#but had no space to finish it until this evening

[iconbyunghun]

first time

Pairing: Lee Byung Hun x virgin!reader

Summary: After a failed attempt to take the step into intimacy with your beloved boyfriend, you finally feel confident enough to give yourself to him. He couldn’t long for anything more than making you feel desired and showing you how amazing making love can be.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (early-20s/50s), virginity loss, oral (fem receiving)

Word count: 3.9 k

a/n: I wish I had more time during the week to finish my drafts (work and adult life sucks) :( so this is one of them. I tried to make it kinda fluff, but I’m not sure if I succeeded.

From the beginning, sincerity was the foundation of your relationship with Byung Hun. Despite the significant age difference, the chemistry between you made everything flow wonderfully during the six months you had been together. You loved being able to talk to him about anything, sharing your doubts and concerns, and feeling how his maturity and experience always had the perfect answer for everything. But, although you never hid anything from each other, there was one topic that, up until that point, had never been addressed.

Intimacy.

It wasn't a lack of desire. You felt it in the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice, in the way his hands lingered a little longer on your skin, in how his kisses, at certain moments, became more demanding. And, of course, you weren’t oblivious to how attractive he was—his presence, his gaze, the tone of his voice—he was every woman’s dream.

The breaking point came one night after you attended an event as his guest. When it ended, he suggested going to his apartment, and there, with a few glasses of wine in your system, you both let yourselves be carried away by the rhythm of your lips meeting. His jacket ended up on the floor as he positioned himself over you, supporting his weight on his knees and his left arm beside your head. Without breaking the kiss, he deepened it, making it more intense. Your hands, tangled in his hair, gave him gentle squeezes as his free hand slid down your thigh, caressing your skin before slipping under your dress. He smiled against your lips as his fingertips brushed against your warm, damp center, confident that you were ready for him.

And suddenly, you broke the kiss—and the moment. The instant you felt him move your underwear aside and attempt to slide a finger inside you, you snapped out of the trance immediately. As a reflex, you tried to close your legs and pushed his shoulders with a startled gasp.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he gave you the space you seemed to need. He was worried he had done something wrong.

You curled your legs against your chest, resting your arms on your knees. Your face burned with embarrassment. You didn’t know how to explain it, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

Since you had started dating, you had thought about this topic many times. You had never had sex before, and it wasn’t something that had particularly interested you. Not until you started your relationship. You knew he was experienced and that, at some point, he would expect to take that step with you, as any couple would.

In your limited romantic experience, you had never gone beyond kissing and a few touches with an ex. Most of your friends had already done it, and from listening to their stories—almost always disastrous—you couldn’t help but feel a certain aversion to the idea of being naked, exposed, and vulnerable in front of someone else.

Even if that person was your beloved boyfriend, someone who loved you devotedly and would never hurt you, you simply needed more time to feel safe.

"I-I’m sorry..." was all you could say before rebellious tears welled up in your eyes.

Byung Hun, still trying to understand the situation, shifted on the couch and focused his attention on you. Feeling a pang in his chest at seeing you so vulnerable, he lifted a hand to gently stroke your face and wipe away your tears.

"Baby, you don’t have to apologize for anything," he said softly, searching for clues in your gaze.

The lump in your throat grew bigger. You felt like a fool for not being able to do something so “normal” and for not even being able to explain it without breaking down in tears.

"I-I’ve never..." You bit your lip, searching for the right words. "I’ve never done it... and I don’t want you to think I don’t want to, but I need more time..."

Covering your face with your hands, you rested your forehead on your knees. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

Byung Hun raised his eyebrows, surprised, and then he understood everything. He felt bad for assuming you already had experience.

"Sweetheart, I’m the one who should be apologizing," he said tenderly, taking your arms and pulling you into his embrace. "Come here."

With gentle movements, he slid one hand along your back and the other under your thighs, effortlessly guiding you onto his lap. Wrapping his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You curled up against his chest, feeling his warmth envelop you completely.

"I should have been more mindful of this. You don’t have to feel bad."

For a moment, the thought that he might love you a little less for not giving in scared you, but his warm embrace and words of understanding dispelled that fear.

"Doesn’t it bother you to wait a little longer?" you asked in a trembling voice. "I... I don’t want you to get tired of me..."

He let out a soft chuckle before placing another kiss on your head, lingering there for a few seconds as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair.

"Sweetheart, I’m completely in love with you," he said seriously. "I want it to be special for you when it feels right."

That night, you fell asleep in his arms, letting his warmth surround you.

After that, the topic was never brought up again. You both continued with your routine, but the thought lingered more persistently in your mind.

You started analyzing your body in the mirror after showering, wondering if he would like you enough, if you were attractive enough when fully exposed. The thoughts forming in your head told you no—not when he had been with stunning models and actresses you could never compare to—and that only discouraged you more.

You searched for information online, though it wasn’t the most reliable source, but you didn’t have the confidence to ask a friend about your doubts. Most advice said that to avoid discomfort, your partner should prepare you well and that you should know your own body. You wondered what they meant by "knowing yourself better." It wasn’t as if you had never masturbated before, but it wasn’t something habitual for you. And now, when you tried following the advice, you only ended up frustrated—rather than letting the sensation flow, you just felt stressed.

Byung Hun, for his part, made sure not to make you uncomfortable again. His touches were completely innocent: his hugs purely comforting, accompanied by kisses on your cheek, forehead, and soft pecks on your lips.

You started sleeping over at his place more often, which allowed you to spend more time together. Even if your schedules didn’t always align during the day, you could always see each other for breakfast, lunch, and, without fail, at night to rest.

That Sunday night, as had become routine, you two picked—or rather, you picked—a movie to watch before bed.

"Are you paying attention?" you asked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend.

He smiled before placing a soft kiss on your temple.

"It’s Twilight, baby. I don’t think I need one hundred percent of my focus to understand it," he teased, earning a light slap from you on his shoulder.

You laughed, adjusting yourself slightly before returning your attention to the movie, which was nearing its end. Both of you were curled up in bed, the sheets covering half of your bodies. He was dressed in pajama pants and a white T-shirt, while you wore a silk top with thin straps and matching shorts—ones he had gifted you. Your head rested on his left arm while his other arm wrapped around you, holding you close.

His fingers began to trace barely-there caresses on the exposed skin of your abdomen. At first, it seemed like an unconscious gesture, but you noticed. The sensation became hypnotic, completely capturing your attention. Suddenly, you became more aware of the heat of his body against yours, of his masculine scent enveloping you—intoxicating and consuming.

Almost without thinking, you pressed yourself closer to him. The movement made his touch stop, leaving you with a subtle sense of emptiness. Your gaze slides sideways toward his face. He seems focused on the end of the movie. The dim light from the TV casts shadows over his features. His hair was longer now—at your request—and you loved how a few strands fell over his forehead. His glasses, always present, gave him an intellectual air you adored. His strong jawline and well-defined nose were the perfect combination, and when he ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them, the simple gesture sparked something inside you that you hadn’t felt before.

Without thinking too much, you placed your hand on his chest in a casual attempt to get his attention. His eyes lowered until they met yours, and a smile formed on his lips.

"Everything okay, princess?" he asked curiously.

You didn’t say anything. You simply leaned in and brushed your lips against his in a soft kiss. Your hand moved up to his cheek, and he responded immediately, returning the gesture with the same tenderness.

He leaned slightly over you, shifting his weight carefully as his lips moved over yours with patience, exploring you without rush. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and noticing your breath fogging them up, he took them off with a smile before setting them on the nightstand. You took the opportunity to grab the remote and pause the movie just as the credits started rolling. The dim light from the screen was the only thing illuminating you both.

His attention returned to you. He leaned in, his lips barely inches from yours. Your hand found his cheek again, caressing him in a silent invitation.

“We're feeling affectionate tonight, huh?” His tone was playful.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Yes, you were fully aware of your need for contact that night, but you didn’t need him to make it so obvious.

“Shut up…” you whispered, giving him a light smack on the cheek, which made him laugh.

“Sorry,” he murmured before kissing you again.

This time, his lips moved slower, deeper, making you want more. Your tongue barely grazed his upper lip, and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him. He felt the warmth spread inside him. He understood your silent permission, and without hesitation, let his tongue explore the kiss with more intensity. A muffled moan escaped your lips as he invaded your mouth, the touch of your tongues sending electric currents through your body.

His hand settled on your waist before naturally sliding over your skin. You felt it slip under your pajama top, and a shiver ran through you as his palm cupped your breast, squeezing it gently. A gasp left your lips when his thumb brushed over your nipple, hardening it.

The pleasure took you by surprise, making you break the kiss as you tried to catch your breath. He stopped immediately, his eyes searching for approval in your flustered expression.

"Sorry, I got carried away…" he admitted, his voice deeper, huskier than usual. He withdrew his hand gently, bringing it to your cheek, caressing you tenderly.

But frustration filled you. You didn’t want him to stop. Yes, there was a flicker of fear in the back of your mind, but at that moment, your body craved his touch more than anything.

“Byung Hun…” his name slipped from your lips in a whisper, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guided it back to your chest. “I want you to continue.”

Your voice was a little firmer now, and he searched your face for any sign of hesitation. “Baby, you know we’ll only go as far as you want, right?”

You nodded, and he sighed in relief. He didn’t want you to feel any pressure.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again.

This time, when his hand slipped under your pajama, it moved with confidence. His thumb traced slow circles over your nipple, and your muffled moans were swallowed by his mouth.

And you felt it. His hardness against you, even through the fabric, his hips unconsciously pushing against your center, sending a wave of pleasure through you. You knew that if you wanted to stop, now was the time. But your body responded instinctively—your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Baby, I need you to help me with this…” he murmured against your lips, grasping the hem of your pajama.

You hesitated for a second, and with a slow breath, you sat up and pulled the garment over your head, but as you lay back down, your arms instinctively crossed over your chest. Byung Hun remained on his knees, watching you with desire.

“I think we should be in the same conditions,” you muttered, noticing that he was still dressed.

“Well, that seems fair,” he replied with a nod before pulling his shirt over his head and letting it drop to the bedroom floor.

Your eyes roamed over his bare chest, down his torso, following the faint veins disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. His body still held its athletic definition, and you were completely captivated by the sight.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll be the embarrassed one,” he teased.

Your gaze returned to his face, finding him with an amused expression. He loved seeing you like this—expectant, eager. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about being the first man to have you. He wanted to show you how good making love could feel and ensure you never forgot your first time.

He placed his hands on your thighs, caressing them softly before leaning down to press a kiss on the inside of each. Then, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your abdomen, he began trailing small kisses along your skin.

His hands reached the waistband of your silk shorts, slowly sliding them down as his kisses followed the path. He left a lingering one at the top edge of your underwear.

“No… you don’t have to…” your voice trembled slightly with nervousness, stopping him.

He looked up at you and pressed a final kiss to your stomach. “Baby, if you want this to be easier, you have to let me prepare you.”

You wondered how he could speak so naturally while you could barely nod. But you trusted him.

“Okay…” you whispered. And you mentally thanked yourself for always keeping that area bare for comfort.

He placed another kiss just below your navel before sitting up and, with both hands, slid your shorts and panties down together. You lifted your hips slightly and then your legs to help him remove them completely.

When he tossed the garment aside and looked at you again, he swallowed hard.

The sight before him was sublime—you were naked and completely exposed to him. Your arms instinctively tried to cover your chest, your legs remained pressed together, and your skin burned with a blush he wasn’t sure was from heat or embarrassment. He didn’t know if paradise existed, but he had an angel right in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He reached out, parting your legs and settling between them. A stifled moan escaped your throat as you felt his heavy breath against your most sensitive area. His grip on your thighs was firm, his eyes gleaming with hunger as he took in the glistening evidence of your arousal.

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan—but it was useless. The moment his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along your center, working its way up to your clit, a shudder ran through your body. He groaned softly against you, savoring your taste like a drug that left him craving more. His tongue moved with precision, teasing and exploring, while your breathless moans filled the room.

When he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, your hands, which had been clutching the sheets, shot up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responded eagerly, his mouth devouring you as if you were the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. He sucked on your most sensitive spot, making you arch against him, and when you tugged at his hair in desperation, he only groaned in approval, the vibrations making your whole body tremble.

Lowering his mouth, he let his tongue glide down to your entrance while his fingers gathered your wetness. A shiver coursed through you as he pressed them gently against you.

“Fuck… you taste so damn sweet,” he murmured against your core before slowly easing two of his long, thick fingers inside you.

Your body tensed at the new sensation, but he kept you distracted, his tongue never ceasing its movements. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sliding in and out, curling slightly to brush against a spot inside you that made your thighs tremble. He spread his fingers just enough to stretch you, coaxing your body to open up for him.

The pleasure built quickly, a tight coil forming in your stomach. His free hand rested on your lower abdomen, feeling the way your body quivered beneath his touch. Your hips instinctively began to move in time with him, chasing the mounting pleasure. His mouth latched onto your clit once more, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue with fervor. His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deeper, and then—

A sharp, blissful tremor surged through you as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling you under.

“B-Byung Hun,” you moaned, his name escaping your lips as he licked and kissed you through the aftershocks of your release. Your chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, your body still tingling in the aftermath.

“My sweet princess,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet adoration. You slowly opened your eyes, finding him hovering above you, his face mere inches from yours. Your gaze drifted to his lips—swollen and glistening from his efforts.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, still trying to steady your breathing. “Y-yeah… that was incredible,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfaction flashed across his features, pride evident in the way he smirked. “Give me a second,” he murmured before pulling away and standing up.

Your legs still trembled as you watched him cross the room, his broad back a perfect view. He rummaged through a drawer in the closet before turning back toward you, a small silver packet in his hand. Your eyes widened slightly. He had condoms here?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “At some point, we were going to do this, so I had to be prepared.”

There was nothing hesitant in the way he carried himself. He was calm, confident, utterly sure of what was about to happen. Standing beside the bed, his gaze roamed your body as he reached for the waistband of his pants. Without another word, he let them drop to the floor.

Your breath hitched.

Even through the fabric of his boxers, you could see how hard he was. The sight sent a new rush of heat through you.

Climbing back onto the bed, he knelt between your legs. With deliberate slowness, he slid his boxers down, freeing his length. Your stomach clenched at the sheer size of him. This was definitely going to hurt.

Tearing open the silver packet, he rolled the condom down his length with practiced ease. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

Noticing your gaze, he let out a small laugh and cleared his throat to get your attention. He winked at you, amusement and desire shining in his eyes.

“We’ll take it slow,” he assured, his voice raspy. “But if you want me to stop at any point, just say the word.”

You nodded. “I trust you.”

A slow, reassuring smile tugged at his lips before he shifted closer. One hand slid between your thighs, fingers gliding along your oversensitive folds, while the other guided himself to your entrance. He brushed against you, coating himself in your arousal before pushing in—just the tip at first.

A sharp, stinging sensation made you gasp, your fingers digging into his arms. He immediately leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck, his lips soft and soothing against your skin.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Taking me so well.”

He pushed in deeper, inch by inch, letting you adjust. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to relax, feeling every stretch of him as he buried himself to the hilt.

A low, guttural groan left his lips. “Fuck… you feel so, so good.”

The tremor in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core, making your walls tighten around him. His arms trembled slightly from holding back, from trying not to lose himself in the overwhelming heat of you.

You swore you had never heard anyone sound so damn sexy in your life.

“Please… keep going,” you whispered.

You gasped as your body gradually adjusted to his intrusion, the discomfort melting away into something deeper, more intoxicating.

He started with slow, careful movements, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm. His lips found yours, swallowing your soft moans as your hands clung to the back of his neck. Little by little, the lingering pain faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that built with each thrust.

A particularly sharp moan tore from your lips when he hit a precise spot inside you, making your vision blur with white-hot pleasure. You needed more.

“Go… go faster,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

Byung Hun didn’t hesitate. Almost instantly, he picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, of breathless moans and the sheer bliss of being completely filled for the first time.

Your walls tightened around him, the pressure almost unbearable. He knew you were close—so was he. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cum for me, baby,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with desire, before trailing wet kisses down your neck. That was all the stimulation you needed, his name slipping from your lips in a breathy moan

“You’ve done so fucking good,” he panted. With one last ragged breath and a few uneven thrusts, he spilled into the condom, his body trembling against yours.

His breathing was still uneven as he carefully pulled out, disposing of the used condom before collapsing beside you. Without a word, he wrapped you in his arms, your overheated bodies molding together in a lazy, intimate embrace.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he shifted onto his back, pulling you onto his chest. The tension in your body slowly unraveled, replaced by a warmth that settled deep in your bones.

Still floating on the lingering high of pleasure, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, your breathing slowing as sleep crept in.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with adoration as his fingers traced lazy patterns down the curve of your back.

A sleepy smile ghosted your lips as you nuzzled closer. “I love you too,” you whispered against his skin, before surrendering to the pull of sleep.

[rosegolden13]

Hardware store owner!John Price drabble <3

He’s on his smoke break in his office in the back, window open to let in the cool evening breeze and let out the stink of cigar. Store’s been slow today, but that’s no surprise for a random weekday.

Gaz and Soap are messing around out front, their voices carrying into his office from the cracked open door. No doubt they’re playing their makeshift version of floor hockey with a roll of duct tape as a puck and the yard sticks as sticks. Normally, he’d tell them off, but with no customers in, he let them have their fun. It would be closing time soon anyways.

The mechanical ring signalling the arrival of a customer is familiar enough that he tunes it out entirely. It isn’t until that sweet chirping filters through his door that he finds the need to immediately tap out his barely finished cigar, despite the fact that both Gaz and Soap are free to help you. Those muppets don’t know about the leaky sink you’ve been struggling with or the marigolds you’re desperate to help bloom. He needs to be there. It’s only reasonable.

His pace quickens a bit when he hears how your voice seems to be laced with anxiety, words spilling into one another. By the time he gets to the front, Soap has got his palms up, clearly trying to placate you like you’re a spooked horse. 

“Poison?! I-I don’t want to kill them!” You’re wringing your hands, stress palpable, as your bracelets clash against one another on your wrist. And this is what he’s been waiting for since you last came in, another chance to help his favorite girl.

Gaz is moving towards you as if to reach out a hand to place on your arm, but before he can, John’s heavy hand is on your shoulder, standing just behind you. “I’ve got this one, boys. Start cleaning up for me, will ya?”

Gaz and Soap exchange knowing smirks as they head off with a simple “sure thing, cap’n” and a “you got it, Price”. You’re looking up at him and he has to fight back the rush of pride that flows through him when he catches the relief in your expression. 

His thumb absently runs over the fabric of your flowy pink top, feeling your warmth through the thin fabric. “What’s the problem, doll? Never seen ya worked up like this.”

“John, oh, thank God. There’s mice in my attic- a whole family of them. I really wouldn’t mind, but there’s droppings everywhere. Animal control told me to call the exterminator. But I couldn’t live with myself if I had to- They’re only looking for a warm place to stay!” The words are a rush from your glossed lips, his hand rubbing over your shoulder the whole time and then squeezing gently once you’re done. 

God, you’re adorable. This passionate over the lives of a few woodland critters. He’s never flinched at bloodshed, but he’s not one for needless killing either, especially of anything as small and helpless as some mice.

His smile is patient as he looks down at you. “No exterminator necessary. I’ll handle ‘em for ya, lovie. Got a few humane traps I can set up for ya, free of charge. Wouldn’t want ya to get your finger trapped in ‘em.”

Your trust in him is all the payment he needs. Oh, and that sweet smile you give him as you babble happily about how he always knows just what to do. 

—

He follows you back to your place in his pick-up truck.

As you lead him inside, murmuring sheepishly about how it’s a bit of a mess inside, he’s focusing on how your smaller form squeezes in next to his in the tiny entryway, how you put your keys away with a gentle metal clatter, the movements unconscious because you’ve no doubt done them day after day. The intimacy of being in your space gets to his head, filling his mind with thoughts of placing his keys over yours on the little hook. 

You’re leading him upstairs to the attic soon enough. While he busies himself with setting up the traps, you sweep up mouse droppings. Settling into the work, a comfortable silence lingers over you both. John’s taking note of the christmas decorations, old books, and various bins you have stored up here, making a mental reminder to offer to come over if you ever need help getting the boxes down from here. He wouldn’t want you tripping down that rickety ladder leading up here. 

He’s setting down one of the last traps, placing it by a crack between the wall and floor that he wants to offer to fill for you, when you shriek, the sound loud enough to cover up the scurrying claws of the mouse that had just ran right by your sneakers. In an instant, your hands are digging into his hairy arm, clinging to him. 

It takes him a moment, looking between your hands and then your scared expression, before he’s springing into action. “Shh, darl’. It was jus’ a mouse. Can’t hurt ya. I won’t let it.”

He lets you hug his arm, using his free hand to gently rub your other shoulder. There’s a slight heat in his cheeks that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen, that small thrill of being alone in the dark, tucked close to another warm body. One touch from a pretty little thing and the seasoned captain is falling apart.

The moment is broken when you pull away with a sheepish smile. You’re apologizing again and again for getting spooked like that but John’s just watching you with a smile, sneaking glimpses at the crescent shaped divots your manicure left in his arm. He doesn’t want them to fade, mind wandering to how you could tear up his back with those claws.

Once the job is done, you say goodnight to him at the door, the yellow porch light casting a halo over his hair. He promises to come back once any of the traps are filled to bring the mice to a field so they don’t end up back in your attic again. 

And, no, doll, you don’t need to repay him but, how could he ever say no to a homecooked meal sometime?

[jaiel]

AU based off this.

(Warning long)

Background info:

Danny and Billy met as heroes. Identity reveal and realizing they’re the same age (16) but have alter egos that are older. They eventually start dating.They get married in their adult forms for tax benefits and to keep them both from being homeless since Billy is bouncing from foster homes and Danny was on the run. Dan and Dani aren’t in the picture to make things easier on them for now.

They fight to handle their problems because Danny comes from a species where fighting is how you say hello and Billy is a magical greek champion and patron of magic. So their language of choice when words aren’t working is fighting. They both have healing factors and hormonal teenage boys so it’s not issues. Until the league takes notice.

Imagine Danny and Billy getting sat down for an intervention. The league is tired of them coming in injured. They think Danny is abusing Billy. They also don’t know about Danny’s real age. They think he’s an immortal posing as a teenage because of his appearances in history. Meanwhile Danny was just time traveling. He also still has unresolved trauma from a lot of things.

Billy snd Danny float in, in their respective hero identities to the whole league staring at them in the meeting room. Before they could fully process it snd turn on their heels and dip. Superman suddenly locked them into the meeting room and blocked the door. Danny and Billy look at each other.

“I think we’re in trouble..” Marvel stage whispers.

“Nooooooo I think they just wanna play Mario kart.” Danny sassily whispers back.

Marvel sighs figuring Danny was annoyed he made them use the tubes instead of flying up to the watch tower. In his defense, Batman had said it was important and he didn’t want Danny getting distracted by space and making them late AGAIN. He was taken out of his thoughts by Dinah and Diana walking towards them and gesturing to seats in the in front of the other leaguers.

“Phantom, Captain Marvel. We would appreciate if you sit and hear us out.” Diana said firmly. Giving little room for wiggle room.

“I told you we should’ve went to the moon first.” Danny grumbled already moving to the seats to sit and marvel followed suit.

“Good. We gathered you today because we are concerned about you two. We as a team….as a family have noticed some concerning behaviors over the past few months. We would like to share them with you. After we share we will allow you to respond. We are here to help.” Dinah said in her typical calm voice that she used for therapy.

In the corner of his eyes he could see Danny cross his arms and float ever so slightly above the chair. His deathly slow heart rate picking up ever so slightly.

“I’ve noticed since you’ve been married. Both of you have came to meetings and incidents already injured. Just last week Phantom had various bruising on his neck, a black eye and a broken leg when he came in to finish his reports. However there had been no incidents of crime on that day or reports.” Batman remarked squinting his eyes at Shazam.

“Marvel, you yourself have come in with broken ribs and other bones on multiple occasions. Even needing to sit out of missions a few times in the last couple of months.” Wonder Woman added shifting her gaze from Marvel to Danny. Oh so that’s what this is about. It should be an easy fix. Hopefully he could keep Danny calm enough for it to happen. He began to reach for the others hand when-

Screeching of a chair scrapping against the floor made everyone’s head turnt to Green Lantern.

“Ight since everyone’s to scared to say it. We know you’ve been beating on Marvel, PHANTOM! We know about your brawls at point Nemo and you both do a horrible job hiding your injuries. It’s outrageous that you claim to be a hero but beat on YOUR OWN HUSBAND!” Green lantern yelled accusingly floating into the air. There was a mixture of agreements and muttering. Some of the senior league members glaring daggers at GL. Clearly this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Isn’t Marvel a little too young for you anyways?” The Flash muttered.

Before Marvel could say anything. There was an ice spike shot directly where the Flash had been sitting. Upon impact the spike had covered the chair. The Flash himself having dodged and stood staring at them offendedly. The air around them dropped until everyone’s breath began to show like vapor. He looked at Danny whose hands were shaking as ice formed around his chair.

“Phantom, my spookie, spook it’s okay. They’re just concerned. They don’t know.” Marvel said grabbing onto one of Danny’s hands snd wincing at how cold it was. He refused to let go until Danny met his eyes.

His head had been down as he hadn’t been making eye contact since the conversation started. Marvel should’ve known something was up when there wasn’t any banter or sass coming from him. Danny’s glowing green eyes had a white reflective slit in the middle. Like the reflective eyes of a cat and his face seemed to shift or glitch ever so slightly.

“I can’t do this again.” He whispered. Small tears could be seen. Evaporating off his pale skin. “I’m not a monster.”

“I know. You’re not a monster.” He said cupping Danny’s face in his hands.

Smiling as Danny leaned into his touch. A good sign that he wouldn’t try to impale anyone else. He could hear speaking in the background but he tried to ignore it and focus on Danny.

“Now if you could stop giving us all the cold shoulder I would appreciate it.”

His attempted at a joke worked when he got a small snort out of Danny. His eyes dimming slightly as the ice began to vaporize into the air.

“I know it’s a big step but I would appreciate if you follow my lead. I’ll do your chores for the next 3 months.” He prompted looking Danny in the eyes. Danny looked back at him searching his face. He knew that Danny had found what he was looking for when the other frowned deeply.

