#enchanted type of beat

[pr0cyon-lotor]

AU where SJ is a horror movie director and actor. All the movies he makes aren't overly gore filled and they focus on psychological horror (and have an all female cast with very few exceptions because of course). However, all the movies he acts in have him get brutally murdered (it's in his contract).

SY is a horror movie nerd and got hooked on SJ through his acting. He loved the monsters and the creative deaths. The interviews he watched of SJ, he's enamored (in a TOTALLY PLATONIC AND PARASOCIAL WAY) with the way SJ says he's usually the one writing his own death scenes. That led him to find SJ's movies and he was even more hooked.

But SY is also an actor, but he plays love interests in cheesy romance dramas (he did it originally to beat his sister in a bet but it's not a bit anymore). He's charming and sweet with all his co-actors and even amassed his own irl harem. He wishes he could act in horror movies, but he's too well known as the kind pretty boy from the romance genre. And people will most certainly riot if his characters die, so :(

And as cheesy and sappy SY thinks his roles are, SJ is absolutely enamored as well. His guilty pleasure is watching cheesy romance dramas. He loves them in secret and wishes saintly men like SY's characters existed in real life.

Anyway, during an interview with SY, he's asked what genre he likes, and he tells them that he's actually fond of horror. They ask what type of horror and he immediately starts gushing about SJ. About his acting, his genius, his writing, his directing skills, etc. He tells the interviewer that his dream is to either work with or under SJ, but he laments that he always gets rejected for horror roles.

In the distance you here all the woman SY has enchanted wail in unison as they realize they don't have a chance because he likes men.

SJ obviously sees this and doesn't know what to do with the obvious praise. He panics as SY says he wants to work with/under him, and is struck with inspiration (he had writer's block for a long time). And he writes a script with a kind man that gets everyone to love him with a few words that is actually a siren that secretly consumes his admirers (or something IDK I'm uncreative. it doesn't matter it just has to be a monster role that is obviously made for SY)

He refines the script and starts casting. SY hears SJ is looking for roles openly, which is rare because SJ usually has closed castings. So he hurries over and auditions for the main villain, and he gets the role (to no one's surprise).

When they start the filming process, SY has basically enchanted the whole crew and they all agree that SY was the best option. And then one of the scenes where SY reveals himself as evil, and everyone had something awake in them.

The entire time SY is hoping he's doing well so SJ will like him. And in SJ's corner, he's fighting demons to stay professional. Everyone is fighting their battles while SY keeps looking at SJ after each shoot to see if he's doing a good job. But SJ keeps leaving, so obviously he's not. So he tries even harder (causing so much emotional distress in everyone that wants him desperately)

When everything wraps up, SY asks if SJ would be interested in dinner so he can pick his brain. SJ hesitates thinking SY was going to reveal that he too was two-faced like his character. But no, SY genuinely asks him so many questions and looked stary eyed when he answered. SY didn't try anything and they left with SY walking SJ to his car before going to his.

SJ drives home conflicted because apparently a prince charming does exist and he casted him as a murderer in his show/movie. And SY is happy because he thinks he did so well in getting his favorite actor/director to finally like him.

The movie/show releases and everyone also has a violent awakening and want SY in more villain roles.

SY is happy because he can finally be in horror movies. SJ is actively making scripts to just invite SY to act in them (the most productive he's been in a while). SY is over the moon when he gets an invite to act in another of SJ's scripts and puts his all in his characters. He ends up shining so much that even if he was a side character, he'd be a fan favorite.

And eventually he and SJ get invited to play in a movie. SY is excited to act with SJ (he didn't read the script before accepting the role), and SJ is so conflicted because not only does the movie have a kiss scene between their characters but SY kills him. It's like evil, toxic yaoi or something.

SY finally reads his damn script and is having a whole sexuality crisis, but he shuts up because he doesn't want to lose this opportunity (and he doesn't want to offend SJ, who is openly and maliciously gay). The director (Airplane) is doing this for the love of the game and fan service, so he makes them redo scenes over and over again until he liked a shoot.

SY locks in and tries not to think much of it. Then SJ tells him they have to practice the kiss scene because it has to look authentic (Airplane is a tyrant and demands it to be sloppy and crazy and REAL), and suddenly SY is thinking WAY too much about it. They try, SJ tells him he kisses stiff, and that he figured all his romantic main lead roles would make him a better kisser.

SY doesn't know how to say that he uses stage kisses instead of actually kissing his co-actor because he always felt uncomfortable with it, so he settles on saying something accidentally suave. Probably something like "It's different to kiss someone you admire so much".

SJ takes at least 15 points of psychic damage and tells him that they better practice for him to get used to it (excuse to kiss SY).

Then the day of the scene comes and like... I can't think of anything to end this with. Idk they get caught in the moment and have weird sex on set or something and Airplane calls it genius and takes the movie to production.

This optional if you want to write this au. I just don't have a way to end this post :3

[i-heart-armin]

3rd Row, By The Window

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Pairings: Armin Arlert x Fem Reader

Summary: You ask Armin to help you study, with a happy little accident your relationship evolves into more than just friends.

Warnings: Heavy smut, making out, thigh gripping, dry humping, thigh grinding, slight tit play, palming, fingering, PnV sex, virgin! Reader and Armin, desk fucking, soft dom Armin, creampie, use of nicknames (Angel, good girl, slut, etc), slight overstimulation, mating press, size difference, raw sex, aftercare, teasing (from eren the next day).

Word count: 6053

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Sunlight illuminated the golden locks of the boy sitting in the third row, next to the window. His gaze was trained on your professor as the words began to topple over one another, his pen scribbling down any coherent information that escaped his chapped lips. Something you had long given up on, not a soul tried or even liked Mr Haas’ class, except for Armin Arlert, forever the goody too shoes striving to be better than the rest. The type to raise his hand about handing in homework while the rest groan in agony, which safe to say doesn’t make him the most likeable character among your peers. Yet something about him made your heart beat one pace faster, palms clammy, and head light. Which is why today is the day you ask for some ‘help’ with his expertise in tutoring.

With your supplies readily packed within the constraints of your school bag, you anxiously anticipated the minute the clock struck the conclusion of the lesson. Strumming your fingers on the desk you looked up to the worn clock on the wall, never failing to be exactly 1 minute behind the rest. The two hands met and this was your cue to go, you swiftly stood up from your seat, pushing it under the desk before letting your legs mindlessly take you to where Armin was still packing away his materials from class. The confident air you once adorned soon vanished when you saw his head poke up to meet you with those intimidatingly blue eyes.

“Oh hi (name)!” Armin chimed, a bashful smile playing along his rosy lips. You were surprised he even recalled your name, you’ve only ever spoken to him what, 2 maybe 3 times? Averting your gaze from his piercing one to look at the fidgeting of your thumbs, you gained the courage to speak, “Uh hey Armin…” He cocked his head to the side, stepping closer to you after he’d slew his weighted bag over his shoulder. “What um, brings you here to talk to me all of a sudden?” He chuckled. You captured all the air you could manage in one breath, finally regaining your composure to look back into his eyes. “I know this is sort of out of the blue but you’re probably the smartest person in this room, teacher included, and I’m struggling with my studies so if it doesn’t take up too much of your time, I would really appreciate if you could tutor me.” The last morsel of air escaped your lungs and you looked up at him, awaiting an answer.

The corners of his mouth turned up as he made the most enchanting smile, truly something you’d see out of a fantasy, and replied. “Of course, it’s no trouble at all, I'd be honoured to help in any way I can. And I’m not that smart, don’t make my head grow too big.” You prayed he wouldn’t notice the blush that was quickly climbing up your neck, and grinned back at him with a plethora of scenarios racing through your mind. “Thank you so much, Armin, you’re being such a great help.” And under your breath, you murmured, “But you ARE that smart.” If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, however, it was likely he did as his cheeks grew an almost hardly noticeable, pink tinge.

“I’m actually free for the rest of the day, if you want to come to my dorm room. Not that we can’t go to a library or your room it’s just that at this time it would be super busy and I wouldn’t want to intrude in your space.” Armin squeaked, averting his gaze for just a moment before returning. Was this a blessing from god himself? Armin Arlert inviting you into his own room, there was no other explanation for it. “No, that’s totally all fine with me, I agree the library would be too busy, and my room is.. a bit of a mess at the moment.” You tittered, nervously exchanging weight between your two feet like a seesaw. “Well it’s set then, let’s start making our way” Armin smiled as you two walked down to the door leading out of the lecture theatre.

—x—

The corridor felt long, too long, the plain white walls and old grey carpet seemed to stretch into an endless abyss, until Armin halted. You were there. Every muscle in your body was stiff as an 80-year-old, contradicting the lively passion of youth burning in your heart. “(Name), we’re here. (Name)?” Broken from your trance you abruptly twisted your body to face the door looming in front of you. “Are you ok, I know the place could use some work but it’s scholarship-funded so I can’t complain.” Armin awkwardly laughed, “No! No, I mean it’s fine, great even, I’m fine just spacing off haha…” Your eyes darted around, Armin looking at you with a hint of concern behind his gaze.

“Alright, as long as you're fine.” He uttered, opening the door to let you in first, ever the gentleman. So this is what his room looks like, tidy, as expected, navy blue bedding made neatly, a picture of his best friends Eren and Mikasa resting prettily on the bedside table, bookshelves from floor to ceiling, not one spot left unfilled, and a large desk complete with anything you could ever need for schoolwork. Armin to a t. “Wow, your room is so beautifully organised, wish I had that kind of commitment.” You joked, turning to smile back at him, to which he returned the gesture. “Well, I try.” He said smugly.

He strode over to the mahogany desk, pulling out an extra chair from behind for you to perch yourself on. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, if you’re cold you can use my throw blanket, the place doesn’t have heating so it can get a little chilly.” You turned your attention to Armin, holding the fluffy grey blanket in his hand, smiling to yourself you took it gratefully and placed it upon your body, opening your bag to get out your studying supplies. “Thank you, it was feeling a bit nippy in here, won’t you get cold without it though?” Armin slinked around your chair, carefully positioning himself in his own, “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got pants and a jumper on, you’re wearing a skirt so priority should fall to you.”

You nodded in agreement, flipping your textbook to where you were stuck. Armin began to pull out his books, kicking off his shoes as you were reminded to do the same. He watched you, how you swung your legs from the chair, how you tucked your hair behind your ear so as to not get in the way of reading your book, how you would occasionally glance back at him, only to quickly look away with a light dust of pink on your cheeks. You were cute, he had to admit, it was obvious, but in your own unnerved state you ignored how he fidgeted with his hands, how his thigh was subtly bouncing up and down, and how he blushed when you caught him staring. Armin cleared his throat to terminate the silence, “So, um, what was it that you needed help with?”

You explained to Armin the concept you were stuck on, pointing to a practice question. “I just- don’t get how it works, like I know the steps but my brain doesn’t know how to put it into action.” You met Armins’ eyes as he reached over to your hand, shuffling his chair closer so that your thighs may abut at any moment. “Can I?” He asked, glancing at the pen you were holding. “Yeah, sure.” You handed him the instrument, your fingers brushing against each other a second or two longer than what would be considered an accidental graze of the hand. His breath slightly hitched and you raised your head to look at him, however, he had already begun writing on a blank piece of paper nearby.

“Here, (name) I finished this question, let’s go over how to do it.” He placed the paper down next to your book, explaining the question with words you’ve probably never heard in your life, damn that man is smart. It all blurred into one while he was speaking anyway, the way he could talk for hours and you wouldn’t get sick of hearing his sweet voice. He was so close, if you had been cold before you’d done a 180 because with the way your body was overheating you couldn’t help but slide the blanket down your legs to release some of the warmth. Exposing just your upper thighs, as you didn’t have the gall to completely take it off after recently accepting his thoughtful gesture.

Time passed as you followed the same formulaic routine, practise questions, marking, explanation on where you went wrong, where you didn’t. The room now had an orange aura about it as the sun began to take its rest for the day, you’d lost count of what question you were on, your palm rested against your head acting as the lone barrier between you and your heading slamming the desk in exhaustion. You heard the sound of a pen rolling across the desk, and Armin's hand was on your upper thigh. Gripping it, hard. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to do that, I was just trying to reach for the pen before it fell off the desk when I sort of lost my balance, I’m really sorry (name).” Just your luck.

Your face burned a bright red, as did his as he desperately tried to explain himself. But fuck did you want him to do it again. Nothing but spurts of air came out of your mouth, no words could describe what you were feeling, what you wanted him to do to you. The room fell silent for a brief period, and a shaky breath escaped your lungs. “I’m so so sorry, I can leave if you need me to, although this is my room so- um- I don’t know…”

You jerked your head up, looking at Armin as he thrashed about in his chair, searching for a solution that he wouldn’t be able to find in his flustered state.

“Armin calm down, I don’t mind, you didn’t try to make me feel uncomfortable on purpose or anything!” You said, grabbing a hold of his strong shoulders and gazing deep into his azure eyes. He sat still, exhaling in relief. “God I thought I screwed it up with you, you had me panicking when you weren’t responding.” He chuckled, “It’s all good Armin, stop overreacting you only touched my thigh, there are worse places.” You smirked, “But I’d probably like you touching me there more…” you said in the faintest voice, thinking someone as quick-witted and observant as he wouldn’t notice. His jaw dropped in shock and his back straightened upright as electricity coursed through his nervous system.

“Did you.. mean that?” You slowly turned your head back around in horror, no way he fucking heard that, the window was close by may as well take a dive off the 3rd floor. “H-huh?” You tried to play it dumb, nobody here is being fooled by that, not even yourself. Armin took a breath before glancing to the side and back at you, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he almost choked on his words. “I could be completely off base here but, if you meant what you said, then I guess- I wouldn’t, uh, mind touching…” he said, his voice barely a whisper by the last word. You sat there, dumbfounded. It must be a dream.

“I- uh, yes?” Armin moved closer, gently placing his hand on top of yours, “Don’t feel pressured we can go back to studying if it was just a sarcastic remark.” Your heart was beating a thousand times per minute, and any oxygen passing through your lungs vanished in an instant, this couldn’t be happening, could it? “No, I meant it, really, if you still wanna…” His hand tenderly trailed from your own up your arm and to your waist, pulling you closer into his embrace. The blanket that provided you warmth slipped off your legs entirely to be long forgotten on the floor. His veiny hands delicately tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, as he leaned in and whispered, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, just say the word alright?” His body heat radiated against your frame, causing you to let out small pants as his fingers leisurely traced up and down your sides.

“Kiss.. please.” You said breathily. Armin pulled back, you could see a certain hunger in his eyes before his plush lips met your own, he was intense, yet docile, taking such care in pleasing you, beckoning to your every wish and desire. “You're so perfect, so sweet for me.” He said between kisses, your lips entwined with each other, neither of you eager to stop anytime soon. He brought his other hand to rest behind your neck, lightly grasping your hair to pull you deeper into the kiss. The hand that was around your waist slithered down to the back of your thigh as he used it as leverage to lift you onto his desk. You gasped at the sudden movement, allowing Armin to intrude his tongue into your mouth, as his hand once again seized your waist.

“Mh!” You moaned into his mouth, as he slid his surprisingly muscular thigh between your legs, pressing against where you needed him the most. You grasped at anything behind you to stabilise yourself, the contact making your body go limp, so long for the various papers and stationary that toppled off the desk in your wake. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, a gasp escaped your lips, breaking the kiss while he moved his thigh up and down, rubbing the thick material of his pants on your clothed pussy. “Be a good girl and use it, ok?” Armin purred into your ear, his lips making their way from your jaw, down to your neck, and stopping at your collarbone, marking them with maroon-coloured blemishes. As per his instructions, you began to rock yourself on his leg, hands clawing at the fabric of his freshly ironed jumper, leaving wrinkles in the fabric as it bunched up.

He took clutch of your waist, you could feel his fingertips softly guiding your hips to arch forward and backward in a fluid motion. The friction of his rough jeans was too much to handle, making your clit throb incessantly while small whimpers slipped off the tip of your tongue. Your legs desperately suffocated his own as you rocked yourself at a faster pace. To which Armin promptly shoved his leg further into your core, causing the desk to shake and miscellaneous objects to fall from the cliff as he spread your legs out once again. “You’re doing so good, keep going. Tell me where to touch you next.” All you could manage was a barely audible “Ok”, too caught up in the pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

All of a sudden he stopped, his leg halting as he lifted his head from your body, hair messy, pupils dilated, and lips wet. The look in his eyes said he wanted, no, NEEDED to devour you. However, the loss of contact made you whine out in frustration. “Min..” you groaned, apprehensively grinding yourself on his leg in hopes he would move just an inch. “(Name) you gotta tell me with your words now,” Armin spoke, leaving one more kiss on your neck before looking up at you with pleading eyes. Sighing, you bit your lip in embarrassment, “Anywhere, everywhere, wanna feel you all over me… inside me.” He gazed back, stunned at your confession, not to say he wasn’t wishing for the same thing.

You felt the harsh grip of his hand on your ass in an instant, pulling you flush with his hips where you could feel the unmistakable hardness of his dick pressing against you. He swiftly lifted your legs to wrap around his torso while pushing your back against the desk, his hand placed behind your head to make sure you didn’t hit it too hard. His lips were hot against yours and you could feel your baby hairs cling to your forehead from the sweat. Armin's nimble fingers made their way up your shirt, carefully pulling it over your head while he held you off the desk by your waist, hands burning your skin with the simple touch. Your eyes darted down to where his erection strained against his pants, he couldn’t help but needily grind his cock into you to release at least some pressure.

Armin's free hand went to cup your breast through your bra, kneading the flesh as you moaned out in ecstasy. Soon he reached around your back to unclasp the undergarment, staring intently as your tits slightly bounced while falling out. He pressed into your core harder as he felt the soft sensation of your bare boobs beneath his fingertips, experimentally rolling your nipple between his index and middle. The heat in the air was unbearable, the warmth of Armin's jumper far too much at that moment. He gave a quick peck and a quaint “sorry” before lifting himself to strip his body of the item, revealing his toned torso and arms.

While you gawked at his body his hands were making fast pace to underneath your skirt, his short nails leaving tingling sensations as he traced them up your thighs. He folded up your skirt to get a better view, pausing to stare at the pink lace panties you adorned and discreetly swallowing the saliva forming at the back of his throat. He traced his eyes along your body, committing all your curves, the slight furrow of your brows and the way your chest raised up and down in anticipation to memory. His hand trailed its way down to your underwear, breathily sighing as he pressed his middle finger into the large soaked patch.

“Are you this wet for me?” Armin borderline whispered, his face flushing a deep crimson he attempted to hide by swivelling his head to the side. “You’re so cute, Armin.” You mused, interlocking your fingers with his and squeezing them within the palm of your hand. “N- stop, I can’t focus if you tease me like that..” He turned his attention back to you, face still flushed as he guided the hand you were holding to press against your panties. “Do you feel how fucking drenched you are?” He pressed your hand harder into your clit, “How am I not supposed to get excited?” Armin said defensively, you giggled at the sight before you were rudely awoken to his fingers dipping beneath the confines of your underwear.

Your moans rang embarrassingly loud in the small room as a finger shallowly dipped itself inside your pussy. “Is that ok with you?” Armin questioned, it didn’t really matter though as you’d let him do anything to you, however, you mustered up a half moan, half mhm in reply. His finger pulled its way out before pushing in again, much deeper than before. He set a slow rhythm, getting you acquainted with the feeling of something foreign inside of you. You peeked down to where his finger was pumping repeatedly, the veins of his hand prominent when he strained to curl his finger.

“Please, more.” You beseeched, he met your half-lidded eyes and swore he could’ve come from the perilous gaze staring back at him. “Anything for you angel.” And with that, you felt the stretch of a second finger entering you, thrusting faster and harder till your toes were curling in euphoria. Armin leaned over your body to kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth without hesitation, his fingers unrelenting on this attack on your pussy. As he was placing a thumb on your clit, his body jerked at the unforeseen touch of your hand palming his dick. “Mmm, so good min-“ you praised, causing him to nearly double over in pleasure.

The harder you pressed against his cock, the faster he would circle around your clit and thrust his fingers in and out, the more raucous your moans, the more you felt the twitch of his dick beneath his pants. It was a battle of who could indulge the other better, first to come lost, although it was never a fair fight, with the way he reached that spongy spot inside of you over and over, you were mere seconds from falling apart. “Gonna- come, ah!” You shrieked, your core clenching around his fingers so hard he may never be able to escape, “Go on, come for me now.”

You were past the threshold, climax hitting you with the power of a thousand colossals’. Although Armin didn’t stop the plunging of his fingers, rather speeding up, causing a lone tear to trickle down the side of your cheek onto the long-forgotten answer page he had so kindly written for you. “S- too much Armin..” You panted, still high off the last orgasm that propelled its way through your body at an alarmingly intense rate. “I know you can do it, trust me you won’t regret it.” He mumbled into your ear, arm tired yet still so eager to make this something to remember, make him something to remember. “Won’t be able- to take this,” you lightly brushed your hand over his erect dick, “if you keep going.”

His heart stopped momentarily before his hand. You slumped back when he gently pulled his fingers out of you, a string of your cum still attached from where his fingers were inside of you. When it broke, your blurred gaze followed his hand to where he placed them tactfully in his mouth, beginning to suck the viscous liquid. They came out clean, sparkling even, not a single drop wasted, and your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I uh- I don’t have any condoms 'cause I usually, no- haven’t, done this before..” Armin stuttered, eyes darting around his room just in case he’d find the non-existent protection he was speaking of. “Me either.” You said reassuringly, despite the nerves that were eating you up alive. “Really?” He questioned, “I didn’t mean that in a rude way at all it’s just- you’re so beautiful it was surprising to hear that.” Armin flushed, interlinking his pinky finger with your own. “I could say the same for you, I mean you’re sweet, handsome, smart, and with the way you were y’know doing that earlier I thought you must’ve had experience.” Your head turned away at the last word, it was far too embarrassing to look him in the eye after you said all that.

However, you were caught off guard when he grasped your chin between his index and thumb, turning you back around to meet him face-to-face. You felt his soft breaths against your skin, he was so close, and the way he was looking at you felt so.. intimate. “I may or may not have had practice with that stuff with my previous girlfriend, but I’ve never gone this far with her, or anyone for that matter. We’ve barely talked but there’s this feeling in my gut saying it wants it to be you.” A short gasp slipped past your lips, you wanted it to be him, too. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean, obviously, so- please I need you right now.”

The clinking of his belt buckle rang through the room, commanding all your attention. His fingers danced through the belt loops, pulling it loose, you heard the clear thump of it falling to the ground. You utilised your elbows to prop you up, gazing downwards as he undressed himself, alluring you as if it were some kind of performance. He unbuttoned his trousers, and undid the zip, sighing in relief as the constraints were lifted. They slid down his legs, taking their time to reveal the main act of the evening. “Before I take these off, could you please take off your skirt and panties for me?” Armin croaked, attempting to distract the spotlight from shining on him too long. You complied, shimmying the items down your legs and blushing as you realised you were completely naked for Armin Arlert to see.

“It’s only fair you return the favour…” He pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring free, it was pretty like him, pink and dripping with pearly white beads of precum, and surprisingly big too. You couldn’t help but stare, yet he couldn't complain, as he was doing the exact same to you. You both gawked at each other, unmoving. “Will that fit-“, “You’re so gorgeous-“, You both spoke at the same time, inebriated by the other’s presence. The implications of that comment dawned on Armin, and he tried to shield himself out of instinct, he was far too laggard though, as you gripped his wrist before he could block your view. “Don’t cover yourself, I wanna see all of you, even if it is a tad daunting.” You chuckled.

You felt his muscles soften under your hold, slowly pulling his hand away to place it on the desk, caging you with his presence. “I promise to be gentle, just tell me whatever comes to your mind to guide me, please?” He whispered, his head dipped down into the crook of your neck. You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was beating when your chest gladly welcomed his. “Ok, but just know that I trust your judgement on any decision you make, try not to overthink anything and enjoy it for me.” You smiled, running your fingers through his silky locks. “Of course,” Armin tenderly spoke back, as he raised his body from yours.

You gasped as you felt his dick rubbing along your pussy, coating itself in your slick. Until it caught in your opening, his tip at your entrance pulsing and needy to be sheathed inside you. One hand guided his cock within your walls, the other rested against a shelf for support, inch by inch he sank deeper into you, and as the distance between him and the hilt shortened, he was reduced to a symphony of pathetic whines. However, your voice sought to challenge his, moans just as loud as the other, making it infinitely harder for him to stop the pulsing of his dick inside you. Armin was both equipped with girth and length, making the stretch unbearable, your hands that were wrapped around his frame clawed the skin, leaving stinging red lines behind their path.

“You’re so s-so good, just relax your body f’me, you’re too tight, nh-“ He rambled in your ear, barely able to pronounce his words at the sensation of your warm, wet pussy engulfing him whole. The feeling of the harsh wood underneath you was completely numbed by Armin as he pushed deeper and deeper, not an end in sight. You could feel the slightest movements, the two veins that ran along the underside of his dick, and the shivers that ran down Armin's spine, causing him to jolt his hips forward abruptly. “Just a little bit.. ah- more, taking me so well.” You felt the last of him slip inside you, your hips flush against his, stretching you out further than ever before. Your breaths were in unison for the minute or two you were rendered inert, the burn began to ease and the need for more had arisen.

Leeching onto his shoulders, you rolled yourself into him, a choked moan escaping his erubescent lips. Your eyes met in a moment of agreement, and his hips pulled back timidly before returning to their original position. Full body shudders erupted over your perspiring skin, he pulled back, only to push back in again, and out, and in, and out, and in, until it was a slow but fluent movement. You gazed up above you, to see the upturned brows and marginally parted lips, to which high-pitched whimpers and praises couldn’t help but fall out of. He was ethereal. Yet you wished for more, to stain every crevice and crumb of his being with adultery and filth. A sardonic pleasure in which you can bask in the knowledge that you and you alone have ruined him for anyone who dares to unveil his sheep’s cloak.

“Harder, min..” you moaned breathlessly into his ear, making his abdomen tense violently, attempting to keep himself from filling you up with his cum that very moment. Warm air tickled your ear before you were left with nothing but the tip of his dick inside you, that was until everything was inside you, in an instant. His cock split you open, gradually fucking you harder and faster till saliva was threatening to pour from the side of your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his torso, ankles interlocking to get him as far as possible. He reached his hand down to feel your stomach, pressing down so that he could feel his cock meet his fingers, “does it hurt taking it?” Armin questioned, with half-lidded eyes you looked below you. “Bit, not much anymore though… if I wanna be your slut- gotta get used to it.”

His hips stuttered, breaking the fast rhythm they had built up, and a loud groan slipped past his lips. His hands travelled to capture the backs of your knees, protracting your legs to rest over his broad shoulders. Resting his weight on your body your knees touched your chest, and his thick cock plunged itself deep inside you. “F-fuck Armin!” He soon regained his previous pace, the only sounds that graced your ears were the wet slaps of him pounding your pussy like no tomorrow, and the periodic thumping of the desk knocking on the thin walls. Armin coyly glanced to the side before perking up, “Such a good fucking slut for me, taking my dick like that-“ he choked on his words as he felt your pussy squeeze him desperately, the hand on your waist gaining a bruising force.

“If you tighten around my dick like that I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself…” good thing you didn’t want him to. Armin caressed your cheek with his free hand, before slinking it around the back of your head and pulling you up by the hair to meet his supple lips. You retaliated by biting down lightly on his bottom lip, making his thrusts increase in pace. His dick was kissing the head of your cervix as you whined broken sentences into his mouth, “r-ight, there.. ah! Min-“ he adjusted the angle of his hips to reach that spongey spot inside of you, your legs still being brutally folded in half with your feet dangling over his head.

“M’ gonna come..” the pressure had built and wrapped tightly around your core, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice of release. Armin relinquished the battle of your tongues, leaving a small string of spit between your swollen lips, and placed a thumb over your clitoris, swirling in rapid circles. “Mh- me too, come for me, angel.” And with that, your pussy was squeezing the life out of him like a vice, the two of you moaning loud enough to alert the whole building. “Can I- fill you.. up? Please?” You choked out a faint “yes” before you felt Armin's strokes begin to falter and eyes roll back in gratification. The warm sensation of his cum saturating your insides made you clench around him even tighter, drawing out every last drop as he watched himself fuck his cum back inside you.

“Ah! Such a, good, fucking, girl.” He panted, accentuating each word with a hard plunge. Before he slumped down to rest against you, holding your body tenderly in your hands while he ran another through your slightly damp hair. You felt the tensing of his muscles begin to alleviate, and your heart rate climbed back down to a moderate pace. Armin pulled out gently after taking a moment to regain his breath, even so, it hitched again when he saw his cum seep out onto the desk. “I’ll be right back,” he said, pecking you on the cheek before going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth.

He came back to the sight of you, fucked out on his desk, legs trembling, and eyes fighting to stay open. “Sorry if it feels too sensitive, it’ll only be a second I promise.” He carefully dragged the towel between your legs, making you squirm as the fabric briefly brushed your clit, and down onto the table where it had seeped out. “C'mon, let’s get you in the shower, yeah?” Armin gently lifted you in his arms, your legs wrapping around him like a koala bear, before he carried you to the cramped bathroom. “I’m so sorry if I was too rough, just wanted to make you happy.” He said, hiding his face in the nook of your neck, “Don’t apologise, I liked it, a lot.” Armin blushed, rotating his head to the side as he turned on the hot water, placing you down on your feet but making sure to still hold you in case you didn’t have the strength to stand. “Me too…”

—x—

“Soooo Armin, what did you do yesterday?” Eren grinned, reclining back in his chair watching Armin's hand immediately halt as he glanced to the side blushing. “Oh- uh, just the usual, y’know studying..” he chuckled, now repeatedly clicking his pen up and down. “Oh yeah, I bet you were doing a lot of ‘studying’ with (name) last night.” Armin's tongue darted out to wet his lips, looking to the ground as he was too embarrassed to meet Erens mischievous gaze. “Yeah, we were um- well she asked me to tutor her.” Eren bounced his knee up into the desk three times with faint moans before smirking, “Did you forget who lives on the other side of your wall? You guys were loud as fuck, good on you though I didn’t know you had that in you.”

His hand came down to his knee, Eren slapping it carelessly while breaking out into a fit of laughter. Armin lightly kicked him under the desk, his face tomato-red as he glared at the guy sitting across from him. “Shut up, we’re in a library and people are staring!” Armin whisper-yelled. Eren went dead silent as he spotted you a table or two away, noticing a plethora of dark purple marks along your neck. “Goddamn, you were feasting on that shit.” Armin buried his head in his palms while Eren sat there eyes wide with shock. You felt someone’s gaze boring into the back of your head, turning around you spotted Armin and his best friend Eren. You waved over to Armin to which he mustered up a meek smile and waved back, Eren looked over at Armin with a shit-eating grin on his face before ushering you over.

“Hey (Name), I’m Eren, I think we’ve talked in one of our classes before.” You sat down in the chair next to Armin, positioning yourself to face Eren, “Uh yeah I think I remember you! Good to see you again.” You smiled, glancing over to look at Armin, whose eyebrow was twitching ever so subtly. “Oh I actually saw you this morning when you came out of Armin's room, sorry I didn’t say hi sooner.” Your neck snapped back around to Eren, the only thing coming out of your mouth being awkward chuckles. You’ve never seen someone so innocent-looking give the deadliest glare to someone before.

“(Name), do you wanna go on a date, right now?” Armin asked, entangling his fingers with yours. “I-I’d love to, but um, weren’t you hanging out here before I intruded?” Eren leaned forward in his chair, “Go on with Armin, it makes me happy to see him with a girlfriend after so long.” He said earnestly, neither of you confirming or denying the accusation before you both stood up leaving him with a small “thank you”.

