#drawing bay takes me like three times the time what

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One and Only

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You meet your biggest fan.

Based on response: She’s famous & he’s a stalker fan? 1940s au?

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This is #1 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I’m sending the script this afternoon, honey,” Gerald promises through the speaker. You hold the receive to your ear and suppress a sigh. It’s a blessing that he can’t see your expression. ‘Honey.’  

“Sure thing, Ger,” you reply as you try to peer through the foggy glass pane. What a miserable February. 

“Screen tests start Monday,” he intones, as if you’ve not done this before. What number is this? You signed a contract for ten pictures, this is number seven of the lot. You cannot wait to shop around for a new studio. 

“Yes, Ger,” you answer dully. “See ya then.” 

“Three o’clock. There about,” he girds. 

“I’ll be around. Monday, then, Ger.” 

“Monday, honey.” 

You hang up. You arch your brow as your lips move with the retort you’re under terms and conditions not to say. ‘If you want honey, Gerald, go find a hive.’ You sigh to your content and adjust your rob beneath the satin belt cinched around your waist. 

There’s a knock at the door. You look at the clock in its ivory frame. It must be the mailman. You answer and accept his bundle. Some from those who watch your pictures and a letter from your sister. You shuffle through them and leave them scattered over the kitchen table. 

You pace. You’d hoped to have that script early. You might not be very happy with the films they’ve put you on but learning lines at least keeps your mind busy.  

As you sweep through the entryway, your satin robe catches the air and sends a breeze around the space. There’s a scuff along the hardwood that snags on the tassled corner of the rug. You must’ve dropped it when you took the handful from the mailman. 

You bend to pluck up the scrap of paper, folded in a tight square. When you untuck the corner, it forms a sort of accordion. You carefully unfold it, careful not to tear it. You reveal its sparse contents. 

The crosshatch of an inky nib has formed an image. One you vaguely recognise as yourself. The war feels like ages ago though it only just ended. It’s back to business as usual. No more tours through Europe, no more riding in cargo bays with the prettied up dances. Everything is all so dull these days. 

In the hastily scratched portrait, your hair is painfully twisted into victory rolls and the military cap pinned at just the right angle. You remember the soldiers, the worn gray palour and dark circles, the tatters in their uniforms as the complained for drawing lines up their legs to mimic the nylon these men needed to jump out of planes. 

You examine the torn edge and a few blots of ink and some other dark hue. There’s a scrawl in the corner. Loopy writing; ‘Happy Valentines. Only you on my mind. JBB’. Those messages are not unexpected. You are thankful for your admirers if not at time, perturbed by their assumptions of familiarity. Yet, you’ve chose the studio lights and camera lenses. It comes with the territory. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s three o’clock. Bucky’s watch is set, tightly strapped to his right wrist. Out of habit, he looks to the left and finds nothing. His shoulder is itchy where his muscles should tug but there’s nothing there. Just a pinned sleeve and frustration. 

He clears his throat and keeps the thick bound folder under his arm. The boy gave him no trouble, asked no questions. I’m the porter, kid, I’ll see it to her. No need to go bothering the lady. 

He marches down the winding stone walk. His car is near the sprawl of pine. He misses his motorcycle but he can’t figure how to steer it with one hand. Even the steering wheel gives him a bit of trouble. 

He presses his arm tighter to the script as he approaches the stoop. There’s a round stone platform before the door that forms steps up to the entrance. Moulds of ancient Greek statues stand in small alcoves beneath the lights on either side of the door frame.  

He stops before the door and bends his head as he tries to fix his hair. He shaved for this. It’s been a while. He spent long with the scissors, clipping through the shanks than he did with the razor. That’s another thing that’s harder. He struggled to get just the right angle around the left side of his jaw. There’s a nick there. 

He straightens up and stares at the arched door. He needs to knock. He has to step close and batters his knuckles on the wood. He backs up and looks down. He hasn’t worn a suit since he came home. They made him do it as they shouted ‘victory’ in the streets. 

He waits. No answer. He looks around. She has a bell. He shifts around then uses his nose to press it. Damn arm. 

He fixes his posture and smiles, then quickly wipes it away. You don’t want to look strange. No, not like some of the men they took off the lines. They got that glassy look. Some of them couldn’t do anything but laugh or cry. 

Her shadow darkens under the door before she opens it. She’s surprised by him. She bats her long lashes. They are naked, like the rest of her face. He’s just as stunned to see her in her natural form. No cosmetics, all her. She’s even more gorgeous. 

“Oh, I was expecting Stuart,” she greets him. “Pardon,” she tries to fix her hair. She wears a satin robe and slippers with feathers. “You have it?” 

She gestures to the script. He looks down at it and slides it down to his hands. He examines the cover. 

“Uh, yes, ma’am, miss,” he forgets everything he meant to say. All those lines he rehearsed in the dark theatre. The script he wrote when he lay restless in his bed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she reaches for it. He hesitates to hand it over. 

“I saw you. In the Hague,” he says as she latches onto the spine. He doesn’t let go. 

She looks at him. She has a serene look on her face, even as her eyes wander down to his pinned sleeve. She almost seems to brighten. 

“With the company?” She asks. “You saw me on stage?” 

“You’re real funny, miss,” he bounces on his heels. “Charming.” 

“Well, it’s the least I could do for your men. You gave so much,” she keeps a hold of the script. 

He looks at his left shoulder then at her. 

“Some things were taken,” he grumbles. 

She blanches, “pardon me, sir, I didn’t mean--” 

“I just wanted to say,” he overrides her apology. She doesn’t need to be sorry. “When I was in the medic’s tent, all those weeks, it was you. You got me through. I saw ya in the magazines. They were old, you know? Don’t get them hot off the press in the field.” 

“Sure,” she utters, he feels the tension in the folder as she tries to wiggle it away. “What’s your name, sir?” 

“James,” he answers. “James Buchanan Barnes.” 

She smiles, “that’s a lovely name. I do appreciate you coming to give me this. And for everything else.” 

He lets go of the folder. He expected more. She might invite him in for a drink. He did lose a fucking arm so the ladies could keep their precious slippers and robes. And he came all the way down her to give her that lump of papers. 

“You have a good day, sir,” she slowly inches the door forward. 

Where are her goddamn manners? 

He slaps his hand against the door and she squeaks in fright. He keeps her from closing it in his face. He cleaned himself up nice for her, he sent her a letter. He’s sent her at least a hundred. He signed them all JBB. She knows him. 

So why is she trying to shut him out? 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stumble back as the man shoves the door out of your grasp. You gasp and the grip the script with both hands, like a shield. He steps inside calmly. 

“James,” you say his name, “what are you doing?” 

“The least you can do is ask me in, doll,” he snarls. The sudden shift in his demeanour fills you with dread. 

“No, James, I did not. You need to leave--” 

He swings the door shut and marches toward you. You raise the script and bring it forward, aiming it at him in a desperate attempt to fend him off. He knocks it away easily. He's strong. Still a soldier even in street clothes. 

“James,” you hold your palms up helplessly, “please, forgive me if I’ve--” 

“Shhhh,” he reaches between your hands and grabs you by the jaw. “I just... I want to... did you get my letters?” 

“Letters?” You gulp, writhing in his hold as you gently touch his forearm. “Well, James, I get many letters--” 

“I write to you every day,” he hisses. “It’s me. JBB.” 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Stop saying my name,” he sneers. 

You shut your mouth, your lip poking out as it trembles. You stare at him, petting his sleeve, hoping you can calm him. The war changed a lot of men. It stole a lot of them too. 

“I just... I love you, doll. You got me through. You kept me breathing,” he growls as he walks her backward. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” 

You whimper, “why don’t you let me go and I’ll pour you a drink?” 

He stops and his brows pinch together. He looks to his left, where your liquor cabinet stands in the dining room. Where your phone is... 

“No,” his eyes flick back to you. “No, I don’t drink.” 

He pushes you until your heels meet the bottom stair. Your right slipper falls off and he tips you over the incline. You fall beneath him as he follows you down. You push on his chest and wriggle. 

He straddles you beneath him as he looks you up and down. His knees are on the step by your hips, his heels two down. You brace the sharp edge and whine. 

“James...” 

He hushes you as his thumb rubs beneath your cheekbone. He stares at your body, his chest rising and falling heavily. You push yourself down into the stairs. 

“Open your robe,” he demands. 

Your lip quivers violently as you bat back tears. You do as he says. You unknot the belt and slowly draw it open. You tug the satin apart and reveal your silky nightgown. The fabric cling to you like water. 

He shudders as his jaw squares. He bites his lip and shifts over you. He leans in slowly and your eyes meet as he gets closer. They are blue and deep like the ocean. You shiver as his nose touches yours. 

He exhales and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Show me the bedroom,” he growls.  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He lets her up cautiously. She steadies her feet and turns up the staircase. She limps up, click, clap, click, clap. He bends to pick up her slipper and follows. 

As she reaches the top, he stops her with her name. She pauses. He gets down and she doesn’t react until he shows her slipper. She puts her foot through. He stands and points her onward. 

He couldn’t climb to see through the bedroom window. He only ever saw the first floor. She hugs herself as her robe flutters around her figure. She opens the door at the end of the hall. She steps back to let him through and he tuts. 

He makes her go in first. She enters and sweeps around, far from him. He elbows the door shut. She cowers by the wall as he strides around.  

There’s a phone beside the bed. He grabs it and yanks it free of the cord. Her slippers suddenly click in a flurry. He drops the phone and catches her at the door. He crushes her against it so it snaps back into the frame. 

“Doll, don’t be doin’ all that,” he warns as he pinches her neck and urges her away from the door. She whimpers and he turns her to face the bed, “robe off.” 

He lets her go. She pulls away and drags his hands down her neck. She shyly pushes the robe from her shoulders and peels it off her body. The silk nightgown swathes her perfectly. Her shape is so full and soft. 

She drapes the robe over the bedpost and shies away. He clucks and snaps his fingers. 

“Doll,” he looks down at himself. He has the whole getup. Jacket, vest, tie, shirt. All for her. “Need your help.” 

She faces him. Her eyes glimmer like gems. She watches his hand smooth down his jacket and he unbuttons it. 

She nears him. She smells like vanilla. She brings her hands up. They shake. She must be excited. How could she not be? Finally, they’re together. 

He grabs his lapels and guides the jacket back. She’s tender with the folded sleeve and tickles his hemmed shirt beneath. She carries the jacket to the seat by her vanity and returns to him. He can see her pulse in her throat, it’s going just as fast as his. 

She unbuttons his vest and slips it off him. Her touch is soothing. Then she undoes his tie, her fingers brushing his throat. She unveils him, piece by piece, as his stomach clenches and unclenches. 

She stalls as she gets to his trousers. Her fingers twiddle just before the button. 

“It’s your first time,” he drawls. “Dont’ gotta be shy, doll.” 

She looks at him and swallows. She nods stiffly then puts her eyes down. The unplucks the front of his pants. He can make it nice for her. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

First time... 

Nope. You won’t say you haven’t made mistakes. Still, you won’t chance angering this man. Not more than you already have. You can keep up the act if it pays off. Not in money this time, no, your life. 

You stand back as he’s naked before you. Your wipe your damp palms on your nightie. He hangs his head. You can’t help but stare at his scars. The tortured flesh around his shoulder that extends onto his chest. Looks like a burn. 

His eyes startle you. You meet them. He steps closer. 

“Your turn,” he growls. 

You look down and reach for the thin lace straps of the night gown. You slide them down and shimmy the silken sheath down your figure. Your chest peeks over and he inhales audibly. As you push the fabric past your hips, he groans. 

Your eyes wander up for an instant. He's hard, bobbing shamelessly as he nears. All at once, he herding you back against the bed. You fall over the foot and bounce on the mattress. 

He crushes you. He kisses your lips then your cheek, smearing saliva across your face with his frantic hunger. You close your eyes and go rigid as you let him do what he pleases. 

His voice escapes him like silt. He nuzzles and nips along your throat. He shifts onto his side and feels up and down your torso. He fondles your tits and his mouth trails his touch. He seals his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around and around. 

He hooks his leg around yours. He pulls your thighs apart and his hand traces down your stomach and pelvis. He slips his middle finger between your lips and strums at your clit. You tense and twitch as your nerves stir. 

Your breath hitches as he rubs firmly. You turn your head and bite your knuckle as a moan escapes you. You arch your back as the sparks turn to a flame. You shake through your orgasm as he drags you through it. 

He pushes another finger between your folds. He rubs up and down, smearing your juices around as he hum. He lifts his head and nuzzles your cheek. 

“Kiss me, doll.” 

You pull your hand away and press your lips to his. His tongue delves into your mouth as his fingers slide into your cunt. He growls and smothers you as he rocks your pelvis. The heel of his hand rests against your clit and your toes curl as you writhe. You bend your legs as he lights another fire in you. 

He tilts his hips, rubbing his cock on your leg as he humps you in time with his fingers. Your walls squeeze and tremour and your climax again. You whine into his mouth and he drinks it in. 

He drags his fingers free and wipes your pleasure on your thighs. He parts from your mouth and heaves himself onto his knees. He kneels between your legs and traces the curves of your body with his hand. 

“Doll, please, you put me in,” he orders. “Be careful, don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You reach down without hesitation. You want this over with. You just hope he leaves after. 

You grab his cock and angle it down against your cunt. You flinch as his tip brushes your clit and you push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and he shakes. He grunts as he tenses and inches into you. 

He grits his teeth and exhales through his nose as he impales you. You constrict around him. He’s big enough to make your walls ache. He leans over you, planting his hand next to your head, and thrusts until he’s buried to his limit. 

You slap your palm against his chest and puff out through your locked jaw. You quake around him as he pulls back. His eyes fall to the crux of your bodies as he watches himself push into you again. You dig your nails into his skin. 

He snarls and bends his arm, holding himself on his elbow. He covers your mouth with his once more and rolls his hips. You whine and nearly gag around his tongue. He pumps again and again. You press against his sides as you squeeze him between your thighs. 

The bed shakes as his rhythm picks up. You push on his stomach and thigh, begging him silently to be nicer. He doesn’t heed your pleas. You give in to the ravaging of your body as he ruts wildly. You hook your hand around his bicep and clamp down to keep from biting his tongue. 

Just a bit more and it will end. Almost there. Almost free... right? 

[chxmpagneprxblem]

Chapter Four - Third Thing

Tough Love Masterlist

“Third date, huh?” Leah asked. She was sprawled across your bed, her usual spot when she was at your house rather than the other way around.

It had been a while since you hosted the Thursday sleepover but Bella hadn’t had a nightmare in such a long time. It had been a peaceful night, the usual movie and take out.

But now it was Friday afternoon and you were curling your hair at your vanity while Leah put a voice to your anxieties.

“Yeah, third date.” You sighed and looked up at her in the mirror. You knew the expectations around the third date and you knew Paul’s past reputation.

It wasn’t like you were a blushing virgin or afraid to sleep with him. You just didn’t know if you were quite there.

You and Paul had made out a little on the first date at his house. Your second date had been in a bar in Portland to see some underground band you liked. You had gotten a little handsy in his truck after.

But this was the third date. He was making dinner and had something to discuss. Which was also making you feel more and more nauseous as the day wore on.

“You think he expects you to sleep together? Maybe he’s gonna ask you to be his girlfriend.” Leah rolled over so she was on her belly, hands propping up her chin.

“Isn’t three dates a little early? For either of those things?” You asked her desperately and she shrugged. “I mean three weeks ago I was glaring at him in the diner.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Leah reminded you and you sighed, shoulders tensing up by your ears. You curled the last piece of hair and switched the curler off.

“If I say no to either it looks bad. Things won’t be the same. What if he doesn’t like me anymore?” You asked and she sat up on the bed. You turned on your stool to face her.

“The he can fuck off. If he’s gonna treat you differently for not wanting to sleep with him yet then I’ll go down there and make sure he can’t sleep with anyone anymore.” You smiled at how heated she got, her hands shaking.

“Relax Lee, he hasn’t even done anything wrong. I’m just, you know, what if?” You sighed and Leah clambered off the bed to come over and kneel in front of you.

“If he’s the right guy then he’ll choose you. Just like I keep choosing you over and over again. You’re the winning choice, always.” You nodded, pursing your lips and inhaling deeply through your nose to keep the tears at bay.

“Once you keep choosing me then I’ll be okay.” She smiled and leaned up to wrap you in a hug.

///

Paul pursed his lips when you answered the door and shook his head. “How’s a guy supposed to keep up when you look this good?”

Roses, store bought this time, were passed into your hands and you smiled, inhaling from them and then without looking, you passed them back to your father who got far too much joy out of annoying you.

“You know-“

“I’m going to go joy riding in the cruiser and leave it somewhere you’ll never find it if you finish your sentence.” You warned your laughing father. You grabbed your jacket and ushered Paul out the door. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“No problem, Sunshine.” He helped you up into the truck and you rolled your eyes at the stupid nickname that seemed like it was sticking.

When he got in on his own side his hand found yours, which had become customary. Paul drove a manual truck and still held your hand between gear shifts.

Paul was consistent in the small gestures that showed you how much he really cared. It was beyond fascinating to you that you had internalized so much contempt for him when he was this sweet in person.

“How was your sleepover?” Paul asked, tapping his thumb against your hand to draw your attention back from where it had drifted.

“It was good. Leah got that new Cheaper By The Dozen movie on DVD.” You told him, turning to watch his side profile while he drove.

“The one with Hilary Duff?” You scoffed, attempting to pull your hand free. He only laughed, holding tight.

“Of course you’d know she’s in it. You’re such a guy.” You rolled your eyes, accepting that you weren’t getting your hand back.

“Nah, I only got eyes for you baby.” He laughed and you only turned your face away. “Hey now, you’re way prettier than Hilary Duff.”

“I’m sure I am.” You muttered, trying to hide your smile from him. “Pity you ain’t as hot as that Tom Welling guy. You know the older brother?”

Paul only laughed at you, squeezing your hand and shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

“Whatever.” You pursed your lips, still trying to hide your smile.

“But if we’re talking hall passes then-“ you pulled your hand from his, smacking him while he laughed.

///

“So you cook, you have your own place, you bring me flowers and you do all the clean up too.” You were sitting on the counter by the sink, glass of wine in hand, right where Paul had put you while he washed the dinners. “Why are you still single?”

“Well, I mean am I technically single if we’re dating?” He asked, wiping his hands on a towel to dry them. “Because I don’t count myself as single.”

“Besides me. Before me.” You sighed, parting your legs when he slipped between you. He stole the wine glass from your hand and you let your arms rest over his shoulders.

“I haven’t ever done this for anyone. I don’t bring people into my home. I don’t cook them dinner. I don’t let them sit pretty while I wash the dishes.” He shrugged and your arms shifted with the movement. You curled one hand around the back of his neck, scratching your nails through the hair at his nape.

“I’m sure I’m the first.” You laughed and then frowned when Paul did. “Paul I know you got around. I’m not bothered by it.”

“I mean technically, yes. But I didn’t date them. I didn’t bring them over here. I’m not treating you like this because I want to sleep with you.” He sighed and you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek to draw a smile from him.

“So why me?” You asked him quietly. He hummed, tilting his head into your hand massaging his scalp. He was like a puppy, basking in the comfort.

“Well, I’ve known since the first moment I really looked at you that I wanted you. I want to date you. Do it properly.” He admitted and you laughed.

“Oh yeah, you knew that three years ago in Jared Call’s bathroom?” You asked and his brows scrunched together in confusion. “You and Jenna Fuller were getting off but I had a puking Leah do I kicked you out of the bathroom.”

“I don’t remember that so it doesn’t count.” He argued and you laughed at his petulant pout. “I meant that day in the diner. You looked at me like you wanted to string me up by my own intestines and what can I say? I was kind of into it.”

“That’s oddly sweet.” You laughed and pressed a short kiss to his lips. “Who knew you were so soft? You better be careful or everyone will know.”

“I don’t care who knows once you do.” Paul chuckled, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ve got something I’d like to talk about with you.”

You swallowed and nodded against his forehead before pulling back. This was it. He could only possibly want to talk about one of two things. Sex or a relationship.

“Go on.” You urged and he smiled at you softly again. He hesitated and it was your turn to smile. “Best rip it off. Like a band aid.”

“I’m a Spirit Warrior Wolf and I imprinted on you.”

Or maybe a third, very different topic. Like your almost boyfriend being stuck in a psychosis.

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Yeah, he likes to flirt, but he never expected you to reciprocate-!

A cocky and then flustered mikey based on @luckycharms1701 's response to my ask

[hannieween]

hell bent | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 12.7k

› 🎧: this man – jxw

› special thanks to @gyuswhore who helped me proofreading this 🩵

› this is part 4 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: hurt/comfort! major character death scene (it's not described in great detail), resurrection, grief, injury, blood, alcohol consumption, smut with plot, sex dreams, unprotected p in v, creampie and pull-out method, corruption kink, exhibitionism, love making, jeonghan is down bad, breeding kink, oral sex, pussy drunk jeonghan, buff jeonghan. pet names: baby (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

hell bent

JEONGHAN SAT ON THE GROUND FOR WHAT FELT LIKE AN ETERNITY. He stared at the horizon until the darkness dissolved and the sun rose. The weight in his arms increased as the seconds went by until he grew numb and cold in the morning mist.

He blinked when the sunlight started to hurt his eyes. His throat was sore and dry from screaming, and his fists were bloody. But that did not matter. All that mattered was gone. He looked down where you lay motionless in his arms. Cold and bloody.

Hours had dragged on, and the time to move was drawing near. But he feared that if he moved, reality would set in. He cupped your cheek, kissing your forehead before pressing his own on yours, and waited. He waited for you to open your eyes, to feel your take in a breath.

It was over.

He got up, carrying your limp body in his arms. Once on his feet, the weight of your body caused a deep blow to his chest.

You laid on the backseat of his car as he drove aimlessly until he found a place deserted enough to hide. A place to bury your body.

The hole he dug in the ground was surrounded by trees, small patches of grass that grew small flowers attracting butterflies in, and in the distance, he could hear the chirping of birds. You looked peacefully asleep once he laid you there.

It was over. The torture was over. The pain, the suffering, all of that. And for a small moment, he thought you were smiling.

When Jeonghan stumbled upon the headquarters, he did not even bother knocking, because they saw his car parked on the driveway of the old manor.

Seungcheol opened the door, a bewildered look on his face, mouth parted, brows drawn inward. “What happened to you?” he asked, stepping aside to let Jeonghan in.

Jeonghan hugged his arm to his body. “Is Joshua here?” he asked instead, hurrying to the hospital wing of the manor.

“What’s happening?” Joshua raised his head, standing up from the desk pushed to the far end of the long room. His gaze fell on Jeonghan and got to work in an instant. “Sit,” he motioned to one of the beds.

Jeonghan obliged, letting out a pained groan as he sat down. “I need a favor,” he forced out, sitting still as Joshua grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting through Jeonghan’s zipper hoodie to reveal the deep cut from the shoulder to the elbow.

“Tell me what happened to you,” Joshua asked softly, it sounded like a routine question. But Jeonghan knew it was genuine curiosity. Joshua sat down on a stool beside the bed, examining all the damage done.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan muttered. “I need you to do something for me.”

Seungcheol stood before the bed, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”

Jeonghan took in a breath, mustering the courage to speak as pain throbbed inside him. “In the outskirts of Veridian Bay, some three kilometres south, are three dead hunters.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “Demons? Were you with them?”

