppressiveness like the devil himself has just frozen her to her spot in the ninth layer of hell. Suddenly, she feels arctic cold as the locks all slide back into their places.

Trapped. She thinks, chewing at the inside of her lip.

The hulking mass behind her only takes one full step, and its back is now nearly flush with hers. Its head is somewhere much higher than her own. She feels the warmth of another person and she has to fight her animal instincts to get closer to it and beg for salvation. 

The figure takes an inordinate amount of time inspecting her holdings, crouching, craning, but never touching, around her confines. She studies the black wall in front of her with serious intent to remain composed. Its uniform smells distinctly of over-sanitation masking any human scent- likely the wearer so often got into bloodbaths that repeated cleanings have made the thing over-saturated with bleach. 

She lets out a stutter of breath when one massive hand reaches down to her shoulder. Despite her clothing and the tac gloves, the touch burns and she wants more.

“Guten abend. Wie get est ihnen?” König asks softly.

Only fucking König would ask how a captured prisoner was doing like he was asking his dinner date how her day was. 

I’m doing fucking shit, thanks for asking, King. She thinks.

He gets closer, bending down and nearly resting his chin on the opposing shoulder to where his hand dwarfs her entire shoulder blade. He is so close if she were to turn her head, she could nuzzle into the soft fabric of the hood that covers his face and spills onto her form. He is so close, that she can smell the remains of a cherry-flavored cigarette on his breath hidden behind the freshness of stringent aftershave and tea-tree hair oil above the nauseating smell of bleach from his uniform. He is so close she could bite his fingers and taste some of his blo-

“I asked you how you were doing, Maus.” He whispers her name with a false sweetness that makes her stomach flip. She steadies her traitorous heart with a fake huff.

“Hmm,” She hums, tossing her head playfully to the side where his hand is. Her cheek nearly rests on the course fabric of its covering. “I’d be doin’ much better not tied to the goddamn ceiling.”

She expects a sharp backhand for that one, or at the very least an amused refusal. To her infinite surprise, neither happens. The giant devil on her shoulder lets out a gentle chuckle and retracts his body, but not after a gentle squeeze to the sore muscles between her neck and arm.

“But of course, Fürstin.” He says, voice sweet as honey and laced with a smile she can taste behind the hood. She feels a massive hand tenderly embrace itself around her right wrist and she hears the hollow cla-chck of a knife being unsheathed. She stops studying the wall just in time to catch the glint of a knife cutting the paracord used to affix her to the metal hook above her head. He brings the 3 odd feet of now limp rope, along with her hand, to her left hand, but before he does anything “Lean back a little,” he says, and she does. She stops leaning back when her ass hits his thigh and she shudders with just how desperately fucked she is. He ties her right wrist to her still-hanging left wrist, both now not entirely above her head.

He tugs on his handiwork, and seemingly satisfied, he reaches down to put his arm without the knife in the crook behind her knees. He stills experimentally, anticipation practically dripping from his now motionless fingers. “Are you going to be a good girl?” He purrs, holding the knife tantalizingly close to the rope from which she is still hanging. She lets out an indignant puff of air.

“Only one way to find out, my majesty…” She purrs back.

She can feel his diaphragm rumble with a jovial ‘Mhmm’ that fades into a satisfied laugh in response. 

In one fluid motion, he cuts the remaining chord and she falls into his waiting arm. With the same grace she so admires on the battlefield, he swoops her into his arms in a bridal carry. She gasps tucked into his warm body. Yet again, his body shakes when he laughs at her little outburst. Her face flushes and once again as he gets onto his knees and gently deposits her onto the ground. 

The cold concrete of the floor digs through her tac pants as she sits sideways, König sits cross-legged in front of her. Her tied wrists lay in front of her body. She tries to catch her breath. He looks at her with some emotion she’s never seen in his eyes before, pupils dilated leaving only a thin, icy ring clinging to the bloodshot white. In the dimly lit room, she fails to catch her breath. 

He sighs looking at her hands. He puts his own up, palms to her as though promising a frightened prey animal he means no harm before he can pluck it from its trap. 

Without a word, he takes her bound hands in his and gently rubs at the purple flesh. 

And like a fool who believes in God, she unfurls her fisted hands into open palms facing the stars she cannot see as if in prayer. She doubts God could hear, or care for, her prayers in this futile box of a room with eyes on her the color of God, or at least a cloudless December sky.