————————————————————————

I don’t really like the starting bit it’s lwk cringey, but I prefer smut with some backstory so whatever 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️. Hope you enjoyed I know ts isn’t realistic for a first time but it’s fanfiction so who cares 🙏. I’m open to any requests also, as long as it’s not incest…

[gazemaizeisdead]

there’s a scene in fat albert 2004 where live action kenan thompson fat albert, who has accidentally escaped the fictional television world of his cartoon series and become real à la barbie, meets his creator, bill cosby.

it’s a unique film. i’ve seen it about thirty times. the opening credits are in comic sans.

it’s the worst film in the tiny but horrible microgenre of films in which an established, questionably marketable character with diminished cultural relevance is mysteriously transported to our reality. rocky and bullwinkle, harold and the purple crayon, garfield, enchanted (it’s disney, which at the time was only beginning to toy with the cloyingly affectionate self-awareness that has since swallowed it whole, so an expy blend of all stock princesses is used in the place of any particular ip). if you loosen up the parameters of that definition a smidge you can easily come up with another fifty or so awful, bizarre live-action adaptations of various properties with similar narrative structures and plot beats, but i’m curious about this very specific type of hyper-meta fish out of water isekai movie, stories that are less interested in the characters they are ostensibly about and more about the modern world’s current reactions to those characters, and choose to discuss that in the most convoluted, literal way possible.

this type of story is simultaneously extremely high-concept postmodernist analysis and the laziest paint by the numbers shit it’s possible to create. live-action adaptations even at their best betray an inherent disrespect for animation, implying it to be a secondary medium that exists as a temporary placeholder or poor man’s substitute for reality, that characters are only worth caring about if they look as real as we do or exist in a world like ours. there’s no genuine artistic reason to make a woody woodpecker movie, an avatar movie, a death note movie, a live-action pinocchio, they’re all cynical soulless cashgrabs but they at least do attempt to adapt and actually BE what they purport to be. dan aykroyd yogi bear and light turner and matthew lillard william afton for the five minutes they wanted to pay him to be in the fnaf movie are simply poor facsimiles of themselves and they suck because of that bad mimicry, we see and hear the contrast and know immediately it’s not the same. the project of live-actionization is misguided because even before awful executive-driven creative decisions (which all these movies have in spades) very often whatever is being adapted simply can’t be translated properly to its new medium. you could give a film a 500m budget and airbending will still not look as good as it does in 2d, where one can easily and stylistically show the movement of invisible wind and have a character float and defy gravity in a way that is instantly believable in a way that a real human being moved by CGI is not. neil patrick harris and hank azaria as hard as they try, as talented as they are cannot legitimately sell me on the idea that they’re actually being hardcore smurfed in the way that an animated gargamel can. these movies reach for a perceived authenticity and fail to reach it, not understanding that the mediums they are stealing from almost always allow for a greater seeming realness than live-action can, especially when portraying the fantastical.

the isekai movies go one step beyond this disrespect because they refuse to even play the part. yes we’ll make a rocky and bullwinkle movie but we cannot simply DO rocky and bullwinkle, we can’t do a scooby doo and just make a bigger irl version of the formula, we must have this elaborate meta routine so we can continually point to the audience and share a laugh together about how dogshit and unimportant rocky and bullwinkle are. the people who make these movies are so embarrassed by the concept of taking these ideas seriously that they must even in-universe create further removal from the realness of this to insulate us from the possibility of caring. rocky and bullwinkle must be a fake tv show even in the movie, even in pretend land they must be from a deeper pretend land. it’s fine if you want to do commentary on the property (preferable, in fact, that makes it more interesting!) but this commentary is almost never allowed to extend beyond the singular joke of every gamer webcomic ever made: wouldn’t it be fucked up if fictional thing were REAL?

wouldn’t it be fucked up if rocky and bullwinkle were in a REAL car? you bet it fucking would be. (robert de niro produced this movie and plays the main villain)

obviously we’re in a post-barbenheimer world and the only movie of this kind worth comparing fat albert to is barbie, which is notable for being the only good execution of this premise (i would call enchanted competent; it’s funny but a mess). the barbie comparison is especially interesting because fat albert is a cracked mirror to barbie.

like barbie, fat albert and the cosby kids exist in a cartoon world where characters are simultaneously performers and platonic forms of themselves, and where they operate with an unspecified degree of awareness of their own fakeness; a background character in fat albert’s philadelphia mentions having done guest spots on the jetsons. like barbie, al is snapped out of his usual routine by the personal crisis of one of his fans, when her single live-action tear falls on the remote as she watches his show and magically falls into his fictionalized philadelphia. the magic tear allows him to hear her crying and a portal is rended between the two worlds; he enters reality, naively tries to solve her social and emotional problems with platitudes, and is forced to grapple with the tenuous nature of his existence and mortality and the complexity of the real world. 

i’m just ken is replaced with fat albert performing an extended rap cover of his own theme song. fat albert spends as much of this movie trying to help the main character make friends as he does trying to fuck her adoptive older sister (“my big al”, she calls him).

without getting into “barbie politics” barbie works because it wants to be a movie about barbie, the thing it’s named after. it takes “barbie lore” seriously. at least half of barbie actually takes place in barbieland, a world that the movie cares about making authentically fake and different and weird. the mechanics and nature of barbie’s existence and barbieland are the most important part of the movie. all of these bad adaptations have the obligatory familial infighting/accidentally thwarting a jewel heist/stopping the evil CEO from demolishing the neighborhood to build a megamall/helping larry bird get his basketball talent back from the aliens plot and so does barbie but it’s an excuse to talk about more interesting abstractions. there is a subplot dedicated to barbie helping to reignite a mother and daughter’s bond but this isn’t the core of the movie, it really is about barbie, literally and metaphysically. fat albert too isn't "about" helping a girl make friends and find herself, it's about fat albert, but it resents that about itself.

fat albert 2004 has about six minutes of actual animation, it rushes to get kenan thompson on screen as quickly as possible and stays there as long as it can (presumably a factor of cost more than anything else, as with all of these films). in barbie the ideas and philosophies of barbieland and real life both naturally affect each other, are reflections of each other, which is an obvious worldbuilding choice that makes intuitive sense; the media we consume is a reflection of the real world and vice versa. there is nothing inherently wrong or bad about the link between the two worlds, says barbie, though it is often the conduit for harmful ideas.

fat albert’s philadelphia and our philadelphia do not share this connection, albert’s intrusion in the real world is a perversion of the natural order and, we later learn, a physical impossibility in the long term. halfway through the movie, the cosby kids begin to be influenced by the real world: mushmouth gains the ability to speak coherently (“don’t call me mushmouth anymore! just call me… mouth!”) and dumb donald removes his ski cap, learns to read, and goes to the library and speeds through 22 volumes of african-american history. this is portrayed as profane; as dumb donald says before jumping back into the TV halfway through the movie: “"i've become smart enough to understand that... we've entered into a world where we do not belong. if you try to become something that you're not, you lose the essence of who you really are."

albert, still on his love quest, at first refuses to rejoin them; he goes off on a date with protagonist’s older sister, which goes well until a child recognizes him and shames him for not being in the tv where he belongs. “we need you! what would mr. cosby think if you don’t go back?” al’s stunned by this; he has no response, but it inspires him to seek answers. in the next scene he decides to find out. he walks up to bill cosby’s house and knocks on the door.

in barbie the discussion barbie has with her creator, ruth handler, is the emotional climax of the film. when barbie tells her she wants to stay in southern california, ruth warns her of the dangers of being human, but does not ultimately stop barbie from doing so; she points out that she is incapable of doing so even if she wanted to.

fat albert mirrors this discussion; albert is told of his conceptual origins. as barbie is based on ruth’s daughter, he is based on a deceased childhood friend of cosby’s, the grandfather of the girl he is trying to help (which is why the movie is careful to repeatedly stress the point that the older sister he’s fallen in love with is only his granddaughter by adoption). there isn’t a parallel moment to the one in barbie where handler winks to the audience about her criminal conviction but that’s probably in the film’s best interest.

albert pleads with cosby in the same way as barbie. more than anything, he wants to stay in the real world. cosby, like handler, encourages him to recognize his own power as an icon, but informs him that his fate is inescapable. if he stays in the real world, his colors will begin to fade and he will soon “turn into celluloid dust” and die. how cosby knows this is not explained; presumably little bill also visited him in the past and suffered a similar fate.

even when done cynically (as it always is) to adapt or remake anything to reject the source material in some way. it’s a paradoxical relationship, because to do it you have to both like (or at least be interested) in what you are recreating but find some aspect of it unnecessary or outdated or lacking or worthy of change. the animation to live-action adaptation often must navigate the additional paradox of wanting to make the unreal real, and the end result, formed by people who don’t care and are only in it for a paycheck, is usually bad art.

in the end fat albert acknowledges his own unreality and crawls back in the tv. the final scene is a saving private ryan style ending where all of the real life elderly inspirations for the cosby kids leave flowers on the real fat albert’s grave. here it hits you: the only moral of the live action fat albert movie is that a live action fat albert movie is a really shitty idea that would kill fat albert.

i agree.

[written-in-flowers]

The Places Between Us: Prologue (OT8 X Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!reader | Side pairings: Fem!Reader x ATEEZ

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Smut, angst, slight fluff | AU: fantasy!au

Summary: Afflicted by a terrible curse, YN must travel through the vast kingdom and suffer through eight lords of the north to reach her destination: the demon who created in the first place, Lord Kim.

Overall Tags: dub-con, mind control, enslavement, kidnapping, forced breeding, monster fucking, sex work, mentions/implications of abuse, mentions/implications of SA, public sex, exhibitionism, humiliation, degradation, breeding kink, bigdick!Seonghwa, bigdick!Yunho, undead sex, sex w/ undead, belly bulge, anal sex, anal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, squirting/vaginal ejaculation, slight size kink (height wise), overstimulation, facials, cum swallowing, choking, dom!ateez, sub!reader, tit fucking, sex toys, bondage, multiple partners, threesome, orc!jongho, naga!seonghwa, demon!hongjoong, dragon!yunho, undead!mingi, goblin!yeosang, lycan!san, lycan!wooyoung.

Note: if you choose to ignore the red tags, don't cry to me about it.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of ATEEZ in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Part 1: The Naga King >

****

At the Rooster’s Nest, there are two types of clients: single clients and married ones. A lot of the workers there, whether they be “entertainers” or barmaids, tend to steer clear of the married customers. They don’t mind pouring them drinks, sitting on their laps as they gamble, or give them a private strip tease, but a personal session? Never. The last thing an “entertainer” needed was an angry wife bursting through the door and throttling her for doing her job. So, a good portion of them stayed away from customers with spouses at home. 

Except you. 

You didn’t mind customers who had someone waiting on them. In fact, you preferred them. You told others that it gave you an excuse to charge an extra fee, your ‘hazard pay’. If a man wanted you badly enough, he’d have to pay extra for the pleasure of your company. Your colleagues laughed at your boldness, often giving words of caution, but you told them the money was worth it. They weren’t surprised, of course. You became notorious for it.

“You can charm the pants off anyone, YN,” Hyunjin told you in the dressing room. The silver-haired siren sat at his vanity, combing out his long strands, as he spoke. “I thought I could seduce someone, but you have me beat, I must say. I don’t know how you do it, but you do it.”

“What’s your secret?” a woman with sleek brown hair came walking out of an adjacent room, half-dressed with her hair tied in a high ponytail. Chorong leaned against the wall next to your table and crossed her arms. “Love potion? Special pheromone perfume?”

You shrugged, “I just know what men like, that’s all. They’re not hard to read, especially after they've had a few drinks.” 

Dabbing blush onto your cheeks, you smirked to yourself. It came naturally to you, you supposed. Since you grew up without parents, you’d started caring for yourself at a young age. You aren’t particularly big or strong. You might be clever and cunning, but you have no head for numbers or reading. You only had your looks and charm. If you were short of money in the market, you batted your lashes and budding breasts at the merchant and he gave you what you wanted. Whenever you’d been caught stealing, a few whispered promises and sweet words enchanted the sheriff into letting you go with a warning. People can be quite easy once you understand them. All the men who came into The Rooster’s Nest only wanted two things: booze and women. You provided both. 

Fixing up your eyebrows for a final time, you checked out yourself in a mirror. Tonight you wore the red and gold halter top, and the long skirt that hung low on your hips. A tantalizing outfit, the two slits in the skirt left a bit for the imagination and the vibrant color drew the eye. The golden bangles on your wrists, and the necklace draped between your breasts added another layer of regality. In the mirror, you transformed from a country girl to a seductive goddess. You’d have no trouble alluring the right men tonight.

One man in particular stuck out in your mind.

“Are you seeing Him tonight?” Hyunjin asked, a knowing smirk on his face. 

You couldn't suppress your smile at the question. A pointed face with dark round eyes came to the forefront of your mind. The thought of his wide, gummy smile only broadened yours. Your stomach filled with butterflies as his laugh echoed in your head. You hadn't seen or heard from Hongjoong in several weeks, but you knew he had not forgotten you. The numerous trinkets and love letters in your bedroom told you so. He never said when he'd arrive; he simply showed up and spent the night before leaving again. A situation like this might bother some women, but for a woman in your profession, it worked out well. 

“I don't know,” you answered. “He hasn't said if he'd come by or not.” 

“He's probably with his wife and kids right now,” Chorong joked, earning giggles from the people around her. “A good looking guy like him is definitely not single.”

“No,” you shook your head, “Hongjoong isn't like that. I can tell.”

Memories of your last night with him came flooding back. Eyes landing on a crystal necklace hanging from your mirror, you admired the white raw moonstone on a silver chain. The silver circled it as if encased in ice, gleaming in the light of the dressing room. You picked it up and clasped it around your neck. 

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to wear that?” Hyunjin asked, tying a glittery sash around his hips. “Vernon might show up.”

“I don’t care,” you admired the stone laying on your chest. It stood out against the gold and ruby necklaces you wore. Hongjoong might come tonight and see you wearing his gift. “If he doesn’t like it, he can go with somebody else.”

“Ha, I doubt he’ll do that.” 

Chwe Vernon was a walking money bag with a pretty face. Son of Gold Rush’s mayor, he also ran the largest farm in the area. He comes into The Rooster’s Nest with pockets full of gold and silver to spend on ale, gambling tables, and pretty girls. A lot of your coworkers didn’t mind humoring him whenever he came into the tavern, but they never went past a kiss or a feel. Vernon might be handsome and rich, but not enough to risk running into his wife. 

He didn’t hold a candle to Hongjoong. Not by a long shot. 

“You’re playing with fire, girl,” he chuckled. “Haeyoung isn’t one to be messed with.”

“Oh, what will that little rat do? Squeak at me?” You said, a bit annoyed thinking about Vernon’s jealous wife. 

More people might pursue Vernon if it weren’t for the rumors that spread about Haeyoung. The rumors that she was more than a mere apothecary and healer. One of the church women claimed they once saw Haeyoung performing dark magic rituals in the forest while another claimed she’d set a curse upon her daughter. Witches are not well liked in the smaller country towns, where prejudice stemmed from fear of the unknown and unfamiliar. You found this to be hypocritical since your local priest, Father Moon, wielded what people called ‘Holy Magic’. But then again, he claimed his powers came from a high being, so people accepted him. The only reason Haeyoung never stood on the gallows was Vernon and his family. An upstanding family like the Chwe’s wouldn’t let a witch into their clan, so it must be a rumor. Still, people remained suspicious. That suspicion turned into caution. Cross Chwe Haeyoung, and become cursed. 

You found this to be utter nonsense. The only beings with any real magic are the non-humans, or ‘magicfolk’, like Hyunjin, who was a Siren from the Northern Sea. You saw glimmers of his “unnaturalness” in the shimmery contours of his face, a light aqua against fair skin and the dark blue hue of his full lips. Aside from him, a good chunk of the people who lived in Gold Rush are also magicfolk. Some of your best and favorite regulars are not human; you had many elven, goblins and were-people as friends. You doubted Haeyoung, with her mundane humanity, was anything close to magical. 

“Well, I’m off,” you concluded, slipping into a pair of sandals. “I’ll see you two on the floor.”

You walked out into the tavern’s main room. Several gambling tables took over the large hall, while a band played music in a nearby corner. Behind the bar, you saw Yoongi wiping down pint glasses while Namjoon served beer from the barrels. You gave him a wink, which made him smile brightly. You never could resist a handsome face. Men are a weakness of yours, especially the particularly handsome ones. It’s why you’d become so interested in Vernon initially. His looks drew you to him, but it was his purse that kept you around. Sauntering by the bar, you gave Namjoon a flirty smile.

“Evening Joonie,” you said, making eye contact.

“Evening YN,” he breathed, passing out a pint of ale while looking you over. “You look sensational.”

“Don’t I always?” you approached the bar, taking in Namjoon’s muscles and broad shoulders. “Busy tonight?”

“Not busy enough to ignore you,” he winked, then turned away. 

You left the bar for the stages on the other side. The sensuality going through the room slipped into your body, and controlled your swaying hips as you walked. A young woman in nothing but a golden chain harness and mesh underwear contorted herself into complicated positions for a group of men near the stage. A tall, lavender-skinned she-elf danced provocatively on one of the smaller stages on either side of the area, golden coins in pails at the corners. 

Standing near the area, you searched for Hongjoong. He liked sitting at the back tables, where he could watch in private. He always came alone; he hardly spoke to anyone except the occasional “business partner”. Hongjoong never said what he did for a living, but you knew it must be profitable. The man’s pockets never seemed to empty. Your heart weighed slightly when you did not see him at his usual spots. Perhaps he’ll come later on in the night. 

You took your place on the opposite stage, and started swaying and whirling your hips. It didn’t take long for customers to gravitate towards you. You gave your flirtatious winks, your sly smirks, and sultry responses. You showed glimpses of your breasts and backside, knowing how it made them drool. Their attention fueled your movements; their desire to touch you sparked a similar arousal in you. Hongjoong said he loved watching you dance. His eyes followed every movement, glued to your body and already planning what he’d do with you later. 

“Namjoon!” Vernon waltzed into the tavern, giving the bartender a wide smile as he put a coin on the bartop. “One pint, please. I’ve built up a thirst tonight.”

This was your chance. Hongjoong won’t be upset if you took up with someone else before him. A girl needed to eat after all. Hopping off the stage, you made your way over to Vernon through the crowd. 

“Hello, handsome,” you said with a smile, taking the spot next to him. 

Vernon’s eyes glued to your body the second he saw you. They drank in your scandalous outfit, focusing on your chest a bit longer before meeting your eyes. “YN…” he said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I bet people have been drooling over you all night.”

“They have,” you admitted, walking closer, “But there’s only one person I want drooling over me.”

Make him feel special. Even if it’s for an hour or two, your job was to make an everyday man feel like a king. You took the ale Namjoon placed on the bar and sipped it, keeping your eyes on Vernon as you did so. Pointedly, you let the top foam slide down the sides of your mouth before wiping them away.

“Trust me,” he smirked, pulling you by the waist and taking the beer, “I’ll be doing more than drooling by the end of the night.”

“Oh?” you teased, “And what about Haeyoung?”

“She’s out of town,” he said. “Something about meeting a friend up north. I don’t know, but she won’t be coming here.”

“Good,” you said, hands on his chest, “I don’t want her to spoil your good time.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, hand on the small of your back. “Come sit with my men and I,” he insisted, “I could use a good luck charm at the tables.”

You let him lead you to an open table and sat in his lap. ‘Good luck charm’ was Vernon’s way of saying he needed an accomplice. You’d distract his opponents with your tits or a compliment whenever Vernon switched cards up his sleeves or stole chips from them. Being a rich man who surrounded himself with desperate men, they didn’t dare speak out if they did catch him cheating. 

“This is real silver and moonstone,” Vernon asked half way through the game. He lifted the moonstone from your neck, “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a gift,” you saw his jealousy rising, and you felt annoyed. 

“From who? Nobody around here can buy this kind of thing.”

“He’s from out of town. He comes here sometimes, and he usually gives me nice gifts. Sometimes it’s rare flowers, other times it’s things from exotic places.”

“So, he’s got money?”

“I guess? He travels a lot.”

Vernon nodded, then dropped your necklace. “I don’t see why he bothers,” he said, “Why would any man spend money on a whore?” 

You wanted to slap him. You almost did before you remembered his fat coin purse. Hongjoong would’ve punched him. Rich man or not, Hongjoong feared nobody. You knew this from the time you watched him square off against a large farmhand who’d insulted you. The man stood several inches taller, and much wider, yet Hongjoong did not back down. They didn’t come to blows, but just seeing him defend you when other men didn’t strengthened your feelings for him. Vernon would be no match. 

After a few rounds of watching the same outcome, you gave a small pout. “This is starting to bore me now. Why don’t we go play our own game upstairs?” 

“And what game might that be?” he questioned, pushing hair from your face and letting his fingers trail to your bare shoulder.

You pretended to give it a thought, then picked up a black gambling chip. “Find the Chip,” you winked, already standing with the chip between your teeth.

“My favorite.”

You led him upstairs by the hand, anticipation burning down your body. You knew you’d make a killing tonight. Men like Vernon never went only one time; they had the money, and they’d spend all they had. The moment he shut the door, you began slowly undressing. Vernon’s eyes stayed on you as you removed it piece by piece, unbuttoning his own shirt as he did. Soon, you were naked and pulling back the bed sheets.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he marveled at your nude form, watching you throw the chip onto the bed. “I’ve never been with a woman as beautiful as you before…”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” you said, crawling into the bed and putting the covers over yourself, “Haeyoung isn't a great beauty.”

“Nor as erotic.”

He settled between your thighs and immediately started feeling up and down your body. You giggled every time he brushed a ticklish spot, and gave a soft sigh or two when he moved over a sensitive area. You knew the circular chip was right underneath you, and so did he, but he didn’t go there just yet. Vernon captured your lips in his as he “searched” your breasts. Cupping and squeezing them gently, you felt small sparks of pleasure when he rubbed over your nipples. Your hands roaming down to his waist, you slid them into his pants and squeezed the firm cheeks there. It earned you a low rumble that filled your mouth. Vernon let you massage them while he started grinding against your bare sex. It never took much to warm your clients up, particularly because they come to you already aroused. You simply drew it out of them in every kiss and touch.

Your head turning to give him more access, you happened to glance out the window. On the sill, illuminated by the lantern on the low side table, sat a black bird. You couldn’t make out the breed until it bounced a little closer. A crow. You have never seen one on its own before. The bird stared into the room as if watching you and Vernon. You amused yourself by thinking it’d come to peek in on you. 

When he finally found the chip, Vernon received his reward.

“Yes,” he exhaled deeply, feeling your lips finally wrap around his tip, “Just like that.”

You gave the pulsing head a soft lick before sliding it into your mouth. The salty precum threw you off a moment, but you’d grown used to it right away. Sucking firmly, you bobbed your head gradually up and down while keeping your eyes on him. His whines and whimpers made your sex throb; you watched the powerful, influential Chwe Vernon slowly submit to you. You stopped sucking and jerked him as you kissed his thighs, knowing the move arched his back. The pleasure radiating from him brought life into your worn out body; it replaced the emptiness that filled your insides. Whenever you began having sex, Vernon became a man possessed. He suddenly didn’t see sense, and did whatever you wanted him to do. You immediately became his world, which you basked in gladly. 

As you went back to sucking his cock, tasting the smooth skin and feeling the veins pulsate against your tongue, the door flew open. 

“Vernon! What the hell are you doing?!”

Haeyoung’s howl broke Vernon from your spell, and he bolted upright. You smoothly moved away from him and faced Haeyoung. A sliver of a woman with black hair and dark eyes, Haeyoung’s glaring face irritated you. She always acted so surprised when she caught him with someone. You snatched up your skirt from the floor and started sliding it back up your legs. 

“Haeyoung?” Vernon said in disbelief, using a pillow to cover himself, “Wha-What are you doing here? You said you were coming back tomorrow!”

“I came back early,” she said, not looking away from you, “Because I knew you’d take the opportunity to see your whore while I was gone.” She stalked into the room, not bothering to address her husband. “So, you’re the one he’s been seeing. Huh, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been the type to take things that aren’t yours, YN.”

“It’s nothing personal, Haeyoung,” you admitted. “Vernon’s just a client. Nothing more. If you’re gonna take it out on anyone, it should be him.” 

“It’s not his fault you’re an evil temptress,” she hissed. “You’re a deceitful, greedy whore. You only became a brothel worker so you have excuses to sleep around and feel important, because you know deep down, you’re nothing. It’s probably the reason your parents abandoned you. They knew you’d grow up to be a no-good, worthless whore and didn’t want anything to do with you.”

This insult would’ve brought you to tears when you were ten. Now, as an adult, you felt your rage boiling.

“I wouldn’t know, Haeyoung, they abandoned me, remember?” You remarked, pulling on your top and clasping it behind your neck. “You two can work this out up here,” you tied your skirt around your waist and put it in place, “Goodnight to you both.”

Haeyoung stood between you and the doorway. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Out of my way, Haeyoung, before I call the bouncers.”

“You and those harlots down there,” she growled, “Are going to finally see what happens when you mess with what’s mine.”

“Haeyoung, please!” Vernon called out desperately, “Don’t!”

You saw the look in her eyes, feeling the rage burning within her and boiling to the surface. She did not frighten you. She was a puny little woman angry at the world. 

“Goodnight, Haeyoung,” you said firmly, pushing her aside and leaving the room.

“Don’t you walk away from me, you slut!”

“Namjoon!” you called out from the loft above the main room, “Haeyoung’s at it again.”

“I’m on it.”

You’d started walking down the stairs when you heard her from the top landing. “You’re going to regret not curbing this appetite of yours, YN YLN!”

You’d only just turned around when something hit the lower part of your back. Hot, stinging pain paralyzed you, causing you to fall down the rest of the stairs. Your jaw clenched as you restrained a scream. White hot pain shocked your muscles and seeped deep into the area around it; you slammed into the bottom landing as the pain burrowed inside and started spreading. It slowly crept through your veins, starting on your back where it rolled against your spine. The pain came the worst here. You would’ve thought someone tried splitting you in half or swung a burning blade up your back. Your fingers dug into the carpet as your arms started trembling. You swore it went into your fingernails, causing you to curl your fingers into your palms until they bled. 

“What the…” Namjoon’s voice sounded closer, “YN!”

“Oh my god, YN!” you heard Hyunjin from nearby.

Their voices barely reached you. The sensation moved from your back to your chest, which burned hotly. It went up into your throat like bile, acidic and viscous, but nothing came up. Only more horrific screams tore through your throat, calling into the air like a banshee. In the blurriness, you made out Haeyoung’s shadowy figure. When she bent down over you, you saw her wicked smugness. 

“Haeyoung, what’s happening? Is she alright?” Vernon called from somewhere far away. 

“You crazy bitch!” Hyunjin shouted, “What the hell did you do?!”

“You should've kept your legs closed, YN,” she smirked. “Now, you're gonna do anything but close them.”

You clawed at her, but the pain kept you in place. 

“Witch!” a voice called out from nearby. 

“She really is a witch!”

“Get her!”

Haeyoung yelped when a pair of strong arms lifted her away from you. The self-satisfied smile she’d worn vanished the instant she saw the people around her. “Wait! Wait, no! Vernon! Vernon!” 

“Get the sheriff!”

“I got the rope!”

You wanted it to stop. You wanted to die. 

“Namjoon, please help!” Hyunjin sobbed. “Please, don’t let her die.”

“A witch! She’s a real witch!” Somebody cried from nearby. 

“Get the rope!”

“Let her swing!”

When another person bent over you, you flinched away from their touch at first. It was Namjoon. His hands pressed to the spot on your back, and it felt like fire on your skin. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but he murmured a low incantation in a strange language. Namjoon’s spell soothed the engulfing flames while relaxing the torturous pain.

“Namjoon-” Hyunjin’s whimper interrupted.

“-Hush!” 

Namjoon continued chanting, his voice drowning out the commotion going outside. Someone screamed, but you couldn't place the precise location it came from. All you comprehended was your pain and Namjoon's steady, gentle voice. When the sensation slowly dwindled to a dull ache, your brain became fuzzy from the combination of the two. 

“Just sleep, YN. Just sleep.”

And so you did. 

****

Someone broke all your bones and put them back together with glue. At least, that was how you felt when you woke up the next morning. Laying face down in a soft bed, the faint scent of lemon and lavender filled your nose right away. It had a strangely calming effect on you, as if the scent itself clung to your skin and nostrils to heal you. You didn't know where you were at first. Your brain pieced together what happened the previous night, and all you mustered was Haeyoung’s gloating face. Haeyoung. You thought of the calls for a rope and cries of witchcraft. 

“Did they hang her?” Came out of your throat hoarse and cracked. 

“Not right away,” Namjoon answered from nearby. 

Opening your eyes fully, you saw him crouching by the fireplace. He appeared to be stirring a small pot on the cracking wood. You curled, stretching your aching bones, to get a better look at him. The friendly bartender had shed his persona to reveal the simple man underneath. Gazing down his neck, you noticed his broad shoulders that led to lean arms. Free of his jacket, you saw the swirling black tattoos around his shoulders and wrists. They appeared to be in the shape of runes, at least you guessed. You’d never seen them in all the time you’ve worked at the Rooster’s Nest. When did he get them? What did they mean? It brought attention to his firm, toned body. For a brief moment, you saw yourself kissing down his smooth chest to his navel before slowly tugging his pants to his thighs.

You shook the thoughts from your head. 

“Someone dragged her outside while Yoongi got the rope,” Namjoon explained, crushing herbs between his palms then adding them to the pot. “I managed to stop them before they yanked her up the tree.”

“She’s alive, then?”

“No. I only stopped them to question her.”

“About?”

“About where she learned demon magic.”

“Demon magic?” your eyes widened. 

“The spell she casted last night can only be casted by a demon,” he nodded, stirring the potion which turned a bright green once the leaves touched the surface. “They're the only beings strong enough to wield them. If she’d been a mere mortal, it meant a demon taught it to her or she stole the magic from one of them.”

“I’m going to take a guess that she wasn’t human?”

“Oh, she was. She was a witch,” He sprinkled a few sprigs of herbs into the potion next, and you saw the green hue turn a murky jade. “Witches can consort with demons. When I asked her, she said a powerful demon showed her things that no mortal ever could. It took me a while, but I learned where she got it from.” 

“Are you a demon then?”

He laughed through his nose, “No. You’d know if I was.”

“Then, what are you?”

“Warlock,” he tapped one of the runes on his shoulder. He stirred the green potion in the fireplace, taking a whiff before adding more herbs. “These are protection runes. If Haeyoung tried cursing me, it would have bounced back on her.” 

“Wish I had some protection runes,” you muttered. “Where is she now?”

“Six feet under in an unmarked grave,” he said, “What they do to all witches.” 

“What happened after they hung her?” 

“Haeyoung’s neck broke the second they hoisted her up the tree. Of course, the death of his wife riled Vernon and his boys up so they started fighting the other patrons in the bar. Two men had been shot by the time the sheriff and deputy rode up to the place with their boys. It took them a while to settle everything up and get tempers cooled again, and when they did, the law took in two of Vernon’s gang, a dwarf who’d tried coming at him with an ax, and Yoongi. Don’t worry,” he said at your sudden gasp, “He’s out. They let him go when it was confirmed that she had, in fact, attacked you.”

“Vernon must’ve been pissed about that.”

“He was,” Namjoon nodded. 

He ladeled some potion in a pint mug, then came back to your bedside. You forced yourself to sit up despite the tenderness in your limbs, and took the warm mug in your hands. In a few tentative sips, the potion started relaxing your sore muscles. Namjoon watched you drink as he continued. 

“Though, I don’t get why. It’s not as if he was a faithful, loving husband.”

“He’ll be glad to be rid of her, I suspect.” You scowled over your drink, taking another sip before saying, “Wish they’d waited until I woke up so I could watch her swing.” 

Your upright position stretched your back, and brought focus to the slight stinging coming from where the pain originated. Reaching behind your back to the left side, you felt several raised welts underneath a thin gauze bandage. The sizzling, scorching pain that initially shocked you faded into a faint stinging whenever your fingers brushed it. The patch itself felt wet, but when you brought your hand to your nose, you smelled the earthy scent of witch hazel. 

“Is it bad?” you winced over at him. 

“It was awful,” he confirmed, “But Healer Yang and I were concerned about the mark itself. It can get infected if left alone for too long. I applied some witch hazel to relieve any inflammation or irritation you might get from it.”

“Mark?! She marked me?!”

Namjoon sighed, then said, “She cursed you, YN. Minor to mild curses don’t typically come with any sort of mark to signify it, but the major ones definitely do.”

You furrowed your brow in thought. Haeyoung had said something as she watched your suffering, but you couldn’t recall it. 

“I imagine she thought it’d be ironic,” he said. He went through his satchel nearby, retrieving a small leatherbound book with a strange symbol on the cover. “She already believes all brothel workers are sex-driven animals. It only makes sense that she’d curse you with the Hand of Lust.”

“Hand of Lust?”

He turned the book around on your lap. On the page, the author illustrated a realistic disembodied hand coming out from flickering flames, a bleeding heart inches above the fingertips. Aside from that, they’d written ‘The Hand of Lust’ and a description of the curse. 

“‘Those cursed by The Hand will suffer unimaginable lust,” you read out loud. “‘A lust so powerful that it shall drive the cursed to pure madness within several days.’ Wait,” you paused, rereading the sentence, “Pure madness? I’ll go insane?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’ll lose your mind and become a zombie basically. I’ve seen it, and it’s not pretty.” 

“I mean, I have sex loads so it can’t be that bad…”

“Yes, it can and it is. It’ll start with just being horny a lot but you'll be able to manage, then it’ll turn into an obsession. The slightest suggestion will have you dripping for it,” he explained. “Then, it’ll slowly turn into an addiction. You’ll want it all the time, and probably do crazy shit trying to get it. By the end, you’ll want nothing but sex. You won’t know anything. You won’t be able to think straight, and you’ll never get your senses back. You won’t eat or sleep. You become a shell of who you were before.” He saw the dread filling your eyes, and said, “But, luckily there’s a cure for it.”

“And you happen to have it on you right now?” 

“No, sadly not. Demon magic can’t be undone the normal way,” he said. “You’ll have to go to the demon who created the curse. Only they know the secret to lifting it.”

“Great,” you huffed, drinking more of the herbal potion, “Just great. Where would I even find them?”