“The rest of the year.” Danny said with a straight face that left absolutely no room for arguments. Marvel signed.

“Fine.”

“Swear it!” Danny demanded as his voice reverberated as if multiple people were talking. He hated when he did that.

“Fine! I swear on the river Styx that I will do your chores for the rest of the year.” Marvel proclaimed loudly. He could hear Wonder Woman gasp at the mention of the river. He took Danny’s waiting hand as green fire enveloped them as they shook.

He then turned to the alarmed members of the league. Some shocked, some in battle stances, some in confusion but all staring at Phantom and Marvel.

Danny watched as Marvel said the magic words. “Shazam” and transformed back into Billy with the strike of mysterious lightning. Wearing his classic red hoodie, jeans and sneakers. He snickered silently kneeling they were wearing the same thing since Danny had just taken Billy’s clothes. Billy cleared his throat.

“Some of you know. Others don’t. I’m Billy Batson. I am Captain Mavrel. It seems we have a few misunderstandings we need to clear up.” He said trying to stand up straighter like when he’s trying to sound more mature.

“You have the floor Billy.” Batman states. Raising a hand to stop all sounds of objections and shock from other members.

“Thank you. I’ll state the facts clearly. Me and a Phantom are in a healthy relationship. Phantom is an appropriate age to be dating me. We appreciate your concern but your this intervention is unwarranted. I won’t speak for Danny but I take offense at you accusing him of mistreating me and accusations against his character.” He said becoming very sharp towards then end.

Where he glared at Green Lantern and The Flash. His fist clenched but he took a breath and calmed himself. He then turned to Phantom. Danny could see that it was his time to be included. Billy’s blue eyes were soft but the unspoken question of ‘do you trust me?’ Was all but spoken. Danny sighed and mustered his courage as he let the white rings envelop him and he got up to stand next to Billy. Quickly taking his hand.

“Would you like to introduce yourself? I can do it for you.” Billy turned his head to whisper in his ear. Danny shook his head and instead clenched Billy’s hand a little harder.

“My name is Daniel Fenton. Call me Danny but you know me as Phantom. I’m 16 snd a half ghost of the Infinite Realms.” Danny said as he let himself look over the shocked faces of the League.

“You expect us to believe you’re telling the truth? We have seen evidence of you throughout history.” Aquaman countered. “Some of us even have ran into you in our youth.”

“Aquaman I don’t sense any lies come from either of them. This meeting also wasn’t supposed to be accusatory.” Martian Manhunter spoke up. “We gathered to check on the well fare of both of our members.”

“Manhunter is right. We shouldn’t be throwing accusations. The league is founded on mutual trust and understanding.” Superman stood in.

Wonder Woman stood from where she had been sitting and walked towards the two boys. Billy moved forward to put space between her and Danny. She stopped in front of them and took the lasso off her hip. She held it out.

“Would you consent to the lasso of Truth? Simply to ease the minds of some of our more stubborn members.” She said mainly looking at Danny.

In a relationship, even a fake one, there will always be fights. Billy and Danny know this from experience. But they are only teenagers and sometimes can’t have calm conversations, although they try. Then they get the idea to fight in Point Nemo, where they can’t hurt anyone. After all, the fights take place in the forms of Captain Marvel and Phantom. Their fights are of very different nature. Who will take out the trash? Let’s fly to Point Nemo. Who will get Dan out of Gotham again? Point Nemo. Is someone offended? They will sort everything out in Point Nemo!

Aquaman senses that sometimes the ocean is not calm and the sea creatures are worried and scared. And when he arrives at the scene of the disturbance, he sees Marvel and Phantom fighting, figuring out who will wash the dishes today. Arthur does not know the reason and thinks that there is a fight between them, a pretty brutal fight, with blood, screams and all that. Let's just say he did not like it. And he told the rest of the League about it.

The League already doesn't like Phantom, and this is a great opportunity to throw even more stones at him.

[softaestluv]

Breaking Bread

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. Your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you.

Simon Riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Sergeant! Reader

Tags: Short n’ Sweet, Fluff, Pining, Angst, Slow burn if you squint, Food as a love language, Eventual romance, Eventual smut, Military inaccuracies

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

on ao3 here!

Simon Riley who you eat with everyday since, becomes a staple piece in your days. A familiar routine that feels anything but.

Unfamiliar, confusing, perplexing because you weren’t exactly sure why Ghost wanted you to sit with him or where you stood with him.

So, you decided standing in the middle of the mess hall, tray in hand, until you find Ghost’s gaze every day was the answer. Wait for his eyes to flick to the empty space in front of him, which they always do; a silent cue for you to join him. And who were you to disobey an order from your lieutenant?

You were a good sergeant, after all.

Found yourself sat across your lieutenant most days. His irises urging you to your ‘seat.’ Greeted him with a soft smile and warm ‘Hi, Lieutenant!’ because you weren’t entirely sure whether he wanted to talk to you or not.

Left the two of you to eat your food in comfortable silence— atleast you hoped it was comfortable for him too. Before you stood up with a sweet ‘Thank you for eating lunch with me, sir.’

He was always there before you, even if you rushed to the mess hall. Always had his food waiting for your arrival, didn’t start eating until you sat with him. Though you were always the first one to stand up to leave, even if he cleared his plate before you had. Waited for you to finish and walk away before he would.

Until one day he wasn’t there, his claimed table empty. You swept your eyes through the room, it would be almost impossible to miss his broad shoulders and skull mask.

You stood there for a few seconds debating if you should sit at the table. What if he never came and you just sat there by yourself? What if he didn’t want to sit by you today?

You had pinched your lips raw in thought by the time a large palm rested on the small of your back. You snapped your head towards the owner; Ghost’s face hovered close as he bent to your height behind your shoulder. Could practically feel his thick chest against your side.

“Comin��?” He asked, breaths shallow like he had jogged there.

He had touched you before, in training, to adjust your position or posture. Ordered you around before moving you on his own accord when you didn’t move fast enough on assignments. You were used to the demanding weight of his palm, but this was different. It was an option, a question rather than a command you had to obey.

“Yeah, uh, yes, sir,” You stuttered out.

Let him guide you to his table— your table?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were coming to sit with me or not today,” You explained as you sat down with him.

“Always gon’ come,” He said, had your skin blooming in an unfamiliar warmth, “Man’s gotta eat.”

Dissolved your worries after that, he asked and you answered.

And faithful to his word he was there, even if you somehow arrived before he had— a rare occasion. You sat at the empty table, food untouched, just as he did for you, until he joined you with a deep grunt as an acknowledgment of your presence.

Dinner was different, the spot to the left of him was taken by Soap more often than not. But still, your lieutenant’s eyes ordered you to sit in the empty space in front of him. Soap was confused at first, welcoming of a fellow sergeant, of course, but curious to Ghost’s gaze.

Though dinner was more like you were eating with Soap rather than Ghost. The two of you spoke while Ghost listened— focused his attention on you between bites. Offered nods as responses and smart remarks to Soap’s banter.

Breakfast with Ghost was your favorite. He did not attend most mornings; you assumed this was because he had to wake earlier than you, complete mandatory work sergeants did not have to. So, if you didn’t see him in the mess hall in the early mornings, you were free to sit with the other sergeants. But if you sat at the empty table in anticipation of his arrival— just in case, well that was another story.

When he was there for breakfast, his shoulders slumped like he was still drowsy from lack of sleep. Hummed quietly when you greeted him instead of his usual dissatisfied grunt or silence. Just a little sweeter at breakfast, maybe it was because he got to muse over a cup of his favorite tea or because the hall wasn’t as packed in the mornings. The absence of loud sergeants and privates eased his irritations.

Maybe it’s cause he got to start the day off with his favorite sergeant.

Few words were shared during this time, you could be sitting with a brick wall for all you knew. He was quite the wall, you thought, sinewy and stalwart, stable and resilient. Still, you hid the small smiles that tugged at your lips whenever he was a little tired, when his bricks chipped and gave away in the light of the mornings. Covered your teeth between gulps of coffee so as not to jeopardize the cracks revealed. When he was just a little softer around the edges in his groggy state.

After what seemed to be weeks of silence, you almost didn’t realize he was speaking to you when he broke it one day. Took a couple of seconds of you staring open-mouthed at him like you had imagined the words from his lips as he arched his brow at you.

“Coffee?” He repeated when you did not answer, gesturing to the cup in your hand.

“Oh! Yes, it’s coffee.” You responded.

You thought that would be the end of it, cursing yourself because your response hadn’t really provided him much to expand upon, but to your surprise another low hum came.

“Course it is,” You watched his nose scrunch under the mask, “How d’ya like it?”

You frowned at his disappointed tone, “Three sugars and cream.”

“Too sweet,” He grumbled under his breath.

“It’s perfect, actually,” You retort, and because you feel like you have to validate yourself to him you add, “I drink tea, too.”

He just hums, like he doesn’t believe you or really care for that matter.

“And you?” You ask, slight bite to your words.

“Hhmm?”

“Your cup.” You explain.

“Tea.” Ghost deadpans, like it’s stupid for you to think anything else would be in it.

“No shit,” You remark, earns you a small twitch to the side of his lips, “How do you like it?”

“Wanna taste?” He muses.

You look at him in shock, lips falling open as you paused in hesitation. You didn’t know if he’s just trying to fuck with you or not, tease you for believing he would actually share with you, so you don’t give him a response. But his hands lift the cup to your mouth anyways, decided he was going to press the ceramic to your lips despite a response, and tilts the liquid into your mouth.

You swallow it, but the taste doesn’t quite melt on your tongue, can’t think about anything else but the fact that your lieutenant is feeding you his cup of tea. Can’t think when his eyes stare intently at you over the cup, watching you diligently take a gulp.

“Good?” He asks, gloved thumb catching a droplet from the side of your mouth.

You nod mindlessly, licking the remnants off your lips. His irises follow the movement.

You don’t say anything more— can’t say anything more when your mind was practically malfunctioning on ‘what the fuck?’

The next day at breakfast, two cups were on the table. You looked at Ghost with furrowed brows.

“For you.”

“Coffee?” You asked.

He shook his head, “Tea.”

From that day forward, Ghost had a cup of tea waiting for you, made just how he liked it. But, how exactly that was, you were still unsure. Told you not to worry, he would keep making it for you if you liked.

So, you let him, even if he was trying to convert you to his ways.

Which seemed to change the dynamic between the two of you. In a way you weren’t completely sure meant, but it twirled and took shape of its own. Not without your own contributions, of course. He made you tea, and in turn, you offered him sweets.

Snapped the chocolate bar you had managed to wrangle on base one day, a delicacy truly, and slowly slid it across the table to Ghost’s side. He looked at you with no emotion, blank and straight-faced.

“Sharing my chocolate with you, lieutenant. Milk chocolate,” You explained, putting your finger to your lips while whispering, “But you mustn’t tell Soap; he’ll feel betrayed. Our little secret.”

“I like dark chocolate better.” He rasped.

Had you rolling your eyes, but still he ate it. Watched him peel his gloves off so he could lick the melted chocolate off his thumbs.

And next time you broke it in two; it was dark chocolate.

It became more than just tea and chocolate exchanged between lieutenant and sergeant. You brought him sweets of all kind once a week, found out the anomaly of a man, Simon Riley had quite a sweet tooth.

And it seemed he looked forward to it just as much as you did, blinked at you starry eyed while he impatiently waited to see what treat you brought him that week. Cherry lollipops, blueberry muffins, lemon biscuits, and chocolate cookies. Your lieutenant was seen with a lollipop stick dangling in his mouth more often than not.

Though on weeks you didn’t bring him sweets, he didn’t seem to mind too much. Told him apologetically that you couldn’t manage to get your hands on any treats that week, but he would always shake his head. Calmed your worries with reassurance that it was okay— lunch with you was the treat.

Made something warm burn in your limbs, tangling its talons and webs through your veins, and settling in your core with the deep timber of his voice.

[lilghostiequinni]

Coming Home to You

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Girlfriend!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy, None

Summary: He can never wait for a weekend without you to come home to you.

Requested: NO / yes

Lando seemed a little peeved at media duties after the race, even though he won said race.

Which usually isn't abnormal, but also isn't normal.

It really depended on the weekend and the factors of that weekend.

One large factor was whether you were there, in the garage, or in the paddock. Even the hotel.

He wasn't happy doing media duties when you were there in the hotel, cause he just wanted to get back to you as fast as he possibly could.

But this weekend, you were not here; you had made plans with some friends, and your friends made plans and dragged you along.

You weren't even in Monaco, well not until about two hours ago.

Your friends dragged you to Portugal for a surprise girls' trip.

You protested the girls' trip, knowing the weekend was important to Lando and knowing that you had a feeling about this weekend, that it would be special.

So, Lando just wanted to go home and cuddle up to where there was no space between the two of you, and you couldn't tell where one stopped and the other began.

He just wanted to go home and sleep for hours, days.

He just wanted to rest, to put away the social media and hide away with you in your home.

There was nothing you wanted more than to go to him from the moment you landed in Portugal, but your friends guilt-tripped you into staying until at least Sunday morning.

You did, though you did get an earlier flight than what you told your friends, and you waited for him in your apartment, watching him as he raced around to track to win.

You had fallen asleep while waiting for Lando to come home, and you woke up, still on the couch and with Lando on top of you, face nestled in your chest and arms around your waist.

You ran your fingers through his hair, trying to either fall back to sleep or wake yourself up more and also wake up Lando.

When you stopped almost back to sleep, your hand stopped moving and Lando spoke up, "Don't stop." He mumbled to you.

You smiled at him and moved your fingers, but then tapped him on the arm to let you go. You wanted to go back to sleep, but your body wanted to use the bathroom.

Lando, having laid on top of you many times for a few years, knew that you needed to pee.

After you got up, he did too, going to the kitchen to grab the bouquets he got you on his way home.

It became a tradition; if you stayed in Monaco or you weren't able to come with you to a race, on Lando's way home, he would get you flowers.

For years now, without fail, Lando always got you flowers on his way home from a race weekend.

Recently, though, he would pay a florist, the florist he always goes all the time, to bring you flowers even where you went with him.

Well, he would pay for the florist to bring flowers to your home when you were almost home.

So, when you got out of the bathroom and went to the kitchen, you seen Lando unwrapping the flower bouquets that he got you, getting ready to put them in vases.

You went up to him and just wrapped your arms around him, laying your head on his back.

"There beautiful." You told him, looking at the flowers.

"I couldn't decide which one, so I bought all four." He told you as he finished the bouquet he was working on.

You let go of him and grabbed the vases and then stood beside him, working on the next bouquet as he filled one of the vases with water for the bouquet he finished.

What was a stressful day turned peaceful because of love, because he came home to you.

A/N: First in the 300 Follower Cele Driver poll

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @charli123456789 @smashcrabsblog @hadids-world @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @gigicisneros @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[tojicide]

chapter one ── pest control. the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies

chapter summary. ┆ caleb's worst fear comes true when the two of you are assigned as lab partners, especially after your first experiment together goes horribly wrong in more ways than one.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

Most days in Linkon City begin with sirens.

Loud, blaring, unmistakable screeches that cut through the early morning quiet like a blade, carving their way through alleyways and avenues alike. They seep into walls, curl beneath locked doors, and coil around the restless minds of those who have long since stopped flinching at their call.

To them, the inhabitants of this city, it is nothing more than background noise—a city’s heartbeat, rhythmic and ceaseless. But to you, it is a warning. A sign that the world beyond the window of your dorm room is a battlefield, and you, a stranger in its midst, are only beginning to understand the rules of this strange place.

Perhaps, in time, you will grow desensitized as they have. Learn to sleep through the wailing cries, to walk these streets without the ever-present weight of caution pressing against your ribs. In a way, they forbade you from venturing out, instilling a fear within you that if you did, you would be the individual these melodies chased—or worse, the victim they had been called for in the first place. 

The entirety of the first semester has passed, and you haven’t even finished unpacking. Your suitcase remains half-full, a tangible reminder that you do not yet belong here. That you still have a choice—to do something before this place sinks its teeth into you, before you become just another soul who mistakes chaos for comfort.

But that choice is an illusion.

Here, people like you make no difference. You are not a hero, nor anything close to it. You are just a student who knows better, one who recognizes that the sirens will always be there, a requiem for the city’s unrest. And the crime will persist, as will the men in uniform who fail to stop it.

Somewhere beyond the blaring wails, beyond the tangled skyline and shadowed alleys, someone is fighting a battle you will never quite understand.

And for now, all you can do is listen.

Yet, in a way, you know that this was exactly where you wanted to be.

Despite its rapidly deteriorating surroundings, Linkon University remained a place of prestige. Young children dreamed of acceptance into its ranks, babbling to their parents about how they, too, would one day make these halls their stomping grounds. Maybe it was naivety that brought you here. Or maybe it was the last remnants of a dream that hadn’t yet died on your tongue.

Or perhaps, it was the medical journalism program—a rare gem, dwindling into obscurity at every other university.

You were lucky to be accepted. But humbly speaking, luck had very little to do with it. Your stats spoke for themselves: a 1540 SAT, a 4.98 weighted GPA, more extracurriculars than you could count on both hands. A smart cookie, as written in the shining letters of recommendation that paved your way here.

And yet, imposter syndrome festered like a quiet disease, creeping into the spaces between your confidence. You have spent your entire life at the top. Always number one.

Here? You were number two.

Number two to whom? You did not know. Not yet, anyway.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb’s perfect life has unraveled in the span of a week and a half, but he positively swears it’s not his fault.

It’s yours.

Ten days ago, at precisely 12:57 PM, he endured the worst torment known to man: his seat in the lecture hall was stolen. A cruel move, truly. Class had been in session for four days, he’d claimed that seat twice—twice—and by the unspoken law of university students everywhere, that granted him full ownership. So why, then, were you sitting in his allotted property?

Looking back, Caleb sees only two possible explanations. The first: you had unknowingly taken the seat after enrolling just before the census date. The second: you were out to get him from the very start.

And personally? He’s convinced it’s the latter.

But alas, he hadn’t made a fuss about it then. It wasn’t like he’d just lost the single best seat in the entire hall—the one with perfect access to the exit, the projector, and the professor’s desk. But hey, he could be cool about this, right? Yeah… totally cool. So cool. The coolest.

Days passed, and everyone seemed to be settling into the spring semester just fine. The weather was getting warmer, flowers on the great lawn were blooming, and Caleb was thriving.

That was, until the unthinkable happened.

Time? 2:19 PM. Class? CHEM 001 AH. Location? The Grand Hall.

Caleb sat directly behind you, having resigned himself to the second best seat in the room, as the sound of pencils scratching against paper filled the otherwise quiet space.

Taking practice exams felt pointless. A waste of time, really. His efforts could be better spent elsewhere—like taking the real exam or absolutely demolishing his roommate Zayne in Apex Legends yet again. But instead, here he was, surrounded by classmates diligently scribbling away as the session inched closer to its eventual end.

And when it did, Caleb would have simply packed up and gone on his merry way—if not for the single most bone-chilling sentence he had ever heard in his entire academic career.

You were chatting with the girl beside you, talking about things he had zero interest in. Your shared biology class at 3 PM, your dorm building, plans to meet up at the dining hall later… blah blah blah. But then—an acronym. A single, horrific acronym triggered him like a sleeper agent.

“My GPA? Oh, it’s… 4.30. I think. To be honest, it’s been a while since I checked.”

His jaw went slack. His eyes widened. The color drained from his face.

A 4.30 GPA? No. No. That couldn’t be real. That could not be real.

But as his gaze flickered between the back of your head and your friend’s, he came to the most horrifying conclusion of all.

You weren’t lying. And if that were true… then that meant you had the same GPA he did.

Which meant that, depending on your course load and how well you performed, you could take his spot as number one in the class rank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb burst into his dorm room, slinging his backpack onto his mattress before face-planting into it with a sound somewhere between a groan and a hmph.

Across the room, Zayne didn’t even glance up from his desk, fingers tapping away at his mounted laptop. Click, clack. Click, clack. For a stretch of time, that was the only sound in the room—until he finally exhaled, the kind of quiet sigh that could only mean here we go again.

“Rough day?”

Caleb didn’t even hesitate. “The worst day.”

Zayne closed his eyes for a moment, like he was mentally preparing himself, before pushing away from his desk and turning his chair just enough to look at his roommate. “What happened?”

Still face-down on the bed, Caleb let out a long, exaggerated sigh—nowhere near as silent as Zayne’s. “I think I have to take trig next semester. Honors.”

That made Zayne pause. Brow quirked, he leaned back. “Why? Your counselor quite literally said you’re already on track to graduate with honors and as one of the top-ranked students in our year.”

That was the problem, though. Caleb wasn’t satisfied with being one of the best. He wanted to be the best—and now, that source of pride was under attack.

“Well, that was before I found out I’m sharing a GPA with some girl in my chem lecture,” he said, rolling onto his back to stare blankly at the ceiling. “Which means if I don’t get my shit together and pack on a few more honors courses, I’m cooked.”

Zayne laughed. Actually laughed. Shaking his head, he turned back to his desk, plucked his glasses off the mousepad, and slid them on. “You should hear yourself right now.”

Caleb’s head snapped to the side, eyebrows pinching together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just amusing, is all.” Zayne smirked. “I find it endearing that you, Mr. ‘I can skip the final and still pass with a 94%,’ Mr. ‘I think I might take astronomy honors for fun this semester,’—”

“All riiight, I get it,” Caleb cut in. “What’s your point?”

Zayne snickered, amused. “My point is that if you of all people feel threatened by a classmate you hardly know, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

Caleb hated that there was probably some truth to that. Not that he’d ever admit it. Being threatened by a classmate he barely knew? Please. He knew enough. (And yes, he had meticulously sifted through the entire roster of his chemistry class to stalk your Canvas profile. What? It’s… field research.)

“Y’know, you’re terrible at pep talks,” he muttered, folding his hands behind his head.

“I’m not trying to be,” Zayne replied easily. “But if you want my input—take the trig course next semester. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

Caleb rolled onto his side, fishing his laptop from his backpack as the weight of his evening workload settled in.

And maybe Zayne was right.

Maybe he would need all the help he could get.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

It wasn’t until six days later—today—that Caleb knew for certain fate was no longer on his side.

The professor’s voice cut through the shuffle of students packing up their belongings, all of which were currently praying that their first lab of the semester wouldn’t be a complete and utter disaster. It was a well known fact that Dr. Rappaccini was quite the harsh critic, and an even harsher grader. Her score on Rate My Professors was a whopping 2.8/5 for crying out loud.

“Alright, it’s time for you all to receive your lab partners for the semester. Before heading to the lab next door, please check the list of pairings at the front.”

Luckily, Caleb had committed the syllabus to memory and knew that each person was scored individually no matter how their partner performed, but it was recommended that the pair conduct their experiments together to save time and... okay, maybe he hadn’t memorized it as well as he thought, but at least he knew the core details, right?

Scanning the list, his blood ran cold. He squinted, hoping that the prescription of his glasses had failed him, but of course, it was unmistakable. Your name was printed next to his. Emboldened, unignorable, in a perfectly neutral 12 pt Times New Roman font.

The walk to the laboratory was a quiet one, and you were walking a few feet ahead of him without a care in the world. Reaching for the door handle, he twisted the metallic lever and gestured for you to enter ahead of him with a single nod of his head. It was a force of habit. He may not care for you as an academic peer, but you didn't directly wrong him in any way. Not knowingly, that is.

With a curt nod of your own and a sliver of a smile, you entered the class with a quiet “thank you.”

And before he could follow in step behind you, the neverending line of your fellow classmates began to flood into the room, leaving him to stand idle while offering each of them a thin-lipped smile. It felt like an eternity before he was able to step inside of the laboratory too, and his first instinct was to map out the classroom to find the best possible seating arrangement. 

To his surprise… you’d already claimed the most optimal lab station, and as he approached, you made the first move to speak. 

“I hope you’re okay with sitting here,” you say, fishing out your sleek notebook and a bright blue pencil. “It’s the only lab station with equal access to the exit, the supplies cabinet, and the professor’s desk.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as bewilderment etches into his features. Were you inside of his brain? He clears his throat, shaking away his confusion as he nods. “Yeah, I’m alright with this spot. Good choice.” 

Smiling, you nod too. “Cool.” 

A beat of silence passes, and you smooth your hands over the black resin material of the table, a movement that his eyes instinctively follow. Then, your hand raises and extends out to him, forcing him to blink himself out of his state of daydreaming. 

You say your name while tilting your head with a smile—this time, a smile with teeth—as you wait for his hand to take yours. “And you’re… Xia?” 

Raising his eyebrows, he shakes his head while a chuckle slips through his carefully crafted exterior. “Caleb,” he corrects, his firm grasp enveloping your hand as he gives it a shake. “Caleb Xia.”

“Ah, got it,” you remark, an epiphany dawning on you as you slip your hand from his hold. “Well, I’m going to go get our safety goggles.” 

But before leaving, you straightened, eyes glued to him—or rather, his head.

Huffing out a laugh through his nose, Caleb’s lip tugs up in the corner. “What are you doing?”

Tapping your chin, you sigh. “I’m trying to see if you have a big head. If you do, I’ll have to go fight tooth and nail for one of the ones with adjustable straps.” 

Rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, he rests his elbow on the edge of the table before leaning his cheek into his hand. “Well, lay it on me. What’s your diagnosis?”

Humming, you tilt your head back and forth before nodding your head a single time. “Big-head syndrome. I’m positive.”

Caleb’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “I should take that as a compliment. Big head means big brain, you know.”

“Or a big ego,” you retort with a shrug, giving him a once-over with raised brows before whisking away towards the horde of students currently going to war over the remaining pick of the litter. 

Yeah, that too, he thinks. 

In your absence, he takes the liberty of prepping the lab for the both of you. Beakers? Check. Random substance that the two of you were going to be experimenting on? Check. Hydrochloric acid? Check. Sodium bicarbonate? Check—

“Safety goggles,” you state, plopping down on your stool and handing his pair to him.

Without missing a beat, he speaks. “Check.”

Drawing back slightly, you turn to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Uh… yeah. Check.”

Faltering, Caleb slides the item onto his face as he stammers through his words. “I was just… never mind, let’s start.”

The class had settled into a low hum—the murmur of newly paired partners, the scribbling of notes, the soft hiss of chemicals reacting. 

As the two of you began the experiment, an incredibly prominent conclusion dawned on him: Disliking you as a person wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. As a competitor? You were treacherous. As a lab partner? You were… tolerable. Efficient. Annoyingly easy to work with. 

