#ground in one of the last scenes his inhaler didn’t work he didn’t do anything to try and get help or get out of it

[okcoolthanks]

I really liked “I Saw The TV Glow” for a lot of reasons like the lighting and sound design and stuff

But I also really liked it because how similar I felt to it. Like you watch a show you love so much you want to Be In It and all you do is interact with That Show to the point where you start talking like it and you make everything you see like it because you don’t Know anything else

I really liked owens character because of how Stuck he is in his life. He says he doesn’t think about “that stuff” because it makes him feel gross so he doesnt. He takes a job at a place he doesn’t like and when it gets shut down he goes with the manager to the next place also doing a job he hates. When his parents die he lives in the same house he grew up in because he doesn’t want to leave. He had one friend and when she disappeared presumed dead he didn’t do anything but reminiscenced on his time with her and watching the show she helped him watch. You can also see how he starts taking care of himself less after his father died, in the last scenes of the movie he looks like he barely eats or drinks water, he doesn’t do anything but his job. “Years feel like seconds” because he isn’t doing anything of importance he lost everything that he looked forward too

He doesn’t talk above a normal speaking volume until he’s literally DYING and even after he apologizes still out of breath. He’s still dying then. No one responds to his apologies or responded to him when he was screaming

He gets a chance to leave and go with Maddie to The Pink Opaque and he gets scared, he gets a chance to leave with her when he was younger and he gets scared. He’s so unhappy with his life but he doesn’t want to change it because he doesn’t know what else to do

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 9 Act 1, Scene 1

Summary: Time passes, but the memories remain. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: **THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS** angst, language, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of vomiting (tw for anyone with emetophobia), slight duel pov A/N: Well... the imposter syndrome has hit me HARD. I'm extremely discouraged by this chapter, but i hope its a decent enough follow-up to what y'all read last :/ bear with me, the last two chapters will MORE than make up for it. i promise.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Time didn’t exist anymore. 

You woke up. You went to work. You came home.

Over and over, the cycle went, and the days passed with no significance. You didn’t eat much, your appetite dwindling just as much as your motivation. It started to show in the way your clothes hung on your body and how your face thinned out. If you cared, you would go to the store and actually buy food, but the possibility of running into Joel kept you away. 

Joel.

Two weeks had passed since parent-teacher conferences—two weeks since you had hidden the book far away. You considered re-writing your lesson plans for next year; you never wanted to teach Romeo and Juliet again. You weren’t strong enough to analyze a story you had shared so intimately with someone you now considered a stranger because that’s what Joel was now: a stranger. A stranger you could still pick out in a crowd of a million people, a stranger whose lips were still imprinted on your skin even after countless hours spent in the shower. 

He was a stranger, and you hated him.

You were perched on the couch with a glass of wine—as most nights went now—when your cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. You didn’t reach for it initially; it was most likely your mom. She had tried calling a handful of times since you had hung up on her weeks ago. You never once called back, but you listened to the voicemails when you were drunk enough. Your dad had been discharged last week and started physical therapy for his hip. Stella and her boyfriend were moving in together somewhere in downtown Boston. And Beth…your mom never once uttered her name. She knew better than to do that. 

But the continuous buzzing of your phone began to irritate you, and you reached for it with an exasperated sigh. An unknown number flashed on the screen, igniting a sudden burst of anxiety inside your chest. Setting your glass down, you inhaled and answered the phone.

“Hello?” You cautioned.

Your name filtered through the receiver, a voice you weren’t expecting to hear.

“Bennett?” 

“Yeah, it’s me,” he sighed. 

“I didn’t think you’d reach out,” you said. “I tried to see you in the hospital, but Natalie…” You let your voice drift off. 

“I know. She’s not big on the idea of talking to you at all.”

“I’m so sorry again, Bennett. Joel shouldn’t have done that. I really don’t understand why it got to that point. I—.”

“I deserved it,” he said, cutting you off mid-sentence. 

You shook your head, your fingers knotting through the tangles in your hair.

“No, Bennett. No, you didn’t. He could have killed you,” you argued.

“He’s a man of his word, I’ll give him that,” he laughed. 

It was odd to hear Bennett talk so casually about this as if Joel hadn’t pummeled him into the ground. He should be mad, so why wasn’t he?

“Should I be waiting for a call from your lawyer soon?” You asked wearily. 

“If I wanted to come after you or Joel legally, I would be the one to do it. But that’s not happening,” he sighed. “It's too messy of a situation, and I really don’t want to go through the hassle. Natalie says otherwise, but she doesn’t really understand the situation.”

“The situation,” you echoed. “Joel told me his side of things after they took you to the hospital.  I still don’t remember anything, Bennett. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to reach you. You left. You disappeared completely and broke my heart.”

There was a beat of silence. You took the opportunity to down the last of your wine, the beginnings of a light buzz coursing through your veins. Don't get angry, you told yourself. You didn’t feel much of anything anymore, but anger was never too far out of reach. Sitting with that emotion and festering in it was easy if you let yourself. Bennett deserved your anger just as much as the rest of them, but you needed answers more than you needed to feel anything.

“There’s a lot to explain,” he finally said. “I’m not sure if you even want to see me again, but I can drive up to Austin this weekend and tell you everything. Or at least everything from my side.”

Seeing Bennett again would unfurl so many unchecked emotions: heartbreak, betrayal, grief. But it would be something you needed. Joel wasn’t the one you were with those two years following the accident; he wasn’t the one you had walked down the aisle expecting to see. Bennett had been with you through it all. You wanted to hear it from his mouth. You wanted an apology and an explanation.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “We can do that. Will Natalie have an issue with it?”

“Natalie won’t know.”

“You’re going to lie to your wife?” You laughed bitterly at his admission. He was still the same person through and through. 

“She’s fine,” he huffed through the phone. “She doesn’t understand any of this anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Bennett. We can meet at a coffee shop this weekend. Don’t abandon me again. I deserve an explanation.”

“I won’t.”

The guilt in his voice was thick, and you relished knowing he was suffering. Everyone, not just you, deserved to suffer for what they did. 

You quickly ended the call with Bennett and returned to the silence surrounding you. Knowing you’d see him in just a few days was unsettling and uncomfortable. The lingering grief he had left still hollowed out your heart. No amount of apologies would fill it, but it could sew up the remaining holes. 

What couldn’t be filled was the gaping hole Joel had left within your heart. Secrets wrapped in scar tissue and carnage that could never be fully healed, and it still infuriated you that your love for him still festered inside. It buried itself deep under the confines of your numbness, but sometimes, when you lay awake at night, you could still feel it. You ached for him in growing unbearable ways, but you had to continue with your life. 

You hadn't prepared yourself to see Bennett the first go around, and you had since thrown out the shirt still stained with his blood. Now, you were standing amid a pile of clothes strewn around your feet, your hair still wet and wrapped in a towel, and a face that screamed insomnia. You looked beyond amends.

After another hour of procrastination and a ticking timeline, you threw on the most basic T-shirt and jeans and left your hair a wet mess.

It was only Bennett.

It wasn’t serious.

Nothing was these days. 

You pulled into a spot in front of a cafe a little ways into town, your car sitting idle as you stared at the storefront. You could faintly make out Bennett’s silhouette sitting in the window, yet your body wouldn’t move. You were feet from all the answers, but the anxiety bubbling inside you made you immobile. Did you actually want this? Was it better to be blissfully unaware? 

Would the answers hurt you more than help you?

Before the constant questions led you to flee, you opened your door and decided to face the truth. Walking into the cafe, your eyes connected with Bennett, and your heart sank. Even from a distance, the scarring on his face was horrible: a thick, red, jagged line stretching down his temple and ending at his cheekbone. Another raised scar creased his left eyebrow, dragging down the arch over his eye. 

Joel did this. 

Inhaling, you met him at the table, sliding into the chair without a word. Bennett’s lips curled into a smug smile, one you still hated, and his eyes glazed over your body. 

“You look like shit,” he stated. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. 

He shrugged, leaning back comfortably in his chair. Your eyes flicked down to the ring on his finger, the gold shimmering through the sunlight hitting the windows. 

“She really has no idea you’re here?” You questioned, nodding your head towards his hand. 

Bennett glanced down at his wedding band, his fingers twisting around the metal mindlessly. 

“No, she doesn’t. She thinks I’m out of town on business.”

“And where’s home for you now?” You asked. “I never really found out since you up and left without a trace.” You tried to swallow the bitterness coating over your words. 

“I live in Houston now. I found a firm seeking out a junior partner and settled down in the city,” he explained. “Trust me, I didn’t want to leave my life here, but it was the only option.”

You studied him momentarily, watching any signs in his body language that would frame him as a liar. But you found nothing to fault. 

“What do you mean it was the only option?”

Bennett leaned forward, intertwining his hands together.

“What exactly did Joel fill you in on?” Bennett asked, cocking an eyebrow.

You shifted in your seat. Bennett’s words hit a nerve inside you, one that was buried deep within the numbness and itching to revive itself on a spark of anger. Was there more Joel had kept from you? How much more heartbreak could you take before you completely withered away?

“He said you and I broke up after we moved to Austin,” you started. “That’s when I met him, and we started dating. I don’t know specifics or much more, but Joel said that when I woke up in the hospital, I asked for you, and that’s when my parents decided to reach out to you and cover up my memory.”

“He left out… a lot,” he emphasized.

“Oh.” 

“So, where do you want me to start then?” 

You chewed on your lip, glancing outside as the cars drove down the main road. If you had told yourself two years ago you’d be sitting in front of your ex-fiance learning about a life you never knew existed… you’d laugh. You’d laugh and tell yourself you’d gone crazy. 

“From the beginning,” you sighed. 

Bennett leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. His eye twitched, the tight scar scrunching the skin around it. You averted your eyes, dropping your gaze to your hands as they fidgeted in your lap. 

“Obviously, you remember us moving to Austin,” he started. “It was probably a month or two after that when we started arguing a lot. You were always mad at me for working too much. You complained all the time that I wasn’t present or whatever.” You deadpanned him when he said those words; it was the same as the arguments you remembered during the engagement. Bennett shrugged off your glare and continued. “Anyway, you finally got fed up with everything and called it quits. You moved in with your teacher friend, whatever her name is… I don’t remember.”

“Maria,” you grumbled. “Her name is Maria.”

“Right, yeah.” Bennett quirked a grin as if he knew the buttons he was pushing. “So, you moved in with Maria and must’ve met Joel shortly after that. We didn’t keep in touch during those two years, but I missed you—a lot.”

Now, it was your turn to hit him with a rueful grin. He was so full of shit, just like you remembered. 

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” you scoffed. 

“Believe whatever you want, but I did miss you. Even with all our fights, I loved you,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so after a while, I decided to reach out. I asked if we could go to dinner and talk, you know, work things out. I didn’t expect you to agree to it, but you did. And you know what happened? You laughed. You laughed at everything I said. You told me you were finally happy and in love and that you’d never consider the chance of getting back together. You sure do know how to hurt a man's pride.”

“You probably deserved it,” you said, shrinking back into your chair. 

“Yeah, probably,” Bennett exhaled. “Doesn’t matter now, though. Anyway, after dinner, you left, and that’s when the accident happened. I had no idea until your parents called me to the hospital and explained it all to me. Looking back now, I can see how incredibly fucked up it all was, but I wanted a second chance. Joel wasn’t happy with the plan at all. As a matter of fact, he punched the shit out of me right when I walked into the room.”

“What?” You balked. 

Bennett laughed dismissively, running a hand over his jaw. You tracked his moments, imagining what Joel must have looked like when he saw Bennett that night. An unwelcomed pang of guilt swarmed inside your chest, not for Bennett, but for Joel. You still hated him, but you couldn’t image the pain he had felt knowing he was losing you. The guilt subsided as you reminded yourself he had a choice to step in, but he allowed it all to happen anyway. He was an accomplice to your parent’s plans. He didn’t fight for you, and that realization stung. 

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head to study you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you faltered. “Just—just keep going.”

“Okay,” he cautioned. “I agreed to go along with your parent's plan. I knew it was fucked up, and I knew it would bite everyone in the ass one day, but I did it because I loved you. I wanted a do-over with you, and it felt like the perfect opportunity.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. If this conversation had happened weeks ago, you would have reacted differently, but there was no anger left to exhaust. You couldn’t be angry at Bennett, at least not for this. You were still allowed to resent him for what he did during the engagement and for leaving you at the altar, but this? This wasn’t something he did; he went along with everything because he loved you…supposedly. That was still arguable. 

“So, you got your perfect opportunity and decided to fuck it up.” 

Bennett inhaled sharply, drawing his lips into a thin line. There he was, the asshole you remembered. He didn’t like when you called him on his shit, and that’s exactly what you were doing. 

“I tried to make it work,” he argued. “I mean, I tried the best I could. I didn’t want to lose you again. So, yeah, I might’ve tried to prevent the chances of you getting your memories back, but it was because I loved you. Then I just got sick of trying. I got sick of you always asking questions and me having to lie. It was exhausting. And then you started saying Joel’s name in your sleep, and I just—.”

“Wait,” you interjected, holding up your hand. “I—I said his name in my sleep?”

Bennett laughed, running a hand over his face. There was a shift in his demeanor, a mixture of anger and sadness. 

“Why do you think I slept on the couch most nights? I couldn’t fucking stand it,” he grumbled. 

“Bennett, I didn’t fucking know I was doing that!” You shouted. A few people turned their heads at the rise in your voice, but you didn’t care. The anger was awakening inside you again, pounding to get out of the cage you had locked it in. 

“Yeah, I know,” Bennett said, rolling his eyes. “I still hated it. I hated knowing that even when you slept, you still loved him. I was never going to be the person to make you happy.”

Tears stung your waterline, and you swiped them away before they could fall. 

“That’s why you left.” It wasn’t a question. It was a realization. 

“I called Joel the night before the wedding,” he confessed, cringing at the admission. “I told him how I felt, and he told me to leave. Well, he didn’t tell me… It was more like he threatened me. He told me that if I didn’t, he’d find me. We both agreed to stay out of your life, and I think you can piece together the rest.”

You sat before him, speechless. You knew it all along; you were the reason Bennett was unhappy. Instinctively, you always knew it. But hearing it aloud? That was a pain you weren’t ready for. Everything was your fault, from beginning to end. Bennett couldn’t love you, Joel couldn’t fight for you.

Why were you so unloveable? 

None of this was your fault, yet everything pointed directly back at you. 

You had nothing left to say to Bennett, so you shoved away from the table and fumbled for your purse. He said your name cautiously, grabbing your wrist before you could turn away. You tried to free yourself from his hold, but he squeezed tighter. 

“Stop!” You snapped. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Bennett pleaded. “I really am, whether you believe it or not. I fucked up a lot, and I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“This apology would have meant a lot more two years ago, Bennett,” you cried, still trying to free yourself. 

“I know it would have, but I’m doing it now. Alright? I’m sorry for everything I put you through, and I know none of this has been easy for you—.”

“You don’t know shit,” you seethed. 

You finally wrangled yourself out of his grip, rubbing your wrist to alleviate the pain from his touch. Bennett stared at you, agonized. You had walked in here hoping for an apology and got it. But it wasn’t enough. What was the point in all of this if nothing healed the pain inside you? 

You stumbled out of the cafe with blurry eyes, the cage bars inside you breaking piece by piece. It was only minutes before the anger fully consumed you, and you needed to leave before you let it wreak havoc on everything around you. You needed silence. You needed solitude. You needed a hole to crawl into. 

Before you could open your car door, Bennett called out your name and tore you away from the swirling thoughts inside your mind. You tried to ignore him, but he was relentless. Whipping around to face him, you came face first with his chest as he pulled you into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tightening his arms around your ridged body. “Hate me all you want, but don’t hate Joel. I can have my own grievances with him, but he loves you more than I ever could.”

You slumped into his chest, letting the anger overwhelm you to the point of complete defeat. Crying in Bennett’s arms was the last place you ever expected to be in, but here you were, sobbing into your ex-fiance’s chest. He held you through each wave of emotions, remaining solid and silent. 

“Hey,” Bennett whispered, pulling away. “Obviously, I don’t know shit about what’s going on with you, but it’s going to be okay. It’ll take time, but you’re going to be alright. I hope you get those memories back one day. I really do. You deserve to remember the things you lost, and I’m sorry for ever getting in the way of that.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. 

Bennett gave you a soft smile and said his goodbyes. You watched him as he retreated to his car, waiting for him to drive away. As you turned toward your car again, you glanced up at the hardware store across the street, meeting the eyes of someone familiar. Someone you didn’t expect to see. 

Joel’s brother, Tommy. 