“You’re in luck. Haeyoung told me everything she knew, since she hoped it might save her. He’s in The Crescent Mountains,” he answered. “She wouldn’t give me a name, but she told me they call him ‘The Dark Lord’.” 

“The Dark Lord?” you scoffed, “Really? That’s what he calls himself?”

“It’s what people who’ve met him call him. She said nobody knows his real name.”

“A demon who lives in the coldest mountain range in the north? Oh yes, Namjoon, I’m so lucky. They’re on the other side of the damn kingdom. It’ll take me ages to get there! I’ll be a zombie by then!” 

“Two weeks,” he said, “Which is more or less how long the curse takes until it consumes you. But, I found a captain that’ll take you straight there by boat. No detours. You’d be there within a week.”

“And this demon will just lift it for me?”

“Oh, no, he’ll definitely expect something in exchange. That's why I packed this for you.” 

He placed a rucksack in front of you. When you opened it, you saw the usual supplies: packets of food, a water canteen, a first aid kit, matches, and a small lantern. But, you also found something large wrapped in velvet. Removing the black cloth, you realized it was a large grey stone. About the size of a baseball, you saw the crimson rune etched into the sides. 

“It’s a runestone,” Namjoon explained as you studied the stone. “Demons collect these so they can improve their skills and weapons. This ‘Dark Lord’ will have a hard time saying no to this. Plus,” he smirked, “It might only sweeten the deal if you offered yourself up to him afterwards.”

“I think sex will be the last thing I want once he removes it.” You wrapped the runestone back up, and put it in the bag. 

Namjoon hesitated, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Even after hearing his explanations, you still couldn’t fathom your fate. As Namjoon started ladling the rest of the potion into small vials, you played with the crystal still around your neck. Touching it brought a strange kind of comfort. You wished Hongjoong had been there last night. You wouldn’t have bothered with Vernon at all if Hongjoong had been there. You rubbed your thumb along the icy design, you envisioned the end result. You saw yourself walking slowly, groaning and moaning as you searched for any sort of stimulation. The curse itself made sense when you thought about it. Haeyoung already saw you as a worthless sex addict, so she picked a curse that would make you regret every decision you ever made. 

“The boat leaves in an hour, so I suggest getting ready to move out,” he said, putting the vials in a small pouch. “I’ve packed some medicine for you. You’re going to feel a lot of the curse’s physical effects, and these can at least alleviate that.” 

“Wait, you’re not coming?”

“I can’t,” he said. “I have a business to run and The Dark Lord will probably smite me the moment I get near his palace. You’ll be safe, YN,” he said gently, sitting on the bed next to you. “Captain Jin is a good guy. He won’t take advantage of your mental state like other men might.” 

“What if I don’t make it in time?”

“You will. Just follow the directions on the map, and you’ll make it there in no time. Jin’s boat goes straight to the northern port, so you could just go through the little town there until you reach the mountain. Trust me, it won’t be hard to find. It’s pretty big.” 

This didn’t make you feel better. As you started changing, you thought about this demon lord. In your head, you saw a massive, hulking figure with big black horns, red skin and sharp fangs. He’d find your predicament funny, no doubt, since he was the curse’s creator. He’d be sitting on some kind of throne, wearing nothing but a pair of pants to show off his bulging muscles, and expect you to “offer yourself” to him. 

Perhaps by the time you meet him, you would. 

*****

The little port town near Gold Rush sat on the eastern coastline. According to Namjoon, the mountain port was just upwards from there and would take at least a week. You hoped his timeline was correct as you said your farewells and made your way to town in a wagon. As you rode there in silence, fear started filling your stomach and twisting it around. You’d never left home before; you never had a reason. It’s the only place you’ve ever known, and now you are leaving to somewhere foreign and new. What if you didn’t make it to the port? What if the captain did take advantage of you? The thought of being underneath a sweaty, flabby figure made you gag. 

However, Captain Kim Seokjin was anything but sweaty or flabby. He was tall with wide shoulders a girl could hang onto in any position; brown hair swooped over his dark eyes, which gave you a friendly glint when you approached. 

“You must be YN,” he grinned, coiling rope around his large hands. “Namjoon told me you’d be joining me.”

His boat was a small, rickety thing with a canvas sail and fishing equipment. You guessed you’d be sleeping below, since you didn’t see anywhere else. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I need to get up north, and he said you’d be taking me there?”

“Yup,” he answered, holding out a hand, “Come aboard. I just finished getting stuff ready for our trip.”

As you stepped onto the boat, a loud ‘caw’ caught your attention. A crow sat perched on the cabin in the middle of the boat. Black eyes gazed at you from above, slightly flapping its wings as it moved around. It drew up a memory as you stared back. You’d been underneath Vernon, you think, enjoying his soft lips when you’d looked out the window. There’d been a crow there too. It didn't appear different from any other crow you'd seen, but the longer you looked at the bird, the more ominous it felt. The soothsayers who used to come through town during festival season said that crows were dark omens. Considering your upcoming trip, seeing the bird only worsened your feelings. 

“Is he yours?” You asked Jin. 

Jin looked up from the side of the boat to see the bird nearby. “Nope,” he answered, though seemed delightfully surprised nonetheless. “Crows aren’t really native to these parts. They’re more up north. You mostly get seagulls around here. Strange,” he dug into a sack nearby and fished out a small portion of sunflower seeds. “Here, buddy,” he said gently, cautiously putting the seeds down, “Have a snack.” 

The bird did not flutter away or snap its beak at him. It only stared, then started pecking at the seeds. “He doesn’t seem…scared?” you said curiously. “Aren’t birds usually fidgety?”

“He might be domesticated,” Jin said, getting inside the cabin. “Now, let’s get going. The waters can get choppy around the northern parts, so we gotta tread carefully.” 

You set your bag down by the crow, and watched him eat. From what Namjoon said, you expected to feel the urge to hump everything in sight. You thought you’d be aroused non-stop from the jump. That should’ve been the desired effect, surely. Yet, you felt nothing of the sort. For some reason, that worried you more. The sensation circled you like a shark looking for its prey. The thought taunted you in the back of your mind. You expected it to hit you at any moment. 

It did hit you. 

As day grew into night, Jin’s boat sailed past the coastline onto open water. He’d let you have the captain’s cabin, which was really just a small cot with a wash basin and dresser. The rocking waves moved the boat side to side, and it cradled you to sleep. 

His hands were on you before you could comprehend anything. Soft fingers kneaded the flesh of your thighs, thumbs pressing to the inner sides as they slid to your center. You let out a faint gasp when one digit rubbed along your slit unexpectedly. Opening your eyes, you saw nothing in the cabin’s pitch black darkness. You could only hear his low, steady breaths as he continued feeling up your sex and thighs. He parted your legs easily, settling down on top of you as if you were made of glass. It couldn’t be Jin. This intruder was far slimmer, and his voice sounded higher. You smiled right away. 

‘Hongjoong,’ his name fell from your lips in a soft breath. 

‘I can’t wait to have you,’ he breathed in your ear, hands going from your thighs to your breasts. ‘To really have you.’ 

Warm lips caressed your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you melted. Your body suddenly became hypersensitive to his touch. Every light caress ignited the fires stirring inside your panties. Each kiss and lick brought out mewls that pleased your visitor. A sudden heat flared up around your neck to your cheeks as he kissed down to your chest. You realized then you wore nothing but your underwear. Smooth leather, crisp linen and rough denim brushed against your bare skin, creating a new friction that you needed. Thumbs rubbing over your nipples, soon he used his tongue to tease more cries out of you. No man ever took this much time with you. They always wanted to jump to “the best part”, which was you pleasuring them instead. Hongjoong never did that. 

‘The gods really smiled on me when fate led me into that little brothel,’ he said in between soft suckles. ‘I’d never be here otherwise.’

Suddenly, his face was between your thighs and his tongue lashing your bare clit. You never felt anything like it before. His warm, slippery tongue easily circled your hard clit, flicking it until your back arched. He didn’t restrain you, only holding your thighs as you wriggled about on the bed. 

‘So delicious,’ he groaned against your slick folds. ‘Exactly as I remember it. I can never get enough of you.’

Your mind spun with pleasure coursing through your body. Your fingers slipped into soft, silky waves and curls as you brought him closer. The lewd slurping sounds of him sucking your juices joined your constant moaning. 

‘Hongjoong…’ his name escapes you in a soft sigh. 

‘Be a good pet for me, and indulge in your mark. It’ll be worse for you if you don’t.'

“YN! YN, wake up!” 

A pair of rough hands shook you awake, and reality broke through your dreams. The slight rocking that had lulled you to sleep had turned more violent. You noticed the porcelain wash basin laid on the floor in pieces, and your overheard lantern swung side to side in every wave. Jin stood above you, fear and panic widening his eyes, and he continued shaking you. 

“Wha-what’s happening?” you asked groggily, rubbing sleep from your eyes. 

“You gotta come help me,” he insisted, tossing your clothes at you. “This storm’s come out of nowhere. It’s bad. It’s…Just, come up and do what I say and we’ll make it out of here. Storms don’t last forever.”

Dressing proved to be difficult as the ship moved to the crashing waves. Through the small window, you saw nothing but the darkness and raindrops pounding the glass. Flashes of lightning were followed by roaring thunder, almost piercing your ears and making you tremble as you pulled on your jacket. Coming outside, Jin gave you a yellow raincoat to shield you from most of the pouring rain. It came down in hard sheets, filling the wooden boat before spilling out through holes in the sides. Boots sliding over wet floors, you followed Jin’s instructions to the letter. You knew nothing about boats, but you understood “pull that rope” and “push that lever”. It was harder than you imagined. The harsh waves and rain made it impossible to see. You couldn’t see anything past the dangling lights of Jin’s boat, the world around you shrouded in darkness. Only the lightning briefly illuminated the dark clouds rolling over you. It was hard to imagine an end to the madness.

“Brace yourself!” Jin called through the loud thunder, “A big one’s coming!”

You didn’t see the wave, but you certainly felt the boat tip upwards at a ninety-degree angle. Gravity pulled you downwards, and you grabbed tightly onto the main mast. A scream escaped you when you realized your feet left the ground and you dangled in the air. The sensation of falling backwards brought out more terror as your body and the boat capsized, plunging you into the icy cold water. Instinct told you to hold onto whatever oxygen you had as the rolling waves tossed you this way and that. You’d die like this. You were going to drown. Your eyes opened, and you sorely wished they hadn’t. 

In the darkness of the sea, you saw glowing eyes. Bright gold, they blinked at you from the abyss. You screamed, desperately trying to get away to the surface. The figure swam closer, unbothered by the water as something slimy wrapped around your ankles and dragged you-not down-but sideways. You continued kicking and grasping at the water, your chest caving as your last breath left you. The creature carried you along gently, its tentacle keeping a firm grip but not so much it broke bones. Instinct kicked in once more and your mouth opened. Gallons of water filled your lungs as you soared through the ocean, salt burning your throat and tongue. 

Namjoon never said elements might kill you before the curse did. 

Though, right before you reached death, the creature flung you out of the water. Your body carried weightless through the air, more rain pelting you, and you crashed right onto something solid. Then, everything went black.

****

A/N: ooof, YN's going to be going on a very interesting journey! Hope you all stick around for the ride!

[3n-vi-ous]

little things about the obey me cast

lucifer

The Mom Purse™

has everything you could possibly ever need in his bag (which he carries around everywhere)

probably enchanted it to hold more than its meant to

always has to have some kind of non-water drink- usually hot tea or coffee

will never admit to it but he loves those super sugary iced drinks that barely have any coffee in them

very little spice tolerance. keeps a straight face because his brothers will jump on it SO fast

wears gel liner and mascara (would be a super pretty crier because of it)

mammon

talks to himself out loud when he's alone. will have whole conversations

eats SO much junk food but somehow stays in good shape (insane metabolism + actually works out at the gym with beel when he has the time)

chronic over exaggerator

incredible spice tolerance, will totally make fun of lucifer should he find out about his lack thereof

doesn't know how to say no (as seen in the game)

sleeps with socks on because the bed sheets are bad sensory

leviathan

once watched human world brain rot for shits and giggles and now he cant get it out of his head

wants to test if cocomelon works on mammon (spoiler alert: it does)

squeaks when he does a big stretch

could absolutely wreck somebody's shit but never thinks to in actual situations

not shy, just socially inept and bitter. he chooses not to interact

reads the devildom version of ao3 near religiously

satan

HAS to sit cross legged or some non-conventional way

doesn't matter what he's sitting on. its happening

totally the type to sit on a couch or armchair upside down with his head hanging off

doesn't like acidic food/drinks, it makes his teeth feel weird

would watch wendigoon if introduced. i think he'd love video essays (mystery flesh pit, anyone?)

writes personal notes in glittery gel pen

asmodeus

has a perfectly organized pencil pouch for school

once got swarmed by devildom geese. worst day of his life

steals his brothers' clothes ('i have to show you how to style these things correctly!')

would never stoop so low as to go to the casino, but is better at poker than mammon

will lie with the straightest face

eats finger foods with a fork because he doesnt like grease on his hands

beelzebub

comically easy to scare

takes really bad notes, even when he pays attention

has won several fangol games for his team

weirdly good art. mostly does chibi style doodles inspired by whatever anime Leviathan last made him watch

would cover for any of his brothers if they committed a crime (if they would even get persecuted- they are political figures)

if obey me was a musical, beel would be the one asking why everybody is singing

very smell sensitive, dislikes strong hand soaps, deodorants, etc

belphagor

always has snacks on him, in his bag, in the attic, etc

this came around because of beel, ofc

additionally, always wearing cargo pants of some kind when he's not in pjs. loves pockets

can do some sick knife tricks

not too far from canon, but falls asleep in weird places. often falls asleep sitting up, and if it's the only quiet place he can find he will absolutely pass out in a closet

would bring his brothers to the back of spencer's for the lols

diavolo

takes very large steps, mostly due to his height, and is very hard to keep up with

adrenaline junky. what with his inherent power, it just really gets him going to feel like he's in danger

can't say a tongue twister to save his life

likes party games like cards against humanity

hums to himself a lot, stims with the vibrations

the only one who can reliably tell when asmo is lying

loves lucifer for his dog and his dog alone /j silly

sometimes convinces barbatos to teach him how to cook. knows how to make some simple stuff

barbatos

probably cracks his joints really loud

can beat you up but thinks he's above it

has his own fandom of people who've got the hots for him

lucid dreams all the time

has an in depth skincare routine. shares tips with asmo

probably watches people sleep sometimes

i think it'd be cute if he sewed or crocheted or something in his free time

mephistopheles

has really expensive cologne

very low alcohol tolerance. also only likes fruity drinks

rolls his eyes SO much for literally no reason. he's just a brat

his devilgram is full of pictures of his horses

never learned to drive. always either on horseback or is driven by a personal driver

secretly loves white girl music

great with kids, pretends to hate him but he loves his brother

would totally get bullied on roblox

simeon

smells like lavender

once swore in front of luke and damn near died of shame

paces a lot when he's in thought

gets very in the zone when he's writing, hates being interrupted

absolutely wakes up november 1st and decorates for christmas. its not even a religious thing, he just likes the aesthetic

probably wears a really fancy watch he got from lucifer or diavolo

i mean this is kind of already canon but simeon would fall for someone he finds worth it

luke

knows all the swear words. will never say a thing

needs a nightlight to sleep but would rather die than tell somebody

likes to sit on simeon's lap and show him devildom brain rot because simeon doesn't understand what he's looking at

cant pronounce 'comfortable'

got simeon and solomon to get him a pet fish after he saw henry 2.0

the best at hide and seek, will not be found by anybody short of barbatos

if he were to have a discord server it would be all bots because he likes to play with them

solomon

sleepwalker

has scared the ever living shit out of simeon and luke in the middle of the night cause he's standing there dead asleep in the kitchen

cant stand silence. usually playing music or talking out loud when alone

gestures a lot when speaking

would probably kick a vending machine if his food got stuck

it'd be really funny if he ever got hit by a bus

his room is a MESS. only cleans it for luke (he likes to hang out in there) or possibly mc

[godricgryffinsnore]

babes, i absolutely love your work so yk i had to request something!!!

george weasley x bsf!reader who’s forced to watch reader get asked to the yule ball by almost every guy in their year. she’s getting asked left and right by guys from all houses, and he doesn’t understand why she keeps denying them until he realizes she waiting for him to ask. (basically a little jealous george + best friends to lovers?)

Yule Be Mine ♡ : A George Weasley Fan Fiction.

pairing : George Weasley x fem!reader

summary : At the Yule Ball, two best friends discover that sometimes, all it takes is a little jealousy, a lot of dancing, and one perfect night to realize what’s been in front of them all along. 💫

warnings : Light language, excessive fluff, mutual pining, jealous behavior, one (1) extremely love-struck Weasley. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : Thank you so much for requesting, anon!!! I really enjoyed writing it, love!!! Glad to have you here <333

word count : 1.9k

main master list <3

banners : @anitalenia and @cafekitsune

George Weasley was not the type to be jealous. Really, he wasn’t. Except right now, watching a seventh Hufflepuff boy trip over his robes just to ask his best friend to the Yule Ball, George was absolutely the type to be jealous.

“Another one?” he muttered under his breath, watching from across the common room as (Y/N) politely turned down a tall Ravenclaw with a blinding smile and teeth too perfect to be trusted.

Fred leaned beside him, snorting into his hand. “You know, at this point, you might want to just hang a ‘Reserved for George’ sign on her or actually do something instead of glaring at everyone like a gremlin.”

“I am not glaring,” George hissed. “I’m observing.”

Fred tilted his head. “You’re observing like you want to set his robes on fire.”

George didn’t respond. He was too busy imagining exactly how long it would take to invent a hex that turned charming Ravenclaws into goats. Maybe five minutes. Ten tops if he wanted horns.

Another one. A Slytherin this time—smirking like he thought he stood a chance. George narrowed his eyes.

(Y/N) blinked, gave a kind smile, and shook her head.

DENIED.

That was the eleventh guy in two days.

“What is going on?” George muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “She could’ve said yes to any of them. That Slytherin even offered her enchanted roses. Did you see them? They were floating.”

“She doesn’t want roses, George. She wants you,” Fred said, like it was the most obvious thing in the bloody universe.

George blinked.

“I—what? Me?”

Fred stared at him, the way one might stare at a particularly dumb Flobberworm. “Yes, you, you daft—”

“George!” (Y/N)’s voice rang out, sweet and cheerful and completely unaware of the chaos she was wreaking in his chest.

She bounced up beside him, cheeks pink from the cold, smile radiant. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who asked me to the ball today. I swear it’s getting a bit mad.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” George muttered, barely resisting the urge to cross himself dramatically. “Thought I was going to have to start charging admission to watch you get asked.”

She laughed—god, that laugh—and bumped her shoulder into his. “I don’t get it though. Why all of a sudden?”

George opened his mouth to say, Because you’re perfect and you smell like peppermint and you laugh at my jokes even when they’re terrible and your eyes do this crinkly thing when you smile and I can’t stop thinking about you— —but instead, he shrugged and said, “Beats me. Maybe they all drank Amortentia.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m not saying yes to any of them.”

George’s heart did a full somersault.

“Yeah?” he said, trying to sound casual. “Saving yourself for Cedric Diggory, then?”

She gave him a look. “Cedric? Please. He’s already going with Cho.”

George perked up. “So…you’re not waiting for anyone in particular?”

Something flickered in her expression. A moment. A pause.

“I might be,” she said lightly.

And then she walked off.

George stared after her, dumbfounded.

“Merlin’s saggy knickers,” he mumbled. “She’s waiting for someone.”

Fred leaned in again. “How’s that observing going for you, Sherlock?”

“Shut it.”

── .✦

Over the next three days, George kept an unofficial (and definitely obsessive) log of every guy who dared approach (Y/N).

There was Oliver Wood (too muscly), Ernie Macmillan (too earnest), and Seamus Finnigan (too…explosive). Each one got the same response: a smile, a polite “no,” and a wave.

Each one made George want to throw something into the Black Lake.

“She’s not mine,” he grumbled, “but if one more bloke tries to hold her hand I will invent a spell that turns them inside out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Lee Jordan said, watching George brew what he claimed was a calming draught but looked suspiciously like a spite potion.

“I’m in love,” George corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Lee raised a brow. “You told her yet?”

George blinked. “...Of course not.”

Fred groaned from the next table. “You are the dumbest genius I’ve ever met.”

── .✦

The day before the ball, George was losing hope.

(Y/N) hadn’t said yes to anyone. But she hadn’t asked anyone either. Which meant she was either going alone (which made George want to riot), or—

“George,” she said, flopping onto the couch beside him.

He inhaled sharply. She smelled like parchment and chocolate frogs.

“I’m giving up,” she declared, tossing her hands up. “No one else is going to ask, and honestly, I’m just tired of pretending I’m not disappointed.”

He blinked. “Wait—disappointed?”

“Well, yeah.” She leaned her chin on her palm, looking pensive. “I mean, I was kind of hoping someone specific would ask. But at this point... maybe I just go alone.”

George’s pulse skyrocketed.

Someone specific. Someone specific. Someone with red hair and bad timing and a heart currently trying to claw its way out of his chest.

“You know,” he said, voice cracking slightly, “maybe he’s just a bit slow.”

She gave him a look.

He cleared his throat. “Not stupid slow. Just… worried he’ll ruin the best friendship he’s ever had in his life by asking the most amazing girl to a dance.”

Silence.

She blinked. “Oh.”

George inhaled. “And maybe, just maybe, he’s so completely gone for her that the idea of her saying no makes his stomach feel like Peeves set off a dungbomb inside it.”

More silence.

Then—

“Well, you absolute idiot,” she said, standing up, “you could’ve just asked.”

George stood too, flustered and flushed. “So, uh—want to go to the ball with me?”

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Finally.”

He laughed, stepping closer, and god, it felt right. Natural. As if this was always supposed to happen, and all it took was eleven rejections, two broody nights, and one very jealous Weasley twin to get there.

“I should’ve done this ages ago,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles against hers.

“You should have,” she teased, eyes gleaming. “But I forgive you.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he kissed her—soft and sure and entirely theirs.

── .✦

At the Yule Ball, Fred raised his goblet dramatically and declared, “To the most oblivious couple in Hogwarts finally getting their act together!”

George threw a bread roll at his head. (Y/N) just laughed.

Jealousy had never looked so good.

── .✦

“If I faint, don’t let Fred draw on my face.” —George Weasley, 7:03 p.m., approximately two minutes after seeing you walk into the Great Hall.

── .✦

George Weasley had faced trolls. He had outrun Filch with a dungbomb in his pocket. He had once pranked Snape’s office and lived to tell the tale. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could’ve prepared him for the sight of you descending the staircase in your Yule Ball robes.

You were glowing. Not metaphorically. You literally shimmered. There was glitter. There was…sparkle. You looked like you’d been handcrafted by the gods of chaos and starlight and soft, sweet things, and George stood there like someone had punched him square in the soul.

“You’re drooling,” Fred muttered beside him.

George elbowed him without breaking eye contact.

You caught sight of him, and your face lit up—lit up, like you were relieved to see him.

George’s knees nearly gave out.

“Hi,” you said, voice softer than usual, lips glossed and curled into a shy smile. “You clean up nice.”

George stared. “You—you're—I mean, I clean up alright, but you—Merlin, you’re blinding.”

You laughed, biting your lip, and George’s brain promptly short-circuited.

── .✦

The Great Hall was unrecognizable—ceiling bewitched to resemble a starlit sky, frost-dusted trees in every corner, everything dripping in silver and enchanted snow. But to George, it all faded into the background the second your hand found his.

Your fingers curled around his like it was natural, like it was always meant to be this way, and he had the sudden, bone-deep realization that he was doomed.

He was so in love with you it wasn’t even funny anymore.

Fred gave him a look from across the dance floor. George gave him a rude gesture in return.

── .✦

“Okay,” George muttered, staring at the dance floor. “Here’s the thing. I can charm the knickers off a professor with a pun, but I cannot waltz.”

You grinned, tugging him toward the music. “That’s fine. I can, and I’ve got two feet that aren’t constantly trying to murder each other.”

“Are you saying I’m a hazard?”

“I’m saying you’re lucky you’re cute.”

George’s heart did a backflip. “You think I’m cute?”

“Shut up and follow my lead, Weasley.”

── .✦

You danced.

Well—you danced. George mostly shuffled around like an overgrown redhead who had suddenly forgotten how limbs worked, but you didn’t seem to mind.

You laughed when he spun the wrong way. You snorted when he tripped over your hem. You beamed when he finally got the steps right for half a chorus and whispered, “You’re doing it.”

George felt like someone had lit a firework in his chest.

“You know,” he said as he swayed with you, your head on his shoulder now, music slow and honey-sweet, “this might actually be the best night of my life.”

You looked up at him, eyes shining. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned closer, breath brushing your cheek. “Though I still might faint.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You look very…faint-worthy.”

You laughed and pulled back just enough to kiss his nose.

George stopped breathing entirely.

── .✦

Fred interrupted halfway through your third dance with a dramatic bow and a: “If you don’t let me steal the lady for one spin, I’m going to explode from secondhand tension.”

You laughed and agreed, twirling off with Fred who (to no one’s surprise) was suspiciously good at dancing.

George watched, arms crossed, glowering.

“She’s not yours, mate,” Lee Jordan said beside him.

“She is tonight.”

“Getting a bit possessive, aren’t you?”

“Don’t care. She smells like vanilla and joy, and I saw Malfoy eyeing her during the last song.”

Lee laughed. “You’re gone, Weasley.”

George didn’t deny it.

── .✦

When you returned, breathless from spinning with Fred, George pulled you right back into his arms with a firm, “Mine now.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Possessive, are we?”

“You have no idea.”

You both laughed—but neither of you let go.

── .✦

Later, after the band had packed up, after the enchanted snow had melted and the hall had emptied into whispers and giggles and clicking heels, you and George sat on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard.

You dipped your fingers into the water. George dipped his gaze to you.

The stars were reflected in your eyes. Or maybe you were just full of light like that.

“I had fun,” you said softly.

“Me too.” He hesitated. “You were waiting for me, weren’t you? When all those blokes asked.”

You smiled, eyes still on the water. “Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t think I had a shot.”

You turned to him, incredulous. “George Weasley, you’re my best friend. You’re funny and clever and good. Of course you had a shot.”

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

George tilted his head. “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The kiss was soft, slow, a little messy, like two people who’d been on the verge for too long finally crossing the line—and finding out the other side was better than they’d ever dreamed.

When you pulled back, George was grinning like a lunatic.

“Told you,” you teased, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky I’ve got the girl who turned down half the school to wait for me,” he said, voice thick with wonder.

You kissed him again.

Somewhere in the background, Fred gagged audibly from behind a statue.

[sushiyuzu]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄

type: special halloween oneshot

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

cw/genre: nsfw/smut (*mdni)，fluff，romance，tension

summary: when celebrating halloween together, sylus wants to show you how a true dracula indulges in the night 🦇🖤

start to end: 27/10/2024 – 29/10/2024 ᝰ.ᐟ

a/n: hey everyone! i just wrapped up a special halloween oneshot that took me three days and probably more caffeine than i care to admit. it’s a super long read—over 7,000 words! (i think) so, grab your fav snacks, get comfy, and prepare to be entertained. i promise it’s worth your time, or at least that’s what i keep telling myself 💀

happy (early) halloween, and enjoy the read! 🎃

halloween night has finally come, and your heart beats faster with excitement and nerves as you step into sylus’s mansion in your 6-inch heels.

the grand entrance is decorated beautifully, with soft cobwebs and candles flickering everywhere. shadows dance on the marble floor, and you catch the faint scent of pumpkin spice in the air. it feels perfectly festive, and you wonder if sylus is the one who set it all up.

you hope he is.

you take a final look in the mirror. your costume is a stunning female vampire. your dark red dress fits perfectly, hugging your curves, with lace that adds a touch of elegance. the high slit on the side reveals just enough of your leg, and your makeup is bold with dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick. your hair is neat, framing your face. you even added fake fangs to complete the fierce look.

you and sylus had been discussing and planning to celebrate halloween together a few nights back. though onychinus and linkon city were far from each other, the distance felt like a small obstacle in your high-tech world, where the cities glittered with neon lights and transport drones zipped between them.

“we’ll make it special,” he had promised over the holo-call, his figure flickering slightly in the blue light. you could see the excitement in his crimson eyes, even through the hazy, digital screen. he described his plans with that rare spark in his voice, talking about turning his mansion into an eerie, gothic wonderland for the night.

“and i want you there,” he’d added softly, his voice barely a whisper, almost like he feared the city might hear him. “just us, no distractions, no noise.”

you’d laughed, feeling the warmth in his words despite the sci-fi distance between you. “i wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you’d replied, already counting down the hours to leave the metallic bustle of linkon city behind and step into sylus’s world for halloween.

now, as you walk through the mansion, you notice the dim lighting and rich decorations, making everything feel warm but mysterious. paintings line the walls, and antique furniture adds a timeless charm. each corner is dressed up for halloween, from the grand dining room to the cozy living room.

then, you hear footsteps.

sylus steps into view, and your breath catches. he looks absolutely breathtaking in his dracula costume. his black suit fits him perfectly, and a long red cape flows behind him. his silver hair is slicked back, making his red eyes shine even brighter in the candlelight. he has this confidence and elegance that makes your heart race.

“ah, my enchanting vampire,” he says in a smooth, inviting voice. “you look absolutely captivating tonight.”

you can’t help but blush at his compliment. “thank you, sylus. you look incredibly dashing as well.”

he strides closer, his presence both bold and intimidating. you feel a thrill of excitement as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i must admit,” he says, his gaze intense and appreciative. “the sight of you is almost enough to make me forget my role.”

you smile, feeling a flutter of joy in your chest. “i can’t wait to see what you have planned for us tonight.”

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. the mixture of confidence and charm in his voice earlier sends a thrill down your spine.

sylus gestures for you to follow him into the grand living room. the space is decorated with elegant orange and black accents, the walls are adorned with gothic decorations: carved skulls, and eerie portraits, and a table filled with treats waits for you. there are chocolate-covered strawberries, ghost-shaped cookies, and a large bowl of punch with floating eyeball-shaped fruits. it all looks delicious.

you smile, looking around at everything. huh, sylus really does have a talent for detail.

“let’s indulge in some delightful treats before the festivities commence,” he says, his voice filled with charm. he leads you to the table, pouring a glass of punch for each of you.

as you snack on the treats, the cozy atmosphere wraps around you like a warm blanket. the candlelight flickers off the walls, creating a magical, mysterious feeling. sylus leans back against the plush sofa, his confident demeanor making him seem both bold and relaxed. he lifts a chocolate-covered strawberry to his lips, and you can’t help but watch as he bites into it, the sweet juices spilling slightly.

“do you know what happened during my first halloween?” he asks out of nowhere, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. you nod, intrigued.

“i was dressed as a ghost—an elegant one, of course,” he continues, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “but instead of scaring anyone, i tripped over my own cape and ended up falling into a pumpkin patch.”

you burst into laughter, picturing the usually composed sylus tumbling into a sea of pumpkins, his serious nature shattered for a moment. “i can’t imagine that! you falling into pumpkins sounds hilarious!” you exclaim, your laughter echoing in the cozy room.

he chuckles softly, the sound rich and deep, making your heart flutter. “oh, it was quite embarrassing. luke and kieran still tease me about it to this day.” his expression turns nostalgic as he recalls the memory, and you notice a rare, softer side of him—a side that allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

only with you.

“i can picture it now,” you say, grinning. “you covered in orange goo and trying to act dignified.”

“not my finest moment,” he replies, but his tone is light, and you can see the amusement in his eyes. “but it did teach me that even a dracula can have a silly side.”

you feel at ease with him, laughing as he shares more stories. each one shows you a little more of his real personality, the layers beneath his calm, mysterious exterior. he has a way of making you feel special, like you’re the only person in the room. with every shared laugh, the connection between you grows deeper, and the rest of the world fades away.

and in that moment, you realized how lucky you are to be spending halloween with him. it’s not just about the costumes or decorations; it’s the way he makes you feel—cherished, understood, and completely at home.

and you love him for that.

“do you like the decorations i made?” he asks, his crimson eyes searching yours.

you smile, realizing you were right.

he made them.

“they’re beautiful,” you reply, looking around. your heart flutters at the thought of sylus’s effort. “everything feels so magical here.”

“that was my intention,” he says, a hint of pride in his tone. “i wanted this evening to be enchanting, just like you.”

as the night progresses, the two of you find yourselves getting lost in conversation. you move closer together on the plush sofa, the warmth between you growing more intense. sylus’s big hand squeezes the soft flesh on your inner thigh, pulling you snugly against him.

you notice his gaze lingers on your lips, and it sends a thrill through you. your heart races, pounding like a drum in your chest. the air around you feels heavy with anticipation, as if the world outside has disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

sylus leans in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you. his breath brushes against your skin, warm and inviting. the closeness makes your cheeks heat up, and you can hardly breathe. every inch between you feels charged with an unspoken desire, pulling you together like magnets.

you watch his eyes as they darken with longing. there’s a mix of seriousness and softness in his expression that makes your heart flutter even more. time seems to slow down, and all your worries melt away. in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you and the unspoken words hanging in the air.

he inches closer still, and you can feel the heat rising between you. your breath catches as his lips are mere inches from yours. it feels as if the whole world has disappeared, and you’re both lost in a bubble of intimacy. you can sense his heart racing as well, matching your own rhythm.