If she’s praying by opening a vulnerability to him, it seems König prays back, the way he cradles her hands like he’s sculpting her out of clay. She’s infinitely thankful for his combat gloves in this intimate moment, full-on contact would be all too much to bear in this awful circumstance. His eyes smile as he regards their hands, a satisfied rumble somewhere in the front of his chest as the normal color returns to her flesh. 

“You need to be more careful, mein mauschen.” He says, looking at her like a prince looks at the portrait of a long-kidnapped princess. He regards her with the same care as a boy, growing up in a castle, deciding the portrait of a local maid girl, long locked up in a tower, will one day be his bride. His tone is whistful and tacitly anxious. Despite this, the implication of a smile does not leave his paradoxically fire-hot ice-blue eyes. 

She is more than capable as a soldier, as a tactician, as a sniper. She has gotten into and out of traps just like this one before, and really, when Gromsko needed cover to patch Reyes up in the field, she didn’t really think about going to help. Out of her depth, she still ran at the chance to abandon her post in the hopes of helping others, a decision that had her snatched and thrown into this little box with the thing she both runs from and to in equal measure. 

If it were anyone else, she would yell and spit and cuss about how she can do it. She’s done it on her own. She’s a sniper for Christ’s sake! She’s supposed to do it on her own, she doesn’t need any pity cover. She’s capable. She doesn’t need some surly giant telling her what to do. 

“I’m sorry.” Is what Mouse says. 

Because it’s not anyone else. 

It’s König.

König, who has risked his life to save hers more times than she can count. König who tells her awful jokes in the dead of her shift to cheer her up. König who prays in the shape of her callsign gauged into soft birch wood. König who has never once doubted her abilities as a tactician and a sniper or talked down to her for it. König who keeps her company from far away and promises to always come back. 

König who looks at her like she is worth the world, König who treats her like a princess more than an enemy soldier. 

König, who she’s set free from this exact position before. König, who may just be her knight in shining armor. König, whose hands have yet to leave her wrists in his quiet supplication, fingers whispering apologies for what others have done. 

“Nein.” He tuts, voice soft and reverent, hands now retreating from hers. “I am sorry,” he confidently, if quietly, declares, eyes still affixed to her battered flesh like his stare could undo any damage done. “I should not have let them capture you. It is my fault.”

He’s not her keeper. He’s not her knight in shining armor. Hell, he’s not even her fucking comrade, he’s on the other side of this pointless war and he’s got the nerve to apologize and take blame for her situation? She wants to rip the words out of his mouth, angry and sorrowful all at once that he’s taken any responsibility for her well-being. 

Instead of the things she wants to shout at him, she stays quiet. She knows better than to correct her captor, all too aware of the distinct power dynamic in the little interrogation room she’s in. This is still war. He is still her captor. There is nothing to be done here. 

She sighs. 

“Don’t do anything stupid on my behalf.” She whispers, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like a trapped animal begging a child not to get attached in case the glue is too strong. After everything, she’s gotten quite the soft spot for the man, she would hate to get his hands messy while trying to free her. (Despite the fact that he’s done so, many times before.) 

He chuckles, eyes everywhere but hers. He’s begun to rap-tappa-tap at his thighs with his fingers, a tell she’s come to notice is his way of thinking while anxious. 

“It is too late for that.” Their eyes meet and at once she understands. 

Because I know you’d do the same for me, her own words echo in her head. She swallows building trepidation rising in her chest like the tide. Just how is he planning on keeping true to such a promise? 

“This is quite the mood shift from the last time we saw each other,” she gives a pitiful little giggle to him. At once his eyes alight with some sort of silent battle, a war of wills is waged in an instant. Ice-cold-fever-hot eyes narrow menacingly at her. 

“I hate seeing you trapped.” He says, and her heart, whatever doesn’t reside in his chest already, lodges itself thick and pulsing in her throat. Mouse blinks away confused tears, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeved shoulders. 

She has nothing to say to that. She thinks about the tears she cried in the shower when she realized his mark in her was fading. She thinks about warming her cold fingers pressed into her thighs all night, imagining instead he was warming her hands. She thinks about his teeth proudly displayed on her neck. She thinks about his hands holding her down. She thinks about the solid expanse of his chest as he promises her the world. She counts every joke he’s ever told her like the faithful count prayer beads. She clings to this idea of him like fog clings to a mountainside, ever-present and yet intangible. 