Jeonghan shook his head, swallowing hard. “I killed them.”

Both Joshua and Seungcheol stopped dead in their tracks. Hunter deaths were common, and they were just reported, families were contacted in some cases. But most of the time, they went unnoticed. But hunters killing other hunters was something out of the ordinary.

“Jeonghan, what happened?” Joshua asked slowly and with a tone laced with concern.

Jeonghan shuddered, shaking his head again. “I can’t,” he choked out. “I just need that taken care of. I couldn’t go back to get them.”

Seungcheol ran a palm on his face, and Jeonghan knew he would not let this go easily. But he just nodded and turned around to strut out of the hospital wing. “Consider it done.”

Jeonghan and Joshua waited quietly, sitting very still until the loud noise of the front door slamming shut announced that they were alone. In the distance, the roar of Seungcheol’s bike echoed throughout the clear of the vicinity, growing more and more distant as he drove away.

Joshua continued working, cleaning the wound on Jeonghan’s arm, sending glances to his face to both measure how much painJeonghan was experiencing and to wait for him to talk.

“They killed her,” Jeonghan croaked, closing his eyes as a painful shudder swarmed inside him, threatening to break his mind.

“The hunters?” Joshua murmured.

“They came for her, I couldn’t do anything. She was gone before I could get to her,” he whispered, his face contorting in pain from the first puncturing of the needle stitching his skin back together, and the image of you lying on the ground.

“It has been months since we last talked, Jeonghan,” Joshua mentioned, carefully closing one stitch. “What changed?”

Jeonghan shook his head, refusing to open his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Joshua replied, his gentle tone easing some of the anxiousness in Jeonghan’s mind.

Jeonghan opened his eyes, finding his best friend sitting beside him. “Do you know anything about bonds?” he asked, waiting until Joshua nodded reluctantly. “Pacts, deals, promises… everything we were taught in training, you know that they are binding contracts with demons.”

Joshua frowned. “Did you make a pact with her?” he asked knowingly.

“Much worse,” Jeonghan replied, adding an empty smile that felt crazy to him. “She was bound to me and I to her since we were born.”

Joshua blinked a couple of times, tilting his head to one side and lowering his medical tools just a little. His gaze glided over the features of Jeonghan’s weary and dirty face, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You know,” Jeonghan asserted once his best friend remained quiet. “Did you know about this?”

Joshua sent his gaze upward, outlining the corners of the room pensively. “I’m never on the field, not like you and Seungcheol. I stay here, I patch all of you up and in the meantime, I hear the stories you bring from out there.”

“Please get to the point,” Jeonghan gritted, bracing himself for more physical pain as Joshua resumed stitching his arm up.

“I’ve heard stories, yeah,” Joshua mumbled, carefully adding another stitch. “When you told me about her, I just wondered about it. But you never showed up again, so I couldn’t tell you anything.”

Jeonghan sighed in resignation. “She is my soulmate,” he said, the word coming out with enough weight to make his heart protest in pain.

“How do you feel?” Joshua pulled back to take a surveying look.

“I buried her… She’s gone,” Jeonghan mumbled dejectedly, his gaze falling out of focus, lost in the distance. “She’s gone.”

The small patches of flowers surrounding the place where you lay, would they grow over you? Do you like flowers?

“Sounds like you cared about her,” Joshua whispered, finishing up the last stitch.

“Everything happened so fast,” Jeonghan went on, swallowing his tears. “I couldn’t get to her in time. I felt her pain. I felt the last beating of her heart.”

Joshua stopped, the pause was minimal, but it meant something. “You felt it?”

Jeonghan nodded in sharp, but tiny motions. “They tried to cut her wings,” he whispered in a near-crazed look flashing his eyes. Jeonghan was lost in the memory, trying to retrace every move he made upon finding you, but he could not remember what he did to those hunters.

“Jeonghan, what do you mean you felt it?” Joshua pressed, his tone more urgent and Jeonghan could tell that his friend was worried about him.

“The bond. We can sense each other through it,” he said, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

“But not anymore?” Joshua prodded, his tone gentle and cautious, fearing that his friend might be losing touch with reality.

“Not anymore,” Jeonghan breathed in, his chest stammering as he suppressed a sob, tears welling up in his eyes.

“And the bond?” Joshua lifted his gaze from the work he was doing, his tone rose in worry.

“It’s still there,” Jeonghan sniffled, crestfallen as tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s still calling me to her, there’s just no receiving end.”

Joshua left his tools on the cart beside him, discarding the rags filthy with blood. He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders going slack. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, gently patting Jeonghan’s back, then bringing his hand to the back of his head, caressing as if to soothe him.

But there was nothing that could ever soothe Jeonghan’s pain. The emptiness inside him seemed to ache at its edges, his mind felt shaken with the reality he was thrust into. It seemed insane that it had been hours since he kissed you, eager with the prospect of starting fresh with you.

And now you were gone.

There was no point in cursing at life’s way to mock him anymore. Jeonghan thought this was the way he was paying for all the times he neglected you, all the times he hurt you. But the selfish part in him wished that life had given him the opportunity to say goodbye to you.

Jeonghan’s heart broke the night he lost you.

Despite everything that happened, he tried to move on. He convinced himself that life still went on and that you would have wanted him to move forward.

He kept your memory alive through small things. Some mornings he would go to a diner and order pancakes with syrup and bacon. When he was alone in his room, he would pretend you were there with him. He would imagine hearing your laugh, the small sounds you made when you slept.

It was the first month since you were gone. Jeonghan never had the opportunity to know what your favorite flowers were if you even liked receiving flowers. So he routinely left a different bouquet of flowers on the grave he made for you. He left lilies, the first time he went to visit you, one hand holding the bouquet, the other holding a bottle of rum.

He sat on the ground, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. The clear was quiet and dense with humidity, his senses stimulated by the smell of wet grass and dirt.

There was a peace that filled the emptiness inside him as he sat beside your grave. As though the bond could rest easy once he was there, even though there was no response from you.

Jeonghan grabbed the bottle with one hand around its neck and tipped a generous amount of rum in his mouth. Exhaling harshly, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “At least we have our answer, eh?” Jeonghan muttered glumly.

The next time he went there, some three weeks later, he brought you petunias. He thought that they would look good along with the wild chamomiles that were growing around you. This time he realized that he did not bring a bottle with him, and he did not need it. He just sat there, content with the peace that being near you brought him.

The third month you laid there, he brought you peonies. This time, he bought them with the memory of your glinting eyes the last and only time he saw you with joy and love glowing all around you.

He stood before the grave with his hands inside his pockets, looking at the ground adorned with flowers. “I don’t even know if you liked flowers,” he said, an empty smile curving his lips. “But I don’t know what else people leave on graves.”

With a tired sigh, he sat down on the ground, tucking his legs in a butterfly position. His fingers toyed with the grass growing in patches beneath him. The stillness of the clearing offered him the moment for reflection; he ventured again with questions about you. He never wondered about what the afterlife would look like, but sometimes he liked to think that there was some preternatural way you could listen to him.

“Shua saw me with flowers this morning,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “He said nothing, just told me to come back before sundown. I think he’s known for a while that I come here to visit you.” He raised his gaze, finding the sunlight filtering through the thicket of the trees, bathing him. “He’s a good friend, I think you would like him.”

Jeonghan lowered his gaze to the flowers sitting on the ground. He propped one elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his fist. “I almost didn’t come here this time,” he muttered guiltily, filling his chest with air to try to push the ache inside him.

It was as though the mere thought of not coming here to visit you made the bond protest. When you were alive, it was the mad craving for you that did not allow him to stay away for long. Now, it was just a thing that pulsated inside him, calling for you.

He breathed in, filling his lungs with the humid air of the quiet forest, trying to gulp down the knot coiling around his throat. “I miss you,” he whispered to the ground, his eyes brimming with hot tears. “I wish I could go back and do things differently with you… I wish I hadn’t been so stupid.”

He stood up, dusting the dirt from his hands while contemplating whether he wanted to say goodbye to you or not. Instead, he turned and walked away from the clear, enjoying the chirping of the birds keeping you company as he returned home.

Jeonghan returned to the manor, where he had been living since that night. The smell of food distracted him before he went to his designated room, so he just walked to the kitchen, finding Joshua busy preparing dinner.

“You’re back,” Joshua muttered gently, but the look he sent was weary. “I thought you’d be gone for longer.”

“There was not much to do,” he muttered offhandedly.

Joshua set a plate on the small dining table motioning to Jeonghan to the chair. “That’s for you,” he said.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan replied, sitting down with a tired groan. He kept an eye on his friend, pacing around the kitchen of the old manor. “What’s up with you?”

“Just thinking,” Joshua muttered, serving a plate for himself, and sat down in front of Jeonghan, occupying a space on the table too. “Ever tried summoning her?”

Jeonghan’s eyes went wide, his heart stammering for a split second. “What?” he choked out.

Joshua took the fork into his mouth and nodded, munching his food with ease, as though he was having the most normal conversation on the planet. “Have you ever tried summoning her?” he repeated slowly.

“No,” he replied, his tone coming out like a question.

“Mmm, I see,” he said, taking his cup to drink with long and generous gulps.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, but his friend kept drinking.

Joshua shrugged. “I just thought that you might’ve tried it at least once.”

“Why would I do that?” Jeonghan frowned, the ache palpitating strongly in his chest. “She’s gone.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that,” Joshua replied, lowering his gaze in shame.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your cheek against the side of his head. The sighs slowly turned into moans, spilling out of your lips relentlessly as you rolled your hips on him, fucking him slowly. “Jeonghan,” your voice called.

“I know, baby,” he replied, enjoying the feeling he got whenever he was with you, it was bright and alive and dancing on his skin. “I feel it too,” he whispered.

You moved your hands to cup his face, pressing a hard kiss on his lips as you started moving your hips on him faster. “I love you,” you breathed.

Jeonghan moaned, wrapping you with his arms to flip the positions on the bed, pressing your body against the mattress. “I love you,” he replied, a shudder overpowering him, making him utter your name, over and over as he made love to you.

He pressed his body against the hard mattress, calling your name again as he woke up violently with an exasperated sigh. Rubbing his hands against his face, he shook himself from the merciless dream he had of you. “Gods,” he choked out, covering his face in shame, breathing hard against his hands. “Fuck, fuck!”

The hole in his chest pulsated painfully, desperately calling out to you to no end. As he closed his eyes, gathering himself, he saw you in the eye of his mind. Your sweet smile, every curve of your body.

It seemed a true tragedy that he could feel you in his dreams only. He felt your skin, he felt the bond responding to you the way it used to when you were alive. It was the first time he dreamed of you since you left, and he suspected it would not be the last.

This was his burden to bear. And he would have to endure it.

When Jeonghan first met you, he could not make sense of the pull he felt. His surroundings warped and everything focused on you, on your face, your eyes, even your smell. Jeonghan did not feel the very particular repulsion he always felt whenever he came in close contact with a demon.

But he wished to. He tried to force himself to recoil at the thought of you, after he met you. But everything inside him made him want to walk right back to that pub where you used to work. In the back of his mind, he saw the doors to the pub, the bar, he wanted to go there one more time and see you.

It felt wrong. It felt so dirty and sticky to even think about you without recoiling. But Jeonghan was strong-willed, and very diligent on his job, so he just kept himself to his business. Tracking and getting rid of demons. But somehow, he could not get near you again, even if everything in his life obligated him to track you, hunt you.

Time went on like this, his mind plagued with the morbid curiosity to go back to that pub and see you again. In his dreams, he saw your eyes, he heard your voice make out the same exact words you told him the night he met you. He heard your voice utter your name, the sound echoing in the back of his mind as he tried to continue with his life.

Until one night, when something unfortunate happened.

It was one of those sleepless nights, Jeonghan decided to go on a night watch out of town. He was tracking some demon activity he was informed of nights ago. This demon apparently had a pattern which was not a rarity, demons could tend to go for certain humans at a certain time, it was not weird.

But apparently, this demon liked to hunt a particular kind of human; humans that were either wanted criminals or suspects of a crime, people that liked transgressing against their own in the worst ways imaginable. And that was something worth noting to Jeonghan, it made this demon easy to catch.

Or at least, that is what he had thought.

Night after night, Jeonghan had no luck falling asleep and when he went out to track this demon, he had no luck focusing on the task at hand. He was on the verge of calling it a night, wanting to fall asleep in his car, or in the nearest motel he could find. Walking aimlessly on the side of the road, he realized that it would take him about twenty minutes to get to where he parked his car and sighed.

A small shiver ran down his spine as if the line of his back was being stroked with the tip of a paintbrush. His eyelids fluttered in response, and his chest felt strange, like overcome by a fuzzy sensation.

He needed to be alert, he thought. A demon was around, and he could sense it. Stopping his lazy gait, he sent his gaze to scope his surroundings, through the thicket of trees flanking the lonely road.

But as the feeling inside him returned, and more intensely, he realized that he was in danger. A rustle of leaves echoed at the other side of the road where he stood, and slowly, a figure emerged from the trees, it moved gracefully and gently. A pair of dark horns distorted the shadow.

As he reached for the knife strapped to his thigh, he realized that he only felt endangered because it was you who moved through the shadows of the forest. And he wanted to avoid you above all.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again,” your voice reached him like a gentle caress on his mind.

“What are you doing here?” Jeonghan said, not removing his fist from the handle of his knife. “Are you following me?”

You tilted your head to one side, a smirk spreading on your lips. “Why, are you afraid of me?” you mused, laughing lightly. But when he did not reply to your quip, you just shrugged. “I came out because I was craving a snack. But I think you might suffice.”

His fist tightened around the handle, his eyes quickly reading your stance, but you remained leaning on your side to the trunk of the tree.

“Relax, hunter,” you said, tossing your hair from your shoulder to your back and crossing your arms. “Have a little laugh, you look tense.”

Jeonghan stood his ground, lifting his chin to analyze you a bit further. “Did you kill any humans tonight?”

“No, not yet,” you picked your nails, trying to appear as uninterested in his questioning as possible, but your heart was running a mile per second. Being around Jeonghan was thrilling, it made you feel full in your chest and every nerve beneath your skin to call for him.

“But you will,” he said, realizing that it was you, the demon he was looking for. The demon that only fed on men that hurt women and children.

“Well, a girl’s gotta eat,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the tree and taking a step toward him.

He tensed up at that instant, one foot stepping back but then he decided to hold his ground, trying to resist walking away. You were dangerous, and he did not know what set you apart from other demons.

You ignored the fact that he still had a hand on his knife, and he was very much as lethal as you were. Taking some steps to where he stood still, you coiled one finger around a strand of hair, smiling when you realized that he was not afraid of you, but weary.

“You seem like you need a night off,” you pointed, coming closer to him to take a fuller look at his face, seeing the bags under his lifeless eyes, and the dry skin on his lips.

“Don’t come any closer,” Jeonghan warned, rigid with the question of why he could not make his muscles move in any direction.

“Or what?” you asked, standing in front of him. “Are you going to kill me, hunter?” you asked, your eyes glimmering in the dark, full of curiosity.

“If you take another step I might,” Jeonghan replied with certainty, something in him stirring with a strange fascination when you smiled at the clear warning.

“No, you won’t,” you countered, giving him one of those looks that made him feel more uneasy. “You’re not at full strength, you’re tired, and hungry. And worst of all, you feel like you can’t move, am I right?”

It was like you could read into his soul, he thought. Your words were like wildfire spreading inside him, it made his insides boil with rage. Part of him wondered why he was made this uncomfortable and angry at something one demon said. Demons spoke out of the need to lure hunters into a trap, and this was no different. But this trap seemed so tempting.

To drive your point further, you took another step, inches away from Jeonghan.

“I make you nervous,” you whispered, fascination glinting on your eyes as you wallowed. “What are you going to do, Jeonghan? You can’t run away, and you can’t attack me, so what’s your next move?”

His breathing shifted when his name fell from your lips. He had never felt this way, he realized. The quick pulse, the fluttering in his stomach, the shaky breathing, he knew how nervousness felt, but this was entirely new to him.

“Hm?” you pressed, tilting your head to one side as you nearly stood on your tiptoes to level with him. “Come on, no one’s going to judge you if you run away, and I won’t tell a soul,” you showed him a mischievous smile, one that he might have hated if it were not for the tight feeling invading him wholly.

As you stood before him, one thing became painfully clear to him: he was attracted to you. It was something simply physical, or that was what he tried to convince himself. Maybe it was your pretty face, your velvety tone, the grace in which you moved. Not only that, as he casted a look down to meet your face, he also had a glimpse of your frame and the thought of wanting to meet every curve of your body was alluring.

So alluring that he wanted to surrender to it.

At that, your eyes shone more intensely. Again, as though you had a secret line to his thoughts, and you just had discovered what he was thinking.

But you sighed with faux disappointment. “And here I thought you were fun,” you pouted in mockery. “Pity. I guess I’ll just go and have fun elsewhere,” you moved again, walking around his body once, as though taking another full look at him. “Bye, hunter.”

And then you sunk into the line of trees again, disappearing from his view. But his senses were already tuned and following you, so he could hear every step you took down the forest. And he could not help but take a step in your direction as well.

That night, he chased you down the forest, his heart beating in a frenzy, his mind blank but with only one intention. You started sprinting, laughing lightly when he kept with your pace and ran closely behind you.

When Jeonghan was finally within reach, he grabbed your arm, turning you around and messing up your step. You stumbled back against a tree, realizing that he had calculated this because his arms were caging you in on both of your sides.

Jeonghan brought a hand to your throat, his fingers pressing on your skin harshly, his strength subsiding once he felt your pulse. But his face, riddled with confusion and frustration at the same time, his mouth parted a little as he could not bring himself to say anything. His gaze swam over the features of your pretty face, stopping once on your eyes, your lips.

The moment was deadly quiet as you witnessed the fire inside him die down slowly once he came in contact with you, skin on skin. It was game over, you knew it, and Jeonghan did too. There was a quiet exchange of glances right before Jeonghan dipped his head and you closed your eyes, gulping on air as his lips met your own with a swift kiss.

What possessed him to do that, Jeonghan did not know, but he was not in the position to ask himself any more questions because he did it again. Kissing you now with abandon, his lips sinking in between yours, making out with you like he never had with anyone else. You moaned into the kiss, sending him into a frenzy.

It was as though you were both committing a crime, and none of you would say a word. You grabbed him by the flaps of the black leather jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to your body, the proximity making your chest feel fuller, your blood heating up.

He released his grip on your throat, his fingers sliding down your torso to undo the button of your blouse. The next moves were rushed, as though neither of you wanted to stop and question what you were about to do. And the forest around you stood silent too, being witness to the fateful deed.

In seconds, Jeonghan had you pressed against the trunk of the tree, your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt hiked up your tummy, your chest naked and exposed to him. You sneaked a hand between your body and his, reaching for his hard cock to guide it to your entrance for him to sink inside you, making you feel every inch of his dick in one go.

The first stroke set your whole body aflame. Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as Jeonghan wasted no time and started fucking you with hard thrusts, not giving you time to adjust to the stretch of his cock. The wind got knocked out of your lungs with sharp exhales, but you kept yourself angled for the merciless rutting, unable to look away from the fiery obsession growing inside him, showing on his face.

Neither of you said a thing, just kept looking at each other, unable to speak, or to look away. The feeling was exquisite, invading every inch of your body, tingling beneath your skin. Jeonghan’s eyes glazed over, his mouth parting slightly but he kept himself quiet, fucking you to get rid of the thing trying to rip his heart out.

And when you reached your orgasm, it was the best feeling you had ever experienced in your life. It had you finally moaning out his name, clenching around him as he too spilled himself inside you with hard thrusts.

That was the night that kickstarted the deep craving and obsession you had for each other, the push and pull that Jeonghan could not make sense of until the night you told him of the bond. That was the night that Jeonghan regretted for a long time until he lost you.

“Hey, are you there?”

Jeonghan lifted his head, snapping back to reality. He had been contemplating for hours, sitting in the kitchen with a mug of cold tea in his hands. His fingers had grown cold again. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Mingyu opened the fridge for the fifth time that day, just to close it again. “Wonwoo and I are going to a Halloween parade downtown, see if we catch something fun. Wanna come with us?”

Jeonghan did not know for how long he had been sitting there reminiscing about you. In his mind, Jeonghan could still feel your touch on his skin, so it was difficult for him to assimilate what he had just heard, so he nodded again, accepting the invitation. “Sure,” he croaked.

“‘Kay,” Mingyu smiled giddily with the triumph of getting Jeonghan out of the house. “See you in the garage in five minutes.”

The streets were full of nocturnal life. People came out with costumes of all kinds, some of them were recognizable to Jeonghan, and some were not. It was a small city where the headquarters were located, but Jeonghan was not surprised to see a lot of people gathering there for the Halloween parade.

Demons ran amok in places like this, they practically crawled into these types of events, and humans were easier prey in crowded places. It was also easier for demons to mask themselves.

“We should go, Mingyu,” Jeonghan said, moving through the crowd and using Mingyu as a shield.

“Maybe we could move to the sidelines,” Wonwoo suggested, walking behind Jeonghan. “It would be easier to stay alert like that, we don’t have to be in the thick of the crowd.”

“Have a little fun, you two,” Mingyu said. He was a person that could find the good side to nearly everything, even this damned job, Jeonghan thought.

“I’m going to take a breather,” Jeonghan said, trying to cut through the crowd.

“Gods, you are one ray of sunshine,” Mingyu tutted. “Come on, this way,” he motioned to one side of the multitude of people, where they could cross more efficiently.

Jeonghan followed, walking away from the sea of people, and starting to thread through it to get to the other side of the street when he felt it. It was a rush, tingling down from the back of his head to the rest of his spine. It left him speechless, breathless.

“Wait,” Jeonghan blurted, placing a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.

“What is it?” he frowned, sending his gaze through the sea of faces. The muscles of his jaw twitched, and as he drew in a breath, he exhaled: “Demon.”

Jeonghan stood frozen, eyes fixated on the pavement. “No,” he uttered dejectedly, straightening up to catch his breath. Not just any demon. He searched through the mass of unknown eyes, the masks, the makeup, growing more and more desperate as the feeling returned caressing his back, making him shudder.

“Jeonghan, what is it?” Mingyu muttered beside him, squaring up his shoulders after noticing the shocked expression on his face.

Yoon Jeonghan would know your face anywhere. Not just that, but the way the very air seemed to change whenever you were near.

“Mingyu, stop,” he whispered, digging his fingers on the muscle to bring him to a halt.

Mingyu dropped his jaw slightly, ignoring Jeonghan’s direct order and made a motion to step into the crowd again, a hand reaching for the knife on his back.

“I said stop,” Jeonghan ordered at once, his tone firm and snappy.

You moved through the sea of people, your eyes swimming all over the place in true amazement, your mouth parting as you looked at the costumes that the people around you wore.

Jeonghan shuddered, unable to blink in fear you were an illusion. But Mingyu saw you too, he saw your wings in full display, brushing against the humans around you, and he saw your black horns curving back from the crown of your head.

You laughed when a man dressed in a killer clown costume jumped on you, trying to get a scare out of you but failing miserably. The sound of your laughter made Jeonghan weak, it made him want to dissolve into the pavement below his feet.

“What the fuck?” Mingyu whispered, looking at you and then back at Jeonghan. “She’s a demon, what are we waiting for?”