“do you know what happens when a vampire and dracula meet on halloween?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“no, what?” you reply, unable to hide the excitement in your tone.

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. “they share a kiss under the moonlight.”

with that, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his. the kiss starts soft but quickly deepens with passion. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you deeper. you can feel the heat rising, igniting every nerve in your body. you melt into his embrace, feeling the intensity of the moment. your hands tangle in his silver hair, holding him close as you kiss him back with equal fervor. the kiss is electric, full of longing and desire, and you lose yourself in him.

after a breathless moment, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes with affection. “i have always wanted to share this moment with you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“me too,” you whisper, feeling shy yet excited. you can see the hunger in his eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

“let’s not let the night end just yet,” he says, his tone becoming more commanding. he stands, extending his hand to you. “come, there is more to experience.”

you take his hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him as he leads you deeper into the mansion. he leads you through the dimly lit corridors until you reach a large door. he opens it to reveal a lavish library filled with towering shelves of books and soft, plush seating. the room smells of aged paper and wood, creating a sense of intimacy that draws you in.

“this is my favorite spot,” he says, gesturing to the plush cushions scattered around. “it’s where i come to think,” he explains, his voice softening as he gestures around the room. “it holds my secrets and desires.”

the tension between you thickens as you step inside. you can’t help but admire the way he looks in this dim light, the shadows playing off his sharp features. as you sit together on the cushions,he turns to you, his expression serious yet tender. sylus leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “a place where we can escape from the world.”

you feel a rush of heat at his words. the tension in the room grows, and you can’t resist leaning in closer. your lips barely brush against his, igniting the fire that has been building all night. sylus responds with a soft growl, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you onto his lap.

he looks at you, his expression serious yet tender. “do you feel the darkness of the night, my vampire?” he asks, his tone lowering as he leans more closer now. “it invites us to embrace our true selves.”

your heart races at his words, and you nod, feeling the thrill of the moment. “i do. it’s intoxicating.”

“then let us indulge in it.”

before you can respond, he pulls you closer, your chest pressing against his. his lips crash onto yours with a passion that ignites the air around you. the kiss is fierce and commanding, leaving you breathless as you melt against him. his hands grip your waist tightly, and you feel the heat radiating from his body.

the kiss deepens, tasting of desire in every movement. sylus’s fingers slip into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands roaming over his strong shoulders, pulling him even closer. “you make it hard to control myself, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low and thick with need. “but tonight, i want to savor every moment.”

as he pulls away, his crimson eyes darken with longing. the tension crackles between you, thick and electric. “let me show you how a true dracula indulges in the night,” he whispers, his gaze smoldering, a seductive promise in his voice.

sylus leans in again, capturing your lips with a slow, passionate kiss. his hand trails down your side, fingers dancing over the fabric of your dress, sending shivers through you. he takes his time, exploring and teasing, igniting a fire within you that grows with every touch.

every. single. touch.

the atmosphere is thick with desire, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s lips move down your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you arch your back, craving more of his touch, more of his presence.

“you are exquisite,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with longing. “i want to lose myself in you tonight.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you can’t help but respond with a soft moan. “please, sylus. don’t hold back.”

the intensity between you peaks as he captures your lips once more, and the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s big hands roam your body, exploring every curve and inch of you. each touch sends electric shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within. his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling softly. you arch your back, craving more of him, wanting to melt into his embrace.

“you taste so sweet,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. you feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. the way he looks at you, with those dark crimson eyes filled with passion, makes your heart race even faster.

“sylus,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “i need you.”

his eyes darken at your words, a hungry glint flashing in them. with that, he kisses you again, this time with a deeper, more urgent passion. his hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as if he never wants to let go. you can feel the heat of his body radiating onto yours, and it makes your skin tingle with excitement.

the kiss grows more intense, and you lose yourself in the moment. every touch, every kiss, feels like a spark igniting a flame inside you. he presses you closer, and you can feel the hard lines and muscles of his body against yours. it sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. “i want to feel you, all of you.”

your body responds to his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. you nod, unable to find your voice. all you can think about is the need building inside you, growing stronger with every passing moment.

sylus’s hands move from your waist to your thighs, sliding up and down slowly, teasingly. his fingers press into your soft skin, igniting every nerve ending. you can feel a warmth pooling deep inside you, a desire that makes you ache for him.

“please,” you whisper, the word slipping out in desperation.

he grins, a wicked smile that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “you don’t have to beg, my sweet,” he replies, his tone playful yet serious. “tonight is ours.”

with a swift movement, he lays you back onto the plush cushions, his huge body hovering over yours, making you feel small. the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this intimate moment. the tension between you thickens, almost tangible, as he leans down to kiss you again, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace.

his kisses grow more fervent, more demanding, and you can feel yourself responding in kind. your hands explore his body, feeling the strength beneath his clothing. the heat between you builds, a fire that consumes everything in its path.

“let go,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and inviting. “let me take care of you.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you surrender to the moment. every worry, every doubt, fades away as you give yourself to him completely. you lose track of time as his kisses grow deeper, his hands exploring, igniting every inch of your skin with pleasure.

his fingers then trace along your shoulders, reaching for the shoulder yoke of your dress. he moves slowly, almost teasing, as he slips one sleeve off, then the other, his touch light and careful. his eyes never leave yours, watching you closely. he keeps his gaze on you, his fingers moving slowly down, inch by inch, sliding the dress lower, and down to the ground. the fabric feels cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, steady, and sure.

“such a work of art,” sylus murmurs, his voice low and reverent. his touch gentles, becoming almost worshipful as he bares more of your skin to his gaze. his fingers trail along your collarbone, then down to your breasts.

sylus’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the tantalizing sight of your cleavage. “oh, i missed this,” he growls softly. his fingers trace the edge of your bra, teasing the soft skin just above the lacy cups. he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “so much,” he whispers.

his eyes meet yours, filled with a silent command. his hands move to your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, slowly peels back the fabric, revealing more and more skin, inch by inch. once your bra is completely undone, he tosses it aside, letting it fall to the floor. his eyes feasting on your now bare breasts, a slow smile spreading across his face. “so perfect,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to cup the tender flesh. “like they were made specifically for me.”

exactly, just for him.

as his hand cups one, his thumb rubbing over the hard peak. so sensitive. he leans down, taking the other peak into his mouth and sucking gently. his tongue flicking out to caress the hardened bud. a soft gasp tears from your throat, your back arching as pleasure shot through you.

his touch is gentle, almost worshipful. his hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling around to squeeze your bottom. he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. carrying you, sylus walks towards his study desk, never breaking the intimate contact. he lays you down gently on the cold surface, his warm body covering yours, your ample breasts jiggle with each movement. his lips trail from them up to your neck, his tiny fake fangs grazing your pulse point. “you’re mine,”

completely and utterly his.

he continues to worship your breasts, his mouth and hands moving between them, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer sucks, his fingers rolling and pinching your other nipple. “so delicate,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. “so mine.”

“s-sy...” his name escapes your lips in a breathless moan, and you feel him smirk against your skin, clearly satisfied by your reaction.

he didn’t stop. his mouth is completely relentless, switching to the other breast and another once more, giving it the same equal attention, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin until you are squirming beneath him, every nerve in your body alight with desire.

his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. his touch becomes more demanding, his fingers digging into your flesh. he kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your thighs farther apart. his breath is hot against your core as he murmurs, “and this...”

his hands grip your thighs tighter, holding them apart as he leans down and presses his mouth to your center before biting the edge of your now soaked lace panties and sliding it to the side, revealing your wet cunt. “...belongs to me.” his tongue delves into your wet folds, parting them to lap at your nectar.

without any further hesitation, he dips his head and buries his face between your thighs. his tongue laves at your entrance, gathering your juices before thrusting inside you, fucking your hole with his tongue. your hands fist on the edge of the desk as he continues, the slow, torturous rhythm of his tongue driving you closer and closer to the edge. every stroke, every flick of it sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and it was all you could do to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.

sylus growls against your sex, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure. his tongue circles your clit before he suckles it between his lips. two long fingers plunge deep inside you, curling to stroke your inner walls. and in that moment you realize, he had come prepared. his nails on both of his middle and ring fingers are cut short, smooth and neat. he made sure to trim them carefully, knowing it’s important for what’s to come. the clean tips of his fingers shine softly in the light with each pull outs from your sweet hole, showing he thought ahead, fully caked with your pussy juices. he feels ready, knowing he can focus on the moment without any worries.

my, my, so thoughtful. yet so naughty.

sylus pumps them steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue. he sets a steady pace, his fingers plunging deep and curling to hit that special spot inside you with each thrust and rub. his tongue dances over your clit, alternating between rapid flicks and slow, deliberate licks. he can taste your arousal, feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers. your hands fisting in his hair as you try to keep yourself grounded. but it is impossible. every flick of his tongue, every suck, every moan and groan that vibrated through you only push you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to fall.

he hums against your sex, the vibrations almost too much to bear. his fingers curl more deeper, rubbing firm circles against your g-spot as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue fast. the pressure builds, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

sensing your impending orgasm, sylus doubles his efforts. he adds a third finger, scissoring them inside you to stretch your pussy even further. his mouth closes over your clit, and he sucks hard, his fangs grazing your sensitive flesh as he hums a deep, vibrations-rich note.

as your walls tighten around his fingers, he lifts his head, his mouth glistening with your essence. “look at me, sweetie,” he murmurs, his accent thick. you meet his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth wash over you. his fingers continue to move inside you, thrusting deeper with a steady fast rhythm. his palm presses against you, applying just the right amount of pressure where you need it most. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. he watches you closely, taking in every gasp and shudder that escapes your lips. you can see the hunger in his eyes, the way he craves every reaction from you. it makes your heart race even faster.

“that’s it, just like that,” he says softly, encouraging you as his fingers curl at the perfect angle. you can feel him hitting that sweet spot, and it makes you moan even louder. the room feels like it’s spinning, and all you can focus on is him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“you feel so good,” he adds, his voice low and sultry. the heat between you grows stronger, and you can't help but squirm beneath him, craving more. you feel a wave of bliss building inside you, ready to break free. you want to feel everything he has to give.

you lock eyes with him as he slowly continues to work you with his hand. his face is unreadable, but his eyes blaze with intensity. he brings his other hand up to your mouth, slowly sliding two fingers past your lips. “suck,” he commands softly, his voice low and sultry.

you obey, your tongue swirling around his fingers, tasting yourself on him. the sensation makes your cheeks flush as you feel the heat rise within you. “mmm, sylus,” you murmur around his fingers, the name spilling from your lips, filled with longing. he watches you closely, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with approval. the way he looks at you makes you feel both exposed and exhilarated. you continue to suck on his fingers, drawing them deeper into your mouth, trying to please him as much as he pleases you.

as you do this, he quickens the pace of his fingers inside you, moving with purpose. every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you moan around his fingers, the sound muffled but filled with longing.

“that’s right,” he encourages. “let me hear you.”

the combination of your soft moans and the way he works you sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy. you can already feel the tension building inside you, tightening with every movement. it’s intoxicating, the way he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and how to push you closer to the edge.

he grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “keep going, sweetheart,” he urges, his voice a low rumble. “i want to see you lose control.”

“i... i can’t hold on much longer,” you confess, feeling your body tense and quiver with anticipation. the world around you fades as all you can focus on is the pleasure he gives you, making you feel alive and wanted.

his eyes flash with hunger as he watches you unravel, your desperate moans and the way your body trembles igniting a primal urge within him. he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot, determined to push you over the edge. he pumps his fingers into you once more, his palm pressing against you as his hand works between your legs. his other hand pulls away from your mouth, instead gently caressing your cheek. his touch is tender, a stark contrast to the way he’s working your body. with a final, firm stroke, he tips you over the precipice. you shatter, your back arching as waves of intense pleasure wash over you. he silences your cute cries with his lips, kissing you deeply as you convulse around his fingers.

his tongue tangles with yours, swallowing your cries as he draws out your release, his fingers continuing to move inside you, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body. he breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he gazes into your eyes, mesmerized by the vulnerability and raw passion he finds there. slowly, he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze. he savors the taste of your essence, his tongue swirling around his fingers as he maintains intense eye contact. a low, approving growl rumbles in his chest at your exquisite flavor. “you taste divine, my dear.”

you barely manage to breathe, your bare chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. his gaze then drops to your heaving chest, admiring the way your full breasts rise and fall. he reaches out, gently cupping one in his large hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. “and these pillows of mine,” he murmurs, “they’re absolutely beautiful.”

he lifts your breast, his thumb continuing to tease the nipple as he leans in to capture it between his lips. he sucks gently, his tiny fangs grazing the sensitive flesh before he releases it with a soft pop. “so perfect for me to play with.”

he switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. his free hand reaches out to gently pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. “and these cute little nubs,” he murmurs against your breast, “they’re just begging to be played with as well.”

“s-sy!” you whimper, your cheeks flushing with warmth as you playfully swat at his chest, feeling a mix of embarrassment and submission.

with one swift, fluid motion, he removes your soaked panties, leaving you bare before him. his eyes darkens as he took in the sight of you, laid out on his desk, your skin flushed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. the hunger in his gaze was almost predatory, and you shivered beneath the weight of it.

a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, even though you could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing faintly between your legs. and no, it’s not just a want anymore.

it’s a need.

the need, the aching desire for him, was only growing stronger. he knew exactly how to make you come undone.

“sy…” you whisper, your voice a mix of exhaustion and need. you reach out, your fingers brushing over the sharp lines of his chest as you tried to pull him closer, your body already craving the press of his weight against you. “please… i want you inside me.”

his gaze flickers up to meet yours, his irises swirling with unbridled hunger and desire. his broad chest heaves with a deep inhalation, as if he was trying to draw your scent into his very soul. his fangs descend, his eyes flickering red as the scent of your arousal and the sound of your plea stoked the fire of his hunger.

“my sweet, desperate kitten.” he chuckles darkly, his fingertips tracing up your inner thigh before he gently slipped a finger inside you, testing your readiness. he hummed against your thigh, his breath hot and tantalizing against your damp flesh. his fingers trace up and down your folds, gently exploring as he watches your reactions.

your hips buck against his fingers, desperate for more friction. you muffle your moans with the back of your hand. “p-please, sylus... i-i need... i need more...”

his smirk deepened, a glint of satisfaction flashing in his crimson eyes. “such a good girl when you ask so sweetly,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your waist, brushing your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw hunger burning between the two of you.

he slowly removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty and aching. he rises to his knees, his eyes locked onto yours. “think it’s time to give you exactly what you've been craving,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

sylus slowly sheds his clothing, his eyes never leaving yours, and each inch of his body revealed only makes the fire inside you burn hotter. the sculpted muscles of his chest, the firm ridges of his abs, the silver trail of hair that leads lower—all of it is designed to drive you wild. his presence is overwhelming, his dominance palpable, and yet there is something undeniably intimate in the way he undresses before you, his gaze softening just enough to let you see the depth of his desire.

his hands trail over his own body, his touch almost reverent as he reaches for the belt on his pants before unbuckling it then slowly unzips, pushing them down his hips. his manhood juts out—hard, thick and heavy—the tip already glistening. he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a slow, purposeful stroke.

it’s been a while since you and sylus shared an intimate moment together, so the longing between you both has only grown. with the time apart, every small touch, look, and kiss now feels even stronger, like there’s a build-up you can’t ignore. the excitement is thicker, and there’s this unspoken eagerness to reconnect. you can feel the tension between you, each moment making the anticipation even harder to resist as both of you are pulled back together.

you remember the last time you were together, the warmth of his body pressed so close to yours, every touch lingering like it was meant to last forever. in that moment, his hands had explored every inch of you, memorizing every curve and line as if he couldn’t bear to forget. his voice, soft and deep, had whispered your name like it was something precious, each kiss leaving you feeling cherished and entirely his.

the memory sends a wave of warmth through you, making the present even more intense as you realize how much you missed this closeness. now, with him here again, that same longing stirs inside you, stronger and more eager than before.

when sylus is finally bare, he steps closer, his hands gripping your thighs and parting them even wider. the head of his erection brushes against your core, and you gasp, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “look at me,” he orders softly, his hand sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up so you are forced to meet his red eyes.

the intensity of his gaze sends shivers down your spine. you can see the hunger burning within him, a dark desire that makes your heart race. “i want you to remember this moment,” he continues, his voice low and smooth. “i want you to feel every inch of me inside you.”

you can barely find your voice as you whisper, “i want that too.” the words come out in a breathy rush, your excitement mixing with nervousness.

he brushes a thumb over your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. “good. because waiting has made me even hungrier for you.” he leans closer, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin, making you tremble. “tell me what you need.”

you swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “i need you… now,” you finally say, your voice firmer than before. the words come out almost like a plea, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“that’s my girl,” he replies, his voice thick with desire. he presses the tip of his erection against your entrance, teasing you just enough to make your body ache with need. “are you ready?” he asks, his voice low.

“yes, please,” you respond, feeling the heat in your cheeks. you can’t help but feel a little shy, but his presence makes you feel safe. he gives you a wicked smile, the corners of his mouth curling up in a way that sends a thrill through you.

“good.”

sylus shifts, his hips settling between your thighs, and you could feel the hardness of him pressing against your entrance, slick with your need. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling beneath him as you wait for him to finally take you.

and then he did.

with one slow, deliberate thrust, sylus sinks into you, the stretch of him filling you completely, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. your mouth fall open in a soundless gasp, your nails digging into his back as he fills you inch by agonizing inch. he is big—almost too much—but the delicious pressure was exactly what you needed, the perfect combination of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

“fuck…” sylus groans, his voice rough and thick as he buries himself more to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against yours. he pauses there, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he gave you a moment to adjust, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

“how does that feel?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear. the sensation is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. you whimper softly, your back arching instinctively as he fills you, stretching you perfectly.

oh, horrendously big it hurts.

very enjoyable, however.

“i-i can’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “it... h-hurts.”

his body tensed as he slowly pushed forward, his thick length filling you inch by delicious inch. “relax, my love,” he promises, his thumb caressing your cheek as he watches your face for any sign of discomfort. “you can take me, you were made for me,”

he begins to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he thrusts deep inside your welcoming heat. each powerful stroke stretches you deliciously, filling you completely. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he claimed you thoroughly. “you can handle it,”

your heart pound at his words, your body responding with a fresh flood of arousal as you nod submissively, too breathless to speak.

with each pass of his hips, he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out in pleasure, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely—it is intoxicating. you could feel every pulse of him, every twitch, and it make you desperate for more. he leans down to capture your luscious mouth with his own, kissing you deeply as he continues to move within you. his pace quickens, his breathing growing harsher with each passing moment. “you feel so good,” he hisses against your lips, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

it was almost too much—yet not enough. you want more. you need more. “faster, baby…��� you gasp, your hips bucking up against his, desperate for him to give you what you crave.

his face contorts with passion, a guttural growl echoing from his chest as he speeds up his rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. the sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, accompanied by your moans and his ragged breath. “like that, love?”

you nod eagerly, your fingers digging into his back, your nails scoring his skin. the pleasure is almost too much to bear, the sensation of him moving inside you so intense that your vision begins to swim. he leans down and sinks his teeth gently into your shoulder, making you. the gentle pain pushing you right over the edge.

“more?” he rasps, his fingers sliding down your body to find that sweet swollen nub between your legs. as he pounds deep inside you, he begins to circle it with his fingertips, coaxing you closer to release. his crimson eyes burn into yours.

you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your breath hot against his skin. “s-sylus... i’m so close.”

with that, his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers working you into a frenzy as he continues to thrust hard and fast. he can feel you tensing around him, hear your breath hitching in your throat. “look at me,” he commands softly, his voice laced with dark promise. “i want to watch every expression on your beautiful face as you reach your peak.”

with great effort, you lift your head and lock eyes with him. his face is a mask of concentration, his red irises are dilated, his pupils blown wide with passion. his gaze bores into yours, intense and demanding. one hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he slams into you, while the other continues its torturous circles.

“sy—!” you are close. so close.

as the pleasure becomes too much, you finally reach the brink, his name spills from your lips like a prayer, your back arching, your nails digging into his flesh, a tidal wave of sensation that leaves you trembling beneath him.

his own control shatters at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. his expression tightens, jaw clenched and little fangs bared as he continues to drive into you, his hips moving like a piston. the hand on your hip slides down to grip your jiggly thigh, hiking it higher around his waist as he growls, “that’s it, love. milk me dry.”

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin as his movements become jerky, his tempo faltering.

then, without warning, sylus’s strong hands are on you in an instant, flipping you onto your stomach with an effortless motion. before you could even process what is happening, he is now behind you, pulling your hips up so that you were on all fours, your bare chest pressing into the cold surface of his desk and your ass raised high for him as you stand on his shoes on your tiptoes. his deep voice drips with dominance as he growls, “stay there, hands planted flat on my desk, back arched... just like that.” his hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing your backside before spreading your cheeks apart to reveal you to his heated gaze.

“sy…” you moan, your body responding instantly to the new position. you could already feel yourself throbbing with need again, the ache between your thighs demanding more of him.

he admires the view for a moment, taking in the sight of your pale, vulnerable ass presented to him. “don’t move.” he rasps, his voice hoarse from exertion. his hands roam freely over your curves, tracing the curve of your backside before giving your ass a light slap. his long fingers trail down your spine, tracing each vertebrae. “you look so beautiful like this.”

you moan, biting your lip in response.

he leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, his touch gentle yet firm. his fingers continue to caress and pet you, slowly parting your sweet cheeks again. his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, so exposed, so vulnerable. his touch becomes more intimate, his fingers parting your flesh once more to toy with the sensitive pucker hidden between your cheeks. you gasp at the sudden, new sensation, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of his desk. “sylus...”

he chuckles darkly at your needy whimper, the sound vibrating against your skin. “shhh, just feel...” he hums against your spine, the vibration sending shivers through your body. his fingers continue to tease your ass, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive flesh. “let me worship you like this for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr. his fingers continue their teasing exploration, circling your tight hole with maddening slowness before pressing inside ever so slightly, breaching you with a low groan.

he slowly works his thumb deeper, his other hand coming up to splay across your lower back, holding you in place as he claims your body inch by tantalizing inch. you feel so tight, so perfect around him. “mm, you take my finger so well, m’love.”

with his thumb still inside your butthole, sylus uses his other hand to guide his big cock to your entrance, the thick head sliding through your slick folds with ease. your breath hitched in anticipation, your body already quivering as you wait for him to fill you again.

he teases the swollen head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. the tip catches on your entrance with each pass, promising penetration. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he growls, giving your ass a sharp smack, causing you to squeal.

“syyy!” you huff, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure begins to build inside you.

he slowly starts to push into you, his thick head stretching you wide, his thumb moving in tandem to stretch you even further. “i’m going to fill you completely, satisfying every inch of this needy little space.”

oh god.

the sensation of being filled in both holes is overwhelming, even deeper than before, is overwhelming. you let out a desperate, mewling cry, your fingers clawing at the desk beneath you as your body adjusts to the new angle, the stretch even stronger like this. his one hand on your hips hold you firmly, keeping you in place as he moves deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

the new angle allows him to go deeper, the head of his cock brushing against a spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, it feel like he is reaching parts of you that had never been touched before, and the pleasure is almost too much to bear.

his pace quickens, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself to the hilt within you. the dual sensation of him filling both holes drives you to the brink of madness. you can’t help but push back against him, silently begging for more. your moans fill the room, making him want you even more. sylus’s thrusts grow harder and faster, each one stronger than the last. his hips press against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. the sound of your bodies, the warmth between your thighs, and the heavy breaths you both take—it all comes together in a rush of pure need and desire.

“look at you, taking me so well,” sylus growls, his voice filled with approval as he watches your body move under him. his hands then glide up your sides, moving over your waist and back, before tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back. this makes your back arch even more. “such a good little slut for me.”

his words send a thrill of heat straight to your core, and you can’t hold back the desperate moan that escapes your lips. your body is on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as sylus continues to pound into you from behind, his cock filling you over and over again with an intensity that makes your knees weak. with each powerful thrust, the pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling tightly in your core like a spring ready to snap. sylus’s hand tightens in your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you even closer as he grinds into you with hard, deliberate strokes. his free hand reaches down to grab one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing it roughly as he continues to fuck you mercilessly from behind. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and index finger as he growls in your ear, causing you to moan in pleasure. “fuck, just look at those tits bouncing around, baby...”

he smirks at your desperate moan, loving how he can make your body react so intensely to his touch. how cute. his hips snap forward again and again, his thick cock stretching you open and hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

his gaze fixes on your bouncing tits, his eyes burning with a feral hunger. he suddenly pulls out of you and carries you off the desk, finally pinning you against the nearest wall. he spins you around and grabs your legs and throws them over his arms, his cock slamming back into you with brutal force.

holy fuck.

“oh god…” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure builds inside you once more. you can feel another orgasm approaching, your body teetering on the edge of bliss, and you know it won’t take much to push you over.

his strong arms hold onto your thighs as he lifts you higher, his hips bucking against yours as he drives into you with raw, animalistic need. his face is buried between your breasts, and he growls like a beast, the vibration against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

his fangs graze over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before he latches onto your breast, sucking hungrily. mmh, so good. his body rocks into yours, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his body grinding against yours as he buries himself deep inside you.

“come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice low and demanding, muffling against your skin. “i want to feel you come around my cock again.”

his mouth stays latched onto your breast, sucking and nibbling as he continues to fuck you against the wall. the combination of his mouth on your tits, his cock pounding into you, and his arms holding your legs up is too much for your body to handle.

as you reach your climax, your inner walls clench tightly around his throbbing cock. he lets out a satisfied groan, his teeth biting gently into your breast as he sucks in your sweet skin. his hips continue to piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging the intense pleasure. his own release barrels through him moments later, his face contorting in ecstasy as he buries his face in your cleavage and roars out his pleasure. his arms tighten around you, his whole body shuddering against yours as he spills himself inside you, their combined fluids dripping down his balls. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy, labored breathing of both of you, your bodies still shaking after your intense release. sylus holds you close, pulling you against his strong chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively as you both stay in the dark, your bodies still tangled together.

slowly, he lets your legs down, his arms still wrapping around you to support your boneless body. he nuzzles into your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone. “mine,” he murmurs possessively, his voice laced with satisfaction. carrying you to his desk, he gently sits you down and pulling you into his embrace. his hands roam over your body, caressing your curves with gentle affection. “no one else will ever touch you like this. you are my soulmate, my beloved.”

you melt into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his silky silver hair as you pull his face to yours for a gentle, loving kiss. “and i am yours, forever and always,” you whisper against his soft lips, your heart brimming with love and devotion for the ‘dracula’ who stole your heart since the day you met him.

with a soft smile, sylus gently carries you to the bathroom, cradling you in his arms like a precious princess before removing the fake vampire fangs that both of you wore—along with your high heels.

“let’s get you cleaned up, my love.” he sets you down on the edge of the massive shower, turning on the rain shower head and adjusting the temperature. the warm water begins to cascade down, creating a soothing mist around you. sylus steps in with you, pulling you close so you feel his body heat. he runs his fingers through your hair, the gentle touch calming you as the water washes over both of you.

“are you feeling sore, my love?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

“a-a little,” you admit, feeling shy, wincing a little as you shift. it’s true; the experience was intense, leaving you with a pleasant ache. “but it was worth it.”

he chuckles, clearly finding your response cute. “you are such a brave kitten,” he says, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “i admire your strength.”

the water glistens on your skin as he moves down to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your body. every touch sends small shivers through you, and although you feel sore, his movements are gentle and soothing.

after a few moments, he steps back and takes a look at you, his expression softening. “you are so beautiful,” he says, his voice filled with awe. you smile shyly, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you like a soft blanket.

as the shower continues to rain down, sylus pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. you rest your head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. it feels safe and comforting.

sigh.

“i love moments like this,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “just you and me, away from the world.”

“me too,” you whisper back, feeling a sense of peace wash over you despite the lingering soreness.

he tilts your chin up gently so you meet his eyes. “i want to take care of you always,” he promises, his gaze serious but warm. “you are my everything.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth in your chest. “and you are mine,” you reply softly.

as the water continues to flow, he leans in and kisses your forehead gently, a sweet gesture that makes your heart flutter.

after a while, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in soft towels. as you step into sylus’s massive closet, the walls are lined with perfectly organized clothes, shoes, and accessories. the light from the elegant chandelier casts a warm glow, making everything feel cozy despite the opulence surrounding you.

“feel free to pick anything you like,” he says, his tone stoic but with a hint of playfulness as he watches you browse through the neatly arranged clothing. “though i doubt anything will fit you as well as my shirt.”

you chuckle, appreciating his teasing nature. “well, i’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, pulling out a few pieces, including a pair of his boxers. you can’t help but smile at how big they are compared to your small figure.

sylus raises an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “are you sure you can handle all that fabric? you might get lost in it,” he teases, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the closet door in a way that exudes both confidence and charm.

“i think i’ll manage,” you say playfully, deciding to slip into the oversized shirt first. as you pull it over your head, you feel the soft fabric drape over you, engulfing your body. it’s comically large, and you can’t help but laugh as it falls past your hips, almost like a dress.

“you look like you raided my wardrobe,” he quips, his voice smooth yet playful as he takes in the sight of you in his shirt. “a very cute burglar, i must say.”

“maybe i’m just here to steal your heart,” you say with a wink, feeling confident in your playful banter.

“clever, but i think you’ve already succeeded in that regard,” he replies, his gaze softening slightly, though he maintains a stoic facade. “now, let’s see what else you can find.”

you rummage through the boxers, holding up a pair that’s comically large. “do you think these will work?” you ask, smirking at him.

“they’ll definitely work. in fact, i might be a little jealous,” he says, feigning seriousness. “but i suppose i can let it slide this time.”

after a few more moments of playful teasing, you finally change into the boxers, feeling even more comfortable. you step back to face him, striking a playful pose. “how do i look now?”

“like you belong in my closet,” he responds, his voice steady yet playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “though i must say, you should have the decency to keep your eyes on me instead of my clothes.”

“and why is that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“because,” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “i’m the one who wants to see your pretty little face when you wear my clothes.”

you blush at his words, and despite the teasing, there’s something undeniably sincere in his gaze.

“now, how about we get back to that cozy spot in the living room?” he suggests, motioning toward the door.

with a smile, you nod, feeling a warm sense of connection as you both leave the lavish closet behind. sylus leads you to the living room, where he has prepared a little cozy setup with blankets and pillows. “i thought we could have a little halloween movie night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

you beam at him, feeling grateful for the thoughtful surprise. “that sounds perfect,” you reply, snuggling into the pile of blankets he made for you. sylus settles in beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

he picks out a classic horror movie, and as the opening credits roll, you can’t help but glance up at him. “are you scared?” you tease, noticing how he looks slightly more serious than usual.

“me? scared? never,” he replies with mock bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. “but i will protect you if it gets too intense.”

you laugh, feeling warm and safe next to him. the movie plays on, but every so often, you steal glances at sylus, admiring how comfortable and warm he feels against you. the tension from earlier has melted away, leaving only warmth and affection between the two of you. as the plot thickens and the jump scares come, you find yourself leaning closer to sylus, burying your face in his shoulder during the most suspenseful scenes. he chuckles softly, holding you tighter, his fingers brushing through your hair. “it’s just a movie,” he reminds you gently, but you can hear the playful note in his voice.

after a few movies, you both take a break, sitting in comfortable silence as you munch on halloween-themed snacks he prepared—pumpkin cookies and candy corn. “this is the best halloween ever,” you say, a content smile on your face.

“i agree,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “being with you makes everything better.”

as the night goes on, the atmosphere feels intimate and special. you feel a sense of closeness that only deepens with every laugh and shared moment. when the clock strikes midnight, sylus leans closer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. it feels soft and gentle, filled with the warmth of the connection you both share.

“happy halloween, my love,” he whispers against your lips, a soft smile gracing his features.

“happy halloween, sylus. thank you for tonight,” you reply, your heart fluttering at the sweetness of the moment.

“i guess we really made this halloween unforgettable,” he adds, a teasing smirk on his lips.

you laugh lightly, nodding in agreement. “definitely unforgettable.”

with a soft laugh, he pulls you back into the warmth of his embrace. “here’s to many more halloweens together,” he says, his voice filled with promise as you both sink into the comfort of each other, knowing this night will be a cherished memory for years to come.

the end.

hi, thanks for reading all the way to the end! your support means so much to me. i hope you enjoyed this halloween oneshot! feel free to leave your thoughts or feedback; i’d love to hear from you! <3

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Of All the Gin Joints in All the Towns in All the World, She Walks Into Mine | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hey! It's been A WHILE. I have been VERY busy but I am back! May I offer you some fluff in this trying time? Also, can you clock the two Casablanca references in this one?