She throws these ideas deep buried into her subconscious, trying desperately to call any sense to mind. Fear settles back into the forefront of her mind, confusion taking a backseat. She worries about how to get out of here- without König getting harmed. 

“What’s the plan?” She whispers. 

“What? Not going to talk me out of it?” He laughs voice thick with sad irony. 

“I’m not looking a gift- soldier? In the mouth.” She sighs. 

He looks thoughtfully down at her hands and wrists that he’s still holding. He pulls in a rough breath and it hisses out through his teeth. 

“You’re in luck. It’s a shift change. It’ll be…” he lets go of her hands and fully stands. He peers down at her through tragically thick, romantic lashes, he’s very nearly almost charming the way he regards her from on high. Almost being the key term as his stare turns cold and he squints down at her. “Messy.” He settles on. “If you’re coming, don’t delay now.” He holds out a hand to help her up. 

And what choice does she really have? Stuck in this room, always minutes away from death, with only one plan of even halfway reasonable escape- she takes his hand. 

And they dash.

This is not a thought-out affair like Mouse’s rescue of Konig had been. This is quick, it’s sloppy, and it’s not really romantic. He’s tugging hard on her arm doing his best to make her keep his pace as they dash through empty hallways- occasionally taking an unorthodox passageway to, maybe?, avoid camera surveillance. Konig doesn’t say anything as they twist and turn through the labyrinth, he just picks her up or seizes her shoulders if he wants her to stop. To his credit, it works, and ice-cold adrenaline runs through her spine every time he grabs her with enough force to hurt her if he just wanted to. 

But he doesn’t, doesn’t hurt her, doesn’t get sloppy so they get caught, doesn’t do a damned thing except run with her hand in his through the dim hallways, lit exclusively with blood red signs denoting “EXIT”, “ARMORY”, “M-D BA-“ (apparently KorTac does not give enough of a shit about the med bay sign to have it replaced), and anything else worthy of note- which is to say just about jack and shit, respectively. 

What feels like miles of corridors passes her in quiet seconds- flashes of what her mind could construe as pictures and memories whirl by, her only true anchor to know where she’s been and where she will be in the direction that Konig pulls her through the labrynth. 

He breathes as heavy as an ox when they come to a hallway cut-out in front of a little station where a lone man plays solitaire on the table. He casually picks at his teeth with a knife as he thumbs through his discard pile, nonchalant to the peril he will certainly be in should Konig decide to take exception with the man. 

Konig pushes Mouse’s shoulders down so that she’s kneeling, and her bones hit the floor with a heavy clack. Konig shouts “Was is das?” as he yanks her up roughly. The man at the table discards his cards and rushes up, coincidentally leaving his knife on the table. 

Betrayed? He’s fucking betraying me? Mouse’s mind races as she tries to think of a single reason Konig would abandon her in the hands of another man, one that sees her as a prisoner no less, and she has half the mind to bite his dick off where she stands in incensed anger. She’s too dumbstruck to even attempt a fight when Konig takes the rope she’d 

“Lieutenant. I caught this one escaping.” Konig states sternly to the man who comes over to check the now kneeling Mouse. 

The unnamed man looks her over, the arms of a behemoth holding her down, and he graces her with a sardonic grin. 

Prey,

Prey,

Prey, 

I am prey. 

“Oh, so it’s this one… If I remember correctly,” the man says, laughing over her trembling form, “she’s quite the war prize.” König’s grip on her shoulders, holding her prone on the cold concrete, tightens just a little.

“She got out of her confines, I’m moving her.” He says with all the authority of a man given the mandate of heaven.

“Say, Colonel,” the man speaks, and Mouse only registers for half a second that is König’s rank before she meets his gaze. Only his eyes are visible from his plain baklava. They look hungry, but not quite the same way König’s ice-cold eyes receive her image. He looks at her like he’s planning on taking one bite. König’s breath stutters as the man comes closer and attempts to touch her face. König yanks her up before he gets the chance, hands pinned behind her back. 

“Could I convince you to give me, oh say, I don’t know… half an hour with her? I can’t imagine the ransom or intel would be worth any more than her cu-”

Mouse promptly headbutts the man square in the nose, and blood sprays on the nearest wall as she fights out of König’s grip to get a better chance at knocking the man unconscious. He reaches for a throwing knife somewhere in his pocket and he brandishes the blade towards her face and she almost entirely dodges the quick glint of silver aimed at her neck. She feels a shallow cut on her cheek but she doesn’t stop thrashing. He sputters with rage and tries to say something but only frothed red liquid comes out of his mouth. König laughs mercilessly, still restraining her fighting against his grip, kicking and screaming in barbaric rage at the audacity of this man. Without missing a beat, König grabs the man’s hand with the wildly swinging knife and she hears the acrid cra-ckkk of bone splintering in flesh. He screams in pain and his eyes well with tears streaming down his bloodied mouth.