“She’s mine,” Jeonghan snapped but did not look away from you. He simply removed his hand from Mingyu’s shoulder and started to walk slowly towards you as you moved through the myriads of costumes, wide-eyed in amazement.

As he came closer, reality seemed more and more like a joke to him. He tried to convince himself that perhaps he was dreaming again. But there was no denying the bond pulsating stronger as he approached you.

“Nice wings,” a guy said in passing, catching your attention but only for a fleeting moment.

You made no reply, only continued looking at your surroundings, the lights mirroring your dark eyes, full of hunger, full of life. Dark eyes that glided all over Jeonghan’s frame as he stood in front of you, perplexed to the point he forgot speech, he forgot how to use his mouth.

“What are you supposed to be?” you asked, tilting your head to one side.

Jeonghan did not know what to reply, as he was unsure that you even knew that you spent the last three months three feet below ground. You looked as alive as the day he told you he loved you.

You died, I buried you. Jeonghan’s mind reeled over and over. Your heart stopped beating, I buried you.

“I’m… I…” Jeonghan whispered, not by choice, but by the inability to raise his voice higher.

Your eyes went over the features of his face, and he expected eagerly to see a glint of recognition in them, but you beat him to it. “Do I know you?” you asked, your voice soft and gentle with him, but you did not know that your question might have been like a dagger to his heart.

His heart caved in, and he took the pain as he had been taking it for the last three months that you were gone. “I don’t think so, no,” he finally said, his pulse quickening upon realizing that the sound of his voice made your pupils dilate.

His voice. A very distant memory, like trying to recall a lost dream upon waking up from a long nap. You studied him with your gaze one more time, trying to figure out why his face meant something to you.

Jeonghan saw his two companions through the corner of his eye, but he ignored them, knowing the reason why you also looked so wide-eyed. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and seeing your brow furrowing, he quickly added with a thumb pointing back. “There’s a diner down the street, far away from all this noise.”

And far away from any potential casualties.

“I suppose I don’t get a name,” you quipped, and shivers ran down his spine.

So he tried to figure out if that brought back any memories when he said: “Only if I get yours first.”

Your gaze went soft, your breathing quickening slightly but only for him to notice it. You did not know your name, and the realization shook you so hard that it made you dizzy. “Yeah, I think I’ll go with you. If you’re buying.”

At that, Jeonghan mustered up a light smile, seeing that although your memories were gone, you were still you. “Yeah, I’m buying.”

He cast a look back only to make sure that Mingyu had understood why Jeonghan had ordered him to stop. And there was a knowing look mirroring back in Mingyu’s eyes, as he needed no explanation. Jeonghan nodded to him and then motioned you to follow down the street where the diner was located.

As you walked in front of him, he got a view of your entire frame. The t-shirt you had worn the day that you died was torn on the back midway through, for when those hunters tried to cut your wings. The rest of your clothes were dirty too, black with traces of blood and dirt, adding to the illusion of a Halloween costume.

“This place is good. I’ve been here many times before,” Jeonghan lied, keeping an eye on you to see if you were keen on catching his lies. “The pancakes and syrup are delicious.”

“Pancakes and syrup?” your eyes flitted to his face and back to the diner as Jeonghan pushed the door open, holding it for you.

Jeonghan nodded in short motions, his heart deflating a little when he saw no evidence that you had caught his lie. “You’ll love it.”

“Mmn,” you hummed confusedly, following him like a puppy that has just found a knowing elder. “I believe you.”

Jeonghan motioned to a seat of one of the booths and you slid obediently, crossing your arms on the table. He flagged down one of the servers and ordered for you only, glancing your way back and forth, tearing his gaze away only when you noticed his eyes on you.

“Eh,” you began, scratching an invisible itch on the back of your hand when the server kept looking at you weirdly until she walked away.

“It’s your wings,” Jeonghan pointed at your large, membranous black wings with the tip of his nose. “They look too real for a Halloween costume.”

You pouted, giving one of your wings a look. “They are real,” you muttered, seemingly offended.

Jeonghan sighed, unable to tear his eyes away from you. I’m glad they are, I’m glad you are real, he wanted to say but the words never came. “Yeah, I know.”

“These are too,” you pointed to the black horns curving back from the crown of your head.

“I know,” Jeonghan muttered, leaning over with a curiosity that he could no longer try to shake off. “Can you try to hide them?” he asked.

Your eyes were windows to your mind because they widened in shock for an instant. “Is that possible?”

Jeonghan realized that he never asked you how you did it, so he nodded and thought of a reply quickly. “Imagine them gone.”

Instinctively, your eyes swam upwards, focusing for half a thought and then your horns dissipated from his vision. “Oh,” you muttered, smiling in small triumph. “Did I do it?”

He smiled with you, unbeknownst that he had not done that in months. “You did it,” he said, his chest finally feeling whole and warm. “Can you try with your wings now?”

“Mmmn,” you frowned, breathing in and then they were gone too. “Oh, that feels weird,” you muttered with a small giggle that sent chills down his spine.

“Two coffees and pancakes with syrup for the young lady,” the server chirped, aloof that you had gotten rid of your horns and wings completely, serving the order and then walking away.

“Thanks,” he muttered, expecting for your first bite.

You were aloof to his scrutiny, sinking your fork into your food and taking one bite. You had the reaction that Jeonghan had secretly been waiting for, your eyes widened, glinting as you released a pleased moan. “Wow,” you muttered, wasting no time and taking another bite.

“Is it good?” Jeonghan whispered, keeping his eyes on you as you ate eagerly.

“So good,” you mumbled, your cheeks stuffed with your favorite dish. “I like this.”

“I’m glad,” Jeonghan replied meaningfully, trying for a second time to see if that brought any memories back. After seeing your reaction, he had no doubt in mind that somehow you were miraculously brought back to him instead, he was full of questions now, and he knew it would not be a straight answer to every single one of them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you raised your eyebrows just as you were about to take another bite from your food. When he remained motionless, you added: “We’re strangers, I know, but I know that look.”

“Eh?” he frowned.

“You know, when someone wants to say something but doesn’t have the guts to,” you shrugged. “I don’t know much about things, but I can be a really good listener, and…” you sneaked a glance at his face and back to your plate. “You seem familiar.”

Jeonghan saw some glimpse of hope, but he remained careful. Nothing could be this good in his life and you coming back to it had to be another joke somehow. “Where do you come from?” he asked.

You pursed your lips, dubious of how to reply but you just went with what you could make out from experience. “I actually don’t know,” you said with an awkward air. “I dug myself out of a hole in the ground.”

Jeonghan showed you a sad smile. “That seems like a weird experience,” he commented just to keep you talking.

And it worked. “Yeah, I guess nobody thought of double-checking to see if I was really dead,” you smiled lightly but sent a quick glance to verify if Jeonghan would understand your dry humour.

“Or maybe you’re just a very deep sleeper.”

That made you laugh, the sound bubbly and airy. It surprised you for a second, but Jeonghan caught that look on your face despite him being overridden with a deep sense of joy when he heard the sound coming out of your mouth.

Jeonghan tried to keep his facial expressions in check, but he was so mesmerized that it showed in his glinting eyes.

“What about you, stranger?” you asked, pushing the empty plate aside and propped one elbow on the table, resting your chin on your hand.

“What about me?” he asked uncomfortably, coughing to shake off the deep wonder he felt.

“Where do you come from?” you asked innocently, shifting slightly on your seat to mask that you were also uncomfortable by the sense of familiarity his face gave you.

“I come from a town very, very far away from here,” he responded.

“Are you not hungry? You didn’t eat,” you said, taking the cup of coffee to your lips to drink one large gulp, you recoiled immediately, putting the cup down and using that hand to cover your mouth.

“What?” Jeonghan asked, frowning upon knowing that reaction. It was a natural instinct to recoil from things that could burn, humans did it. But not demons. Demons could not get burned from a hot coffee, much less feel like recoiling instinctively.

“It’s hot,” you said, lifting your eyes to him in shame as your eyes watered slightly from the stinging pain.

“Did you get burned?” Jeonghan pressed in utter bewilderment.

“Well, yeah, that’s what happens when something is really, really hot!” your eyes widened.

Then you did something that only sent him further down his intrigue, reaching out to grab the sugar to add two spoons to your coffee. You did this naturally and without much thinking. It was as though your memories were lost, but things out of habit remained with you. He wondered then if that was how you had instinctively found him. He wondered how strongly you felt the bond.

“Well?” you asked, stirring your coffee with the spoon with gentleness. When he just raised his eyebrows, you added: “Aren’t you hungry?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, I’m not,” he replied, clasping his hands beneath his chin and propping his elbows on the table. “You?”

You nodded. “I’m full,” you replied contently.

Confusion gripped him again, making him furrow his brow. “You’re not hungry anymore?” he asked, knowing that you could take one full meal, and still be hungry for more. Because no meal could satiate your need to feed on souls.

But you nodded cutely. “Yep, full.”

Another glimpse of hope. Something Jeonghan desperately wanted to cling to. If you could burn yourself, and feel full after one meal… not only that, but you miraculously and quite literally crawled out of your grave.

“Do you remember what it felt like?” Jeonghan whispered, so quiet that for a second he feared you would not be capable of hearing him.

But you raised your eyes. “What?”

“When you woke up in that hole, do you remember what happened before that?”

You shook your head slowly. “Nope,” you pouted once more. “How do you know I don’t remember?” you inquired, tilting your head to one side.

“I uh,” Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, flagging the server to ask for the bill. “I guess you’re familiar too,” he said, showing you a tight smile.

“Mmph,” you looked at him for a long moment, thinking that his eyes, the glint in them made you think of a spark before a fire.

Jeonghan on the other side of the table, was beginning to mortify with the idea that your temporary death might have inched you closer to becoming human. The time you tried to become human was through soul starvation, something that was slowly killing you too. And he thought that maybe you were only able to come back because you remained part-demon. A half-mortal.

Jeonghan also suspected that it was him uttering your name in the middle of the night the detonator for your resurrection if he could even call it that. Summoning a demon was a whole ritual, but you were bound to him and him to you, so everything that he thought he knew about it was uncertain too.

“I guess I should thank you for the food,” you toyed with the edges of the table without looking at him. “But I also don’t know why you’re doing this for me.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he said, realizing that his throat had gone dry with his thinking, he felt breathless, and it was not only because it was hard for him to sit with the fact that you were back, but also because he now had to make a choice.

If he was right and you were half-human now, you were also unaware of the bond. Jeonghan was face to face with the opportunity to finally let you go, and set you free from this vicious cycle. You would not be subjected to a lifetime of misery with him, being chased for being who you are and being with a demon hunter like him.

But there was another problem: he made a promise to you.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Yeah, yes I am,” he cleared his throat once again, he pulled out his wallet and left a bill on the table. “Listen, I’ll show you a place where you can stay for now, alright?”

Before you could answer, he stood up from the table and walked towards the door of the diner, making you follow him outside.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his large steps.

“A place where you could be taken in, a shelter,” he eyed you as you walked beside him.

“Will I see you again?” you looked panicked for a second, fear creeping inside you at the thought of him disappearing.

“No,” he replied shortly, lowering his gaze to the ground as he led you through an alleyway, knowing that the shelter would be just across from it.

Jeonghan could honor his promise to you. He would not walk away from you, he would not let you go. That would make the bond grow peaceful and content, and that would make his suffering end at once.

One undeniable truth was that if he could walk away from you, there would be no danger around you. Sure, you were still half-demon, so that would eventually put a target on your back. But he could keep an eye on you from afar, make sure you’re making the right choices for yourself, as you always have.

That way, maybe you could continue to have the life you always wanted. Maybe, in time, you would find someone who would give you what he never could, maybe that someone would be able to love you the way you deserve.

“Right,” Jeonghan breathed, trying to ease the pain in his chest. “I’ll be going now,” he muttered, slowly turning around and walking down the empty alleyway, every step becoming more and more torturous to him.

You watched him walk, the movement of his body growing weaker as the distance grew. “Hey,” you called, but he did not stop. “Stranger!” you began approaching him, but his steps took him farther from you. “Stop!”

Jeonghan did, breathing raggedly. Breaking a promise was hard, and the pain was nearly lethal. He vaguely remembered you saying something about breaking promises made to demons, but the pain numbed him to his last nerve ending.

You quickly made your way over to him, noticing that his body was shaking uncontrollably. “Hey,” you sighed, gathering yourself.

“What?” Jeonghan forced out, his voice quivering as he tried to stop the tremors. He was growing feverish, but as you closed the distance, he could regain some of his composure.

“I can’t let you go,” you frowned, unable to comprehend why you were so intrigued by him.

Jeonghan laughed dazedly, it was a mad laugh but not at you, but directed towards life and its crazy way to mock him. “You must,” he replied, the feeling coiling in his throat nearly strangled him. “Go to the shelter. They’ll take you in. You could start a life far away from this fucking mess.”

“Start a life?” you parroted again. “I don’t know my name, or who I am. Don’t go. Please?”

Jeonghan searched your eyes one more time. If he could not keep his promise, then at least he would give you back your name before walking away from you once and for all. “Your name…” he choked out your name, falling on his knees from the numbing pain he felt.

“That’s my name?” you whispered, trying to keep him on his feet, but he was growing heavy in your arms. “What’s yours?”

Jeonghan shook his head slowly, his eyes glazing over as he started to lose consciousness. “No,” whispered. “Go, forget me. Forget all this.”

“Please,” you insisted. Grabbing his face as he knelt in front of you, seeing his dark eyes, his soft lips. “I know you. I know I do,” you muttered, kneeling down so you could see him face to face.

He sighed, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it gently against his cheek, closing his eyes briefly. “My name is Yoon Jeonghan,” he muttered, bracing himself for the merciless thrill of the bond snapping in place one more time.

You sucked in a breath, your body tensing as the familiar feeling returned to your bones, coursing through your veins. “Jeonghan,” you breathed.

Jeonghan kept his eyes closed but shuddered as you uttered his name, choking back a sob. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, afraid of opening his eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t walk away from you,” he slurred the words, feeling lightheaded as his forehead fell forward, bumping with yours. “I’m sorry…”

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, your hands cradling his face shifted slightly in their place, feeling his skin.

He held his breath out of fear that you might reject the bond as he did to you many months ago. He wished to keep you there for a second longer, your forehead pressed to his, even if his lucidity waned, verging closer to passing out.

But then, you ran the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip softly, making him pull back slightly, opening his eyes to see your face. Something had changed. In your eyes he found the familiarity in them, you knew him.

He whispered your name carefully, fearful. “Baby?” he breathed, right before his head lolled to one side, his body following it to the ground, where he lost consciousness.

Jeonghan woke up abruptly, disorientated. The ceiling was one he had never seen before and that induced him into a panic that pushed him to sit on the bed where he lay. Lightheaded, he understood after some seconds that he was in a motel room. And that he was completely alone.

Had he been dreaming all this time? He rose from the bed going around it to look for traces of you. But he found nothing. Breathing fitfully, he took his hands to his head, forcing himself to focus.

The door clicked softly and was pushed open cautiously. As you entered the room, you sneaked a look directly at the bed, expecting to find Jeonghan still in his sleep, your gaze swam across the room, falling upon Jeonghan, who stood frozen directly parallel to you.

“Ah, you’re awake,” you chirped, entering the room and closing the door behind you. You had half expected to find the room empty if Jeonghan had woken up alone while you went to grab something to eat.

Jeonghan remained rigid, looking at you as though afraid he might wake up from a dream again. His breathing was ragged, and his vision began to blur.

“I hope you don’t mind I took your wallet,” you said, leaving a paper bag on the chair as you removed the zipper hoodie from your shoulders. “And your hoodie.”

“Wh-what—how…” Jeonghan breathed, shaking with so many emotions at the same time it was hard to focus, it was hard for him to command the muscles of his mouth to demand the answers he needed to know.

You approached him carefully, rubbing your hands together as though anxious. “You passed out last night,” you explained, though that was obvious to him, he did not need you to say that. “And I took you here because I don’t know where you live. And I don’t have a home.”

Jeonghan took in a breath sharply, tears spilling from his eyes as he listened to your voice. He raised one hand slowly, carefully meeting your cheek to make sure you were not an illusion.

You began to worry, your eyebrows pinching together. “Was I gone too long?” you asked meaningfully, understanding that he was in shock.

Jeonghan nodded slowly, the pain in his heart pulsating when you grabbed his hand on your cheek, pressing it against your skin before you wrapped an arm around his torso, so he did the same, hugging you tightly to his body.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed softly, trying to swallow your tears as he sobbed in your arms.

“I missed you,” he muttered, his body wrapping you completely, his face hiding on the curve of your neck, his arms grabbing you tightly to the point the air started to leave your lungs.

Your heart deflated upon hearing the raw sadness in his voice. “I know,” you whispered, feeling the bond deep inside you pulsating, feeling everything he felt during these months of your absence.

“I buried you,” he whispered, shaking uncontrollably, his fingers curled around your clothes, trying to hold onto you to never let you go again.

You caressed his back gently as he shook with sobs. “I’m sorry,” you said, feeling guilty for the pain he endured while you were gone.

Jeonghan grabbed your face, still finding it hard to believe that you were there, and you were fine. “How?” he asked, his voice waning over the emotions coiling in his throat.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, circling his neck with your hands as he moved to press a long kiss on your forehead.

It did not matter, all the explanations in the world would fall short of explaining the relief Jeonghan felt. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” you said, knowing that there would be no resolution to this.

“It’s okay now,” he replied, pressing his forehead on yours.

“Jeonghan,” you muttered, pulling back to see his face before asking: “Tell me what happened, please.”

He went rigid with pain in an instant, but he nodded slowly, moving to sit down on the foot of the bed to avoid growing weak in his stance. You sat beside him, reaching for his hand as though you could not keep your hands to yourself.

“Do you remember the hunters?” he asked, waiting for your confirmation and he proceeded when you nodded silently. “And do you… remember what they did to you?”

Your gaze fell out of focus as you tried to conjure the memory of the moment before your death. The memories were fragments of pain and worry; you remembered some things, and those were enough. “Yes,” you said.

Jeonghan bristled in pain slightly, but continued despite it. “You were gone for three months,” he explained, the pain from your absence still felt recent, the wound still fresh. It was baffling to him that you were now here, as though nothing had happened.

“How am I back?” you asked slowly, furrowing your brow slightly. “What did you do, Jeonghan?”

He understood at once that you were worried about what he could have done for you to return scatheless, or so you thought.

“I…” he lowered his gaze, growing ashamed of himself. “I think I summoned you in my sleep.”

“Is that possible?” you asked. “I thought you needed to do a ritual to summon me.”

 “That’s the thing,” he raised his gaze again, shifting on the bed so he could face you better. “I don’t think that applies to people like us. I didn’t need to do a ritual, I just needed to call for you.”

“So you’re telling me that you did not say my name once for three months?”

Shame returned to his face, nodding silently without looking at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “I just couldn’t—it hurt so much,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing a hand to cup his cheek, forcing his brown eyes to meet yours. “It’s okay,” you showed him a light smile. “You did what you had to do.”

His eyebrows pinched softly. “Can you forgive me?” he whispered.

You sat on your knees beside him, grabbing his face fully with your hands. “There is nothing to forgive, Jeonghan,” you said warmly, pushing his long bangs away from his face. “I’m fine, and I’m here thanks to you.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you down with him to the bed. “I can’t believe that you’re back,” he said with a tiny tone. “I thought I would never see you again.”

Meanwhile, you were still trying to digest the fact that he lived through three months of mourning and guilt, while you just closed your eyes and woke up in a clearing with flowers around you. Confused, but with one thought in mind: follow the thing that pulled you to him.

Jeonghan caressed the side of your face with the back of his fingers, looking at you longingly as the pain inside him deflated slowly. “You’re half human now,” he told you, remembering the look on your face the night before.

You nodded, enjoying the gentle shivers that his touch gave you. “It feels funny,” you giggled slightly. “I’m weaker now.”

Jeonghan mirrored your smile, his fingers trailing down to grab your chin. “I guess I should be careful with you now,” he whispered, meeting your lips with his own.

The kiss ignited every single inch of your skin, drawing out a small moan from you. And for Jeonghan, it felt like he was coming back to life too, his lips searching for yours hungrily, emitting a small grunt into your mouth that only made you want more. 

“Jeonghan,” you breathed when he stopped kissing you, but his lips lingered on yours.

“I missed you,” he replied in kind, his lips brushing against yours softly.

You moved your hand to caress his chest over the black t-shirt he wore. “Do you want to show me?” you mumbled, pressing a tender kiss on his lips.

He moved his hand from your chin to cradle your cheek, looking into your eyes. Jeonghan lost count of the times he wished to be this close to you again, to feel the warmth of your skin, to breathe in your scent. Unable to break away from you, he pressed your body to the mattress, climbing on top of you while kissing your lips hungrily.

You made a muffled sound on his lips, grabbing his face to pull him as close as possible to you. Kissing Jeonghan still felt electrifying, now that you were part-human. You were still able to sense him through the bond. Everything was the same except that your senses were slightly dimmed.

“What’s that?” Jeonghan mumbled between kisses.

“It feels different,” you breathed, grabbing his shoulders, feeling the edge of his collarbone with the pads of your thumbs.

“Different, how?” he asked, his gaze coasting over the features of your pretty face.

“Like the stronger part of me is numb,” you said, showing him a meek smile when the explanation felt ridiculous to you. But your smile faded, the glint in your eyes dimming a little. “I can’t see your soul anymore.”

Jeonghan tensed slightly on top of you. “You could see my soul?”

You nodded slowly, ashamed that you never told him while you were able to see that fiery flame dancing inside him. “Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” he replied in kind, realizing the reason behind the weird looks you would give him, you could see through him quite literally. “I wonder how many other things will be different now,” he said.

You would probably age closer to a normal rate now. You were part-human, you could fill your tummy with human food, and you were at risk of falling sick like humans but the probability of that could be minimal.

“You still like me, right?” you asked with a playful giggle.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, smiling with you. “Unfortunately, yes. I do,” he mumbled, lacing his words with sarcasm.

“How much?” you teased, enjoying that despite you were no longer able to see his soul, he was still an open book to you.

“Shut up,” he said, leaning over to press a tender kiss on your lips, muffling the sound of your giggle. “I love you,” he mumbled.

You closed your eyes, shuddering at the sound of his voice, the bond responding to it like a bolt of lightning shooting through you. “I love you more,” you replied sweetly, still grabbing his face with your hands.

At that, Jeonghan could have sworn that the pain he endured without you was cured. He released a groan into the kiss, his lips diving deeper into yours, only breaking away when your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt, and he helped you take it off.

He followed your body when you sat up on the bed to take your t-shirt off, and he quickly moved to take your jeans and panties just so he could have you wholly naked before him. There was no rush to relieve the pressure growing inside him, he just wanted to appreciate every curve of your body, to leave kisses on every inch of your warm skin.

And you could see that need in his eyes, it was visible how much he missed you. He stood on his knees before you, looking at you for one long moment. Your heart squeezed for him when you realized that, while you were delighted to explore the changes in your now partially human form, he was healing from the grief he felt when you were gone.

“Jeonghan,” you called, snapping him from the train of thoughts reeling in his mind. His eyes met yours. “Come here,” you said, raising your arms to wrap him in them when he pressed his bare chest against yours.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” you replied, parting your legs so he could slot his hips between them. You grabbed his cheek as he left one kiss on yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he gasped, moving his lips to leave a trail of kisses on your jawline, and your throat, humming when he realized that the scent of your skin remained the same. He delighted in the taste of your skin when he ran his tongue on one of your breasts, wrapping his lips around your pebbled nipple to tease it a little, just to hear the sweet sound of your moans.