The resentful glare in his eye was deadly, and you couldn’t hide from it. He saw you with Bennett. He would tell Joel, even without knowing what had just transpired. For a brief moment, you wanted to rush over and explain everything to him, but you stopped yourself. It didn’t matter what he told Joel—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could only shy away from Tommy’s scrutinizing stare and duck into your car. 

You had been gone too long from your numbness, and you missed it. It was time to bury yourself in your sadness once again and continue trying to unlove Joel Miller. 

**

Joel dumped his tools on the dining table with an exasperated sigh. He immediately reached for the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping it open in one fluid motion. As he leaned against the counter with the bottle at his lips, Joel heard the garage door slam shut. Peering around the corner, he tracked Tommy’s movements as he walked into the kitchen. 

“What crawled up your ass?” Joel grumbled. 

Tommy shrugged off his button-up and tossed it over a dining chair. He ran a hand through his greasy black curls before glancing at Joel. Joel shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of Tommy’s demeanor. 

“Seriously, Tommy,” Joel huffed. “Spit it the fuck out.”

“I saw her downtown,” Tommy finally said. “She was with that ex-fiance. The one you almost killed.”

Joel swore he felt his heart stop beating. Tommy must have seen wrong; it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. You wouldn’t seek out Bennett, not after everything. You weren’t even seeking Joel out, even after two weeks of earth-shattering silence. 

“Are y’sure it was her?” Joel asked through clenched teeth. 

Tommy nodded, his eyes drawn to the floor. 

“Yeah, it was her. Not sure what was goin’ on between them, but I saw them huggin’ and all that outside of a lil’ cafe,” Tommy explained. 

“Probably doesn’t mean nothin’,” Joel shrugged, trying to let denial take over.

If he could deny it, then none of this was real. You weren’t with Bennett again—that wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t do that. Bennett wouldn’t do that. Maybe Joel should have killed him. It would have torn you apart, but at least Joel could sleep at night knowing Bennett would never be in your life again. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, pulling him from his vengeful thoughts. 

“It doesn’t matter!” Joel yelled, slamming his beer bottle onto the counter.

The glass rattled between his fingers, and a slow trickle of liquid began seeping out of the crack he created. Joel glanced down at it, unbothered. 

“She’s not comin’ back, man,” Tommy sighed. “Y’gotta start movin’ on.”

“Go fuck yourself, Tommy,” Joel snapped.

He shoved off the counter and began to retreat down the hall, but not quick enough for Tommy. Tommy sidestepped in front of him, arms folded and a scowl twisting his lips. Joel knew Tommy hated everything about this situation, but he wasn’t the one experiencing the pain. He was just a bystander in all of this; he didn’t lay awake every night tossing over your words inside his head. 

I will never forgive you for this. 

Joel wasn’t losing you. He already lost you. 

“Listen, Joel. I know this is hard on you, but y’gotta face the truth. She’s gone, man. I know you tried your best to get her back, but it’s just not gonna happen. She deserves to make her own decisions for her life.”

“I know,” Joel sighed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love her, still.”

Tommy’s brown eyes softened as he looked at Joel, his head dipping in agreement. 

“No one said y’had to stop lovin’ her,” Tommy offered. 

“I don’t think I ever will,” Joel said. 

Joel didn’t sleep much that night. Tossing between the sheets, Joel couldn’t steer away the thoughts of you in another man's arms—let alone Bennett’s. When Joel had seen you at parent-teacher conferences, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. He knew you had taken the news rough, but seeing you so physically distraught was another type of pain he hadn’t been prepared for. You were a hollow shell of the woman he loved; your voice held so much bitterness when you spoke to him. Your eyes didn’t look at him with love…it was his own personal Hell. Parting ways with you like that nearly killed him, but not knowing what was going on in your life killed him more. Joel had spent two years in limbo after your accident, always wondering what life would be like if he had you back. And then he had it. He had three beautiful months with you, albeit they were spent wearing rose-colored glasses, but he had you again. 

In the blink of an eye, in one messy series of events, he lost you.

He lost you, and he knew you’d never come back. 

**

~Six months later~

You thought time would heal the wounds left inside your chest, but you were wrong. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nothing felt better. You stopped talking to your family altogether, and the phone calls stopped coming after some time. Beth never tried to reconcile with you, nor did you try to fight for answers. Having your heart broken by Joel and Bennett was one thing, but having it broken by your sister was a different kind of pain. It was visceral. It was a betrayal so brutal you still had yet to recover. Thinking of the things she had said to you in Boston only left you with debilitating headaches; her words festered deeper than anyone else’s. 

The truth is that you are a fucking idiot. And on top of that, you’re a coward.

You weren’t the coward; Beth was. She chose to hold onto those secrets for the last few years and weaponize them against you. You weren’t the idiot; you were the victim. You were the victim in all of this, yet everyone wanted to pin the aftermath on you. 

You were a mad woman, haunting an empty house with no one to confide in. You cut off all friendships with other teachers, especially Maria. You became a hands-off teacher, only going as far as in-class readings, quizzes, and occasional tests when necessary. The students adapted to the shift in your mood, and while you lived with the guilt of becoming that teacher, it was the only way you could survive the work days. The less effort you put into things, the less risk you had for disappointment or frustration. 

Sarah avoided you at all costs during class. She no longer participated in class discussions—which were far and few—but kept her head low and her grades satisfactory. Sometimes, you’d catch her watching you during class, her hazel eyes swimming with concern. You couldn’t stomach looking at her for more than a few seconds. You weren’t sure if she ever reported back to Joel about you, and honestly, you didn’t care. Well, maybe sometimes you did. It didn’t happen often, but there were fleeting moments of unwelcome flashbacks to your time with Joel months ago. Flashes of his hands on your body, his crooked smile, his deep voice. They wove through your mind at the worst moments, and everything hurt again. 

The school year had finally ended, and your days were filled with endless bouts of nothing. You exhausted everything: plucking weeds in your front yard, rearranging your kitchen cabinets (for the seventh time), building a new bookshelf…You found anything you could to keep yourself busy and the wandering thoughts at bay. 

The Texas heat was becoming unbearable, so you opted to spend the weekend indoors, siphoning through your closet. Heaps of clothes cluttered the ground around you as you tore apart each shelf, miscellaneous keepsakes piled in the corner. It wasn’t until you were elbow-deep in the crevices of your closet that you found the book. 

Romeo and Juliet.

The flimsy spine and dog-eared pages taunted you. You sat motionless with your hands hovering over the book, torn between flipping through the pages and setting it on fire. Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, and you remained paralyzed, stuck in limbo between the past and present. You’d tell yourself it was a moment of weakness, but you grabbed the book and let your hands move through the pages. 

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.

And, to sink in it, should you burden love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

If love be rough with you, be rough

with love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. Staring at the margins of the pages, scribbled with your words and thoughts, you blinked back tears. You thought you were strong enough for this. Tossing the book halfway across the bathroom, you succumbed to the tears that pooled in your eyes. Laying on the messy floor, you wrapped your arms around your shins and stared at the book as it taunted you from across the room. Your eyes caught onto something peeking out of the pages, and you slowly tilted your head. 

That wasn’t…

No. 

You couldn’t pull yourself to your feet, so you decided to crawl to where the book lay. As you got closer, you started to make out the grainy features of Joel plastered onto a Polaroid. With shaking fingers, you lifted it into the light, your eyes growing wide. Basked in the hue of sunset sat Joel, his broad torso dressed in a white shirt, with the biggest smile plastered on his face captured in a moment of laughter. Something sparked inside your chest as you stared at it longer, your eyes memorizing every softened feature of Joel’s face. He still had that patchy beard you were so familiar with, the sparse spots along his jaw no different than they were now. Creases around his closed eyes proved that his laughter in the photo had been genuine. 

You missed his smile. 

Shaking away those tender thoughts, you tried to pull yourself to your feet, only to have your ankle caught in a strap of a dress, sending you crashing to the floor. Your arms tried to brace for impact, but you didn’t catch yourself in time. Your body smacked against the corner of your shower door, your head taking most of the impact. 

And everything went dark. 

“Sarah, you’re a mess!” You laughed. 

Her curls were caked with mud, and half her clothes were soaked. You, Joel, and Sarah had decided to drive into the small town outside the campground for dinner, and of course, you got caught in the rain. As you all made a beeline for the diner, Sarah tripped into a huge puddle between cars, splattering rainwater and mud all over herself. Joel couldn’t contain his laughter, and neither could you. 

Joel took a seat on the beach outside the diner, trying to catch his breath from laughing, but every time he glanced up at Sarah’s messy face, he lost it all over again. You scrambled through your backpack to find your Polaroid camera, snapping a quick picture. 

“Hey!” Joel laughed, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you down to the bench. 

“What?” You asked innocently. “It was the perfect opportunity! Plus, you look extra handsome right now.”

“Handsome, huh?” He smirked, peeking you on the cheek. 

You shook the Polaroid as it developed, presenting him with the proof. He was handsome. So fucking handsome. Joel reached for the camera in your hands, turning it quickly on you. You stuck out your tongue, trying to hold back another fit of laughter. 

“Perfect,” he grinned before turning toward Sarah. 

“Alright, kiddo. Smile!”

“Dad, stop!” Sarah wined. 

But Joel was too fast, the camera shutter going off right in time to capture Sarah’s big pout. 

Each of you had a Polaroid now, picture proof of a happy family. 

Pinpricks of pain stabbed into each side of your head as you finally roused from your sleep. You squinted through the harsh light of the bathroom, letting your eyes readjust to your surroundings. Everything was foggy, but you remembered. 

Oh God, you remembered everything. 

The nausea was quick to hit you, and you scrambled to the toilet. You weren’t sure if the fall was to blame for the sudden disruption to your body or the memories slamming back into place, but you were helplessly stuck with your head over the toilet. Flash after flash, like the shutter of your camera, everything fell back into place. 

“Oof! I’m so sorry!” You said, rubbing your nose.

You had turned the corner too quickly and smashed right into the solid chest of a student’s father. 

“S’all my fault, miss.” 

The voice alone sent shivers up your spine, but they multiplied as you gazed up into a pair of deep brown eyes. You lost all the words in your vocabulary as you took in the sight of the most handsome man you’d ever seen. He was too rugged and masculine to call ‘cute’; handsome fit him so much better. With dark scruff covering his jaw and creases around his eyes, whoever this man was…he was stunning. You were captivated.

“I really should have looked before I turned the corner,” you rambled. 

“Don’t go apologizin’,” he said, offering you a kind smile. “I coulda got outta the way.”

“Do you make a habit of taking up an obscene amount of space?” You joked. 

“Depends on the hall,” he countered, extending his hand. “Joel Miller.”

You told him your name, then shook your head. 

“I should probably keep it professional. You can call me Miss Smith.”

“Nah, don’t need all the formalities here. Your name is just fine.”

“Is your daughter enrolled here?” You asked. It was hard to maintain the color creeping into your cheeks. 

“That she is,” he said proudly. “Goin’ into third grade this year. She’s a real good kid.”

“I bet she is. I’m only student teaching while I finish my Master’s program, but I’ll be taking on a position with middle school students next year. Maybe she’ll be my student one day.”

“I reckon she’d be pretty lucky,” he offered. 

“Yeah?” Now, you were definitely blushing. 

“Yeah,” Joel smiled. “Somethin’ ‘bout you makes me think you’ll be one of the best teachers in the school.”

“That’s a bold statement, given the fact you hardly just met me.”

“I wouldn’t hate it if I got to know you more.”

Your eyes shifted down the hallway, watching for any teachers that might be coming. You weren’t sure what the policy was for flirting with a student’s parent, but it was hard to stop when he was so enticing. 

“I don’t think I’d hate it, either.”

Another wave of nausea hit you, and you groaned. The room was spinning, your body ached from falling, and countless memories continued to pile up inside your mind. 

You were overwhelmed. 

Those two years of nothing became everything in the span of minutes. 

Dragon Tales was playing softly in the background as you curled your body around Joel’s. His hand was tracing circles around your shoulder as you both “watched” the TV. Something electric pulsed between your bodies, an unavoidable shift that had continued to unfurl over the last several months. You didn’t know how to verbalize your emotions—at least, not without knowing if he felt the same. 

“Joel,” you whispered.

His eyes were already on you when you finally glanced up. It was written all over his face. It was the proof you needed; he felt the same. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“I really like you,” you confessed. “Okay, well, maybe I really, really like you.”

“Maybe I really, really like you, too.”

You peeled yourself from his warm body, turning to face him completely. 

“I’m gonna say something,” you warned. “Please don’t freak out. It’s okay if you don't—.”

Joel’s lips were pressed against yours before you could finish the sentence. You melted into his touch, your hands coming up to tangle in the messy curls at the nape of his neck. He held you firm to his mouth, his tongue dragging over your bottom lip. 

“I love you, baby,” he mumbled. “So much.”

You reeled him in for another frenzied kiss, all your efforts to contain your smile going down the drain. Oh, God. He loved you. 

“I love you, Joel.”

You sagged onto the bathroom floor. The throbbing in your head was growing stronger and stronger with each memory. You wanted to tear your brain from your skull and flush it down the toilet, but that wouldn’t help anything. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? All your memories were coming back, and yet, you desperately wished they would fade away again. 

You loved Joel. 

It was a fact you already knew, but remembering the exact moment you admitted…. You were going to be sick all over again. 

“Y’look so pretty in my t-shirt, baby,” Joel hummed.

He lay up against the headboard of the bed while you paced the room. You gripped the binding of your copy of Romeo and Juliet, your mind racing a thousand miles a minute. It was hard to focus when his bare chest was on display, the spattering of dark chest hair swirling down his torso and disappearing under the waistband of his boxers.

Focus. 

“Don’t distract me!” You pleaded. “Okay, you know how I was talking about how Romeo is just head over heels for Juliet? Get this: they kiss right away in the first act! He’s so bold with how he speaks to her, and then he just kisses her. And Juliet’s response is basically telling Romeo that all of his sin is on her lips now.”

“And what happens next, baby?” Joel asked, quirking a smile. 

“Romeo says, ‘Give me my sin again’, and then they kiss… again!” 

“Ain’t he just a romantic,” Joel chuckled. “Now, can y’get your sinful ass in bed?”

“What? This one?” You teased, flipping up the hem of his shirt. 

Joel’s eyes dropped to your backside as you exposed your naked body, and he nearly went flying across the foot of the bed to grab you. You shrieked with laughter as he tugged you onto the comforter, flipping you onto your back. 

“C’mere, baby,” he growled.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking marks into the skin just below your collarbone. You let out a small whimper and helped guide the t-shirt off your body. Somewhere along the way, your book had dropped to the ground, but you didn’t care. You’d much rather give into the sin of Joel’s lips on your body. 

It felt like an eternity had passed when your stomach finally settled. You managed to drag yourself from the floor, staggering your way into the bedroom. The migraine behind your eyes had still yet to subside, so you threw yourself into bed and buried your body under the comforter and pillows. You had everything back—everything you wanted—but why wasn’t it enough? 

The images of Joel swam through the pressurized ache inside your mind; his smile refracted in the blinding light of a constant camera shutter. Snapshots of the past dissolved from the darkness, fragmented puzzle pieces slowly molding into place. 

Another flash, another memory. 

A frustrated scream erupted from your mouth, muffled into the pillows surrounding you. Every thought started and ended with Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. Was this how it felt to go crazy? 

It was clear that sleep was evading you; it ran from the thought of Joel quicker than you could. Pulling yourself from the bed, you emerged into the bathroom once again and began rifling through the piles of clothes. 

What the hell were you supposed to wear to see someone who was no longer a stranger?

[dipplinduo]

Scrapped Content for The Dichotomy In Our Hearts

Where have I been? Ah. Well. Would you believe me if I told you I have been writing and rewriting the same chapter across this past like...week? xD

I have been working through a series of ideas for chapter updates, but I've been very very stuck on The Dichotomy In Our Hearts.

When I tell you. I have written this one scene. OVER AND OVER. LOOOOL.

Ultimately, I've realized the voice of DIOH comes from a sweeter/reflective/"grow through growing pains" kind of tone. Not as much of a conflict-driven/angsty/"Kieran can you please chill the edge bc you're lowkey toxic chain'd" one, like with what you might see me write in Sweet & Sour Dipplins. And lemme tell you, it feels sooooo good to have this breakthrough, because one thing I've been actively trying to do with DIOH is distinguish it from S&S D across the board (but especially with Kieran & Juliana's characterizations & dynamics).