It wasn’t the end result that he was hoping for, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. He wanted you to be difficult to be around, he wanted you to be stuck up, he wanted you to give him a genuine reason to dislike you apart from being the root of his newfound insecurity. But you weren’t, and that was a problem. 

“Pass me the baking soda?” you ask.

“The sodium bicarbonate?”

“Yeah. The baking soda.”

Caleb tilts his head with a smile. “Also known as sodium bicarbonate.”

You glance his way, and your eyes met. “Congrats, big guy. You know big words. Now pass it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Biting back a smile, he hands it over, only to retract it at the last second. “Wait. What’s it called again?”

Your force smile was all teeth. “Sodium bicarbonate.”

Finally relenting, Caleb places the bowl in your orbit with a triumphant grin. 

He was smart enough to know that this was a bad idea. Despite how easily the two of you worked together, he knew that he couldn’t entertain this any further. You weren’t just his classmate, his peer—you were his competition. And while he’s heard the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer just as many times as the next person, he knows that mixing any ounce of developing friendship with his pursuit for greatness would be wrong.

It would work best that way. You can’t be friends, and that’s okay.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, fate seemed to agree with him.

“Hmm,” Caleb soon rumbles, squinting at the beaker. “This isn’t lookin’ too good. You said you added the sodium bicarbonate, yeah?”

You frown, glancing up from your notes. Your stomach twists at the sight of the clock—barely any time left before the lab ends. The professor would be making her rounds any second now.

“What? I didn’t add it. You said you added it.”

Caleb flits his gaze to the side of your face. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

Your head snaps toward him so fast he was surprised it didn’t snap right off. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

You exhale sharply, frustration creeping up your neck. “How are you gonna tell me what I did or didn’t do?”

Your pulse ticks up a bit faster than it naturally should, and your eyes rose up from the glass cylinder. Around the room, students were already wrapping up their conclusions while the two of you hadn’t even finished the experiment. You suck in a breath and push up from your stool.

“Fine. Fine. Can you just pass me the baking soda?”

Caleb nods, handing over the pre-measured bowl of sodium bicarbonate. While you worked to fix the mess, he jotted down a few quick notes. You added just enough of the powder to neutralize the acid—but not smother it completely.

And then? Silence. The two of you sat. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

Then, miraculously, the beaker decided to behave and the fizzing subsided.

Like clockwork, you both exhaled, shoulders slumping as small, victorious smiles tugged at your mouths—

Until yours vanished entirely. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Caleb falters, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say thank you.”

“Well, you should have.”

“Why? If I hadn’t pointed out the weird reaction, we’d have been screwed.”

“Oh? If I hadn’t realized neither of us added the sodium bicarbonate—which was your responsibility, by the way—we would’ve actually been screwed.”

Tension thickened between you like a drawn bowstring. You clench your jaw and look away, scribbling down your final observations. Stupid man, you thought to yourself. And here you were, actually believing that this semester wouldn’t be a total shitshow, that maybe, just maybe, you’d gotten lucky.

Unfortunately not.

Then, your attention was caught by something out of the ordinary. Your gaze lands on his neck, and your breath hitched. Staring back at you was a small, multi-legged beady eyed monster. Sticking out your pointer finger, you still find yourself instinctively drawing back, as if it were out to get you next. “There’s a spider on—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Caleb winced, his veins tightening as he instinctively flicked the eight-legged menace off. You sucked your teeth, drumming your fingers on the table. So much for your timely warning.

Glancing his way, your brows elevate as you see the already forming bite mark on his neck. “Yikes. It got you good.”

“Did it?” he asks, raising a hand to rub over the mark with narrowed eyes. “Hm. Guess so, yeah.”

Reluctantly, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

With a nod, he picks up his pencil once more and works on finishing the last of his lab report. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sighing airily, you can’t help the smile that tugs on your mouth. “Poor spider, being flicked through the air like that.”

Like routine, Caleb shot a glare your way. “Funny.”

“Thanks.”

With that, you left for the washing station. Meanwhile, Dr. Rappaccini stood from her desk, making her rounds. It was in that moment that a shrill of panic shot up his spine—the stimulation foreign, unfamiliar, and… terrifying. 

He could feel his heart rate shooting through the roof, a sweat break on his forehead, and his fingertips flex at his sides—all things that he wasn’t even conscious of. And before he knew it, he was glancing in your direction, noting that you were distracted. Good.

With a quick ease, he snatched up your notepad and erased a few numbers, replacing them with subtle, logicless mistakes. 34? Now a 26. 32 to the power of 5? Not anymore.

It wasn’t his proudest moment. Sabotaging his own lab partner’s work? Definitely not.

Ten seconds. That’s all it took to ruin you just enough. He slid the notepad back into place, brushing away the eraser shavings. Like clockwork, you returned, none the wiser.

Exhaling softly, you turned to him. “Look, I just wanted to say that—”

“Now, you two,” Dr. Rappaccini’s voice cut you off.

You both turned as she scanned and picked up Caleb’s report, making a few marks with her fine-pointed marker before sliding it back into place. You glanced over, making note of his grade. 94.

Then, she picked up yours. A moment later, she handed it back. Your professor held up a roll of stickers, tearing two off before setting them down on the table.

Despite the vibrant designs on the stickers, your stomach dropped. Your grade was big, bold, and unmistakable. 82.

“Wait—Dr. Rappaccini,” you call after her, staring at the page with widened eyes of shock. “I… I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

“Well, your experiment was solid—your observations were well-written, and your documentation was precise. But your math?” She sighs. “Completely off.” A beat of silence. Then, a smile. “Don’t feel discouraged. You’re a good student as you are—no need to compare your scores to others.”

The implication was clear. She thought you were smart—just not as smart as Caleb.

Huffing, you toss your notebook onto the table, fingers curling against the edge of it.

“You got cut off earlier,” he says casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “What were you sayin’?”

Blinking, you tried to retrace your thoughts. “Oh, yeah… I was just saying that…”

Your voice trails, eyes drifting to your lab report. Caleb caught the flicker of realization dawning on you—and when you turned to him, his not-so-hidden grin said it all.

“I was just saying,” you snap, “that you’re an asshole whose handwriting looks like a drunk chicken clawed at my report.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says with a shrug, peeling off his sticker to plaster it onto your shoulder. “Good luck on the exam tomorrow morning.”

And with that, he walks out of the lab.

“Yeah, you too,” you murmur, though he was already gone before he could hear the hissed “bitch” that followed.

Irritation pricks at your skin as you stuff—more like shove—your belongings into your backpack. Prick. So much for not knowing the single person you were beneath in the class ranks.

Guilt stirred in his chest as he walked towards his dorm building… but only a little.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

By the time Caleb stumbled back to his dorm, he felt like he’d been hit by a freight train.

He barely managed to push the door open before kicking off his shoes, letting his backpack slump to the floor with a heavy thud. His head swam, his breath uneven as he widened his eyes in a feeble attempt to stay awake. Slapping himself on the cheek, he quickly realized it was no use. His neck stung worse than it had when the spider first bit him, the dull throb pulsing beneath his fingertips as he rubbed over the puncture point.

"Are you drunk?" Zayne’s voice drifts from across the room.

"No," Caleb mutters, face buried in his pillow. "Just… tired. Really tired."

He sank into the thin mattress like dead weight, the springs groaning beneath him. With sluggish hands, he pulled his glasses from his face and tossed them onto the bedside table, missing by an inch. His breathing grew heavier, his skin slick with cold sweat. His pupils—blown wide as saucers—fluttered shut as he barely mustered the strength to tug his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

And within seconds, he was out like a light.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, painting golden stripes across Caleb’s bare back as he jolted awake.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, erratic breaths, but despite the abruptness of it all, he felt… alert. Fully awake in a way that didn’t exactly make sense.

Blinking rapidly, he reached for his glasses and slid them onto his face with a groggy groan. And then—he froze.

His vision was still blurry.

Frowning, he pulled his glasses off, breathed onto the lenses, and wiped them against his bedsheet. When he slid them back on—blurry again. He pulled them down. Clear. Glasses up. Blurry. Glasses down. Clear.

He stares at them in his hands. “...Weird.”

Setting the frames down, he threw his legs over the bed and staggered toward his closet—only to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Since when the hell did he have abs?

He flexed instinctively, stomach tensing under his own scrutiny. Then his gaze trailed up—to his arms. His biceps. His shoulders.

Turning, twisting, he inspected every angle of himself like a stranger in his own skin. He’d been in shape before, sure, but this? This was different. He would’ve noticed this.

Knuckles rapped against the door, making him flinch.

“Caleb? Are you awake? I forgot my key.” A pause. Then, “Are you feeling any better? You slept like a log last night—perhaps you’re catching a bug.”

"A bug?" Caleb echoes under his breath, flexing again just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Holy shit… Uh, yeah, man, I’m good. Just—gimme a sec.”

Turning back toward his desk, he reached for his chair, only meaning to push it aside—but the moment his palm touched the wood, it stuck.

His brows furrow.

He yanks once. Then again.

Nothing.

His heartbeat quickens as he curls his fingers, attempting to lift his hand—and instead, he lifts the entire chair clean off the ground.

“What the—” His stomach drops. He waved his hand. The chair waved with it. Up. Down. Side to side. Still stuck.

“Caleb?” Zayne calls from the other side of the door.

Caleb whips his head toward the sound, panic tightening in his throat. Shit. He bolted across the room—chair still attached to his palm—and somehow managed to unlock the door just as Zayne strode in.

Zayne, clearly in a rush, barely spared him a glance as he grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, clipped them together, and breezed back out with a nod.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Caleb exhaled sharply—only to realize his hand was still stuck… to the doorknob.

Huffing, he gave it a firm tug, expecting it to pop free. Instead, the entire knob wrenched out of the door, hinges snapping with a loud crack.

"Shit."

He barely had time to process before his body betrayed him once again—this time, with a sharp thwip.

A thick strand of silk shot from his wrist, attaching him to his bedpost.

His pulse stuttered. 

"What. The. Fuck."

Another sharp tug. Another web. More panic. Before he knew it, his dorm room looked like a crime scene from some horror movie—threads of silk stretching from walls to furniture to the ceiling.

His gaze snapped to the clock on his desk. 12:56 PM.

"Alright," he mutters, inhaling deeply. "Exam starts in four minutes. I’m sticking to everything I touch. I’m half-naked. Cool, cool, cool."

But nothing about this was cool.

If anyone in the history of Linkon University could take an exam like this, it was going to be him.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

a/n like & reblog if you enjoyed!! this was really fun to write :) also i should’ve mentioned it rly isnt specified how old reader is, just that she’s in college and just starting her second semester at linkon university :) she can be a transfer student (which is kinda what i had in mind), a first year, etc lol it doesn’t really matter bc i’m fine with that being a “plot hole”

i could not stop laughing while writing this at 4am bc i was just imagining caleb coming up with an elaborate ass internalized beef with reader and she’s just sitting in her chem lab like

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post)

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[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - They're Your One-Night Stand and They Fall for You (maknae line)

Warnings: mature NSFW content (18+) (p in v, f oral receiving), mention of virginity

Hyung line

MASTERLIST

You had a huge argument with your best friend over her toxic boyfriend and she decided that the two of you should take some time apart but you knew that was just her boyfriend talking. You've known each other for years and were so close that her words came as an absolute shock and broke your heart. That night you just wanted to forget everything and have a good time. You went to the club with some of your other friends and danced and had a few drinks. You were tipsy enough to make you feel braver than usual but not remotely enough that you didn't know what you were doing. You had never had a one-night stand before but everything is a first sometime.

Jimin

Your friends had all gone back to the dance floor but you weren't feeling it anymore. No matter how hard you tried to not think of your friend, she kept popping into your head. You finished your drink and decided to call it a night.

A few guys asked you to dance with them but you refused all. They were grabby and drunk and you knew better. You made your way to the dance floor and said goodbye to your friends when one of the guys from earlier took your waist and pulled you into his arms. He was grinning as if he had just won the lottery and although you tried to push him away, he only held you tighter. There was beer on his breath and his wrinkled shirt was smothered with a cheap fragrance.

You tried to get out of his grasp again and this time you succeeded although not on your own. An unknown man was holding the drunk by the fabric of his shoulder.

"You need to leave her alone," he warned.

"Who the hell are you? I know she's here alone, I-I saw her girl friends," the drunken guy's tongue twisted.

"I'm someone telling you to keep your hands off her," said the stranger as his frown only grew darker.

"Leave him alone, baby. Let's just go home," you went along and took the man's hand. He turned around and your eyes met. You were grateful that the club was dark because your cheeks flushed bright red. He was gorgeous.

"Man, this is such bullshit..." yelled the drunk guy and stumbled back, suddenly distracted by a bottle of bear someone didn't finish.

"You okay?" asked the stranger and tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. He gave your cheek a small caress with the back of his hand as you nodded.

"What's your name?" he asked, leaning down slightly.

"It's Y/N," you said over the loud music.

"I'm Jimin," he spoke close to your ear, giving you goosebumps. You nodded again, at a loss for words. Your eyes shifted to his lips involuntarily and you couldn't help but lick yours. Jimin watched you with amusement dancing in his dark eyes and made you blush even harder.

"I'm sorry," you apologized quickly, feeling unbelievably rude after he helped you get away from a complete creep.

"It's okay," grinned Jimin. His smile woke up the butterflies in your stomach. He cupped your cheek again and leaned in closer, his thumb caressing your soft skin. He waited for you to make the final move. Jimin's smile disappeared completely and his face grew serious. You wrapped your arms around his neck and closed the space between your lips. His kiss was soft but confident and he wore a fragrance that was dark and woody and yet fresh at the same time. Whenever he pulled away, you came back for more until he was sure you really wanted this.

You could barely remember how you got there but you were in Jimin's apartment, searching blindly for the buttons of his shirt. His touch made you forget everything else. His hands squeezed your bum before he unzipped your dress and you managed to get the last button of his shirt. Jimin took it off as you turned around and let his lips leave a trace down your neck. He pulled down your dress and guided your waist to his hips. As if he weren't hard enough before, now he was losing his mind. Jimin's hand slipped down your stomach and to your underwear. You moaned when two of his fingers caressed the wet crease between your thighs. You leaned back against him, your bum pressed tightly against his member. Jimin's hand slipped in your underwear, making you gasp.

"Oh my god," you kept repeating to yourself as he entered you and caressed your g-spot in a way that made you whimper out in pleasure.

Jimin sat on the bed behind him with you on his lap and his fingers never leaving you. He kissed your neck, marking your skin with countless little hickeys. Your nails dug into his arm as you came closer and closer to climaxing.

"Please don't stop," you begged.

"I won't stop," he purred against your skin. The heel of Jimin's hand was teasing your clit all the while his fingers were inside of you. Your thighs shivered as you whimpered and a wave of ecstasy washed over you. Jimin's hand wrapped around your waist and steadied you against his chest.

"How did that feel, princess? Did that feel good?" he asked quietly against your ear.

"Mhm," you nodded and turned around, your lips finding Jimin's. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his fingers unclasped your bra. You took the uncomfortable lace off and let Jimin's lips worship your chest. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand behind his trousers. Jimin stopped kissing you, transfixed by the pleasure your touch was bringing him. He grew bigger and harder by the moment and you couldn't wait any longer.

"Do you have a condom?" you asked against his lips. Jimin nodded and kissed you hard one more time before he reached over to the nightstand. You took the packet from his hand and tried to open it but your hands were shaking a little.

"What's wrong?" asked Jimin. He propped up your chin and made you look at him.

"Nothing, I'm just a little nervous," you smiled honestly.

Jimin shook his head a little, "Why?"

You studied his expression for a moment, the small frown on his face. "I've never done this before," you whispered playfully.

"You mean a one night stand or...?" asked Jimin, his thumb caressing your cheek. You shook your head. Something shifted in Jimin's eyes, something that made your stomach explode with fireworks.

"I want to do it," you reassured him and kissed him in a way that he forgot to breathe to prove it. He responded to your lips and gladly but you couldn't help but notice that his touch was just a little softer.

Jimin wrapped an arm around your waist and lay you down on the bed. He ran a hand through his messy hair as he stared at your perfect body. His chest was rising and falling as if he were out of breath. You watched him take off his trousers and his underwear. Your cheeks flushed to an even shade of red. Jimin slipped on the condom as you took off your panties. He took your leg and kissed your calf, then your knee and your thigh where he left another hickey before he moved up to your tummy, your chest, your neck and your lips. Your heart was beating like mad but everything disappeared when your gasp ran across Jimin's lips as he entered you. His gaze found yours as he moved his hips slowly, letting you take more and more of him. You were already sensitive and he only made you feel better. You wrapped your legs around Jimin's hips and pulled him even closer, taking all of him. Jimin couldn't hide his sounds of pleasure. He moaned deeply with each thrust. His fingers intertwined with yours as he came closer and closer. Jimin sat up and let his hands roam from your chest to your hips where he watched his length disappear inside of you. Your eyes were shut tight in pleasure and he couldn't hold back any longer. His pace quickened again and his lips found yours. Your soft whimpers drove him over the edge. His chest vibrated with a deep moan and his member pulsated deep inside of you. Jimin leaned his forehead against yours, his thumb drawing shapes against your neck.

***

You woke up late in the morning wrapped tightly in soft covers and pale silken sheets. Your body was sore in the best possible way as you stretched your limbs and the memories of last night came flooding back to you.

You opened your eyes and looked around. You were still in Jimin's apartment, and to your greatest surprise, he was sleeping beside you. You had not noticed it last night but he had five moons tattooed along his spine. He looked even more handsome than you remembered.

You sat up in bed, careful not to wake him. The moment you slipped to the edge of the bed, Jimin's arm wrapped around your waist though and pulled you back.

"Where do you think you're going?" he spoke with a morning voice so raspy it made goosebumps rise on your bare arms. You couldn't help but smile and scoot closer to him. He kissed your side before your leaned down and found his lips. The kiss was soft and slow and full of passion. As you opened your eyes, you couldn't understand why Jimin was being so nice to you. Everything you heard about one night stands and even sex was the exact opposite of your night with him.

"Coffee?" he offered sleepily and broke your stream of thought.

"Yes, please," you agreed gratefully.

Whilst Jimin made for the kitchen, you took a quick shower, stunned by the luxurious apartment. You didn't pay the slightest attention to it last night other than making sure there were no creepy things lying about that would indicate the stranger you just met was a serial killer.

You took advantage of the steaming hot shower that soothed your pleasantly sore body before you headed through the apartment. The smell of coffee beans filled the air before you even managed to find the kitchen. Jimin was wearing a pair of dark trousers and a silken white shirt that was still unbuttoned. Your cheeks turned pink as you recollected the heavenly details of last night. Still, you couldn't help but wonder who this man was. He was perhaps a few years older than you and yet his apartment was that of a millionaire.

"Who ... Who are you?" you asked carefully just Jimin turned around and saw you standing there.

"What do you mean?" he asked with a small smile and set a cup of coffee on the isle before you. When you couldn't exactly word your feelings, Jimin grew serious as well.

"I mean, you don't ..." you gestured around the apartment. "You don't look like the type of person to ... Rich people don't go to those sorts of clubs," you blurted at last.

Jimin held back a laugh but his mouth spread into a gorgeous smile nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, I'm being crass," you said desperately but he was amused. "I just don't understand how this happened, I guess ..."

"It's okay," said Jimin softly and took a sip of his coffee before he came closer and leaned against the isle. "You're right, I don't go to clubs like that. I was meeting a ... business partner," he tried to find the right word but you could tell from the tone it was someone Jimin didn't like.

You nodded and brought your coffee to your lips. Jimin was watching you, taking in the slightest detail. Your eyes met his and it suddenly hit you.

"Should I go? It's late and you're busy," your thoughts rolled down your tongue as you quickly put down your cup Jimin frowned for a split second and a dark look filled his eyes.

"Don't go," he asked as he caught your elbow gently. "You don't have to go, Y/N."

Your eyes were big and staring up at him in a way that made his stomach tingle with fireworks.

"Have brunch with me," invited Jimin in all seriousness now.

"I'm not ... I need to change," you shook your head although the thought was more than tempting.

"Dinner then," he insisted and tucked a wayward piece of hair behind your ear.

"I ... I mean, are you sure?" you couldn't help but wonder. "I thought this was just for one night."

Jimin thought so too but there was something about you that drew him closer; he wanted to know more; he wanted to know everything about you.

"I hope not," said Jimin. His gaze never left your face be it your lips of your eyes as if there was nothing else but you that interested him. A shivery breath escaped your lungs and you nodded.

"Okay, dinner tonight," you smiled.

Taehyung

You danced to the beat of the music, letting go all off the toxic thoughts that had been riddling your brain since your best friend told you of her decision. One of the friends you came to the club with was making out in a dark corner with a guy she just met. The idea appealed to you as you wished for nothing more but to forget about your day although you had never had a one-night stand before.

As you looked around, swaying your hips to the music, you found a series of eyes watching you. The men that they belonged to were almost identical to one another; they had the same hairstyle, the same clothes and even the same cheap perfume. One look at them and you remembered why you never had a one-night stand before.

When you followed your friend to the bathroom through the crowded club, a guy bumped into your shoulder, nearly knocking you on the ground with the sheer force of his walking pace. Your back hit another person as you glared at the rude guy.

"I'm so sorry," you said as you turned around quickly. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat when your eyes met the stranger's. The young man's dark irises studied your face as his hands rested in the pockets of his black suit trousers. He wore a matching shirt and his hair was styled perfectly.

"I'm really sorry, the guy ..." you apologized again as you pointed in the rude man's direction but he had disappeared in the crowd. The stranger's dark gaze followed your gesture for a moment but then his eyes returned to you. His body language was slow and elegant as if you weren't in a crowded, hot club. He took your elbow and pulled you to him when a group of drunk girls wanted to push past you. One of them still managed to stumble against you and you steadied yourself against the man's chest.

"I'm sorry," you said instinctively for what was now the third time. He was looking down into your eyes as your faces remained only inches apart.

"It's okay," he purred softly, his thumb caressing your elbow and sending shivers down your spine. You glanced at his lips despite yourself before your eyes returned to his.

"What's your name?" you asked, almost stuttering.

"Taehyung," he spoke as he leaned down and his lips met yours. For a moment, you forgot to breathe. Your fingers balled around the man's shirt as his gorgeous perfume filled your nose. A soft moan escaped your lungs when his free hand went to the side of your neck and guided you even deeper into the kiss.

You barely made it inside of Taehyung's apartment when his lips crashed against yours and his hands went to your hips. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your back arched against his arms. Taehyung carried you over to the sofa where he sat down with you in his lap. You were breathing heavily as you hurried to unbutton his shirt. One look at his beautiful tan body and your tummy exploded with fireworks. You kissed Taehyung's neck and shoulder and chest as he gathered the hem of your little black dress and pulled it over your head.

"Fuck," he cursed when he saw your lacy black bra and his hands went to it immediately. He caressed your breasts before he reached to the back and unclasped your bra. Taehyung had a taste of each of them before he leaned over and grabbed a condom from the end table. You raised your hips just enough for him to slip off his pants. Your mouth watered at the sight of his size. You helped him put on the condom and scooted closer as his hands returned to your waist and you guided him inside of you, only pushing your lacy thong aside.

A quiet gasp escaped your lungs as you lowered yourself down, taking more and more of him. Taehyung's eyebrows arched into a frown of pleasure as his fingers dug into your soft waist. He guided your hips, helping you take all of him and filling your mouth with moans. Your fingers were tangled in his hair when his lips found your breasts, kissing and caressing them with his tongue.

Taehyung's arm wrapped firmly around your waist as he took some of your weight and began thrusting himself deeper inside of your pussy.

"Fuck," you whimpered, steadying yourself against the back of the sofa. Your eyes shut tight as you inched closer to an orgasm. Whilst Taehyung's lips continued worshiping your chest, you reached down to your clit and helped yourself.

A broken gasp caught in your throat as your forehead hit Taehyung's shoulder and your body shivered with pleasure. He stopped moving his hips as his hands caressed your bare back gently. Your pussy was throbbing around him and it took everything in him not to come right then but he didn't want it to end yet.

"Shh ..." whispered Taehyung when you came down from your high and ran his fingers through your hair until they came to rest on the back of your neck. He guided you back to his lips and kissed you deeply as he slowly began to move his hips again. Your soft whimper melted in your kiss when Taehyung's hands reached down to your bum, squeezing your cheeks and guiding you against him.

Taehyung groaned as a wave of pleasure washed through his body. His member pulsated deep inside you as you soaked in the pleasure-drunken look in each other's eyes. You stayed there for a while longer, not moving other than leaving hot, lazy kisses on one another's bodies.

***

You woke up to the faint smell of coffee and laundry detergent as you hid your eyes from the morning sun in the soft covers. A quiet moan vibrated in your throat as you stretched your legs and slowly opened your eyes. You sat up quickly when you realized you weren't in your bedroom but memories of last night came flooding back like a waterfall. Your cold cheeks flushed with fever when you remembered the guy you met and the night you had. You couldn't help but bite your lip as you remembered every kiss and every touch even though you had no idea how you made it to this bed.

As you stood up, you realized you weren't wearing any of your clothes. You were dressed in an over-sized black t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts but nothing else, not even your underwear. You scanned the beautiful bedroom but there was no trace of your dress or your lingerie. Soft noises were coming from the other side of the apartment. You combed your hair with your fingers and touched your eyes to check on your makeup but you must have washed it off before you went to sleep.

You tiptoed down the narrow hallway until you reached the source of the sound. The TV was on with the morning news program but Taehyung was nowhere to be found. You took a turn and reached the kitchen-dining room area where your one-night stand was pouring himself some coffee. Taehyung heard your little footsteps and turned around. His eyes fell down to your outfit.

"I, um ... I couldn't find my clothes," you explained, drawing Taehyung's attention back to your eyes.

"They're in the bathroom," he spoke with a husky voice laced with sleep. You were about to turn around but he came over to you instead.

"Good morning," he said quietly as he handed you a cup of hot coffee, a small smile hiding in his dark eyes.

"Hi," you breathed as you couldn't help but smile as well. A soft blush crept up your cheeks.

"How did you sleep?"