“Jeonghan,” you sighed, bringing a hand to grab a fistful of his dark hair.

He hummed softly, his breath fanning on your bumpy skin as he moved to lick your other nipple, kissing it and grazing it lightly with his teeth. He pressed his lips on your sternum, resuming his trail of kisses down until he sank between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathed, finding out that despite you were not at full power as you were, you were still very much sensitive. Your skin prickled when his hands slipped beneath your thighs, holding you as he placed the first kiss of many on your inner thigh.

Propping yourself on your elbows to look at him, he raised his eyes too, meeting yours right before licking a generous stripe on your folds. A shudder invaded you, reaching every nerve ending in your body, tearing apart your self-control. Your head lolled back, a pleased sigh escaping your lips as he worked his mouth on your pussy, practically making out with it.

The sensation was near-euphoric. It made your mind go blank. It left you breathless in an instant. You suddenly felt the weight of your absence, as if your body was gently reminding you that you had gone without his touch, even if you had not been aware of it. But a part of you was sure that you never wanted to go another day without his caress.

“Jeonghan,” you called breathily, running your fingers through his long hair, letting his tongue lap between your folds, drinking you in with raw moans.

Your orgasm came fast, faster than you wanted. Your jaw went slack with a loud moan, shuddering hard as he continued eating your pussy out, watching you come undone with lewd gasps until you let your body fall back on the mattress to enjoy the short aftershocks of your climax.

When he climbed back on top of you to kiss your mouth, you moaned when you tased yourself on his lips. Reaching for the belt of his jeans, you swiftly finished undressing him, not hiding how badly you needed him.

“Hey,” he breathed, touching the tip of your nose with his own. Your eyes met his as he lowered his bare body on yours, pressing his chest against yours.

You sighed, skin prickling when you felt his hard dick on your lower tummy as he kissed you again. “Jeonghan,” you moaned into the kiss. “Hurry.”

He obliged, smiling lightly at you before sneaking his hand between your pressed bodies, grabbing his fully hard cock to guide it to your pussy. His eyes swam all over the features of your face, nudging the bulbous head of his cock in your pooling entrance.

Your mouth parted, eyes widening in anticipation when you felt him. “Please,” you mouthed, bracing yourself for the electrifying feeling.

He swallowed hard, starting to sink inside you tortuously slow, delighting himself with the look on your face, the way a gasp left your mouth. You instinctively parted your legs for him, lifting your knees to your chest for him to push inside you to the hilt, and when he did, he released a raw moan.

Jeonghan pulled his hips back, to then push his cock in your walls slowly, as if testing you. He looked at you as he sheathed his cock inside you making you feel every raw inch, the vein in the underside of his shaft, the bulbous cockhead. He breathed out a broken moan, his face contorting in pleasure.

Jeonghan moved his hips, setting a faster pace on top of you when he made sure you had adjusted to the stretch of his cock. The smacking sounds of skin against skin became louder as he quite literally pounded on you, knocking the air out of your lungs with short gasps.

“Jeonghan,” you breathed, squeezing your eyes shut as you swore that you would burst from the pleasure building inside you.

As though on command, he slowed down the rutting of his hips. He breathed fitfully against your lips, leaning his forehead on yours as he kept his thrusts gentle on you, massaging your walls slowly with his cock. “You feel so good,” he whispered, swallowing hard.

“You too,” you sighed, feeling his scarred chest with your palms, keeping your knees up for him to sink his cock deeper inside you. “So good.”

Jeonghan shook slightly, lifting his hips so his cock slipped out of you, paused, and then sheathed himself back inside you, making you feel the length of his cock, every ridge beneath his bulbous cockhead, the warmth of the base of his cock. He smiled when you moaned, gritting your teeth to hold out for him, but pleasure consumed you quickly.

“Baby,” he whispered, framing your head with his arms before leaning to kiss you. “I love you.”

It felt like his dreams came alive to haunt him in real life because for a split second, he was fearful again that this might not be real. But you moaned into the kiss, holding his shoulders with your hands to keep yourself in control. “I love you,” you breathed.

He locked his lips with yours, moaning into the kiss, keeping his thrusts at the same pace that was pushing you to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasped, pinching your eyebrows almost involuntarily.

Jeonghan planted a loving kiss on your cheek. “Let go, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll come after you.”

“Come with me?” you mumbled.

He smiled at you. “We need to be careful now,” he whispered, pushing his lips against yours tenderly.

“I don’t want to,” you said in defiance, caressing the line of his back until your hands reached his ass, palming him as he pushed his cock inside you.

He laughed lightly, ignoring your feeble attempt at trapping him with your hands. “Do you want me to come inside you?”

You nodded eagerly, unable to speak up, keeping yourself angled for his cock massaging your walls. 

Jeonghan knew he had struck a weak point for you. He kissed you again, this time swiftly and chastely. “You wicked thing,” he breathed, pressing another kiss. “Want me to stuff you full of my cum?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, please,” you closed your eyes, inching closer to your orgasm.

He gave you an airy laugh, and you would have paid attention to it if it were not for the merciless shudder consuming you wholly. You cried out loudly as waves of pleasure washed over you, the pleasure so intense that your eyes brimmed with tears. “Jeonghan…”

Jeonghan reached to grab your hands, lacing your fingers with his, and putting them above your head as the pace of his thrusts became faster, harder. He moaned your name, making you think that he was coming with you, stuffing you full of his cum.

But then he pulled out with a raw groan, pushing his forehead against yours as he came on your tummy, ropes of warm cum spilling on your skin, dripping on your sides, trickling down your skin.

Not giving you the opportunity to protest, he kissed you. But you whined impishly in his mouth, making him laugh and press your hands on the pillows with more strength, easily overpowering you.

He stopped kissing you, pausing to look at your face. Once he saw you pouting, he started to laugh, his chest shaking against yours.

You tried to ignore what the sound of his laughter did to you. “You pulled out!” you whined, trying to free your hands from his grasp.

“We don’t know what could happen now that you’re human,” he replied with a dazzling smile.

Maybe he was right, but you just wanted to see that smile, to hear that laugh again so you continued with your childish act. “So what?”

He gave you an airy chuckle. “So what if I get you pregnant? Is that what you want?” he asked, but then something inside him shifted with the realization that it might be something you wanted.

“Maybe,” you replied, your gaze dimming but then you shook your head. “One day. Perhaps. I don’t know.”

He thought of coming up with a quippy response, but the feeling in his chest would not allow him. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he muttered.

After showering, Jeonghan sat at the foot of the bed, half-dressed and drying his long hair with a towel. He raised his eyes as you exited the tiny bathroom of the motel room, approaching him to stand between his parted knees.

“I bought us breakfast. With your money,” you smirked, putting your hands on his shoulders.

Jeonghan’s features broke into a smile. “That sounds great,” he replied, leaving aside the towel and grabbing one of your hands to press a kiss on your knuckles.

Then he gave you a look. One that spoke of months of thinking about you every day, of thinking about what he could have done with you. Life seemed so fragile to him, so fleeting after he lost you, that he kept thinking of the things he would have done differently. And now, you stood before him, a dream come true, the one wish he asked life to grant him.

“What?” you mumbled.

Jeonghan blinked repeatedly when you brought your hand to his forehead, pushing his bangs away. He smiled. “Do you like flowers?” 

› author's note: so this kind of just happened. i am obsessed with these two 😭 and can you guys believe that i wrote my first major character death scene ever because of this series? insane

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[hotshotsxyz]

the taste of iron

(buddie) (2.3k words) (8x01 alternate ending) so i made a joke the other day about what would have happened if buck hadn't pushed gerrard out of the way and then i kept thinking about it and then it wasn't a joke anymore and now we're here content warning: minor character death (but like. it's gerrard) (also blood related to said death)

Gerrard is so fucking loud. The vitriol, the bigotry, that’s what makes Buck angry, but it’s the volume that sets his teeth on edge. How it isn’t driving the rest of them insane, he’ll never understand.

The more he berates, the louder he gets. The construction, just feet away, adds to the cacophony. Buck can feel his eardrums vibrating with every spit-punctuated syllable that flies from Gerrard’s mouth. He needs it to stop, he needs it to—

All at once, three things happen. Gerrard’s hand comes up, finger pointed accusingly at the center of his chest. Buck takes an instinctive step back and stumbles, just enough to throw him off balance. The sound of the saw changes.

The split second it takes for Buck to steady himself is a split second too long.  The saw blade flies across the room and embeds itself in the engine, but not before slicing deep into the tissue of Gerrard’s throat. Arterial blood sprays itself across Buck’s face. For a moment, everything goes quiet. Then, it descends into chaos.

Distantly, Buck hears someone shout his name. A hand grabs his shoulder and—

Firefighter needs help, I repeat—

—spins him around.

“Buck!” It’s Eddie’s voice, but Eddie—

Are you hurt?

—Eddie’s hands are on him, on his face, on his chest. They come away red and slick with blood.

“You’re okay, Buck, look at me, you’re okay.”

Go! Go, go, go go!

Buck blinks. Swallows. He tastes—

Three minutes away, we’re so close.

Eddie’s hands find his face again. “Look at me,” he says, as if Buck could ever look away. “I need you to breathe.”

I need you to hang—I need you to hang on.

Buck takes a breath, then another. There’s blood on his face. Eddie’s hands are on his face. Eddie’s hands are covered in blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood.

There’s a siren, but Eddie’s not in the engine. Eddie’s in front of him, still standing. Eddie—

“Just like that, there you go. With me. In… and out…” His voice is calm, steady, unlabored.

“You’re—” Buck croaks.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and brown and focused. “I’m right here, Buck, keep breathing with me.”

His hand rises of its own accord and finds Eddie’s shoulder. The fabric of his t-shirt is dry and undamaged. Eddie’s brows draw together and a moment later realization seems to dawn.

“I’m okay, Buck,” he says, painfully quiet. “I’m not hurt.”

All at once, the tension that’s been keeping him upright goes. He stumbles, and without Eddie’s steadying grip, he’d probably fall. Buck blinks a few times, and the blurry world around him and Eddie comes back into focus.

Eddie’s turned him away from the engine bay, away from what must be an ocean of blood behind him. Everything he can see looks normal, but it’s unnaturally quiet. Buck lets out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it’s like shattering glass the way it breaks the silence.

Eddie’s face relaxes a fraction. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Buck lets Eddie pull him toward the locker room and guide him down onto the bench. He’s gentle, like Buck might break if he presses just a little bit too hard. He pulls at Buck’s shirt until it comes untucked, then carefully peels it off of him, leaving shivering gooseflesh in his wake.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says, “I promise.”

Buck nods numbly.

Eddie slips into the bathroom, and a moment later Buck hears the sound of running water. He comes back a few seconds later with clean hands and a damp towel.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He kneels and brings the towel to Buck’s cheek. It’s warm; Eddie must’ve waited for the water to heat before wetting it.

With one hand, Eddie drags the towel in soft, short strokes across Buck’s skin. The other cups the back of his head, steadying him. Buck’s eyes flutter closed, and Eddie takes the opportunity to carefully wipe at the blood that flecks his eyelids.

Finally, Buck hears the towel drop wetly to the floor and opens his eyes.

“With me?” Eddie asks. His eyes bore into Buck’s.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Eddie squeezes his knee and stands. “Good,” he says, turning away just long enough to fish a sweatshirt from his locker and hand it to Buck.

“Thanks.” Buck pulls the sweatshirt on and is immediately enveloped by the smell of Eddie’s laundry detergent. It settles a little more of the anxiety that’s dug itself deep into his stomach.

Eddie settles next to him on the bench and brushes their shoulders together. “You want to talk about it?”

Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t. But—

“Is he dead?”

In his peripherals, Buck sees Eddie frown. “Probably,” he says after a long moment.

“Oh.” Buck feels less about that than he thought he might. He’s neither sad nor relieved, though he suspects the apathy will fade with the shock. “Can we go home?”

Eddie huffs a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh on another day. “Yeah. Pretty sure the 118’s not going back into service until B shift gets here.”

“Who’s going to deal with…” Buck trails off.

“Not us,” Eddie says decisively. He stands and grabs both of their bags from the lockers. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

“You hate driving,” Buck says quietly.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up. “Which is why I owe you more rides than you’ll ever cash in on.”

Buck surprises himself with something close to a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he says.

Eddie all but manhandles him into the passenger seat of the truck, lingering just a moment longer than strictly necessary, then jogs over to the driver’s side. He turns the key in the ignition and fiddles with the radio until it lands on a station playing something old and soft.

As far as Buck can tell, it’s not a song he’s heard before, but it’s warm and comfortable all the same. He relaxes into his seat and pulls the sleeves of Eddie’s sweatshirt over his knuckles. It’s loose on him, unlike the majority of Eddie’s clothing, and Buck wonders if he bought it with a day like this in mind.

Eddie taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives and glances over at Buck every time they hit a red light. He’s quiet, though, and Buck is too, grateful for the chance to gather himself in the near silence. By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway, Buck’s starting to feel mostly like a person again.

He follows Eddie inside, and it’d probably feel like any other day if he wasn’t still wearing his uniform pants and boots.

“I’m just gonna…” Buck says, nodding toward Eddie’s bedroom as he toes out of his shoes.

Eddie steps around him and squeezes his elbow. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says, but it feels a little more like, ‘take all the time you need, I’ll still be here’.

Buck’s had a drawer at Eddie’s almost as long as he’s known him. He bypasses that drawer and goes straight for the one that houses Eddie’s most comfortable and threadbare pajamas. He changes into a pair of soft cutoffs, and with his uniform sheds the last of the tension in his shoulders.

He wanders into the kitchen and finds Eddie whisking eggs in a mixing bowl. Wordlessly, Buck sets the table and pours two glasses of orange juice. When he’s done, he sits, knowing exactly what Eddie will say if he offers to help with the food.

A few minutes later, Eddie carries two plates to the table. Breakfast is simple, just scrambled eggs and toast, but Eddie’s gotten good at this; the eggs are beautifully fluffy and the toast is a perfect golden brown.

“Hang on a sec,” Eddie says.

He goes over to the fridge and returns with a new, unopened jar of blueberry preserves, the kind you can only get at the farmer’s market. Buck swallows thickly, suddenly aware of just how many words are caught in his throat.

“Thanks,” he says, the only one of them he thinks will come out painlessly.

Eddie ghosts his hand along Buck’s shoulder then sits in the chair closest to his.

“Eat,” he says softly, and it’s only then that Buck realizes he hasn’t even picked up his fork.

Buck read somewhere, once, that the physical act of chewing was enough to meaningfully lower cortisol levels. He’s not actually sure if it’s true, but sitting here with Eddie, he thinks it might be. It makes sense – you don’t stop to eat until the danger has passed. You eat when you feel safe. Buck feels safe. He spreads blueberry preserves on his toast and eats.

When he’s done, Eddie grabs both of their plates and drops them in the sink. He returns to his chair.

“Do you want to talk or try to get some rest?” he asks after a long moment.

Rest sounds really good, actually, but—“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Buck admits.

“We can watch a movie,” Eddie says, offering him an out.

Buck smiles half-heartedly. “Not sure I can do that, either,” he says.

“Then tell me,” Eddie says, voice full of all the concern he hasn’t expressed yet.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Buck says, finding it to be true as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Eddie looks conflicted for a second, but then his expression steels. “When I got shot. That’s what it reminded you of, right?”

There’s a certain relief in not having to voice it himself. Buck nods.

“Okay,” Eddie says gently.

“For—for a second I wasn’t in the station anymore. It was—I know you don’t really remember anything about that day.” Buck shrugs helplessly.

“I do,” Eddie offers. “Not most of it, I mean, but…” Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face and brushes a thumb along the curve of his cheek.   

Something Buck doesn’t have a name for clenches in his stomach.

“I have this picture of you in my head; I was never quite sure whether or not I dreamed it.”

Buck’s breath catches in his chest.

“Guess not,” Eddie says ruefully, shaking his head.

“What, um—what do you—” Buck presses his lips together as the rest of the question refuses to form in his mouth.

Eddie sighs. “We never really talked about this, did we?”

Buck frowns. “We did,” he says.

Eddie shakes his head. “We talked about me, but you were there, too.”

“I didn’t get shot, Eddie.”

“And I didn’t get struck by lightning.”

Buck looks down at his hands and realizes they’re shaking.

“I know what it feels like to watch you die, Buck,” Eddie says seriously. “And you know how it feels to be covered in my blood.”

“I know how it tastes,” Buck corrects quietly. He glances up in time to see the stricken expression on Eddie’s face.

“What?” he breathes.

“It was the only thing I could taste for weeks.” Eddie’s hands find his. “And then today, I tasted it again.”

“Buck,” Eddie says roughly. Buck’s always liked the way his name sounds on Eddie’s lips. He says it like it means something.

All at once, Buck realizes that he’s been waiting years for permission to talk about this, permission Eddie’s finally given him, and it all comes pouring out.

“I thought you were gonna die, Eds. I—I thought I was going to have the taste of your blood in my mouth for the rest of my life. And I—god, I blamed myself for—for not seeing it coming, or getting to you faster.”

Eddie’s hands tighten around his. “You got there fast enough. You saved me,” he says.

Buck laughs softly. “I know. In my head I know that, but—but it never feels like it.”

“Still?” Eddie asks.

In lieu of a response, Buck takes one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses his fingers to the pulse point in his wrist. His heart beats strong and steady. Buck closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

He blinks them back open. His brow furrows. “For what?”

Eddie’s lips twist painfully. “We should have talked about this a long time ago. I should’ve asked.”

Buck shakes his head. “That’s not on you.”

“I think it might be,” Eddie says.

“You got shot,” Buck says. “You’re allowed to avoid the subject.”

Eddie huffs a soft breath. “I think…” he trails off.

Buck waits, counting every beat of Eddie’s pulse against his fingertips.

“I think I was afraid that if we talked about it, I’d remember.”

“And you didn’t want to,” Buck says. “I get that.”

“It’s all so blurry,” Eddie says, “but I remember the way it hurt. I remember being afraid. But I also—there was a moment, somewhere in all that, when I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

Buck bites his lip and nods.

“And…” Eddie’s jaw tightens for a moment. “And when I think about that, I—that’s when I see you.”

Buck takes a sharp, aching breath.

Eddie watches him for a long moment until something minute shifts in his expression. “Oh,” he says softly.

“What?” Buck asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “I just—I remembered something else.”

“Do you want to…”

“I think I’m gonna need a minute with this one,” Eddie says. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” Buck says.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up into a small smile. “I know.”

“Okay,” Buck says softly. He holds Eddie’s gaze for several seconds, but nothing in it scares him. It’s Eddie, warm, perceptive and sure. “I—I think I might be able to sleep.”

“Good,” Eddie says. He stands, pulling Buck up with him. “Come on.”

And just as he has every other time Eddie’s asked him to, Buck follows.

[chuluoyi]

I'm thinking about Megumi's sister, who went to magic school with him. who was trained by Gojo. who fell in love with Gojo. who dared to confess her feelings to him. and which Satoru rejected, saying that he was too old for her

it doesn't have to be something obscene… so if you like this idea, then please write something!

belong with me

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer is your savior. you know he is far from your reach... but is it so wrong to love him—after the years you spent by his side?

genre/warnings: angst to fluff, a bit slow burn, age gap, one-sided pining, mentions of injury, comfort, teacher!gojo x student!reader

notes: omg omg i actually really like this idea!! i had wanted to write this since you sent this ask but i was struggling with the setting, so i tweaked minor things so that it’ll fit the canon timeline—reader is megumi’s cousin rather than sister.

and *sigh* it somehow turned out into a 4k+ word🤧

general masterlist

What is Gojo Satoru to you?

If asked that, Megumi would definitely say that he owed both of your lives and his sister’s to him. Following the chaos too complicated for you to understand that left the three of you orphaned at the age of six, Gojo Satoru, who were just barely an adult himself then, was the one who stepped in to take all of you in.

But to you, he was more than just that. He was many things. Your savior, mentor, friend, and... you daresay, first love.

And because of that, you would never thought that there’d come a time when your heart was really broken by him.

At first, Gojo Satoru felt like a big brother to you. Megumi was suspicious of him since the very beginning—his skepticism was funny sometimes—but you and Tsumiki weren’t as much.

He easily became your friend. You would laugh for hours to end after he cracked the stupidest or lamest of jokes. He made the fact that curses exist and that you were somehow able to keep them at bay more bearable.

And when Tsumiki fell into her curse… Gojo was there to bring you comfort.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Your hands were shaking as you frantically poked and nudged your kind cousin from her peaceful slumber at the hospital bed. The smell was suffocating—the sight was unbearable. Tsumiki was supposed to be bouncing up and keeping both you and Megumi at bay, not lifelessly lying here like this.

Facing Gojo, who had a tight-lipped expression beside you, you pleaded, "Gojo-sensei—" your glassy eyes welled up, voice choked with tears, "—make her wake up, please..."

And that was the first time he broke your heart. Even the strongest couldn’t lift this cruel curse posed upon your kind sister.

Your throat tightened, choked with painful whimpers as tears flowed uncontrollably. Sudden grief overwhelmed you, making you sway and shake like a leaf. At first, you didn’t notice how a pair of warm hands enveloped you, drawing you close for comfort.

Gojo allowed you to cry against him while you pounded on his chest. Not a word came out of his lips, a telltale sign that he was taking the situation seriously—something you, above anyone else, understood well.

From then on—ever since the tragedy that befell Tsumiki, it seemed like Gojo became even more protective of you but stricter with Megumi. The two of you eventually pursued the path of jujutsu, driven by one wishful thinking in mind—the possibility to break Tsumiki’s curse.

Encountering Gojo became a daily routine when you lived at the dormitory as a first year at Jujutsu High. He frequently dropped by just to greet you, or give you some things he got from his missions.

"Here," Gojo handed you the package of a popular kikufuku store. With that blindfold on and a shit-eating grin split his face, he actually looked so ridiculous. "I got you all their available flavors! Trust me, you'll like them!"

Against your own will, you felt rosy blush spreading across your cheeks. "Oh, thank you... I'll give some to Megumi as well, he's been working hard lately..."

"Ehh?" he pursed his lips. "No, no, no—they're for you! Don't give them to that emo kid!"

There was absolutely nothing significant about how he worded it. You were well aware of that—only a fool wouldn't be.

So why are you so giddy? Hah, why do you feel like you're... special?

"Don't call him emo," you chided, trying to suppress your smile.

"But he is! He's always grouchy with me without reason!"

Throughout your childhood, and now as you were entering adulthood yourself, Gojo's presence in your life still felt like a comforting, warm blanket—a dependable presence you could rely on, someone you could trust completely.

And apparently, someone you had unwittingly given your heart to.

It was a gradual process. You didn't fall for him at first sight or anything of the sort—it took years of being under his protection. Even as you watched him pursue one girl after another from the sidelines, you couldn't deny it—your heart was already his since then.

He always knew what to say, how to cheer you up.

"What's got you so down, huh?" Gojo asked, tousling your hair gently as you slouched. "Is it because of earlier? Don't be so down, you're doing great."

You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling the sting of failure twisting your gut. "I held everyone back, sensei. That's not great at all."