So that being said, I'm gonna rework the last two chapters. I was originally going to have them come out as part of a bigger update in general, but if you've been following this story you've honestly waited long enough, lol. So! I'm prioritizing this. Next update from me will come out within a few days with the conclusion of this story. <3 In the meantime, I figured I should share some of the scrapped work I had - it's a good scene on its own, but you'll see a different version of this scene play out in a more effective way within Chapter 4. :)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kieran huffed out a breath of the furious storm that had festered inside of him. He had hoped his time decompressing in the frosty woods would freeze over the raw cut to his already withering pride, but it proved to no avail as he walked along the cobblestone pathway to his home. He relished in what remained of the short-lived comfort he obtained through casting himself to the shadows as his home’s lingering lights began to expose his wounds back to the watching world. The rays were an anomaly for this time of night; his grandfather had always had a strict rule of dimming the house before bed, and Kieran was highly certain it was too late for people to be awake. 

He braced himself with a careful inhale as he quietly stepped up to the shoji before him, and the door felt like a paper barrier between the last of his solitude and judgment itself. They couldn’t have been waiting up to lecture him some more, could they? At this point, he didn’t need any punishment beyond the torment of his self-criticism. He knew he was rash and reckless. He knew he was lucky the little boy was okay. 

He just wished he was better. It was another moment he could’ve used to prove himself, but he blew it. Again.

 The guilt already gripped into him mercilessly. It seemed as if the history of his inexcusable failures enjoyed repeating themselves - no matter how hard he tried to remedy them by pushing himself - and it seemed as if the world would do anything but retire the spotlight from him while he dug his grave further into the lifeless ground. The real salt in the wound was the dramatic irony of how he had failed this time, though. 

Once again, his efforts were fruitless. Once again, Juliana had stepped in so effortlessly. Once again, she is showered in praise while he is showered in shame. 

And of course she bore witness to his humiliation.

Kieran clenched his jaw tightly as he slid the shoji. He remained stealthy, but still nonetheless moved swiftly to rip the band-aid off to whatever awaited him indoors. He squinted his sensitive eyes against the blaring, toasty lights - they were more powerful than what had seeped through to the front porch - and the illuminance from the lamps refracted warm hues off of the yellow-orange walls. Minus the scattered lights, the house was void of his noisy family members. They must’ve all retreated to their beds as Kieran would reasonably predict.  As Kieran’s vision adjusted to his bright and tidy home, his movements slowed to the sight before him. He stepped inside in a manner that was as Dedenne as he attempted to survey the situation.

Juliana was curled up against the kotatsu in an awkward position - one that looked far from comfortable. It appeared as if she had fallen asleep entirely by accident; she had donned her usual attire instead of the pajamas she was meant to borrow, and she was sitting up rather than lying down into the kotatsu’s blanket that poorly covered her lap. Her back was hunched over so she could rest her cheek against her forearms, which were somewhat sprawled along the wooden surface of the kotatsu. Her Deerling-like eyes remained sealed shut as Keiran inched closer, and there was a subtle droop in her parted jaw as she softly breathed. Odd touches of flyaways and frizz decorated her waved, somewhat messy hair, and Kieran noted slight creases that wrinkled in a hidden gray underneath her eyes. 

Was she waiting up for him? 

It was yet another moment that felt stolen and improper. When he observed her, he could see nothing but a much more vulnerable aspect of his rival that he felt he wasn’t meant to experience.

It was yet another moment that felt stolen and improper. When he observed her, he could see nothing but a much more vulnerable aspect of his rival that he felt he wasn’t meant to experience. She was supposed to be unyielding and ruthless with limitless capabilities. An obstacle in his path that he could overcome to clear his conscience.

Kieran bit the corner of his lip and exhaled slowly - the bewildering tugs of emotions on either end only added to his already building frustration. He quietly snagged the patchworked, quilted blanket that was draped along the plush sofa nearby her - why she couldn’t just resign herself on that at the minimum, Kieran didn’t know - and carefully wrapped it around her narrow shoulders. As he turned to leave, a gentle touch around some of his fingers caused him to gasp. 

“Ki…Ki-”

Kieran’s mouth suddenly felt dry as his heart skipped a beat. 

“-eran,” Juliana finished, and the weird sensation in his chest rallied heat around him. Why was he imagining she would call him…?

The touch around his middle and ring finger became a soft grip as Juliana stirred and began rubbing her face. Now that she was awake, reality struck him back into his senses and he suddenly felt as restless as he was in the woods. 

Kieran tried to keep his voice even as he spoke. "Juliana, it's late. Ya’ should go to bed," 

Juliana blinked sleepily as she sat up, still holding his hand. "I was worried about you," she murmurs. "Are you okay?"

Kieran nearly pulled his hand away as the realization dawned on him. So this was what it was all about: pity.

She was the hero who looked down on him and pitied him before anything else.

The epiphany was a coarse grain of salt rubbing in his wounds, but it was somehow the easiest and most sensible thing to believe than any lingering alternatives. "Why do you care so much?" he snapped, immediately regretting his harsh tone but feeling unable to stop himself. "You don't need to pretend to be worried about me."

Juliana flinched as she became more alert. “Why would I pretend to be worried?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Kieran spat as he snatched his hand away. 

“Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?” Juliana asked firmly as she rose, a hint of anxiety in her defensiveness. “Is this about Peacharunt?”

“It’s about way more than that.” Kieran tightened his fists as he steadied his gaze on a chair cushion, readying his words like canons. “You won again. Ya’ always do. I don’t need your pity as a consolation prize.” 

“I’m not trying to pity you,” Juliana countered. “I just know that things have been hard lately, and I-”

Kieran turned to face her, his voice almost trembling as the pain in her face brought out some of his own. “That’s why ya’ came here in the first place, right? I just mess everything up left and right. Ya’ just want ta’ keep an eye on me and fix my mistakes. ‘Cause I’m so horrible.”

Juliana stepped closer and spoke softly enough to make the hair behind Kieran’s neck raise. “Kieran, you’re not horrible at all. But you’re acting like you are, and you keep pushing people away. You’re pushing me away.”

Juliana’s cries fell on deaf ears as the anger flared inside of Kieran, directionless. An ugly mix of self-loathing, resentment, and deep-seeded insecurity oozed uncontrollably as he spat out his words. "Stop beatin’ around the bush, everyone knows that I can't ever measure up to you!” His voice cracked with the weight of his emotions, and he turned away again, unable to face her and complete his thought. How even his own grandparents trusted her battle skills over his.

“This isn’t a competition. I’m not trying to compete with you,” Juliana breathed unevenly, as if there was something unsteady brewing in her.

Kieran's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "Ya’ think it's not a competition? It's always a competition! Everyone is always comparing us, and I always come up short. Do ya’ even know what that's like?” Kieran continued as Juliana opened her mouth in protest. “Ya’ don’t. ‘Cause you’re always the hero everyone wants and loves. You are perfect,” Kieran spat as an insult as he ran out of breath. 

A pulsating surge of shock struck Kieran as his rival’s voice grew uncharacteristically intense. "You think I'm perfect? You think I don’t have struggles? That I don’t actually care about you at all?” Her voice cracked before becoming small and hushed. “How could you say such a thing?”

His eyes danced between hers in anguish, and he messily attempted to somewhat soften his outburst as he recalled her smile under the fireworks. “If you had any flaws they’d just be a work of art.” (MAKE CONTRADICTION MORE FLUID)

“I thought you of all people would know that I'm anything but perfect!” Juliana cried out, tears bursting down her face. “After everything you’ve seen me struggle with.”

As he witnessed the seams of her composure become undone, Kieran felt as if he was sinking, too. The tension in his fists released as he was taken aback, rendered speechless. 

Juliana continued to fall apart before him, using both of her hands to wipe her face repeatedly as her voice trembled. “I don’t fit in at the academy. I miss being at home. And the only person that really feels like a home is the one person I’m pitted against. You’ve seen me fail over and over again with all of these things. You’ve seen parts of me I haven’t shown anyone else. But you... you act like I’m this flawless person who just waltzes through life without a care. And it hurts, Kieran. It hurts because I care about you so much, and you don’t even see it.”

Kieran’s eyes widened as he was hit with a sudden sense of clarity. He began to blink rapidly as he recalled the intimacy and affection he had misread as a threat. Her giddiness, her eagerness to accompany him and cling to him, her interest in his thoughts and moods. A tingle ruptured inside him as he pieced everything together. 

She…liked him? 

It felt like a haughty deduction, but it was the only way he could make sense of such strong feelings. He wasn’t sure what to make of it - what he was even supposed to do with it. Kieran hesitantly reached out an arm around the shaking girl’s back and nudged her forward. His hyperawareness grew as she collapsed into him as she sobbed, curling her fingernails around arms. It felt as she was slipping down, and Kieran unintentionally dropped to the floor with her as she buried herself against him. 

It was a moment he was entirely unprepared for and could never predict. There was a part of him that felt good - as if his damaged ego was stroked and given value. There was another that raved about the attention he was receiving, to have someone fight because they cared. There was another part that was disgusted at himself for those feelings. There was another that couldn’t make sense of Juliana and her multidimensionality. Was he wrong about her? Does he have the right to be mad at her? Is he even mad at her? Why would she have a crush on him, if she even did? Kieran felt as if he was short-circuiting from the swirling contemplation. 

He was ages away from speaking as Juliana continued to blubber. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I don’t know how to make up for what happened with Ogerpon! And it breaks my heart to keep seeing you get so angry without knowing how to fix it!” 

"Juliana, I..." he starts, staring aimlessly at the wall behind her as his voice trails off. “I didn’t realize…” 

"Of course you didn't," she weakly replies against him to the point where it was difficult to hear. "You're too busy seeing me as this perfect person who has it all together, like everyone else. Well, I'm not. And it hurts, Kieran. It hurts.” She repeated, nearly nonsensical.

(Below are notes that follow the direction of the scene):

Kieran feels guilty and hugs Juliana awkwardly

I'm sorry/angry at self / feels disarmed by Juliana's crying

His thoughts eventually grow quiet as she sags further against him and nearly falls asleep 

“We should both go to bed” wanted to escape but didn't want to leave, conflicted 

(J) I’m sorry if I was being too much

(K): Thats the second time you said that/improved ability to observe Juliana

Was she afraid of taking up space? Starts to see how difficult that must be

Closes door abruptly, holds his hands to his face where Juliana touched him

~EMBARRASSED EMO ~ / Reflection on duality of relationship

[amywritesthings]

SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 05.

gifts are gifts. :: a deleted scene that was originally meant to take place during flashback: seven. james and levi spar and have a verbal argument after reuniting.

this one is such a doozy. i had this one sitting on a page in draft prison because this was my initial plan of their 'reunion'. yes, spoiler alert, the ignoring was going to last three whole chapters. this is so far removed from the deep bond james/levi shared, and much more in the vein of the first 10 chapters. this is also before i decided erwin's recruitment offer extended to james. i read this back and i'm like oh my god?! you can really tell i wrote the story completely out of order with this excerpt! this is unedited. 970 words / explicit language, fighting. :: please remember: this is additional deleted content, not tied to the current canon of the story.

“You need to get rid of that.”

Your head feels fuzzy from the impact of solid ground beneath it. “What?”

Levi grits his teeth, emphasizing every word. “Get. Rid. Of it.”

He reaches for the necklace. You react just in time to forcefully smack his hand away and push up, up until your palm connects with his throat.

“Gifts are gifts, asshole,” you grunt, squeezing his neck.

Levi doesn’t react to the abrupt violence. If anything, he leans into the assault.

“You don’t get to suddenly disappear on me and then make demands.”

“Technically — all that superiors do — is make commands,” he chokes out, finally flinching when you squeeze harder.

“Smith made me a Lieutenant.”

“That doesn’t mean shit in the Scouts,” he spits. “And technically still — under me.”

In more ways than one.

You growl, pushing at his neck one more time before letting go. Levi bows his head, giving you both a moment to catch your breath in the aftermath of the spar. His matted hair hangs over his forehead, hiding his eyes where you lay.

He doesn’t opt to move away. You’re trapped under him.

Then he speaks without an edge.

“Join the MPs.”

You stare up, frowning. “I can’t. You know that.”

“There’s still time to convince Erwin you’re innocent.”

He must sense the shift of the fight, because he lifts his chin just enough to regard you from under his eyelids. Your lips part with an unknown question.

“I didn’t tell them about you. It must have been Isabel.”

Her name hangs like lead off of his tongue.

You pause, nostrils flaring with contempt. “How do you know it wasn’t Furlan?”

“Because Isabel didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut,” he replies. If you’re not careful, then you may project a rueful hint to his tone. “Furlan never left my side.”

(Loyal to the end, and for what?)

“What are you saying, Ackerman?”

“You’ve always wanted to see the surface, right?” You don’t nod, but he continues as if you’ve acknowledged him beyond furrowed brows. “I argue that you only worked for us once because of some naive obsession with the surface. Isabel likely felt the need to drag you under the bus thinking it would buy her some unfounded favor from Erwin. He could believe that.”

Your stomach clenches at the implication of his lie.

“You would do that to her name?”

“She’s dead, James.” Callous, without doubt; Levi shifts his hold on your wrists to your forearms. “You’re not.”

You sink into the ground, deflating against his hold. “So I’d get transferred by the good graces of Commander Erwin and, what? Leave you here?”

Something flashes in his eyes, but he decides this time not to answer on impulse. Here in this proximity, you can hear him taking calculated breaths through his nose — inhale, exhale, controlled and slow.

“It’s your best option to surv—”

“No.”

The soft and certain answer cuts through his next argument. Levi freezes like you’ve confessed to being part-titan this whole time — his short-circuiting bewilderment is loud and screaming in your face when he refuses to speak candidly. 

He looks like a teenager again, the starry night sky your makeshift backdrop of an Underground you both deserted.

His eyes narrow. “No?”

Your growing smile surges that terrible temper back on the sparring grounds. He lets go of your arms — a fatal mistake — to gather the strap of your chest harness into a closed fist. When he drags you up to meet him, you easily follow.

“Furlan is gone. Isabel is gone. What don’t you fucking get about that, you shithead?” he speaks through clenched teeth, fist trembling. “You lived and you’re pissing that away.”

Just when he thinks he has the upper hand, yours shoots out — quickly you grab his own chest harness, bringing him directly down to you.

Nose to nose.

The proximity catches your long-lost friend off guard.

(Levi Ackerman is good at many things. Being comfortable with someone in his face in a non-violent setting was never one of them.)

“Do you think,” you begin in a murmur, “that I really give a shit about living a life on the surface if that means you’re not a part of it?”

His gray pupils grow black.

“I’ve lost you twice now—”

“James.”

“—let me finish, you… arrogant little shit,” you breathe, and for once in Levi Ackerman’s life, he listens. Intently, it seems, because he won’t stop staring at your face. “I’m — we are out of the Underground. Captains, Lieutenants — maybe they’re both arbitrary titles and fucking ridiculous, but they can mean something. I now have a chance to do something.”

“You have a chance to get yourself killed,” he mumbles. “This isn’t the time to become a fucking idealist. This is war.”

“And this is my choice.” Warmth spreads through your system at the tickle of his breath on your face. “Maybe I didn’t choose the Scouts, but I did choose—”

You.

You’ve been brave up until this point, but now you can’t say it. Not when Levi’s still so close. His nose accidentally brushes yours, and he shoves you — hard — back into the ground to break your grip on his harness.

Like a frightened animal, he quickly sits back on his calves to steer clear of your reach. By the time you can see straight, he’s already standing tall.

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” he spits with venom, “but you’re making a mistake for a person that doesn’t exist.” Levi collects himself, straightening his chest harness straps. “Whatever you think you remember — that isn’t me. Not anymore.”

You roll to lean on a bent elbow, propping you against the ground, but it’s too late.

Levi walks away and doesn’t look back.

[heavenlyakin]

Mine

Phinks x Fem!Reader

--

wc: 3.7k

Warnings: fem reader, fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, violence in a scene (not against reader), and yandere themes. You can always message me to add more warnings!

This was a commission so some aspects were made to fit the commissioner. If you're interested in commissioning me, just shoot me a message!

--

A faint flame from a cigarette lighter catches your eye from across the alley. Shifting your gaze up from your phone you see the man who lit a fresh one. The smell of smoke tingles your nose, and you inhale deeply. It’s been a while since you’ve had one; in fact, it might have been around this time last year when your best friend stole a pack from her shitty ex before moving across the country.

You’re not sure what it is: the man with the cigarette or the smell of it. Whichever, they have your attention now. He towers over you, crouched down on a milk crate during your break from the restaurant you’ve been at for the last year. His face isn’t particularly friendly, actually, he has a rather scary look graced upon his face. His frown would scare most people away, but you’re too busy looking at his dark eyes and blonde hair to really give yourself a chance to feel anything.

“What are you looking at?” He asks, aggression clear in his tone.

“You, obviously,” you shoot back. Today has been rough enough with rude customers, a shitty manager, and two of the kitchen staff walking out. “Why are you even in this alleyway? You don’t work here.”

He blows smoke out, a cloud covering his face. You suppose that’s the only answer you’re going to get. He finishes another long drag then tosses the burnt-out cigarette to the ground, smashing it into the concrete with the toe of his black shoes.