Word Count: 16.2k

Warnings: drinking, light violence, some blood, minor reader injury

Loud, raucous music- music you’d never choose to listen to- poured out onto the street. Men in stained t-shirts and ripped jeans stood outside, smoking cigarettes and nursing beers. A line of beat-up motorcycles stood at attention, fencing off the bar from the rest of the street. 

And you couldn’t believe you were willingly setting foot inside this place. 

A flickering neon sign reading LUCKY’S was displayed just above the door. And much like the bar itself, it had seen better days. This wasn’t your type of place, nor was it an establishment you’d ever consider making your regular haunt. 

But you were in desperate need of a drink, and every other bar you passed on your way home from work made you roll your eyes. They were all too snooty, too pretentious. They were the kind of places whose bartenders would shoot you a sideways glance if you ordered a domestic beer instead of one of their outlandish signature cocktails. And you’d had more than your fair share pointed glances for the day. 

The front door of this fine establishment, with its rowdy patrons and sticky floors, stood propped open with a cinderblock, welcoming you in. The stench of sweat and stale beer wafted toward you the moment you crossed the threshold. And at least three different guys wolf-whistled at you as you strode past them. But the promise of alcohol kept you from turning on your heel and running for the door.

Just as you were nearing the bar, a wall of muscle knocked you sideways. It wasn’t surprising that someone might bump into you in an unruly place like this- but what did surprise you was the way the perpetrator instantly and genuinely apologized. He caught you before you could hit the floor and righted your posture, making sure you were steady on your feet before he let go.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to run into you,” a deep, warm voice said. “That’s my bad. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you alright?” 

Something about that voice pulled your attention. There was a familiarity to it, a certain quality that you swore you’d heard before- but you couldn’t quite place it amongst the noise of the bar. 

You did your best to regain your balance and catch the strap of your bag as it slid off your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, it’s-” And when you finally looked up, you realized why this stranger’s voice was so damn familiar. “Oh, hey, neighbor.” 

Bucky did a double take. He’d been so concerned about possibly injuring someone that he hadn’t even realized it was you. But he’d know your warm smile and the lilt of your voice anywhere. 

When he’d moved in next door to you, you’d been the first- and only- person in the building to welcome him. You brought a plate of cookies, introduced yourself, and gave him the rundown of everything he needed to know about the building. How to get the water to stay hot. How to steer clear of the landlord’s wrath. Which tenants to avoid like the plague.

He stood there, listening intently and making mental notes of your tips and tricks, though he didn’t remember much. He found you too enchanting to commit anything other than your name and face to memory. You were so sweet, so pleasant to be around. He couldn’t believe he’d made a friend on his first day in a new building. Though, he supposed ‘friend’ was too generous a word. You barely knew each other, and there was plenty in his history to scare off any mostly sane person. Still, he counted it as a win. 

The second time he saw you around the building, you addressed him by his proper title, Sergeant, and he knew the jig was up. He knew it would be the last time you ever spoke to him, and that you’d never knock on his door again. He thought you might even move units. But much to his surprise, you remained friendly and warm toward him. And though he didn’t know you well, he thought of you as a comfort. It was nice knowing that he had someone outside of his coworkers. Someone right next door.

He made small talk with you any chance he could and even assisted with your grocery bags on an occasion or two. There was something about you, some undeniable light that he couldn’t get enough of. And even though your run-ins were few and far between, he found himself entranced by you. After a few months, the word “friend’ felt fitting. He even heard you refer to him as such as you spoke on the phone with your mom. And he rode that high for weeks.

On rare nights when you picked up a late shift and worked until the wee hours of the morning, you’d sometimes find a trail of his blood leading from the elevator to his door. And without hesitation, you always offered to stitch him up. 

But it took him quite a long time to take you up on such a proposal, as he never wanted to take advantage of your kindness. And so, he opted to thank you for your generosity before gently rejecting your offer. He promised he could take care of things himself, and that he’d heal in no time- even without proper medical intervention. 

But after he tried and failed for almost two hours to stitch closed a deep gash on his back, he finally asked for your help. He knocked on your door with what little energy he had left and apologized profusely for bothering you so late on a Sunday night. But you shed your sleepy stupor and immediately welcomed him inside. 

Without so much as a complaint or a sigh, you took care of his wound. He was shocked by how quick, how painless, your stitches were. You cleaned and closed his bloody gash without hurting him; it was a novel experience.

When you finished the job, he thanked you endlessly every chance he could.

But that was the extent of your relationship. He always saw you as an unreachable, intangible star. Too bright. Too far away. Too high above him. He knew, without a doubt, that you were too good to be associated with him. Why would you, a doctor, want to hang out with someone like him? What could he ever offer you?

“Hey, neighbor,” he quipped back. He was so pleased to see you, so pleasantly surprised. “Funny running into you here, I-” 

And just like that, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. The pleasant part of the surprise melted away, revealing the truth of the situation. He eyed the grimy bar and its crowd of hardened regulars, and then snapped his gaze back to you. One of these things was not like the others, one of these things did not belong- and that one thing was you. 

“Wait- what are you doing here?”

“I was on my way home from work and needed a drink, so I decided to duck in here,” you said. “Is that not allowed?”

“No, it’s allowed, it’s just- you decided to duck in here? This is a pretty rough joint.” Once again, Bucky scanned the bar. He the clocked broken glass, the intimidating group of men arguing near the pool table; he swore there was dried blood on the floor. This was no place for you. “You should probably get a drink somewhere else. Don’t you think?”

You shrugged, “I mean, it’s close to our building. And after the day I had, I really don’t care about ambiance. I just want a beer.” 

Bucky let out a quiet laugh. You provided such stark contrast to the rest of the people crowding the bar. There you stood in your light blue scrubs, hair tied back neatly in braids, with your hospital badge still dangling from your shirt. This was not the venue for you, and Bucky wished you’d head somewhere safer. But selfishly, he was happy you ducked into Lucky’s. Happy to see you.

“I’m just saying, this isn’t really the kind of place where doctors hang out-”

“I’m not a doctor,” you extended your hospital ID in his direction and gave him a moment to examine it before your badge reel to snapped it back into place. “I’m a physician’s assistant.” 

He shot you an eye roll but couldn’t stop himself from cracking a smile. “Okay, okay- then this isn’t the type of place where PAs hang out. So, I think-”

You held up a hand, silencing him, “Barnes.”

He caught himself blushing. Was this your way of giving him a nickname? Were the two of you closer than he thought? His heart pounded with excitement, but sank when he remembered: Barnes was his name. This wasn’t some clever new term of endearment you’d cooked up. His smile fell a fraction of an inch.

“Is there alcohol here?” you asked.

He gave a fervent nod. 

“Then this is exactly the kind of place where PAs hang out- well, this PA at least,” you told him. “And if this place is so rough and dangerous,” you teased, “What are you doing here?”

Sure, he came home bloody and bruised more times than you could count. But he wasn’t threatening. He wasn’t aggressive. He was always so sweet, so gentle. He always fed the stray cat that hung around outside your building. And when he finally won her trust, it was all he talked about. 

And if you didn’t fit in among the riff raff populating this bar, then neither did he. 

Your words caught Bucky off guard. Was it really possible that you didn’t see him as a lowlife? That you didn’t think he was scary?  He firmly believed that he fit right in amongst the delinquents and outlaws crowding this bar- even if he didn’t want to.

But to you, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

A grimace pulled at Bucky’s features. Suddenly, he regretted having this chat with you. He cut his glance to the side and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I um, I work here, actually…” He felt his face blaze red with embarrassment.  

He feared you might snicker a bit. Might cringe. Might even leave. But you didn’t; he knew you wouldn’t. You were too kind to ever treat him- or anyone- that way. You simply cocked your head to the side and delivered a quizzical look his way.

“Oh, I- my bad, I thought you were doing, like… superhero stuff,” you said.

Bucky gave a shake of his head, “I can’t- not yet, anyway. I have to wait for my, um-” The humiliation threatened to force his throat closed. He cleared it for a second or two before admitting his truth. “For my pardon to clear first.”

Bucky watched the gears turn inside your head. Your eyes narrowed; your brow furrowed. You opened your mouth and then snapped it shut, allowing yourself more time to think. But things simply didn’t add up. 

“So… you’re a bartender who comes home covered in blood and knife wounds every night? I know the tips are good, but they can’t be that good.”

“I’m not a bartender, I’m the, uh-” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, “I’m the bouncer- I’m one of the bouncers.”

He hated it. He hated being the muscle. Hated being the enforcer. Hated being the one management called when they wanted someone punished. This wasn’t at all what he imagined when he returned to the city, returned to himself. He’d hoped for a little peace as he rediscovered New York. Hoped that people would stop cowering in fear when he was around. But those hopes were dashed.

The small sum of money awarded to him as part of his POW benefits dwindled quickly, and he needed a source of income. The city had gotten expensive- very expensive- since he last lived there. He couldn’t believe the cost of groceries. Rent. And he couldn’t bum on Sam’s couch forever. So, he found the cheapest apartment he could and started looking for a job.

But most places had no interest in hiring the ex-Winter Solider; they ordered him out before he could even hand over his information. And even if those places were willing to take a chance on him, his resume wasn’t exactly up to date. His last job, prior to his time in the military, was in 1941. 

The only place that didn’t seem to care about his background was the shitty dive bar five blocks from your shared apartment building. It wasn’t ideal, but he knew that beggars don’t have the luxury of being choosers- and he was begging.

“Oh, okay, that makes more sense. I was-” You rolled your eyes, “Oh, I feel so stupid. I’ve been making comments about your hero work every time I patch you up! I just assumed that’s where you got all those gnarly wounds.” Your palm met your forehead, “Wow, I’m an idiot.”  

Bucky let out a soft laugh. “No, no, you’re definitely not an idiot. I just didn’t correct you, cause,” he shrugged. “It’s a little embarrassing. I know this isn’t as noble as ‘superhero stuff’,” he said, quoting you. “I mean, breaking up bar fights isn’t exactly the same as saving the world.”

You shrugged, “Says who? You’re saving people from making drunken asses of themselves, which is still pretty important.” You shot him a wink. 

A warm smile cracked through Bucky’s embarrassment. He wondered why everyone couldn’t be as accepting as you. Why people chose to be judgmental and unkind. Your openness filled him with hope. With warmth. 

He opened his mouth to speak but an interruption halted his words.

A tall, broad-shouldered man barked Bucky’s name from across the bar. He gestured toward two men near the back wall who’d just started brawling and ordered him to get back to work. He strung together a long line or expletives and unkind names and hurled them at Bucky. And though Bucky towered over you- and everyone else inside the bar- he seemed smaller as he took each verbal hit.

Contempt twisted your features into a look of disgust. People were always so rude to Bucky. So callous and cruel and hateful. You couldn’t stand it. He didn’t choose to do the things he did, he didn’t choose to work for Hydra. He was a victim. But the world chose to forget about that part of his story. They, instead, focused on his ruthless kills. News outlets and online creators always played up the cold, psycho-killer angle, knowing damn well that sympathy doesn’t sell.

“I’m sorry, I have to go take care of that,” Bucky gestured toward the two men engaging in fisticuffs. “I’d really like to keep talking with you, but I-”

He could’ve sworn he saw a hint of disappointment flicker across your face. 

“I get it. I don’t want you to get in trouble, Barnes,” you nudged his shoulder with yours, “go on, do what you gotta do. I’ll be at the bar.”

Bucky watched you disappear amongst the throngs of sweaty, boisterous bar patrons. He still couldn’t believe that you, of all people, dropped into a place like this. That you didn’t mind the noise or the violence or the stench. And he found it even harder to believe that you didn’t judge his situation. That you gave him so much grace. That you actually looked disappointed when he said he had to step away. 

When you finished your drink and set off for home, Bucky wanted to give you a proper goodbye. He wanted to walk you to the door- hell, he wanted to walk you to your apartment. But a large group of drunk guys had decided to get into a knockdown, drag out fistfight over a game of darts, and it was Bucky’s job to make sure they didn’t kill each other. Still, even as he was pulling the unruly men off each other, he watched you leave. 

He tracked your scrubs from the bar, across the room, and toward the door. And just as you were about to step out into the night, he could’ve sworn he caught you looking for him. He watched your eyes drift through the sea of people, inspecting each face in search of his. He felt his lips stretch into a smile, even as aggressive drunkards threw punches his way.

He called your name, his booming voice breaking through the music, the noise of the fight. Instantly, your eyes met his across the room. He gave you a warm, genuine smile, and waved like an excited child. You returned his enthusiastic wave and shot him a wink. And then you were gone. 

But to Bucky’s delight- and equal dismay- you returned the following night. And the night after that. And the night after that. You returned so many nights, in fact, that the bartenders learned your drink of choice. The regulars saved you a seat. And the barbacks greeted you like a friend. Strangely enough, you found yourself in a Cheers situation, where everyone knew your name. 

“You know, this is like your twenty-fifth time here, sweetheart,” Bucky joked one night. He leaned against the bar as you sipped on a beer, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.”

“Yeah? And what if I am? What are you gonna do about it, Barnes?” A loud laugh escaped your chest as Bucky snagged your drink and stole a sip. “And if you want to talk about stalking, you’re the one counting my every visit to this godforsaken place.”

Bucky felt his cheeks flash red.

“So, who’s really stalking who here?” You won back your beer and awarded yourself a sip for besting him. “Is it such a bad thing that I like hanging out with you?”

He tripped over his words, “Well, that was- I wasn’t counting, exactly… twenty-five was a guess. Kind of an approximation. So-”

“Uh-huh,” you nudged him with your shoulder. “Sure.”

In all honesty, Bucky was counting. And twenty-five had been a lowball. He figured that if he threw out an inaccurate number, he’d seem less desperate. Less obsessed with you. He didn’t want you to know that he was tallying your every visit to Lucky’s. Didn’t want you to know that you’d made his night for thirty-six nights in a row. 

Little did he know, he’d made the past thirty-six nights some of the best you’d ever had.

There was just something about him. Something so magnetic. So charming. So captivating. Being around him helped quiet the noise inside your mind. Helped you feel more like yourself. 

For your entire life, you found yourself lost in the past and overwhelmed by the future. Bucky, however, was present. He only ever allowed himself to exist in the current moment. And when he looked at you, when he spoke to you, he kept you anchored to the here and now.

Even with all his baggage and trauma, he was still so sweet. How did he manage that? How did he find it in him to be so kind when he’d been treated so terribly? And how was he still so fun to be around? Still so hilarious? If you’d been in his shoes, your personality would’ve been stripped from you ages ago. You’d be a husk of yourself. Cold. Unfeeling. Isolated. 

Maybe, you reasoned, he’d been that way immediately following his escape. Maybe he had to find his way back to the compassionate, gentle person he once was. Of course, he’d worked hard to regain his mind and his personhood. But you knew, without a doubt, that the warm, caring version of him was always there. No matter what Hydra did to him, they could never remove such an intrinsic piece of his soul.

And god, he was cute. Sharp cheekbones matched his sharp, stubbled jaw. His smile illuminated the entire room. And never before had you seen eyes that blue. Every time he looked your way, your cheeks burned. He filled you with the kind of nervous, smitten energy that you thought only existed in high school crushes.

You found yourself wanting- needing- to be around him all the time. But that proved easier said than done, as your schedules didn’t exactly line up. In fact, they existed in direct opposition of one another; you worked days, Bucky worked nights. When you woke up for work each morning, he was just getting ready for bed. 

About twice a week, the two of you would have one of your run-ins. One of your fleeting moments together. And while those short-lived visits filled you with an overwhelming rush of joy, it wasn’t enough. You were always jonesing for another dose.  

But once you realized that Bucky was only a few blocks away, spending his evenings in the dive bar you always avoided, a solution presented itself to you. The few hours between the end of your shift and your bedtime provided you with the perfect opportunity to see him. And you took it. 

Even if he could only talk with you for a few minutes at a time, even if he could only hang out with you between fights- it was better than nothing. At the apartment, you’d only see him every few days if you were lucky, and your conversations were always cut short. He didn’t want to make you late for work, and you didn’t want to keep him from some well-deserved rest.

But at Lucky’s, your talks weren’t truncated or limited to a quick, thirty-second catch up session. No, Bucky could post up next to you and the two of you could share a real conversation. Of course, he had to do his rounds and keep an eye on the patrons. But over the course of the night, the two of you could chat to your hearts’ content. You’d talk and laugh and enjoy the other’s company. And of course, you’d engage in some shameless flirting. 

And he did the same.

A few months after you started frequenting his place of work, you bid him goodnight as you always did. He walked you to the door and asked you to text him when you got back to your apartment, and the two of you shared a hug that felt like home. 

Every time you left Lucky’s, you missed him. It was an instantaneous, full body feeling that hit you the moment you left Bucky behind. And though you knew you’d see him the following evening, it felt like too long a wait. Like he was too far away. In an ideal world, he’d return home, and his key would open your door. In an ideal world, his boots would live in your closet. And in an Ideal world, he’d crawl into your bed as the sun peaked out from behind the skyscrapers.

But you knew you had to be patient. That ideal world would come one day; you just had to wait. 

That night, you flopped down into your bed with the same disappointment you experienced every night. And as you drifted off to sleep, you wished to see Bucky as soon as you possibly could.

Around two-thirty in the morning, you got your wish. After waking from a strange dream, you realized just how parched you were. You padded into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water, greedily downing it in a few gulps. With your thirst quenched, you prepared to return to your bedroom. But a strange sound caught your attention.

It echoed from the hall, and sounded as though it might have come from right outside your front door. A second, almost identical sound piqued your interest; it sounded human, almost like a grunt, maybe. And then it hit you.

It wasn’t a grunt, but a groan. The groan of someone in pain. The same groan you’d heard time and time again. The groan that rumbled out of Bucky’s chest each time he came home hurt. 

As fast as you could, you unlocked your door and threw it open. And there you found Bucky. He stood frozen, his eyes wide with surprise. He hadn’t expected anyone- hadn’t expected you- to be up at this hour.

In his left hand, he held what could only be a dirty bar rag against a wound on his cheek. But the rag did little to stop the bleeding, as it was already soaked through- and probably had been for a while. Blood dripped down his chin and trailed down his neck. It stained his shirt, his shoes, the floor. The knuckles of his right hand were slick with blood, as well. They were swollen and angry, and you could practically feel the throbbing of his broken bones.  “Um, hey,” he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across his face at the sight of you, but the movement of his facial muscles made him wince. “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“I was getting some water, and I heard- what the hell happened to you?” Concern pulled your brows together and made your voice thin. You hated seeing him covered in blood, hated when he was hurt. Regardless of the durability the serum granted him, knots still formed in your stomach every time he needed stitches.

“I’m alright, don’t worry about me,” he waved you off with his enflamed hand. “I’m just gonna go inside and sleep it off.”

While he loved spending time with you, and loved feeling your warm, capable hands work over his wounds, he couldn’t ask you for help. It was the middle of the night, for Christ’s sake. In only a few hours, you had to be up for work. And he wouldn’t dare keep you awake when you had a long day of saving lives ahead of you. No, he’d simply slip through his front door and take care of things himself, like he used to. It wasn’t ideal, but he’d survive.

His plan, however, was foiled in its earliest stages. 

The blood coating his right hand made his housekeys impossibly slippery, and his broken hand lacked the coordination necessary to keep hold of them. With a sharp, metallic sound, his bloody keys clattered to the floor. And before he could lean down to retrieve them, you’d already swept them into your grasp.

“Gotta be quicker than that, Barnes,” you shot him a wink and thrust the key into the lock, opening his door. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“That’s okay, I can handle it. You don’t have to-”

“Right,” you scoffed, “Cause I’m just gonna let you deal with this by yourself.” You gestured for him to head inside and rolled your eyes at his mere suggestion. “I swear, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

He remained firmly planted in the hall and let out a soft laugh that made his cheek throb. “I just know you have work in the morning, so I-”

As gently as you could, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Hush. Let me take care of you, okay? Go inside and have a seat on the couch, I’m gonna grab my kit.”

Bucky complied with a dopey smile plastered across his face. He wasn’t sure what had him so jovial- maybe it was the late-night visit from you, maybe it was the sight of you in your pajamas. But he knew deep down it was the concern in your voice; you actually cared about him. He didn’t relish in making you worry, but selfishly, he liked knowing he mattered to you.

If only he knew to what extent. 

The two of you sat on Bucky’s couch in his sparsely decorated apartment, and he allowed you a look at the wound on his face. It was deeper than you thought, slicing down into the meat of his cheek. Blood still oozed steadily from the wide-open gash, even after he’d held pressure to it for quite a while. 

Again, concern seeped into your voice. “Shit, it’s worse than I thought.” Of course, the serum would have this wound healed in the blink of an eye- and there’d be no scar to speak of. But he didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Didn’t deserve to be hurt again. 

After getting a good look at his wound, you dug through your kit and fished out the supplies necessary to stitch it shut. “How’d this happen?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. He was so fed up with this job, so over the drunken antics of the bar’s rowdy customers. “Well, there was a fight- shocking, I know,” he quipped. “And one of the guys pulled a knife. He slashed at me, and-”

“I wouldn’t call this a ‘slash’,” your words took on an incredulous tone, and you placed the first stitch. “It’s waytoo deep to be a ‘slash’.”

Bucky threw you a roll of his eyes, “Okay, fair enough. But it’s not that bad. And it’ll be gone before you know it.” A sudden wave of guilt crashed around him. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. He leaned away ever so slightly, “I feel bad, you shouldn’t even be doing this. I’ll be fine- this is a huge waste of your time.” He sighed, “You should be sleeping, I-”

Once again, you shushed him. With expert hands, you finished his second stitch and moved onto his third. “This is not a waste of my time. Come on, you know I don’t mind patching you up.” A quiet laugh fell from your lips, “Any excuse to hang out with you, ya know?”

In that moment, something came over you. You weren’t sure what prompted you to do it; maybe it was the sight of Bucky covered in blood. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it made you press your lips to his temple, just above his wound. 

Warmth bloomed over Bucky’s skin, and suddenly, the gash in his cheek stopped throbbing. His knuckles stopped aching. And the world felt like a better, kinder place.

The rush of ecstasy that flooded your system halted all too soon, and regret followed close behind. The two of you didn’t touch each other that way. Hugs were the most intimate you’d ever been, and even something that innocent took time to achieve. Bucky wasn’t massively fond of physical touch, not yet anyway. Not after what he went through. 

Slowly but surely, he was getting more comfortable with it. And if you’d asked, he’d tell you he loved the sensation of your hands on his skin. But he’d never said it out loud. And there you were, possibly violating his boundaries.

With a shake of your head, you righted your mind and continued with the stitches.  “I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t have-”

Bucky shot you a smile, “Don’t be. I liked it.” He gave a shrug, “You know, most doctors don’t do that kind of thing, but I think they should. It makes for really excellent bedside manner.”

A breathy laugh rattled inside your chest, and you gave Bucky a gentle shove, “Would you cut it out? Let me finish.” 

The two of you sat in a warm, comfortable silence as you closed the rest of Bucky’s wound. There was something so cozy about the situation, regardless of the excessive amount of blood. It felt like the entire world was asleep, or that it ceased to exist altogether. Like only you and Bucky remained. And if that had been the case, neither of you would have minded. 

With the stitches finished, you gently cleaned the blood from his face, his neck, his hands. You carefully inspected the wounds on his knuckles and appraised the fractures spiderwebbing through his bones.

“So, am I gonna make it?” Bucky asked. “Or am I done for?”

“Well, it was touch and go there for a while, Barnes. But I think you’ll survive.”

An overly dramatic sigh of relief left his chest, and he pantomimed wiping sweat from his brow. “Thank god I live next door to a doctor, you’re a real lifesaver, sweetheart.”

“I’m not a doctor,” you corrected, “I’m-”

Bucky chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Close enough! You’re basically a doctor.” He paused, eyeing you for a long moment, “You know, I’ve been wondering. What are you doing living in a place like this?”

You dragged your gaze away from his broken hand, “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, our building is kind of a shithole.” 

You laugh echoed through his empty apartment, “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

Every other wall seemed to have tiny cracks veining through the sheetrock. Stains signaling water damage littered the ceiling. And an army of vermin tucked themselves safely inside the walls. The entire building had a grimy quality to it, stemming from the landlord’s decades of neglect. It was the only place Bucky could afford on his less than generous pay, but it never made sense why you chose to call such a dumpster fire ‘home’.

“I’ve got a mountain of student loans to pay back- PA school isn’t cheap.” You shrugged, “So, until I pay off all that shit, I’ll be here. But I don’t really mind,” you told him, “I’ve got good neighbors.” 

The wink you shot him nearly made him melt.  As he willed himself to regain his composure, you cautiously dabbed a piece of gauze against a bloody spot on his knuckle. He braced for the wave of pain that was sure to rocket through his mangled hand, but no such sensation came. 

He couldn’t believe how gently you touched him; he didn’t know such a thing was possible. After the way he’d been treated all those years, he forgot that humans could treat each other with softness. With compassion. Never once did you hurt him. Never once did you make him flinch. He felt completely and totally comfortable in your hands, as though pain were no longer possible. It was a sense of safety he hadn’t experienced in a lifetime.

Neither of you remembered falling asleep. After you’d helped rid Bucky of all the gore, the two of you ended up chatting, as you always did. It was like a bonus round, like a perfect extra dose of your favorite person. And you weren’t going to let it slip through your fingers. But time, did indeed, slip past you rather easily; neither of you even noticed the minutes tick by. And eventually, you both ended up dozing off.

Around five in the morning, Bucky came to. He had no recollection of passing out on the couch and struggled to find his reasoning for doing so. He almost stood up and headed for his bedroom, but the sound of soft, steady breathing stopped him. Slowly, he turned to his left and found your head leaning against his metal shoulder. 

He couldn’t believe you’d chosen it as your pillow. That you weren’t afraid to rest your cheek against the thing he hated most. The thing that made most people shrink away. Upon hiring him, his boss at Lucky’s asked him to wear only short sleeves at work. That way, people could see his arm. He wanted the unruly patrons to be intimidated, frightened by Bucky’s unique prosthetic. And it only made him feel worse about himself.

Goosebumps traveled up his spine and over his scalp as he took a moment to drink it all in.  You really did trust him, didn’t you? A small smile spread across his face at the thought. 

But another thought cut his joy short- there was simply no way you could be comfortable sleeping with your face pressed against cold metal. 

He knew he had to do something. Had to fix the situation. He’d already kept you up far too late and taken advantage of your kindness once again. Making you more comfortable was the least he could do.

He took a moment to formulate a plan for mitigating the issue. All he had to do was gently lift your head from his shoulder and allow you to rest on the couch cushion instead. It was simple, easy; he could manage it no problem. If he could assassinate public figures without anyone realizing he was ever there, he could move your head without waking you.

But as he snaked his right hand between your face the vibranium, a pained sound escaped his lips. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but in his haste to make you more comfortable, he’d forgotten about his broken hand.

A gasp filled your lungs as you bolted upright, your heart hammering against your ribs. It took a moment for you to place the apartment in the dim, early morning light. To remember how you ended up there. But Bucky’s presence assuaged any anxiety.

“Hey, sorry,” he flashed you an awkward smile, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The events of the previous night came rushing back all at once: Bucky’s pained groans pulling you into the hall. His bloody face. His broken hand. The stitches. The time spent chatting about everything and nothing.

It wasn’t exactly how you imagined your first night together, but you couldn’t complain. 

“No, that’s okay. I’m-” you rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn, “I’m sorry I crashed on your couch.”

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes at you, “You can stay here whenever you want, you can move in for all I care.”

The two of you sat in a long, charged silence. 

He didn’t mean to seem so overly enthusiastic. So borderline desperate to have you around. But he couldn’t help it. He’d woken up next to you. He’d watched you sleep soundly against his shoulder. He was simply intoxicated by it all. Just knowing that it was possible to wake with you by his side each morning filled him with a blaze of hope.

But you didn’t find his enthusiasm off-putting or bizarre. If anything, it was a comfort. It felt good knowing that he wanted you in his space, that he enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed his. 

The voice in your head told you to curl up with your head on his chest. To kiss him. To take him by the hand and lead him to bed. The urge to make him yours vibrated inside your chest, nearly snapping your ribs. But you refused to set it free. Not yet, anyway. You wanted to take things slow, wanted to ensure that you wouldn’t scare him off. 

You did your best to formulate a witty, flirtatious response. But the sound of birds chirping outside the window derailed your thought process.

“Shit,” you searched for your phone but came up empty; it was still next door. “What time is it?”

Bucky freed his phone from his pocket, “Um, five-thirteen.”

A long, deep sigh left your chest, “I have to go- I’m gonna be late for work.” 

No part of you wanted to leave Bucky’s side. The medical professional in you wanted to stay and keep an eye on the wound that sliced through his cheek. But your romantic side, the side of you that counted down the hours until your next visit to Lucky’s, wanted simply to spend more time with him. To chat with him. To curl up next to him on the couch and spend the entire day watching movies.

“I don’t wanna ditch you,” you clarified, your hand resting on his forearm, “I just-”

“No, I get it. Go save lives,” he shot you a wink. “Here, let me,” he stood from the couch and offered you his hand, helping you stand.

You thanked him for the gentlemanly gesture and told him to take it easy as you set off for his front door- but stopped in your tracks when he began following you. 

“Oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to walk me out,” you gave him a quick, tight hug before gesturing toward the couch. “Go back to sleep.”

“I will, but I’m gonna walk you home first.”

A loud laugh exploded out of your chest, “You’ve gotta be kidding me- Barnes, I live next door.”

“And?” He stared at you with fabricated indignance. “Hey, something could happen to you in the three seconds it takes for you to get home. And I’m not standing for that, sweetheart.”

Feigned annoyance and a dramatic eye roll punctuated your, “You’re ridiculous.”

He nodded, “Yeah. I am. I never once claimed to be otherwise.” He shot you a smile and snaked an arm around your back, escorting you toward the door. “Now, come on. It’s a long walk back to your place and I don’t want you to be late.”

The two of you walked the three feet back to your door with Bucky’s hand resting gently against your spine. And though you really did love your job, you’d never wanted to quit more than you did in that moment. If quitting meant spending the rest of the day with him, you’d be more than happy to resign right then and there.

“Well, thanks for walking me home,” you said. “It was a pretty dangerous journey, I appreciate you coming with me.”

Bucky shrugged, “Well, I am a hero.” 

This time, it was him who left a kiss against your cheek. He dropped all of the sarcasm and jokes the two of you had been passing back and forth, and gave you only his most authentic, genuine affection. He wasn’t sure how long one should linger in that kind of situation. How long was too long for a kiss on the cheek between friends? But the way you leaned into his touch told him there was no limit. 

His stubble pricked at your skin as his lips pressed against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut. Your chest tightened. And a swarm of butterflies filled your stomach. If this was the effect he had on you with just a kiss to the cheek, you couldn’t imagine the way you’d feel once he finally kissed you properly. 

It was truly cruel that you’d actually be expected to go to work after this. How were you supposed to focus on paperwork and prescriptions when the man of your dreams kissed you like that? It was inevitable that you’d spend the rest of the day replaying this moment over and over and over; you’d essentially be a useless employee. 

“Have a good day,” he said as he finally pulled away. “Will I see you tonight?”

“I mean, duh,” you said, almost offended he’d even ask. “I’m a regular now. People will be disappointed if I don’t show.”

Bucky agreed. Of course, he knew you were kidding. But to him, you were the only good thing about Lucky’s. You were it’s only redeeming quality, it’s only bright spot. And at this point, you were the only thing keeping him from quitting. He hated working there. Hated being the appointed bruiser. But once you started frequenting the joint, his love for the job grew exponentially. If he had to work in a shithole, if he had to take constant verbal abuse from his boss, at least you were there to soften each blow. 

Eventually, you had to head inside and get dressed to avoid being unforgivably late. But the two of you only parted ways once Bucky promised you he’d to go back to sleep and get the rest he deserved. 

Only two nights later, Bucky strode up to the bar and perched on the stool next to yours.  

He gently nudged your shoulder with his. “Hi.”

“Hi,” a smile that you’d categorize as ‘borderline embarrassing’ instantly stretched across your face. “What are you doing?” 

This was out of the ordinary; all these nights you’d spent at Lucky’s, and Bucky had never actually sat down with you. He always posted up next to your stool, his back against the bar, scanning the sea of boisterous customers for signs of trouble. But tonight was different. And though you were thrilled to see him taking a load off, you knew it was a recipe for disaster. If his boss caught him, it would result in a deafening and vicious verbal lashing.

You swept your glance over the bar, keeping an eye out for the manager. “Aren’t you gonna get in trouble if-”

“Nope, I’m on my break.” Bucky waved to the bartender and motioned for a beer. “The other bouncer got here earlier than usual. So, you and I get an uninterrupted half hour to talk and drink and…” You could’ve sworn his gaze drifted toward your lips, “Whatever else.”

He clinked his beer against yours and frowned at your half-empty glass, “You need another?”