In the last mission, you nearly put Yuji and Nobara's lives in danger. You had taken the initiative to step into the cursed room, and had it not been for Megumi who came to your rescue, any one of you could have sustained significantly more severe injuries.

Gojo offered you a lopsided smile. "You couldn't have known that. Don't beat yourself up so much. The most important thing is that all of you are safe."

"But we might not, all because of my daring ass."

"Look."

He squatted to meet your eye level, and it dawned on you that he wasn't wearing that blindfold. "The fact is that everyone is good. And no, even if Megumi wasn't there, you wouldn't have been doomed. I would have been there, I always have, yeah?"

He was truly a sight, with that sparkling eyes even more so when he smiled unabashedly, voice not as playful as his tone usually was.

"That doesn't make me feel better," you replied, forcing out the words even as you were somewhat awestruck. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm inadequate."

"You're a first year," Gojo pointed out. "Everyone is bound to make mistakes. You just have to learn from them."

"In our line of work, those mistakes can cost us lives." You chewed your lip, looking down. "I—I don't want to be responsible for someone's death."

Your words left Gojo momentarily speechless. His blue eyes blinked several times as though he was taken aback, and you felt even more small—you had just revealed your deepest fear to him.

But suddenly, he laughed right in your face, prompting you to shoot him a glare. Just as you were about to retort, he rested his palm on your head.

"Do you seriously think I will allow that to happen?" Gojo queried with a wide grin and snarky tone. "To you, out of everyone else?"

You gazed at him in a daze, feeling self-conscious with his warm hand on your head. He'd likely done this a hundred times already, but you could never get past the sensation of his gentle touch on your skin. You yearned for more—for him to cradle your face, to caress you, to draw you closer—

“The obvious answer is, I won't,” he declared so surely, exuding unwavering confidence. You blinked, marveling at how his words made your heart soar and your breath catch. “So stop thinking about scary things. I'm here, remember?”

How was there a person who was such a perfect blend of the man of your dreams—smug, but also funny, caring and strong, like Gojo Satoru was?

Was it a sin to harbor these feelings for him? He has always been kind to you, and if you daresay it, fond of you as well. Is there a possibility—

Really, you should have known your boundaries.

"I think..."

And yet your heart screamed, for whatever it's worth—

"...I love you..."

Why couldn't you see that this was doomed right from the start?

"—Gojo-sensei."

You were breathless. Your wildly thumping heart drowned out almost everything else. Your hands were sweaty, and you braved yourself to meet his eyes.

And when you did, you knew heartbreak for the second time—

The way his smile faltered a bit, yet he forced it upwards, perhaps to spare your feelings.

Just as he always has. Ever since he rescued you back then, he would do these silly things so you would feel better.

"I'm flattered, you know?" Gojo gazed at you genially. "But I think—"

"You don't understand." What am I even insisting? "I... like you so much, Gojo-sensei. All this time."

It was supposed to be your final card. Baring everything to him. How grateful you were that he took you in, the kindness he showed you, Megumi and Tsumiki, those sleepless nights after Tsumiki fell into coma that he spent with you, sharing shaved ice on the hottest, cruelest summer...

"You're almost half my age," he stated matter-of-factly, and a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "You're mistaking love for admiration. That's it."

"No! I know how I feel—"

"You should find someone your age," Gojo added while maintaining his smile. "There are good guys out there. Toge is nice—ah, but his cursed technique might be a little troublesome. Yuji is earnest and honest..."

You have never thought that there’d come a time where your heart was really broken by him. But he just did, as he listed all your friends without any regard to your feelings.

Suddenly, a wave of resentment surged within you, prompting you to hiss and cut him off.

"You're always like this," your eyes had started to well up with tears, but you ignored it. His puzzled expression only fueled your frustration.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

You felt ashamed, but in hindsight you should've probably expected this. You didn't have anyone else to blame but yourself. You knew it wasn't fair to lay the blame on Gojo like now—he was merely on the receiving end of the brunt of your heartbreak.

You hated this. You hated yourself. And you couldn't help but to hate him too, despite knowing that you shouldn't.

With that, you dashed away, tucking away your first love to the furthermost part of your heart, swearing that you'd never, ever revisit that chapter of your life again.

Ain't that just the worst thing to hear?

Witnessing your tear-streaked face as you hurried past him left him stunned, rooted in place.

In no way was Gojo Satoru going to romance his own student. You were quite literally his protege and his other protege’s sister. That was simply out of the question. Not that he was the model of propriety, but even he knew that was not right.

And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact whether he did see you as a woman or not, because even if he did, it shouldn’t make a difference.

Right? It won’t change anything.

Because it was how it was supposed to be.

It was probably one of the forms of tantrum—or whatever it was labeled—in the end, it was simply a reaction to not achieving what you wanted.

For years, Gojo had shielded you and Megumi from the Zen’in clan. They were horrible people, and you were eternally grateful that Gojo went to great lengths for you, always swatting them away before they could get close to either of you.

Now that you thought about it, who they really wanted was Megumi. Your cousin held the quintessential Zen'in talent, while your modest Projection Sorcery wasn't particularly rare among the clan. Still, they sought you as well, merely to bolster their prestige with another member.

Normally, you wouldn't think such things. But you weren't in the best state of mind, muddled by your blind heartbreak. It skewed your mindset to one of the extremes.

And then you got this terrifyingly brilliant idea—what if you turned yourself to them? Surely the Zen’in would be sated for a while and stop bugging Megumi.

And you didn’t have to see Gojo as often too.

This went against everything he had done to ensure your safety. But that was the first thing that entered your mind when Zen’in Naoya accosted you by chance.

"We're family," he stated with a smirk, sending a shiver down your spine, an unsettling feeling washing over you. "We wouldn't harm you. Why waste your time being Gojo's little errand girl, huh?"

This was easier, or at least that was the illusion you attempted to persuade yourself with.

Naoya left with you with a meaningful "Think about it."

And the more you thought about it, the more you leaned towards the scenario you had thought to be unimaginable before—leaving Gojo behind.

Two months had passed since then, and it was time for the Kyoto Goodwill Exchange event. Gojo remembered this being one of the most exciting moments during his youth, and he sincerely wished that you would have fun too, even with all that had been going on between you.

He knew he was the one who said Yuji would be good. But he wanted to backtrack when he saw him getting punched by Todo. Nah, Yuji was too stupid, he wouldn’t want that for your match. Must be someone else… who was stronger, better.

And then he was even more beside himself when he saw you with Mechamaru.

Like really? That tin soldier? You could definitely have someone more human. He surely didn’t approve of the sight of you getting friendly with that suspicious scrap of metal!

"Hah," he grumbled to himself. Was it just him or were young boys these days simply too subpar?

Yuji is too risky, after all, he is also Sukuna's vessel. Todo... no way, he can crush you with one hand... Panda is a panda...

As if the roster wasn't bad enough, he was met with the most bewildering sight.

Never would have Gojo thought that someway or another, he would see you with that obnoxious Zen'in spawn who called himself the heir.

Before he could grasp his actions, he stomped right into the midst of where the two of you were—

. . .

You were a step away from agreeing to a whole load of new mess, until wind got knocked out of your lungs as you were harshly yanked from behind—

—and the next thing you knew, a broad back was in front of you.

“What do you want?” a low voice, almost foreign to your ears. But this man before you was Gojo Satoru himself, just way sterner than he usually was.

You were caught off guard by his tight grip on your wrist, his dark gaze fixed on the Naoya.

“Ah, don't be like that, please.” Naoya dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I'm just saying that it's been too long already for you to play the benefactor. She ought to be with the family, where she rightfully belongs."

Gojo seemed to grow more imposing, his sneer deepening. "And by family you mean you?"

The atmosphere grew tense as the exchange between them continued, each word laden with underlying tension.

"Hah, Gojo-sama, you really think you're so high and mighty, don't you? I'll have you know that she, and by extension, the Fushiguro boy, are Zen'ins. No matter how—"

Naoya's words seemed to falter as Gojo's presence intensified. There was this thick electricity in the air, and you almost shuddered when he spat, "Leave."

He couldn't possibly murder another great clan's heir, no matter how much he might have been able to. It would incite a strife that would make his eyes hurt. He just had to scare him off.

And he did. Naoya went with his tail tucked behind him, and that was one problem taken care of. Now Gojo just had one other thing to deal with—

"What were you thinking?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusing, before he even properly faced you. "Since when did you start meeting up with him?"

You hadn’t talked to him ever since your botched confession, but with the way it seemed, he was acting quite normal. It irked you.

"That's hardly your business," you retorted with a hiss.

Your responses seemed to grate him. "Oh? What do you mean it's not?"

"He is right, isn't he? I'm a Zen'in. There is no need for you to go out of your way to keep me under your wing. I can always go back to them."

"Are you—" His frustration was evident and it was quite possibly the first time you saw him direct this at you. "You can't go to them—"

"Sure," you mocked, wrenching your wrist away from his grasp. "I'm telling you, I'm not a child, Gojo-sensei. Please stop telling me what should and I should not do."

"That's not what I'm getting at. I've told you how horrible that place is, your place definitely isn't there."

"And? Where should I be?" you huffed challengingly. "Please, don't tell me that it's your cue to say that it's by your side. Because both of us know it's not."

Gojo didn't know what frustrated him more, the fact that you somehow fell into whatever it was that Naoya had whispered to your ear or how bratty you were being right now. Unwittingly, he let his own pettiness slip out, "You know what? You're being quite childish right now."

He convinced himself that, having practically raised you, he was entitled to have a say in major decisions in your life. He wouldn't let the Zen'in take Megumi away, let alone you.

Your face went scarlet with repressed anger. "So be it then."

With that, you stalked away, and just like how you went away from him the first time, Gojo could only stare at you in silence.

How had your relationship with him turned this sour? Was it the wrong thing to not acknowledge your confession before? He sincerely thought you would realize the implications behind your own words and snap out of that ideal version of him you had in mind—because he knew best that he wasn’t made for this.

Girls your age must want a taste of young love. He understood that, but it couldn’t be with him. It had to be someone else.

He resumed his musings earlier before he found you out with Naoya. And he finally came to a conclusion, that Yuta was the best match. Shame he was still away somewhere in Africa.

When Yuta got back, he would introduce him to you. Yuta was strong, kind, and he wouldn’t hurt you. And it would do him good too to have someone who cares about him.

Gojo Satoru never made flawed judgements. He knew this was the best approach, and yet why was there still this stifling feeling in his gut… at the idea of you being with someone—god forbid—who isn't him?

Not long after, a sinking feeling gnawed at him at the chaotic mess surrounding the Kyoto Goodwill event.

At first Gojo thought it was the standard worry. He chalked it up to all of his students were trapped inside this curtain that specifically forbid him to enter. Naturally, he would worry for his students; after all, he was their teacher.

But when he saw you fell on your knees with what seemed like a stem of cursed flower perched on your chest, he knew it was something else.

You were gasping for breath, clutching your chest in pain while Panda supported your weakened form, and seeing you like that apparently was too much for him. For the first time, Gojo regretted his decision. He shouldn't have pursued the enemy first. He should have gone to you first.

His instinct took over as he swiftly tore you away from Panda’s arms, drawing you close to his chest. His mind went blank, but he forced himself to focus on you, on what was causing you pain. "Y/N, calm down—"

"It hurts—!" you whimpered, digging your nails into his arm tightly, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts so much... I-I..."

For Gojo, this was a form of torture he hadn't realized before. For him, seeing you smile should have been the default, not this sobbing, injured, vulnerable state you were in now.

"I'll take you to Shoko. You'll be fine," he murmured decisively into your ear as you slumped against him. His grip around you tightened, and he repeated, "You'll be fine, I promise."

In the midst of your foggy mind, a realization struck—this was the second time you were ever held in his arms. And much like the first time, you felt an overwhelming sense of security.

Ah, but he had rejected you. You should know your place. You really should because pining on someone who didn't want you wasn't a wise thing to do.

But just this once...

Stupid. You were stupid indeed.

Because you chose to bask in this very short fantasy, fervently wishing that the heavens would grant you this sweet dream of him holding you in his arms like just this for a little longer.

As Gojo quietly observed you resting after being tended by Shoko, numerous thoughts swirled through his mind.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

That was not true. He didn't mean to treat you like a child, because you were indeed not. You were a grown woman now, no longer the crying child consoled by Tsumiki and protected by Megumi as you were back then.

Once, you were this young bud he was meant to nurture into strength, but now despite himself, he saw you more as a woman rather than his protege. He wanted to see you bloom into this pretty girl he had always known you were, always innocent and protected—and a selfish part of himself would add: preferably by himself.

You were so serene. You looked so soft too as you laid there. Gojo thought this wasn't quite right and he couldn't quite get the image of you screaming in pain out of his peripheral thoughts.

Had he truly fallen? This strong urge to protect you, ensure your happiness, see you always smiling—it was as if these emotions were suddenly planted, but immediately establishing themselves like deep-rooted feelings that wouldn't fade away easily.

No, actually... who was he kidding? It was what he had kept to himself for a while now. He just refused to acknowledge these feelings out of the misguided sense of propriety.

It was all he could think of from the moment you passed out until you awakened. He pasted a smile on his face when you opened your eyes to his face.

"Ah, Gojo-sensei..." you mumbled, still disoriented. The way you looked at him was as if you were spooked, to say the least, and it bugged him. "Sorry, how long have I passed out?"

"Just a few hours. Are you okay? Do you still feel the pain?"

"Uh... a bit, but I'm okay..."

Normally, he never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you. This was too obvious. You were uncomfortable with him, and he noticed it.

You also seemed acutely aware of this immensely awkward situation. Having spent the majority of your life with him, you used to be open and at ease around him. But now, it wasn't the same. All because of your reckless confession before.

You spent the first few hours with occasional silence. Eventually, Gojo stepped away for a while, leaving behind a lingering sense of discomfort instilled within you.

You remembered the feeling of being in his arms. Once again, he saved you. The least you could do is to express your gratitude.

I don’t like this. It had been two months already. You had to put an end to this unbearable tension. You couldn't force him to return your feelings—you understood that now. And to make it to the way it used to be, you had to make it clear to Gojo too.

And so when he was back to your room, you braved yourself again. For the second and last time.

"Gojo-sensei," you breathed out, willing your shaky hands at bay. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. Please forget what I said before."

What is this now? Gojo blinked, stopping right in his tracks, somehow hearing how you started with a "sorry" didn't sit well with him.

You continued. "Maybe you are right. I'm grateful for you, I look up to you... for the longest time, I might even have idolized you."

Wait...

"But it isn't love," you said with finality, looking away. "This is me admiring you, for all things you have done for me. And even if it is, I still can't force you to look at me in that way."

Gojo could only gaze at you in silence, a storm raging inside his chest. This was what he had hoped you would realize when you confessed your feelings back then, but now—

"I don't like how... we are now," you gulped. "And it's my fault. So I'm taking it back—"

“No, just—” This wasn’t right. Gojo knows it, but why is he saying this? “Just wait for a minute.”

You started as someone he wanted to protect, along with Megumi and Tsumiki. And then you grew up right in front of his eyes. Someone like you, who had gone through many horrors in life ever since young should have someone dependable and strong who could make you happy.

But then Gojo thought, he didn’t like how others looked at you. Heck, in his eyes, they were inadequate for you, if anything.

“Sensei?” you looked up to him with that doe eyes of yours, and Gojo Satoru felt like this was enough.

To hell with you finding someone your age.

He was strong—the strongest, and if it’s him, he most definitely could protect you far better than anyone.

He could make you laugh—had been for years already, and nothing would stop him now.

He would be damned should you somehow go to the grubby hands of the Zen’in.

“Keep your eyes on me,” his somber voice said then, causing your heart to skip a beat in response.

In short, he was better-suited for you more than anyone else ever could, in every possible aspect.

Apparently he was right. Your place was by his side, after all.

“…because from now, I might start looking at you too.”

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ the first temptation ( one )

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — one kiss is all it takes to set alight a fire that could scorch even the strongest of dragon riders.

౨ৎ stream a little death by the neighbourhood !

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — kissing, targcest, dry humping, grinding, corruption kink?

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

prince jacaerys had always prided himself for many things. his skills with a sword, his loyalty to his mother, his determination. and yet there was one thing that always seemed to shatter through every vow he had ever made.

princess daenys, his only sister, and sweetest light of the targaryen dynasty. she was sunshine souled, completely and utterly targaryen in every way, with her long silvery curls that fell past her waist, her lilac eyes, and her pale moonwashed skin. she was proclaimed by all as the realms' gift. a present from the god’s who treated the small folk with a light and love that left everyone infatuated beneath her kind touch and silver words.

but she penetrated jace’s every thought, he found himself longing for the feel of her lips, of her hands upon his body, running along the lines of his chest, threading along the base of his neck and tugging at his dark curls.

they had shared many secret kisses, the first beneath a falling sun, the sky stained orange and gold on daenys’ name day. she had just turned four and ten, while jace was just passed six and ten, dae had captured him upon the bay at the front of the castle. pretty pink lips stained crimson and eyes blurry, she had pulled him in and placed a delicate kiss to his lips before giggling like a child.

“i wanted you to be my first,” the girl confessed with a giddy smile, sinking into his arms, allowing the young prince to sweep her from her feet and deposit her to her chambers.

“you should not drink so much, sweet sister,” jace scolded lightly, tucking the girl beneath her sheets but daenys only smiled teasingly, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“i would drink gallons of wine if it meant i could kiss you again,” she sang and jace could only smile fondly, pressing a kiss for a forehead before leaving the room and allowing his sister to sleep off the wine.

their second kiss had been much sweeter, unsullied by the taste of grapes, instead the two had been training, jace’s arm slung around daeny’s throat, holding her tightly until she gasped for air and tapped his arm three times.

“you cannot best me,” jacaerys boosted proudly, but his eyes were drawn to his sister's parted lips, heavy breaths falling from them as she clutched at her chest. fingers running across the creamy skin of her breasts as she tried to suck the air back into her lungs.

“fine,” dae sighed in disappointment, “i will not break our deal, i promised you something if you were to best me, brother. what is it you desire?” the words were innocent, a simple play on the deal that they had made, if jace were to win daenys would have to do whatever he requested. she thought he would have her steal one of daemon’s daggers, or run naked along the beach, but instead jace drew her in, so close that she could see the flickers of gold in his deep brown eyes.

“you,” jace said slowly, eyes falling back to the girl's lips, “i desire a kiss from you princess, will you grant that?” he asked, watching as dae sucked in a deep breath before reaching up, cupping jace’s cheek and leaning in, pressing her pretty lips to his.

it was hardly a kiss, a delicate brush of skin on skin before she was pulling back. but jace slung his arms around her hips, drawing her in and kissing her again. kissing her like the sky was falling and she was his solace. daenys gasped against him, fingers slipping to his shoulders, clinging to him as she tried to match his pace.

“brother,” she whispered sheepishly, “is this really what you desire?” she asked him, lips still on his.

“it is all i desire,” jace answered. they kissed until their lips were dry and raw, and the air in their lungs could hardly stand to be deprived much longer.

their last was a tryst of passion, a heated argument, cruel words had been hissed, things thrown and then suddenly they were kissing. daenys’ body pressed against the wall of jacaerys’ chamber, hands tugging harshly at his silky curls, while jace held a bruising grip on the princesses hips.

“you are such a brat sometimes,” jace groaned, slipping his tongue along the seam of daenys’ lips, she parted her lips, shuddering slightly in his hold. he kissed like a man starved, desperate for the taste of her lips, of her tongue.

“you are a fool,” daenys replied, pressing her flush against him.

“a fool?” jace asked, pulling back and trailing kisses down the side of dae’s neck, suckling lightly on her pulse point and making her wine, “a fool for letting you give into your selfish desires, princess,” he said, slowly slipping one of his hands from her hips and instead trailing them over her clothes breasts, daenys gasped, bucking her hips against jace.

“you want this as much as i,” she argued, dragging jace back to her lips, kissing him hotly.

“what i want from you, sweet sister, i cannot have,” jace said, drawing back and looking at her with large blown pupils, “i will not disgrace you in the name of desire,”

“you wish too…” daenys trailed off. the life of a princess was a shielded one, but even now, with her mother sitting upon the iron throne, daenys knew that her greatest asset was her maidenhood. without it she would be disgraced, unwanted by any man who saw himself better, even if he had lost his own long ago. but she longed for jace, longed for him in ways she couldn’t even find the words to describe. a sort of primal urge within her body that called for him.

“dae,” jace whispered, suddenly softer, cupping the girl's cheeks and bringing her gaze to his.

“kiss me,” daenys pleaded, “kiss me until i am sick of it,” she pulled jace back in and he fell against her willingly, “i cannot bare the thought of you not,”

“spoiled girl,” jace said, running his thumb along her swollen lips, “do you even know what it is you ask of me? what you make me feel?” he questioned, pinching her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

“i think i do, for you make me feel things, things i have never felt before,” dae confessed, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. “i wish for you to touch me, to stop the ache between my legs that only blooms when your lips are on mine,” her words drew a sharp groan from jace’s lips, head falling back and revealing his slender throat.

“fuck,” he hissed, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” daenys had never head such profanities fall from his mouth, but then he was wrenching her from the wall and tugging her to his bed, pushing the princess down before descending atop of her. he slipped between her thighs with a poise of elegance, pressing his leg upon daenys’ aching core and pressing until the princess gasped. dressed only in her nightgown she could feel the toned muscles of her brother's thigh pressed to her weeping cunt.

“jace!” the girl cried out, head falling back as jace began to rut against her, it was sloppy, weak thrusts as he ground his cock against the girl's pelvis. aching for relief but trapped beneath a layer of fabric.

“i’ll give you what you wish for, sweet girl,” jace said, tugging down her nightgown and revealing the supple skin of her breasts to the cold air. daenyrs’ whined when the prince grasped her tits in his large hands and squeezed, rolling her nipples between his fingers as her hips rose frantically to meet the stimulation of his leg against her. “it is not deflowering you if i do not enter you,” he reasoned, though he seemed to be telling himself that as he brought his lips back to hers.

the kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, spit staining their chins as they gasped and moaned, lost in the feeling of the other's body against theirs, chasing the relief that was coming.

“jace… i feel,” daenys let out a loud moan as jace began to press himself harder upon the girl, his cock throbbing as he felt himself drawing in.

“it’s okay, sweet girl, let go for me,” jace prompted, sweat slicked forehead pressing atop her own as dae let out a strangled moan, coming for the first time all over the princess clothed thigh. jace was not far behind her, rutting against her hip a few more times before he himself spilled in his trousers with a heavy gasp.

“that was…” daenys struggled to say was jace rolled and lay beside her. “can we do it again sometime?” she asked sweetly and jacaerys laughed loudly, drawing her in for another kiss.

“there are many things we can do, sweet sister,” he promised, already feeling his cock swelling in his breaches.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

౨ৎ hope talks — this was so boring tbh, dw the next chapters will get far more exciting i just wanted to show how it all began 🤭

[astonmartingf]

WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME —

— you ended up on this random stranger's bed and suddenly the next thing you know you're moving in with him to raise a baby

P4 ★ PULLING UP ALL-NIGHTERS

amgf reader is still pregnant 😞 we're getting there so now have fluff, i wrote this immediately after chapter 3 but then got sidetracked with research, and studies n e ways!!! this chapter could've gone three different ways but you're stuck with this. i hope you enjoy reading like always 👍 THE TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!! please no more 😃✋

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

yourusername uploaded a new story

[he's off to the crowd and i'm off to grading papers 🙄]

"The baby is keeping you awake?" You jolt at the short creak of the door hinge in front of you, from the other side of the door you see Jenson.