You nodded and took a sip of coffee. You could not stop yourself from smiling but Taehyung couldn't either. He leaned down a little, waiting for you to back away but you didn't. Taehyung came even closer and tasted the coffee on your lips. Your hand went to his cheek instinctively where you caressed your thumb over his smoothly shaven cheek. His touch was driving you crazy.

"Are you hungry? I'll make you breakfast," purred Taehyung as he left soft kisses down your neck.

"No, it's okay," you said quietly, your hands wrapped around his neck.

"Is there something else that I can get you?" asked Taeyhung when he returned back to your lips. His forehead was leaning against yours and the look in your eyes was telling him one thing and one thing alone.

Taehyung's hands squeezed your bum as he lifted you up before you wrapped your legs around his waist and he carried you back to the bedroom.

Jungkook

You decided to call it a night but your friends wanted to stay. The club was hot and stuffy with disgusting men trying to get you to dance with them all the time. Even as you made your way outside, there was no shortage of drunk guys who were taking your hand or even your waist to dance with you.

You made it outside at last and sighed deeply, savoring the cool night air. The smell of cigarette smoke made your nose scrunch up as well as your eyebrows. You looked around until you saw a dark figure smoking in the shadow of the streetlight. You looked away quickly, hoping that the stranger didn't notice you. It was dark and all of your friends were inside.

A pair of guys was laughing across the street from the club and they were staring directly at you. One nudged the other and they began walking over. You hugged your arms and looked over your shoulder to the light of the club. The men were almost in front of you when the dark figure emerged from the shadow and stood up next to you. He took one last drag from his cigarette and flicked it away carelessly. Although it was cold, he only wore a black t-shirt and his arm was covered in tattoos. The two men stopped for a moment when they saw the stranger beside you then made their way past you back into the club. A trembling breath escaped your lungs as you watched them disappear. You were about to thank the stranger when he spoke first.

"What are you doing out here alone? Where are your friends?" he asked almost sternly. Your gaze flicked to his lip ring before it returned to his dark frown.

"I ... How did you know I was here with friends?" you answered with a question.

"I saw you when you came," he said and looked at the club. The two men were hanging around the door, catching glimpses of you. They made your stomach twist into knots but the stranger stepped in front of you, blocking their vision of you. The man's broad back was facing you and he was staring at the pair. Although there was cigarette smoke lingering on him, his pleasant perfume overpowered it. As much as you hated to admit, he was gorgeous.

"My friends are staying for a while longer," you told him, making him turn around. He studied your features for a moment and you couldn't help but do the same in turn. The look in his eyes gave you butterflies.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," said the stranger more gently this time. You bit the corner of your lip, wording the craziest, most spontaneous thought that has ever occurred to you.

"Can I come with you?"

You couldn't believe how easy it was. He helped you put on the spare helmet of his bike and told you to hold on. Your hands were wrapped around his waist and he placed his palm over yours every now and then making sure you were holding on tightly.

Jungkook pulled up in the garage of a tall apartment building and the roaring engine slowly died. He climbed off first and helped you take off your helmet, his dark eyes focused intently on the clip beneath your chin. His gaze shifted to your lips once the helmet was off and move up to your eyes. He propped his arms on the bike as he leaned down, waiting for you to come closer. A shivery breath caught in the back of your throat as you slowly reached up to his neck and guided him to your lips. The kiss was soft at first and then it grew deeper, hungrier.

You barely made it up to Jungkook's apartment with your clothes on. Jungkook pulled off your dress down to your hips the second you reached the bedroom, too impatient to feel the soft skin of your breasts. His hands reached beneath your soft lacy bra and moved to your back to unclasp it. Your face was burning hot as you sat on his lap and his kisses made fireworks explode throughout your body.

"I've never been with anyone before," you confessed against Jungkook's lips when his hands reached to the soft skin of your bum. He pulled away with difficulty as his eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown and he opened his dark eyes. He studied your beautiful face, not being able to wrap his head around what you just said.

"Is that okay?" you asked quietly when you saw his frown. He didn't answer but pulled you even closer and kissed you with so much passion that the breath was knocked out of your chest. Jungkook's fingers were tangled in the hair on the back of your head as he guided you against his lips. His touch was softer yet no less confident.

You couldn't help but moan as you rubbed your hips against his trousers and Jungkook's frown only grew darker. He picked up your hips and reversed your positions. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he came closer and found your lips again. Jungkook began leaving soft, wet kisses down your neck. A desperate moan escaped your mouth when Jungkook's lips roamed your chest, his piercing brushing against your sensitive skin.

Jungkook pulled your dress off completely and threw it across the floor. He froze at the sight of your body beneath him, nothing left on you but your lacy underwear. Jungkook's dark gaze snapped to your eyes almost as if asking you whether you really wanted to do this. Mesmerized by the look on his face, you couldn't find a single word, all you wanted was to feel him.

Jungkook leaned down and kissed the side of your knee, then your thigh and finally the hem of your panties. His fingers wrapped around the delicate fabric before they slowly took off your underwear.

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he moaned at the sight of you. His arms wrapped around your thighs as she pulled you to him and his mouth buried into your pussy. You gasped and whimpered as his tongue caressed your clit. Your toes curled with pleasure and your eyes shut tight.

"Oh my god," you gasped when your whole body began tingling with heat. Your nails dug into the covers of Jungkook's bed as you came but he kept going. The look of ecstasy on your face made him so hard it hurt.

"Wait, I can't..." you moaned. Jungkook stopped and you rolled on your side, completely gone with pleasure. Jungkook wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before he came closer and left a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

"It's okay, kitten," he spoke quietly and his fingers drew shapes against your back. Jungkook lay down on the bed beside you and pulled you closer. He guided your head to the nook of his neck and rested one of your thighs across his hips. As he watched you resting from your high, he couldn't help but kiss your temple. No matter how much he wanted you, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you.

Jungkook knew right then he was done for, you were just so perfect in to him.

You ran your hand across Jungkook's chest. He leaned down and kissed your lips and you eagerly responded for more.

"Did that feel good?" murmured Jungkook against your neck where he left a small hickey. You could only moan in agreement when his hand returned to your pussy and caressed you some more. You winced at his soft touch first, still so sensitive from your orgasm. You used your fingers to feel the hard length over his trousers. Jungkook gave your lips a small bite when you did, never wanting you to stop. You touched him some more but he couldn't take it.

Jungkook stood up, took off his pants and grabbed a condom form the nightstand. He was gone for less than a moment before his large hands returned to your hips and he watched his length slowly disappear inside of you. A loud moan filled your mouth as one of his hands ran up your tummy and he began moving his hips. Jungkook leaned down and found your lips once again, your eyebrows in a deep frown of pleasure. He cursed under his breath, moving faster and faster. You wrapped your legs around his hips as your fingers dug into the hot skin of Jungkook's back. The closer he came, the louder the deep moans rumbling in his chest. He grabbed one of your hands and locked your fingers against the bed. His grip was strong but you didn't mind. Your mouth filled with small whimpers as you came closer and closer to another orgasm. Jungkook's gaze shifted from your body to your eyes when he saw you edging nearer.

"Oh my god," you whispered over and over again until you were out of breath and your legs were shaking. You closed a hand over your mouth but Jungkook pinned it against the sheets, wanting to hear every sound of pleasure he was giving you. Seeing you come again sent Jungkook over the edge. His eyebrows fell into a deep frown as he couldn't hold back a moan. You could feel him pulsating deep inside of you and his fingers locking down your hands against the bed. He lay on the bed beside you and pulled you to him, both of your chest heaving and hearts racing like mad.

***

You pulled the covers closer to your chest. It was cold and it felt early although the sun was shinning in your eyes. You ran a hand through your hair as you turned on your back and looked around you. The details of last night began coming back to you as you took in the minimalist bedroom but Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You got out of bed, realizing you were in nothing but an oversized black t-shirt and not even your underwear. Once you found your bra and panties, you quickly took off the t-shirt and put them on. The bedroom door opened and Jungkook walked in. He froze at the sight of you and you of him. He was sweaty as if he had just finished a work out.

"I ..." you began awkwardly and hugged your arms across your abdomen, "I was just looking for my dress."

Jungkook's dark eyes fell down your body, taking in inch by inch until they slowly managed to return to your blushing cheeks. He got your dress from one of the armchairs by the dresser and brought it to you. You thanked him and slipped it on. You pulled your hair to the side and turned around for him to zip you up. Jungkook paused, holding back with every fiber in his body. He pulled up the zipper but his arms immediately sneaked around your waist and pulled you back to him. His lips found the hickey on your neck and kissed it softly and you couldn't help but lean back onto him.

"You're not thinking of leaving already?" Jungkook purred against your skin.

"I don't know," you whispered. You just had the most exciting night of your life but it was just a one night stand. A part of you was stunned that he didn't ask you to leave in the middle of the night already if any of the tales your friends told you were the standard.

"Do you want me to leave?" you asked slowly.

"No," Jungkook's chest rumbled against your back. His grip around your waist grew stronger as he took in the wonderful smell of your skin. He couldn't get enough although he had never planned this to last more than one night.

"Stay," he asked, "And have dinner with me tonight."

You froze.

"Doesn't breakfast come first?" you smiled after you recovered from the initial surprise.

"Dinner means I might keep you here for another night," said Jungkook against your soft neck. Goosebumps rose on your bare arms. You didn't know what you were thinking, you only knew you acted on your instincts.

"Alright," you said, "Let's have dinner."

[chdarling]

Frequently Asked Questions

Hi friends, I've decided to turn my ask box off for a while. This is not in response to any specific ask or any drama, I just can't keep up right now, and I continually feel guilty receiving asks I don't have the energy to answer. I've decided that guilt is not so great for my mental health right now, so I'm taking a wee break and figured I'd post some answers to some of the questions I receive the most.

Snippets and Spoilers can be found here.

***

When will TLE3 be released?

I don't have an exact date, but it probably won't be in 2025. I am giving myself the space and time to write TLE3 at my own pace and pleasure, and I plan to have a full draft finished before I start publishing on AO3. I promise when it's ready, you'll be the first to know.

***

Can I print TLE?

Please do not print TLE using any commercial printing service, as this is not legal (at least in the US, which is where I am). If you are printing and binding it yourself solely for personal use and in a manner that is 100% in compliance with copyright law – aka no one at any point in the process can make any money off of it – then I personally am fine with it (and very honored!). However, I cannot give approval for anything that infringes copyright law in any way. Thank you for understanding! I don't want to be sued!

***

Can I translate/create a podfic/create fanart for TLE?

I would be so unbelievably honored! I give a blanket approval for translations, podfics, and fanart, and I'm so, so touched that you would take the time to do this. I just ask that you ONLY post to AO3* and to please mark it as a related work so it's linked to the original. I may be slow to approve the AO3 email linking the fics, but I promise I will! Thank you!!

*except fanart, obviously. Do whatever you want with that. Although if you post it on tumblr, I would LOVE to see it. <3

***

Are you on any other social media sites?

No. I am ONLY on Tumblr, AO3, and the TLE discord. I don’t even use social media in my personal life, so don't try to find me! I'm not there!

***

Do you have fanfic recommendations?

I’m sorry, but I am not a good resource for this. I haven't actually read much fanfic as I spend most of my limited free time writing it. However, I always recommend checking out @jilyawards for a fantastic collection of the incredible talent in this fandom over the years.

***

Do you take requests for one shots/other fics?

No, sorry. I have my hands more than full with TLE.

***

Do you take suggestions for the plot of TLE?

No, sorry. I have the story pretty tightly plotted from beginning until the (very) end, and while I occasionally swerve down new creative alleys, I’m very committed to sticking to my original plan.

***

Is [super specific spoilery thing] going to happen in TLE?

You are of course welcome to ask, but I am almost certainly going to shout “SPOILERS!” and run away cackling.

***

You say this is a canon fic but [super specific thing that I don’t agree with] is included. What gives?

For the purposes of TLE, ‘canon’ means the original seven books. Everything else is dressing. I do include as canon a lot of the lore JKR provided in interviews while the books were being published (for example, James being a Chaser), however I tend to view all post-book authorial additions as mostly optional. I do use a fair amount of Pottermore in my story, but I do not keep up with new HP material, so it’s impossible to stay up to date with everything. For example, I tweaked the Animagus process somewhat to my liking as opposed to what is described in Pottermore. This is partly because I already had my version sketched out before that was published, and mostly because I did not like what was given on Pottermore.

I do not consider any of the films canon. If this alleged HBO show happens, I will not consider that canon. Video game? Not canon. I also simply do not know what the words ‘Cursed Child’ mean, as I am pretty sure this is from an alternate timeline in which I do not exist. Tra la la. :)

All of this to say: The seven books are the framework. However, I feel pretty strongly that within that framework there is room for many, many interpretations – particularly with regards to the Marauders era, about which we know so little. Just because my headcanon or characterization is different from yours (or vice versa!) doesn’t make it less canon. Similarly, just because something is not explicitly described in the seven books, doesn’t mean it is against canon for it to have happened in the background, unnoticed by Harry, or before the timeline of the seven books starts. See: Wolfstar.

***

Wait, there’s wolfstar in TLE?

Yes. There will be wolfstar in the series. I did tag it from day one, please stop sending me shocked and horrified messages! (lol) Because people have such strong feelings about this ship, I always feel the need to give my little disclaimer: There will be wolfstar. Personally, I love it and am excited to write it. However, if you are a fan of exclusively fluffy, happy wolfstar, you might be disappointed. If you are interested in exploring the fraught, occasionally toxic relationship between two angsty, repressed, and deeply traumatized young men during an escalating war…strap in, gird your loins, etc. We're gonna have some fun.

***

Why do you have two blogs?

Because I'm dumb. Because I didn’t know how tumblr worked when I started this whole nonsense and thought that a side blog sounded like a good idea…aaaaand then pretty much immediately regretted it. This was back before you could reply from a sideblog, so everything was a mess. I'm an archivist at heart, so I can't bring myself to delete @chdarling-tle but I almost exclusively use @chdarling these days. Feel free to only follow that one, unless you only want chapter updates and none of my silly reblogs, in which case @chdarling-tle is here for you. Otherwise it's pretty dead over there.

(ok, confession: this actually isn't a frequently asked question at all, but I shoved it in here anyway because the two blog thing annoys the shit out of me and I wanted to give some context for my disorganization. I meant well, once upon a time!!!)

***

Do you have a Patreon?

I’m amazed and flattered that I’ve been asked this enough to include it in an FAQ, but no, I do not. While I am so appreciative that people want to support this project, TLE is a work of fanfiction, created entirely out of and for love, and is in no way a commercial endeavor. I do not make a penny off of this project. I almost certainly lose pennies to this project. But that's okay! Because of the aforementioned love! And, once again, my deep and enduring desire to not be sued!

(One day I do hope to share some original writing, and if you feel so compelled, you may absolutely pay me for that, but I'm not quite there yet. 😉)

***

Ok but seriously when will TLE3 be released?

(sorry I couldn't resist)

***

Ok that's all I can think of right now. Thank you so much as always for your enthusiasm and support. My closed ask box is in no way a commentary on my appreciation for this community, I'm just very, very tired.

lots of love, CH

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Lost on you?

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this initial Lando story but eventually, Oscar's (I made up the years so maybe they aren't exactly accurate) , let me know what you think, inspired by LP's Lost on you :) If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

2010 - You met Lando Norris when you were both kids, running through the karting tracks with scraped knees and boundless energy. Your fathers had been friends, and it was only natural that the two of you grew up together.

From the start, you adored him. He was the boy with the bright smile, the one who made you laugh even when you were exhausted from traveling between races. When he started karting competitively, you were there with your camera, capturing every moment.

“You should be my photographer forever,” Lando once told you, after you showed him a shot of him mid-race, helmet tilted at just the right angle to make him look invincible.

You had only been twelve at the time, but you took those words to heart.

2014 - You’re thirteen, standing by the track with your camera in hand, capturing every moment of Lando’s race. He’s just won, and as he rushes toward you, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re my lucky charm, you know that?” he says, grinning down at you. Your heart stutters.

Maybe, just maybe, you’re special to him too.

2018 - He had just signed his contract for F1, and the celebration is wild. Champagne bottles pop, the team cheers, and he finds you in the crowd.

“You’re coming with me to McLaren, right?” he asks, a little breathless.

You laugh. “Of course, Lando.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he smirks. “Good. Couldn’t do this without you.”

That night, when the party dies down, you sit beside him, your hand brushing against his. But he never holds it.

2021 - You’re on his yacht, late at night after his podium finish. The city lights flicker over the water, and he turns to you, tipsy and smiling.

“If things were different,” he murmurs, “maybe we’d be something, huh?”

You barely have time to react before he laughs it off.

“Forget I said that,” he adds, walking away, leaving you frozen in place.

2023 - You’ve spent over a decade by his side, capturing his career, supporting him, loving him in the quiet spaces between races and podiums. And yet, he never stays. He never chooses you.

So, one night, you gather the courage.

“I need to know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you feel the same way, or if I have to move on.”

Lando stares at you. “YN, you’re my best friend, but—”

“But I’m not enough,” you finish for him.

His silence is louder than any rejection.

“I don’t fit your life? That’s rich, considering I’ve spent my entire life in it.”

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then explain it to me,” you press. “Because I’ve been here for everything—every race, every podium, every heartbreak. I’ve been the one who’s stood by you through all of it. And you’re telling me I don’t fit your life?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s different. You don’t get it.”

You laugh bitterly. “No, Lando, I get it perfectly. I was good enough when you needed someone to boost your ego, when you wanted someone to flirt with but never commit to. I was good enough when you needed a constant in your life. But now, suddenly, I’m not?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s about me, about what I need.”

You step back, crossing your arms. “And what you need isn’t me.”

His silence is all the answer you need.

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore, Lando. You don’t get to keep me around like some backup plan. I deserve better than that.”

He doesn’t stop you when you walk away.

2025 - A McLaren dinner. You weren’t going to come, but Oscar insisted. And when you arrive, hand in hand with him, you know you made the right choice.

Lando is laughing with the team until he hears your voice.

“Sorry we’re late,” you say, squeezing Oscar’s hand before taking your seat beside him. “There was traffic.”

Silence.

Lando looks up, eyes locking with yours. Shock. Regret. Something else. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re finally moving on.

Oscar wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before diving into conversation with the team. You’re laughing, engaged, your eyes bright in a way Lando hasn’t seen in a long time.

And suddenly, it hits him.

That could have been me.

It’s a thought that won’t leave his head as the night goes on. He watches how Oscar pulls you closer when you shiver, how you whisper things to him that make him chuckle. How you look at Oscar the way you used to look at him.

Lando had thought you would always be there. That no matter how many times he led you on and pushed you away, you’d stay.

But now, as Oscar presses a soft kiss against your lips, Lando realizes he was wrong.

And he has never regretted anything more in his life.

[vandme12]

hear me out

ronin walking in on his darling listening to recordings of his voice. how would he react?

Devil on Repeat

The apartment is too quiet without him. It always is.

You try to fill the silence—music, TV, podcasts—but nothing sticks. Nothing hums in your bones the way he does. So, really, it’s not creepy. It’s just… coping.

Your finger hovers over the folder labeled ‘goreboy.wavs’, half-embarrassed even though you’re alone. A little treasure trove, collected piece by piece—snippets of his voice from late-night calls, glitched-out recordings he’s dropped in the chat, and that one unhinged rant about moral relativism he left on your voicemail at 3 AM.

And maybe you play them more often than you should. Maybe his voice has become something like nicotine, curling around your lungs in a way that’s addictive, dangerous, and a little too good. But hey—you miss him. And he is a comfort. Even if the comfort in question would happily dissect a man just to watch his heart stutter out.

The recording crackles to life.

"Aww, did I make you blush? Don’t worry, darlin’—I’d blush too if I were thinking about me."

You bury your face in your hands. God, he’s unbearable.

And yet… you press play on the next one.

"Y’know, for someone so sweet, you’ve got the most deliciously wicked little thoughts. I should be concerned. I’m not. I’m proud."

A breath shudders out of you, tension bleeding from your shoulders as his voice thrums warm and low in your ears. You could close your eyes and almost pretend he’s here—stretching out on your couch like he owns the place, knife twirling between clever fingers. But he’s not, and the ghost of him isn’t enough, so you play another.

"Miss me?"

The recording is barely a whisper, rough-edged and intimate. It’s unfair, really, the way he sounds like sin spun into sound. And, okay, maybe you replay that one a little more often. Just to hear it. Just because—

"Y’know," a familiar voice drawls behind you, smooth and wicked, "If you wanted to hear my voice that bad, darlin’, all you had to do was ask."

Oh, fuck.

Your heart slams against your ribs as you whirl around, and there he is—leaning in the doorway like a devil straight out of your dreams, all sharp teeth and sharper eyes. His horns catch the light as he tilts his head, and that smile—that smile—could peel the skin from your bones.

You scramble to pause the recording, too late, and the sound of his own voice still hangs thick in the air. His grin stretches wider. "Really? That one?"

"I—" Your throat is dry. "It’s not—"

"It’s not creepy," he finishes for you, voice dripping mock-sweet. "Nah, sweetheart. Just adorable. You missed me that much, huh?"

The worst part is, he’s not even mad. If anything, he looks delighted—like you’ve gifted him some precious little secret to tuck under his tongue and savor.

You try—try—to salvage your dignity. "I was just—"

"Just missin’ me," he purrs, pushing off the doorframe. His boots are soundless against the floor as he crosses the room, lazy and predatory, until he’s crowding into your space. "Aw, darlin’… if I knew you were gettin’ this lonely, I’d’ve come home sooner."

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Too close. Too warm. You can feel the heat of him bleeding through your skin, burning you from the inside out.

"You’re enjoying this way too much," you mutter, but it comes out breathless.

He chuckles, dark and indulgent. "Of course I am. My sweet little thing, sittin’ here all alone, playin’ my voice on repeat? That’s the best ego boost I’ve had all week." His thumb brushes the curve of your jaw, deceptively gentle. "Gonna confess how many times you’ve listened, or should I guess?"

You refuse to dignify that with a response.

He laughs—bright and reckless, like you’ve said something funny—and you hate how much you love the sound of it. How much you missed it.

"You’re lucky I think it’s cute," he says, and then—because he’s a menace—he reaches past you to press play.

"Miss me?" his voice whispers again, syrup-sweet.

"Y’know," he murmurs, real and right here, "It’s better live."

Your face is burning. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," he croons, eyes glinting. "You’re obsessed with me."

You should push him away. You should deny it. But your resolve crumbles when he tips your chin higher and leans in close enough for his breath to ghost across your lips.

"So," he murmurs, wicked and warm, "How bad did you miss me, darlin’?"

"Not that bad," you lie, and the smile that breaks across his face is devastating.

"Liar."

The next kiss isn’t soft. It’s a claim—teeth and heat and all the time you’ve been apart poured into the press of his mouth against yours. His hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back, and you let him take—steal—whatever he wants. Because this is the truth between you, raw and undeniable: you missed him. And he missed you too.

He pulls back just enough to breathe you in, thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. "Keepin’ my voice like that," he muses, half-laughing. "God, you’re precious. ‘M gonna start leavin’ you messages on purpose—hell, maybe a whole bedtime story. Would you like that, sweetheart?"

Your stomach flips. "You wouldn’t."

"Oh, I would," he promises, delighted at the thought. "Every night. Just for you. Somethin’ to keep you warm while I’m gone."

He’s still teasing, still playing—but there’s an edge of something real beneath it, something raw and hungry and yours.

And maybe it’s stupid, but you want to keep it. Want to press your fingers to the pulse of him and feel it beat against your skin.

"You’re ridiculous," you say softly.

His smile gentles—just a fraction. "Yeah. But I’m your ridiculous. Don’t forget it."

He kisses you again, softer this time, but no less possessive. And when he finally pulls back, you’re left dizzy, breathless, and aching in a way that no recording could ever match.

"So," he drawls, like he hasn’t just wrecked you, "Gonna play me another one?"

"Get out."

He laughs, bright and reckless, and doesn’t move an inch.

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Eleven : The Great Bedroom Debacle

Series Masterlist

Caleb had never moved this fast in his life.

As soon as they stepped into the apartment, he grabbed Reader’s wrist and pulled her straight into his room—soon to be their room, at least for the next hour or so.

“Okay, we need to make this look real,” he said, glancing around the perfectly organized space. His suitcase was neatly tucked away, his shoes lined up against the wall, and not a single trace of Reader anywhere.

Meanwhile, Reader was staring at the room like she was calculating a battle strategy. “Alright, first we need to make a mess.”

“…What?” Caleb turned to her, baffled.

“Couples don’t keep their rooms this neat,” she pointed out. “There needs to be some chaos. Like—like clothes! Yeah, we need clothes everywhere.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “So your plan is… to trash my room?”

Reader had already started grabbing her clothes from the laundry basket in the hallway, tossing a hoodie onto the bed. Caleb barely dodged a pair of socks.

“This is not how normal people live—”

“Shut up and help me!”

Caleb groaned but reluctantly grabbed a spare sweater and threw it on the chair. “There. Chaos.”

Reader gave him a deadpan look. “You call that chaos?”

He huffed. “I’m a very neat person, okay? Unlike you—”

His words were cut short when he noticed something on the bed.

A mountain of plushies.

Caleb blinked. “What… the hell is this?”

Reader turned around, already hugging a large stuffed cat. “Oh, those? My emotional support plushies.”

Caleb stared at the ridiculous amount of stuffed animals taking up nearly half the bed. “How do you even sleep in here?”

“I make space.”

“For who? The plushies?! There’s no room for a human!” Caleb dramatically gestured to the bed, looking personally offended. “This one has a hat! Why does a stuffed animal need a hat?!”

Reader clutched the plushie protectively. “Sir Whiskers needs his hat.”

“Oh my god.”

Caleb sighed, rubbing his temples. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience—this was a test of his patience.

He started shoving some of the plushies aside, only for Reader to snatch them back, placing them neatly against the pillows.

“We need to compromise,” she said firmly.

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Fine. One plushie stays.”

Reader gasped in horror. “One?!”

“You don’t need a whole army, [Reader]!”

After a dramatic standoff and a few exchanged threats, they finally settled on three plushies—one of which had mysteriously returned to the bed after Caleb tossed it to the floor. He pretended not to notice.

Just as they were barely finishing up, the doorbell rang.

Caleb and Reader froze.

Showtime.

—

Caleb’s mother, Evelyn Xia, stood at the door with a warm smile, and right beside her was Reader’s mother, holding a bag full of food.