“No, I’m good. Since I’m here every night now, I can only do one,” you said. “Being hung over in health care is frowned upon.”

Bucky let out a laugh, “Aw, come on. I was gonna buy you a beer. Well, I hope you’ve been putting your drinks on my tab, at least.” 

A scoff pushed past your lips, “What? No. I’m not making you pay for my drinks.” 

He shot you an eye roll, “You’re not making me do anything, sweetheart. I want to. So, we need to mitigate this situation immediately.” He motioned for the bartender again, and you did your best to stop him, but he was far too strong.

 “I don’t come here for free drinks!” You delivered a light punch to his arm, “What do you think I am? A gold digger?”

Bucky’s laugh boomed through the bar. “Well, I would hope not! Cause if you are, you’re really bad at it. You chose the wrong guy, sweetheart- I don’t have any gold for you to dig.” He shot you a wink before turning again toward the bartender, “Hey, from now on, all of her drinks go on my tab- no matter what she says.”

He refused to listen to your argument and laughed as you crossed your arms over your chest. But after a moment of feigning annoyance, you endlessly thanked him for his generosity.

“It’s really nice of you,” you admitted. “I appreciate the gesture.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do.” All at once, he dropped his goofy smile. Suddenly, his expression grew serious, his voice quieted. “You make my job bearable- enjoyable, even. I’ve been…” He let out a sigh, “I’ve been pretty miserable working in this place. But now that you’re a regular, I don’t hate coming here anymore.” 

His words set your face ablaze. And as you stared at him, you sensed something brewing beneath his surface. It seemed like he had more to say. Like he was testing the waters. 

And he did, indeed, want to tell you the truth. To admit just how special you were to him. How much he enjoyed your company. He found himself afloat in his feelings for you, drifting along without a care in the world. Maybe, he thought, this was the perfect time. Maybe this was the perfect place. The two of you didn’t meet at Lucky’s, but it was where your friendship blossomed. Where the two of you spent most of your time together. Where he fell hard- and fast- for you.

But he felt too exposed all of a sudden, like someone placed a magnifying glass right on top of him. He came screeching back to reality, back to his senses. He couldn’t tell you here. Sure, Lucky’s was significant to your relationship. But it was loud and dirty and packed to the gills with ruffians. He couldn’t trust this environment with something as delicate as his feelings for you.

He opted to tuck his confession safely away in a quiet corner of his mind. And once again, adopted his light-hearted tone.

“And hey, if a girl like you is gonna hang out in a place like this? All because of me?” he shrugged. “I can at least cover your drinks.”

“Yeah?” You laughed, “Well, I think it’s-”

A sudden outburst cut you off. 

“Hey!” A tall, burly man lumbered toward the bar. Toward Bucky. He was clearly intoxicated. Angry. He shot a sneer at the two of you as he approached. “HEY!”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Not at all surprised. He waved the man off, “Come on, man. I’m on my break-”

The man took a few unsteady steps closer and clapped a hand onto Bucky’s shoulder. “No! We gotta talk! Right fuckin’ now!”

Bucky shrugged the man’s hand from his body and gave him a sharp look, “Don’t touch me.”

“You got me arrested!” The man shouted, “You called the cops on me, they put me in jail!”

Bucky maintained his composure as he stood from his seat and faced the man. “I didn’t get you arrested,” he said, keeping his tone even. “My boss called the cops because you threatened multiple people- and sliced my face open- with a knife.”

He turned back to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I think you should probably get out of here, sweetheart. Just in case.” Concern knit his brow together, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

It was sweet of him, it really was. And the way he worried about you filled you with an intoxicating warmth. All he wanted was to protect you, to keep you safe- it was enough to make you swoon. But you weren’t willing to give up your time with him.

“Oh, um… but I’d rather stick around. We’re only a few minutes into our ‘uninterrupted half hour.’” 

The disappointment in your voice nearly bore a hole through Bucky’s chest.  Even after all this time, he was still in awe of the fact that you actually wanted to spend time with him. He was so grateful. So indebted to the universe for bringing you into his life. He never considered himself a lucky guy, considering all of the decidedly unlucky things that happened to him. But ever since you two started spending time together, he found the name of the bar appropriate.

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” you said, hoping it would be enough to convince him. 

“I know,” Bucky sighed, “But I’d rather you be safe than sorry. So, if you could-” 

With Bucky’s attention on you and his back to the wily man, he was an easy target. 

Normally, Bucky was a fortress. An indestructible wall of muscle. No regular civilian could ever be a match for him. But he was so focused on you, so hellbent on convincing you to head home, that he let his guard down.

The man launched himself against Bucky’s body and sent him crashing forward. All of Bucky’s weight careened into you, knocking you from your barstool. His body landed square on top of you, and a sickening ‘crack’ resounded through the space as your head hit the floor. And Bucky could’ve sworn he heard something snap like a twig beneath his weight

The world around you went black.

Bucky instantly lifted himself off of you and tried to appraise your condition, but his assailant refused to relent. He made another grab for Bucky and tried to pull him from your side, still determined on getting his revenge. But Bucky wasn’t having it. 

He delivered a swift punch to the man’s jaw, sending him to the floor. With the threat neutralized, Bucky returned his attention to you. Onlookers had started gathering, growing ever closer to your unconscious body.

“Woah, woah, hey!” Bucky shouted at the crowd, “Back the fuck up!”

He brought his palm to your cheek and spoke softly to you, asking you to open your eyes. But you remained unresponsive. That’s when he noticed the blood. It poured from a wound on your skull and pooled around you like a macabre halo. 

His heart leapt into his throat as worst case scenarios piled up around him. He felt for a pulse and found your healthy heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingers. He observed the steady rise and fall of your chest. You were alive, you were okay. But he knew the fear clawing at his throat wouldn’t recede until you woke.

“Hey,” Bucky waved toward the bartender, “I need a towel- a clean towel.”

The bartender rolled his eyes and retreated into a backroom, emerging moments later with something that passed as clean by Lucky’s standards. He tossed it over the bar Bucky snatched it from the air with haste. As gently as he could, he snaked his hand beneath your head and pressed the towel to your bleeding scalp. Chills slithered up his arm as the sensation of your warm blood met his skin.

He wished you’d never stepped foot in this godforsaken place. He’d been thrilled that the two of you got to spend time together each night. And he loved seeing your warm smile through the crowd of miscreants. But this was no place for you. And as your blood pooled in the palm of his hand, he wished you would’ve stuck to trendy cocktail bars instead. 

“Hey, hey- I said back off,” Bucky barked at a man who crept a little too close to you.

Those were the first words you heard upon waking. Sure, they were aggressive and a bit jarring- but you didn’t care. Because it was his voice, Bucky’s voice that welcomed you back to the land of the living. The sound sent a rush of warmth over you, cloaking you in comfort like a blanket. 

“Barnes?”

Relief flooded Bucky’s system. “Hey, hi,” he let his free hand drift across your cheek, “How do you feel?”

“Like I…” A quiet moment passed as you took inventory of your condition. And while your mind was fuzzy from the impact, your medical background wouldn’t allow you to say something as pedestrian as ‘like shit.’

“Like I have a concussion, and-” With the slightest movement of your shoulder, you tested your hypothesis; the pain that radiated through you proved your theory right. “And a broken clavicle.”

Bucky grimaced, “Yeah, your head’s bleeding pretty good. You’ll probably need stitches- and before you suggest it, you can’t do them yourself.” 

Even as pain sliced through your skull and throbbed inside your chest, a smile stretched across your face. Bucky had that effect on you. “Boo,” you teased. “I can sew up the back of my own head, Barnes. Just give- give me a couple mirrors and I’m golden.”

“How about I pick you up instead?” Bucky suggested. “I think you’ll probably end up with hepatitis if you lay on that floor much longer.”

You wrinkled your nose in disgust; who knew what kind of microbes lived on the floor of Lucky’s?

“You don’t- you don’t have to. I can stand,” you assured him.

He eyed you with uncertainty. But you insisted. 

And so, he slipped his free hand into one of yours and gave you a nod, “We’ll go on your count. You tell me when you’re ready.”

Just thinking about moving filled you with dread. The pain in your head was sure to multiply upon sitting up, and you knew the agony from your broken collarbone would make you wish you were dead. But the longer you put it off, the worse the anticipation got. And so, you gave Bucky the subtlest nod you could manage and began the countdown. 

“Okay,” you sighed, “Three, two… one.”

With that, Bucky helped you sit upright. A loud, miserable groan rolled out of your chest; your fears about the pain were right.

But the severe instability of your environment took precedence. The walls of the bar wiggled and wobbled. The entire world seemed to fall into a strange, zig-zag pattern. And though you were sitting perfectly still, your entire body listed to one side. A black vignette bloomed on the edges of your vision, and you reached desperately for Bucky, hoping to steady yourself against his muscular frame.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’m right here. I got you.” He allowed your nails to dig into his flesh as you clung to him for dear life. And when the dark clouds parted, they revealed his beautiful, concerned smile.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He peeled his hand from the back of your head for just a moment, hoping that the bleeding had finally come to a stop. But the crimson river remained. He did his best to conceal the worry that fought to infiltrate his expression and flashed you a warm smile. 

“When you’re ready, I’ll help you stand, and we can get you to the ER.”

He pulled his gaze from you for only a moment, and only to ask a Lucky’s regular he didn’t detest to hail the two of you a cab. 

But in that short moment, he clocked the way your assailant still skulked through the bar. He’d regained his feet and set out on a warpath. He hounded anyone he came upon, shoving them and hurling expletives through the air. As long as Bucky could get you out of the bar without another run in with that man, everything would be okay. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for him before turning his focus back to you. 

“Alright, I’m- I guess now is as good a time as any,” you sighed.

Bucky threw you a smile, “Count it down, sweetheart.”

“Three, two.” You let out a huff, “One.”

As carefully as he could, Bucky helped you stand. He tucked you close to his side, making certain that you were steady on your feet. Even before the two of you became close friends, he felt an urge to protect you. It was a strong, all-encompassing need that only grew as he got to know you. And now that your blood stained the floor around him, that urge exploded into overdrive. He was certain he’d never be able to leave your side, that he’d have to spend the rest of his life keeping you safe. Not that he’d complain. 

“How you feeling?” He pulled a bar stool to your side, “You wanna sit for a second?”

“No, I’m-” You waited for the second round of black clouds to part. “I’m good.”

“Then let’s get you out of here.” With one hand still pressed to your skull and the other winding carefully around your front, he watched you like a hawk as you started your journey toward the door. 

But just as you made your first few steps, Bucky’s boss blocked your path.

“Barnes! Get him out of here!” He barked, pointing toward the man who’d attacked the two of you. He was pushing people down left and right and antagonizing the ones who fought back. The other bouncer was nowhere in sight, leaving this task up to Bucky. “Get rid of him!”

Bucky didn’t respond. He had a one-track mind that was solely comprised of getting you the help you needed. But his boss didn’t like that.

“Hey! You hear me?” He yelled, “Go get his ass!”

“My friend needs help,” Bucky said. “I’m taking her to the hospital.” 

He did his best to escort you past his boss, but the man wasn’t having it. He once again stepped directly into your path, “No, you’re gonna stay here and do your fucking job,” he spat. “You’re a bouncer- go bounce the guy.”

With one shove, Bucky sent his boss to the floor. He carefully guided you around the man’s body and led you through the crowd of onlookers, all without removing the towel from your bleeding wound. 

As the two of you neared the front door, a sense of relief flooded Bucky’s senses. The only thing that stood between his favorite person and the medical attention she needed was a quick cab ride. 

But his relief was short-lived. 

“You take one fucking step out that door,” Bucky’s boss called from his place on the floor, “And your ass is fired!”

But Bucky didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. He continued forward with you in his grasp, carefully watching your footing in case you became unsteady. He didn’t care about Lucky’s; he didn’t care about job security. He cared about you- and only you.

But his boss’s words hit you like a ton of bricks. And even through the fog of your concussion, you realized just how serious his ultimatum was. Without a word, you stopped in your tracks. Only six or so inches lay between you and the bar’s threshold, and you weren’t going to cross it with Bucky still in tow. 

“Hey, you doing alright?” Bucky’s arm tightened around your middle, “Feeling dizzy? Do you need to sit?” 

“No, I’m-” you turned toward him, as much as his grip would allow. “I’m not letting you leave with me.”

“What?”

“You heard what he said. If you take even one step outside, you’ll lose your job.” A sad smile flashed across your face, “And I’m not letting that happen.”

Bucky went through hell trying find a place that would actually employ him. He told you about all the harsh comments, all of the businesses that kicked him out without even giving him a chance. And it destroyed you. He was so kind, so warm, so good- he didn’t deserve to be treated that way. 

You didn’t want him going through that bullshit again. And you definitely didn’t want him going through it because of you.

“Sweetheart, who cares? I’ll get another job. I’ll be-” He did his best to escort you through the door, but you held firm. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“But you said this is the only place that would hire you,” a distinct twinge of despair filled your voice. “And I don’t want screw it up for you. I don’t want you to have to deal with all the-”

His lips found your cheek and lingered far longer than they had when he walked you home. It was an effective way of silencing you, possibly the most effective way you’d come across. 

“I don’t care about this job. I don’t care if I have to get another one,” his voice was low, his lips only millimeters from your skin. “I care about you. About getting you out of here safely.”

“But-”

He pulled away a few inches, locking eyes with you. “No buts. You’re my priority.”

Heat coursed through your veins and set your cheeks alight. His priority? You could get used to that. 

But you were still unsure. The city was expensive- wildly expensive- these days. It was hard enough for him to get the job at Lucky’s, and if he lost it, you feared he’d be destitute within a few days’ time. It’s not like he had mountains of savings to fall back on, or any remaining money from his POW benefits.

But the look he gave you told you everything you needed to know. He just wanted to take care of you. To get you out of the bar in one piece and allow a doctor to look at your wound. He’d choose you above all else, every single time. 

“Okay,” was all you could manage, his intense stare nearly hypnotizing you. 

And with that, the two of you stepped out into the night without giving Lucky’s a second look. 

The rest of the evening flew by in a painful, dizzying blur. The cab ride. Sitting in the waiting room at your hospital’s ER. Your coworkers chatting with you as they sewed your head wound shut and appraised your X-rays.

But Bucky was by your side the entire time. He did everything in his power to be there for you. To make you more comfortable. He held your hand through every stitch and made pleasant small talk with your work friends. And when an orderly came to collect you for your X-ray, Bucky even left another kiss against your cheek. 

You swore to yourself that one day soon, you’d ask him for the real thing.

The cab ride home seemed to last an eon. Horns blared. Drivers cursed at one another. The taxi stopped and started every few seconds, jerking you forward with each sudden acceleration. The sling around your neck did little to save your broken clavicle from throbbing, and pain rocketed through you with each lurch of the vehicle. With your equilibrium compromised by the concussion, you feared you’d fall out of your seat at any moment.

But Bucky wouldn’t allow it. He held you close, allowing you to melt into the safety of his body. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but before he knew it, your face rested in the crook of his neck. Goosebumps tingled up his chest, over his neck, and across his scalp as your breath drifted over his skin. 

He was certain that you’d only opted to rest your head on him because you were exhausted. But his optimistic side- the side of him that rarely saw the light of day- was awash in hope. Maybe you returned his feelings. Maybe you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

But he couldn’t allow himself to get tangled up in the marvelous world of what ifs; he had a job to do. He had to get you home safely. To get you settled. To keep a watchful eye on your condition. It was his responsibility, his duty. After all, he was to blame for your injuries.

At least, that’s what he believed. 

When the cab finally pulled up in front of your building, Bucky helped you from the car with careful hands. He treated you like glass, fearing you’d shatter if you tripped on the uneven curb. His arm laced around your back, prepared to catch you in the event of a misstep. 

A quiet, mischievous voice in the back of your mind told you to trip- just a little. If it meant he’d hold you tighter, you’d throw yourself to the ground without shame. But you resisted the urge, knowing he was worried enough about you as it was.

He wasn’t just your neighbor, anymore. And the word “friend” no longer held the same weight. No “friend” had ever cared about you like this. No “friend” had ever sacrificed their job for you- not that you’d ever expect them to. But the lengths to which Bucky was willing to go for you spoke volumes. 

The two of you made it inside without incident and boarded the building’s small, outdated elevator. A rush of relief flooded Bucky’s system. He was so glad to have you home. So glad that you were safe and on the mend. 

And you seemed glad, too. A quiet sound of contentment slipped past your lips as you leaned against Bucky for support, your face resting against his chest. As the creaky elevator slowly came to life, both of his arms wound around you, encircling you in his embrace; it was the safest place in the world. His warmth spread through you, easing some of your pain. And by the time the elevator reached your floor, you’d nearly fallen asleep. 

It almost scared you how comfortable you were with him. How easy it was for you to drop your guard and allow him in. But nothing had ever felt so right. 

The elevator doors parted, but you didn’t move an inch. You were too wrapped up in the warm, cozy sensation of Bucky’s body pressed against yours. Of your face buried in his chest. Of his hands sweeping over your back. 

And Bucky was more than happy to stay in the moment as long as possible. But when the doors began closing again, he knew it was time to go. He couldn’t allow you to ride up and down in the elevator with him all night, not when you needed some proper rest. 

“Hey, sweetheart…” He gently traced his hand up and down your spine.

The sound of his voice brought you out of your stupor, “Hmm?”

 “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Without a word, you allowed him to lead you by the hand to your apartment. He fished your keys out of your pocket, unlocked the door, and escorted you carefully inside. And when he got you comfortably seated on the couch, he finally released the breath he’d been holding since you hit the floor.

“I was thinking I’d stick around for a while, if that’s okay,” Bucky took a tentative seat on the edge of the couch, “Just so I can keep an eye on you.”

A tired smile stretched across your face, “You know, the whole ‘you can’t go to sleep when you have a concussion’ thing is just a myth, Barnes.”

“I know, doc. But I still wanna make sure you’re alright,” he cupped your face in his hand and swept a thumb over your cheek. “And if you need anything, I want to be here for you. Unless you want me to get out of your hair-” 

“No,” It came out more urgent, more needy than you intended. “No, I want you to stay.”

A comfortable silence permeated the apartment as you leaned into his touch. Your eyes fluttered shut. The sharp pain inside your head dissipated. And all that remained was his skin on yours. 

He sighed, “Plus, this whole thing is kinda my fault. So, it’s only right that I-”

Your eyes shot open. The sense of peace he’d granted you only moments ago vanished. 

“Barnes, none of this is your fault.”

He shrugged, “I feel like it is.”

His tendency for shouldering blame that didn’t belong to him would almost be impressive if it wasn’t so goddamn heartbreaking. He could twist and contort any scenario and find a way to make himself culpable. To make himself worthy of reproach. You knew it stemmed from his past; from the decades he spent doing Hydra’s dirty work. 

And you refused to allow it.

“No. It’s not. Some asshole knocking us both down isn’t your fault- you didn’t do anything wrong.” An overwhelming desperation leaked into your voice, “I don’t want you to feel guilty about this.”

The pleading in your eyes snapped Bucky out of his self-flagellation. He knew the blame would return in a few hours, but your sincerity banished it for the time being. You weren’t saying these things just to make him feel better, you meant them. You believed them. And Bucky chose to believe them, too. Even if that belief could only last a little while.

An almost shy smile flickered across his face, and he cut his gaze to the floor. He was made bashful by the way you cared about him. By the way you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

“Um, is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?” He gestured to your arm, resting in its sling. “You know, since you’ve only got one good arm for the time being- I know what that’s like.” 

There was, indeed, something you needed help with. You’d thought about it at the hospital. In the cab. And while you knew Bucky would have no issue helping you out of the goodness of his heart, the task in question would certainly force your friendship into new territory. 

“There is one thing that I don’t think I can do by myself, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you said, cringing at the thought. “So, if it’s too awkward, I can figure something out and-”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Nothing was off limits between the two of you. Nothing could ever make Bucky shy away. He was entirely and wholly committed to being there for you- whatever that meant. He only ever wanted to make you happy. 

“Could you-” you stopped and opted to rephrase your request, “Would you mind helping me change?”

Bucky’s heart started pounding. 

“I can handle the pants,” you laughed. “But I’m not gonna be able to get out of my shirt by myself.” An apologetic smile pulled at your lips, “I just can’t lift my arm very well, you know? But again, if it’s too weird-”

“It’s not too weird,” Bucky said. “I’m- I’ll help as best I can.”

He assisted you as you struggled to get off the couch and supported you when your concussion made your feet unsteady. He didn’t rush you as you walked, didn’t complain that you were taking too long. He simply kept an eye- and a hand- on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t fall. He would never let you fall. 

“Not to ask you for another favor,” you said as the two of you made it to your bedroom, “But could you get me a pajama shirt? They’re in my dresser, third drawer from the top.”

Bucky took a step or two in the direction of your dresser but paused when an idea popped into his head. 

“Wait- what about a hoodie? The zip up kind, I mean,” he offered. “That way, you won’t have to raise your arm to get it on and off.” 

“Barnes, you’re a genius.” 

Bucky blushed at the praise. Something about his proud smile, his scarlet-tinged cheeks made your heart lurch. The instinct to deliver a firm kiss to his lips grabbed you by the throat, cutting off your airway. But you couldn’t plant one on him now, not when he was moments away from helping you take your clothes off. The two of you were already entering uncharted territory and you feared that kissing him would only make things more awkward. 

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “I have a few in my closet. Dealer’s choice.” 

Bucky rifled through your closet until he came across a zippered hoodie and plucked it from its hanger. 

He wanted to do anything he could to help you. To make you more comfortable. But the thought of helping you undress made his hands shake. There was nothing sexual about helping an injured friend change clothes. Nothing erotic about your situation. But he couldn’t deny his want. It thrashed inside his chest, begging him to tell you the truth.

And as much as he wanted to confess his feelings for you, this was not the time to make a move. You were hurt, vulnerable, exhausted. You trusted him. And to turn this moment into some sort of romantic confession felt like a betrayal of that trust. Instead, he opted to cage his hunger for you. To assist you with your predicament in the most innocent and respectable manner possible. 

He’d never dream of making you uncomfortable or making you doubt his intentions, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his heartrate from increasing with each step he took in your direction. 

“Okay, so… I guess let’s just get it over with, huh?” You started lifting the bottom of your scrub top, but stopped when your sling got in the way. A hopeless expression crossed your face, “See what I mean? I need help, I’m a mess.”

A quiet laugh rumbled out of his chest, “Here, let me.” 

Bucky cautiously removed your sling and set it to the side with care. And together, the two of you slowly worked your scrub top over your head. Pained groans left your chest every few seconds, and expletives fell from your lips now and again. 

Bucky apologized over and over. He knew you were miserable. Knew that his shaking hands didn’t help the situation. But he did his best to rid you of your shirt with as little pain as possible. And he made a conscious effort to avert his eyes as he helped you shimmy out of your sports bra. It was the least he could do, given the circumstances.

“I appreciate you trying to preserve my modesty, or whatever,” you chuckled. “But you don’t have to. I really don’t care.”

“Yeah, no. I was- I didn’t want you to think that I was-” Bucky stumbled over his words. “I didn’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“You can’t. Nothing could ever be weird between us,” you said. 

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Knowing that you were as comfortable with him as he was with you filled him with all-encompassing warmth. 

“And I mean, if you’re gonna help me get dressed,” you added, “You might have to- to look a little.”

Bucky slowly lifted his gaze from the floor and found a tired smile stretched across your face. It was only when he reached for your hoodie that he gave your bare torso a quick, passing gaze. He didn’t allow himself to stare- though, he wanted to. Instead, he adopted a clinical approach and assisted you with donning your jacket in the least offensive way possible. 

He did, however, make a mental note of just how perfect you were. How beautiful. Part of him knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, as he always knew you were flawless. But actually experiencing your soft, beautiful body made his chest tight. He didn’t linger, though. Didn’t allow himself to ogle you. He got right back to the task at hand and got you dressed without incident. 

A sense of pride filled his chest as he zipped up your hoodie. Not only did you trust him enough to be his friend, but you trusted him so much that you were willing to undress in front of him. You didn’t see him as a threat or a menacing presence, you saw him for who he was: gentle, kind, caring. 

He placed your sling back in its proper position, carefully resting your arm inside. 

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm. All good.”

The two of you locked eyes for a long moment. Part of you wondered if Bucky only saw you as a friend. You’d just allowed him to undress you and even gave him a pass to stare at your bare chest- and found yourself disappointed when he didn’t take it. You could’ve sworn there was a mutual, lustful tension. A shared romantic interest. But maybe it was one sided. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe you were wrong. 

Finally, he broke the silence. “Um, I’ll give you a minute to finish changing. Let me know if you need help.”

And just like that, he was gone. He wasn’t proud of the way he fled the scene, the way he practically ran from your bedroom and left you in the dust. But his overwhelming feelings, his suffocating need for you was reaching a boiling point. And if he didn’t take a moment to clear his head, he feared he’d misspeak and ruin the fragile, beautifully crafted trust the two of you shared. 

With Bucky waiting in the living room, you removed your scrub pants and underwear and donned a pair of pajama shorts. In all honesty, you wished he’d stayed in the room while you slipped out of your work pants. But clearly, you’d misread his signals. Hell, maybe he hadn’t sent you any signals at all. Maybe you made it all up. He obviously wasn’t interested. And so, you unceremoniously dumped your scrubs in the hamper and opened your bedroom door.

“Could you do me one more favor?” you asked. 

He nodded immediately. 

“I could use some help getting into bed.”

With that, Bucky flew into action. He pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and carefully guided you onto the mattress. He propped pillows behind your back to ease the pain of your broken clavicle. And once you were as comfortable as possible, he tucked the blankets snug around your body.

“Is that okay? Do you need another pillow?” He took a glance around the room, searching for more. “I can-”

“It’s perfect.”

A proud smile shone on Bucky’s face. “I can get you some water, or some tea?” He offered. “And if you’re hungry I could make you something. Or if you just want to crash, I can go hang out in the living room in case you-”

“Do you wanna stay in here?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. 

Bucky almost laughed. Of course, he wanted to stay in your room; it was a stupid question, really. 

“Yeah. If that’s alright with you-”

“It’s more than alright,” you assured him. “I’d prefer it, actually.”

“Well, in that case,” Bucky shrugged and threw you a wink. He removed his jacket and sunk down into the armchair in the corner.

You did your best to suppress the laugh that bubbled inside your chest, but it escaped against your will. “Oh, that’s- that’s not what I meant.”

The gears inside his mind came to a screeching halt. Had he done something wrong? “What- what do you mean?” He felt his face burn with embarrassment. 

“I meant, do you want to stay with me?” With your good arm, you folded back the blankets on the other side of the bed, welcoming Bucky in. “It’s late. I know you’re probably tired. And my bed is way more comfortable than the chair.”

The offer was enticing, overwhelmingly so. But Bucky couldn’t find it in him to say yes. He couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt you in his sleep. That he wouldn’t have a nightmare that resulted in borderline-violent thrashing. If he knocked you the wrong way, if he jostled you even a little, it was certain to send apocalyptic pain surging through your broken clavicle. And he simply couldn’t risk it. 

“Um, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” the disappointment in his voice was almost palpable. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know? I think it would be best if I just-”

“Would it change your mind if I said I wanted you to sleep in here with me?” 

The hope in your tired eyes sliced through him. He never wanted to disappoint you, never wanted to leave you hanging. And he had to admit, hearing those words come out of your mouth was his dream come fucking true.

“Then I guess,” he shrugged, “I guess I can’t say no to that. Not that I’d want to.” He shot you a wink before shedding his boots and emptying the pockets of his jeans. 

He climbed into your bed with the utmost caution, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. But all he found each time he looked at you was a satisfied smile. He took his place- his rightful place- next to you in bed, and finally allowed himself to truly relax. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was. But in the safety of your bed, the fatigue hit him like a truck. 

You watched as he snuggled under the covers, “Comfortable?” 

He answered with an emphatic nod. 

“Good. And hey, I’m,” you reached for him, allowing your hand to card through his hair. 

Bucky used every ounce of his strength to suppress the sound of pleasure that rose to the surface. 

“I’m sorry I got you fired…” you said.

All at once, the exhaustion left Bucky’s body. He was wide awake, completely and totally alert. “It isn’t your fault. I got myself fired, sweetheart-”

“But it’s my fault,” you insisted. “You got in trouble because of me. I should’ve-”

Bucky put his foot down, “Hey, this isn’t open for discussion.” With the utmost care, he removed your hand from his hair and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I wasn’t gonna ditch you, okay? I wasn’t gonna let you go to the ER by yourself. I chose to leave with you.” He let his lips lazily drag across your knuckles, “And if I had the choice to do it over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The dark, stormy clouds of guilt that loomed over your head parted a bit. They didn’t recede completely, but Bucky’s words helped alleviate some of their doom and gloom.

“Well… I really appreciate you having my back tonight,” your fingers drifted over his stubble, “You were a real knight in shining armor for me.”

Bucky shot you a smile, “Happy to do it, sweetheart. Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”  He thought about it for a second, and added, “Plus, it’s the least I could do, you know?”

You gave a small shake of your head, regardless of the pain. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean, you’ve been so nice to me. You’re the only one- aside from Sam- who actually treats me like a person.”

A jolt of pain shot through your chest, but it didn’t stem from the evening’s injuries; it was Bucky’s words that forced your heart to splinter. You knew just how tough it was for him to reacclimate to society, to put himself out there. And though he deserved nothing but warmth and understanding, he received only vitriol. 

“It just means a lot to me- you mean a lot to me,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d ever have friends again, let alone friends who are so good to me.” 

‘Friends’. The word took a bite out of your heart with its sharp, gnarly teeth. Bucky only saw you as a ‘friend’. All the sweet gestures, all the kisses he’d pressed to your cheek- it was just friendly rapport. Platonic. Neighborly. The disappointment crushed you, but before the agony could set in, Bucky continued speaking.

Adoration splashed across his face as he stared at you, “I’ll literally do anything for you, sweetheart. I want to you to feel like you have someone in your corner, like you have someone who cares. Cause that’s how youmake me feel- and it’s…” A warm smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “It’s the best feeling in the world. And if I can give that back to you, if I can make you feel as good as you make me feel, then I’m happy.”

It was the most heartfelt, gushing sentiment anyone had ever expressed to you- and it was completely authentic. Not a hint of sarcasm seeped into his words, and you didn’t find even a drop of cynicism. Bucky’s appreciation for you, his gratitude for you was one hundred percent genuine. It was so sincere, in fact, that you forgot how to speak.

So what if he didn’t return your feelings? So what if you’d read into his actions more than you should’ve? He was a good person, a good friend. And you were lucky to have him, even if he showed no romantic interest in you. 

“Anyway, I should stop talking your ear off and let you get some sleep.” He cautiously leaned over a pressed his lips to your cheek, “I’m really glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if-” He cleared his throat, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

The back-and-forth of Bucky’s sentiments nearly gave you whiplash. He’d called you a friend only moments ago. But there was something lurking beneath his latest words. Something that made your chest tighten. It was almost romantic. Almost pining. And maybe if you hadn’t received a head injury only two hours earlier, you would’ve been able to navigate the confusing waters of Bucky’s words. But the world inside your mind was fuzzy. Foggy. Confusing. You kept getting turned around. More than anything, you needed a map. A clear-cut sign. 

“If you need anything during the night, you can wake me,” Bucky said. 

Now was as good a time as any to find your sign. You did your best to chase his lips. To follow him as he retreated to his side of the bed. But in your injured state, you simply couldn’t make it happen. You were too slow. Too uncoordinated. And your broken clavicle screamed in pain as you tried to pursue him. 

He clocked the agonized look on your face and returned to your side in an instant, “Are you okay? Is there-”

“I need you to kiss me-” You shook your head- sending a dizzying pain through your skull, and rephrased, “To kiss me for real.”

Bucky stared at you with wide eyes. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I know we’ve been ‘just friends’ for a while and I love- I love being your friend,” the words fell from your lips before you had the chance to make edits. “But I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. And if you… if you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally okay, but I just-”

His lips met yours in a soft, careful kiss. It was feather light. Cautious. Not the intense, passionate kind you’d dreamed of. 

But you were already hurt, and he’d rather die than make things worse. And so, he kept his intensity measured, exercising the most restraint possible. 

And even though he couldn’t completely consume you like he wanted, it was still the best moment of his life. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and he’d certainly forgotten how to breathe, but that was fine by him. If he died with his mouth pressed against yours, at least he’d die doing what he loved. 

When he finally broke the kiss, the mutual hunger remained. Neither of you were sated by his gentle, ginger affections. And the deep ache in your chest only multiplied. 

“Yeah, I’m-” Your good hand twisted into the front of his t-shirt and pulled him closer. “I’m gonna need you to do that again.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You won’t,” you breathed. “And I’ve been dying for this for months, so-”

His hand cupped your face, and his mouth slotted over yours in a firm, desperate kiss. This was what you’d been waiting for. This was what you’d dreamed about. Finally, as his lips devoured yours, everything was right in the world. 

Only when your broken collarbone howled in pain did you pull away. 