You place your phone beside you, keeping your excitement at bay hiding the fact of how much you truly missed him. A smile grows in your lips as Jenson enters his now shared home with you, luggage and handbags in tow.

"I thought there was still a race? Why are you here already?" You push your laptop and paperwork to the side, pulling out one of the chairs beside you, gesturing him to come near.

Jenson feigned disappointment, throwing his head back before settling beside you. "And here I thought you two missed me, nonetheless it wasn't like I could do more there when all my thoughts are here. So I flew back after crossing the chequered flag."

You ignore your heart skipping a beat at his statement, attempting to ignore the smile growing into your lips mirroring his. "Enough about me, what about you? It's already late and you're not yet in bed, I doubt you were waiting for me so what did our baby do this time?"

You hold your breath in close proximity to his— arm stretching to the corner of your chair, leaning forward to the bump in your belly. Jenson's head tilts to the side, pressing his ear in an effort to hear the baby from inside. "Are you giving mama a hard time huh? It's time to sleep you know. Why are you moving a lot there?"

It's crazy enough that you're pregnant and raising a baby with him, but it's even crazier how your emotions are barely holding it in.

"I was trying to sleep, but I wasn't sure if it was the baby or the lack of your presence—" you mumble under your breath before continuing, "so I'm just catching up on some of the papers. Have you eaten dinner? I can heat up the dishes I made earlier though, stay seated and I will—"

Before you can get up, Jenson pushes you from your shoulder, keeping you still in your seat. "Stay, I'll warm them myself and keep you company while you work on your papers."

Jenson moves your papers back in front of you with a small smile on his face not missing the small peck in your forehead, before trailing over to the open kitchen in front of where you're seated. "Do you want me to heat some for you?"

You shake your head, burying yourself back in your papers the only difference is now with Jenson present, you can't help but let your eyes linger towards him in the kitchen, taking peeks at his actions no matter how mundane his tasks are.

Soon you found yourself in the rhythm of glancing back and forth to the papers in front of you and to the laptop screen on your left. "I made you tea instead, it might help you sleep."

Taking a seat, Jenson places your mug littered with bunny drawings in front of you and settles with a bowl of your leftover dinner. Sitting in silence you bask in each other's presence, talking here and there about your day. Things were back to normal, just like how it's supposed to be.

★ WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME — @cosmoscoffeee @astral-cowboy @minkyungseokie @ximaginx @thearchieves @scuderiadevils @black-fireproofs @evie-119 @hannannannannannah @evesfile @vi0letblu3s @siannaplmn @myescapefromthislife @ivyvlair @persiar9 @asmoothoperator @vettelsbees @hc-dutch @tallrock35 @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @booksandflowrs @champomiel @jeffs77 @escapism-writer @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @whatislifebutlemons @snapeeballsack @casperlikej @woozarts @hellowgoodbye @lady-bennet @phantomxoxo @regalbanshee @dark-night-sky-99 @formulaal @kqliie @hrts4scarr @vicurious28 @viennakarma — TAGLIST CLOSED ★

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim drake triplet au owns my soul I’m not gonna lie

Have some more ✨

——

Moral and ethical crises aside, having three Robins increased the crime fighting rate exponentially. Crooks could not do even a mildly villainous scheme without being cheerfully beaten down (Lionel), robbed blind (Tim), and having their operations permanently crippled (Archy). At this point, the only reason the Rogues were still alive was because Batman insisted on handling them.

“There’s a weird ship coming into Gotham bay~!” Lionel sang, skipping into the room with an armful of papers. Alfred sedately followed behind him, with a plate full of snacks and milk. He had been passive aggressive in feeding them, muttering something about making up for lost time.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Tim mumbled, grabbing a snack. One hand was doing case work, the other (the hand that grabbed a snack) was doing homework. “Yeah, I clocked that. Some pretty interesting people on it.”

“Once again, Bruce’s old flings haunt our doorstep.” Archy crossed the room and plucked some of the papers off of Lionel.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. People are gonna come flocking to his gates with the fake baby traps again at the end of the social season.” Tim grimaced, remembering all the cheek pinches he endured last season as he headed off anyone that would approach Bruce in his Brucie persona.

“Talia al Ghul is a different kind of issue.”

“I’d take fist fighting her over Mrs. Laughfy’s pinching any day.”

“Gee, I kind of want to meet Talia. She seems kind of badass.” Lionel plopped down onto his seat, dumping the rest of the papers onto the table. “Dick hates her though. Oh, Archy, here’s all of the paperwork from that shady chemical plant.”

“Thanks.” Archy went back to the drawing board, drafting up a complicated corporate scheme that ended up with Drake industries acquiring said shady chemical plants. They were planning the reveal of the Drake triplets soon, but their method had much to be planned.

As a matter of fact…

“As expected,” Archy scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Our best bet is to pretend we were always there.”

“Gaslight, gatekeep, girl-boss!”

The triplets nodded and moved on, Archy forging their birth certificates.

Idle conversation started up again, rotating between their upcoming gaslight gatekeep girl boss masterplan, Talia’s arrival, and whether or not they should dye Jason’s hair bright purple.

“I wonder why she came? She got on the ship with a… kid.” Tim stilled, dawning horror and realization settling upon his face. “No way.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s juicy.” Lionel grinned like a bat fresh out of hell.

“We need more information.” Archy set aside his papers, an indication of intense focus from him.

The door clicked open and three heads swung in unison.

“Hey, guys, what are you…” Dick faltered as three sets of piercing blue eyes locked onto him. “Uh. Something wrong?”

Lionel dove at the door, shutting it closed and locking it.

Tim sprung up and clamped a hand onto Dick’s wrist. His smile became eerily polite. “Dick! We had a couple of questions for you!”

Dick glanced down at him, back at Lionel, and then forward at Archy’s widening grin. He shuddered.

“Am I about to die?” He wondered out loud, resigning himself to his fate as his baby-birds dragged him over to their war table.

——

“You didn’t know about me.”

“…No.”

“But we did!” Damian startled, unsheathing his sword in record time and swinging an arc of deadly blades towards the voice.

“Heya! I’m Robin!”

“I am also Robin.” Damian sidled back and looked up, weapon at the ready. Two identical Robins perched on the flickering street lamps, tilting their heads down at him.

“Hey, Damian. I’m Robin.” The one on the left waves.

“Boys,” his father sighed.

“Can it, B. I can’t believe you did the horizontal tango with Talia, of all people.”

Damian bristled. “You would not be worth the ground mother walks upon, you ingrate!”

The three robins looked at each other and simultaneously looked back at Damian. “Oh, we like you. Yes, you’re about to be our new favorite brother.”

Damian didn’t know whether to lunge at them or be flattered.

“C’mon, Wayne junior. We’ll show you around. Pick an alias, one you can use before we train you to be Robin.”

“I… I will fight you! Robin is mine by right! I am father’s blood son!”

One of the Robins perched on top of the lamp post grinned, half feral as he swung down. “We’d like to see you try, little bird.”

“Stop antagonizing him. Damian, you’ll become Robin eventually, but the only way is to get acknowledged by the former Robins. There’s so much more to becoming Robin than being good at combat like you are.”

“We’ll teach you! Robin lesson number one! Annoy B with competence!” The cheery Robin cheered.

“No.”

They ignored Batman. Damian, after checking his father’s face and not finding anything other than exhaustion, followed their example hesitantly.

“Here, take this grapple.” The serious Robin handed him a grapple and a domino mask. “Second lesson, Robins fly through the sky. We can stalk, sure, but we fly better than anyone else.”

Damian glanced at Batman again, before taking the grapple. In unison, the Robins shot up and away.

“Let’s go, Damian. We shouldn’t leave them unsupervised.”

“They are not competent enough to patrol alone?”

Father grimaced. “They are. But if we leave them be, they’ll take over Gotham in a matter of weeks.”

Damian’s respect towards the Robins went up a couple of notches. He put on the domino and grappled after the Robins.

When they find Joker goons transporting goods, the third Robin (Timothy, he found out later) turned to him and smirked.

“Third lesson? The punishment has to fit the crime. Those are stolen goods. So we rob them blind.”

“Those goods are evidence, Robin,” Father rumbled. Damian tensed, but the Robins remained relaxed.

“Okay, so we don’t touch the evidence, but everything else is fair game. Wallets, keys, lightbulbs.”

“That is incredibly petty,” Damian snapped.

“Well, B said we can’t murder them and maiming someone for stealing is too much. So, petty we must be, to refrain from going off the deep end.”

Damian considered tossing them off the roof, but these infernal fools would probably laugh and return to the roofs like cockroaches.

——

Damian watched the carnage in awe. The Robins were incredibly efficient and effective, drawing terror from their victims even before even commencing a beat down.

“I will accept their guidance,” Damian muttered to himself.

Behind him Batman lowered his head into hands in a moment of weakness. He prayed to allah and his parents for patience… and sanity.

——

“Jaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyysonnnnnnn!”

“Oh, fuck no!” Jason shot out rubber bullets without hesitation. “Fuck off, you demon!”

“But don’t you want to meet our youngest brother?”

Jason lowered his guns, glaring at Lionel’s chirpy face. “What? I’ve already met Tim.”

“Nope! Apparently, Bruce had a kid with, I shit you not, Talia al Ghul!”

Jason holstered his guns, interested in any mockery aimed at Bruce. “No way. You’re lying.”

“Nope! Meet Damian!”

Behind Lionel, Bruce’s mini-me stepped out. “Todd.”

Jason straightened and stepped closer, though noticeably giving Lionel a wide berth. He was never going to let the old man live this down. And from the looks of it, he had allies in the form of the three terrors.

——

Bruce looked down at the cake. He looked back up.

On one hand, his kids were getting along.

On the other hand… he was getting bullied by his kids.

Bruce heard a low chuckle.

Scratch that, he was being unjustly bullied by his kids and Alfred.

In front of the exhausted dad of six (and future dad of so many more), sat a cake with the words “congrats, it’s a boy!” and a picture of Talia.

[roosterforme]

How Could I Forget? | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley met you in a dive bar in Virginia, he just knew he wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about you. Even a year later, he still remembers your laugh and the way you kissed him.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking and swearing

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for the 'Its not the prompt. It's the creator' challenge from @tgm-all4one. Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley flipped through the options in the ancient jukebox while he sipped a cheap beer. This had to be the shittiest bar he'd ever been inside, and that was really saying something, since he was a University of Virginia alumni. 

"Let's see..." he muttered. "Danger Zone? No. Take My Breath Away? Nah. Slow Ride? Absolutely not."

He finally selected Great Balls of Fire and turned to check where his cousins had disappeared off to. But the bar was packed with locals waiting for the fireworks to start over the Chesapeake Bay, and he couldn't spot any of them. 

If they ditched him in this sticky little hellhole on the outskirts of Norfolk, Virginia, he was going to be so pissed. He scanned the bar once more as the song started playing, and his eyes settled on the cutest thing he had seen in a long time. 

You were holding your beer bottle like a microphone and aggressively lip syncing along with Jerry Lee Lewis as his voice blasted from the jukebox. 

Bradley smiled. You were right in the middle of the crowded bar, but nobody else had seemed to notice how you were shimmying along to the song, looking adorable in your own little world. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you mouthed Come on baby, you drive me crazy! Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

When Bradley laughed, you opened your eyes, and they met his immediately. You pressed your lips together, suddenly looking shy at being caught rocking out. You covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment as your eyes went wider while Bradley tried to squeeze through the crowd to get to you. 

He was afraid you were going to try to sneak off, but you didn't. You were just nonchalantly drinking your beer when he reached you. 

"That was quite a performance," he said, and you looked up at him, clearly amused. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, but your smirk said otherwise. 

"That was my song," he said, nodding toward the jukebox.

"What do you mean?" you asked, pressing the bottle to your lips, and drawing Bradley's eyes down to watch the way you took a sip, the bottle lingering on your bottom lip for a beat.

"I selected it. On the jukebox," he grunted, and you laughed at him. 

"No, you didn't. I did."

Bradley scoffed as you squared your shoulders and jutted out your chin in playful defiance. "I chose it like three minutes ago," Bradley insisted. 

"I picked it like five minutes ago!" Your laugh was infectious, and Bradley just wanted to keep it going.

He shook his head solemnly. "It's still my song."

And you shook your head, imitating him. "If anything, it's Jerry Lee Lewis's song."

"Well, I can't argue with that. I did love your cover version though."

"Thanks." God, your smile was adorable. And your lips on that bottle had him thinking some scandalous things about your mouth. 

He cleared his throat. "Are you from Norfolk?"

You sighed deeply. "Unfortunately. You?"

"Virginia Beach."

You crinkled your nose and made a face that had him laughing again. "That might be even worse. You still live there?"

"For now," he replied. "I'm waiting on a new work assignment."

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked, and when Bradley nodded, you coaxed him closer with your finger. Gorgeous. You were so pretty, Bradley was afraid he wouldn't be able to comprehend your words this close to your eyelashes and your mouth. "I escaped. I live in San Diego now."

"Bravo," he whispered, but he knew you could still hear him over the jukebox as it played Slow Ride. "What's it like to escape Virginia? I've only ever read about it in works of fiction. I've never met anyone who actually managed to do it."

You laughed again, and Bradley had to fight the urge to kiss you. He didn't even know your fucking name, but he was dying to feel your lips on his. 

"It wasn't easy," you promised. "Oh, no, my friend, it was not easy. My whole family still lives here, in Norfolk. My brother is in the damn Navy, if you can believe that. What a waste of a career, right?" you said with a massive eye roll. Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but you added, "Today is his birthday. Born on the Fourth of July, in the military, model citizen. I come home for his birthday every year and end up in this shitty bar every year." 

Bradley couldn't contain his smile. "I'm in the Navy."

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, shit. The Navy is the best!" you said brightly. "Oh boy, do I ever wish I had joined the Navy!"

Bradley tipped his head back and laughed harder. "I like you. You're brutally honest," he said, still laughing as you bit your lip, unable to stop smiling. 

"I'm so sorry," you said, trying not to laugh. "Come here. Let me buy you another beer to make up for the fact that you're in the Navy, you poor thing."

Bradley just shook his head, but then you took his hand in yours and gently led him to the bar. And you kept your hand linked with his while you ordered two drinks. But when you started to reach into your pocket to pay, Bradley took both of your hands in his larger one, and you looked up at him, surprised. 

"I've got it," he told you, pulling some cash out of his own pocket. "It's not every day you meet a celebrity."

"Celebrity?" you asked, and he pulled you closer by both hands. 

"You escaped Virginia! Buying you a drink would have to give me good karma! Who knows, maybe I'll even get stationed somewhere new." 

Bradley released your hands when the beers arrived, but you didn't move away from him. "Where do you want to get stationed?" you asked, and Bradley couldn't look away from the curve of your lips as you took the first sip from the bottle. 

"Somewhere warm," he told you. "But I guess I could learn how to brave some cold weather if I had to."

When the woman behind you bumped into you, Bradley could feel the warmth from your body through his clothes. You were that close. He wanted you closer. And then you were snug up against the front of him. "Well, I think you're brave," you told him with wide, teasing eyes.

"Because I'm in the Navy?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer as you shook your head. 

"No," you told him with a soft laugh. "Because you dare to sport a mustache. Almost nobody can pull that off." Now you were giggling as he ran his fingers along his facial hair. 

"I think you're having a lot of fun at my expense here tonight," he told you. "I think you like me."

You were quiet for a few seconds, and Bradley's heart beat a little faster when you said, "I think you like me, too."

"What's not to like?" he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as he ran his fingers along your cheek. "You stole my song. You hate my job. You made fun of my facial hair. And you managed to hijack my escape from this state, because surely the odds of two of us getting out are just too high."

And then you kissed him. Just a soft brush of your lips to his. But it was perfect. And then the fireworks started outside, but you stayed right there with him, your hand coming to rest on his chest. 

Everyone else rushed out to the deck or down along the water to watch the colorful display, even the bartender. But you didn't move an inch, and now Bradley was setting down his beer. This time he kissed you, and you nibbled on his lower lip as your other hand tangled in his hair. Bradley's hands went to your waist, as he tasted you. Beer and something kind of sweet. 

"What's your name?" Bradley asked between kisses, and when you told him, the sound of it echoed through his mind. He whispered it back to you, against your lips as you dragged your fingernails along his scalp. "I'm Bradley."

"Hi, Bradley," you said with a smile between kisses. "I'm sorry I stole your song. And I actually think your mustache is cute."

He was smiling so much against your neck as he kissed you there. "I'm really happy I came to this shitty bar tonight."

"Me too," you gasped as he sucked on you there before returning his lips to yours. These hurried, needy kisses turned more languid as they slowed down. You had pushed Bradley back onto an empty stool, your palms on his splayed thighs as he stroked your neck and face while you kissed. Every little moan and gasp had him coaxing you closer, and then the fireworks ended. The other patrons started trickling back into the bar as your lips nudged his in one final kiss. 

You pulled away from him, smiling and sliding your hands down to his knees. He leaned a little close to your face, ready to beg for one more kiss as he said, "Please, let me have your phone number."

You leaned in and kissed the corner or his lips before you backed away. Bradley was up out of the stool, chasing the warmth of your body, but you shook your head.

"That's not a good idea," you told him, gently pressing your palm to his chest, and it took you a few beats to meet his eyes. "And make you pine for me from afar?" you asked with a soft, teasing smile. "I couldn't live with that."

Bradley whispered your name about a dozen times in a row until your eyes closed. He kissed you softly and said, "I'm pretty sure I'll be doing that anyway. Pining for you."

You looked up at him, gaze darting between his lips and his eyes, almost like you were about to cave. But you shook your head and said, "You'll forget all about me by tomorrow."

Then someone called your name from the other side of the bar and stole your attention from him. And Bradley felt all the perfect flirtation and banter and kisses slipping through his grasp. 

"I need to go," you told him, and you looked so sad. "I hope you escape Virginia."

He nodded slightly, running his thumb across your soft cheek one more time. "I know this sounds weird, but I'm going to miss you."

And then you kissed him again, as if you understood exactly what he meant. And then you were gone. 

-------------------------------

Bradley thought about you a lot. Sometimes he let your name grace his tongue with the sweet feel of it. Sometimes he would daydream about your laugh. But the moment he opened his mail in late August and read the line detailing the location of his new station, a slew of obscenities flew out of his mouth. 

San Diego. He was going to be stationed in San Diego. 

And he had no idea how to reach you. He only knew your first name. But he spent his first few months there hopeful that he would run into you somewhere. So he visited different grocery stores. He took different running tails. He went to the mall across town once. And each time he did one of those things, he felt ridiculous. Stupid. Idiotic. Until he remembered your smile and the way you made him feel so good while also poking fun at him. 

As the months wore on, he went on dates and kissed other girls, but he still thought about you sometimes. When he listened to Jerry Lee Lewis, he pictured you singing into your beer bottle. When he drank a cheap beer, he could almost hear your laugh. 

You had told him that you go to that same shitty bar every year on your brother's birthday. But just as Bradley purchased tickets for a roundtrip flight from San Diego to Norfolk, he realized you probably didn't even remember him. What was he going to do? Walk into that bar and tell you he missed you? You'd look at him like he was insane. Or worse, like you had no fucking clue who he was. 

He thought about not going. Just letting the tickets go to waste. But at the very least, he would be able to visit his cousins for the night. At the very least, he might just be able to see you again, just for a minute. 

----------------------------

You sat at the bar, across the room from your brother. You didn't know why you still bothered to come home for the weekend every year, but here you were. In Norfolk. Again. 

As politely as you could, you turned down the red headed guy who tried to buy you a drink. And you did the same thing to the blond, too. Because now you associated this shithole bar with wavy, sandy brown hair and big, brown puppy eyes. And you weren't about to override your memories from one year ago with some random loser who wanted to buy you a can of Miller Lite. 

You hoped Bradley was currently stationed somewhere warm, near a beach. It always made you smile to picture him with his feet in the sand, drinking a beer.

Your head swiveled to the jukebox as soon as you heard the opening piano chords of Great Balls of Fire playing, but there was just an older woman standing there snapping her fingers. 

Your heart sank a bit as you settled back into your stool and sipped your beer. It would have been too good to be true, and you were ridiculous for even entertaining the thought. But then that raspy voice was behind you, saying your name and making goosebumps break out all across your skin.

When you turned and met his warm eyes, your mouth fell open. He was here. And he looked so handsome and nervous. And your heart was hammering too hard, making it difficult to talk. 

"I don't know if you remember me," he said softly, looking at your face like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. "But-"

"Bradley! How could I forget?" you breathed, and you watched his smile grow. "I was hoping you'd escape Virginia."

He laughed, and you wanted to kiss his mustache again. "I did. And I've been looking for you for ten months."

You leaned in a little closer and grinned. "Well I've been in San Diego."

"Me too," he said, and you tilted your head in question, but he just smiled more. "That's where I've been stationed since September."

"Oh!" you gasped. "You escaped to my city!"

"Mmhmm. And you made me come all the way back to shitty Norfolk, Virginia to find you."

You laughed. "You came back here for me?"

He nodded and stroked his fingers across your cheek just the way you remembered. "Yes. All I could think about was the way you told me you come here every year on this day. So I've been waiting months for the chance to try to see you again."

"That's really romantic," you told him, letting your palm come to rest on his chest. 

He covered it with his as he said, "My full name is Bradley Bradshaw. I live in Coronado, California on Pomona Avenue. And if you're single, I'm not leaving here without your phone number."

You were clamoring off your stool before he even finished talking, and he welcomed you into his arms. And then you kissed him, just like you had a year ago, his body warm and perfect against yours. You told him your full name between kisses, running your fingers through his hair and melting into him. "And yes, you can have my phone number, Bradley Bradshaw." 

He sighed against your cheek. "Even though I've been pining for you from afar?"

You laughed, remembering what you'd told him last year. "Apparently you've been pining for me from nearby. And that just won't do. Because I've thought about you... about the guy with the cute mustache who acted like he owns Jerry Lee Lewis's music catalog. About the only guy I ever kissed in the middle of a dive bar before I even knew his name," you whispered.

And then Bradley was kissing you again before he ended up sitting on the bar stool with you perched on his leg. He gave you his phone so you could save your number for him, and you sat like that until last call, just talking and laughing and occasionally kissing with the promise of more to come. 

When you got back to your parents' house with your brother, your phone illuminated with a new text message. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Meet me in San Diego.

------------------------

They were both pining from afar! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me.

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[thehungergamesrenaissance]

I am so sorry for the person I will become in March. PEOPLE magazine released an excerpt from chapter one of Sunrise on the Reaping. Read below

-

“Happy birthday, Haymitch!” 

The upside of being born on reaping day is that you can sleep late on your birthday. It’s pretty much downhill from there. A day off school hardly compensates for the terror of the name drawing. Even if you survive that, nobody feels like having cake after watching two kids being hauled off to the Capitol for slaughter. I roll over and pull the sheet over my head. 

“Happy birthday!” My 10-year-old brother, Sid, gives my shoulder a shake. “You said be your rooster. You said you wanted to get to the woods at daylight.” 