“She bites.” Is all König says before he plunges the man’s knife between his ribs. He drops the knife and grabs her hand, fingers sticky and intertwined. He looks at her with the most romantic sincerity imaginable, cold eyes smiling after just having killed a man over her honor. 

The blood everywhere is almost killing the mood.

The key word is almost and suddenly Mouse is thankful that König’s strides are twice the length of hers because she doesn’t have time to consider the way his thumb gently strokes her hand. The way he was all too happy to kill a man for even considering hurting her. The way his frigid stare thaws for a moment when he looks back at her, suddenly warm like a sunny afternoon in May, enveloping her body like a soft bed of straw, safely tucked away in someone’s barn.

They escape through some back exit and he holds her up by the hips as she scrambles over the chainlink fence with all the skill of a veteran climber. Before she can chastise him for what is obviously a bit more of an amorous touch than is necessary, she hears gunfire behind her as her feet hit the ground on the other side of the fence. Three shots, then one from König, and silence. 

He scales the wall and hits the ground with a slight grunt. She can’t hear what he says, the ringing in her ears (whether from the gunshots or his close presence) obscures it, but she gets the memo as he grabs her hand again. They run for what feels like another 2 miles through as the world alights around them. The leaves on the forest floor go from grey to beautiful shades of thousands of different coffees, all with differing amounts of milk to the taste of their owners. The evergreen trees gradually grow greener and greener with every passing moment.

She hears a little twig crack and she stops dead in her tracks. König stops, too. 

The coo of a solitary mourning dove sounds. The creature looks at the two starcrossed escapees with an odd knowing before it takes off from the ground, leaves scattering behind its tailwind.

And suddenly, the world takes its first breath in pale, premorning light.

And it’s quiet.

“We’re even, now.” She says, standing in the forest outside of the base. She breathes in the smell of rotting leaves and blood and gunpowder with more thanks than she ever has in her life. 

König doesn’t respond. In the morning sunlight, he studies her with a renewed vigor. His worried gaze settles on a bleeding cut on her cheek, the one dripping into her mouth ever so slightly. She licks at the blood idly, his eyes widen and he looks away hurriedly. 

He gives an anxious sigh and a curt soldier’s nod. 

She watches him with her own newfound sense of dismay as he rifles around his pockets for something. 

She stops breathing.

Her heart slides clean out of her chest when he presents the minuscule thing in his massive hand. He holds his- no, her- whetstone to her, in a flat palm facing upwards. 

Her breath does not return to her lungs even when her eyes prickle with tears. 

Is he saying goodbye?

What little she can see of König’s face furrows more desperately as she stares down at the offending gift like it was a decapitated rat that the cat brought in. 

“It’s yours.” Is the explanation he lands on after an eternity of silence. The sun is rising, nothing is certain, they cannot be using whatever fleeting seconds they have wasted on goodbyes. He must know this, he stares at her nearly ready to get on his knees and beg her- for what? She doesn’t know. She thought he would beg for her but the key to that hope died in the shape of that little pouch that holds her soul in it. 

“No. It’s yours.” No, I’m yours. Her weak voice wavers, like a leaf fluttering about until it inevitably hits the ground. 

She doesn’t give him the time to think out whatever stupid thing he wants to for allowing her to get hurt as she launches herself around his shoulders. 

König nearly stumbles backward as her arms wrap around his neck. On instinct, he grabs at her sides to hold her up in the air and prevent them from crashing back into the earth. Even if he weren’t, she’s sure she’d feel like she was floating, locked in a warm embrace like a scar holds the memory of a cut. 

She loves him more than she can stand, and as ever cruel and ever-giving Fortune would have it, he is more than happy to hold her up. She clings to him as she clings to the trees she climbs for her vantage points. In the rising sky, she remembers the ravine. She wants to forever be caught in his eyes but not his arms, because she does not know how she will ever be warm again without his embrace. She wants to scream and hit him and cut his chest open instead of pulling away, she wants to enact violence on his person for daring to make her love him, for his audacity in caring for her, for his everything. It would be so much easier if he didn’t care if one of them died if she didn’t have to think about what came next. 