“You two are finally home together at the same time!” Evelyn beamed as she stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the apartment.

Reader’s mother, on the other hand, sighed. “You two didn’t even tell me you were living separately until now.”

Reader cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “Ahaha… surprise?”

Evelyn walked past them, her gaze flickering to the hallway. “So, where’s your room?”

Caleb and Reader immediately exchanged a silent look of panic before Caleb gestured toward his room.

“Right here.”

Both mothers stepped inside.

Caleb held his breath.

Reader’s mother squinted at the bed. “Why are there so many stuffed animals?”

Caleb shot Reader a look.

Reader smiled innocently. “Caleb loves them.”

Caleb wanted to scream.

Evelyn let out a hum of approval. “Well, at least it looks like a shared space. Though, Caleb, you really need to let go of some of these plushies.”

Caleb choked. Reader grinned.

After a few more minutes of talking and looking around, their mothers finally placed the food on the table.

“We won’t stay long,” Evelyn said. “I just wanted to check up on you two and make sure everything is going well.”

Reader’s mother nodded. “And to remind you both to take care of each other.”

After a few more pleasantries, the two women finally left, leaving Caleb and Reader standing in the middle of their now-shared room.

The moment the door shut, Caleb exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “That was too close.”

Reader flopped onto the bed. “At least they bought it.”

Silence filled the room before Caleb turned toward her, his expression unreadable.

“…So,” he started, stepping closer.

Reader blinked. “So?”

Caleb leaned against the edge of the bed, staring down at her. “When are you going to be comfortable enough for me to actually stay in my bed?”

Reader sat up slightly. “H-Huh?”

“You know,” Caleb continued, voice casual, but there was something teasing in his tone. “So we don’t have to keep doing this every time someone comes over.”

Reader’s face turned slightly pink. “I—I mean, I just thought you liked the guest room—”

“I don’t.”

She swallowed. “Oh.”

Caleb smirked. “So?”

Reader hesitated before finally huffing, crossing her arms. “Fine. You can stay here.”

His smirk widened. “Oh? Did I hear that right?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

Caleb laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright.”

That night, for the first time since they got married, Caleb and Reader actually shared a bed.

It was late—far past the time Caleb usually fell asleep—but tonight, sleep just wouldn’t come.

Lying on his side, he turned to face Reader, watching as she breathed softly, completely lost in sleep. The dim glow of the city lights outside cast a gentle glow over her face, making her look oddly peaceful.

But then his gaze dropped to the plushie in her arms.

A ridiculous apple-shaped plushie.

Caleb let out a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course.

Rolling his eyes, he reached over and carefully pried the plushie from her grasp. She didn’t even stir.

Without a second thought, he tossed it off the bed.

Good riddance.

Just as he was about to relax, Reader suddenly shifted.

Caleb stiffened.

She blindly reached out, still deep in sleep, her fingers patting around in search of something.

Her brows furrowed. “Mmm… where’d you go…?”

Caleb frowned, about to push her away—until she found something.

Him.

Reader’s arms wrapped around his torso, hugging him close.

Caleb froze.

“…There you are, Colonel Apple…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caleb stared at her, wide-eyed.

Colonel. Apple.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, at a complete loss for words.

She had mistaken him for the damn plushie.

A long sigh escaped him. He considered prying her off, but the way she nuzzled closer made something inside his chest tighten—something warm, unfamiliar.

“…You’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath.

Carefully, he adjusted his position, letting her rest against him properly. He pulled the blanket over them both, his arms instinctively wrapping around her small frame.

She let out a content sigh, nestling even further into his warmth.

Caleb lay there, staring at the ceiling for a moment before shutting his eyes.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Maybe… just maybe… he could get used to this.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos @auriuswolve @bookworm1999 @sickleddreamer @heeknow @zaynessbeloved

[xylatox]

with wings of wax and thread | hik

Another fic from Cam and a Kai fic no less, this interests me so much, unto the review!!

Before I even start, I've always been obsessed with angel and demon themes and the fact that Kai is mode or less fallen makes me more obsessed.

Feathers, soft and white, twisted in the golden glow from the slow-setting sun. Raining down like a thrown stone, sinking and littering the waiting ground. — god the beginning is so enrapturing.

His mouth had filled with blood, the ichor more sugar than iron, his stomach turning from the flavor, or maybe it was the feeling of falling. Flying had been something like this, the air rippling in his hair, every strand kissed with the soft hands of the north wind, a mother's touch. Flying had felt so close to life that even in falling he understood what it meant to have all your memories rush in front of you one last time. Because falling was like the memory of flying, the echo of it so close it was like a shout right in his ear. — this description is absolutely insane what the fuck.

They had come, found your hiding spot, and planned to finish you off, that laugh was only the start. It had not yet turned cruel as it was that day, the parroting of the group still ingrained right behind your ears, following you around no matter how you tried to shake the thoughts. And now they were coming down like a meteor into the only safe space you had ever known. The entrance was hard to maneuver with wings; it only made sense they would have a rough time with landing except there was a giant splash, the water in the moonpool lapping up, the crashing sound like the waves hitting the rocks only now echoing in the carved out cave. — I love this. I am absolutely geeking out over every word so far. It's all phrased so wonderfully. I'm also super interested in reader, she's so intruding. I also love that contrary to typical demon behavior, reader chooses to save Kai, that further makes her such an interesting character.

When they had ripped your wings off you had nothing left to attach, not that you haven't tried, but alone with no help there was no way to reattach wings with your hands. No way to reach behind yourself except to feel the spots they had once been, the jagged scars still there now, the ghost pain of that day still shooting down your back every time you dreamt of that day. — the fact that reader is on her own, it hurts to even think of what she went through.

You had not grown the horns that most of the demons possessed, you could feel the spot they must have wanted to sprout through if they had been given the chance, the area always colder than the rest of your scalp. It had been one of the things they had picked at when taking their dues. — it's so cool that reader is technically demon by birth(?) but lacks all the physical attributes to deem her one, it's makes her even cooler.

Reader's personality!! I love it, I love that there's already thus barrier between them as a result of it.

They had told him never to bite the hand that fed him but this was a forceful hand coming out to get him, twisting its fingers in his hair and pushing his face in the dirt until it was nothing but a given that he had to eat whatever it was that was handed to him. But he listened, taking in each word and trying to keep them as close as he could get them. — Cam...you have such a way with words.

I love that despite the hesitance from reader when they first interacted, it's really sweet now like —“That would be horrible and if you don't listen to me they will be gone, keep your hand away,” you left no room for argument in your tone and Kai listened. He curled his hand into a fist and sat it in his lap. “Today we will let the area breathe and while I’m out we can get whatever we need to make a salve to help the healing process,” Kai nodded knowing that you were right. He didn't even have the first thought of where to start to find out how to help himself. — her caring is super cute.

Also I just wanna say, candle wax is an interesting method to stick the feathers back??? like I wouldn't have thought about it.

He pictured you over and over again in his head. Imagined you with your wings of night in the air next to him, that laugh you had turned his way unlike the one he heard but one he wished you would give him so that he would know something in his dream would be real. This laugh was somewhere caught between a giggle and a sprinkle of light from his fingertips. He locked in on thinking of the laugh over the feeling of flying because it was impossible to not hurt when thinking of the air. But you, thinking of you, felt safe even if it was some kind of hope caught in a dream.  — im going to sob, how could something be so sweet yet so sad.

Kai could not feel the process, not when he was lost in his thoughts. He tried to separate the knowledge of you being a demon away from the proof he had of you being nothing more than someone who was lost. The two could be synonymous is what he reminds himself over again. — :((((

Also the way reader fights over her natural feelings as a demon?? my heart breaks. —But waking up to know he had been here the whole time, knowing that if he had been there he would have helped just the same, settled something inside you that had been overrun with worry. You unfurled your arms from around yourself, throwing them around Kai’s neck and pulling him into a hug. — poor baby.

You whimpered when he brushed over the scars on your back but did not pull away, letting him have a part of you that you would never give to anyone else because he knew what it was like, he knew what it meant, this level of trust rushing into you almost as fast as your coming orgasm. —HELLLLLLIIIIIOOOO??? This was actually so attractive good bye, like the trust, the intimacy behind this???

And then the feathers started to rain. A few white tumbled down along with you as you looked up at him, wax melting from being so close to the sun for only a short time. The edge of his right wing was still tipped in black as if your feathers had infected his mind and thoughts as if they had been the cause of the drop and not the sickening worry he had of losing everything that had just been returned to him. But you could not stop yourself from thinking again of the story you had been told as a child. That demons had been the same as angels, cast out for the bitterness lingering in their near-empty hearts. You two were the same, cast out, and only now did he truly see it. — oh my god. From Kai letting her go to this...it's insane. It reminds me of Icarus :(

If falling felt like flying you would welcome the feeling because anything was better than nothing at all. — oh my god.

I'm so glad I finally got to take my time and read this.

Cam, your writing is beautiful, the way you've described things has left me beyond words. I absolutely love the end where they were both able to relive falling but their emotions were so different at the time. I just love that they're the same ah, this was so amazing♡

with wings of wax and thread

angel!huening kai x demon!fem!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis: In the kingdom of Aethera, an angel is pushed from the heavens. Wings torn and feathers spilling, he finds himself in the den of a demon who wishes to have never been found. Long having lived with your own fall from grace, wingless and bloody just as he is now, you help stitch back up what once was. Can nurtured understanding be crueler than nature? ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings: 🔞!!!demon fem!reader, angel!huening kai, angst, blood, depression, mentions of death and gore, reader talks about being violently attacked, cpr performed, slight open ending that could lead to mc/member death if interpreted that way, unprotected sex, no pull out mention, prob forgot some sorry

⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 19.6k . ݁₊ ⊹

𓅪 ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: I, carrion (icarian) - hozier an: im so in love with this event, the work that all these amzing writers put into this is so astonishing- it’s so wild to participate in something like this when I still feel like a baby writer with so much to learn but thats always the fun bit I guess lol im so happy we could all stretch our creative abilities to come together and make this work <333 thank you for reading!!

[m.list] [aethera!event m.list]

ONCE UPON A TIME… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was… 

Feathers, soft and white, twisted in the golden glow from the slow-setting sun. Raining down like a thrown stone, sinking and littering the waiting ground. 

The fall from grace had been sickly sweet. The shock of that first second of flightlessness was frightening enough to cause Kai to sink his teeth into his tongue. Holding back the staggered scream he wanted to let out, still protecting the ones who wronged him. Who had sent a blistering pain down his back, the cracking of cartilage ringing in his ears as he screwed his mouth shut, pleading with glistening eyes, forgiving them the second that his foot had met nothing but air. 

His mouth had filled with blood, the ichor more sugar than iron, his stomach turning from the flavor, or maybe it was the feeling of falling. Flying had been something like this, the air rippling in his hair, every strand kissed with the soft hands of the north wind, a mother's touch. Flying had felt so close to life that even in falling he understood what it meant to have all your memories rush in front of you one last time. Because falling was like the memory of flying, the echo of it so close it was like a shout right in his ear. 

And he laughed, the sound a strangled choke, fighting its way out from between his lips, teeth stained and heart sinking. He had never felt heavy, not when lifting off the ground was second nature. Kai had imagined his bones had been hollow like a bird's, but plummeting only showed him how led he was lined. Heavy, too much for even the mother's air to carry him, slipping through fingers, through feathers. 

He didn't think that having a wing ripped right from his back would have made so many of his feathers come free, whirling around him, in a thick plume. Maybe it was his wing's way of bleeding. He had witnessed the damaged appendages before on others and they never bled, not unless wounded at the base, right at the shoulder blade. But even his feathers now were dotted with thick spots of blood, the droplets rising instead of falling with him, lighter than his lead bones. He reached out, trying to catch any feathers he could, trying to grasp them as if they would be the edge of a cliff he could pull himself back up from. But he came away with nothing but understanding. 

This was a brutal way to make a grave but it was the hand he had been dealt, the cards pushed into his waiting palms without question. He only hoped the ground wouldn’t damage his wings worse than they already were. Half hanging on by tender threads of pink life, he hoped to tuck whatever was left around him like he had when he was a child, creating a small cave for him and him alone. 

Kai was thinking in full circle thoughts, that crippling adult understanding washing away to childlike hope as he counted the seconds down to when someone would realize he wasn’t catching air, their rush to reach him deterred by the weight of him hurtling towards the waiting dirt. If his bones were not lead-lined they had been made of magnets, his ruined wings having kept him from the realization sooner; the grave always called the body. 

The carrion had made the decent look appealing. Kai had grown up seeing the demons sore up only to tuck their tar-colored wings close to their bodies, looking freer than when Kai stretched his out, the span of his shadow over the sea. If they could feel the thrill of descent he could find it in him to enjoy the last of his sorry life. 

The wind picked up, spinning him, round and round, dizzying and giggling. It was his twinkling laugh that made you look up. The jagged rocks circling his falling form, the ceiling of your cave the perfect opening for him to find himself invading. The sun was setting just enough so that the shadow of him cut deep into you, palms slick as you pushed up from where you sat at the edge of the moon pool, sand coating your fingers as you pressed a hand to your racing heart. Blood rushing in your ears, serpentine fear wrapping around your limbs running a chill down your spine. 

They had come, found your hiding spot, and planned to finish you off, that laugh was only the start. It had not yet turned cruel as it was that day, the parroting of the group still ingrained right behind your ears, following you around no matter how you tried to shake the thoughts. And now they were coming down like a meteor into the only safe space you had ever known. The entrance was hard to maneuver with wings; it only made sense they would have a rough time with landing except there was a giant splash, the water in the moonpool lapping up, the crashing sound like the waves hitting the rocks only now echoing in the carved out cave. 

Everything was getting wet, the water cold to your skin as it dotted your legs, feeling like a burn when you were so shocked. Because as the water settled, the churning sound still worked its way through your skull and it began to rain. The soft white feathers swung down billowing side to side, drifting as if they were a newborn butterfly, always knowing flying was in their bones but never knowing they could do it alone. Drifting to a final stop on water starting to calm. And there sinking to the bottom, face up and eyes closed, was an angel. 

His white wings torn and weighed him down lower and lower to the sandy floor of the pool, the plume of derby shadowing him as he hit the bottom. Hands out on either side of him like someone welcoming in the sun after a long winter, the look you saw before a much needed embrace, not as if you had ever seen it before. 

Stepping to the edge where sand turned to rock you looked back up at the sky, the fading light of the day slipping into hazy darkness, the blue hour working its way over the land before the moon fully made its appearance. But you could only see the slow falling feathers, catching wind and making way in other directions far from where you stood now. If he had been pushed by a demon they would have been on their kill without a second thought, they tracked them without mercy, like the hunters who aimed to play with their food instead of showing it the grace of kindness. If they had hit to watch him run they would have chased until it was over not let him sink in this water so far from home. They would have wanted the angels to see what they had done to such a pretty face. 

Because he was pretty, even in dying. The last bubbling breaths fluttered to the surface until they broke through the tension. You trembled, cold all over from the moment's rush of fear that was still coursing through you, hands clenching and unclenching as you thought over what to do with him. In the water he could rot without much worry to you, the fish would pick him over but it wasn't as if you got many swimming around anymore. The sea folk had warned of swimming too close to your pool, for the first couple months of you finding shelter in the hollow cave, the fish had been your only source of sustenance. But the sea folk kept to their own, even the lowest of the food chain, warning them about you had been easy enough. So his body would rise unless his wings found themselves lodged under a rock. 

You were ready to turn, find company in him even if he was at the bottom of the water until a single lone feather caught your attention. Eyes tracing the swaying descent like a cat following the trail of a mouse. Bleached white like a bone, pearlescent once it landed on the now still water, cupped like a curved leaf or petal. And there, dotted like a heart, was a single spot of blood. You could remember the way your own feathers looked, black enough for the blood to seep in and disappear like it had never existed. 

It had felt like drowning the day you found yourself here. Falling from where they had dropped you had hurt, the salt water burning your open wounds like a quick scratch from a cat. Your mouth full of the ocean, choking and suffocating you as you claw for anything to grasp. They had left you, the rain of black feathers not unlike this angel's white ones now. Only you had been still fighting, ripping at the hold that death had on you because in death you would have to go back to some kind of hell and you wouldn't be able to survive an eternity with your worst moments, not when at that peak they felt that excruciating. 

The angel now had given up, his twitching hand slowing to a stop. If the day you had found yourself drowning in this very pool had been your worst you would not let the same death kill someone else when you knew that it had been survivable. You would not take the name of your brethren as a brand but only the burden as it was, this action a shoulder shake to lessen its hold. So you dove in. 

You had reached the bottom before, the sandy ground only six feet deep, a proper grave for when your arrow rang true on the rare fish that came in. They sank from how heavy the weight of their death hit them. But they had never been truly heavy and you still felt weak in comparison to the other demons you should have taken after. It wasn't until you reached him that you realized you would have to touch him to take him to the surface. 

Your hands slid around his wrist, trying to lift him just enough to get your arms under his. Legs kicked behind you as you struggled to keep yourself in the right position, lungs constricting. He was lighter than you imagined and it was mostly because of the water's help, but his wings, broken, bent, and barely hanging on, weighed him down, hanging behind him like a sheet torn to bits. 

Kicking and kicking you went, feet pushing against the rocky walls lined with coral, sharp enough to cut into your feet. Blood was darkening the small space, his and yours, mixing as you went. The need to breathe begged at your aching lungs, throat tight with the need. He was so limp, no help as you finally broke the surface, gasping air by the mouthful as you reached an arm out for the edge. 

It hasn't crossed your mind how you would pull him out only that it was better to have his head above the water than below it. But you tried, not caring if he got scratched up as you pushed him needing to get him halfway out of the water so he was easier to pull out. Your grunts turned into near cries, he was heavier and heavier the more you pushed him out of the water, sopping body, wings, and clothes adding on to the bricks piled up you felt you were pushing out. When he was halfway up when your arms weak, you pulled yourself out of the water. No time to take a breather as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists. You groaned, putting all your weight back, tugging and tugging until he was just feet resting in the bloody water. 

Your arms are trembling, half limp only held up with the adrenaline crossing through you from the fear that was still making its way through your veins. Pushing him onto his back his partially open mouth looked as if he had already gone and died, effort wasted if you gave up now. You had never been taught the art of saving anyone but you knew what you would want if someone had been kind enough to lift a hand to help you. Fingers locked together you press on his chest, shoulders burning with the effort. Dripping water fell from your chin as you went, the droplets sliding down his cheeks like tears as you cursed. “Don't,” it was all you could make out from your clenched teeth, a demand that he not die right here, right now. Sand digging into your legs, grains between each feather pressed under him, turning them golden as the fading light hit in just right. 

You pressed so hard you felt your arms out snap, elbows locked, chest heaving in the way you wanted him to and then he coughed. The strangled choke like a morning bell, that slim chance of promise of another day. His body jerked to life, shocked like lightning he bolted, turning to the side and vomiting a mess of sea. Your nose scrunching as you sat back,  joints electrified and shot, you fell back into the sand, watching the high mouth of the cave as you listened to him continue his fit. 

In the time you had spent in the Moolpools cave it was easy to only make small movements, you hardly went out unless you were truly hungry enough to risk it. This had been the most motion you had done in a long time, and now you knew exactly why it was easy for them to target you. You felt weak, you were weak, this was only proof enough. But you had saved him, if even for a second, and they would have thought you weak for that too. 

You could hear their laughs right behind your ears. You had not been facing the sky then, but you had hoped, their hands forcing your face into the dirt. Childish demon cruelty taken a step too far even in the eyes of the elders. It had taken you a long time to catch your breath then, your lungs never obeying you but it's another reason why they had believed you dead, the sudden stillness that had taken over your body as the pain made its way through you. You wondered if your angel felt that way now. Only you had been kind enough to let him see the sky before he slipped into unconsciousness. 

Because he had, as you regained your strength to look at him, eyes closed, breathing rapid and uneven. You had given him a chance and now you didn't know what to do with him. His wings were bent and broken. Hardly any feathers clinging to the frail bones they had been attached to. It would be hell to fix them, pain unimaginable to bind and snap them back into place, stitch them together, and pray for some way to make them better again. You stood over him, the white shirt that had once been billowing in the wind was now transparent and clinging to his skin, the thread strong and fine. 

When they had ripped your wings off you had nothing left to attach, not that you haven't tried, but alone with no help there was no way to reattach wings with your hands. No way to reach behind yourself except to feel the spots they had once been, the jagged scars still there now, the ghost pain of that day still shooting down your back every time you dreamt of that day. And on the worst days, you could imagine them still behind you, heavy and protective, enough to curl yourself into your personal space, alone in the dark velvet home you had been born with already built in. Wishing they were back was worse than knowing the pain of them being taken away. And even as a demon, you would not be so cruel as your brethren had been to leave you without so much as the one thing that should never be taken from a person, angel or not. 

You still had your embroidery kit, the soft bag had been tied to your finger the day they had ruined you. The thread was dark, dyed to match the rocky mountains you had been sewing into the fabric. You wonder if they had burned your work after you were gone. All the hard hours doing the thing that you had hoped would get you by in the underworld. People loved to be flashy, spend on extravagant things, and there had been nothing more extravagant than the garments you had embroidered. 

Tucked in the bottom of the small pouch was a thin sharp pair of scissors, the handle shaped like a bird, wings laid back with its beak glossed in gold. They had been a gift when you started to learn, your needles next to them clicking around, silver and all different sizes. Everything was so small, your only weapon that day as if it would hurt them. They Had been useless but they would be put to work now. He would need to be wiped of the sand before you went in and started to clean the wounds enough to see where you would have to help sew him back together. 

You had collected a fair amount of things having lived in the cave for so long, your stash that was similar to a magpies, pretty but never something you used. Sometimes you would find things and keep them just because you might want them because it was better having something over nothing. The crate of glass bottles filled with alcohol is one of those things. It had washed up on the beach after a ship had hit the rocks, too close during a storm to leave anyone alive in the mess. You had picked over the wreckage just as the carrion you were nicknamed after. Someone would have wanted it and so you had taken it just because of that fact, if the gold meant nothing to you but everything to another you would have it, as was your nature. Now you could use it, uncork the bottle, and pour it over his back if you could get him to roll over again. 

Kai did not see you move to the dark corner where your stash was hidden when he blinked himself awake. In his confusion his lungs still felt full, his throat constricting as if he was waking in the water and not beside it, choking because his mind was trying to catch up to his reality. He hurt all over, his chest and stomach scratched and burning, heavy with an ache of bruised ribs. His back was on fire, screaming at him, begging him to scratch and rip at the pain. It made him whimper, the only sound that could come out from his raw throat. 

He could not think past anything but the look of the sky above him and not behind him as he fell. And when you showed yourself, a bottle of clear liquor in one hand and a small pouch in the other, he believed you to be a human stumbling upon him on a lone beach. He had not seen many humans, accustomed to staying up in the heavens with his brethren. And how could he have known what you really were when you were wingless? You had not grown the horns that most of the demons possessed, you could feel the spot they must have wanted to sprout through if they had been given the chance, the area always colder than the rest of your scalp. It had been one of the things they had picked at when taking their dues. 

To them, you had been no demon without the markers they had been so used to seeing, your wings the only thing tying you down to their depths. Even your power had been faint, strong enough to only wave a candle's flame to life, no roaring forest fires and destruction.  To Kai, in that moment you were nothing more than a girl who looked like the saving grace he had been begging so fiercely for when falling. 

For an angel, his dark eyes cut through you like knives. You had not been looked at so intensely since the attack, people who caught a glance had known to keep going and turn away. This gaze was a line of glimmering hope that he had thrown around your shoulders tightening until it was nothing but a collar of expectations tugging you forward. You had been taught to crush looks that felt suffocating, praise broken bonds, and burnt bridges before ever letting someone take you for a helping hand and honest heart. “Do not look at me like I'm something to be thankful for,” 

It was not the first thing that he had expected you to say to him. Not when he was so close to thinking you to be some sort of angel like him without the matching wings. Your voice cut through him, sharp and demanding, nearly as painful as it had been to wake up like this. Everything was falling apart; his body, his grip, which he had believed to be tight, around his good faith in people. But you had pulled him out of the water and maybe he had come to expect too much from people. A package deal that had been wrapped up in the warped expectations of the angels. Not that most of them followed the rules, but it was better to hide behind the guise of kindness than the truth of wrongdoing and instinctual indifference. 

The fallen angel only blinked back at your words instead of taking them in, eyes softening at the realization that it had been you alone to pull him out, your chin still dripping with the saltwater that stung the open wounds on his back. He could not do anything but look at you thankfully because it was the only thing he could focus on feeling without turning back into a pit of despair that had let him give up the second he had hit the water. Thinking even about that second of thought that would have led to forever was nothing but crushing rocks landing on his back heavier than the wings still trying to hang on by nothing but thin ribbons of flesh. 

And in truth what the look did was make you nervous. Like some lone schoolgirl who couldn't be under the pressure of her class watching a presentation. It frustrated you to no end, twisting a bloody knuckled hand around your insides and tugging them down to your knees. He was in no way able to make a move to hurt you that you wouldn't see coming first. You knew the small cave better than anyone alive and he was weak, his hands opening and closing limply like the steady wings of a butterfly resting. And all his feeble voice could muster up in response was, “Thank you,” 

The words strung together felt like thrown stones hitting you one after the other. You had been kicked out of your home and told you were no more demon than the humans roaming the castles pretending to play ruler and kingdom. To be told thank you for saving anyone, or even more specifically an angel’s, life was the final nail in your coffin. Every last thing they had said to you as they ripped your wings from your shoulders buried deep enough to burn, those two words sprouting from the grave to show the fruits of your tormentor's labor. The final stamp to seal the truth of your wrongfulness. 

It would have been easier to kill him then, easier than having to hold him down as you tried to help him, and easier than pulling him up from the depths of the moon pool. But they had been right to call you a sympathizer, right in calling you weak because looking at him needing you it was impossible to turn him away. “I'm going to hurt you,” it was a warning bell, the echo of your voice mimicking the sound of some faint prophetic truth. It was not your intention to cause pain on him but the only way that you could help him. It was easier to confess to that than to say you would try and fix him. 