It’s true. I’m hoping to finish my work before the ceremony so I can devote the afternoon to the two things I love best — wasting time and being with my girl, Lenore Dove. My ma makes indulging in either of these a challenge, since she regularly announces that no job is too hard or dirty or tricky for me, and even the poorest people can scrape up a few pennies to dump their misery on somebody else. But given the dual occasions of the day, I think she’ll allow for a bit of freedom as long as my work is done. It’s the Gamemakers who might ruin my plans. 

“Haymitch!” wails Sid. “The sun’s coming up!” 

“All right, all right. I’m up, too.” I roll straight off the mattress onto the floor and pull on a pair of shorts made from a government-issued flour sack. The words "courtesy of the Capitol" end up stamped across my butt. My ma wastes nothing. Widowed young when my pa died in a coal mine fire, she’s raised Sid and me by taking in laundry and making every bit of anything count. The hardwood ashes in the fire pit are saved for lye soap. Eggshells get ground up to fertilize the garden. Someday these shorts will be torn into strips and woven into a rug. 

I finish dressing and toss Sid back in his bed, where he burrows right down in the patchwork quilt. In the kitchen, I grab a piece of corn bread, an upgrade for my birthday instead of the gritty, dark stuff made from the Capitol flour. Out back, my ma’s already stirring a steaming kettle of clothes with a stick, her muscles straining as she flips a pair of miner’s overalls. She’s only 35, but life’s sorrows have already cut lines into her face, like they do. 

Ma catches sight of me in the doorway and wipes her brow. “Happy 16th. Sauce on the stove.” 

“Thanks, Ma.” I find a saucepan of stewed plums and scoop some on my bread before I head out. I found these in the woods the other day, but it’s a nice surprise to have them all hot and sugared. “Need you to fill the cistern today,” Ma says as I pass. 

We’ve got cold running water, only it comes out in a thin stream that would take an age to fill a bucket. There’s a special barrel of pure rainwater she charges extra for because the clothes come out softer, but she uses our well water for most of the laundry. What with pumping and hauling, filling the cistern’s a two-hour job even with Sid’s help. 

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” I ask. 

“I’m running low and I’ve got a mountain of wash to do,” she answers. 

"This afternoon, then,” I say, trying to hide my frustration. If the reaping’s done by one, and assuming we’re not part of this year’s sacrifice, I can finish the water by three and still see Lenore Dove.

A blanket of mist wraps protectively around the worn, gray houses of the Seam. It would be soothing if it wasn’t for the scattered cries of children being chased in their dreams. In the last few weeks, as the Fiftieth Hunger Games has drawn closer, these sounds have become more frequent, much like the anxious thoughts I work hard to keep at bay. The second Quarter Quell. Twice as many kids. No point in worrying, I tell myself, there’s nothing you can do about it. Like two Hunger Games in one. No way to control the outcome of the reaping or what follows it. So don’t feed the nightmares. Don’t let yourself panic. Don’t give the Capitol that. They’ve taken enough already.

[sarahscribbles]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐕𝐀!𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

𝐀𝐍: 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You hear the sharp sound of Loki’s footsteps on the atrium floor roughly twenty minutes after slipping the note undetected into his coat pocket. 

“You’re too chicken to fuck me in public,” you had scrawled across the yellow TVA issued notepaper, feeling a heat begin to form between your thighs with each stroke of your pen. 

Was he too chicken, though? You aren’t sure what you and Loki are exactly, but heaven help you you’re enjoying the secret trysts in broom cupboards and bathrooms. It’s what spawned the idea to write him the note - the fact that all your hook ups have been in secret away from prying eyes. 

It was meant to do nothing but tease him, to poke the proverbial bear, but with how quickly and forcefully his footsteps are approaching from behind, you fear you may have flown too close to the sun.

Your heart begins to thump wildly in your chest with each step he takes, and you lose track of what the analysts huddled around you are discussing. Vaguely, you catch snippets of their concern over yet another variant causing havoc on the Sacred Timeline, but their voices fade to a faint drone when the familiar scent of cinnamon and patchouli wraps around you. 

Each quiet inhale of his scent sends an addictive giddiness zipping through your veins. You imagine him slipping his hands in his pockets and feeling the sharp edges of the note - had he just stepped through the Time Door on another assignment with Mobius? Or had he only found it while they were already in the field? How long has he been stewing over that single, teasing sentence and assembling, to him, a suitable consequence?

It has you fighting not to squeeze your thighs together where you stand.

“Terribly sorry!” That familiar, smooth voice rolls over you only seconds later, and you feel two firm hands grip your shoulders. “I’m afraid I have a very pressing issue that requires one of the best minds in the TVA! I’ll have her back in a jiffy!”

Before you can even draw breath to object Loki’s fingers are curling possessively around your upper arm. His pace is frantic as he steers you through Chrono Bay Three, so much so that it really does look like the future of the TVA rests on your shoulders. 

You know different, though. 

You know that, beside you, is a man with enough pent up sexual energy to power a small town. 

It’s exhilarating to see what you do to him. From your place at his side, you can see the tense way he’s holding that strong jaw; you can see how his free hand is curled into a half fist, and you can feel the flex of his fingers through the material of your shirt like he’s itching to get his hands on your bare skin. 

Again. 

“So, what’s this pressing issue that requires my brilliant mind?” you tease him as he continues to pull you through the deserted atrium. “Are the threads of time disintegrating as we speak? Has Miss Minutes gone rogue?” 

You swear that the corner of his mouth quirks, just a little bit, and, for a second, all you want to do is make him laugh. 

Loki’s pace doesn’t falter even for a second as he keeps weaving you both through the intricate halls of the TVA, but he turns briefly to flash you that devilish grin. “Do you really wish to do this, darling? After that little stunt you just pulled?”

Something lurches to life in your stomach, but you forcibly will it down. This is all just a little bit of fun, really. A little bit of excitement in the otherwise boring days of being an analyst. What better way to liven things up than with this man with those beautiful green eyes and the…

No.

Not this time. 

You’re, ironically, saved from any further traitorous thoughts by the very subject of them. Loki comes to an almost comical stop beside that ridiculous “minimise chat in the cafeteria please” sign that’s become a favoured inside joke between you and Mobius, in large part due to the weary sigh it garners from Loki. He throws a casual glance at the handful of other agents milling around - none of whom seem remotely interested in either of you - and yanks you through a door with a sign that reads “Authorised Personnel Only.”

Although the corridor he’s pulled you into looks just like every other corridor in the labyrinth of the TVA, you recognise this as one you’re not overly familiar with. Does this one lead to Repairs and Advancement? Or is this the shorter route to the Automat? You aren’t sure. 

What you are sure of is that it isn’t very wide. 

You turn to face Loki as the door snaps shut. Even under the harsh yellow lights running overhead, he still manages to look every inch the handsome god that he is. It’s both infuriating and exhilarating. 

“A stunt?” you whisper with feigned disbelief. “Who would dare to try the God of Mischief?”

Loki takes two steps to the side so he’s standing directly in front of you at what counts as the “other side” of the corridor. One hand is deep in his trouser pocket while the other rises from his side. Between two elegant fingers sits your little note. “Care to explain?”

An impish smile curls across your face in tandem with your heart beginning to thump wildly in your chest. “Oh, that! I meant to slip that to the new Minuteman this morning. You know, the tall one with the blonde hair? Whoops.”

The god in front of you doesn’t smile. Instead, he inhales slowly, deeply, and locks those hypnotising green eyes with yours. “I thought we had addressed this little issue last week? Do I need to put you over my knee again?”

You swallow silently and make a valent effort to ignore the heat that’s rising to a crescendo between your thighs. The last time Loki had held you over his knee you hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for three days. It hadn’t been the first time and you pray it won’t be the last. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Your Highness.” You smirk at him, knowing how much he loves this.

The quirk of his lip is barely perceptible, blink and you would have missed it. He takes two silent steps forward, closing the remaining distance until he’s looming over you. He’s so deliciously close that you could easily get drunk on the scent of him and on the mix of mischief, desire and lust that’s swirling in those pretty green eyes. 

A lavender haze of raw arousal has settled around you like a blanket, twisting tighter and tighter with each second Loki stays silent. His lips are quirked in a half smirk that makes you desperate to know what’s going on in that devilish mind of his, to know what concoction of pleasure and pain he’s cooked up to make you pay for your brattiness. 

It’s foolish, though, to think you’ll ever be able to guess his next move. 

You become overly aware of the wall at your back when he reaches out a thumb and forefinger to grip your chin. It’s a soft touch, but there’s no denying the jolt of electricity that rushes through every vein and pore. 

Because that’s what Loki is; he’s electrifying. 

“On your knees, Agent. Now.” His voice rolls over you low and smooth, but there’s a clear undertone of dominance flowing beneath each word. 

A thrill of excitement shoots along your spine, but it leaves something else in its wake. Something that feels oddly like nerves. 

“Here?” you question him, turning panicked eyes to the rows of doors lining both sides of the corridors. “But…Loki, there are people here!”

Loki answers you with a raising of his brow. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. Perhaps you’re too chicken to be fucked in public?” He throws your own taunt back at you. 

Something in you bristles and you curse your nervous outburst. He has quite enough to hold over your head. “You wish. I do this all the time,” you lie. 

His face is impossible to read. “Then why am I waiting? On your knees.” 

He expects you to obey and the threat of what will happen if you don’t hangs heavily in the air. Normally, you’d want to keep pushing his buttons to see just how far you could push him, your ass be damned, but you’re so completely under his spell that you fall to your knees after only half a second of defiance. 

A satisfied smirk curls across Loki’s face. “There. See how much easier it is when you obey, sweet girl?” he purrs, using those sinfully long fingers to tuck some hair behind your ears. 

“Don’t get used to it,” you shoot back before you can help yourself. 

Loki’s answering laughter is short but genuine. “I wouldn’t be so foolish.” 

His hand curling around your skull is a sign that the talking is over. He holds you there firmly in place while his other hand works at the belt and zipper of his trousers. In several seamless movements, he frees himself from the black boxers he’s wearing underneath, and you feel the slightest pressure on the back of your head as he pushes it forward.

“Open,” Loki orders, curling a hand around his cock and guiding it to your lips. 

They part obediently and he wastes no time in feeding you his cock inch by inch. It’s becoming familiar to you now - the taste of him on your tongue and the musky scent that quickly wraps around you - and yoi’ve done this enough times before to know how much he loves when you run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

As expected, you’re rewarded with a soft moan and the feel of his fingers flexing in your hair. It only serves to embolden you. 

Loki’s eyes drift closed as he savours the warm wetness of your mouth around him, and you take the opportunity to take as much of him as you can into your mouth, refusing to stop until the tip of his cock slips down your throat. With teary eyes you hold it as long as you can until you feel your throat start to convulse with the need for air. Only then do you pull back off him until just the tip rests between your lips. 

“Fuck! You divine creature!” Loki rasps out, curling his hand even tighter in your hair. “Keep going! That’s my good girl.” 

You eagerly obey. 

Ignoring the ache that’s beginning in your knees and the quiet hum of voices from behind several of the doors, you focus your attention solely on getting this man off. You do everything that you know he loves - you swirl your tongue hungrily around his tip and lick the aching length of him until his hand flies out to slam into the wall with a groan. 

“Faster !” he grunts, and when you peer up at him, you see him slowly coming apart piece by piece. 

That beautiful face is contorted in pleasure and several black curls have fallen haphardly around his shoulders. He’s panting and moaning like a whore, causing your eyes to dart frantically back and forth between him and the doors behind.

But it’s no longer fear that’s pumping through your blood. It’s raw, hot arousal. 

Loki won’t last much longer, but just when you begin to drive him towards release, he pulls his cock free from between your lips.  “Enough,” he says huskily. “On your feet.” 

Shakily, and with Loki’s help, you climb to your feet, but you barely have a second to appreciate the relief before his lips crash against yours. His kiss is hungry and dominating and, at the same time his tongue slips into your mouth, a hand is pulling your leg around his waist and pushing the brown material of your skirt around your hips.

“Tell me you were wrong,” he pants, hot and heavy against your lips. “Say it.”

“I…I was wrong,” you say as his skilled hands make short work of your underwear. 

“Yes. You were,” Loki taunts, “and I’m going to show you just how wrong right here in this corridor.”

One long finger begins to circle your clit at the same time the blunt head of his cock presses against your soaked cunt. You’re aching for him - you have been since the last time he had pulled you into Time Theatre Four - but Loki only slides his cock through your wetness.

“Fucking hell!” you whimper, reaching out to grab his shoulder through the thick material of his pea coat. “Loki, enough. Just fuck me, please!” 

You see a flash of white teeth before he rolls his hips, sinking his cock into you in one smooth thrust. It’s been so long since he’s filled you that a shameless moan slips from your lips before you can stop it and echoes down the empty hallway. 

You snap your mouth closed and look to Loki with panicked eyes, but he only gives you that infuriating smirk. “I hope you can be sufficiently quiet, little mouse. We’re in quite the compromising situation.”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, but press down on his ass with your foot to coax him into moving. 

Loki chuckles and thrusts into you once more, forcing you to bite your cheek to stop from crying out. “You do have such a way with words.”

His fingers stay at your clit as he thrusts his cock into you over and over. It’s enough to send you dizzy and you grip his shoulders for dear life, but it’s impossible not to let them drift into his curls. They’re soft and silken between your fingers - like they always are - and you’re rewarded with the same deep groan when you twist them around your finger and tug. 

It’s something you accidentally discovered that night Loki had taken you on top of one of the desks in the library - he enjoys having his hair pulled. It’s a small slice of knowledge that you filed away, and it only made you eager to discover what other filth this man got off on. 

Loki, it seems, is just as kinky as you are. 

“How is it…that you feel better…every time?” he pants and slams into you with such force that you can’t swallow your cry of pleasure. 

“Just part of my charm,” you answer on a single breath, though it’s a breath that’s quickly lost to you as Loki increases the pressure on your swollen clit. 

He builds you up expertly, and the tiny ripples of pleasure that begin to ripple in your core are like no other. Whatever this thing is between you and Loki, it’s ruined you for anyone else. 

Each thrust of his cock has the edge crest ever closer, and every pant and groan that escapes his lips has you clenching down harder around him. 

But it’s right when you feel the first swells of your orgasm that the scraping of chairs begins behind a door only a few feet away. 

You look to Loki wildly, but the asshole only waggles his eyebrows at you. “I’d say you have about two minutes to cum, Agent,” he whispers wickedly in your ear. 

You whine and tug him closer, willing your orgasm to wash over you before the door opens. You’re too pent up, too desperate to be left dangling on the edge today.

“One minute,” Loki taunts, though it’s questionable if he’ll last that long.

Maybe it’s from how relentlessly he’s fucking you and the gloriously filthy way he’s grunting in your ear, or maybe it’s due to the exhilarating thought of being caught fucking this god in an open corridor, but your orgasm tears through you only seconds later, drowning you in a pleasure so intense that you bury your face in Loki’s shoulder to stop from crying out. 

It’s white hot and steals the breath from your lungs. You feel it from the very tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. It’s a neverending tsunami that you would happily drown beneath again and again. 

Loki spills inside you moments later, panting your name and cupping your ass to keep you as close to him as physically possible. It’s a release so blinding that it leaves your ears ringing and your heart hammering in your chest, and you’ve barely come down off your high when your leg falls from Loki’s waist back to the ground. 

The afterglow of release settles around you like a pink cloud. Your chest is heaving as you stand boneless against the wall on shaky legs. It’s beyond you how they’re still supporting you in the wake of a climax so powerful that it’s robbed you of your ability to speak or to form a coherent thought. 

Though you aren’t sure if the feeling of relief is from the explosive orgasm he’s just given you or the fact that you managed to reach it before being caught. 

Your eyes drift lazily to Loki. He’s standing before you infuriatingly proud smirk as he tucks himself away and straightens the brown pea coat that you’ve nearly clawed off his shoulders. It only grows when he reaches out to straighten your skirt down just as a door opens several feet down the corridor. 

He takes a few steps backward to begin melting into the small crowd that emerges from within, but not without sticking his hands in his pockets and giving you a filthy wink. “Until next time, Agent.”

[xavissky]

The meaning of peace

Master of Fate AU | Zayne and his wife discuss their 3 year old daughter

1k, fluff

cw: none, while the child is present no mentions of pregnancy are discussed

Zayne knows he's blessed. He feels it in the fluttering of his heart when his wife walks in the room; when he hears the giggle of their toddler; when he feels the rustle of the sheets against his toes at the crack of dawn while their little girl tugs with all her might at the covers. He knows he's blessed. Yet, there were times he made the mistake of wishing for a little more quiet.

----

Their girl was about the developmental age of a three year old mortal. Deceptively small for a being so clever. For as shy and gentle as she was, especially with creatures like the Hua and Bai, she had exceptionally loud demands. Her fathers bamboo scrolls, his jade pendants, her mother's sashes, Bai's eyebrows. Many things fascinated her. Few things soothed her cries.

Both parents were hopeful when the first stages of her life were peaceful. She slept well, ate well, was quiet and curious. When they thought they'd made it relatively painlessly through that earliest stage of new life, this present stage had proven a challenge - even for a god.

Zayne rubbed his temple while his wife tended to another discipline. Ink splattered all over her face. A simple accident, just moments after a soft moment of family bonding - all practicing calligraphy at once. Even as they attempted to soothe her, she remained unhappy and moody for a while.

"I didn't know toddlers her age knew how to hold grudges." He commented as soon as she'd quieted down. It did pain him to see her go through it, knowing she didn't know better, knowing she didn't mean harm, knowing she didn't know how to handle those emotions she was feeling, knowing it was their job to teach her how. And yet, the only time he'd ever felt this helpless was when he was deciding how to manage his romantic feelings for his wife before they were together.

The woman laughed an exasperated laugh and kissed the girl who was blissfully ignorant now, coloring with handmade chalk.

"She's already forgotten. She'll grow out of it." Another laugh. "I give it five minutes before her next one. She has to get this from you."

Now she reached out to poke her husbands cheek, a cheeky expression on her face.

"Me?"

"Something tells me you were fussy as a child."

"I don't know where you get these delusions."

He sighed and continued to clean up the spill, saving a bit of the paper that she'd so brilliantly decorated with her ink spill. Something about it felt endearing after the frustration wore off.

"Why are you saving that?" his wife interrupted, curious.

Zayne gave her a smirk. "Toddlers aren't the only ones who can hold a grudge. I intend to show her this masterpiece when she's older, then maybe she'll be skilled enough to replace it. Restitution."

"You can't be serious. We have dozens of her actual drawings already."

"Exactly. This one's personal."

In response to his dry humor she only shook her head with a scoff and took out a fresh scroll to attempt to restart the work she'd been writing out before.

For a quiet moment, things were peaceful again.

"I'll try harder to keep her quiet," his wife started again, voice soft and soothing on his ears.

"My life hasn't been quiet ever since you stepped into my life. Tell me, you intend to keep your offspring quieter than you? Do tell."

She crumpled a bit of scrap and tossed it at him in retaliation before setting her calligraphy pen down and opening her mouth to speak again.

"I was thinking of a trip down the mountain. I could take her and show her where I used to live in the woods, we could collect things. You'll have a few days of peace."

Zayne stopped what he was doing. An unexpected pang struck his heart, making his brows furrow together. Had he complained too much? While he'd been mostly playful, mostly, and while it was true that he did wish -for his daughters sake, not just his- for things to be a little more peaceful, the last thing he wanted or needed was a plethora of it. The thought of them both alone traveling away from him made his heart ache, as if already longing for them when they hadn't even left.

Reaching out, he covered one of her hands with his own. Ever since the first time his bare hand had touched the skin on hers, he'd become addicted to her touch. This kind of small intimacy was his favorite no matter how much time had passed. A gentle hand on hand to guide the emotions, secure the heart, and steady the mind.

"You are my peace."

She rose her eyebrows as if in disbelief. He squeezed her hand tighter. "You and her together. Don't take it away from me."

Seeming to understand, she smiled and patted over his hand with her other.

"If you really want to go," He said quietly, thumb stroking over hers, "we'll make it a family trip."

At this her face lit up and she nodded a few times quickly in response. "There's some pretty flowers blooming at this time of year. I think it'll be entertaining to her. We can make a scrap book."

The tone of his bone softened in reply, "If you want to know what pressed flowers look like, we can attempt tonight. There's a beautiful one I'm more interested in lately."

At first there was confusion in her gaze, and then a baffled one accompanying a beautiful shade of red.

"If you mean I still have some training left for today, show me everything, shifu."

Now the red in his complexion made him look away. Perhaps he was too bold. This only drew a laugh from her that also made his heart flutter more, as if the song and sound of it was new each time.

Their girl was already beginning to be fussy again, but he didn't mind pulling her into his arms once more.

"Your mother has quite the imagination," he said, tapping her nose. The daughter sneezed in response drawing laughs from both of them.

He knew he was blessed. His life was louder than ever, but he wouldn't have changed a thing.

[kibbles-bits]

any voxval fics you’d recommend?

Ah, yes, voxval fics... The one ship that finally made me cave and read explicit stuff. I am now numb to everything.

Everything.

I'll only be posting completed fics. Warnings, almost all of these are explicit. A couple also have Angel, you know, suffering.

And please mind the tags.

First off is a couple of favs that I always go back for a reread:

Corrupted Love by DoveFactory (Words: 149,495)

In a moment of blind desperation to one-up Alastor, Vox puts himself in a compromising situation that leaves him worse for wear. His state triggers something in Valentino who decides to change the nature of their relationship.

The title and summary of this is so misleading I thought it was going to be a dark fic but nope. The Vees are a bunch of goobers and Valentino always wins. I would scream about this every time it updated. I love the characterizations and their banter it almost made me forget there's sex in like every chapter. Honestly I wish there was more tags referencing the character/story stuff.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord (Words: 7,634)

Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

This one ends up being so sweet I want to die. passthevoxcord's other fic, Only a Shadow, drives me nuts but its a WIP and hasn't actually gotten to the voxval yet.

choke behind a smile by gloriousmonsters (Words: 19,881)

"I'm not scared by extreme, although I doubt I'll find it interesting. What is it?" Valentino's eyes narrow slyly over his smile. "If you aren't scared, why do you need a warning?" Vox has everything under control in his new business partnership with benefits. His emotions, his unfortunate desires, the little mind games they play. Even Valentino himself. When Val offers an invitation to a special show he's performing, Vox knows it's a dare, and knows he has to take it, show Val that he can't be scared or destabilized. He has no idea of how deep under his skin the show will get.

Everyone's so normal. I love this Valentino. There's another Valvel fic that has the same Valentino I also recommend called bad girls go backstage.

Great Expectations by MarenRose (Words: 11,280)

“It’s his goal. Those three simple words. If he could get to hear them once, could let the reality of their meaning and spoken existence occupy his mind for only a few indiscernible moments, then maybe, Vox could learn to see the appeal of this god forsaken holiday. He might even learn to ‘love’ it too.” Or: Vox hates Valentine’s Days. His prick of a ‘wife’ is just too damn hard to please.

This miiiight have been the fic that made me Lock In on voxval? I'm not sure. It's sweet. Alastor is hilarious.

biting keeps your words at bay by Subedarling (Words: 1,511)

“You can’t hit me,” Valentino says. He’s practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to—you can’t hit me!” Vox sneers, cruel and mocking and hopefully masking the way his heart is breaking apart inside his chest. “Baby, I can do whatever the hell I want.” A decade into their partnership, Vox and Valentino have their first and last physical fight.