Bucky stared at you, and you stared right back. No one moved. No one spoke. You weren’t even sure that this was real. But it didn’t matter, because after months of pining, of desperation, of want- Bucky was in your bed. And his lips had finally touched yours. 

“So…” Bucky broke the silence. “You’re ‘pretty sure’ you’re in love with me, huh?” He tilted his head in an expectant manner and let his hand drift across your cheek. “Is there anything I can do to make you sure-sure?”

You sighed, “Well, I was pretty sure. But now…”

“Now?” Bucky nodded.

“Now, I’m sure. I’m sure-sure. I’m as sure as I’ve ever been. About anything.” Your good hand slipped through Bucky’s hair,  and you did your best to uphold the light-hearted tone of the conversation. But a few drops of anxiety slipped through the dam and colored your words with worry. “What about you? Are you… on the fence?” 

A loud laugh boomed out of Bucky’s chest. “I haven’t- I haven’t been on the fence about you. Ever. The day you brought me those cookies after I moved in? I was done for.”

“What?” You said, incredulous. “Really?” 

“Really.” He lowered his lips to yours and gave you a long, soft kiss. “I have been sure about you from the start.”

His words set your entire body alight. To know that he’d been smitten with you this entire time, that he’d wanted you, that he’d been hopelessly in love with you- it was almost too much. You heart pounded; your mouth ran dry. All you’d wanted for months was to hear him say those exact words. 

But a sudden realization hit you like a truck, and you mourned what could’ve been. The weight of regret made it impossible to inhale. If you’d been braver, if you’d had the guts to tell him how you felt, he could’ve been yours months ago; you wouldn’t have wasted so much precious time. You could’ve had him in your sheets for every night. You could’ve kissed him each morning before leaving for work and welcomed him to bed when he returned from each shift at Lucky’s. 

“I should’ve said something sooner,” you sighed. “I feel like I wasted so much time, I-”

“It wasn’t wasted,” he assured you. He brushed his lips against your cheek, “We got to spend every night together at the bar- that was not a wasted.”

A large yawn escaped your mouth as you nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. But I just-” Another yawn interrupted you.

“Okay, alright, I think it’s time you get some rest,” Bucky tried to remove himself from your space, but you refused to let him go.

“No,” you protested. “I don’t want to go to sleep yet, we just- we just figured this whole thing out. I want to stay up, I don’t want us to-” 

“We’re not wasting time,” he said gently, reading your mind. “You’re hurt. You need to sleep. And we will have plenty of time together, I promise.”

There was no such thing as “plenty of time” with him; there could never be enough time with him. You thought back on all the days you went without seeing him. All the times you could only talk for a few minutes before rushing off to work. And suddenly, you feared for the future. Feared that you’d still only catch passing moments with the man you loved. 

Bucky could practically see the worry radiating off of you. He understood exactly what it felt like to fear the passage of time. To feel as though you might miss something. He knew what it was like to have time stolen from him, to know he was never going to get it back. But he didn’t feel that way with you. 

To him, the time the two of you spent cultivating and nurturing your friendship was invaluable. If given the opportunity, he’d never trade it- not for anything. And he would never classify time spent with you as time wasted. Though part of him wished he would’ve kissed you months ago, he knew somewhere deep down that this was the right moment. That everything- the cookies, the countless stitches, the beers, the innocent cheek kisses- it had all built into a perfect crescendo. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he assured you. “I have all the time in the world for you- I’m unemployed now, remember?”

You rolled your eyes and gave a weak laugh, “Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

“You’re going to see me so much that you’re gonna get tired of me,” Bucky said. “You’re gonna pick up extra shifts at work just to get away from me-”

“I don’t know about that-”

He shrugged, “It’s true. I’m gonna be here so often that you’re gonna beg Sam to take me on missions with him! You’re gonna want me out of your hair! And I’m-”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed so hard that your head and chest ached. “I get it! We’re gonna be together a lot!”

“Damn straight.” He dotted a kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, and finally, your lips. “Now, get some sleep. You need your rest.” 

He flicked off the lamp by your bedside and slipped his hand into yours. He wanted nothing more than to pull you tight against his chest and hold you there all night. But your injuries kept him at a safe distance. Once your body healed, he’d spend every night molding his body around yours. Playing with your hair as your head rested on his chest. He just had to be patient. He could do that for you- he could do anything for you. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered. 

“Goodnight, Barnes.” He could hear the smile in your voice.

The two of you settled into the darkness, the quiet, relishing in the sensation of the other. This was worth the wait. Worth the diametrically opposed schedules. Hell, it was even worth the concussion.

And just as sleep threatened to pull you under, Bucky spoke up.

“Hey, I know I was originally against the idea of you hanging out at Lucky’s,” he said. “And I know I tried to steer you away-”

“You practically kicked me out- you tried to bounce me,” you whispered.

”I know,” he laughed. “But I’m glad you decided not to listen to me. Thank you for not listening to me.”

“Any time, Barnes.”

You inched closer to him, ignoring the unyielding pain scorching through your body. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of relentless hunger and undying want, Bucky was yours; he always was, you just never realized. 

And as sleep finally sank its hooks into you, you sensed the turning of a page. Like the ending of one chapter, and the start of the new one. A chapter in which the two of you were no longer neighbors. No longer friends. No longer drinking buddies. It wasn’t just a new chapter, but a new book altogether. And while you’d knew you’d occasionally miss the days of shameless flirting at the bar and the will-they-won’t-they of it all, you were thrilled to be his. Thrilled that he was finally yours. And you knew in your heart that the two of you would always have Lucky’s. 

———————————————————

Tags: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf417 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[inpayneland]

I'm so fucking tired of the narrative that I keep seeing in the fandom and in fanfics of “Edwin does all the detective work and Charles is only there to beat/fight whatever makes Edwin in danger.”

Not only is this super disrespectful to Charles, but it's also so far from the truth. In the show, we see Edwin and Charles solving cases TOGETHER!

Like, with the case of the Dandelion Sprites, who was the one who got the idea to trap them in the enchanted jar Tragic Mick gave them? Yeah, Charles.

Who was the one to find out it was a Forest elemental from another dimension that was infesting the forest in episode 6? Yeah, Charles.

Also, the fact that he was able to navigate Hell so easily (yes, with the help of Edwin's book, but that still shows a great level of analysis and understanding) proves that he's not just there to fight.

In episode one, we see them making a plan to help Crystal together. They investigate and plan the whole thing TOGETHER. It's not just Edwin on his own. And it's like that for all their cases.

There's more proof but I can't list them all together here, that would be too long.

Also, Edwin isn't the only magic user in their duo. Charles also uses magic. His cricket bat is magic, as stated in episode 6, his bag is also magic (and only him knows how to navigate it). And he's also the one who makes their magic costume.

Yes, Edwin is intelligent, he reads a lot of books, can read and understand many languages. But intelligence is so much more than that. As a taekwon-do black belt myself, I do know that fighting/sparing requires a lot of quick thinking and being able to make strategies on the go. Academic intelligence isn't the only type of intelligence and we need to let go of this mentality.

And I don't understand where this whole idea of Charles being academically stupid came from. I know it's more of a headcanon, and I usually never shit on people's headcanon, because we are all entitled to our own headcanons, but the fact that Charles isn't white and people have the headcanon that he wasn't good at school doesn't sit right with me.

In fact, I think it was the opposite, considering he was at a boarding school. It at least indicates that he at least had decent grades in order to being able to be and stay at that school at all.

Yeah, he reads less than Edwin, but that doesn't mean he isn't academically intelligent.

So please stop with this narrative. I know that, they call themselves the "Brain and the Brawn", but it's so much more nuanced than that and it for sure doesn't mean that Charles isn't intelligent and is only there to fight.

[blackcat-star]

[Married] Beautiful In white.

Husband!Jinwoo x Wife!Reader

« Tears | First night »

_________________________

Jinwoo's POV

Your elegant aisle walk mesmerized me so deeply that I could barely comprehend the enchanting scene in front of me. Your wedding dress appeared like freshly fallen winter snow to showcase your gentle personality. Unspoken emotions flowed through your eyes as tears remained unshed while you revealed your deep feelings. Then there was your smile, that very same radiant smile that had always been able to trap my heart, now all yours and pointed straight at me, in that unforgettable moment, all yours and only mine.

I heard my heart pounding in my chest. I, Sung Jinwoo - who had faced so many death doors, so many of the most terrifying monsters in life - and now, just one look from you made me tremble.

You were the first person I loved... and I wanted to be the last person you loved.

I think I've never been so sure of anything as I am now.

I stood at the end of the road, waiting for you to come. Every step you took was a slow-motion film of the years that had passed. From the days of school, the seasons of royal poinciana flowers falling all over the schoolyard, to the afternoons of parting when no one dared to say anything clearly, everything seemed like it was just yesterday.

I stood before you, my hands trembling slightly. You held my hand, so gently, as if if you was just a little stronger, this moment would disappear like morning dew.

No matter how poor, stormy, or hurtful, I am always here. 

We grow old together, with each other.

You are the sunshine of a naive youth.

Just a moment of your smile, and I knew I was done for. My heart at that time, did not understand what love was, only knew that every time you smiled, my heart skipped a beat.

I am not the type of person who speaks flowery words. In fact, back then, I did not dare to look at you for too long. Every time you turned around, I quickly looked away, pretending to be buried in my books, even though I could not read anything.

We were still friends at that time. But I only dared to keep that feeling in my heart.

I yearned for your company and wanted you near me yet my fear of revealing my real emotions stopped me from sharing my inner thoughts. My fear of showing emotions led me to worry that revealing my feelings would endanger our bond while potentially creating separation which would make us drift apart.

I feared that you would leave if I revealed how I truly felt. Afraid that you would no longer smile at me like before. So I chose to remain silent, just to be with you - even if it was as friends.

And then time passed. Each spring, summer, and autumn passed, we grew up. But I still could not forget the feeling when I first held your hand. I still clearly remember your hesitant eyes when our hands first touched. I thought I would forget. But how could I forget?

The first time we held hands seemed like it was just yesterday. I could not believe that my first love, my childhood dream,...

Now in pure white.

I see your parents, I see old friends, I see people who have witnessed our journey. I think about everything we have gone through to get to where we are today.

After so many years - in the blink of an eye - you are now my wife. I feel myself to be the luckiest person on Earth because I have no doubt about my good fortune.

Your palm's gentle warmth remains in my grip as I hold your hand tightly while a reassuring bond wraps around me.

We vowed to each other a permanent bond which excluded any casual or momentary promises because we promised to support our marriage until death.

"I dedicate myself to loving you forever as I swear this eternal promise not only for your sake but also as a holy vow made before heaven."

Your future brings no worries because I will stay by your side holding your hand at every moment including your tired times and times of need. Your presence is always available to me whenever you need rest or comfort. Your silence does not hide the ways I will make you smile because I will always find creative ways to brighten your day. Just a look, a squeeze of your hand, I will understand what you need.

_______________________

Time flies again - this time in the blink of an eye, ten years.

We are no longer just two people. Now, there is another little creature that calls us mom and dad.

I still remember clearly the moment you first held your child in your arms. You cried - not because of pain, but because of happiness. I stood beside you, unable to hold back my tears. I never thought I would have a family - but now, we have everything.

"Now we have another family. Happiness with another member."

We watched our child grow up every day. Every babble, every step, every time he called 'dad' - all became precious memories.

We both taught our child how to love - the way you and I have loved each other over the years.

And we promised to love our child forever, a sacred promise we made to the heavens. No matter how sick or poor or how much trouble come, mom and dad will always be here.

________________

One day, our hair will turn white. Our hands will shake, our eyes will dim. But when you look back, I want you to know that.

I am still the boy that year, silently looking at you and smiling. I am still the man standing in the wedding hall, waiting for you to step forward. I am still the father holding his child in his arms, promising to protect you and your child for life.

And...

I am still the person who will always be by your side - Until the very end.

We grow old together, with each other.

___________________

Part of LIFE WITH YOU.

___________________

This was supposed to be a long one.

But I realize I already wrote a section about the wedding, but I didn't want to delete this, so consider this an added section.

tag: @soft-dots

[d-z20]

Saved from the Dark

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You get kidnapped and tortured by witch hunters, but luckily Agatha has a soft spot for you and will not rest until you are safe in her arms again.

-OR-

Agatha is a bad bitch on a mission to save you (and then play nursemaid)

Warnings: dark fic, violence, kidnap, torture, death, hurt, comfort

Words: 2.2k

A/N: The witch hunter's magic is more of a Dr Strange type beat in this if you get me. Read the request that inspired this :)

AO3 | Masterlist

You hadn’t seen it coming. You never expected them to be so efficient and precise in their attack. One moment, you were gathering herbs in the quiet part of the city, lost in the tranquillity of the night, and the next, you were surrounded. The witch hunters had been tracking you for weeks, and now they were closing in. Before you could react, they were upon you, using both magic and technology to bind you. Their enchanted restraints sapped your energy, stripping you of your powers and leaving you vulnerable. No amount of magical strength could help you now. They overpowered you with force, shoving you into a van, and darkness swallowed you whole.

Agatha Harkness had always lived in the shadows, watching the world unfold from a distance. Her magic was vast, her knowledge unparalleled, but she preferred to remain hidden. She had her reasons—trust wasn’t something she gave lightly, especially not in a world that feared and hunted witches. But then there was you. You were different. You had a kindness about you, an openness that Agatha couldn’t help but be drawn to. Despite her usual detachment, she found herself watching over you, protecting you in subtle ways. You and your magic were the complete opposite of her: gentle and compassionate. Agatha could never let anyone harm you.

When the witch hunters began to make their presence known, Agatha was wary but confident in her own ability to stay undetected. She had lived too long and become too powerful to be caught. But when you failed to come back after your usual late-night walk through the city, Agatha felt a strange sense of unease gnawing at her. Her instinct was always right. Something was wrong.

—

The first thing you become aware of is the sharp, aching pain in your head. It feels as if the world is spinning, though you can’t tell if it’s your body or the room itself that’s unsteady. You’re lying on a cold, metal floor, your arms chained to the wall. The weight of the cuffs around your wrists makes it hard to move, the magical inhibitors in them pulling away your ability to summon even the smallest spark of power. You breathe through the nausea, forcing yourself to focus on one thought: Agatha will find you. Agatha always finds you.

But the darkness around you presses in, suffocating and endless, until a voice cuts through it.

“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” A man sneers. His voice is cruel, heavy with derision. “Running around with your magic like you’re something special. But look at you now—trapped. Helpless. Powerless.”

His words sting, but you don’t respond. You can’t. You feel his footsteps approach, his presence looming over you like a stormcloud.

The first blow comes without warning. A punch lands squarely on your face, making your head snap back. The jarring sound of a chair scraping against the concrete floor grates in your ears as another figure steps closer.

“Tell us what we want to know,” someone else demands, their tone sharp and impatient.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the sharp sting spreading across your cheek. I won’t tell them anything. You repeat the thought like a mantra, clinging to it as they strike you again, this time a vicious kick to your ribs. The pain ripples through your body, but you refuse to cry out.

Then they escalate. Rough hands grab you, their grip bruising, and a sharp needle pierces your skin. Icy pain radiates from the injection site, making you shudder as the potion floods your veins. It burns, cruel and unrelenting, designed to strip you of strength and magic while forcing you to remain awake and aware.

“Let’s see how long you last,” one of them jeers.

—

They force you to stand for hours, your legs trembling, the chains biting into your wrists. Every muscle screams for relief, but you refuse to give them the satisfaction of your screams. When they press a glowing sigil in front of your face, its blinding light sears your vision, disorienting you and leaving your thoughts muddled. 

Each hour blurs into the next. The pain is unpredictable and deliberate. They are methodical, breaking you piece by piece. They demand names and locations—anything that could give them power over the witch community—but you remain silent. The only thing keeping you going is the thought of Agatha.

When you still refuse to answer, they change tactics.

They drag you to a machine humming faintly with unnatural energy. The cold metal is laced with glowing runes and wires that pulse like a heartbeat. You try to pull away, but they force your hands into place, clipping small, sparking devices onto your fingertips.

The moment the circuit completes, searing pain shoots through you. The machine vibrates, drawing the essence of your magic from your body. The sensation is unbearable—burning and crackling as if your veins themselves are being syphoned dry.

“You feel that?” one of the hunters taunts, his voice dripping with malice. “That’s your power. You’re nothing without it.”

They twist knobs and flick switches, each adjustment sending fresh waves of agony through your body. It’s more than pain; it feels like they’re tearing away a part of your soul, unravelling the very threads of your identity.

“You’re pathetic,” another spits. “All that power, and it can’t save you.”

The world becomes a fog of pain and confusion, but you cling to the hope that Agatha will come. She has to.

—

Agatha moves through the shadows with precision, her anger burning hotter with every step. She had been tracking the faint echoes of your magic for hours, each pulse weaker than the last. The hunters were clever, masking their trail with layers of enchantments and misdirection, but Agatha was older and far more powerful. She unravelled their spells one by one, her determination unrelenting. When she finally found the building—a run-down warehouse cloaked in wards meant to deter magical detection—she didn’t hesitate. The faint flicker of your magic inside made her breath hitch. I’ve got you, she thought. Hold on just a little longer.

Her entrance is swift and deadly. The first guard falls without a sound, a flash of purple light dissolving him into nothingness. Another tries to raise the alarm, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. There’s no room for hesitation, no space for mercy.

She finally reaches the room they’re keeping you in and stops in the doorway, her breath catching. You’re lying on the floor, still connected to the machine, your body slack, your face pale and lifeless. The wires pulse with what remains of your magic, twisting it into something unrecognisable. The sight sends a cold fury surging through her veins.

From the shadows behind you, the hunters emerge, their eyes gleaming with malice. “Well, well, if we’d known this was all it took to lure the great Agatha Harkness, we’d have done it years ago,” one of them sneers.

Agatha’s voice is low and dangerous. “You shouldn’t have touched Y/N.”

The fight is brutal. Agatha moves like a force of nature, her magic slamming into the hunters with a ferocity she rarely shows. One by one, they fall, her anger giving her no room for restraint. “You dared to hurt them?” she shouts, her voice echoing as she sends a hunter crashing into the wall. Another disintegrates in a flash of violet light as she hurls a spell with deadly precision. Her fury is as unstoppable as it is justified, every attack laced with her rage and anguish.

—

The room is quiet now, save for the hum of the machine still feeding on your magic. Agatha rushes to your side, her hands trembling as she frees you from the clips and chains. You slump into her arms, your body too weak to hold itself up.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” she murmurs, her voice soft but urgent. Her hands cup your face, brushing away strands of hair. Your eyes flutter open, hazy but still searching for hers.

“Agatha…” Your voice is faint, but it’s enough to break her.

She lifts you into her arms with ease, holding you close. “I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I should have been here sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you rasp. “You found me. That’s enough.”

Agatha’s lips tremble as she smiles, her protective instincts taking over. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

—

The moment the two of you cross the threshold of your shared home, the adrenaline that has kept you upright vanishes. Your knees buckle, but Agatha is there, her strong arms catching you before you hit the floor. She doesn’t say a word, just holds you close, her cheek resting against the top of your head. After a moment, she whispers, “Come, darling. Let me take care of you.”

She leads you to the bathroom, her hand steady on the small of your back, guiding you as if you might drift away. The familiar space, once a refuge of routine, now feels foreign in your state of exhaustion. Agatha waves a hand, and the bathtub fills itself, the water shimmering faintly with a soft healing magic.

Agatha helps you sit on the edge of the tub, her movements slow and deliberate as she begins undressing you from your torn, bloodied clothing. You flinch when her fingers brush against a bruise on your arm, and she freezes, her eyes searching yours with worry. “I’m sorry, my love. I’ll be gentle,” she murmurs, her voice soft as a caress.

When you’re finally settled in the warm water, it takes a moment for your body to adjust. The heat seeps into your muscles, loosening the tension, though your heart still races from the memory of what you’ve endured. Agatha kneels beside the tub, dipping a soft cloth into the water before running it over your skin. Her touch is featherlight, avoiding every cut and bruise with care.

She works in silence at first, her focus entirely on you, but then she begins to hum—a soothing, lilting melody you’ve never heard before but feel as though it has always been a part of you. Her voice wraps around you like a blanket, grounding you as she gently cleans the grime and dried blood from your body. Every now and then, she whispers words of reassurance. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. No one will hurt you again.”

As Agatha reaches your hands, brushing the cloth over the tender, raw skin where the chains had bitten into you, something inside you breaks. Tears well in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. Your shoulders begin to shake, and you let out a choked sob, burying your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice thick with shame. “I should’ve been stronger, but I couldn’t—I just—”

“Shh, no,” Agatha interrupts gently, setting the cloth aside and leaning over the edge of the tub to pull you into her arms. The water soaks her sleeves, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You were strong,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your temple. “You survived, sweetheart. That’s all that matters.”

You cling to her, your tears soaking into her shirt as sobs wrack your body. Every emotion you’ve bottled up—fear, pain, helplessness—pours out of you in a torrent. Agatha holds you through it all, her hands stroking your hair and trailing soothing patterns down your back.

“It’s over now,” she whispers. “You don’t have to hold it together anymore. I’m here, my love. I’ll always be here.”

Her words are an anchor, grounding you as the storm inside you begins to subside. The safety of her embrace makes the world feel bearable again, even if only for a moment.

—

After the bath, Agatha wraps you in the softest robe you own, bundling you up like she’s shielding you from the world. She carries you to your shared bedroom, settling you onto the bed as if you’re the most fragile thing in existence.

She climbs in beside you without hesitation, pulling you into her arms and tucking the blankets around both of you. Her warmth surrounds you, her heartbeat steady against your ear. “Close your eyes, darling,” she murmurs, her voice like honey. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let yourself relax against her, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. Just as you begin to drift off, you hear her humming again, the same soothing melody from before. It wraps around you like a spell, lulling you further into sleep.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your forehead. “No one will ever hurt you again. You’re mine to protect.”

Her words stay with you as sleep pulls you under, the fear and pain replaced by the comfort of her love. Even as your consciousness fades, you feel her hand stroking your hair, her presence anchoring you to the safety of home.

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter five - I will wait

Pairing: pre- poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: You spend the day telling people you're leaving, getting dragged into a fight, and having a somewhat honest conversation with Legend. Hyrule is having a very bad time, Four would like everyone to get their shit together so he can have a turn with a breakdown, and Epona is definitely my favorite. (Aka: I drop a bunch of information, smack everyone with the angst stick, and gloss over like three sort of concerning things)

Warnings: cursing, Canon typical violence, angst, blood

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous masterlist Next

------

Morning comes with little fanfare.

Warriors wakes you up carefully, informing you it's time to be alert. You groan, but get up.

You set about getting ready for the day and putting things in the enchanted bag Wind gave you. (The kid is a life saver!)

Once you've gotten your things packed, you find yourself pulling Wind and Sky aside to tell them about your decision before everyone else.

You consider simply not telling them. You could just slip away. You could avoid saying goodbye.

You hate goodbyes.

You could avoid any possible confrontation.

That isn't right, though. Even with all the strange tension the group deserves to know you're leaving. They deserve to know there's one less person to feed.

Wind and Sky especially deserve to know. They've both been so good to you.

It would be a coward's choice to simply disappear and appealing as it is... you know it's wrong.

Wind and Sky deserve better.

Being a better and more healed version of yourself is hard and sucks sometimes. Making mature decisions sucks.

You take a deep breath and try to prepare yourself before you do this.

"Can I talk to you two?" You ask as you approach Wind and Sky.

"Yeah, of course!" Wind answers.

"Sure." Sky says.

You offer a soft smile. "I wanted to tell both of you something before the others."

"That's ominous." Sky says with a weak smile.

"What's going on?" Wind asks, tilting his head.

You take a deep breath. "I'm staying at the next town."

"What?" Sky croaks, eyes going wide.

He looks a little sea sick, but you can't imagine why.

"I'm not going to leave with you, I'll stay at the next town."

"Why?" Wind asks, sounding tense.

You give a weak smile. "I'm not a fighter like you guys. Besides... I'm slowing you all down. I think we can all agree I'm not exactly an adventuring expert."

There's a beat of silence.

"No one is at first," Sky says gently, quick to reassure you.

"Maybe not. But I'm staying at the next town." You say, trying to sound firm without sounding callous.

Wind rolls his eyes. "If this is because Legend is being a little bitch-"

"It's not." You say quickly. "I'm having a lot of things going on in my head, and I need space to sort through them."

"Oh." Wind deflates.

Sky gives you a look somewhere between guilt and relief. "If you're sure."

"I am." You say.

It really does seem like the best plan anyway.

"You're sure this isn't about Legend being a dickbag?" Wind asks.

You snort, "It's not that."

"Fine." Wind sighs. "If this is what you want."

"It is." You say.

Sky gives you a tired smile. "I'm sorry you got dragged into all of this."

"It's not your fault." You say, "Thank you for helping me out."

"Of course." Sky says with a strange hitch of his breath.

Wind rolls his eyes, "What were we supposed to do, leave you there?"

"You could have."

"Who does that?" The teen scoffs.

You shrugs, "Some people."

"Not us." Wind says.

"Not you." The agreement is pulling itself from wherever those strange dreams are from. You believe it, though.

Your The heroes aren't the type to leave anyone stranded like that.

Wind sighs. "Does anyone else know?"

"Time, and Four because he was there when I told Time."

"Four?" Sky blinks.

You nod. "Yes."

"If you're staying at the town, could you send a letter for me?" Wind asks.

You agree, of course you can! It's no work and he's done so much for you.

You let the news sit until after Wild has given everyone breakfast. You sit with Wind, of course. The boy is currently glaring at Legend as if the man did something personal.

Weird.

Why is the sailor so mad at Legend?

Did the veteran say something?

"I have something to tell all of you," You say, words feeling far heavier than you want to acknowledge or admit.

It shouldn't be so hard to tell a group of people that don't seem to want you around that you're leaving.

But...

The dreams....

Something makes it feel wrong to leave. Something is your heart says you're meant to he with this group.

(But that is absolutely ridiculous... right?)

All eyes turn to you except Wind, who is still giving Legend dirty looks.

"What is it?" Warriors asks, brow raising as he appraises your behavior.

"I'll be staying at the next town we find." You say, trying to bite back the abject bitterness about leaving.

"What?" Wild manages.

"Why?" Hyrule asks, face looking like you've struck him.

Okay...

Why do any of them care? You seem to just make them uncomfortable anyway.

"I've got some things to sort out, but I'm also not really a fighter. We all know I'm slowing you down."

"You are not." Sky says.

You smile, "I definitely am."

"It's- not your fault." Wild tries to reassure.

That's very sweet of him.

You laugh a little, "Either way, I'm staying at the next town."

"Are you sure?" Warriors asks.

"Yes."

"Well... Good luck." Four offers tightly.

Legend stays silent, not looking at you. The break is nice, in all honesty.

"I do want to say thanks to all of you, for helping me out and making sure I don't die." You offer with a smile.

"It's not a big deal." Twilight waves off.

"It's what anyone would do." Hyrule says.

You shake your head. "Not anyone."

"It's what we do." Time says.

"You are heroes." You smile a little.

"So we hear." Legend scoffs, glaring at the ground.

You sigh, turning back to your breakfast. This hasn't been the worst interaction, but it hasn't been the best either.

"Don't let him bring you down." Wind nudges you.

"I'm not." You say.

"Good." Sky smiles weakly.

Wind just sighs. "I'm going to miss you. No one else is as fun."

"Hey!" Wild gasps.

You laugh, letting the apprehension from before melt away. There's still an ending that almost seems to loom despite the relief you know you'll receive... but things are good.

Here, in this little bubble made up of you, a teenage scallywag, a grieving but friendly bird lover, and a horse, things are good.

Here you are safe.

All you have to do is ignore the dreams and half memories of your boys the heroes you travel with.

-------

You take the extra sword and shield that Wild gives you, wearing it on your belt easily enough. Traveling seems both easier and harder now that you know you have a set end point for your adventure.

You may not know how many days before you find a town, but you know every step is a step closer to leaving this group. A step closer to leaving Wind, Sky, and Epona.

Today, you travel beside Four. He's rather quiet, but at least he isn't hostile.

Though... Legend hasn't said but one thing to you since yesterday. He won't look at you now...

It's an improvement.

His constant anger is exhausting.

Four may not be as fun to be around as Wind, or as friendly as Sky, but he does at least steady you if you trip.

He dosen’t give you dirty looks.

Four answers any questions you have with a steady patience, eyes almost glinting violet in the light.

The dirt road you trek along is as monotonous as you may think.

Epona keeps falling a little behind Twilight to get your attention. If you slip her an apple at some point, that's really just between you and Epona. Isn't it?

(Wind notices, and he accuses you of being a pushover for Epona. But what if you are? She's an angel!)

Blue skies with big puffy clouds seem to be common here. Today is no exception.

Wind is just behind you with Hyrule, in front of you Time and Twilight walk.

Epona trails a little behind Twilight, choosing to walk at your side instead.

You pass Epona a bit of carrot while you all stop before a rickety old bridge.

"How many is that?" Wind asks from behind you.

"Not as many as she deserves." You flash a grin over your shoulder.

"Why do you like her so much?" Four asks.

You turn to look at him, and for a moment, you swear his eyes are red...

You hum, "She's a good girl. How could anyone not like her?"

"I guess that's fair." Four says, voice a little too far away.

"You okay, smithy?" Wild asks.

"I'm fine." Four says.

The man isn't particularly convincing, but you aren't sure how to bring it up.

There's the sound of rustling and hooves.

You turn, several others turning with you to find the new sound.

A blue lynel surges forward.

"Fuck me." You hiss.

Maybe it's not polite but really, lynels are evil and awful.

"You have the worst curses." Wind snorts.

Twilight turns and presses Epona's reins into your hands without warning, "Take Epona and get outta here. We'll find ya later."

You feel like you're supposed to argue and try to pull your own weight... but you've never fought a lynel in real life, and getting killed seems bad.

So, taking Epona and leaving it will be.

You grip her reigns and take a deep breath.

Scanning the area, you see a path through the trees that is more of a dirt road truly.

Epona can run faster than you...

The boys launch into fight, and you make the executive decision that riding Epona is a great idea.

You clamber up onto Epona, clumsy and panicking. As soon as you settle your weight on her saddle, you click your tounge, squeezing your knees to her sides for a second.

Regardless of your level of experience with horses, you can safely say you've never had to ride a horse while running from an evil centaur being.

Epona takes off into a gallop towards the path in the trees.

You can hear the others fighting, but for your own sanity, you focus on the reigns in your hands.

"When did they learn to ride a horse?!" Someone calls from behind you.

"FOCUS ON THE FIGHT!" Legend calls back, making more sense than you want to examine.

("Focus on the fight, firefly!" A man calls to you, the smell of malice wafts through the air.)

You need your brain to stop doing these things.

Epona breaks the tree line and jumps over a fallen log without stopping. She dosen’t seem to need much instruction.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart." You tell her, white knuckliing the reigns.

You don't pull on the leather in your hands.

If Epona has a plan, you aren't going to argue.

There's a whistling before a pain blooms in your shoulder.

An arrow connects in your shoulder. And you curse.

Looking over, you see several lizafos and a few like likes.

Shit!

You snap the reigns and squeeze your heels to Epona. "Come on, girl, hurry up."

You glance back and nearly scream. There's a shadow there - ripping through the enemies. It looks a lot like dark Link-

You snap the reigns again. You are not dealing with this.

You need a huge pay raise to deal with this, starting with getting paid at all.

Sometimes fighting is a great choice. This is not one of those times. Fighting an evil demon version of a hero seems like a great way to lose.

Epona starts running, clearing obstacles.

You lean forward, dropping the reigns to hug her neck. You might actually die.

"Fucking Bezos." You huff.

You aren't actually sure how this could be his fault but it sounds good.

The shadow ir whatever that is seems focused on the monsters while Epona runs.

Epona runs until she sees a clearing and then she stops.

You groan, getting off her back and looking at the artow in your shoulder. Ow.

This is such-

There's a panicking whiney from Epona.

You turn, eyes falling onto the Bokoblin who just attacked her with a bat.

What an ass! No one hurts Epona!

Ever.

Rage courses through you.

You take your sword in hand, using the arm without the arrow, of course.

Rushing forwards you engage with the blue bokoblin.

"Not my horse, fuck head!" You growl.

You dodge a sweep of the beasts' club.

Swing.

Duck.

Stab.

Pivot-

Epona nickers, bucking the air and slamming her back hooves into the beasts head.

"Good girl!" You praise.

You deal the finishing blow while the beast is down.

The moment the threat is gone you begin to crash, pain flaring in your shoulder where the arrow still is. Exhaustion seeps into your body.

Epona comes over and nudges your good shoulder.

"Hey, sweetheart." You smile softly.

She chuffs at you.

You laugh softly, "Are you okay, pretty girl?"

She nudges you again before walking forwards so your good arm brushes your arm.

"Are you offering to let me lean on you?" You ask.

Epona chuffs again.

You laugh weakly, energy waning too fast as you lean on her with your good side.

"What a sweet girl." You smile softly.

You sigh, looking at the arrow in your shoulder. The next town can't come soon enough.