But Kai did not listen, he did not care if you hurt him so long as it made his mind stop working over his last thoughts. The blinking of tears the second he had been pushed had made him feel little again, a child wondering why bad things happened at all. Why would someone push him, why would someone rip his wings until they were nothing but dead weight trying and failing to hold on to their last breath, drowning him, pulling him under into nothing but darkness? He had been wronged more than he thought would ever happen to him and if those who claimed to be honest, kind people,were the ones who hurt him, what was there to believe when those claiming to hurt him had done nothing but pull him free from death? It was a mess of contradictions and his gut was not helping him pick sides. He was a mix of emotions that felt hollow like a long dead tree waiting for a victim to fall into and perish just the same. Being hurt meant nothing to a newly found desolate creature, betrayed, and seeking grace. 

And so he would let you hurt him because he had nothing to lose, no more to give but turn over and let you try whatever it was that you had planned to help fix him. It was like a mutual understanding had fallen over the two of you like a blanket. He saw the bottle in your hand and knew, watched your fingers as they pulled out the needle, watched the way the metal turned red and you started to heat it enough to sterilize it. It was then that he knew what you were. 

It did not make him cringe, not when he knew that to have a demon at his back was akin to death incarnate welcoming themselves to twist a knife right into his spine. He knew that there were hardly enough people on this island who would have helped him enough to the point that they wouldn’t have gotten ill at the sight of his blood. Demons had steady hands; they did not tremble and they did not cower away from gore. To have been stumbled upon by a demon as generous as you were was a blessing he could not fight back against. 

So he let you turn him over, your warm hands working to take off his shirt, cutting it away until it was nothing but scraps, his face pressed into the sand, the grains catching in his lashes. You were gentle with him, laying out his wings that had lost most of their feelings, numb all the way up until they hit the spots right where they were supposed to be connected. It was the only place he could feel the pain anymore, his lungs and throat secondary to the pain he was feeling right there at the root of him. If everyone else had worn their hearts on their sleeves angels had found a way to wear their hearts on their back, their life source, and now it was screaming at him. 

You picked over the scraps of his shirt, peeling away the thread in long stands, looping the thread around your fingers, and making a small ball for you to pull from as you worked. He kept his eyes closed, lashes laying so peacefully across his cheeks as if he was dreaming in the moonlight and not waiting for you to put him back together. There was no going back the second you started, not unless you picked him apart again just to see the way he looked again while hurt. The thought made you feel a bit sick. The intrusion of it is either your mind trying to work around the situation or your faint demon instinct kicking in, playing with the idea until you fall into the trap of it. 

But it was still enticing even if it was sickening. You were so alone and bored, with nothing to do and no one to see. You had been hurt and had not yet found the outlet for that pain even years later, this was the perfect opportunity and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything but cringe the second you straddled his back. Holding him down with the weight of you as you poured the liquor over his wounds and watched him writhe from the pain. There was little enjoyment to find here. 

Kai tried to keep his mouth shut nearly as tight as his eyes but the second the first wave of the anesthetic washed over him he could not help himself from screaming. It echoed around the cave, loud enough to find itself spilling from the cave's top entrance. If anyone had been walking around they would have run, believing some wolf had gotten too far from the woods and taken a victim. You did not try to shush him, just placed your warm palm in the center of his back and pushed him back down, trying to keep him still even if it was an impossible task at that point. 

Then the first stitch came. It was easier to hold back, easier to try and focus on anything else but the blinding pain he was feeling, it was something other than the emptiness settling over him. He could not think of anything good coming from this, could not see himself going home again, to see his friends, the ones who had pushed him, his mother, his sisters. There was nothing but shame and treachery. They would have welcomed him back even wingless but there was no way for him to ever feel at home again, not when he knew what it was like to be nothing but air and death. 

He did not care if he did not move from that spot, the sand the only thing grounding him as he sunk his fingers in curling them until he could feel nothing but his mind trying to work and count every grain he could imagine on his skin. It was nothing but a tactic to let the pain wash away for even a second. He didn't even realize he was crying until the wetness was making more sand stick to his cheek. The soft rumbling of his whimpers mixed in with the faint groans he would release after a particularly tender part of the stitching. 

“You are very lucky to have me, when they took my wings I had nothing to do but bury the one they had left hanging. I don't know what it had looked like but I do know that it felt like this,” you were muttering, talking to yourself and letting the words come out without a filter just as you did when he hadn't been here. “I would have wanted even the one to be stitched back but I remember the pain and I'm-” The word sorry was not one that came from you often or at all, there was little you could do but say it now but still your throat caught. “I would not wish it on anyone,” 

Your fingers worked fluently, picking up the memory of the old stitches you had perfected long ago in a life you did not care to remember. This was nothing but an old way of passing time that you had practiced over and over again. You had never stitched up flesh and blood but it was no different now than it had been then. In a way, it was a comfort you should not have found in the task but it was impossible not to. 

“I do not know how well this will work but I will try,” his wings, covered in sparse feathers, twitched every once in a while as you carefully threaded your needles, tightening the stitches and watching the way the wings came back to life like a marionette doll pulled at its strings. It was hope and nothing more. 

Kai couldn't grit out any more words, the sound of your voice washing over him like a balm but nothing more. He wanted to hate you but knew it was necessary to feel this way when it came to pain. They had told him never to bite the hand that fed him but this was a forceful hand coming out to get him, twisting its fingers in his hair and pushing his face in the dirt until it was nothing but a given that he had to eat whatever it was that was handed to him. But he listened, taking in each word and trying to keep them as close as he could get them. 

Tried to imagine you with dark wings at your back. The silky feathers always shined so nicely in comparison to his white ones. His wings had looked plush and downy, nothing like the oily temptation of the demons. But he could not get the image around his head, could not see what it looked like any more than what it would look like to go home again. It was with you in his mind that he passed out, eyes closing until there was nothing but peaceful darkness where he had no reason to think of hurtful homecomings and angels dressed as death. 

You noticed almost as soon as he fell into the pain. Body going slack underneath you, all of his muscles loosening before he was nothing but twitching nerve ends from each insertion of the needle. It was not delightful work but clean and concise, the expert precision of a fiber works artist long since skilled in their field. Every so often your fingers struggled to keep hold of the slipping needle, the tips of each digit dipped in crimson as you went on with your task. And even as he lay there you went on with your muttering. “We will have to look for more feathers, only a few fell in here, I still have a couple but I don't know how well you will feel looking spotted like a pigeon,” 

For a long time, you had been sick at the sight of the clutch of feathers that you had kept from your wings long gone. It had been nothing but pain to see them, the sight cutting into you like a knife just sharpened on a whetstone. You had wanted to bury them right along with the wing you had put to rest, ripped the rest of the way from your back from your own hands, and yet you couldn't part with them just as you couldn't let go of the needles from your past life. 

Helping him right now, pinching skin to pierce through and thread, felt like it was somehow stitching up a bit of yourself. You acted fast almost as soon as he was out of the water because it was the way you would have wanted someone to help you. Without discrimination, just understanding. They had given you no chance and if you could not give it to yourself you would give it to someone not far off from you. Because you knew what it was like to live here stuck wingless with nothing to do but try not to rot like some discarded apple. It had taken everything in you to help yourself once you had let go of your past life. The feeling was nothing like you had ever felt before. 

It was emptiness, no more and no less, just an expanse of nothingness that unraveled the farther and farther you went into the recesses of your mind. To pull yourself from that pit and find some kind of routine was nothing short of a miracle. But if someone had been waiting here, even if they didn't pull you out of the water but took the wing you had and gave you the hope to live with that once comfort would have been better than nothing. Even if he didn't have full control over his wings like before he would still have his childhood home still there right at his back protecting him when no one else had. If you could give him that it was enough. 

But then when the sewing was done there was nothing to do but let him rest. The work you had done was as neat as it could be, the prickling skin around the base of each wing would hold steady and let the skin heal. You stood looking over him, sleeping with his soft cheek on the sand, his hair once wet now dry and resting against his sleeping brow. Angelic was the only word that would surface and it felt silly to attach something so obvious to him. He was nothing but angelic down to the bone; to his blood. But even still freckled in dried blood and his half-feathered wings you could tell it was written all over him fallen or not. 

You had seen little of the angels when growing up but occasionally they made a pass over the moonpool's mouth. Their bell-like laughter twinkled like the stars in the night that they flew with. They had seemed so far off and distant. But what you had been told about them was that they were nothing but selfish and self-righteous. Underneath the beauty was callous arrogance, they helped others but only if they had already achieved more and found that they could take the last step without them. Take help but never give credit unless it is beneficial to them to say, drop everything to look good, or fend for themselves. 

They had said all demons had shared blood with the angels, until one was banished, the bitterness infecting their souls until their wings turned ebony with rage and the promise of revenge. The story had been on your mind the second they had picked on you for being weak, wondering if somehow your blood had run thin and showed assets of your long since dead ancestors who had seen the heavens and walked with wings of ivory at their backs. Because although you found yourself thinking cruel things you did not dream to be a cruel person. 

So you cleaned him up as best you could, cleaning the blood from your hands and his back, taking the time to take your wet cloth over his feathers to try and clean them as best as you could. You watched his wings twitch in response every so often but he did not stir, there was little you could do in terms of his pain, little more you could do if he found himself with an infection. You could hardly keep yourself alive in the space, you don't get many fish unless you make it out to the beach at night, or find a rabbit in the woods easy enough to catch with a trap. Two mouths to feed was a limit you would have to push yourself to reach. 

But it was something you would think about in the morning, not when the sun was gone and the cave was dark enough that the only thing you could see was the faint glow of the moonpool. The water reflected onto the walls of the cave, washing everything in an eerie blue hue that minced what it would have looked like if you plunged in and swam with the sea folk. It was one of the few beautiful things you could indulge in and yet now you could add to the list because you had him to look at. 

Without turning your back to him you found your usual spot against the wall, the perfect place so that it was just hidden in the dark with the view to see the ceiling's entrance. There was nowhere else to look with him blocking the water as you lay down, back pressed up against the smooth stone wall, washing your heated skin with the faint coolness it had been seeking. You traced the lines of his sleeping face, scared to fall asleep with him so close. Wishing that in that moment you had your own wings to wrap you up, block you from the fear of waking up with him so near with nothing but questions and demands. 

You curled up with your small blanket, tucking it under your chin keeping the angel in sight. It was only when your lashes were fluttering closed that you noticed his eyes start to peek open. He only blinked faintly, a tremble starting in his arms but he was unable to move them. Kai felt weak, drained of everything, vision blurry with the sight of you lying down in the blue darkness. 

Whatever fear you had before was slowly washing away with the look of pain written all over him. He had no way of hurting you when he could hardly breathe properly from the pain. “What is your name?” you could not keep calling him the angel in your head or out loud. 

Your whisper carried in the room and he closed his eyes at the sound, it had been what he had heard before he passed out and it only made his mind feel at ease, something to grab onto in the pain. “Huening kai,” it was low and the only thing in the whole room besides the two of you. 

“You need to rest Kai, tomorrow we have to look for any feathers that may have dropped around the beach or the woods,” but Kai didn't care about that, not when he was still trying to find more of you to hold onto. 

“What’s-” he couldn't think of the rest of the sentence, not until it was tumbling into him like the rocks off the side of a cliff. He wanted to know your name and hold onto it so he could attach it to the thoughts and memories he was building of you in his head. “What's your name?” He was looking through his lashes only able to keep his eyes open the smallest bit because even that had felt like it took too much energy, the small twitches of his fingers taking most of the rest of his will. 

For a second you could not remember what you had been called before you were just you, because in here, alone, no one asked and no one cared. But it came back to you like the moon had come back each night, there was no forgetting it even if it sounded foreign on your tongue after so many years. Saying it, Kai could hear how unsure you felt until you repeated it again for him. 

So that's how he said it in his head, the slight second between the two the repentance following the state of his mind, that question lingering at the last syllable, and the sigh of content following the tail end when he said it again. So he let it go over and over in his head, counted the letters like sheep jumping over him, letting the thought of you lull him back to sleep instead of the pain. And you followed right after him, sleeping fitfully because every time you heard a small hitch in his breathing you had to make sure he was still alive. Make sure that your effort has not gone to waste. 

And he did live through the night and with your aid you helped him sit up in the morning. Watching him ball his fist and rub at his cheek to rid it of the sand that had built up. He looked like a cherub fallen to the stone and looking up in the foreground of the painting waiting for someone to notice his absence. Because all he could think about was if anyone missed him, if they knew what had happened to him and how he had been pushed instead of just caught in some wind he could not find control in as if he was little and learning to use his wing again. They must have said something, maybe they had blamed a demon for what had happened. 

But now with your eyes on him, watching him as you made to clean his back again, checking if in the night there was no more redness or sign of illness, he could not think to see a demon the same again. Here you were being a complete contradiction to everything he had ever been told in his life. Demons were nothing but troublemakers who thought nothing about others. They kept to themselves and made fun by bringing people down. There was no room for him to think about how good a demon could be to anyone let alone an angel like him. 

Sitting up, letting your warm hands look over his back, he wanted to lean into the touch, let you care for him until he could find a way to fly right out of here. There was no way that he could repay you for something like this, nothing for him to do but sit in the silence you had built around you. But he wanted to break it, crack against the hold that the stillness had over him, and scream at the top of his lungs and curse the heavens even if he had forgiven them for so much already. 

He did not know if he deserved what had happened to him but he understood that it had happened and there was nothing for him to do but take it. Cursing and screaming would do nothing but make him bitter and bitterness took too much from the soul, it drained people and he needed all the energy he could get. “Thank you,” it was again the only thing that he could think to say. 

“I told you it would hurt,” because every brush of your fingers to check your work was making him suck in the air between his clenched teeth, the sound fast and snakelike. 

“Would there have been another way to do it without pain?” it was nothing but a question to poke fun. Kai wanted to lighten the mood but it did not help the situation. 

“Do you think my kind would have taken it if so?” you didn't care to look at his blinking reaction, because as much as he knew you were his only option he still held some kind of grudge against demons. It was written all over his face and you didn't even have to see it to know. It shut kai up in a slip second of shame for thinking the instant no. 

“You're helping me nonetheless,” his hand reached across his body to press at his shoulder, delicate fingers so close to the torn flesh. 

You waved his hand away, “don't touch it, the worst thing would be an infection,” 

“The worst thing would be to lose them all together,” he did not say it to be mean or pick at you, he was not like your kind in that way where they know the thing that would tear you down and pick that option every time. No, he was just stating his truth and he was not lying. Infection could be helped but losing them would be closer to death. It was nothing but words but it made your back burn. 

You had heard of ghost limbs, the feeling of a hand still being there after it had been cut clean off. People believed they could scratch the limb if they thought hard enough to get rid of the feeling. You didn't know how real the feeling would be until you were there with your wing buried in the woods, the other long lost and tossed in a fire if you knew how any of them would have cleaned up the mess they made. If anything was to tear into you it was that first night where everything ached. Your back where the scabs started to turn to scars began to itch and the feeling traveled down to where there was nothingness but the hope of where your wings would resprout if that was ever an option. You wanted to wrap them around you and wished if you felt the ghost of anything it would be the home they had helped you feel but all you had felt was pain. A pain you could not help because there was nothing to do but let it work its way through your system. The pain was not an itch; not so easily taken care of. 

“That would be horrible and if you don't listen to me they will be gone, keep your hand away,” you left no room for argument in your tone and Kai listened. He curled his hand into a fist and sat it in his lap. “Today we will let the area breathe and while I’m out we can get whatever we need to make a salve to help the healing process,” Kai nodded knowing that you were right. He didn't even have the first thought of where to start to find out how to help himself. 

“Can you try and pull your wing in,” you didn't want to push him so early but you needed to know if it was worth the trip to even go out and look for feathers if he could not use them. 

For Kai, it felt like an impossible question to answer. He felt distant from his heart back, like he was cut in half but then he felt your fingertips, the feeling of them dragging along the edge of his wings, tracing the span of them and following the curve. “Can you feel that?” This was easier because it was the only thing he could focus on. The heat of you was constant, radiating from your body onto his like a blanket he wished he could pull in closer. 

“Yes,” it was shallow as he followed the feeling in his mind. He had never been sensitive to touch on his wings, he knew others could feel any brush of their feathers but he felt nothing until now. If he had lost the ability to fly he had gained the ability to have sensation right along the spot he feared he would lose anyway. 

You curled your fingers around the top of his wings slowly following the natural way they folded into themselves and helped him push them close to his back. Kai groaned but it was not as horrible as he expected it to be. With your help, he found whatever connection he had lost because now he could keep them pulled in without your help. But you still helped to tuck the other one close just as neatly, checking around his stitches to make sure they could handle the movement without being impossibly stiff. 

The sight made you clench your jaw. Jealousy had not been a familiar feeling here but it was alive and well now. But it did not matter, you could be jealous and still help him. But you had to get up and turn away, busy yourself with finding your own feathers, the ones you kept at the bottom of your stash of things, making sure they didn't accidentally get seen by you when you didn't want the reminder. 

It had felt easy to say you would give them to him in the moment but the second you pushed aside the spare clothes you had and laid eyes on them it was like saying you would clip off your fingers and let him use them on his own hands. You let the stack of clothes fall right back into place, picking up the loose shirt you could find that would button over him. He would have to wear it backwards because it was not made with wings in mind but there was nothing else for you to do unless he wanted to walk around shirtless. 

But Kai was thankful pushing his arms through the sleeves and leaving the buttons for you to do up for him. You made sure to keep yourself from brushing him accidentally, no need to touch him more than you needed to as you secured the fabric around him. But Kai instantly missed your warmth the second you pulled away. 

“The only way out is up but it's nothing too bad, you only need to raise your arms about this high,” you demonstrated, “it's mostly leg work,” 

“You want me to leave?” he didn't know why it was the first thing he would think, you had just told him about collecting materials to help him but as soon as the words left your mouth all he could think was no don't kick me out don't push me like them, as if you could hear him you shook your head. 

“Do angels only sit around when faced with adversity or do they get up and work?” you slung your bag over your shoulder, slipping both arms in to have it securely against your back. When going out it was the only thing that felt comfortable enough to have at your back when you had little else. “If you want to stay, I say we work together to make sure that we can keep you here for a bit longer, but I cannot do everything and you cannot stay forever. Tonight we only need a few things,” 

“Okay,” Kai stumbled to stand, feeling unstable and wobbly enough to reach out for the walls to hold him up. 

“You can stay here for tonight, rest more if you're not up for it,” 

“No,” it was a slight snap back against the way he was feeling. It was not only because he was feeling weak but because he did not like to sit around doing nothing, he did not want to wait for you to come back or worse wait and think that you were never coming back for him. He's sure that is something a demon would do, leave him here without help just to see how long he would stay without the help. But he was thinking badly because he didn't want to face his own truth, “I need to do something,” anything would be better than sitting around and thinking up ways to hate you over nothing at all. Because there was nothing to hate you over, you had done nothing that would make him hate you but the longer he stayed up with his thoughts they seemed to poison the image of you slowly. And he could not do that to his savior. 

“Fine, you can go first so that I can make sure you don't fall back,” and you had been telling the truth about the way out, the grooves of the walls made perfect spaces for his feet to fit. Only after a few steps up did he have to raise his arms to try and hold himself steady as he kicked his feet out the top of the opening. It was only possible because the side you had set him to get out of was shorter than the rest of the jagged ring of rocks forming the entrance of the cave. And as soon as he was out it was easy to sit and rest with his legs dangling into the open mouth as if he would just jump right into the water he had nearly died in. 

You had no trouble pulling yourself up and out, the rock smoothed down from the amount of time that you had made the trip up even if you avoided it most times. “There is no other way in or out?” Kai asked as you showed him the way down to the grassy underbrush. 

“You could swim in and out, it's not very practical but it's better that way if you want to make sure no one sees you coming in. But I don't think that would be good for you and you have to hold your breath for a long while,” Kai could not think about what it would be like to go back into the water after yesterday, he's sure he would instantly imagine himself drowning again. 

Instead, he focused on following you and your steps through the thick mess of trees surrounding the spot where you had made your home. Distantly he could hear the sea, the soft crashing of waves on the shore lightening as the two of you went until he saw the first blood-dotted feather. 

His wings twitched at the sight, the soft white tucked in between the branches and leaves of a tree. He was silent as he watched you pluck it between your fingers, reaching it like you were picking up a gold coin found on heads for luck. “You will tell me eventually why it is you fell from the heavens won't you?” he watched you twist the feather, examining the dark dried crimson stains. 

“There is little of a story there,” he was clenched all over, fists and jaw tight as you held the feather out for him to take, “you hold it,” he jutted his chin out, the only movement he could bring himself to make or else he would fall apart. 

Kai had gone through many feathers of different sizes growing up. Preening them and feeling grateful to have grown fully so that they did not fall out as often as they had when growing from downy softness to strong enough to let him fly. But it was different to see them like this. He knew they should not be in your hand, or even his. They should not be spread around the woods like bunches of snow that had not yet melted with the coming spring. But it was as if the longer he looked out over the expanse of woods in front of the two of you the more speckles of white he caught mixed in with all the green. 

He was frozen in his spot, stuck just looking out at all the pieces of himself spread out like nothing more than a chess board thrown to the ground, with no intention of being picked up after a soiled game. You could see in him the same kind of evil that was in you twisting itself around your brain the second you moved that stack of clothes and saw your own feathers. When you were young they meant nothing because they had always been there but once it started to go away, once it was nothing more than a pile in front of you it made you feel small and insignificant. 

“When they first ripped my wing it didn't hurt like I had imagined it would have,” you had been frozen, stuck like a kitten who had been picked up by the scruff of its neck. You had looked up with eyes that nearly rolled in your skull the second you realized what had happened. How could you not have felt something so huge? Maybe it was because you could not see it, your mind not catching up with your body until seconds later and it was all you could think to feel. There had been blood, slick down your back and on your fingers as you reached to try and hold onto anything that was left. “For a second you almost think you can fly away from the pain,” 

Kai watched your eyes go unfocused, lost in a thought that had been his reality just the day before. It was almost as if he could feel that foot pressed right into his back again. His ‘friend’ with the heel of his boot cutting into Kai’s spine. He had asked him to look out over the edge of the last cliff, claiming to have seen carrion flying around too close for comfort. It was only a second, looking over the edge so high up he knew that if he flew down and caught the wind that it would be a rush he could never replicate. 

The boot had been nothing but a second before his hands had been on his wings pulling them back until that sickening crunch and tear. It had happened so fast kai had felt nothing until it was all too late. 

“There is always a story and you don't have to tell me yours but know that if I could get revenge on the ones who took my ability to fly, I wouldn't hold back from repeating over and over the same pain they inflicted on me,” you tucked his feather into your bag, “they wouldn't think twice about you so don't give them the grace of never speaking up for what they did to you,” 

“You’d think that because you're a demon,” and for the first time Kai saw you crack a smile, a twisted tarnished thing. 

“We are not too different, the only thing that sets us apart is you thinking you are any better than me. You forget we both woke up in that cave only I was alone and you had me, and how lucky for you that I'm nice and don't just build you up to pull you right back down again,” you turned walking because you needed the distance, “go back if you can't see that we are the same,” 

“My first thought wouldn't have been to hurt someone I helped,” Kai kept pace with you, watching you pick up each one of his feathers as you went. 

“Just because I say I resist hurting you physically does not mean that what you say or think cannot hurt me. You want to freely throw your judgment around and stick a label onto me, reducing me to nothing but blood I did not ask to be born with and still you cannot see how we are exactly the same. We are only doing the same thing in different seasons, only one of us is plain as day and the other is hidden behind some thick smokescreen allowed in whatever game we have found ourselves,”  he could tell there was no room for argument with you. Set in some demon way that made you want to burn instead of heal. But even he knew he was just being bitter, proving you right even if he didn't say it out loud. 

He was grateful and he was upset, he had been a pot of water his whole life and it had never been set above a fire until right now and the bubbling was unwelcome and made him itch all over. He didn't see the reason for revenge when there was no way for him to get back up to the heavens without walking up the stairs and that would feel more shameful than coming back wingless. The only thing he could feel about the topic was that if it had been him or you he's not too sure that it would have been him you would have picked to help. But even he couldn't hide from the truth of wanting to pick himself every time. 

So he kept his mouth shut knowing there was nothing he could say that would make him look better and nothing he could say to make you look worse because faintly you were right about the both of you being so similar. He followed you like a lost puppy, watching you pick over the brush, collecting pieces of him until you found every part of the set to make enough of a picture. You were careful with them, fitting them all together in a neat stack and wrapping a loose string of thread around them to keep them from spilling all over again. 

By the time you two had combed most of the area, the sun was setting into nothing but stars. Two handfuls of feathers and a pit in Kai’s stomach made for little conversation. Keeping his eyes on his footfalls he did not see what it was that made you tense up until it was right there burning in the distance. 

A little ball of fire, dancing seemingly above nothing but the air. A Willo-the–wisp, bright enough to feel like a beacon one could not turn to look away from. But you hissed at the thing, reaching down to pick up a rock, smooth in your palm before you threw it. “Hey!” Kai's voice echoed in empty woods, previously the only sound heard was his crunching footsteps. Your years of walking down here had taught you how to keep yourself light as you made a journey this far out from your home. “See only proving my point, hurting things without reason, what did they ever do to you?” 

But you didn’t feel like explaining yourself to him, it felt silly to believe in rumors about the little creatures but it was impossible not to feel conflicted about bad signs when your life had been full of misfortune.  “Its bad luck to see them,” 

“Well it showed up there was no need to throw a rock at it, bad luck or not it was given the second it popped up,” his statement made you roll your eyes. What was there to do but watch the flame snuff out? It felt better to make the flame extinguish the second you saw it as if they were the thing that leached luck from you the longer they stayed around.  

“I'm not going to sit and let the death promiser dance around and curse me, or you for that matter, I don't know how I would pull your corpse from the cave if you were to die from the infection they wanted to warn you about,” you watched his face pale, your eyebrows lifting letting it known that you had seen that you had won written on him, “see, so let me throw stones, I'm doing it for both of us even if you don't believe it,” 

“It's only an omen, it doesn't mean anything real,” but he was trying to convince himself to fear the little flame, small and weak enough to be taken out by nothing but a pebble. 

“You know we have people who read the stars? Creatures deep in the sea, the woods, the kingdom, even your precious sky. They all have stories and folklore that came from some kind of truth,” you picked up another stone in case you saw another little flame lingering around not wanting to risk a sighting even if you could help it. 