This might be the only non-explicit fic in this list. I am all for Val being the worst just because he's Like That. But I will not say no to an implied tragic backstory. I read this one a lot and want to die. Can I draw this. I want to draw this. Oh my god I have free time I can totally draw this...

And my other recs:

Just For The Record by PeppermintWalrus (Words: 13,795)

Vox is thrilled about his new film enterprise with his business partner, ready to build a lucrative empire for the denizens of hell to experience true cinema, in the only genre their depraved minds desire. There’s just one problem that he finds out too late; Valentino has never filmed porn before. Vox decides that some... hands-on teaching, is necessary to save their production.

Yeah you read that right.

a putrid feeling that i've addressed by spoondrifts (Words: 5,162)

They weren’t a couple because Valentino was pathologically noncommittal and Vox simply knew better. He tried the whole romance thing with a certain radio demon a few decades back, and he’d learned his damn lesson. Hell just wasn’t the place for that sort of cutesy bullshit. Also, he was pretty sure that Valentino was straight up incapable of love, which was both par for the course for Vox’s friendships and amazingly convenient—things couldn’t get complicated if there was nothing to complicate in the first place. Or: Full Moon, Vox/Val edition.

Haha I love pain. I lied, this is the second non-explicit fic.

Little Miss Hellion by DoveFactory (Words: 10,657)

Hell’s worst married couple spends a day of family bonding at a beauty pageant doing whatever it takes to make sure their daughter takes home the crown, because failure is never an option for the Vees. Pilot AU where Vox and Valentino are married and Velvette is their adopted daughter.

It's more Vees than voxval but they're married so.

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose (Words: 9,161)

Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Val's attitude in this one is funny and Vox. Yeah. Vox made a mistake.

You Found Me by passthevoxcord (Words: 4,338)

Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Sobbing.

Something Less Than Dishonest by daphnerunning, Galiko (Words: 33,931)

He isn’t expecting the way Valentino walks, for some reason. Maybe it’s the extra limbs. Maybe it’s the wings. Maybe it’s the heels. Vox had skipped briefly through a few of the slut’s movies, for research, and isn’t expecting the way Valentino moves in person to feel so… Different. “…You must be my four o’clock,” he says, standing and offering a hand. Oh, shit, he’s huge. Valentino towers over him, easily would without the stripper heels. Vox is not afraid of heights.

Vox is so offensive in this it loops back around to hilarious.

Red Skies and Valentino by alternatedoom (Words: 86,050)

"Vox and I are special friends, doll. Go give him a kiss," Val says to the boy.

Angel does not have a good time. But the Voxval is nice.

before you go by xoTsundoku (Words: 4,426)

Before Alastor came into their lives, Vox and Valentino were happy. Maybe they still can be.

A Farewell to Ghosts by Accidental_Ducky (Words: 37,149)

"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes. "Hot." "Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"

The only human AU I've liked so far. Love the character interactions. Vox and Val are hilarious.

God I hope I didn't miss any. There's definitely some good WIP ones out there.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 30-33 Commentary

No meta, just reactions! I have less to say about some eps so I'm combining several episodes worth. To make up for my head-emptiness and lack of meta, I've included more pictures lmao. Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 30:

"You really are pitiful." Li Lun waking up thinking of ZYC's words oooh they did that opening line for Li Lun/ZYC lovers (me)

What a homoerotic way to give the Truth Eye

ZYC and ZYZ having their first drink(s) together here, ZYZ and Li Lun having one last game of chess here. Gay ppl will go “I know a place” and take you to a damp cave and a little stone table in the Wilderness

Oof. The apparent inherence of winning/losing in their activity of choice compared to the drinks that took place here between ZYC and ZYZ. Even with a draw, it’s competitive by nature. If Li Lun knew about the three (very intense, very intimate) toasts that came before in this very spot, I wonder how aggrieved he’d feel.

Ah well there goes the date spot /:

I’m so happy to see LZY (Bai Jiu’s actor) get to fight! His fight scenes in MTJY were awesome and he continues to impress here as well. It’s so fun to watch!

………..to revisit my question from previous commentary about when the grievances against Ying Lei will end, the answer is never ;-;

Damn…For ZYC to promise to spare Li Lun after all that Li Lun has put him through specifically and personally. ZYC really fucking loves ZYZ doesn’t he.

I’m so fucked up over Ying Lei’s last words jesus christ.

ZYC sobbing and feeling the fleeting warmth of the rock Ying Lei was just leaning against…when will the world stop taking away his family members??? His brothers???

That scene of everyone looking at Bai Jiu after Ying Lei dissipates. The fact that he's right there. And it’s like they traded one life for another. The two babies of the group. Goddammit.

Do NOT hit me with Bai Jiu’s actor singing “Broken-Tailed Bird” right now oh my god

So like…regarding ZYZ losing his demonic power, does he still count as the most evil demon of ZYC’s time? Can someone ring Ying Long and ask?

ZYC crybaby oh no I can’t believe he’s crying over ZYZ being so weakened aw I love him

My god, Bai Jiu running after Ying Lei and into ZYC’s arms has to be one of my favorite sequences in the whole show. So so good. So so painful. Between this scene, all the flashbacks, and ZYC’s reaction when he died, I’m at least glad the show is spending so much screen time and significance on Ying Lei’s send-off, even if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. We couldn’t even have the whole family reunited for one moment.

Also have you ever seen a man so mother?

No but seriously "Cry if you want...[tears] have to do with our hearts" ZYC my healthy masculinity king!!!

This song fucking hurtssssssssss this cheese (it's buttermilk) hurts everything hurts

I’m glad PSJ gets time and space to react. Her lines about being a mortal and not being needed are so good but also ow!!! And oh WX always knows exactly what to say to her 🥹

I love everything ZYC says to Bai Jiu about each family member (like yeahhh WX is unlucky 😭 and yeaahHH PSJ does need support too) but MAN the way he says ZYZ’s name is so fucking good. The fact that it gets so much emotion across without saying a single word further as he gets interrupted. His voice and his expression both collapsing a little in that moment. Efficiency of acting strikes again.

Is it even possible for ZYC to cherish this little family more?

Yo this dramatic ass lighting on ZYZ and ZYC standing in the doorway. Why y’all need so much drama just to talk? Also oughhhh ZYC’s gaze is a mess looking every which way while discussing WX’s poison. He is such a bad liar (but he looks so good doing it). Is that why they gotta talk about this like ten feet apart so ZYZ can’t see him lying? Lmao

Okay also tho if ZYC's coming around looking like this I am not hearing a single thing he's saying:

They flashed back to the previous time ZYC held his hand out but cut away from ZYZ taking it this time. Is it bc the absolutely unfettered tension between them can’t pass censors anymore? Haha god but that shot of ZYC slowly meeting ZYZ’s eyes from ZYZ’s POV whewwww we don’t got the skinship but their gazes are kind of insane??? TJR in blue contacts is too powerful I'm shaking somebody needs to stop him.

Ep 31:

Trying so hard not to be driven a little crazy by the lapses in continuity in this show (‘: It’s just tonal and costuming stuff that are a little difficult for me to ignore, just the fact that it’s kind of apparent which scenes were filmed in what order based on their costume/styling changes + the sets, and how sometimes the tone from the previous events don’t smoothly carry over because of this. But it's momentary, I just gotta. Power through.

YO the Pei siblings sparring was so cool and for what. They should have had WX spectating instead of staring at nothing in the previous scene (-:

Damn how long has it been since they played the fun music. Also feels kind of wrong without Ying Lei though fml

Awwww Qing Geng I missed her she’s so cute!! I wasn't doing ep commentaries during her arc so I gotta make up for it here. Her actress is so talented and adorable, and her costuming in this show is stunning!! Her lashes!! Her colors!!

THE TREE BRANCHES lmfaooo ZYC what happened to being worried for ZYZ’s weak body?? We really haven't had a moment like this in so long though (':

Well I do like the reason why WZY had a fake out death, that’s pretty clever and narratively sound, but also oh god what in the AOT??? The inner cores hidden in the medicine is some odious fucking work dear lord

I also like that the endgame is coming about from what initially seemed like another small-time case. Of course the evil physician's huge scheme at the end weaponizes plague and poison and medicine.

Ayeee fun that they used the teleporter on WZY instead of as a getaway

Lmfao ZYC just standing there taking a huge hit of the poison smoke. Poor baby doesn’t watch movies and doesn’t know smoke from a bad guy always means some kind of poison

Why does poisoned!ZYC have such an incredible smokey-eye siren look I’m shook

After knowing the poison is about indulging in your greatest wishes, the first moment ZYC woke up and approached ZYZ they sure looked like they were about to indulge in something sorry ignore me

The way this is so similar to ZYZ’s imaginings where he and WX always turn around and look at the camera. The show wants censors to believe they’re looking at ZYZ but we've known all along who the third POV is here

Also why aren’t ZYC’s bro and dad in the wish illusion?

Ohh the eerie instrumental rendition of the OST when ZYC draws his sword is too good. And yesss we were so due for some more crazy dream fuckery like is this real? Is this real??

Ep 32:

The team is spread so thin )-: One man (mountain god) down and a whole town to save and an immortal villain to vanquish.

WZY's eagerness in trying to goad ZYC into killing himself while poisoned is so so sinister goddamn. I love how disturbing it is to slowly realize what he wants without any lines at all

ZYZ shielding ZYC from a huge fucking fireball with just his hand is adorable and sad:

I already normally love Li Lun's whole leaf-swirly entrances and exits but you know I cheered when he deus ex machina-ed his way here!!! With that bgm too!!!

Li Lun came back to accept ZYC into their throuple. He's had some time to think and yeah he's decided ZYC's kinda hot and maybe shouldn't die or else ZYZ will be sad.

):

ZYC's soft and anguished, "Qing Geng" when he realizes she gave him her inner core. That's my bleeding heart hero ;-;

Throuple of the fucking yearrrrrr:

Spoiler for ep 33/34 but—watching Bai Jiu watch the three of them and realize he can't do anything to help here... It would have been dangerous for him to stay, but I wonder if things could have ended differently ):

Ep 33:

Oughhhhh Pei Siheng ))): The cruel fucking poetry of PSJ, the most emotionally closed-off character, having her heart, her brother, made into her armor. And then to lose him once more.

ZYC proving time and again that his heart is entirely boundless and he'll shelter anyone from the rain and he just wants everyone to live:

LI LUN/ZYC LOVERS HOW ARE WE FEELIN'?!?

Did not expect MORE ZYC choking now that they're on the same side but yeah Li Lun is not one to let go of a good thing I get it. I'm screaming but I get it. "I'm giving you half my demonic power" yeah right just admit you like doing this dw Li Lun this is a safe space.

Literally what am I watching and also no don't mind me, keep going. Feral over ZYC dropping his hand and letting it happen.

But lmfao the way Li Lun did not need to be doing all that, like he sends his power out to ZYZ without even making physical contact. He could've just grabbed ZYC by the shoulder.

Can't believe I just keep winning:

ZYC didn't even know what Li Lun was doing putting his arms around him and he just let it happen. That's some next level trust.

Ah goodbye Li Lun, presumably another victim of the "(ex-)villains can't have good endings" brand of censorship

Oof I love that the initial horror after the seeming victory is reserved first for the simple fact that ZYC and ZYZ are separated, that ZYC can't go to him the way he was intending to. Even when it's unclear yet that WZY is still alive, just the wrongness of them being divided this way is so poignant. ZYC has such a helpless look about him when he says ZYZ's name.

Goddammit WZY saw Li Lun choke ZYC and got ideas.

Oh I love the uncertainty of whether the One-Word Spell works on ZYC or not. ZYZ's sudden and intense fear. Also though WZY tries to use ZYC dying as a deterrent for ZYZ blowing up the barrier but he's literally choking the life out of ZYC as we speak

Bai Jiu's completely unrestrained screaming and crying in pain is so brutal to listen to. His scenes go on forever. Also, the choice of having some of his flashbacks be blurred and vague in the background, once again something privately kept for the character

ZYC holding out his hand to ZYZ a third time ;-; The utter relief of being able to reach each other again paralleling that previous horror of separation.

ZYC physically feeling Bai Jiu's death oh god. We do not get a single moment of happiness and victory in this drama everything is bought with pain and returns pain I hate it here.

Also another post-finale thought (spoilers for the end of the drama)—If ZYZ remained in his weakened state, I really am curious if he would have still met the conditions of the prophecy (ZYC being cursed to kill the most evil demon of his time, if the prophecy is indeed conditional like that, of course). If that could have been a technical loophole, did Li Lun giving both of them his power and then ZYC giving ZYZ his as well basically fulfill it again? I mean, logistically speaking, without that extra power, I'm not sure if ZYZ would have been able to trigger the Baize cycle again (or whatever it is he did to save the town). So the show's final tragedy can be traced all the way back to these moments of giving out of love and protection, just as Bai Jiu being in the perfect place for his final sacrifice came about because ZYC, ZYZ, and Li Lun were trying to protect him and get him out of danger. The way love and grief are so helplessly, inevitably intertwined that one begets the other. They were all just trying to save each other.

On that completely painful note, that's 30-33! And it'll be downhill from here for the next one (-:

[misanthropologymajor]

buggin' out (part 2)

plagas!leon x partner!fem!reader

So you've found the President's daughter-- now what?

warnings: parasitic infections, descriptive violence, slow burn, anxious reader, lots of euphemisms for killing, awkwardly written combat, animal death, dog bite, slow building las plagas infections, crossposted on ao3

part one

feedback is appreciated :)

wc: 2.1k

The Merchant greets your trio as you return to the village square. “I ‘ave somethin’ I think you’ll like.” He glints the silver blade of a folding knife toward you. “Could be useful.”

You think for a second before opening the outside pocket of your waist pouch. “Ashley, why don’t we get you this to keep in your boot? Just in case?” You hand the Merchant his asking price before handing Ashley her new steel and juniper navaja, a sturdy antique pocket knife. 

She tucks it into her right boot before brushing an errant cobweb off the hem of her skirt. “Can we take a break?”

“Sorry, we need to keep moving.” Leon walks past the Merchant and enters the town hall. He keeps his hand on his holster as he walks past the flickering flame of the last lit lantern. 

Ashley gives a brief, “Got it.”

You grab her hand to squeeze it briefly as you try to encourage her to keep going. “You should have seen me in Raccoon City. After I got licked in the face by a mutated zombie, I made Leon give me five minutes to cool off. You’re doing better than I was.” 

“Wait, you two were there for Raccoon City? How did you get out?” Ashley nearly stopped dead in her tracks, but you pulled her along with your clasped hands.

“We had some help getting to an underground train below Umbrella’s lab. We made it out with a girl around our age, Claire, and a little girl named Sherry. In the end, we really just got lucky.”

Leon coughs a bit before speaking, “We don’t have time to talk about R.C. If you really wanna know, wait for the chopper.” He wipes the corner of his mouth as he walks past the mantlepiece portrait. 

He continues forward, pushing the door open to reveal the downed bell tower. A man begins climbing through the smashed window of the nearest house. Leon takes aim and shoots him in the head twice before he can fully get outside. An elderly woman in a black bandana shoves his body the rest of the way out of the window frame before climbing through herself.

You shoot the woman just as she finds her footing. Holding the next occupants of the room at bay with shots to the torso before you climb over the most recent corpses. A villager attempts to grapple you. Drawing your leather-handled Bowie knife, you sink it into the soft spot above his clavicle. He drops dead as you return your knife to its sheath. You shoot the final man in the room as Leon helps Ashley through the window. 

You toss a flash grenade into the next room before entering. After shooting one villager lethally, the next two mutate into bladed tentacles. It takes nearly a full clip before the tentacle heads and the other two villagers drop. You look back to Leon and Ashley. Leon’s hair sticks flat to his forehead, and Ashley’s tights have two new snags.

“Let’s keep going. We’ve got to beat this storm.” You shoulder the door open while keeping your gun drawn.  Only two humanoids are in your path, but three mutated dogs scramble between them. Leon shoots at the nearest humanoid as you direct your fire at the dogs, snapping their excessive fangs at you. Ashley waits in the doorway.

As Leon finishes the second humanoid, the last dog manages to evade your fire and leaps to tackle you to the ground. You manage to tuck your head to avoid hitting it on the ground, and it ineffectively tries to bite you through your elbow pads.  Leon pulls it off of you and uses his knife to dispatch the poor mutated canine. As the dog lies limp, you pull yourself up to a seated position, allowing Leon to help you to your feet. 

You check under your elbow pads to ensure that the dog had not been able to cause damage through your protective equipment. Leon grabs your arm to check, as well. 

When you’re cleared, Leon leads off to the pickup location via the farm and stables. You gesture for Ashley to go before you with an over-dramatic hand gesture before finally following. 

One male villager blocks the path forward. Unfortunately for him, he does not see or hear your approach and is facing away. Leon uses his knife to quietly remove him from the situation. He continues his approach to the heavy gate, the final barrier to the farm. Leon’s forearm and shoulders flex as he pushes the door open. 

Quiet voices float through the air over the dilapidated shack you pull Ashley into. Leon continues to slink around the shack. You lean in close and whisper, “Pull out your knife. Only use it if someone tries to grab you. Be careful.” 

As Ashley draws her knife, you walk out with your own gun and knife ready and see an old woman catch sight of Leon. You shoot her in the chest twice as the other villagers move toward the commotion. Ashley clutches her new knife close, yet stays tucked behind you as you fire into the crowd of disgruntled mutant farmers. 

The villagers part to allow a larger bull-masked man to spiral through, propelled by the weight of a large hammer. Leon barely avoids his attack and you reach for the shotgun holstered on your back. You move toward the beast to fire your first shot into his chest. He stumbles, allowing Leon to shoot him, too. Another blast from your shotgun pushes his lifeless body to the ground as Leon uses his own shotgun to kill two smaller villagers in one shot. Ashley squeals at a villager who approaches her but manages to push her knife deep enough into his torso to pause him. His momentary stop allows you to grab him from behind and thrust your own knife into his throat.

As you remove and wipe Ashley’s knife off on your pants, Leon uses his handgun to finish off the last of the villagers in this area.

You return Ashley’s knife while voices approach from the village center. Leon leads you through the next set of gates and onto the suspension bridge. Villagers are approaching from behind and from the path to your right while a distinctly conscious voice rings out. The house directly in front of you, which you had barely even noticed until this point, holds a man you recognize from Leon’s earlier short-term abduction. A large gated fence surrounds the modest home.

“Hey! Over here, come on!” Finding the only option, Leon starts running, shortly followed by Ashley. 

You bring up the rear, and as you run into the house, Leon slams the door closed and barricades it with a large piece of metal. Leon turns on his heel and approaches the mystery man. “You!”

“Hey, listen, about earlier, I–”

“Yeah, about that…” Leon winds up a punch while you consider pulling his arm back. Before you can stop Leon’s attack, the strange man speaks up.

“Hey! I see you found your ‘missing señorita!’” The man looks between both you and Ashley before returning his gaze to Leon.

“This ‘señorita’ has a name, and it’s Ashley. And you are?”

You quickly give your own name before the man can introduce himself.

“Name’s Luis. Encantado.” 

“Great. We all have names.Now then—Who are you? And what're you doing here?”

A crack resounds from where the gate had been. You notice the bookcase near a window across the left side room and run over to push it in front of the window. Leon and Luis move a dresser to hide Ashley in the cavity behind it. A villager breaks through the window between your window and the stairs.

You are nearly done pushing the bookcase in front of the window when Leon shoots right behind you. The villager had gotten much closer than you’d realized, and Leon took him down right before he got the chance to grab you.

“Hordes of them against the three of us. Oh, and let’s not forget– this mob is made up of monsters! You two done warming up? Hope you stretched!” Luis aims his revolver at the window nearest Ashley’s alcove, and you notice a few loose boards in the table behind him. A hammer and several long nails rest on the more stable portion of the table. As Luis and Leon guard the two open windows, you can hear the creaking of wood from the destruction of your bookcase. 

With one foot on a chair and the other on the inside of the table, you begin to prise thick wooden boards from the old table. Leon and Luis kill at least ten villagers as you pull the third board from the table. You grab the boards, hammer, and nails and rush toward Luis’s window. Telling him to switch to the failing bookcase, you hold the board with your torso, the nail with one hand, and use the hammer with your other hand in order to form a more permanent barricade on this window. Luis’s remarks to Leon are drowned out by your repeated hammering and focus on building your barricade. Four more villagers, two being tentacled, are brought down in the time it takes you to get one board fully in place and another partially secured. 

The final nail enters your first barricade, and you shoot a tentacled head before it can stab Leon. You return to the table and pry another board out to give you enough boards for your next barricade. You send Luis to Leon’s window, and Leon takes it upon himself to grab more boards. Using a similar method, you manage to halve the time spent forming a blockade on this second window. 

A crash echoes from upstairs while Leon pulls the final board you need out. Luis rushes up, and Leon gives you the boards before following the Spaniard. The final window blockade is just completed as a dull and deep noise echoes from the middle barricade.

You barely make it up to the landing when another bull-masked man busts through your hard work. “You have to be kidding me! Heads up, one big guy coming from downstairs.”

Before Leon or Luis can heed your warning, a door right behind you slams open. You just barely stop yourself from stabbing Ashley in your shock. “This way, hurry!” Ashley calls to Leon and Luis. 

The door leads to an elevated wooden path. Several villagers pursue you as you rush past a gate. Leon turns his aim to the gin wheel securing the gate, and fires, crushing the nearest villager. The thick log gate blocks the rest. 

Luis leans on the nearest wall to pant as Ashley stumbles into the other wall beside you. She lets out a few deep coughs and a crimson splatter lands on her hand. “What’s happening to me?” You use one arm to hold her shoulders while searching your pack for something to clean her hand with.

Luis walks up and grabs her hand. “Ashley, is this the first time you’ve coughed up blood like this?” She nods.

“You want to start explaining?” Leon’s voice and steps forward hold a threatening undercurrent.

“The cough, the blood, it’s caused by something called a… ‘plaga.’” He pauses, pacing. “Okay, you saw those ‘people,’ right? Well, you have the same thing inside of you. The same thing that made them like that. This, what you’re experiencing, these symptoms, they’re only the beginning.”

“I don’t want to become like them.” At the end of her sentence, Ashley inhaled sharply and began to tremble. You wiped her hand clean with a bandana and scanned her exposed skin for other symptoms. Luis paces away from you, Ashley, and Leon.

“You are, well, lucky. You see, at this early stage, the parasite– the plaga, it is possible to remove it,” Luis paused for a fraction of a second. “With a surgical procedure. All you need is some know-how. And, oh yeah– the right equipment.” With his last sentence, Luis turns on his heel to reveal a jagged scar running diagonally from the middle of his left clavicle to his mid-sternum. 

Unlike you or Ashley, Leon doesn’t make an audible noise of surprise. “Wait, you too?”

Luis releases the front placket of his shirt to address you. “No worries. See, I have a plan. But you’re going to have to trust me.” 

Leon looks between you and Ashley. You barely nod to him, and he more confidently nods to Luis. 

“Great! We’re partners, then.” He begins to stride away. 

“Hey, why are you–” Leon is cut off.

“No time for questions, the clock is ticking.”

“Luis, why are you helping us?” You call through the pouring rain.

“Because it makes me feel better. Let’s leave it at that. I will contact you later.” 

The Spaniard walks into the rain and out of your lines of sight.