“Whatever dude, just don’t hang out here too long. My boss comes out here and shoos people away with brooms if they’re not supposed to be here.” You stand up, dusting off the back of your pants and looking up at the man who towers over you, even standing at your tallest.

Something between a laugh and a scoff leaves his body, but you ignore it. It’s his problem if Brad decides to give him hell later.

--

The rest of your shift drags with so few customers. What feels like an hour turns out to have been only ten minutes, and on and on and on. You make it to your last break before closing with your sanity barely intact. You hang up your server apron and step outside into the alleyway to take your break out in the cool night air.

You stop midway through the entry, noticing the strange man is still there, leaning against the brick wall of the boutique next door. After a moment of frowning at him, you go to your favorite spot on the milk crate across from him and fast enough away from the dumpster that you won’t get sick to your stomach.

“I see you’re still waiting here,” you say leaning your elbows onto your knees and holding your chin up.

“And you’re here again,” he adds, seeming somewhat more friendly than before.

“I’m shocked Brad didn’t come run you off,” you comment.

“He knows better than to do that,” he tells you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a near empty pack of cigarettes. “The prick hasn’t shown his face all afternoon. I’m getting impatient.”

“You’re waiting on him?” Your curiosity is getting the best of you.  “What could you possibly want with Brad?”

Not to shit on him, but he’s not the most charismatic guy. Nor is he someone who would go looking for trouble. Which you assume this man in the alley is.

“He owes my boss a debt,” is all he says and then outs the half-smoked cigarette out on the brick behind him. He takes a step forward and kneels down to your level, so he’s face to face with you. “So, tell me, is he even in that shithole restaurant or not?”

“I haven’t seen him all day, but he could be in the office.” You shrug, then hold out your hand. “For a cigarette, I’ll go get him for you.”

The blonde frowns, “What if he’s not there?”

“I’ll give you his phone number and you can harass him that way, I guess.”

“Wow,” he laughs, a smile creeping on his cheeks. “You’d sell out your boss for a single cigarette. I can only imagine what my boss would think of this.”

You shrug and smile. “It’s not like Brad inspires loyalty here. Like you said, it’s a shithole. So, are you giving me one or not?”

He holds out the pack and you take one, his last one. “Thanks, now let me have a light.” You tuck it between your lips as he lights the end for you.

The first taste of nicotine and smoke secures your decision. It is worth it.   

--

“Hey Brad, can you help me out back? Someone flipped the dumpster over again and I can’t get it back on my own,” you ask sweetly, leaning against the door frame of his office.

“Jesus Christ, why does this keep happening?” He rubs his face in frustration then stands up.

You let him lead the way through the kitchen and out the back. Brad freezes in the doorway and you laugh, making him turn around and look at you. He looks furious, but he steps outside anyway. You follow him, curious to see what’s going to happen with the stranger and Brad.

It’s quick, so quick you barely see it. One second Brad is standing, the next he’s on the ground with a clearly broken jaw. Before you can register more, a foot is in his stomach and he’s coughing up blood. Brad isn’t exactly the best boss in the world, but you’re not sure if he deserves this. Then again, you don’t know what he’s done to elicit this sort of response from the stranger.

“You should leave,” he barks out after another kick to Brads stomach.

You look up and see he’s smiling, actually smiling. You smile back, unsure why you’re reacting this way. You’re not even sure if it’s out of character for you really, but maybe you’re just in shock.  

Brad is a bloody mess after another ten minutes of being beat. Whatever he did, you’re sure he won’t do it again. You watch the whole time, not really sure why you’re so interested. You’ve never hated your boss, but something about this is so horrific you can’t look away. The blonde man’s knuckles are covered in blood by the time he’s done, he leans back against the brick wall.

“Cigarette?” He asks, offering up a fresh pack from his back pocket.

You nod, taking another and his lighter with it. “So, what did Brad do to deserve that?” You ask, tossing the lighter back to him.

“He owes my boss a lot of money.” He shrugs then pulls out a rag from his pocket to wipe his hands off with.

“I have to close up the restaurant, so if you want you can wash them off inside.” You offer, blowing smoke towards him. “Afterall, I’m sure he won’t say anything about it.” You point at Brad on the ground. You can see his chest barely rising and falling.

“Alright,” he shrugs and walks through the kitchen door and into the restaurant.

You follow him in, tossing the cigarette butt on the ground. The man is already washing his hands in the dish sink when you’re inside, so you lock the back door to start closing. “Should I call someone to help Brad?”

“I don’t care what you do. Just don’t say I was here, or you’ll regret it.” The threat comes out of him so smoothly you almost don’t realize that it is one.

“Alright,” you decide against calling an ambulance or the police. Whatever mess he got himself into, he can get himself out of it.

Before you give yourself time to ponder what kind of person that thought process makes you, you grab a broom and go about your normal closing tasks. After a few minutes your mind is heavier than ever with thoughts about today’s sequence of events. The restaurant is fully swept by the time the stranger comes out of the kitchen and into the dining room. With Brad gone, it’s just you and this man in the entire place.

“What’s your name,” you ask, emptying the dustpan into the garbage by the kitchen door.

He gives you a suspicious look but answers, “Phinks.”

“I’m -----,” you tell him before he leaves, not looking back.

--

Weeks pass and you’re not surprised to find out that Brad was let go from the Restaurant, making it chaotic to function until they found his replacement. Phinks crosses your mind every time you go out to take a break behind the building, but you haven’t seen him since that night he showed up. You’re not exactly sure why he crosses your mind so often, but you do find yourself fantasizing about the way his hair would feel tangled in your fingers.

Today is one of those days.

It’s been a slow afternoon. Plus, your new manager, Theresa, has been on everyone’s asses about side work. It seems redundant since everyone knows what they need to do anyway. It’s days like this where you actually miss Brad’s laidback management style, even with all his faults.

However, your breaks seem to come faster now that you’re busier. When you step outside, you can’t help but glance around, looking for Phinks. As usual, he’s not there. You take a seat on your trust milkcrate and pull up twitter on your phone. Part of you wants to search his name, knowing there can’t be too many people with it, but the other part is calling you a crazy stalker.

“Smoke?” A gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought and you look up to see none other than the man you considered cyber stalking.

“Please,” you reply, a bit breathless. He hands you a cigarette and the lighter he offered. “Here to commit another crime?” You tease with the cigarette between your lips.

“Not today. Just passing by.” He tells you, taking a seat on another milk crate.

The quite tension between you builds with each second passes with neither of you speaking. It’s apparent he wasn’t just passing by since you’ve never seen him in this area before. Considering you spend nearly every day within a few blocks of the restaurant or your apartment nearby, you just know he’s had to gone out of his way to come here.

You put out the cigarette on the concrete below. “So, why are you here?”

He rolls his eyes, not speaking still.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, half joking.

“Totally, I just can’t get enough of you.” He says smoothly with a glimmer in his eye.

“I guess I should be scared then,” you lean forward, your face now only a few inches from him.

“Most people are scared when I’m around, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

You grin as he starts to smirk. “I’m not, though.”

“You must be incredibly stupid then,” he adds, leaning even closer to you. You’re face to face with him now.

“Or,” you roll your eyes, ignoring the fact he just insulted you, “you’re not as scary as you think.”

He pulls back, and you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. However, you notice he starts to look around. Almost like he’s checking for something. Before you can take another breath, his hand has moved to your face, fingers gripping you sternly but somehow without hurting you.

You feel his lips brush against yours, and you inhale quickly before you’re able to react. Slowly, you allow yourself to give in, kissing him back. He tastes like cigarettes and mint, something you hadn’t expected. He must have been chewing gum earlier today, or it’s the taste of his toothpaste. The thought almost makes you giggle.

He pulls away, “Let’s get out of here.” A statement, not a question.

Without hesitation you follow him. Fuck working and fuck that bitch Theresa.

Phinks lead you a way down the street, not looking ack to see if you’re following. He must trust that you would have followed him despite not giving an answer. He brings you down another alley and to a sleek black car. He’s opening the door before you can try and see what kind of car it is, not that it matters now.

You slide in the backseat, and he follows you, pushing you back against the seat. The door slams shut as he hovers over you, looking at you like you’re the most glorious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. You reach up, pulling him down onto you by his shirt. He kisses you again and your body ignites. Heat flutters through you from your head to toes.

His body is heavy against you. Your hands wander down his chest and to his stomach, feeling each crevice of his abs. You moan as he bites your bottom lip gently, pulling it between his teeth and releasing it. Your eyes flutter open, and you realize what’s going to happen next.

“Please tell me you have a condom.”

“Shut up, I’m not that stupid.” He grumbles, reaching to the front seat. He drops the condom on your stomach and smirks. “My lady,” he teases.

“You shut up now.” You roll your eyes and start to pull his shirt over his head.

He helps you, shrugging it off and tossing it to the front seats. You can’t help but stare at his form laid bare in front of you. Every bit of his skin is smooth and toned to perfection. You can only imagine how he’s managed to get his body in this shape, but that just makes your mind start to run wild with images of him hot and sweaty in the gym. 

He reaches for your top; his fingers are cold on your skin as he starts to pull it up off you. Sitting up, you grab his arms to pull yourself up. As your top comes off, you let go, falling back against the leather seats of his car.

Phinks smiles at you, taking you in as you manage to unclasp your bra behind you. He leans down, kissing your neck. Slowly, your body reacts, a rush flowing through you and making your toes curl.

How long has it been since you’ve done this? You can’t remember. Your body knows it’s been too long and is reacting faster than you can think. Part of you is embarrassed by the way you feel like moaning already, but the other is screaming for you to let it out. So, you do.

Your moan cuts through the quiet sounds of his lips on your skin and you feel him throb against your stomach. You’re glad you let that out.

“Fuck this,” he growls in your ear while forcing his pants down his thighs.

You follow, wiggling under him to manage to get out of your work jeans. You struggle getting them off your ankles; Phinks pulls them off and drops them on the floorboard. Now you’re left in your underwear, and Phinks is completely nude on top of you. You take a few moments to admire his body above yours, toned and golden.

With his right hand, he grazes his fingers down your side, sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers loop through the waistband of your underwear and he smiles wickedly.

“I like these,” he snaps the black fabric against your skin, and you laugh. “But, not enough to keep them.”

With both hands, he grips your panties, pulling them apart and ripping them off your body in one tug. If you hadn’t already been aroused, this would have surely done it for you. His fingers tease your clit, surprising you at his first move to tease you. You bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling.

“No, I want you to watch,” he stops moving his fingers, and you whine but open your eyes. “That’s better, pretty girl.”

You watch as his fingers slide down, teasing your entrance and glistening with your wetness. His middle fingers slides in first, just a few centimeters and you feel the urge to close your eyes and just lay back and let him do whatever he wants, but you don’t. You bite back a moan and watch as he pleases you.

He pumps his finger fully in you, and out, and then back in again. You moan loudly, fingers digging into the leather seat of his car. Your chest rises and falls as he keeps teasing you, adding another finger and filling you up more. You grip his wrist with your right hand, your left steadying you on the seat as his fingers move faster, fucking you harder.

“Fuck,” you whimper breathlessly.

Phinks leans forward and kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips while he finger fucks you. You kiss him back, desperate for the closeness. His fingers pull out of you quickly, leaving you gasping for air against his lips and clenching around nothing.

“Fuck you,” you say quietly, looking at his stupid grin that’s full of excitement. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Oh, I will.” You feel the tip of his cock prod at you between your legs and you grin.

He’s so much thicker than you expected, even after seeing him. You gasp as he slides in you, adjusting to his size while tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Stretching around his cock, you moan feeling that oh so familiar pleasant sting. He thrusts in you a few times, slowly letting you adjust. You’d be insulted with anyone else, but you desperately need to adjust to the mass of him.

After a few rough thrusts Phinks wraps his arms around you, and you hook your legs around his waist. You almost yelp as he readjusts you so you’re ready to ride him as he sits back. The arrogant smile on his lips doesn’t piss you off but challenges you instead. You know you’re going to give him the best ride he’s ever had.

Slowly, you grip his shoulders, pressing your breasts up close to his face and his smile turns down with a more serious gaze. You rise up once, feeling his cock slip out of you slowly almost until it’s ready to fall out until taking it back in, to the hilt.

Now, it’s his turn to tip his head back and let out the most glorious sound you’ve ever heard. His moans fill the silence in the car, and you clench around his cock. It only makes him moan louder, a glorious sound coming from deep inside his throat.  You smile, pressing a kiss you his neck and running your tongue across the soft skin.

You feel his body shiver under you, and you want to whine at the pure satisfaction of it all. Something about Phinks looking completely at your whim now is so opposite of what you’d seen of him before. It’s thrilling really, knowing you have all the power even if he could snap you in half if he wanted; but instead, he wants to let you pleasure him while you get off on his cock.

“I’m not going to make it much longer,” you whimper, your pace now consistent as you ride him. “I need to cum, now.”

“You can wait,” he coos, slipping his hands down to your hips and slowing your pace. He guides you his fingers digging into your skin.

His lips are on yours again and he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. You cry out as he laughs, but a surge of energy goes through you making you tingle all over. Your toes curl as he thrusts up into you, shocking you.

“Fuck, oh fuck” you moan as he continues to fuck you while holding your hips still. Maybe this is really why he wanted you on top because now he has all the control. All that’s left to do is hold onto his shoulders and hope your nails aren’t hurting him too badly.

“Cum,” he says quietly, just against your ear before nipping at the lope with his teeth. It takes you off guard.

You cum, crying out a mix of his name and fuck, not really sure where one ends and the other begins. Your toes curl and your legs go weak. If you weren’t on top of him, with his hands steadying you, you’re sure you would have collapsed.

He’s still fucking you, only slower now and you start to wonder if he’s going to cum soon. Or if he’s someone who could go on forever until you’re a babbling mess unable to form a single thought from being so overstimulated. Part of you wants to see if he could accomplish that but the other part knows you desperately want to make him cum now.

As you’re lost in the afterglow of pleasure and thought, you feel his cock twitch. He’s going to cum, you realize. It makes you force another soft moan, wanting to encourage him but unable to formulate words.

Phinks cums, or at least you suspect since he stops fucking you. The condom didn’t bust at least, you think. It’s a few moments before he settles you down on his lap after pulling out of you and removing the condom. You don’t pay attention to what he does with it, just hoping he didn’t liter and throw it outside of the car.

You let your body relax against his, the warmth radiating off you both. It’s silent for the most part, besides the quiet pants Phinks lets out every other breath. You relish in it, knowing this could either be the first or last time this happens. Either way, you’re happy with what’s happened even if you were limited to the space of the car.

His loss, you think.

“You’re not going back to that damned restaurant, alright?” He breaks the silence, and you furrow your brows.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, knowing he can’t see your reaction with your cheek against his chest and eyes looking down away from his face.

“I’m serious,” he laughs this time. “Fuck, you’re so much better than I imagined.”

You laugh this time, was he getting himself off imagining this over the last few weeks? “Weirdo,” you comment, not meaning it at all.

A few more minutes pass until he moves you off his lap and onto the seat beside him. He wraps his arms around your shoulder. “You’re mine now.”

[nikmikaelsonswife]

Starved.

Description: Klaus is in a rut and is completely infatuated with his woman, which makes a combo that rocks your fucking world.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: erotic scenes for 18+, mentions of bodily fluids, spanking, slight choking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering, vulgar language, swearing, slight angst, spitting, pure filth

A/N: this is...my ultimate klaus fantasy. hot hybrid sex. hope you enjoy as much as i did in writing. masterlist.

It was nearing two in the morning when he arrived home. You weren’t ridden with worry, as you knew better than many that he could take care of himself. But as his lover, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief when you heard him enter the compound.

You immediately woke from your slumber, being a light sleeper and already on an paranoia induced edge at your husband’s absence. When he stepped through the bedroom threshold, you could feel the shift in the atmosphere, could identify his mood with merely a glance at his face.

He was pissed.

His azure irises had darkened into a gorgeous navy, his eyebrows set into a furrow and his jaw was clenched. You found it incredibly sexy, but you were also concerned. “What happened?”

Your question was left unanswered and he showed no sign of hearing it in the first place, but it was unlikely that he didn’t. His heated gaze was set on you as if you were the source of his anger, his strawberry red lips pulled into a resentful scowl. The look he was giving you sent shivers cascading down your spine and right between your thighs.

He stalked toward the bed, pulling his sweater over his head and unzipping his jeans in the process. Kicking off his boots and dropping his pants along with his boxers, he made it blatantly obvious that he didn’t want to talk. Standing before you in all his glory, he yanked the covers back before climbing on top of you.