“How are you planning on getting the feathers back on?” Kai wanted anything else but to talk about being the same or not, about folklore and truth. He was tired and didn't want to think about anything else besides what was supposed to come next. 

“Wax, I have lots of candles stored up that will do, if I get the layers thin enough it shouldn't weigh you down. It's also soft enough so that it won’t restrict any growth when they start to grow back,” it felt far away to think about having to go through the process of aging all over again, he had been through the phase of watching his feathers transition he did not want to wait again. The wax would give him an option, anything that would help to keep him from feeling as if he fell so far back from everything he had ever known. 

He wonders if you had thought through the same things with your wings before it was too late. If the idea for the wax had come before or after you buried your last option. He did not think it would be okay to ask that, not when you were helping him already. Demons being fickle was not uncommon; he wouldn't be surprised that you tossed him aside for something new to tinker with if given the option. Rather he gets as much information for you on how to help himself before you leave him with nothing at all. 

You showed him the way back up and down into the cave and for a sickening second, he thought you would push him while he looked for a way to make it down without landing in the water. Your hand had been on his back to steady him and yourself on the edge together. His flinching from your touch only registered as pain and not fear. You jumped down angeling yourself so that you landed right at the edge of the water and you looked up, stepping out of the way waiting for him to follow your lead. 

Kai pushed himself down feeling nothing but air for only a second but it was a second too long. He stumbled as soon as his legs hit the ground, leaning back and looking at you for a sickening moment before he was ready to accept falling back into the water, but you reached out making a fist in his shirt as his arms waved trying to find something to hold onto. The heels of his feet almost tipped him into the water, his wings shuddering and trying to pull in closer, hiding back away as if they could when this damaged. The buttons on the back started to pop with the strain of his weight and he had to reach out for you, hands wrapped around your forearm as you pulled him back to the safety of the sand. 

“You're very clumsy on your feet,” you muttered, pulling yourself away from him and his tight grasp. He was embarrassed but only because he was washed in fear and being caught for it on his face. 

“There was not one time you fell while jumping down?” he waved at the short distance that was available for him to land. 

“Once or twice but you get used to the angle and learn,” you don't put your bag down, not when you have to turn around to look for your candles, keeping your back covered even if now you knew he would do little to hurt you physically. Everything you had picked up from your conversations and just watching him walk around made you realize just how his label fits him so well. He had been more upset over the will-o-the-wisp than his own ruining. But it still didn't make you drop your guard. 

Finding your stack of candles you tucked them under your arm and turned to find Kai sitting in the sand all over again, looking out at the water and watching the way it swayed. He traced the dark outline of the opening leading out to the sea, hardly noticeable if you hadn't said there was a way out before. He would have believed there was only the two of you and not the world's ocean just a few feet away from him. So much just inches away from his tomb that he believed he would have been stuck in until someone found his heavy lead-lined bones. 

“We don't have to do it tonight if you don't want to,” your voice was soft as if you knew he was stuck in some darkness in his mind, struggling against the hold of some blanket of depression he had thrown over himself and couldn't find his way out of. “It would be better too because we need the light and I can hardly make a fire big enough to produce enough,” 

Light, once so easy to produce on the edge of his fingertips, wasted power on his childhood innocence trying to find ways to light up his bedroom when he was supposed to be sleeping. It had been easy back then and now sitting here wanting to get it all over with he couldn't get up enough energy to heat his skin. He was cold all over, blood leached, and hollow. Lifting his palm he focused in on his hands, the soft ridges tracing around the center supposed to be the lifeline or so he had been told. That was where he had always watched the light come from first, starting right at his wrist and working its way up curving between his thumb and pointer finger before it was nothing but light held in his hand like he had caught a star. 

Now it was nothing. Not a flicker of illumination nor a hum of warmth. He balled his fist clenching until he felt his nails digging into his supposed lifeline wishing that if he squeezed hard enough he could find a single drop of anything left in him. And still nothing. Not even enough to help him now when he wanted it, needed it most. “Tomorrow,” the word was a bitter thing, in his chest and making it sound rough with hatred. 

“It takes a bit to get back,” you tried not knowing why you didn't just curl up in your spot and wait for the rest of the sun to set so that you could sleep. Ignore him and his well-deserved mood. But you had done the same thing, sitting in the dark trying to make even the smallest flame and nothing would come, “I was never the best at lighting anything on fire, not even the blades of dry grass they let the little ones practice with,” 

Kai listened, watching you from the corner of his eye as you took a seat next to him, legs crossed just like his, your knee so close to hitting against him he could feel the heat from it. “I should have known then that I wasn't like the rest of them, tailless, hornless, powerless,” you gave a dry humorless laugh, fiddling with the candle sticks you had, letting them spill into your lap picking one only one up and examining the wick. He traced the side of your face, following the bridge of your nose right till the end and watching you blow so softly it wouldn't have taken down the light of a birthday candle. 

But a flame bloomed, catching on the wick, and dancing in the coming darkness. It lit up the features of your face, your eyes shining in the light as you watched the small reflection of your power. You had little to give, children had been playing with fire long since they were learning to crawl and you had only come to master a few tricks. “The only thing that had labeled me a demon were my wings, and they had been…” the edge of your lips wobbled, your jaw clenching closed at the itching in your throat as if this was even too much to say to him. “They had been beautiful,” it was said just as softly as the exhale you had done to light the candle, hardly there and weak. 

“I didn't even care about the fire, anyone can light a match or strike flint and create a spark. But…” 

“Not everyone can fly,” he could feel the way you struggled to say it as if it was traveling from his mind to yours. In the firelight he watched the tear fall, tacking down your cheek faster than you could wipe it away. But you caught it erasing it as if that would take your feelings away from you as if it would keep those intrusive memories from surfacing. Because no one would know how it felt to be that high, physically and mentally, unless they had been up there with you catching air with a laugh bubbling up from your chest like it was coming from a faucet that could never be turned off. 

You blew out the candle, sticking it in the sand and pushing yourself to stand, letting the rest of the candlesticks stay laid out for tomorrow. “Don't worry about what you don't have just yet and be thankful for what you're still holding onto. I'm going to bed.” No more was needed to be said when the two of you both knew it hurt too much to find yourself in the mix of confessions and shared sympathy. So you tossed your bag to the side, turning your back to the wall and closing your eyes so that you couldn't look at the blessing you had given him and hadn't received from anyone else. 

But it was incredibly hard, there was nowhere to look except him or the back of your eyelids and all you could see when you closed your eyes was the vision of you in the sky. It ached to remember and the pain was fresh looking at his new stitches that you had done even with his wings pulled in and sparse of feathers. Because he sat there at the edge of the water trying and failing to open his wings up again without your help this time. 

He could tell they were stiff and he was unfamiliar with the feeling. Before it had been second nature, his wings moving as his lungs did without the need for his mind but now that he focused on them it was like they couldn't work and wouldn't unless he focused on not paying any mind to them. But it was hard to do that when his healing stitches were itching and he was told over and over again by you not to touch them. So he sat there watching the water with his back to you as if that would keep him accountable for not messing up your hard work. 

All that was keeping him up was the promise of tomorrow when the sun would come out and you would help him put his feathers back even if he felt that it wouldn't work. In a way he worried it was too unnatural to work, that somehow it would just fail because it was not right, the wind would not agree and still, if it did work he had no intentions of going home. To go back with wings made of nothing but wax and thread felt like a lie of himself. Some imposter trying to pass as himself to fit back into the same life he had before. But with his wings stuck together like a forged abomination felt like he was never going to find himself comfortable there again. 

He didn't care if they took him in as he was, whispered behind his back, because he knew they would, and let him pretend that everything was the same when it so clearly was not. He knew little of the world below and even less of the world below that one from where you came from, leaving home would be an adjustment but necessary. He just needed his wings healed enough to hide them back inside of him wherever it was they unfurled from when he wanted them. It had been uncomfortable back in the heavens because there was no need to hide who you were. He would have to get used to the feeling but it would not be something as horrible as this ache was now. 

It wasn't until the morning, the sun just peeking over the edge of the cave's mouth that he realized he had not gotten any sleep at all. He listened to the water, the chitter of the animals in the distant woods, and the sound of your easy breathing while you dreamt. He wondered if you would have dreams of flying, if they hurt just as bad as the pain of knowing you never would fly again but he knew they must have been tethered feelings; unable to have one without the other. 

He pictured you over and over again in his head. Imagined you with your wings of night in the air next to him, that laugh you had turned his way unlike the one he heard but one he wished you would give him so that he would know something in his dream would be real. This laugh was somewhere caught between a giggle and a sprinkle of light from his fingertips. He locked in on thinking of the laugh over the feeling of flying because it was impossible to not hurt when thinking of the air. But you, thinking of you, felt safe even if it was some kind of hope caught in a dream. 

Because you would never fly again he knew that much because you were so certain of it. He had known of people who wanted to mimic the feeling of flight. Making things out of clockwork and magic as if it would help them but that felt worse than having to go home stitched up. To walk in with wings not even close to the ones you owned, or were born with, felt like the worst kind of death. You wouldn't have even known that you had died, that the only thing keeping your body animated and moving were the strings of your delusion tied so tight around your joints that you never got a chance to look down and realize this was not you at all. 

So he tried to grasp that laugh because it was the only thing that felt close to real; the only thing that felt close to happening at all even with all the distant hope he was supposed to be having. And when you woke you could see it all over him, the failure written on every inch of him. It fueled an anger you had not felt in years, the simmering pot inside you turned up to boiling over nothing more than an empty glance. 

You kept to yourself, let him stay seated by the water, and went about to find the two of you food. And it wasn't until the two of you had eaten that you set into getting yourself ready for the long days work waiting for you. Candle in hand you watched him look back out over the water and you couldn't take it anymore. Kicking at the sand you watched the grains puff up in a plume around his legs his hands waving away the dust, brows scrunched as he scowled at you, “Stop looking as if I'm a failure already,” 

“I didn't say anything,” but he knows what you're talking about, the thought had infected him and was spreading as rapidly as the infection you had warned him would happen if he touched his back. 

“You didn't have to say anything, trust me if saving your life meant little to me I wouldn't have done it in the first place, I wouldn't waste my time,” you grab the handfuls of feathers, his eyes locking in on them in hand. 

“You have nothing better to do,” he didn't mean to say it but it was true he felt it and it made him believe it was the only reason why you were helping him. Because you were bored here, sitting in a cave doing nothing that he could see because there was nothing to do but sit. He had made it so that you had something to do. In a moment you would turn him away and tell him not to come back, to find someone else willing to help him. But you wouldn't let him give up on you. 

“No, I don't but I could have done anything else besides this. Hell it might be more fun watching you fall again than it would be to watch you actually fly but I guess we won't know unless we try,” but Kai’s scowl was back and it was better than seeing him feel nothing at all. 

“Why would you say that? You know what it's like-” 

“Exactly why would I help you for nothing at all but boredom? I wouldn't help if I didn't want to see you succeed, I wouldn't be doing this at all I would have let you die. So stop wasting my limited kindness and accept my effort without believing it will lead to nothing but failure,” 

“You would do that, wouldn't you?” because it had caught on him, the idea of being watched as he fell again by someone who would enjoy it. Unlike the first time, it would be worse, he would never come back from that fall, because even if he had forgiven the person who had pushed him he had known the second he felt their foot on his spine that it had been out of pure evil, if it were you doing all this just to watch him fail again it would be worse and there would be no forgiveness. “Build me up only to prove I should never fly again,” 

“You are incredibly cynical,” you blow on your candle, watching the flame heat the ivory colored wax so close to matching the color of his feathers. “Did you ever think that maybe I want you to succeed? That it would help me see you make it out of here more yourself than I ever would have left this place?” you stand behind him, pushing back the first row of feathers as gently as you can before placing the feather over the node you knew a new one would find to grow. You tilt the candle just enough until the wax drips, translucent dots pattering around the area as you watch the way they dry the color blending in perfectly. You let the feather go watching the way it sticks and stayed in place, right where it looked like it had never been gone. 

Kai could not feel the process, not when he was lost in his thoughts. He tried to separate the knowledge of you being a demon away from the proof he had of you being nothing more than someone who was lost. The two could be synonymous is what he reminds himself over again. He had his back to you and was hoping you wouldn't shove a knife right through him but that didn't mean he wasn't worried. 

He did not bring up his thoughts again, he let you work and passed himself off as being hopeful when it was the last thing he felt he was. He was grateful that you cared enough to try even if he believed you had ulterior motives but he would not say out loud that he had any hope when it was not true and if it was it felt wrong to jinx it. 

And so you worked, the slow repetitive motions evening out your heartbeat. And even when the wax fell to your fingers you did not flinch, taking the slight burn and continuing. Even Kai did not back away from the fallen wax when the sparse drops landed on his back. Anything was better than the pain he had felt before and now this felt pleasant, trembling from the shock the first time and accepting any other spot that made itself known to him. 

Then the two of you began to talk, small things that felt so insignificant when you were alone. His first question filled up the silence, “What's your favorite color?” you had not been asked in years something so lighthearted, there was no need to have a favorite when you wouldn't seek it out. 

“I don't know,” you had shrugged, dripping the wax over the next feather in the lineup. By midday, you had done one whole wing. The way the feathers overlapped made it so that you never even saw the wax since most of the top feathers had stayed in place. 

“You don't know? How could you not know your favorite color?” It was hard to explain to him how it didn't matter because Kai would take nothing short of an answer he saw as being good enough. He asked again, asked what it had been like when you were a child, and he listened as you tried to explain.  Answering his own questions and trying to take everything off his mind besides you and who you were. 

He asked you everything and anything he could think of until it was too late and the only thing he could think about was the fact you had stopped and were looking over his stitches again. “Is it bad?” 

“No,” it was the opposite of bad, he healed exceedingly fast because of his angel blood, the once torn flesh already looking a day away from having the stitches removed. “It's doing well, but I ran out of feathers for your right wing,” 

“Oh,” he felt like he had been deflated, his shoulders already bent forward so that you could have the best access to his back and he did not think he could sag anymore, yet he did. Periodically as you added more feathers in you would tap your wax-coated fingertip against his spine asking him to stretch his wings out. In the length of a day, he felt stronger and more like himself as the time passed. He could hold the weight of his wings up fine even with the thread still pulling him together bit by bit. And now he couldn't even finish what had been started. 

You had not thought before you spoke up next, the words spilling out as easily as the continued answers to his constant questions, “I still have a few from my wings if you don't mind the color,” but once it was said it felt right. You had no need for the feathers anymore, the only thing they did was bring you pain. They should have been buried right along with the rest of your wing and now you knew that there was some reason out there why you had kept them besides the reminder of a painful past. If they could help it felt right just as it felt right the second you pulled him out of the moon pool. You could give them up because in some way healing him was healing you. What better than to let your feathers fly again when you could not? 

And Kai did not mind, not when now he was itching to fly again, the hope somehow filtering into him the second you had told him to stretch his wings out again, to try. He let you put the feathers on, looked at the glossy ink color, and had not turned away because now he was tying the strings of his delusion on and he could not bring himself to stop. 

You did not feel loss this time around when seeing your past spilled out in a heap in your lap as you took wax to each one, fastening it to the angel boy's wing to give him one last chance that you wish you could have had. It felt cathartic, watching the way the colors contrasted and blended so well together. Your fingers ran over the line of them the second you had finished. A soft sad smile on your lips as you told Kai to stretch one final time before trying to fly. 

It felt so sudden, so soon from the last time he had taken flight. He hadn't even realized it was his last time at least before the fall. He wondered if you remembered your last time, what it had been like, and if it felt just as insignificant to you as it had to him. Wondered what you would have preferred your last flight to have felt like, where you would have gone. But the thoughts were a distraction to him trying to fly now. 

Kai stretched his wings, the white expanse only broken up by the tip of black at the end of his right wing. He couldn't remember what it felt like to lift off the ground instead of hurtling towards it but then he felt it, his heels lifting first, and the soft beat of his wings echoing in the small space. You stood back watching with a blank expression, tingling all over because you couldn't believe you had done it. He was up, the tips of his shoes just hitting the stirring sand before he felt his wings give out.

Shouting he fell, the distance nothing but a foot but feeling like he had come crashing all the way back down the side of a mountain. His back ached but not from pain but the strain of weakness. “You can try again tomorrow, we just have to keep at it even if it's a little bit every day,” Kai had fallen to his knees, looking up at you with his slumped shoulders and puppy dog eyes. 

“Thank you,” the words still tumbled into you, but it was easier to accept when the fruits of your labor were still right at the forefront of your mind. He had flown even if it was just a foot, it had been more than what either of you had expected. You had worried of his stitches ripping, worried of the feathers falling with only a few beats of wind and they had not, both holding stronger than your conviction. 

Your smile could not be contained, the edges of your mouth trying to hold it back like a stranger at the door because it had been far too long since the last time you felt this happy about anything. “It worked,” disbelief made itself known in your tone but Kai was just as surprised. He did not care at that moment if he got any higher off the ground, only that he did not have to lose so much of himself. “It worked,” he mimicked his smile wobbling as he fought back his tears, “it worked,” 

It was the way he said it last that hit home. You did not think about it hurting so bad to see him succeed, jealousy thick and alive in your blood. You wanted that feeling, you wanted those words to come from you not just from being an aid but from being the project. The words were felt all throughout you as he whispered them, just enough to watch the stress of never again flying dissipate into nothing but happiness. He had been empty and you had tipped in a bucket of everything you had to give, he had gained so much and you lost more than you had to offer him. 

There was nothing more to call it besides envy; sickening jealousy. If you could rip the wings right off his back and give them to yourself in that split second you would have. It was not productive but it was the only thing you could see when you looked at him. But you shook your head as if you had been caught in the rain and needed to get the water from your hair, pushing the thoughts to the side. You would never have what he did, no way for you to have given yourself the chance in the way that you had given it to him. 

So you squashed the feeling, talked yourself out of the need to cry once the two of you had laid down. Your back to the wall again as you look at him with that faint smile on his lips because he was getting to sleep peacefully since the first time he had come here without the aid of his pain. The outline of his wings in the darkness made them look just like a shadow behind him. And it was so hard not to cry as soon as you knew he was asleep. Wanted to turn and face the wall to give yourself the illusion of privacy in your struggle to keep the burn in your throat from turning into a sob you had fallen into to fitful sleep. 

What had awoken Kai was the strain in your voice, the way you muttered, again and again, the word no, the noise of it getting louder and louder until it was impossible to ignore the sound as if it was nothing more than the hum of a mourning bird's song. He opened his eyes and there you were on your makeshift bed, your face pressed into the blanket, your back turned to the sky and you reached back trying to scratch at your shoulder blades. But even in sleep, he could see the way it pained you, hands only just brushing over your shoulders when you found yourself pinned down in sleep. You were whining, crying in your sleep, and it was full of pain. 

Because in your sleep you had dreamt of that first night without your wings. You could not lay on your side, could not lay any other way but with your face to the ground like they were pulling your wings from you all over again. Back facing the sky praying that they didn't come in because you had no strength to turn over, no strength in you except to try and restrain yourself from scratching at the healing wounds, unaided by careful stitches. 

It had been a long time since you had felt the dream so real that it made you believe there was something wrong with your back. Because you were somewhere on the edge of your dream telling yourself it was real, that the pain was right there at the surface and you didn't know it unless you woke up. If only you could just wake up instead of struggling as you had back then. And when you looked to your side there was no kai, just the outline of that wing, the one you had to pull off there dead and waiting for its burial. 

But Kai would not let you sleep through it, not let you scratch at your shoulders and wade through the dreamscape colored in nothing but the shade of a nightmare. He grasped your sleeping hand, the one fluttering at your back like a moth to a flame and curled his fingers between yours. Your hands fit neatly against his, locking in place as if you had been reaching out for him the whole time. His free hand was at your lower back, keeping away from the top where he knew you were trying to reach. And when your eyes opened your gasp followed the way you shot up, back pressed back to the wall and you tried to cure the burning. 

You knew this feeling, the momentary ghost wings pretending they still had feelings for which could be hurt. Everything about you felt as if it was shaking, like a rattling cabinet of glass in an earthquake because your world was shaking at your feet telling you something was wrong but you couldn't tell what it was. “It's okay it was only a nightmare,” Kai tried to sooth, thumb running over the back of your hand that he held in both of his. 

In your dream you had been alone, so much of it had been like it always was. Pain circling around everything you had come to know. But now there had been pain but the faint hurt that Kai had not been there to help you. As if he could go back in time and do what you had for him even if it was no use you had just wanted him to be there next to you. But he hadn't been and in the mix of the sobs you had found his name and prayed he would hear because if they were your dreams you should have been able to grab them by the neck and control them, not follow them down the dark hall that felt neverending. 

But waking up to know he had been here the whole time, knowing that if he had been there he would have helped just the same, settled something inside you that had been overrun with worry. You unfurled your arms from around yourself, throwing them around Kai’s neck and pulling him into a hug. 

He did not freeze up under your hold but melted into you, sliding his hands around your back and pulling you closer to him, your face pressed into the space between his throat and his collarbone. He hadn't known how much a hug would have helped him just as it was helping you. You were warm and clinging to him in a way no one had ever needed him. 

Kai could have sat like that with you in his arms until the sun came up and you would have let him because you needed to be closer and needed something that only he could give you. Your fingers ran through his hair, his hands sliding down your lower back pulling you to straddle his hips because he needed you chest to chest, needed to feel the weight of you against them to make sure that he knew it was real just the same as you did. “You're okay,” he whispered the words, a hammer against the dam you had walled up in place to keep you from ever getting close to anyone ever again. 

It was so quick you are unsure why it was your instant reaction. Your lips kissed over the mole he had right along the column of his throat. The feeling of his words pressed right to your mouth when he hummed your name. Everything was so much easier to do in the half dark, the room alight in that blue glow of the water, the moon still high in the sky as he slipped his hands under your shirt, cool against your heated skin and only making you arch further into him, hips sinking as you kissed up his neck. 

Neither of you stopped the other from the exploration, you curled your fingers in his hair right at the base of his neck and he found any expanse of skin that he could let his fingers touch. And when you finally made your kisses stop right at the edge of his lips he couldn't help but turn his head, chasing after your mouth with his desperate desire to get lost in you. Because once you started neither of you could pull yourself away from stopping. 

He tasted like nothing short of twinkling light filling the darkness that you had let wash over you for far too long. His soft moans caught in your mouth with each drag of your hips now perfectly placed over him and his wanting need. It was the only way to describe the way he was feeling, he did not just want you, he needed you, so hard from just a few devouring kisses that you couldn’t resist. 

You pulled away for only a second standing so that you could take the few clothes you had on off. Kai sitting there watching in awe as you peeled off your shirt, his hands itching to have you back on him with no layers between the two of you, chest to chest but closer now being skin to skin. He reached out for your hips pulling you closer to him so that he could rest his chin on your stomach, looking at you like the fallen angel he was, like you were the only savior he had written in his stars. 

He let his lips pepper over you, your hands brushing the hair from his brow, his fingers dipping into your waistband holding the fabric in a way that asked you for permission to tug them down and off. “Please,” he whispered check pressed to your hip, “I need you,” and you would give him everything he asked for if he continued looking at you in that way as if nothing in the world mattered but you at this moment, not your blood or cruel words, just a boy and a girl seeking out the pleasure of another. 

You let him take your pants off just as easily as he had let you tug him free from his. And when you sank onto him, took all of him in with a gasp at the stretch working its way through you, nothing had felt more right. Because he was curving into you, your lips were his only salvation as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth on him. His face washed in the pleasure of having you his hands growing warmer and warmer as they held your back. You did your best to avoid his stitches, ignoring his wings that twitched along with his body every time you found a new slow rhythm to move to. 

The angle the two of you had was grinding against your pleasure point, your moans so sweet and rumbling against him. He traced up the line of your spine with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around your back to make sure you stayed in the circle of space the two of you had created. You whimpered when he brushed over the scars on your back but did not pull away, letting him have a part of you that you would never give to anyone else because he knew what it was like, he knew what it meant, this level of trust rushing into you almost as fast as your coming orgasm. And right behind him the soft blue light of a will-o-the-wisp on the water, gone as quickly as it had come into your field of vision but you would not have cared in that moment anyway. 

Both of you neared the end, and when you came, the feeling in your belly took all the space to think because it had been reduced to feeling only him and the pleasure he was giving you. His hands felt hot and alive with the power he had believed had been lost to him as you trembled in his hold, swallowing down each little noise you made. He guided you down to the blanket stretched out on the sand, rocking his hips now chasing after his own high watching the hazy look wash over your face as you held onto his shoulders. And behind him his wings spread covering the two of you in that safe space you had craved more than anything, his panting breaths pressed to your neck as he spilled all he had into you. 

You could only focus on him and the way he brought you the closest you had ever felt to being whole again. Wrapped up in nothing but him was close to being saved because you both knew how similar you were and to be seen like this, to be understood, was healing all on its own and you welcomed everything he had to offer. You would let him take you again and again because you felt linked, the jealousy washed away because being held like this was enough to sedate the torment you had found yourself subjected to being here alone for so long. 

And in the morning, when the sun came in on the new day you never felt as excited to see the light as you did in that moment. Because Kai was grinning looking over at you knowing what it meant. He would go out and try again and again until he knew that he could fly even if it took time but here starting today would be the beginning and he would be starting it all with you at his side. 

He did not need help out of the cave's mouth this time, pulling himself up as easily as if he had been doing it his whole life. And he stood, looking out over the water below him and knowing that if he fell he had you there willing to pull him out if he needed it. He looked to the sky the second you pulled yourself up next to him, his wings spreading out and beating softly enough to draw your attention. “We don't have to start so high up. I know it's a short distance to the ground and it won't hurt much if you fall but just in case it might be better to go to the beach,” 

He should have listened to you but he was too excited to think about where he was when all he wanted to do was fly. “Just this once and we can go to the beach and try again if not,” he reached his hand out at his side, low enough to find yours and your welcome squeeze in support. 

“It's okay if you don't get up too high so long as they can carry your weight that's the main issue at the moment because of the stitches,” Kai nodded along half listening as he focused in on the clouds. He pulled your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before letting it go once more before trying. 

Both of you held your breath, the seconds passing slowly as you waited for his heels to lift again only this time it was so much higher, Kai was rising, each beat of his wings only raising him and widening your smile. You had done it, you had made him fly again and it didn't hurt but made you elated. 