Unfortunately you have no fairy or potion, so you suppose you'll just have to wait for the boys to find you.

Hopefully it isn't Legend, you aren't sure you can deal with his attitude right now.

You hear movement before you see it.

"(Y/n)?" A voice calls.

That sounds like Time.

Time emerges with Hyrule amd Wind in tow, gaze falling to you with a hiss of "Goddesses."

"Hi." You say, going to wave with your bad arm and wincing.

"You're hurt." Hyrule frowns.

"At least you left it in." Wind sighs.

"Are the others okay?"

"They're fine." Time says firmly, voice stern even though his hands shake.

You nods. "Good."

"Let me heal you." Hyrule says.

"You don't have to. I'm sure I'll be fine-"

"Don't be stubborn." Wind snorts.

"Fine. Thank you, Hyrule." You say.

Hyrule swallows hard as he comes closer. He won't look at your face but he is unnaturally pale while he stares at your wound.

His hands shake as he reaches up to break the long end of the arrow.

"You have monster blood on you." Wind says as he looks you over.

"Good." You manage, "Stupid thing attacked Epona."

"She isn't bleeding, at least."

"Just bruised- Shit!" You hiss out as the arrow his pulled from your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, honeybee." Hyrule says.

What did he just say?

"What?"

"I know it hurts." Hyrule soothes.

Why did he call you 'honey bee'? Maybe... maybe you misheard?

(You can almost imagine his voice calling you that as he points out stars above you...)

Hyrule's magic washes over you and it feels like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. It's like honeysuckle and summer night breezes.

It feels right. The magic feels like coming home to hot chocolate in a blizzard. It weaves into your being like it's meant to be there.

Those dreams are really messing with your head....

"We're glad you're okay." Time says tightly.

"I'm glad you're all okay." You offer.

"We're heroes, of course we're olay!" Wind declares with a grin.

You can't figure it out.

Time looks like he's pained but you can't find any injury.

Hyrule pulls his hand back from you, magic leaving with them. "Feel better?"

"Yes. Thank you." You smile.

"It's what I do." Hyrule waves off.

"We should go back to the group." Time says.

"Sure, just hang on." You say, procuring another bit of carrot and turning to Epona.

She takes the carrot from your hand happily.

"Really?" Wind laughs.

You nod, putting both hands on Epona's cheeks. "You're such a good girl, sweetheart. You kicking that beast was awesome!"

"She- she kicked a monster?" Time asks, sounding like he might fall over.

You nod happily, "Shs did! It was amazing!"

"Epona is pretty good." Hyrule nods.

Epona just gives a happy snort at your shoulder, as if she is checking that it's better now.

"She is."

"She must like you." Time says.

"I hope so." You smile.

"Let's head back, Wild is making lunch." Wind says, tugging you firward by the hand.

You let him lead you back to the group, Epona, following you with Time and Hyrule in the back.

The walk is slower on foot but you don't mind. Epona deserves a break.

Wind tugs you along until you break the trees and can see the others.

Sky sees you and makes his way over. "Hey."

"Hi." You offer. "You okay?"

"We're just tired. That thing had black blood." Sky waves off. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Hyrule healed me so I'm good." You shrug, grateful to be pain free in your shoulders.

Sky frowns, "What happened?"

"An arrow got me, but I'm okay."

Wind grins. "They had the good sense to leave it in until it could be treated."

"Oh." Sky squeaks.

You are sure why. Maybe Sky is squeamish? Maybe Hyrule is too actually...

Weird.

But monster blood is different...

Oh well.

"Wild should be just about done with lunch. Come on!" Wind says as he tugs you over to the cook.

Things aren't perfect, and you're still going to leave them behind... but it's nice right now.

Wind's enthusiasm and some good food do wonders for your mood.

You even get a little cat nap in thanks to Sky.

-------

Legend takes second watch, sending Four off to bed with a yawn and a knowing look. He knows he needs to do perimeter, but first, he wants to make sure everyone is okay.

Sky is half out of his bedroll, face in the pillow and snoring lightly.

You and Wind are near Sky. Wind is sprawled over you, acting half as a blanket thanks to his propensity to moving in his sleep.

You seem peaceful enough, face pressed into the pillow.

Wind flips over and is no longer on you, sprawling sideways out of his bedroll towards Wild. The champion is sleeping like a log.

Hyrule and Twilight sleep near the fire.

Four goes to sleep near Time, the two of them both closer to the fire.

Warriors sleeps on his back, near Sky again.

Legend sets about doing a perimeter check, careful to be as thorough as he can be. He won't let haste doom them.

After his check of the perimeter, Legend goes to sit near the fire again. He's awake enough, but the warmth is always welcome.

After all of his adventures, he's chronically a little cold.

He hears shifting, looking over towards where it is coming from, he finds you.

You're struggling against the blankets in your bed roll, brows knit together.

You make a soft sound.

"Link!" You manage weakly, still asleep.

Legend just stares at you. What are you dreaming that has you acting like this?

You kick your blanket off, continuing to fight against some unknown force.

There's a traitorous part of him that wants to comfort you. The part the hopes against reason that you're his lover who's been reincarnated again, just like always.

He pushes that part down.

"Link look out - she's behind you - Link!" Your voice is small even in your panic. He only hears you because he's awake.

Your face is scrunched up as your arm reaches up.

You bolt upright, eyes flying open with a choked gasp of a name. "Hilda -"

Oh.

Oh no.

You're breathing heavy and Legend -

Legend is having a breakthrough.

"You good?" Legend manages to get out.

Your head whips towards him, shoulders loosening when you see him. You swallow thickly.

"I'm - yeah... yeah... sorry." You manage to get out.

"It's fine." Legend says.

It isn't fine, actually, but that's not your fault.

What he just witnessed shakes lose memories of his lost lover who had the same nightmares about Hilda hurting him over and over.

They - the dreams looked just like whatever you woke up from.

Little details start falling into place.

It's you.

You're here.

What are you doing here?!

Oh.

Oh no.

Legend has been so rude to you. He's been a real piece of shit.

Honestly, he's ashamed. Even if you weren't his soulmate, reincarnated how he's behaved is atrocious. Wild is right about that.

You're still sitting up, trying to slow your breathing down when he looks over again, trying to slow your mind and heart down.

You're- as breathtaking as you've ever been. You always have been, even before he figured out that you really are - well... you.

Have you been having dreams like this from previous lives... the whole time?

Does your Link know?

Where is your Link? You haven't said anything about him at all.

Do you... have a Link? Did he pass?

Have you met him yet?

Legend has about a million questions and no voice to ask with.

He can't help wondering if you know. Do you know who you are?

What you are?

Do you know why they've all been struggling around you?

Can... Can you forgive him for how awful he's been to you?

Legend could kick himself for all of it.

Should...

Should he tell the others?

Is it kinder not to tell them because you're leaving again and staying at the next town?

He probably shouldn't tell them.

What's one more secret?

Legend absolutely owes you an apology, though. Maybe a hundred apologies.

He looks at you again.

You're sitting up, knees drawn to your chest as you try to slow your breathing. You look exhuasted.

How long have you been having dreams from past lives?

"It's not real." You whisper.

Legend swallows hard. He closes his eyes before he opens them and does what he should have done before he ever figured out that, in fact, his beloved trinket.

You are a person, and ever reincarnation soulmate or not, you deserve better from him.

"Do you want to join me?" Legend asks.

Your head whips over to look at him. "I don't want to intrude -"

"I'm offering." He says.

You get up, silently crossing the space to sit on the log with him. There's space between the two of you.

Legend can feel the urge to reach out and pull your close bubble up.

He dosen’t. He dosen’t have that right anymore, especially not after his behavior.

He shouldn't have taken his grief out on you at all, regardless of if you're you or not.

Goddesses. How long has he wasted with you?

"Bad night?" He asks stiffly.

You nod. "Yeah."

"Damn." He says.

You snort, side eyeing him. "Thanks."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" He asks as he looks you over.

You shrug. "Won't matter. Just a lot of weird dreams. Some are nice. Some aren't."

"That sucks."

"It does." You agree. "It's not the biggest problem, though. My sword skills are hit or miss, and I think I might have to fight Twilight for custody of Epona before I leave she seems to like me."

"She does." He agrees, trying to ignore the twinge in his chest at the reminder that you are leaving. "It drives Twilight up a wall. He's jealous."

He knows it's better this way.

He knows that the town will keep you safe from the danger of this quest.

He knows it's for the best.

But it's still losing you.

Again.

He's not even sure he'll find the words to apologize properly before you leave

"He shouldn't be, Epona adores him."

Legend just shrugs. "I don't understand cowboy feelings."

You laugh a little, tense and shaking. But it's the first laugh he's gotten out of you in a long time.

He's missed it. He's missed the way your laugh sounds.

"He's a boyscout who loves his horse." You muse, eyes softening in the firelight. "I guess you don't have Boy Scouts here, do you?"

The question is a genuine one, your gaze turning to him again.

"Uh, no clue what that shit is." Legend shrugs.

Goddesses! How is he supposed to act?!

You obviously don't know about the soulmate reincarnated thing. He can tell, he knows you, and your mannerisms are the same.

If you knew... You'd confront him about it. You wouldn't let them agonize like this if you knew.

He doesn't want to tell you. You don't seem familiar with Hyrule, so he's not sure you've even heard about the soulmates thing.

Besides, before just now, he's been a complete jackass to you!

He's kicking himself for it, but he would bet if he went from that to saying your his soulmate that your head would spin. You wouldn't believe him.

"It's something kids do. They learn survival and camping and sell popcorn." You explain.

"Huh." Legend manages.

"Can... I ask you something?" You ask.

"Sure."

"Did I do something to you?" Your question is fair, but the way you stare into the fire to avoid looking at him hurts.

"No. You didn't..." Legend weighs his options, the way this could play out. He makes his decision. "You just - You're too much like someone I lost."

"Oh." You say, understanding blooming in your lovely eyes.

"Look... I know I've been a real shit, and I know taking my problems out on you isn't fair. I'm sorry I've acted like a real..." Legend pauses, looking for the right words.

"Fucking asshole?" You offer with a half smile.

"Yeah," He breathes out. "I've been a real fucking asshole."

"Your behavior sucks. But, I forgive you, as long as you try to do better." You tell him. "I don't understand it all, but I know grief."

You have always been too forgiving of him.

Legend snorts. "Yeah."

"I don't expect you to be warm and cuddly." You crack a weak smile. "If you could just stop glaring at me all the time, I'd be thrilled."

"Yeah... I've really been an asshole."

"A little." You agree.

Legend raises one eye brow. "Just a little?"

"Okay a lot."

"I know." Legend says.

He does know. He knows because Wild shouted some sense into him. He knows because he examined himself. He knows because of how you watch him wearily.

Legend feels his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you close and keep you warm and safe in his embrace.

He ignores that urge for so many reasons. The biggest reason being that you have shown zero inclination to want that from him.

You seem less tense now, shoulders only a little tense as you watch him.

It's a start.

-------

Hyrule spends most of the morning hovering near you, right up until Four pulls him away to go gather more firewood for the slate. The fae wants so badly to fight but he knows he is being strange about you.

It's just-

Everyone has a capability for magic, even if the ability is technically so minute it's inconsequential. As a fae Hyrule is very good at magic and can sense magic in others.

When he was healing you yesterday... he felt your magic.

Your magic isn't anything particularly impressive. The magic you possess is enough to use potions and elemental rods but not enough to do a whole lot more.

There's nothing wrong with that, you have rather average magical thresholds so you aren't in danger of potion sickness.

The problem with your magic is that it is yet another almost identical trait you share with his honeybee. Your magic feels like home in ways he thought he could never feel again.

Hyrule has to be losing his mind.

"You need to get your head on right." Four says, interrupting the other man's spiral.

Hyrule looks over and swallows hard. "Right."

"What happened yesterday?" Four asks, eyes almost looking red for a second.

Hyrule takes a slow breath, readjusting the wood in his arms. "They got hurt yesterday... when I was healing them- their magic is- Why do they have to be so much like my honeybee?"

Four sighs. "I don't know."

"Is there any chance they're our (Y/n)?"

"I wouldn't get your hopes up." Four says firmly, eyes glinting blue for a moment.

Hyrule feels his face crumple. "I just-"

"I know." Four says, "We all know. But getting your hopes up is only going to hurt yourself worse."

"It already hurts."

Four takes a slow breath, pushing Blue's anger and Red's tears away. He understands both feelings and would love to give in to either, but he can't fall apart right now.

Right now, the blacksmith needs to keep it together against the grief beating in his heart and the splitting headache he can't escape.

"Hyrule, grief never goes away completely but you can drown in it. Our soulmate would hate to see you drown I it."

"Four..."

"You just have to hold on until we reach the next town."

Hyrule winces, "I don't know if I can."

"You have to." Four says with nothing but empathy. "We all have to."

"Just until the next town?"

"Just until then."

Hyrule sighs, swallowing hard. "Okay."

Four looks back the way they came, "We should head back."

"Who's supposed to be protecting them today?" Hyrule asks.

"I think that's Twilight and Wild."

"Okay." Hyrule says.

Four gives a weak smile, eyes almost looking green. "We're going to be okay."

"I know."

"Come on, we should hurry. Legend was being weird and I really don't want to deal with Wind trying to set the vet on fire with dirty looks." Four says as he turns to head back.

Hyrule gives a weak, performatory laugh. "Yeah... me neither."

The two make their way back to camp, silence filtering heavy in the air.

When they get back they nearly drop the woof in their arms.

You and Wind are sparring with the wooden swords again, except this time Legend is laughing when you trip over air but he offers you his hand silently.

Four is pretty sure something is weird. Legend went from so hostile you two didn't share any positive interactions to withdrawn, and now he's offering to help you up.

"Is that a changeling?" Hyrule whispers.

"I don't know."

"What did we miss?" Hyrule wonders.

Four just sighs, "Who knows."

They watch you take Legend's hand with a 'thanks'.

Hyrule sighs. "At least Wind dosen’t have to be pissy."

"Be nice." Four huffs, the tug of his lips gives him away, though.

Hyrule and Four take one last moment to remind themselves that this is just until the next town. They can pull through.

They have to.

--------

In the trees, a panther lounges, watching the group of heroes, but the animal's interest lies far more in the horse and the non-hero.

It's almost time for the large cat to introduce themself. The next town is soon, and the feline is tired of playing the long game.

By nightfall, the panther should finally be able to get to the non-hero.

Soon.

Soon, everything will be much better.

-------

Next

Tag list: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23 @shu-leepy @sleepifonlyigoti @sour-patch-delight

[txttletale]

for those in the audience who don't play mtg, could you elaborate on what aspects of the card's design/interaction with the rules makes beans such a pain in the ass?

(we're talking about this cunt)

right, basic info first: in magic the gathering, you can't cast spells for free like in yugioh, nor do you gain mana each turn like in hearthstone. you need to play 'lands', which are cards that do nothing except tapping for mana so you can play your other cards. by default, you're limited to playing one land per turn from your hand, but certain spells and abilities (collectively called 'ramp', after rampant growth) let you circumvent this limit.

so: beans draws you a card when you play a card that costs five mana or more. it's designed to reward playing ramp-heavy big-mana strategies (the blue/green archetype for wilds of eldraine limited) by providing a payoff for cards that are normally weak because of how much investment they need--cards that cost a lot of mana either need to come down comparatively late in a match or need you to spend your first few turns ramping while your opponent is free to punch you in the face repeatedly. so beans is printed as a support piece to the WoE ramp archetype, seems sensible.

the problem is, this isn't how it's actually shaken out in constructed play, because there's a lot of cards in standard right now that ''cost'' five mana but have significant discounts stapled on. the most egregious example being the interaction between overlord of the hauntwoods and the domain mechanic (represented here by leyline binding)

so, you have beans out. you cast overlord of the hauntwoods for its 'impending' cost -- despite only paying 3 mana, you've technically "cast a spell with mana value 5", so beans draws you a card. because overlord creates a token with every basic land type (there are five basic land types), you can now cast leyline binding for an eyewateringly cheap one mana -- but again, beans doesn't care about how much mana you actually spent, just what the mana cost printed on the card is.

so if it sticks beans, the domain/overlords deck (where bean is by far the most problematic, although there's more niche archetypes like simic terror/crab where it plays a role) ends up in a situation where nearly every card in its deck is a cantrip (mtg term for a spell that draws a card when you cast it, therefore replacing itself). this negates the biggest downside of these greedy bomb-filled types of decks in that it makes it nearly impossible for the domain player to run out of resources. the only way to beat domain is to go under it.

okay, so--stop them from sticking beans, right? it is very easy to destroy enchantments, there's even some really good modal enchantment removal in standard right now so you don't have to fully dedicate a mainboard slot to what could be a dead hand:

here's the thing, though: there's two things about beans that make this an inadequate solution. #1 is that it only costs two mana, and the beans player can start going card positive on it the turn after it comes down. to answer this efficiently you have to destroy it the turn it comes down or the turn after. but the thing is, the best non-domain decks (esper pixie, rx mice) are playing cheap, impactful, synergistic creatures--casting a 2-mana spot removal piece on turn 2 or 3 is a serious setback to their gameplan. and the worst part of all: even if you do that, you're left behind, becaues beans replaces itself.

this is the part that i personally think makes it such a huge problem card: the seemingly innocuous bit of text that says up the beanstalk draws a card when it enters. cards are the most valuable resource in magic. you can have all the mana in the world and it doesn't matter if you don't have cards to play with it. having more cards than your opponent ("card advantage") is a serious boon that makes you significantly more likely to win--the more cards in your hand, the more likely you're holding answers to their threats and game-winning threats of your own.

so let's say that you and the beans player both have, i dunno, six cards in hand. they play beans and draw a card. you pawpatch formation it on their end step. the end result of this exchange is that the boardstate is the exact same but they have six cards in hand and you have five! this is what makes beans feel so oppressive imo, that even answering it immediately starts slipping you into the chokehold of snowballing resource advantage that defines the overlord/domain decks

tldr: it is pushed just that little bit too much to take it from a must-answer play to a play that is essentially unanswerable unless you've got your hearthfire/manifold/monstrous rage/turn inside out combo ready to pop next turn

[jmliebert]

♡♡♡ domestic bliss with gale ♡♡♡

a lot of gentle touches and sincere "I love you"s

Gale makes you breakfast almost everyday (obviously)

sometimes when the mood takes him, he'll even do something like heart-shaped pancakes and despite it being cliche you can't help but feel your heart soften by the gesture

on special mornings, he'll even bring breakfast to you in bed, a tray laden with your favourites (he knows you very well)

and let me just say he always leaves the kitchen tidy. he may be a little messy sometimes, his (and now yours too) place may be a little cluttered, but he's a tidy wizard and clean up after himself period !!!

while we are talking about the kitchen....you had steamy sex over the counter more times that you can count

during the day, when he's immersed in his studies, you often bring him a steaming cup of coffee or a tasty snack

you sneak behind him and start massaging his shoulders, and he groans at the touch with appreciation, tenderly kissing your hands

but you're not always as merciful; seeing him hunched over his books, his brow furrowed in concentration does something for you; makes you want to melt away his stress with different type of distraction...and he's so easy to tease :))

but what I want to talk about more is simple moments you share together; like when Gale prepares a meal you hum a tune and wash the dishes, stealing little kisses from him that leave you both smiling;

you hug him from behind when he's cutting the vegetables and it feels so good to feel warmth of his body and the rhythm of his heart;

you can't resist giving his cute, small ass a cheeky squeeze, which makes him jump and laugh and then tutting and calling you a bad girl with his index finger pointed into the air (he wants to sound angry but fails)

and you can always feel his gaze on you filled with a quiet, unwavering affection

your dinners are often a candlelit affairs, filled with soft smiles and meaningful conversation. as the sun slowly fades over the horizon, you sit on the balcony, basking in the golden glow, sharing quiet moments over books (you read a lot of books at this household)

sometimes you talk about everything and nothing (gale often ranting at his students) and sometimes you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder while he still reads, or you fall asleep on his lap, as he gently massages your scalp, his fingers threading through your hair making you all cozy and cared for

sometimes during the night Gale is stargazing with you, pointing out constellations and sharing the mythology behind them, with knowing hands he gently guides your body as you peer through the telescope

I can also imagine you two spending your evenings by the fireplace with glasses of wine in hand and an enchanted piano playing softly in the background. Gale arm wrapped securely around you, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin unconsciously

Gale often runs hot bath for you, joining you in the warm water. his hands move in soft circles, washing your hair, his lips leaving tender kisses on the back of your neck and not soon after you feel his growing erection poking at your back

you brush teeth side by side, and Gale watches in awe as you go through your skincare routine, simply enchanted. he loves the scent of your lotion and can’t resist leaning in to inhale the fragrance of your skin, murmuring compliments that make you blush

then you are slipping into comfy pyjamas <33 your sheets are always fresh and clean (not a single crumb on your mattress!) all ready for your nightly cuddles and whispered conversations

in bed you both read (I said before; a lot of reading)

Gale never forgets to kiss your forehead goodnight

sometimes you’re the little spoon, snuggled safely in his arms, other times he’s nestled against you, seeking your warmth. and often, you simply sleep with your head resting on his chest or his on yours, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your hand

Gale, who has spent so long alone, quickly adapts to sharing his life with you. you fit right in, he finds some peace when he's with you; quickly he can't imagine you not being here with him

when you are not around he finds it difficult to sleep, often spending the night in his study until dawn, the shadows under his eyes deepening with each hour of your absence

he's miserable without you :((

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

I'm sick rn, in my bed all day long (I'm losing my mind) and needed some gale fluff to feel better so!

[astra-ravana]

Sound In Magick

Sound has been used in magick and ritual practices across nearly every spiritual and mystical tradition, because it is one of the most primordial forces—vibrating through all levels of existence. In magick, sound is more than just a sensory experience; it is a tool of transformation, manifestation, and alignment.

The Foundational Principle: Vibration

In Hermeticism (especially the Kybalion), one of the fundamental laws is:

“All is vibration.”

Sound is vibratory energy, and when directed with intention, it can shift consciousness, environments, and outcomes.

Types Of Sound In Magick

Voice (Chanting, Speaking, Whispering):

• Chanting (mantras, divine names, affirmations)- Repetition of sacred phrases raises energy and focuses intent. Often used in Wicca, ceremonial magick, and Eastern traditions. Examples include “So mote it be,” “Om,” “Eh-heh-yay,” etc.

• Spoken Words / Enchantments- Words of power are believed to shape reality. The act of naming or commanding (e.g., “I banish thee…”) holds deep magical authority. In chaos magick, sigils are activated with spoken intent.

• Whispers or Breath Magick- Used in folk magick for secrecy or stealth (e.g., whispering into herbs or charms). Breath combined with spoken words transfers life force (prana, chi) into the object.

Musical Instruments (Drums, Bells, Bowls, Rattles):

• Drums- Used in shamanic and tribal traditions to induce trance states or call spirits. Beat mimics the heartbeat of the Earth—steady rhythm grounds and aligns.

• Bells- Clear stagnant energy and banish negativity. Used in ritual openings or closings. In some traditions, they “wake up” spirits or deities.

• Singing Bowls / Gongs- Create harmonic frequencies that balance chakras or sacred spaces. Used for healing, meditation, and raising vibrational resonance.

• Rattles- Shake up and move energy, break energetic blocks. Often used in indigenous or animistic practices.

Tones and Frequencies:

• Solfeggio Frequencies- Specific tones thought to heal, cleanse, and activate different aspects of being. Examples: 396 Hz (liberation from fear), 528 Hz (DNA repair, love).

• Binaural Beats- Used in modern magick to alter consciousness—help induce theta (trance) or gamma (mystic unity) brain states. Often paired with visualization or journeying practices.

• Harmonics and Drones- Used in eastern tantra and western esotericism to induce deep trance or inner stillness. Drones dissolve linear time, anchoring the mind in timeless space.

Music:

• Ritual Music- Custom compositions or ambient tracks are used to build atmosphere, open portals, and align energy with specific deities, elements, or spirits. Often employed in Wicca, ceremonial magick, and Thelemic rites.

• Personal Power Songs- In shamanic traditions, practitioners discover or craft a song that embodies their spirit or their intent. These are used in healing, travel, or battle.

Elemental Correspondences:

• Air- Whistling, flute

• Fire- Drums, crackling sounds

• Water- Singing, flowing melodies

• Earth- Deep tones, stomps, didgeridoo

Sound As A Magickal Tool

• Raising Power- Chanting or drumming raises a group’s energy (in coven or circle work) before directing it toward a spell’s goal.

• Trance and Meditation- Monotone chanting or rhythmic music slows the brainwaves and opens the door to altered states—critical for astral projection, pathworking, or deep magick.

• Clearing and Consecration- A bell, tone, or clap of sound can banish negative entities or cleanse tools, rooms, or auras.

• Invocation and Evocation- Sound acts as a call or signal—vocal invocation draws spirits, gods, or forces; sound shapes the subtle energy that forms the bridge between realms.

• Creation of Sigils and Talismans- Whispering intent or chanting during the crafting of a sigil or talisman imbues it with life—turning symbol into spell.

Cultural Examples

• Vedic Hinduism: The universe is created through sound (Shabda)—Om being the primal sound.

• Kabbalah: Hebrew letters are said to carry vibrational power. Vocalizing them in rituals opens specific spiritual pathways.

• Druidry: Bardic traditions hold that song and poetry are magickal acts that can influence minds, nature, and spirit.

• Voodoo / Afro-Caribbean Traditions: Drumming and song are essential to call the Loa or Orishas.

Sound Magick In Practice (Examples)

• Chakra Alignment with Vocal Toning- Toning “LAM,” “VAM,” “RAM,” etc., to align each chakra during ritual.

• Bell & Candle Banishing- Ring a bell three times around a space while intoning a banishing phrase.

• Trance Drumming- 4–7 beats per second drum rhythm to induce a shamanic state and journey to the Lower or Upper World.

• Mantra Spellwork- Repeating a deity’s name or power word (e.g., “Brigid,” “Awen,” “Lux”) while visualizing your intent.

Sound in magick is not just decoration—it is a primary force of will and manifestation. It bridges the seen and unseen, the body and spirit, intention and outcome. Whether through ancient chants, primal drumbeats, sacred names, or crafted harmonics, sound moves energy, and with it, the world.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Are you still taking requests?

I was wonder if you could write for Mira!reader in Teen Team or if you want Zoey!reader since Zoey is your favorite

No pressure tho

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞!

Zoey!Reader

Note // RRRRGHHH YOU LIT THE BRAINN, yes I’m finna do Zoey!reader for this. It’s mainly how u work out as an individual duo with each member. It's mainly just Eve and Rex cause I have better experience writing those two the most.

Summary || the musical member of Teen Team! you can think up lyrics for your songs on the go and your moves are exceptionally deadly.

Atom Eve:

Emotion meets logic, spirit meets science. You and Eve are a beautifully balanced team. She’s measured and pragmatic; you’re driven by intuition and emotion. You ground her spiritual understanding of the world, and she expands your perspective on what change looks like in the material realm.

The team says you two are the moms—you being the “will smack a demon with a sacred blade for you” kind, and Eve the “gently rebuilding the world around you while holding your hand” type.

You trust each other’s instincts completely. Eve respects your Spirit Vision and mystical awareness more than any sensor tech. When you say “something’s coming,” she doesn’t ask questions—she’s already beside you, palms glowing.

You’re a battle duo that could take on armies. You create sacred energy weapons midair; Eve reshapes terrain into shields, platforms, or energy blasts. Fights with you two are beautiful and brutal.

Your knife-throwing precision is amplified by Eve mid-fight—she might redirect a missed throw or transmute a blade into crystal mid-flight to pierce demon armor.

If you ever run out of knives? She transmutes rubble into polished spiritual daggers. You enchant them with Spirit Magic. It’s seamless. It’s deadly. It’s art.

Your signature combo: "Purification Bloom" — you carve runes into the earth with your daggers; Eve supercharges the ground with molecular energy, creating an explosive wave of spirit-light that wipes out demonic corruption.

You’re both intensely private, so your connection is built in quiet moments: long silences watching the stars after patrol, sitting together in a ruined park she just rebuilt, you softly singing while she helps you clean your blades.

Eve sees the way you carry grief—for your fans, the souls lost to demons—and she never tries to fix it. She just sits with you in it. That’s part of why you love her as a person so much.

You admire her control, her compassion, and her constant drive to do better. She admires your raw strength, your fire, and the way your voice can shift from sacred hymns to throat-shattering rap verses.

Sometimes, you help her with her stress. You wrap her in a protective spirit barrier and just let her be. And sometimes, she helps you sleep when you’re haunted by spirit dreams—rearranging the molecules in your room to make it quieter, warmer, safer.

She was in awe the first time she heard you rap. Not just the rhythm—your lyrics had purpose, your delivery had power. You were a warrior and an artist. She couldn’t stop watching.

Once, she helped create the stage for a surprise rooftop fan concert you threw post-mission. She generated floating platforms with lightshows to match your beat. You called her your “stage angel”—she rolled her eyes, but she was glowing.

You’ve written verses about her. Not that she knows. (Okay, maybe she found your notebook and cried a little. She’ll never admit it.)

Your Golden Honmoon dream resonates deeply with Eve. She believes in reshaping the world for the better—and the idea of spiritually healing it strikes her as beautiful, vital, and worth fighting for.

She's fascinated by your Spirit Magic. You’ve spent hours explaining soul energy flows and demon corruption. She’s even helped you study it—scanning areas where Honmoon energy falters, calculating patterns.

You both believe that the world can be better—not just by destroying evil, but by rebuilding something sacred in its place.

Eve often finds herself wondering how you keep going—after everything you’ve lost. You tell her, “Because if I stop, they stay lost.” That stays with her. Always.

She’s never been one for spiritual stuff, but when you’re around, she finds herself believing—even just a little—that maybe souls linger. Maybe they sing.

You told her once, “You change matter. I change spirit. But maybe we’re both just trying to save the pieces people leave behind.”

That was the moment she realized she was in love with you.

Rex Splode:

You two are total chaos on the surface—bickering constantly, throwing jabs at each other mid-battle, arguing over music playlists during patrol.

But anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with you both knows it’s just your love language. You’re ride-or-die partners, and when it’s serious, the jokes drop and the synergy kicks in hard.

You balance each other—Rex is all reckless bravado, while you bring spiritual clarity and discipline (when you're not spitting fire in a rap battle).

Your powers are a lethal combo: Rex throws explosive objects, and you throw sacred knives and spirit-forged weapons. Together, it’s lightshow carnage with style.

You’ve saved his life more than once with your Spirit Vision, sensing demons or hidden threats before he even knows they’re there.

He jokes that your spirit daggers are “anime as hell” but lowkey thinks they’re sick as hell. He’s tried to charge one with his kinetic energy once—you had to slap the knife out of his hand before he blew both your eyebrows off.

Your combos are almost choreographed. You slice through a demon’s guard; he plants an explosive to blow its core. He calls it “Boomblade Special”, you call it “Please Shut Up and Just Throw the Thing”.

He pretends to hate your fans, but gets stupidly smug when they swarm you after a mission. (“Yeah, that’s my girl. Yeah, I’m in her band, kinda. No, I don’t rap—well, not seriously—”)

You once caught him listening to one of your unreleased tracks on repeat. He claimed it was “accidental” and “the beat slapped.”

He’s definitely joined one of your rap lives on IG just to drop dumb comments like “Bars 🔥 but I could out-rap you.” You responded by freestyling a verse about his last fight where he blew up his own boot. The fans loved it.

When the world goes quiet, he sometimes opens up. Late nights post-mission, when you’re healing him or tending to your own wounds, he’ll let pieces of the past slip—his childhood, the experiments, how lost he used to feel. You don’t push. You just listen and maybe squeeze his hand gently.

He says dumb things to protect himself emotionally. You know this. So when he tells you your spirit weapon “looks like a glowy butter knife,” you just smirk and tell him it slices egos too.

You’re one of the few people who can actually call him out without him getting defensive. You don’t yell or insult—you just look at him, tired and knowing, and he’ll instantly feel like a jackass and apologize.

He’s fiercely protective of you. Borderline reckless about it. But you’ve made it clear—you’re not a damsel. He’s learned to trust that. He’ll still get edgy when you fight Gwi-Ma-tier threats, but he’s trying to respect your strength.

After you defeated Gwi-Ma, he didn’t say “good job” or “congrats.” He just sat beside you quietly, handed you a warm energy drink, and said: “You did what none of us could. I’d follow you into hell if you asked.”

You once enchanted one of his explosive cylinders with spiritual energy—it exploded quietly, in pure white light, and vaporized a demon instantly. You’ve been experimenting with fusing your powers ever since.

You drag him demon hunting sometimes for fun. He complains but secretly enjoys it, especially the post-hunt ramen runs.

He once made you a mixtape—half of it was his favorite punk rock, the other half was him trying to rap. You kept it. He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t totally get the spiritual weight of the Golden Honmoon, but he gets you. So he supports it because it’s your mission.

One time he told you, “If making that Golden Moon means those souls get peace, then hell yeah—let’s melt down every demon in our way.”