Your pussy was pulsing at this point, as you raised your arms so he could pull your nightie over your head. It was the only thing you wore to bed and he grunted at the sight of your naked body, smashing his lips against your own. You fell into sync with him without hesitation, moving your mouth with his, his kiss taking your breath away.

Your hands moved under his arms to his back, bringing him impossibly closer. You nor him could get enough, there was no limit to the desire. The heat from your bodies rose the temperature in the room as he moved against you, his cock sliding through your arousal. You were always ready, always needy, always wanting.

But apparently, the wetness between your thighs wasn’t enough for Klaus. He pulled away from the kiss, rotating his jaw before spitting on your cunt. Your hips bucked at that, heat tingling in pleasured appreciation. Especially when he rubbed it in with his thumb, finger sliding through your folds.

“Holy,” you whispered at the sight, holding back a whine when he removed his finger. But, your excitement returned shortly after as he brought you close, holding you tight in his embrace.

He guided himself toward your entrance, slamming inside to the hilt, to which you audibly gasped. Your lips had separated, his strong arms wrapped around shoulders as he watched your face with a glare. He didn’t wait for you to adjust before he pulled back and sunk all the way in, his jaw ticking as he welcomed the pleasure. It was uncomfortable and painful at first, but soon the bliss overrode anything besides it.

“Niklaus...” Your whispers were addressed to the night, eyes falling shut and chin pointed up as he ground into you, his ass tight as he worked. The muscles in his back flexed underneath the scratch of your nails, his mouth moving to suckle at the smooth skin of your neck. A hand moved to your tit, his thumb flicking your hardened nipple.

He consumed all your senses as he took you, your body trapped underneath his as he held you against him. In moments like these, you couldn’t feel more his. As he kissed you, touched you, fucked you like he owned everything that was you. You got to see a side no one else was allowed to witness, his most primal state. The animal deep within was obsessed with you, marking you as it’s only worthy prey.

His queen.

The headboard tapped against the wall with each harsh thrust, the room filled with cries and groans. Your high wasn’t far, you could feel it nearing with the heat flushing through your entire body. The coil was tightening in your pelvis and the relentless snapping of Klaus’ hips pushed you further and further to bliss.

Your legs shook around his waist as you fell over the edge, his gaze on you, intensely studying the way your eyes brightened as the levee broke. Sweat ran down the valley between your breasts as your chest heaved, your lashes fluttering in excitement.

You were abruptly flipped over, large hands tugging at your waist and pushing down on your back so that your arch grew steeper. He slipped back inside, leaning over your body so he could grip the back of your neck. He mercilessly slammed his hips against your ass, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

The rougher he pushed into you, the rougher you pushed back against him, earning an harsh slap on the ass that made you jolt. Moaning as the pain shot straight to your core, you gripped the sheets so tight your fingers began to ache.

The sex never failed to quench your thirst, to quell the ache you felt during nearly every moment in his presence. But this, the rough, vast passion produced a feeling that only came from him. The tight grip of his hands, his eager kiss and his ravenous gaze — it relit the fire in you, made you feel truly alive.

He threw his head back momentarily before it fell so he could watch himself rut into you. You thought it was insane how quickly he could take you there as you felt the pleasure building in your lower stomach. “Fuck,” you cursed repeatedly under your breath as you came all over his cock.

You were lifted off of the bed and into Klaus’ lap, his palm sliding up to wrap around your throat. Fucking into you with fervor, his other hand slipped in between your thighs to thumb your clit. His cock stroked your g-spot, the over stimulation sending you into a spiral that elicited a strangled scream from your throat.

“One more, lovie. For me, please.” You’d never come so fast so many times in a row. Not that he was a gentle lover, but breaks were usually taken. Yet, you knew you could him another. He knew your body better than you did, anything was possible with him.

You rocked against his palm and cock as he pulled your face to him as he sought out your lips once more, smashing his mouth against yours in a heated kiss. It seemed his entire mood had shifted, the anger alleviating, leaving behind pure lust. Your fingers slipped up over his nape and into his hair, roughly tugging on the soft golden curls.

He groaned in response, “Just like that.” Klaus ducked his head down, nose running along the junction between your shoulder and neck, his tongue flicking against you. Due to his salivating, his drool found your skin, rolling until it met your hardened peak. To which he flicked as he slowly thrusted his hips, leaving you to shudder in utter surprise and arousal. “Going to come for me, hm?”

It’d be your third time tonight and you weren’t sure if you could do it again. Kisses of encouragement were peppered along your cheek, “Tell me...” You could feel his hooded gaze trained on the side of your face, awaiting a verbal response.

Although, you couldn’t give one as your lips parted so you could let out a loud, shaky cry.

He kissed you then, refusing to pull away, tugging your plump bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go with a snap. Watching as you came undone, he couldn’t help the admiration that sparkled in his darkened eyes under the moonlight that streamed into your bedroom. You were hyper aware of it, of every part of him, attempting to hold his gaze as he continued to rock into you through your bliss.

He pecked your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Instead of emphasizing the last word, it came out as a moan as your sudden release washed over you, while simultaneously hitting you like a freight train. As you clenched around him, Klaus groaned loudly in your ear, burying his head in your neck.

Biting down on your shoulder, his cock thickened before he came hard, warmth filling your insides. You inhaled deeply, exhaustion hooding your eyelids. Laying down, you rolled onto your back and welcomed your husband as he laid across your chest.

You watched him from above, wondering what had him acting so out of character. Although, you couldn’t deny that whatever it was, you hoped it would happen more often.

[that-kid-from-vault-101]

The blood dripping from my hands belongs to at least a dozen people. Ford, the rest of the bounty hunters, not to mention myself.

I can scarcely move at a limp, having been gassed, beaten, shot, and buried alive all within the last four hours, but I nose open the back door of the saloon, struggling towards the graveyard, leaving the deep snow red in my wake.

I spare some thought to what brought me here, as I slip on the slope to the valley pass, catching myself on an outcropping, staring for a moment at the ground as I open my mouth to spit what had to be mostly half-clotted blood into the muddy slush around my boots.

Randall. God, Randall, you wonderful ghoul-hating bastard. Only once in my life have I had such high respect for an employer, never have I come to call one a friend. You didn’t deserve what you got, no one in Frosthill did, but to have your recompense snatched from you before your very eyes, after so long, being so close, I cannot imagine how gutted your last moments were.

You paid me fair for honest work, you relished in ridding the world of its scum as much as I did. You spoke to me, let me drink your whiskey while you told me what Marko had done to your family. When the bottle was halfway gone, you sat and listened while I told you what had happened to mine.

I told you you’d have made a good father. You told me to quit the soft shit, but that you thought the same of me.

I slide down the slope leading to the graveyard uncontrolled, rolling the last meter or so, and catch myself on my elbows. I think if I’d used my hands I’d pass out from the pain, the two weeping holes barely patched up, unhealed and bleeding like Christ’s stigmata as I prepare to do something so very un-Christlike.

The graveyard is vast. The fever took most of frosthill a decade back, and it had taken years to recover. It’s an eerie scene, as Marko pats down the earth at the end of the center walkway.

He buried you himself. Some gesture of respect, I suppose, for your tenacity. Your drive. The only thing he’s capable of respecting, I think.

He doesn’t notice me, at least not at first. He plants the shovel in the ground, as though admiring his handiwork, but perks up at the sound of the snow crunching beneath my boots.

He turns halfway, his expression irritated, likely thinking me one of his peons interrupting his work, before it turns to befuddlement. He opens his mouth, inhales to speak, but your pistol is already in my hand.

Marko’s fast, but I’ve been at this since I was 19. I’m faster. He clears leather, but the sound of that hollow-point .44 hitting flesh thuds through the courtyard before he can do anything with it.

It catches him in the hinge of his jaw, shearing it away and carrying it with the momentum of the bullet away from the rest of him. Marko falls to one knee, his tongue flapping in the freezing air like some obscene tentacle.

I didn’t come here to hear him talk.

Marko is tough, very tough, and he sets back onto his knee, trying to bring his pistol up and around. The revolver kicks again, and his pistol drops, his hand hanging by a ligament and a few strings of meat.

The pain hits now, the adrenaline starting to ebb even as my anger reaches its peak. The kick of the revolver against my ruined palm sears through me like a hot poker and I stumble, leaning against one of the gravestones for a second until the nausea goes away.

I gather myself and stand. He’s looking at me, drooling blood down the front of his woolen coat, his breathing thick and clotted, but his eyes are clear, unclouded, his head tilting back to meet my eye as I approach.

Our eyes meet, and his are a pale, beautiful blue, full of hatred and disgust as he looks up at me. Confusion, too, as though he couldn’t fathom a loss of dominance, couldn’t imagine a situation in which he was not the one in control.

I don’t relish the moment. I can’t. There’s nothing to enjoy. There is only a job to be done. I remember another old friends words. Killing, when done righteously, is a chore like any other.

I raise your old Remington, Randall, and settle the barrel right between his eyes. He doesn’t flinch.

“You’re just another fucking raider.”

I pull the trigger.

[maybcnksgf]

like i do

a/n welcome to my first liam dunbar fic :)

pairing: liam dunbar x reader

warnings: swearing, season 6 spoilers, the fight scene in 6x14, blood, mentions of death.

word count: 2.2k

check out my masterlist!

liam dunbar. the school’s ‘monster’.

he looked around the hallway frantically, listening carefully to make sure the rumours spreading through the school weren’t too apparent. he was so focused that he jumped when you placed your had comfortingly on his shoulder. 

“just remember what we talked about. they don’t know you like i do,” you whispered against his ear, smiling softly when he turned around to face you with a nervous expression painted across his features. 

mason approached the two of you with a relieved sigh. “okay,” he breathed out, facing his best friend with a reassuring nod, “not bad so far. this might be easier than we thought.”

“maybe,” he nodded in reluctant agreement, clearly not convinced. as the three of you began to walk, you looped your fingers through liam’s. 

well, that was short lived.

the minute you turned the corner, everyone turned to look at him. glares and dirty looks were thrown towards the boy in between you and mason, and you saw his shoulders slump in defeat in your peripheral vision. 

the looks he could handle. not that he was happy about them, because he was far from it. they made him feel like a freak, like a monster. but, they were manageable. it was only when you reached his locker that the whispers started. whispers that he could hear all too well. 

liam tensed up beside you, and though you couldn’t hear the voices like he could, you could only assume the nasty words rolling off of their tongues. he turned to the source of voices, facing them with a hurt expression before frantically looking around as the sound of them built up. 

“hey,” you spoke softly, snapping him out of his panic, “just block them out. don’t listen to them.”

“they know...” he whispered, voice strained in worry. 

“they’re just rumours,” mason reassured, trying to calm down the anxious boy in front of him, “they don’t know anything.”

corey was then by mason’s side in an instant, bearing bad news. “they know everything.” 

you shot him a pointed look, squeezing liam’s hand tightly in your own to calm him down before the anxiety began to bubble up again. 

“two sophomores on the lacrosse team were there last night,” corey continued, referring to liam’s shift in front of the public the night before. 

mason lightly shoved his boyfriend with his elbow as a warning, and scrambled with his words. “yeah, but it was late! it was pitch black out, and there was fog on the road-”

“it was a clear night. full moon, and a well-lit intersection,” corey interrupted, once again ruining the attempts to console him. 

liam inhaled a sharp breath. “i have to get out of here.”

“no. if you leave, these rumours never stop. you need to convince them that you’re a regular kid, that you’re not the monster they think you are.” your words were hushed, bringing your other hand up to rub liam’s shoulder in a comforting manner. 

“i’m not a regular kid,” he countered, voice shaky and cracking. 

“remember what scott said?” mason added, “be clark kent!” 

“clark kent turns into a guy with a red and blue outfit and a cape. i turn into a monster with claws and fangs!”

“you’re not a monster,” you replied calmly. 

“just get through the day without shifting,” corey suggested, and liam nodded with a deep breath. he lifted an arm to drape it around your shoulders while yours found home around his waist. 

“okay. get through the day without shifting. easy enough, right?”

-

wrong. 

you watched helplessly as liam was thrown through the doorway of your biology classroom and hit the floor with a thud. a group of kids were gathered around, eager to watch a fight break out and potentially see the other side to liam dunbar. 

you struggled against the grip of an older boy, huge hands latching onto your upper arms and keeping you from running to your boyfriend. it seemed as though mason was in the same predicament, judging by his protesting shout. 

liam’s eyes flashed yellow for a moment, as his heavy breathing briefly sounded like a growl. 

“get up,” nolan demanded, “get up!”

he managed to push himself up to a kneeling position before gabe’s foot made harsh contact with his lower back, kicking him straight back to the ground.

“gabe, you sick little bitch! leave him alone!” you shouted through the crowd’s commotion, and the boy on the ground struggled to contain his shift. “your eyes, liam. c’mon, you can do this,” you whispered, voice so hushed you were sure that nobody could hear apart from him. 

this seemed to calm him down momentarily before gabe tugged him back to his feet by his shoulders. “what are you trying to hide, liam? your eyes?” he taunted, shoving his back into the chalkboard with a sickening crunch. “open your eyes.”

the room burst out into reactions and a cruel grin painted itself across gabe’s face. when liam slowly let his eyelids rise, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your lips turn up in a proud smile as the normal baby blue colour of his eyes shined through. 

the boys, however, were clearly not too happy with this, because nolan immediately reeled his fist back and let it smash straight into liam’s nose. 

your face fell as you thrashed around in the student‘s grip, furious grunts leaving your throat. 

your boyfriend’s head fell back against the chalkboard with a pained breath, hand lifting up to wipe the crimson liquid from his nose. 

“hey! let him go!” mason screamed, struggling against the crowd. 

“leave him alone, you sick freaks!” you added. 

“are you just going to let us do this to you?!” nolan continued, ignoring your protests as gabe landed another punch to liam’s face, this time hitting both his cheekbone and his nose. he dropped to the ground from the impact with a deep, painful groan. 

nolan grabbed the boy by his face and dragged him back up to look at him. 

liam’s nose was covered in blood, hair falling messily across his forehead as he screwed his eyes shut. 

“you know you can take us. all you have to do is change,” nolan spoke lowly, his grip on liam’s head strong as he shook it with every word. “does your little girlfriend know that you’re a freak? that you’re a monster?”

you felt the rage inside of your chest building every second. “nolan, you bastard! i’m going to kill you-!”

liam choked back a cough, blood rising from his throat and coating his teeth as he opened his mouth to speak his first words while being in their hands. “the sun...” he sputtered out. 

“what?” nolan looked taken aback, furrowing his eyebrows at the ‘freak’ in front of him. 

“the sun,” liam repeated, peeling his eyes open and staring back at nolan threateningly. “the moon, the truth...”

the mantra seemed to gain him a slight amount of control. “come on, li. you can do this,” you whispered, the sound evident in his ears and his ears only. 

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“who cares?” gabe responded nonchalantly, shoving nolan out of the way and sending another violent punch to liam’s face. 

this sent him flying to the ground, coughing and shaking in both pain and anger. his eyes glowed yellow for a split second before his head hung low and a guttural growl of agony burnt through his throat.  

that was the moment you decided, you wanted to break every single bone in both gabe and nolan’s bodies.

“can’t you see how badly you’re hurting him?! he’s in agony! let him go!” you screamed, the student holding you seeming unfazed to the thrashing around. 

“you’re fighting it,” nolan stated, ignoring you completely. the pained grunts and groans tearing through liam’s throat left the boys unaffected, and your eyes welled up in fury at the sight of your boyfriend withstanding such a beating. “but you can’t hold back forever!”

at that moment, your biology teacher, ms finch, pushed her way through the crowd, and all eyes turned to her as gabe and nolan halted their movements.

 “do something!” mason shouted. she took one look at liam’s quivering form on his knees, covered in his own blood and shaking from the pain, and looked away. 

“sometimes it’s best to let them work things out on their own,” she spoke, raising her hands in mock defeat. 

liam’s head snapped up to her, eyes filled with disbelief before sending you a pleading glance. 

“what is wrong with you?! you’re a teacher! he’s being beaten to a pulp and you’re just going to walk away?!” you screamed at her, gesturing to liam on the ground with a cock of your head. 

ms finch looked at you for a split second before making her way out of the classroom. “you bitch!” you shouted after her. she froze in her place for a single moment, and you almost believed she would turn around and stop the fight, but she continued on her way without a second glance. 

the moment she left, gabe grabbed liam by the hair, forcing his head upwards. his breathing was shallow, loud and forceful and agonising as gabe sent his knee flying into liam’s chin. 

he fell onto his back and coughed loudly, blood spluttering out of his mouth like a fountain as he choked on it, though the boys didn’t stop there. they slammed their feet down against his ribs, taunting him and laughing while doing so, allowing his bones to break under their weight. you let out a broken and angry sob at the sight, watching as gabe grabbed liam by his shirt and pulled his head up. 

liam’s face was completely covered in his own blood, tears were staining his eyelashes as he tried his hardest not to fight back. 

something clicked within you at that moment. you sent your foot flying back into your holder’s crotch, and as you felt him release you and double over in pain, you bolted into the centre of the fight. 

gabe’s fist was reeled back, about to land another punch to your boyfriend’s face before you grabbed his arm, effectively spinning him around. he still sent the punch, but this time, it was at you. 

you let his fist connect with your jaw, and felt the impact of another hit as his second punch landed on your nose with a crunch. 