She shakes with fury. 

She is so sick of following orders. Of listening to men telling her what to do. Of re-tracing the line between duty and desire. Of contextualizing and rationalizing everything she does on the axis of “me” and “my orders” 

But most of all, she’s miserable that she can’t break out of her battle line no matter how hard she tries. She wants König to just tell her to stay, to give her the order so she doesn’t have to decide if she wants it, and all the implication of what that means for her fucked up obsession with him. She wants the easy out, she doesn’t want the blame. She wants him to figure it out. She wants him to tell her to stay. 

He says nothing, he just breathes deeply, like she is air and like she matters to keep tethered to him. Like there’s anything worthy in her. Like she’s important. It only makes her angrier to think he’s so gentle when she wants to tear through his flesh and climb inside his rib cage instead of being forced to say goodbye. 

She gives one last shuddering breath before she unwinds her sore hands from the anchor of his strong shoulders. 

“You’ve saved me,” she whispers, wrenching her way out of his equally mournful grasp. He shudders, holding her tighter. 

“No, you’ve saved me,” he whispers back into her ear. She doesn’t know what that means but she figures she doesn’t want to know when his massive hand finds the weak spot between her neck and shoulder and starts soothing little circles into it. She thrashes violently against the little spell he scries into her skin. She wants to stay. She wants to go. She wants him. She wants to be wanted by him. She doesn’t know what to do with a heart full of foreign wants and no direct orders to follow, so she thrashes out of his grip with all the ferocity of a mouse about to snap its neck getting out of a trap. 

After a moment more of thrashing, he drops her to the ground. 

Her fingers linger in his as she untwists her body from his, dancing away in the dying leaves. Their hands are connected even after the embrace. His warmth haunts her the same way the cold side of the bed haunts a widow, his eyes sting the same way a rusty cut does. 

With the last of her willpower, she finally takes herself from him but the look he gives her makes her sure he understands: she could never go anywhere that doesn’t end with him. She gave him the whetstone that sharpened the knife that gave her the scar, and now some part of her will always be a result of his action. The blood loss isn’t helping her scattered thoughts and she’s only reminded of her worn-out physical condition when more blood leaks into her waiting mouth, soft lips parted and waiting for him to say something, anything. 

“Promise you’ll find me?” She asks, soft and fragile, waiting for the world she’s placed on his shoulders to shrug to the ground and shatter into millions of pieces. 

“Always, Mäuschen.” He replies, quiet and reverent, like he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it work, but equally cannot imagine a world in which it doesn’t. 

She runs back to her base in the early morning light, sprinting like a nymph on a war-hunt through the trees, escaping an ill-fated encounter with an undesired suitor. Except it’s quite the opposite, she feels her heart beak with every hollow footstep she makes, unparalleled by his own sprinting after her. 

She runs away, but her heart stays in his pocket, in the shape of a little whetstone. 

She cries the whole way back. When she collapses on her bed after her debrief she imagines his hands messaging hers (and other things…) and his arms pressing her to him like he might fall apart the second he lets go. She thinks about the smell of him- like salty sweat and spruce aftershave and stinging tea tree. She bundles herself into the covers and prays that when she wakes up, she will have wound herself into his embrace and not just some discarded cloth around her body and separating her legs.

Her bed is impossibly big, and she wakes from it all hours of the night, hands not able to reach its edges like they never have before. The sheets are a paradoxical limbo of desperation: simultaneously as cold as a glacier and hotter than a forest fire. She dreams she’s stuck in a burning house until the roof caves from the animated flames and a blizzard pummels her into the wreckage. 

From the nothing, two massive hands grip at her fragile sides and hold her up. She stills in the protective grasp of something the size of a mountain, it whispers the sound of a radio in her ear. She sinks into it and wakes gasping, only to realize she’s been asleep for not even half an hour and the dream repeats when she wrestles whatever fitful rest she can out of the nighttime. Each time she wakes up, tears stream down her cheeks. 

She cries. 

Because she’s not home. She will never be home, not if he’s not there. 

Mouse is free to do anything she pleases. Unbound, untrapped, and unburdened, in theory, nothing hinders her. 

In reality, she’s already dead somewhere in the trap of cold blue eyes, sharp knives, and strong arms.

It does not matter that she has been the one chased. Now there is nowhere he could ever go without the largest part of her carried with him.

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