Kai could feel the wind welcoming him, pushing him up and up until he could see nothing but the expanse of blue and you were gone. It was that thought that had him going back. He could have spent all day up there if he could, if he knew that it wouldn't hurt him if he pushed himself so far but thinking of you watching him without being able to feel it tore into him. He flew back down landing right where he had started and laughed like it had caught him by surprise. 

And he looked at you, his arms open enough for you to run into them, that smile you wore was going to be tattooed along the insides of his eyelids because it was the only thing we wanted to see. Because you had done this for him, you had given him his flight back, his hope, and wrapped in nothing but sarcasm and truth because it was your way. So he hugged you tight, kissed you until your arms were locked around him just right and he took you with him. 

It had only been in dreams that you felt the faint feeling of being weightless. The wind hits your face as you let the laugh bask in the morning sun with you. It had been everything Kai had wanted, his dreams coming to reality as he caught the wind to carry the two of you higher and higher, until it felt as if you both would be made of nothing but clouds and happiness. He knew what it meant to be up in the sky like this again for you and knew that it would never be much of a thank you in return for what you have given back to him. 

And when he found a place to be steady, beating wings behind him, no pain in sight as the two of you looked out over the green and blue land and water below you. He held you close, arms keeping you up and in place even with your dangling feet picking up the memory of what it had been like before when you were a child with nothing to be scared of because you had not been wronged yet, you had only been a girl with wings happy to be in the air. 

Kai pressed his forehead to yours, nose dipping and bumping your cheek as he kissed the edge of your smile. And it didn't matter anymore if you felt weak, or had been told it was all that you had ever been because you had saved someone worthy of being saved, picking up yourself along the way and flying through him when flying was only a word thrown around to hurt you. You had put his wings back when they had been nothing but torn flesh and nothing made you feel this good, only the knowledge that you knew he would take you again if you asked. 

The trail of your fingers did not cross your mind when you felt this good, your subconscious working over the thoughts you were having and putting together the puzzle you had made by following the seam of his stitches. You could feel the knot you had tied to secure the wing in place, the spot you would have to cut away when pulling the thread free after you had checked again that his fast healing had done its job. 

But the ghosting of your touch on the closed wound was akin to you pushing him into a frozen lake, the ice breaking beneath him and reminding him just how heavy he had been when he had nothing behind him to support his body. It was the fear mixed with your words that you had said what felt like ages ago, as if when the two of you had shared then you had been different people. But here at his core, he felt it, that foreboding and gut-turning maggots wiggling into his skin and poisoning his already made-up mind. ‘Hell it might be more fun watching you fall again than it would be to watch you actually fly but I guess we won't know unless we try,’ you had said those words, he had rolled them over in his head over and over again because it had not sit right with him, but he could not remember the rest of the conversation, not when your fingers were messing with the stitches right on his back like you were fulfilling a promise. 

It had been quick, the intrusive thought taking over because all he could think again was that you two were similar. He would have helped you yes but if it had been him or you at the bottom of the water and both of you had to pick who got their wings back he would not hesitate to make sure he felt this feeling again. And having you here, threat alive in his mind he could not help himself from leaning into the cruelty if it meant saving this. 

And so he let you go. 

When in his arms it had been the illusion of flying, still grounded to him just by holding on but falling from this height was even closer to the feeling of flying. The wind rippled around you as you fell in slow motion, his sweet angelic face washed in shock at what he had done and all you could do was think about how you would forgive him because you knew that if it had been you in his place, demon or angel, you would have done the same. 

You did not feel heavy, you felt free and the laughter echoed around Kai as he realized his mistake. His fear had control over him in ways he had not expected it to and his shouting did nothing to make it any closer to you as he tried to catch up to your falling form hurtling closer to a waiting grave that had once had a tombstone with his name written on it. You had missed this feeling of freefall and descent, missed the open arms of the wing kissing your skin in the same way Kai’s hands had only the night before. 

And then the feathers started to rain. A few white tumbled down along with you as you looked up at him, wax melting from being so close to the sun for only a short time. The edge of his right wing was still tipped in black as if your feathers had infected his mind and thoughts as if they had been the cause of the drop and not the sickening worry he had of losing everything that had just been returned to him. But you could not stop yourself from thinking again of the story you had been told as a child. That demons had been the same as angels, cast out for the bitterness lingering in their near-empty hearts. You two were the same, cast out, and only now did he truly see it. 

The last of his feathers started to come free, his control over his wings lessening as the two of you fell, the sky a perfect image of just you and him with feathers all around as it had always been. The spotting of inky black feathers floating around you, finally ready to be buried alongside the body they had come from. You reached out, Kai’s hand already trying to find anything on you to grasp but was just far enough to miss by the brush of his fingertips. The expanse of blue widens around you and is impossible to tell if you were rising in the sky or sinking closer to the waiting ocean. 

If falling felt like flying you would welcome the feeling because anything was better than nothing at all. 

<333 thank you to @beomiracles who wrote the opening paragraph that is italicized for this event so that we could all start on the same page- taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie @taegyutomorrow @izzyy-stuff @yeoningz @filmnings @jellymochii @dawngyu @bamgyuuuri @lickingan0rchid @felixleftchickennugget @thetxtdevil @luvsicktyun @hyukascampfire @prince-jjae @liverspaghett want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join!want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 61

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

Joel and Lizzie eventually leave, apparently It's 'akward' and feels like they are 'invading' your space. You would call bull but honestly, you don't really care ... you are sure Joel is going to find you and finish your conversation at a later date anyway... You are going to make that as hard as possible of course.

Scar and Cub stick around for a while longer, not as much as you would have liked though since they apparently still need Joel's car to get back and he refuses to wait too long for them.

At one point Scar tried to share with you some of the shows he likes for you to watch while stuck in the clinic... which eventually devolved into him talking you trough the plot of the clone wars. That's how you end up learning that you'll have to stay here a while longer for some tests.

Amazing, great, fantastic, you are going to die of sheer boredom.

...

At least you aren't going to completely be alone the entire time, Scar promised up and down to visit every day and Cub told you that he's required to look after you until you are better by the association, arguably not the worst situation ever...still.

Now, boredom strangely enough is not going to be the main issue, not as much as the tests they are going to do to see if you are ok to leave... and It's really your fault you'll have to admit: Cub already did tests to you and you are pretty sure your divine blood broke the machine completely, so yeah, that's going to go swimmingly. Not to mention that you can't even turn your body mortal during said tests because that would make Cub only more suspicious.

You are going to have to be smart about this unfortunately, you can't mess around and find out your way out of this... Hmmm, you have an idea that might just work.

*Grumbot's pov*

[Booting]

[Connecting]

[Dad #2 has sent a message one god to another]

[Analyzing]

[Message received]

[Targeted clinic medical equipment]

[Control has been taken]

[Command has been given]

[Confirmation had bern sent to Dad #2]

*Grian's pov*

And he was even faster about it then you thought. That feeling that might just be parental pride rises up again... well, now all you need is for those tests to start and you'll have full control of their results.

...

And to think about what results you should manipulate and how, making them look like a regular human's would just make Cub just as suspicious as changing your body to be more mortal... Ugh, you haven't yet had to manipulate any of the important mortal's minds yet, you'd hate to have to do it now because of something so stupid. It's would be so not fun.

[cielito--lindo]

a starting point

wc: 2.3 k

parings: bakugou katsuki x reader, some iida tenya x reader

a/n and warnings: aged!up au, prohero!reader, afab!reader, swearing, angst and a small amount of fluff, maybe eventual smut??

Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five

Get.

Up.

Come on, get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.

Bright. Why was it so bright? Get up, you can do it.

Your body groaned in protest at the movement as your eyes slowly blinked open.

That’s it, get up.

Moonlight. Big and bright, bathing you in its comforting embrace.

You can do this.

***

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events.” Makoto Oishi had been your therapist for the past few months, she came highly recommended by Izuku when you moved out on your own. Her bright yellow eyes squinting at your over her glasses. She adjusted her long red hair that she kept in a loose braid. 

You sat on her plush couch, hugging one of her throw pillows to your chest. A few days had passed by since Katsuki’s apology, which you internally dubbed “the Incident”. Miriko caught wind of the event and gave you a few days off to “get your shit together”, which you deeply appreciated.

“Not to be the stereotypical therapist here, but how does all of this make you feel?” You simply blinked at the older woman sitting across from you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times in an aborted attempt at a response.

“Conflicted, I think? There’s so much up here” You tapped your temple “it all feels so jumbled and convoluted..”

Your therapist nodded, jotting down a few notes on the pad in her lap. “Let’s break it down into two scenarios. How did you feel having him in your home?”

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and tried to picture the moment his sneakers crossed your threshold. The soft lighting of your home causing his blonde spikes to glow like a halo once he slipped off his hood. The way his carmine eyes scanned your home like he was trying to find something. “I-He.” Another deep breath “Even though I pulled him into my space, it still felt like..an invasion? I had my own space that I created for myself a-and having him admit to basically stalking me was unnerving.”

You tried to ignore the scratching sound of pen on paper “How did it feel when he left?”

“Cold” was your immediate response, surprising yourself. 

Makoto raised an eyebrow “Cold” She repeated “As in temperature or cold as in..”

“I felt..cold.” Your own brow furrowed as you tried to explain yourself. “My quirk relies on the moon, I thrive in her beams. But I’ve always felt this lingering cold, the kind that settles in your bones.” Some of your Dark Matter seeped out of your finger tips, manipulating itself into different shapes. “I didn’t realize it until he touched me that that chill also felt like...loneliness. I know I’m not actually alone, I have my friends, colleagues, I’m surrounded by people all the time. I-I” Your voice faltered “The moment he touched me, it felt like standing in the sun again. And I hated it. I hated how much I missed it...missed him.”

Makoto set down her notepad and glanced over at you “When you started to come and see me, whenever we would talk about Bakugou, you would immediately shut down the topic. You came into these sessions with the mindset of hating him forever. If the roles were reversed or if it was one of your best friends and they all of a sudden went missing and couldn’t get ahold of them, what would you do?”

You gaped at her “I’d do everything I can to make sure they were okay..”

“I needed to make sure you were okay”

“You asked him why he never called, but how could he have when you severed every point of communication?”

A flash of defensiveness flashed through you and as you were about to voice it, she raised a hand “Let me finish. You slowly began to open up and talk about him and when I asked you why you packed everything and left in the middle of the afternoon when he was on patrol, you responded with” she flipped through her notebook “there was no point in talking with him about how I felt, he’s too stubborn and headstrong to change. To make things right.””

“I’m gonna make this right, angel. I’m gonna be good for you, I promise.”

“You didn’t bank on him actually trying, did you?” Makoto’s voice was soft, but her words were filled with hard truths. You only managed to shake your head, your chest feeling tight. “Look, honey. I’m not blaming you, you did what you felt like you needed to do in that moment to find peace. But, I also need you to understand that as much as you felt hurt by Bakugou’s actions, you probably hurt him too. The way you’ve described this man would be an emotional constipated, work obsessed, hot-head, right?” Another nod “And from the notes I have about his family, I would say he didn’t grow up having emotional heart to hearts, right? So, when you come at him with all the complaints you have, he probably thought the immediate worst and closed off.”

She noticed your hesitation and leaned forward, taking your hand in hers “I’m not saying you have to immediately reconcile and pretend everything is fine again, but if he’s willing to listen and put in the work, maybe hear him out? Definitely talk about the stalking though, boundaries are important. Closure doesn’t always mean forgiveness, you know. Six months is a long time, anything is possible.”

God, sometimes you hated therapy.

Makoto gave you a sympathetic smile and helped you come up with a game plan for your talk with Katsuki. 

***

“Oh thank god, it took you long enough!” Jirou exclaimed, getting up from your apartment stoop. “My ass was starting to get numb.” She winced. 

Ochako held up a little plastic grocery bag which looked filled to the brim “Some comfort food as you tell us about what in the fuck happened last night?” 

“Oooh, are you going to tell them about the handsome young man that was over?” Mrs. Ishimoto’s popped out from her kitchen window. You felt your cheeks blossom with red embarrassment as your friends' heads whipped around to stare at you. “He was quite the looker! He was a bit of a grump, but really concerned for our girl.”

Jirou’s eyes grew wider and wider “Oh my god.”

“Again, thank you so much, Mrs. Ishimoto!” You gave her a tight grin “Always a pleasure!”

You quickly ushered your friends into the apartment and prepared yourself for the hoards of questions that were about to follow. “Before the interrogation begins, there are a few ground rules. I will try to answer as truthfully as possible, you may ask one question at a time, and we can start once we pour some drinks.”

Jirou and Ochako gave you a quick salute before scurrying to the kitchen to make drinks. With all the commotion in the kitchen, you trudged into your room to change. There was a lingering pain behind your eyes from the sheer amount of stress and tension that came after therapy. You and Makoto decided that you would reach out to Katsuki and keep him at arm's length, you didn’t trust yourself at home, so a public space would be best. Is this something you truly wanted? Hearing the girls giggling in the other room made your heart clench. The kitchen was a sacred space in your old home, what Katsuki would call “his domain”, you were hopeless in the kitchen when you had first met.

“What the fuck is burning?” Katsuki yelled over the smoke detector, he grabbed a dish towel and began waving it around, trying to dispel some of the smoke.

“Bakugou!” You practically dropped your phone as he rushed in. You looked up at the commotion “Fuck, my pasta!” You screeched, rushing over to dump the burnt pot into the sink.

“Are you trying to burn this whole place down, you idiot?” Katsuki looked down at the charred remains of your dinner “Oh, you better be fucking joking.” The burnt noodles were still smoking as piercing red eyes bore into you “You didn’t add any fucking water?!”

“I thought that’s what the sauce was for!” 

“You have to cook the pasta first, Space Case! IN WATER. How in the fuck are in the top 3 of our class?” Bakugou ground out “You were probably going to use jarred sauce, weren't you?.” He glared.

You tried to sneakily hide the store bought sauce behind the fruit stand on the counter “Of course not” You scoffed “Jarred sauce? Uh gross... that would be so..yucky.”

“Oh my fucking god, come on. You’re lucky I’m the only one fucking capable to teach you this shit.”

Your eyes widened at him “Really?”, you had been getting to know Bakugou more and more since getting paired as sparring partners, but you weren’t sure if you had reached cooking class level of friendship. Not even Midoriya had achieved that rank yet.

Your cooking lessons had become your weekly bonding moments, it was the way he had asked you on your first date and eventually, moving in together. As much as you loved your freedom and the peace it had brought you, you knew it was time to confront everything that happened. At the time, you felt hopeless and felt like you were emotionally dependent on a man who didn’t seem to have you in consideration. 

Katsuki Bakugou’s life motto was to be the best at everything he could and he excelled the majority of the time, but it seemed like the only thing he didn’t prioritize was becoming the best partner to you. 

You knew you weren’t perfect, your moods could shift as quickly as the tides and you were too empathetic for your own good. Putting everyone’s needs above your own. The breakdown felt like a ticking time bomb - something that was never an if, but when. Being on your own forced you to put yourself first, to prioritize your own self worth. 

To learn to live for yourself and not for someone else.

As you sat on your bed and listened to your friends clatter and laugh in your kitchen, the realization hit you.

If you could change and show yourself you’re capable of that change, why would you assume someone else wasn’t?

Had Katsuki genuinely changed that much in the six months you were apart?

You hurriedly slipped into some comfy sweats and a hoodie, wandering back and seeing your best friends dance to the “hot girls only” playlist Jirou made for your girl nights. Once they caught your eyes, they waved you over with flushed grins and waggled eyebrows. 

“Shots first!” Uraraka handed you and Jirou shot glasses filled with a clear liquid that you knew would make you regret in the morning. “And we already ordered pizza!”

“Kanpai!”  The three of you cheered, the burn settling in your belly. You were handed another drink, thankfully one with less alcohol as you made your way back to the living room.

You settled in with crossed legs, hugging your emotional support couch pillow. Jirou and Ochako nestled in on either side.

“So are you gonna start or are we gonna bully it out of you?” Jirou smiled.

Your eyes closed as you took in a deep breath “I’m going to ask some questions and I need y’all to be as truthful as possible. We listen and we don’t judge.”

“We listen and we don’t judge” The girls recited back.

“I’ve never wanted you guys to choose between me or Katsuki, especially since we all still have to work together.” One eye peeked open “Do you think he’s changed since everythings happened?”

The girls next to you were uncharacteristically quiet “We listen and we don’t judge” You reminded them “I know you guys still hang out, babes. It’s kind of hard to avoid Mina’s incredible insta.” You turned to Uraraka “And you, ma’am. Katsuki and Izuku are attached at the hip, that’s impossible to avoid.”

“He does seem..different.” Jirou spoke up first “I mean don’t get me wrong, he’s still an asshole the majority of the time, but he..thinks before he speaks now. I can tell he’s trying to open up more? Honestly, I think the Bakusquad would know more than I do.”

“God, he hated that stupid group name.” You snorted, sipping your drink.

“He’s in therapy!” Ochako blurted out, covering her mouth in surprise. You and Jirou blinked at her outburst.

“Therapy?”

Ochako nodded at you “He made me swear not to say anything, but holy shit it felt like I was suffocating.” She let out a sigh in relief. “After everything happened, he and Izu had a really really long talk. Like almost 3 hours and I guess he asked Best Jeanist to help him find a counselor.”

It felt like your brain short-circuited. Katsuki Bakugou, the man who refused counseling after being kidnapped by the League and refused counseling after dying then resuscitated during the War, willingly went to therapy because...of you? “Shi-Shinsou told me-” You cleared the knot in your throat “Shinsou told me that he asked about me and then suddenly stopped.”

The girls nodded “Yeah, he did the same with us. Well, he’d try to ask me, but I’d only give him minimal updates.” Jirou shrugged, “I didn’t know how comfortable you were with us telling him about you, so I wanted to play it safe.”

You squeezed her hand in understanding.

Ochako took a swig of her drink and drew her knees to her chest. “I remember overhearing him talk to Izuku about it and it seems he stopped around the time he started therapy.”

God damn it, you hated when your therapist was right. You let out a groan, letting your head fall back against the sofa.

“I’m guessing he didn’t tell you all of that when he came over...” Ochaka asked, peeking over her knees.

“He definitely did not.” The eager looks of anticipation on your friends’ faces made you roll your eyes fondly “Alright, alright.” You recounted the events of last night.

“Bold of you to answer the door in a robe regardless.” Ochako giggled. 

You gave her a playful shoved and continued “According to my nosy neighbor, he had stopped by after our fight, but I obviously wasn’t home.”

“That’s probably when he started freaking out.” Jirou murmured and you nodded in confirmation.

You continued your tale, earning gasps and colorful commentary. 

“When he crowded me in the kitchen, I thought he was going to keep touching or even kiss me, but when I called him by his first name...” You paused, remembering the look of reverence on Katsuki’s face. Like a man who has prayed for salvation and finally heard the voice of God. “I swear to God, I almost thought he was going to cry. I-I didn’t recognize him.” 

Ochako reached over and wiped the wetness that had collected on your cheeks. 

You didn’t even realize you were crying.

“I had t-to b-b-beg him to g-go. I didn’t want him to see m-me..” You gestured to yourself, hoping they understood. “And he-fuck. He fucking apologized!” You wiped away the rest of your tears, your face flushing in annoyance “God, he fucking apologized and he promised he would fix things. Whatever the fuck that means.” You downed the rest of your drink.

Jirou and Ochako leaned against you, trying to give you some comfort. “That’s a lot, bestie.” Ochako commented softly, earning a snort from you.

“My therapist thinks it’s time he and I talk.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“Ura, you literally threatened to go fullTonya Harding on his PR girlfriend two days ago..”

“And I’ll do it again!”

“Look, babe. Whatever you feel like you want or need to do, we’re here.” 

You felt your eyes get watery again as you enveloped your best friends in a hug “Thank god for Aizawa’s dorm assignments.” You giggled.

DING DOOONG. DING DOOONG.

“Pizza!”

The three of you rushed over and swung the door open.

Several dozen flowers occupied the front of your entryway. Marigolds, tulips, daises, roses, peonies, even fucking succulents. You blinked at the garden in front of you “Oh my god.” You leaned down to pick up a vase, plucking the card from within “Spicy chicken curry?”

Confused looks were shared. Jirou grabbed the card from the lily bouquet “Vegetable udon..”

“Tamagoyaki?”

“Yakisoba!”

“Tonkatsu ramen..” You froze. 

Oh my god. 

Oh my god

Katsuki placed two steaming bowls of ramen on the table in front of you, you felt your self grin “And it’s not even my birthday!” You teased. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but you could still see the small smirk on his lips “What? A man can’t cook his lady her favorite dish?”

You let out a soft hum of appreciation as you took your first bite “By all means, do it more often.”

“Brat.” His full grin making a rare appearance. “I-uh. I wanna ask you something, angel.”

“If this is about that All Might figurine we saw in Shibuya, I already confirmed with Ochako that Midoriya doesn’t have one.” 

Katsuki let out a snort “Not what I was after, but good call. Remind me to go back and get that.”

“Nah, I already ordered it for you, it’s on the way.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

A blush colored your cheeks “Yeah, yeah. I love yo-”

“Move in with me.”

You felt the card fall from your hands as you looked at the gifts in front of you with new eyes. He had remembered each flower he had bought for you on your dates and what he had cooked for dinner. You felt the card slip out of your fingers. When you first started dating, Katsuki made sure to always buy you flowers, even when you had begged him to stop because you didn’t have any more space in your dorm. If you even commented about a certain flower, you could expect it at your door, he had even imported a few on your birthday.

Jirou let out a low whistle “What a fucking way to start.”

so...it's been a bit?

turns out increased depression and the urge to have the Eternal Sleep™ actually makes it super hard to write anything, so apologies if this is actually shit lol

as always, please leave comments, concerns, or literally anything. thank you for all the likes on the previous parts!!

luv u pookies 🫶

taglist: @raeroowrites @onlyisaa @kimsrie @zennypiee @arfbarkwoofmeow

dividers: @saradika

[nichiperi]

I've been using this sketchbook since 2018 when I started attending university. But I didn't really use it much until around 2020, shortly before I got back into Invader Zim. Flipping through it recently, I realized that there's a bunch of stuff in here I never shared with anybody (or at least, not a lot of people), so I thought I'd post some of it! :D

Open the Read More to peer into the sketchbook~ ✨📓✨

These were some of the first adult Dib sketches I did when I just barely tiptoed back into the fandom. I was still trying to relearn the style at this point lol, but I still like 'em!

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This is what the interdimensional transporter that Zim and Dib use in my fic looks like! I'd always intended to make a nice colorful reference sheet, but it never came to pass... I'm still working on my fic though, so maybe someday!! The design could use some tweaks first though...not enough wires or cables for my taste lol.

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This is the first overtly ZADR-y thing I'd ever drawn. Sounds silly to admit now, but I was actually really scared to draw it or even talk about it at first. (⁠;⁠;⁠;⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠) Things sure are different now lol. These past few years have been my first time doing this much ship art in general, and it's been really nice to have gotten to a point where I'm not so nervous about it all the time!

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A Space Trash Zim from the @izspacetrash AU! I once had a version of this I'd colored, but I must've accidentally deleted it at some point because the thing is just gone. It is lost to the void. Maybe I should redraw him one of these days... ✨👀✨

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A gaggle of assorted doodles!! I like doing these cluttered messes every now and again to practice with expressions or poses...or even just 'cause I wanna mindlessly put more space bug shapes on paper. 🪳🪳🪳

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A Dib expression that turned out really good. Can't remember what he was supposed to be for, but....he exists. :)

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This was supposed to be a thing with a whooooole lot of Zim's killing each other. I was....feeling A Way. (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) Buuut quickly realized that I didn't like what I did with their proportions and scrapped it. When I first started out re-learning how to draw Zim, I tended to give him more lanky proportions. But now, I really tend to favor drawing a more canon-compliant tiny Zim. I think this piece in particular was kinda the last nail in the coffin for my taller Zims. Sorry, tall Zim.... XD

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These last two were going to be part of a comic... The last time I asked for sketch requests, someone sent me a prompt that really just sent my brain into overdrive and I was SUPER inspired.....and then life happened and I didn't end up finishing the idea I had. (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠) Sorry if you're reading this, whoever you were! Your ask is still sitting in my box and I STILL rotate this idea in my brain quite often!! I'd love to finish it someday!

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That's all for now! But I hope y'all enjoyed! I've been having a rough time irl and seeing all these older sketches really made me happy, so I felt like sharing. Currently crawling my way out of some weirdly selective art block, but I shall have more finished things to share soon~! 💚

[ihaveasolutionbutyouwontlikeit]

I have been playing with geometric art this weekend, I love using spirographs! I want to show and create some with the kids and hang them from the fairy lights in the class room, like little spinny space objects.

It's been such a lovely unhurried but active weekend. The following is not in sequential order but as I remember and add it order.

Kid and I have spent so much quality time together (it's amazing what happens when screen privileges get temporarily revoked 😆). He, too, made me a spirograph picture!

We also went to the library looking for books about bats.

We painted ceramic and wooden sculptures and toys today, a spontaneous outing I had been gently requesting for months with minimal interest until now, added on to an errand. Kid painted a Demon Slayer artifact and a Venom inspired bug creature, and I painted a dark wood stained bug creature and a yellow and gold glitter palomino style wood horsie toy. Quality conversation was had with my star-in-a-human-suit snuggleupagus. He told me about something bothering him and we came up with a game plan to tackle it, and I asked his opinion about a biggish decision I've been mulling over.

We spent quality time with friends yesterday. Made camping style waffle cone s'mores for them. Kid enjoyed the big sis lil bro friendship dynamic immensely while enacting the hangs. I got a back massage that I hadn't realised I sorely (pun intended) needed.

I made a slingshot for a friend today. It works better than expected and I may need to fashion at least two more for personal and camping use. I look forward to giving this one to them, covertly, at work tomorrow. Globs forbid one of our chaos goblins gets their hands on it.

I'm still finishing my book on infinity, but dragging my proverbial feet now that I'm near the end of it, previously I had consumed the first half in one sitting (being able to read again is wonderful, even if it doesn't look and feel the same as it used to).

Started up a data table that I haven't finished calculating yet, but planning to create a graph from the results once that part is complete, but need to figure out how to display the data on the different axis'. But finishing computing data first, then will tackle graph problem.

Yes. 💛