“y/n!” liam croaked out, too weak to jump to your rescue. 

he clearly didn’t need to, however, because suddenly the coach was there, shoving people out of the way with corey right behind him. 

“what the hell is going on?!” he screamed, grabbing gabe and nolan by the shirts and shoving them towards the door. “back off! hey, get to the principles office now!”

your face throbbed in pain as you wiped the blood away from your nose with your sleeve, but you ignored it as you fell to your knees by liam’s form. his body heaved, and his hands gripped onto his (very clearly broken) ribs. 

“what the hell is this? get out, all of you! i can’t stand to look at your faces!” the coach boomed, clearing out the crowd. 

all that was background noise to you as you combed liam’s hair away from the fresh blood on his face with your fingers. he was still grunting in pain when the coach kneeled by his other side, a look of disbelief and sorrow evident in his eyes, which was a rare look for the man. 

mason and corey softly grabbed liam by the arms and hauled him up to a standing position, coughs tearing through his throat. 

you followed suit, lightly gripping his shoulders to help him stand. “oh my goodness, liam,” you muttered quietly, placing a hand on the back of his head as he caught his breath. 

“i can’t believe you did that...” mason sighed, holding onto his back to steady him. 

“clark kent, right?” liam breathed out, forcing a slight nod as a smile ghosted your lips. 

“yeah, clark kent,” mason agreed. 

liam’s head fell against your shoulder in exhaustion, and your hand laced itself into his hair as you silently cried with him in your arms. 

-

“feeling any better?” you asked him quietly, sitting down next to him on your bed. he had an ice pack against his cheekbone and he was clutching his ribs protectively. he was mostly healed by now, but his body still hurt like hell. liam nodded. 

“yeah. still hurts, though.”

you wrapped an arm around him, carefully avoiding his aching bones, and he let out a deep sigh before letting his head fall against your shoulder.

”i know you think you deserved that, but you didn’t. brett and lori’s murder wasn’t your fault.”

he shrugged, clenching his jaw at the mention of their death and shutting his eyes when you let your hand run through his hair comfortingly. a few moments of comfortable silence passed by before he spoke up again.

“you didn’t have to do that, you know. get punched for me,” he said softly.

you chuckled at that, causing him to look at you quizzically. 

“you literally got beaten to a pulp and you’re worried about the two punches i got to the face?”

liam breathed out a slight laugh. “obviously. you can’t heal like i can.”

continuing playing with his hair, you grinned at him. “i’d take a punch to the face for you any day.”

[taechaos]

No More

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: dark romance, college au

synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.

warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst

word count: 6.7k

a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol

If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.

Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”

“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.

Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day… 

You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.

Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?

“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.

The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.

“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty. 

You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.

A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.

“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.

“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.

“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?

“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”

“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously. 

“Oh, right–”

Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”

“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.

“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.

Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.

“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”

Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really. 

He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.

The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade. 

You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”

“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?” 

“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.” 

After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of. 

“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.

You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.

“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle. 

“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”

“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.

“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.

When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”

He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”

“Daddy?” 

It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.

“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”

“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?” 

You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”

“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”

Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”

“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.

“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.

“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.

“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.

“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss. 

“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance. 

“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”

“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck. 

“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.

You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink. 

There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”

The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure. 

“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet. 

“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.

 “I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”

“Keep fucking begging.”

You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.

“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.

“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness. 

“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”

“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.

The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.

“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”

“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”

“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”

“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”

“I am not–"

“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.

“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”

A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”

“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”

“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”

“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”

“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”

He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.

“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”

You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this. 

“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”

“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot. 

He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”

“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?” 

Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.

He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.

“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.

You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.

“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.

“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”

“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells. 

“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?

“They weren’t–”

“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.

“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.

An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?

When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.

He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”

“I’m over that.”

“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”

“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.

“And what he did wasn’t?” 

Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?

“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”

Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.

You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.

Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.

“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.

“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be. 

“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”

“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You somehow always do.”

Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.

 “Why are you… so invested in this?”

He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”

“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.

“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.

You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”

“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”

Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst. 

You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.

Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.

It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.

You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.

People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.

It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.

He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse. 

As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.

Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt. 

“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”

“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”

He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”

You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”

“Then why do you?”

He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”

“You are good for me,” you interject.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”

“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”

“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”

“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.

The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”

“Really?”

“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”

“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him. 

Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing. 

You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer. 

Jungkook’s love and trust: check.

When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.

“Love you more, babygirl.”

[t0wnspersonb]

Rest (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,515

Warning: SMUT, LANGUAGE

I’m literally in love with Bakugo Katsuki. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and I might make this a small series, I love me some domesticated shit and I hope you guys do too. This is the first smut I’ve ever written so please keep that in mind as you’re reading lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugo sighed deeply as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground with a soft thud. His red eyes burned with exhaustion, his body felt incredibly heavy tonight after his shift. 

It wasn’t that he disliked being a top pro-hero, far from it. 

In fact, if someone were to ask him if he hated or loved being a hero he would scoff at them and blast their ass.

Of course he loved his job.

Becoming a pro-hero was his dream, the ultimate goal in his life. The amount of hours, blood, sweat, and tears he had put into his training was not for nothing.

Of course he fucking loved his job.

But sometimes. 

Sometimes he wouldn’t mind being able to rest.

Like now.

Now, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep.

Bakugo flipped the light on in the kitchen, taking notice of the just washed dishes in the dish rack and the scent of cleanser lingering in the air.

Y/n must’ve cleaned up before she went to work. He thought briefly before opening up the fridge to see what was available to eat. 

His expression softened once he laid his eyes on the plate of food wrapped up with a note on top.

Missing you a lot today, don’t overwork yourself.-Y/n

After reheating his dinner he sat down at the table, sighing deeply once more now that he was finally off of his feet.

It had been a long couple of days. A couple of weeks of nonstop back-to-back hero work. Which meant that Bakugo was rarely home, either arriving far too late into the night, or leaving far too early in the morning. There were only small traces that he had actually been there, a coffee cup left in the sink, the bathroom being damp still from a shower.

It was weeks like this one that were incredibly taxing on Bakugo, and that was because he never got to see you. 

His wife. 

It also didn’t help that your work schedule at the hospital was just as busy. Almost seemingly as the exact opposite of his.

He figured you had another night shift tonight as he headed to the bedroom.

But he froze at the doorway.

The tightness in his body melted completely as he gazed at your sleeping figure. 

You were curled up under the blankets, fast asleep, and completely unaware of the tall man staring at you.

Bakugo couldn’t move fast enough.

All he could think about was curling up against you tonight, holding you close, and burying his face into your hair.

He had missed you too much.

He stripped down to his underwear and moved to slide under the blankets, his expression further softening as he noticed that you were wearing one of his t-shirts.

Carefully coming up behind you, he moved to wrap one of his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close, tucking you into his chest easily.

But you were roused awake from the sudden movement.

“Katsu?” you mumbled softly, eyes still heavy with sleep but you shifted your body so that you were facing the warm solid man now next to you.

“Go back to sleep.” he grumbled, both of you settling down against one another. He peered down at you with a gentle expression.

He had never seen anything more beautiful. 

“How was it today?” you hummed softly, slinging your right arm around his broad shoulder, your leg kicking up to wrap around his waist. 

Bakugo wrapped his fingers around your thigh, tugging you closer. His hand was big and warm, the roughness of his palms and fingers felt perfect against your soft skin. 

A touch you were desperately craving the past couple of weeks. 

“Dumbass Deku got overrun with the villains we were chasing down, I had go and save his stupid ass.” he grumbled, moving his hand up to slide into your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns into your back.

“Hmm.” you sighed softly, nuzzling your nose against his collarbone, inhaling that familiar burnt caramel scent.

Both of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. It was clear that both of you were exhausted, but neither of you had gone to sleep just yet.

There was a hum in the air.

A familiar one.

You looked up at the man that you’ve known your entire life. His eyes were closed, but you knew that he wasn’t asleep.

Your gaze started at the top of his head. His spiky hair was more disheveled than usual, but you knew that it was incredibly soft and perfect beneath your fingers.

Moving your eyes further down you took in his perfectly arched eyebrows and long lashes, but beneath that you noticed the dark circles framing his lower lids. 

Frowning softly at your husband’s apparent lack of sleep you continued your search against his face. 

His nose was perfect, and just below it, those soft full lips.

Your stomach flipped pleasantly. A familiar feeling bubbling in your lower stomach.

He was fucking beautiful.

And that was just his face. You knew that his body was just as perfect, if not better.

It was as if Bakugo Katsuki was sculpted from the gods themselves. 

How you were married to such a beautiful man, you didn’t know. It was then that you started to be more aware of those muscular arms that were wrapped around you. Those strong, thick fingers gripping your upper thigh tightly.

Your heart rate picked up, and you shifted slightly, attempting to get closer to him.

“Stop staring at me, shitty woman.” he grumbled, cracking one eye open to peer down at you. “It’s fucking creepy.”

Now you remember how you ended up with this beautiful man. His shit fucking personality. 

I guess it’s true when they say you can’t have it all, you thought dryly. Of course your husband couldn’t be a gorgeous man without having some kind of flaw. 

It was actually a wonder how you guys had been together so long. 

Childhood friends turned lovers.

You had been by his side since birth it felt like. 

Considering your mother and his mother were good friends, it was bound to happen that you two would be as well. 

You were the complete opposite of Bakugo. 

Kind. Sweet. Gentle. 

You weren’t in the hero course when you had gone to U.A., rather you had gotten into the support course.

Which wasn’t a problem for you. You didn’t want to become a hero. Rather, being able to help behind the scenes and being able to support those that wanted to be on the front lines, protecting and saving people, like your husband.

“Don’t be mean Katsu, I haven’t seen your grumpy face in weeks. Can’t a wife just look at her husband?” You grumbled pinching and pulling his cheeks.

He huffed angrily, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull your fingers away from his face. “Let go, that fucking hurts.” he growled. “Stupid woman, you think I want to come home and be pestered like this?”

You snorted, an amused expression on your face as you ignored Bakugo’s increasing insults and attempts at stopping you from pulling his cheeks, increasing the pressure of your fingers on his face.

“You little shit.” he growled. He gripped your wrist tightly and shifted one of his legs to be between your thighs and moved, heaving you onto your back. Your wrists were pinned on either side of your head, Bakugo above you.

Oh fuck.

The position you were in caused your heart rate to pick up once again. Your eyes flickered down his body, appreciating the bulging muscles and the way his boxers now hung lower on his hips. 

The smirk on his face wasn’t helping the situation either. 

“Like what you see?” he sneered.

You rolled your eyes and moved your leg, shifting it up so that you could press your knee carefully against his crotch.

You could feel his growing bulge. You felt the rising blush in your face and looked away from him, going to move your leg down from its current position. But Bakugo was too fast for you, he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his hip and settled himself between your legs. Pressing himself to your center.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. 

“Why are you getting all shy now?” he teased, rolling his hips against yours. 

“Sh-Shut up.” you gasped, lips parting in arousal. “You haven’t even kissed me yet Katsu.”

He chuckled slightly, and released his grip on your wrists, allowing you to slither your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the back of hair. He leaned closer down to your face, one his hands grabbing at your jaw, the other one propping himself up to keep most of his weight off of you.

And then he was kissing you. His lips hot and urgent against yours, his tongue already poking through your lips, eager to taste the inside of your mouth.

You moaned softly, arching your body into his as your grip in his hair tightened. 

Bakugo growled against your mouth, grinding into your core harshly.

All thoughts of sleep are now gone. All Bakugo could think about was you, and how much he wanted to be inside of you. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had you, and now, he wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Fuck, what do you want?” he growled, pulling away from you and seeing your swollen lips. Your eyes were wide and bright, full of want and need. 

His stomach churned pleasantly.

Before you could answer him his fingers were already where you wanted them the most. He rubbed at your clit in harsh controlled circles, his red eyes dark and filled with need as he gazed at your moaning flushed face.

“K - ah - Katsu. Please,” you whimpered, gripping his hair tightly between your fists. Your hips moving along with his fingers.

“Please what? What do you want?” he sneered, applying more pressure before he pushed your panties to the side, his middle finger sliding against your wet slit, but not fully penetrating you.

You felt tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, it had been too long. All you wanted was him to fuck you already. 

“You. I want you please.” you moaned out, bucking your hips up, urging him to enter you already. “Please Katsu, I missed you so much.”

Fuck. 

He missed you too. He was tired of the foreplay already, he needed to be inside you. 

Snarling loudly he all but ripped the clothes off your body before removing his boxers. His member stood tall and gorgeously thick against his stomach.

Your mouth watered at the sight, you wanted it in your mouth.

“Later.” he growled, noticing the look on your face. “I want to fuck you already.”

He spread your legs apart, gazing at you hungrily before taking his cock and rubbing it against your glistening slit, and then he rammed into you.

You cried out loudly as Bakugo set a brutal pace. Hard and fast, and incredibly deep inside your pussy.

It had been too long, your body needing time to adjust to his intrusion, your walls stretching to fit his thickness.

But he wouldn’t let you. Bakugo gave in to his desire and set a pace that had you gasping to keep up. 

Fuck did it feel good though.

The familiar pressure building up within yourself, ready to snap at any minute.

Bakugo was snarling above you, lost in the pleasure of your warm, wet walls gripping him tighter and tighter. He knew you were almost at your limit, he was too. 

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, it had been too long since the last time he was inside of you, but he needed you to cum first.

His grip was bruising on your hips; his mouth sucking and biting at every inch of skin that was within his reach. You knew you were going to have marks in the morning, but you didn’t care. 

His cock rubbed into the deepest parts of you, leaving you breathless and shaking. He always made you feel so full. 

“You gonna cum on my cock princess?” he growled, reaching down and rubbing your clit again. 

Your back arched, your head thrashing against the pillows as your pleasure began to build further up. “Katsu - ngh - I’m close.” you whimpered out.

He smirked, pulling out of your pussy before slamming himself back in.

And that was it.

You came hard, crying out and trembling beneath him, your wetness gushing out and staining the sheets below.

He snarled loudly, jackhammering his hips into yours as he chased his release before groaning lowly in his throat and spilling himself inside of you.

His hips finally stilled, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against yours softly before trailing delicate kisses against the bites he had left scattered across your throat and collar bone. 

He stayed buried deep inside of you as he continued to soothe your battered body.

Bakugo knew that he was never gentle when you guys made love. He knew that his pace was always rough and harsh, but the aftercare was a different story.

After the intense fucking he always gave you, it was important for him to take care of you tenderly. He carefully pulled his softened cock out of you, hushing you softly as you whimpered from the loss.

He watched as his cum seeped out of you, smirking slightly to himself before he pressed a gentle kiss to your hip and got up to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean you and himself up.

When he came back you were already on the verge of falling asleep again. He sat near your legs, pressing a soft kiss to your knee as he cleaned up the mess he made between your legs.

You hissed softly, your lower body sore and sensitive. He hushed you once more as he finished cleaning up, tossing the cloth somewhere behind him, he’d take of that in the morning.

Starting at your hips he trailed his soft lips up your body, pressing the sweetest kisses into your skin, gazing at you with gentle eyes.

The aftercare was his favorite part.

You were so fucking beautiful like this, completely drained after all the pleasure that he had given you. Your skin littered with his marks, your lips red and swollen from his intense kisses, your hair a ruffled mess around your head after moving it back and forth so much. 

He pulled the blankets over your bodies as he settled next to you, wrapping his arms around your body tightly.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, your eyes closing automatically, sleep ready to take you under.

“I love you Katsu.” you breathed softly, pressing your face into his chest. “So much.”

“Go to sleep.” he grumbled tenderly, placing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I got you."

[breakyeol]

touch it (sensual oils)

one shot

┗ pairing : baekhyun x reader

words: 4k

warnings: smut, sensual massage, byun-booty, hand job, light overstimulation 

a/n; because baekhyun deserves it

Baekhyun had a bad day.

That much was glaringly obvious from the very moment he stepped through the door, looking about ready to crawl beneath your bedsheets and never come out. He collapsed into your arms with a pathetic whine the moment you rose from where you were situated on the couch, the full weight of his body thrown against your chest. You grunted at the unexpected impact, quickly wrapping your arms around his slim waist when you felt his knees beginning to give out.

“Baek!” You yelped, struggling feebly to support the both of you. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m too tired to stand,” he cried out dramatically, voice muffled against your shoulder, “my body feels like it’s turning into mush.”

You clicked your tongue at his familiar dramatics, a fond smile flitting across your lips in spite of yourself. “Oh my poor baby~” you cooed playfully, petting the top of his head, “they worked you into the ground?”

A heavy pout tugged at the corners of his lips, big droopy eyes swinging up to meet yours as he bobbed his head. “I’m already sore. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” He complained noisily, hands curling into tight fists around the material of your sweatshirt.

This close, you could easily make out the lingering scent of sweat clinging to his skin, and you didn’t doubt for a second he worked until he was drenched in it. There was a flash, an image that passed before your eyes, of Baekhyun, sweat rolling down the smooth slope of his chin, dripping from the fringes of his bangs, glistening enticingly above his brow, his mouth pink and open, gasping. It vanished just as quickly as it had come, and your attention was drawn back to the whining mess of a man squirming against your chest.

“Go shower,” you suggested, not trusting your voice above a careful whisper, “then come to bed, okay?”

“I don’t want to. Just hold me.”

You snickered, combing your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, feeling the way his body melted into the tender caress. “I will gladly hold you for the rest of the night… after you take a shower.”

He only offered an unintelligible grunt in response, showing no signs of detaching himself from your body, his hold around you tightening in a display of stubborn resistance. There was little doubt in your mind that he’d keep this up for as long as your patience allowed – which, given how soft you were for the man, was a fairly long time –, but you knew you’d both be better off once he felt clean and refreshed, cleansed of the day’s many hardships.

“You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”

A groan this time.

“I’ll make you feel a lot better afterwards.”

At that reparation, his head snapped up, eyes wide and, despite the exhaustion, glinting with a hint of excitement. His spine straightened, grip around you loosening somewhat as strength seemed to return to his muscles. “Really?” He whispered, pink tongue slipping out from between petal lips. So easy. You could’ve scoffed, but thought better of yourself, settling for a suggestive cock of your head that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

“Go shower,” you hummed, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and guiding his face down towards yours, “then… we’ll see.”

He let out a huff of breath, eyes going hooded as they flickered down to trace the smug curve of lips. “You’re mean.”

You laughed lightly, planting a kiss that was far too short for Baekhyun’s liking to his pouted mouth before skillfully untangling yourself from his arms. “We’ll see just how mean I can be once you come to bed.” You called teasingly over your shoulder, grinning in wild amusement at the low curse that followed.

It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way into the bedroom that you heard the soft hiss of the shower. You waited until you heard the low groan that told you that your boyfriend had finally stepped beneath the hot spray to permeate through the separating wall before you jumped into action.

This wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had come home looking ready to collapse and you doubted it would be the last. There wasn’t much you could do about him having to go to work. No matter what you said or how many times you told him he should give himself a chance to rest and recover, he would always put his everything into his work, because that was just the kind of man he was. He was all passion and fire and unrelenting persistence even when he felt like he might die. It was a quality that sparked both admiration and fear inside of you.

There was a certain helplessness that came with being the person he came home to after a long day of work, body and mind teetering dangerously on the brink of exhaustion. There wasn’t much you could do to ease his stress, as he wasn’t the type to verbally unload or express his unease to its full extent. Sure, he was dramatic, but only in a playful sense. That was his way of downplaying and covering up his true feelings, to both you and himself.

But, there were still other ways you could help. And, with some brainstorming and a bit of research, you’d come up with the perfect plan to help ease some of Baekhyun’s tension. Though, you had to scramble a bit to set the scene, you knew it would be fully worth it to see the look on his face.

It was just as you’d lit the final candle, completing the final touches, that you heard the shower shut off. Perfect timing. You quickly situated yourself on the edge of the bed, the cool air caressing your scantily clad body, rousing goosebumps across your skin.

But, the chills tickling your spine were little more than a second thought as Baekhyun stepped into the room donning nothing more than a towel that hung dangerously low on his full hips. He paused just inside the doorway, his brows shooting upwards as he took in the state of your shared bedroom. Wide eyes danced over the flickering candles laid out strategically across the hardwood floor to encircle the bed, swept over the scattered rose petals, before finally landing on you.

You, wearing a deep crimson lingerie set, a sheer silk robe, and nothing more.

His bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, rose sharply as his breath hitched. A low curse tumbled from his lips, almost too faint to hear over the seductive instrumentals pulsing from the speakers.

A satisfied smirk broke across your face at his reaction, pleased with yourself for having successfully caught him off guard.

“Surprise,” you sang, voice low and silken.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his own amazement rooting him in place as he visually inhaled the sight of you. Your skin was hot beneath the intensity of his gaze, blazing as it trailed torturously slow up the length of your body, not daring to miss a single detail.

A faint buzz of nerves fizzled in your gut.

You’d never done anything like this before. Presented yourself in such a way to him, that is. All wrapped up in silk and lace of only the most sensual nature, bathed in smooth orange candlelight that tickled your ankles and crept up the smooth length of your lower legs. This was something new for the both of you, something unexplored. But it also wasn’t everything you had in store.

When he moved, it was with the utmost cautiousness, as if stepping too quickly or too harshly might disturb the beautiful illusion spread before him. But still, he moved, unable to resist the temptation.

Without speaking, his hands found your face, curving around the shape of your jaw and winding around the back of your neck. They were cold against your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled down your spine as he leaned over you. You let out a soft hum at his touch, head rolling back under his gentle coaxing.

Not a beat passed before his mouth found yours, eager and impatient. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, easily finding the smooth slope of his naked waist and tugging him closer. He moaned somewhere low in his throat, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lip. You allowed as much, indulging the hungry press of his mouth, the careful nips of his teeth — until he tried to lay you down.

Your palms met the swells of his chest, and he pulled away, breathless and confused. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely, licking over his swollen lips. You’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t look irresistible in that moment, wet hair hanging messily over his brows, dark, hooded eyes, all haze and lust as they stared down at you heatedly, full cheeks blushing a feverish shade of red. But you had plans for tonight, plans you didn’t intend to discard for the sake of sexual pleasure.

“I’m not fucking you.”

He gasped, disbelief coloring his features. “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you grinned, settling your hands on his hips, “I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massa— ah!” his words cut off abruptly with a high pitched yelp as you suddenly spun him around, all but throwing him down onto the petal covered mattress. He could only stare at you in shock as you crawled over his nearly naked body, mouth curved into a playful smile.

“A massage.” You confirmed, sounding rather proud. But, he still looked less than amused, so you elaborated. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’ve been stressed and your body is exhausted. A massage will help release some of that tension.”

“You know what else releases tension?” He asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You cocked a brow, feeling the light press of his fingertips as they feathered over your thighs, taking an obvious path upwards. Desire and mischief swirled in his eyes, voice low and thick as the words dripped slowly from his dangerous tongue, “Hot… passionate… s—”

You snatched his hands from your skin before they could reach their destination, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “Shut up and roll over.”

He huffed, pouting up at you scornfully but obeyed nonetheless, rolling onto his stomach. “Do you even know how to give a massage?” He snipped as you settled yourself on the back of his towel clad thighs.

“I’ve done my research.” You offered lightly, sparing a moment to admire the lithe, sinewy build of his shoulders and back before you moved, reaching for the tall bottle you’d situated on the nightstand earlier. He followed your movements from the corner of his eye, curiosity breaking through the petulant facade.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“Perhaps,” you teased, pouring the translucent golden liquid into your palm, “but you’ll enjoy this, I promise. Just… relax.”

A defeated sigh escaped his chest, his body deflating beneath you. “Fine. But, this better feel better than sex or I swear to god I will—” he jolted with a soft gasp as you suddenly pressed the heels of your oil lathered palms into the area just between his shoulder blades and pushed outwards, “sue.”

You smirked smugly to yourself at the breathlessness with which he completed his sentence, obviously not having expected the pressure to feel that amazing.

“Good?” You asked, voice tinged with arrogance.

“Uh-huh,” he admitted immediately, moaning throatily as you rolled your thumbs deeply against the base of his neck, “oh fuck that feels so good.”

You chuckled, skillfully working your fingers across the planes of his broad shoulders. He melted deeper into the mattress with every knot you deftly unwound, soft, relieved moans breaking from his open mouth. The smooth, lavender scented oil glistened captivatingly on his sun-kissed skin, the delicate aroma gently permeating through your bedroom. It was a lovely, soothing smell, subtle and unimposing. You spread it diligently across the smooth expanse of his upper back, before gradually beginning to work your way downwards.

His sounds of bliss lowered in pitch the lower your hands reached, dipping into silky tenor groans when your hands reached the delicate dip of his waist. But, as you moved to massage the area just above his hips, he suddenly jolted, spine arching, a strained curse rushing from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help the concern that sparked to life in your chest at his response. “Does it hurt?” You asked, easing up on the pressure but not removing your touch completely. Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded with a soft, hesitant hum, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “What happened?”

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I just… twisted it weirdly during practice, I guess.” He offered weakly, shivering as you poured a small puddle of oil in the small of his back.

“Did you take a break?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Baek,” your tone turned scolding as you gently worked your fingers into the tight dip of his waist, “just because you can fight through the pain doesn’t mean that you should. You’re not doing your body any favors by pushing it this hard.”

“I know but I—“ he sighed heavily, pressing his face into the sheets, “I just… don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

Oh, your poor, sweet Baekhyun. Always trying to please everyone else even when it ends up hurting him.

Pausing in your movements, you leaned forwards, bracing your hands on his shoulders so that you could speak in his ear. “Nobody is disappointed in you, Baek. You work so hard everyday to be the best you can be, and it shows. Everyone knows that you put your everything into what you do. And everyone’s proud of you,” you pressed your lips against the curve of his throat, slowly working your way up to the curve of his jaw, “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced back at you through his eyelashes. “Really?”

The question is so soft, so uncertain, and you feel your heart clench painfully in your chest at the thought that this man truly doesn’t understand just how many people adore him for just being… him. “Of course.”

You didn’t miss the rising of his cheeks, though he tried to hide himself beneath his arm, suddenly shy. You bit back a grin of your own, pressing one final kiss to the shell of his ear before returning to your earlier position and resuming the massage. He felt a dozen times more relaxed beneath you, the previous tension occupying his muscles having magically dissipated.

Sometimes, all he really needed was a little reassurance.

The smile that settled across your lips was unwavering as you took to kneading at the supple flesh of his hips, just above the top of his towel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of a thought. A mischievous, dangerous thought. A thought that had your attention lingering on where the towel was tucked and secured on his right hip. Glancing up at the back of his head, you allowed your fingers to trail discretely towards the damp, white fabric, toying with it lightly so that he wouldn’t notice — not even as it came undone.

It was only as you peeled it swiftly away from his body and Baekhyun felt the rush of cool air across his backside that he realized what had just occurred.

“H– Hey!” He yelped, swinging his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is a full body massage, Baek. It’s not a full body massage unless it’s full body.”

“My butt does not need massaging.”

You grinned, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you cocked a challenging brow. “I beg to differ.”

“Pervert.” He hissed.

You gasped, splaying a hand across your chest. “Who told you?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your antics, but put up little resistance as you nudged his hands away from his butt. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck turned a dark, lovely shade of pink, and he quickly buried his face in his arms. Taking that as his nonverbal cue to continue, you poured yourself some more of the lavender scented oil, overturning your palm to let it drizzle onto his cheeks. He flinched slightly, the sensation catching him off guard.

So cute. You bit into the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing at him, opting to set your hands upon the gentle curve of his ass and knead your fingers into the soft, toned flesh. Baekhyun stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow, eyes fluttering as his body responded to the soothing touch.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, tone teasing.

“Shut up.”

You snickered, massaging deep circles into the muscles of his upper thigh. He groaned deeply, fingers curling into the sheets. “Right there, right there— fuck, right there. It’s so sore.”

Heat flickered faintly in the pit of your stomach at the low rasping of his voice, grunted roughly through clenched teeth. Geez, why’d he have to sound so damn sexy…

Brushing off the thought as best you could, you forced yourself to focus on massaging the tension from his hamstrings. But each brush of your fingers over the insides of his thighs, intentional or otherwise, coaxed a round of violent shivers and breathless moans from your very much nude and very much oil covered boyfriend. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, jaw clenching as you squeezed your hands around the backs of his lower thighs.

The sounds he was making weren’t helping your… situation in the least.

“How are you so good at this?” He asked, somewhat airily as your hands glided upwards, to just below the curve of his ass before returning to the crook of his knee. The question snapped you out of whatever trance you’d put yourself in watching the way his slick, honeyed skin dipped and curved deliciously beneath the pressure of your touch.

“Re- research. Lots of research.” You cleared your throat, shifting downwards on the mattress to set to work on his calves.

“You’re hands are fucking magic.”

Warmth slipped into your cheeks at the praise, your heart picking up speed within your chest. He was making it difficult for you to focus.

“I told you you’d like it.” You hummed playfully, beginning the slow ascent back up the length of his naked body.

“You were right,” he conceded easily, sighing in bliss as your hands slid over the small of his back, “I love it. Feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

A content (and perhaps a bit smug) smile settled across your face. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. All you wanted was to make Baekhyun feel even just a little bit better after what you knew had to be a long, hard day— and you goddamn succeeded.

“Baek,” you murmured, and he gasped softly, not expecting your lips to be right next to his ear. He let out an unsteady hum, blinking hard twice when he felt your lace covered chest press against his back, “roll over for me?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. You lifted yourself off of him to give him just enough room to turn onto his back beneath you. All at once you were nose to nose, soft puffs of breath caressing your mouth. He was looking up at you with those eyes again, those hooded, wanting eyes, his hands clenching at the sheets somewhere down by his sides. You could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the desperation slowly seeping into his expression.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question was quiet, barely a whisper on his delicate pink lips. But the fire it ignited inside of you was anything but— loud, violent, and devastating, ripping your so well kept self control to shreds in a matter of moments.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding a slick hand down his toned stomach, “but I’m going to touch it first.”

He barely had time to react before your hand was around his cock. He gasped, back arching, forcing his chest flush against yours. Surprise flickered across your face upon feeling him already fully hard and throbbing against your palm. “Oh?”

“What?” He huffed out breathlessly, swinging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “did you expect me not to get hard while my sexy girlfriend wearing sexy lingerie rubs every inch of my body with oil?”

Pausing, you squinted down at him. “It was the butt massage, wasn’t it?”

He glared, and you grinned.

But any annoyance was wiped clean off his face as you squeezed your fingers around him, stroking his dick at a slow, borderline torturous pace. The remaining oil on your hand combined with his precum provided the perfect lubrication, the slide smooth and wet, the lewd sound of it making you clench around nothing. Baekhyun’s head rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. But, not for a moment did his gaze break from yours. You bit your lip harshly, a violent heat licking at your veins, the sheer intensity of his dark stare making your head feel dizzy.

“You look… so hot right now.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to feel even the least bit ashamed.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sultry smirk, an airy chuckle rumbling somewhere low in his chest.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Then kiss me.”

You did so without hesitation.

Baekhyun let out a heady groan, hands surging up from between your bodies to cradle your jaw as your lips worked against his with a hunger you hadn’t realized you possessed. It was uncoordinated and messy, all lashing tongue and vicious teeth, biting and sucking and licking until you were certain your that lips were raw. You were dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him, and he wasn’t in much of a better state. With his cock in your hand and your tongue in his mouth, it didn’t seem like he’d last much longer.

Beneath you, Baekhyun’s hips bucked and rolled, frenzied and desperate. Your hand stilled around him, allowing him the luxury of control as he fucked himself violently into your closed fist. Each moan that tumbled from his mouth into yours was louder than the last, and you relished in the unabashed displays of pleasure, taking an immense amount of pride in knowing that you were the cause of it.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped the warning, his nails biting harshly into your shoulder, “fuck— fuck, wait— I’m g-gonna come.”

“Baek,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss, “come for me. Please.”

His back arched, the furnace of his body overwhelmed but still trying feebly to fight back his oncoming high. Baekhyun didn’t like coming first. He’d always had the tendency of putting your pleasure above his own, making sure you came at least once (if not multiple times) before him. But tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him. And you were going to make sure he knew it.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking a dark bruise into his skin while simultaneously rolling your thumb over his sensitive tip in a way that had him trembling pathetically beneath you.

“Oh god— oh fuck— y/n—!” He came with a hoarse cry of your name, hips bucking, muscles tensing, skin shivering. You felt his hot release spilling over your knuckles, slipping between your fingers. He whimpered and squirmed as the overstimulation kicked in, but you didn’t stop stroking him until he started begging. “I can’t, I can’t— baby, please—” his chest heaved and his eyes went glassy, the dangerous cocktail of pleasure and pain making his head feel dizzy.

Looking down at him, so wrecked and fucked out, with those flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, you felt your heart flutter at the same time arousal coiled in your gut. He was just too damn pretty for his own good.

You relented, gently releasing his spent dick from your hold. He let out a shaky breath before tugging you into another mind numbing kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, feeling one of his hands coil around the back of your neck while the other explored the expanse of your back. It didn’t take long before they discovered the clasp of your bra, deftly unclasping it. Distracted by the skillful flicks of his tongue, you didn’t realize what he’d done until you felt the lacy fabric slip down your arms.

A giggle bubbled in your throat, and you whispered against his mouth, “naughty boy.”

His lips curled, and then all at once you found yourself sprawled on your back. “Naughty girl,” Baekhyun retaliated in a low, playful growl, pinning your hands to the mattress on either side of your head, “making me cum even after I told you to wait...”

His head dipped and you gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive part of your throat, one hand sliding down to grip at your naked breast. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as he circled your nipple with a rough thumb.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay you back for it…”

You weren’t about to object to that.

[reidyoulikeabook]

the battery was dead

Ship: GN! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mention of case-typical violence (more specifically, a bomb), told from Spencer's perspective and he experiences anxiety about reader having been harmed (they're okay though!), Spencer's self-deprecating thoughts, general mood of anxiety throughout, stressful team situation, big feelings of guilt, very much hurt/comfort.

Word count: 1.6k (i did not intend for this to be this long but it's basically a whole thing)

A/N: This is not what I intended to write today but my brain's on a whole hurt/comfort vibe apparently so here we are: something I wrote all in one go in about half an hour. Oops.

Everybody was in different places when the bomb went off. Spencer was with Derek, in an SUV headed uptown. The explosion was downtown. Where you'd been headed. Alone.

The geographical profile had indicated he wouldn't strike downtown. The geographical profile that he had made. The geographical profile that the team had trusted, that the team had based their assignments off, that had led Hotch to conclude it was safe to send you downtown alone.

"Garcia," Derek answers, putting her on loudspeaker and glancing at Spencer who could be pictured and pasted into the DSM-V as the definition of anxiety right now, "Garcia tell me you can patch everybody through."

"I'm trying," She rambles, her voice pitching upwards, "I'm patching ___ through now I'm trying their cell."

Spencer's leg bounces. It bounces so hard it's a miracle the velocity of it doesn't send Derek veering right across the road. He scratches at his neck. There are no words to be said. No words in any language in the world can describe the fear coursing through his body as he hears Garcia scramble, pressing keys and typing and he's only vaguely aware of Derek's hand coming to rest reassuringly on his bouncing knee, managing to still it just a little bit.

"___ will be fine," He reassures him, "Just fine. I promise. It's not your fault kid, you couldn't have known, how would you have known?"

"It's my job to know."

His tone is bitter, angry, and he feels even worse for it because it's not Derek's fault. Derek is trying to help. Derek is trying to be kind and somehow that's worse because he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anybody's kindness right now and he can't get your face out of his mind. How you'd smiled at him before walking out of the door of that precinct and how it might be the last time he ever got to see you smile and it was all his fault. All his fault.

His stomach is in knots. Garcia's practically smacking her precious equipment in her hurry and then the line goes mute.

"Garcia?" Derek asks again, "Garcia are you still there?"

There's a beat of silence and then the background noise returns, "I'm just trying ____'s cell."

What's taking so long? She could have tried by now. He's never known Garcia to be slow at her job and even though it feels like time has stopped. Fractured like a mirror, throwing off pieces, and he's trapped inside a piece that has all of the horror and guilt he's ever felt in his life staring him in the face. But she can work faster than that. Why isn't she working faster than that?

It all becomes clear as he hears her clack again. Then your voice floods the line.

"You've reached SSA ____ ____ of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Please leave a voicemail, or if you're calling regarding an urgent matter then please direct your calls to SSA Aaron Hotcher at the following number-"

"Maybe she's already on the phone," Derek suggests, cutting over your recital of his number, "Maybe her line's already busy. Right Garcia, is her line already busy?"

"I can't tell."

She's lying. Spencer knows she's lying and it knocks him sick. He practically wrenches the handle to the window off in his quest to get it open. The cold air pours in and he feels worse. He can't allow himself to bask in any feeling of comfort when you're God knows where.

He can't let himself think like that. He blinks hard, shaking his head as if he can physically remove the images from his brain. They flash through, his neurons defying him as they keep picturing you in worse and worse scenarios, and he can't breathe.

"Pull over," He directs Derek, wrenching off his seatbelt before Derek even manages to get the car in park.

Somewhere amidst all of it, Hotch has been patched through.

"We're convening downtown. Our presence has been requested at the crime scene."

Derek is saying something to pacify him. Or he's telling him something. He can't tell because his head is swimming and then Derek is squeezing his shoulder, physically pulling him back into reality.

"Kid. Listen to me. You're not helping anybody getting yourself all worked up like this. We need to focus. We've got to work this through."

He nods. He nods because Derek is right. They do have to work this through. Even though they would be better working this through without him because he's the one who made the profile that was wrong and his contributions clearly can't be trusted and-

"Put your seatbelt on. Talk to me. Let's talk through how it could have gone wrong."

Derek's voice strikes just the right balance between commanding and reassuring. It always does. So he does it. He clips in the seatbelt and starts to ramble, discussing avenues they haven't explored before, suggesting why he could have been wrong. He's never doubted himself like this before, and it's an uncomfortable feeling. What's more uncomfortable is the realisation he's never failed you like this before.

They pull up to the crime scene. Derek scrambles out of the car, but he pauses for a beat. It's only when Emily opens the door, that he's pulled back into reality again.

"Spencer," She says, "Spencer, come on."

There are SUV'S everywhere. They've tried to contain the scene as much as they could but they needed the bomb squad, needed paramedics, needed FBI.

She's walking him somewhere and he's frantically searching around him, frantically trying to orient himself. It doesn't help that it's dark, gone midnight by now, and the street lights were taken out in the initial explosion. Most of the lights come from torches, or headlamps that people are wearing. It's not enough, he can barely make out Emily let alone find your face in the crowd.

And then he hears it. His name. Your voice.

You found him.

"Spencer," You call, and he can't possibly turn around fast enough.

He barely has before you come crashing into his arms, cinching them tightly around him. He practically scoops you off of the ground, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he can possibly get you to his body, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo and there's tears coming out of his eyes, tears of relief and fear and-

"Spencer," You tell him, sniffling, "Spencer you're kind of crushing me."

You let out a little laugh, and he lets out one too. But it's puffy, practically just air. He releases his grip a bit and you lean up, your arms looping around his neck and playing with the baby hairs situated at the nape of it.

"Spence I'm okay, I'm right here," You reassure him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm right here."

You are right here. He can hear the pound of your heart, he can smell your perfume, he can feel you playing with his hair in a way that tickles but is so comforting, so domestic, so reassuring that you still love him despite his fuck up, that he couldn't bring himself to tell you to stop even if he wanted you to.

He doesn't even know he's still crying until he speaks, his voice wavering as it manoveurs past the lump in his throat, "I-Garcia tried calling you. You didn't answer your phone."

"The battery was dead," You tell him, "I plugged it in in the car and next thing I know I'm getting pulled over. I got brought straight here when I told them I was FBI and I tried to borrow somebody's phone to call but they cut off cell reception here in case there was a second bomb."

He swallows. He can't say anything else, can't do anything else. He manages to open his eyes, and you lean up, apparaising him. You thumb at the tears on his cheeks, a kind of softness and love entirely exclusive to you filling your eyes along with a couple of tears. You don't look at him like you're angry. You don't look at him like you're disappointed. You look at him with a kindness he's entirely undeserving of at this moment in time and the thought spurs two more tears out of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, "Spence what's wrong?"

"It was my fault," He chokes, his head dipping a bit, too ashamed to make eye contact, "I made the profile. I was wrong. I sent you here, I-I sent you directly into danger."

"It was a copycat," You tell him, "It was a copycat, he didn't get away in time and got caught up in the blast. Our guy is smarter than that, so they think this guy tried to imitate it. It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known, you can't profile a person you don't know exists."

The revelation is like foam on a petrol fire. It quells the pain in his chest, the one that had maliciously licked at him, igniting all his own wounds and insecurities.

It wasn't his fault.

He holds onto you even tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "Thank you. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being okay."

"I'm always okay," You tell him, your voice nothing but sincere, "I'm always okay because I always have you."

With that, the fire is out. You reluctantly wiggle out of his arms, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He's not okay yet. Not entirely. It all still feels surreal, and he knows it'll take a long time for his heart to settle down. But you're here. By his side. And that's enough for now.

In fact, with you? That's enough for always.

-

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[bigilante]

— 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 ❣ 𝕙.𝕠

⌜mature content • minors do not interact⌟

「 contents: mature language + handjob ━━━━━ word count: 2.4k 」

: a.n : hiya! it's been long since i last posted something but here i am! this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo writing challenge. be gentle with me please, i'm really awkward writing in second person but i really wanted to make this gender-neutral.

: prompt : Harrison injures his right hand. He’s sexually frustrated, and his left hand just isn’t doing the job. Reader notices something is up with her poor roommate, and asks if there’s anything she can do to help. Even though they haven’t been anything more than friends up to this point, reader offers to “give him a hand,” or whatever of her other body parts he likes.

For two weeks Harrison had had his right hand clasped in a splint from taking a rather nasty fall from his skateboard. The night he had come home from the park with his jeans ripped on the knees and his hand clutched to his chest you hadn’t wasted a second to start taking the piss out of him at the clear picture of him eating shit at the skatepark but when he let out a pained groan after trying to take his jacket off your laughter died down and worry settled on the pit of your stomach.

His hand turned out to be badly sprained and well, the next couple of weeks had been spent in him trying to navigate his days with his non-dominant hand and with the initial panic of your roommate hurting himself gone you resumed the lighthearted piss-taking. Although he laughed with you at the jokes you made you could see how it really bugged him that he wasn’t as useful and agile with his right hand being in mandatory rest. “Told you, H. Whatever you have trouble with I can give you a hand.” You reminded him waving both your hands in front of you in a somewhat mocking manner.

“Yeah, heard you the first time.” He grumbled while struggling to button up his dress shirt. “Damn it.” The blonde cursed under his breath when his fingers seemed to not be working properly. That was enough for you to put your cup of tea down on the breakfast bar to walk up to him taking over the task he was growing frustrated with. He sighed defeated, letting his hands drop to his sides allowing you to close his shirt for him.

“Really, Harrison. I don’t mind helping you out.” The reassurance prompted Harrison to nod in understanding, running his fingers through his hair clearly irked by his situation. As if after you repeating it ninety-nine times before hadn’t sunk into his brain until the hundredth. “There you go, all done.” You patted his chest a couple of times then stepped back away from him to grab your mug again watching him leave the flat in a hurry after thanking you. You had been joking about what happened to him but you really felt bad for him, Harrison was a very active and independent guy who rarely asked for help and now that he was close to useless at doing simple tasks you could see how much it troubled him.

In the evening when he returned home he headed directly to the bathroom barely uttering a greeting back when you welcomed him, the sound of the running water splashing around let you know he was running a bath, you sighed at the fact that he had beaten you to run one for yourself though you were still busy making dinner for the both of you you didn’t duel much on it. About thirty minutes had passed since he went in for his bath and you figured it’ll be enough time for him to be about done with it to come out and eat, hence you walking up to the end of the hallway to knock on the door to make him aware that the food was ready.

However, the noise of water splashing a bit too aggressively accompanied by Harrison’s angry cursing made you believe something was wrong. With not much time to think you tried for the door and found it unlocked, swinging it open swiftly. “Are you okay!?” You asked in a panic, eyes wide when you saw the walls dripping and the floor flooded with soapy water. “Are you hurt?” You insisted, daring to step inside the room, bare feet coming in contact with the wet ground making comical splashing sounds.

“Yeah-no. I just…” He frantically tried to gather the few bubbles that floated on the scarcely-filled tub, bringing them closer to his body to cover himself a little.

“You just what, H?” Your voice still held concern and he noticed, finally looking up at you with seemingly pleading eyes. “You need help with your back or what is it?”

“No, y/n.” He huffed, brushing his wet hair back with his splinted hand wincing a little with the action. “This time you really can’t help me, alright? Just, let me get dressed.”

“Harrison, I told you I don’t mind help—” You started but was soon cut by the blonde’s voice rising above his usual level.

“I need a wank! That’s what I need. And my fucking left hand ain’t cutting it anymore.” Harrison blurted out a bit worked up, breathing heavily with cheeks burning hot showing in a bright crimson colour that stood out against his milky skin. Your mouth closed immediately after he acknowledged his problem, a warmth crept up your neck settling comfortably on the apples of your cheeks as your fingers toyed aimlessly with the hem of your oversized bed t-shirt. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he had thrown his head back on the edge of the tub and covered his eyes with his injured hand while the other was under the water.

The way the muscles of his arm were flexed made the heat of your cheeks travelled to new places that could be labelled as inappropriate. Boldly, you stepped further into the room your steps marked by the sloppy meeting of them with the soaked tiles, not knowing exactly how you conjured the confidence to do so. “I-I don’t mind... helping,” You stuttered out, stopping right by his side. Wide eyes hanging on the young man’s hidden face that was instantly revealed as soon as those words left your lips.

“What!? Don’t be silly, y/n. I could never ask you to do that.” He sat up, making starts to get up but you stopped him by placing a hand on his bare shoulder keeping him inside the tub.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” You gave him a sincere smile, irises dancing between his crystal clear ones as you waited for him to accept or decline your proposal. Harrison’s teeth clenched as he swallowed thickly making his jawline look even sharper. When he delayed in giving you an answer you felt as if you had overstepped his boundaries and panic began to invade you fast.

“Okay.” He agreed with a nearly imperceptible wobble in his voice. “But don’t look at it. It’ll make me feel less guilty if you don’t know what it looks like.” The chuckle he let out was nervous and awkward, causing you to match it with one of your own as you nodded your head.

“Okay, I won’t look.” You declared, pressing your lips together before sinking to your knees right beside the bathtub sitting comfortably on your folded legs. Taking in a deep breath you reached for his left forearm with your right hand, eyes focused on the edge of the porcelain trying your best not to look down as you let your hand trail down his arm ultimately meeting his own hand under the lukewarm water. “Let go.” In a soft voice, you requested. Harrison exhaled through his nose prompting you to shift your gaze from the tub to his face, sending him a reassuring nod and a faint smile, those sufficient for him let you hold him inhaling a tad sharply when you did.

With your hand now wrapped around his girth, you started to give him slow and long rubs with a fairly firm grip. Since your eyes were still on him you saw him sigh, momentarily closing his eyes with the first few strokes, his lips pressed together as he breathed through each caress you provided. It was hypnotising seeing him in that way: head thrown back, eyes closed, flushed face, brows pinched together; adding to all of that he was completely naked and splattered with water droplets. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips, swallowing thickly at the scene in front of you, subconsciously your grasp on the man’s erection tightened enough to make him let out an involuntary moan that echoed throughout the tiled room, travelling through your ears and finding a new home deep inside your brain.

Again, —you thought— do it again. You now craved his pleasure noises, with a new goal you lifted yourself from your sitting position back into your knees so you could move your arm at a faster pace, wrist twisting every now and again succeeding at drawing more moans out of your roommate. A whimper left your throat when your arm started to grow tired from the motion and the pressure of the ceramic edge underneath it prompting Harrison’s eyes to shoot open and you swore you felt him twitch against your palm. “S-sorry, my arm got sore.” You let out an embarrassed laugh when your eyes met his, your whole face burning hot.

The aching of your arm combined itself with the soreness of your knees forcing you to stand up and let go of Harrison in the process, with little time to think twice you swung your leg over the edge of the bathtub soon followed by the other before you found a comfortable new position straddling the blonde’s bare thighs. The weight of you coming into the water raised the level of it, permitting it to soak the bottom half of your top, Harrison’s eyes never left your figure as you moved that much closer to him, his stomach was a little sucked in as if he was holding in his breath. “Is this okay?” You quizzed, noting that you sitting on him might be too much.

“Ye-yeah.” He breathed out in a hurry. You proceeded to resume your ministrations now with a better angle and an additional hand to give your right one a minute of rest. The movement of the water around you both and Harrison’s heavy breathing was the only things that could be heard in the bathroom of your quiet flat. The view was intoxicating; chiselled chest heaving, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, jaw slacked, pink lips parted and eyes screw shut. You found it next to impossible to reap your gaze from the guy in front of you, the way he was reacting to your touch was rapidly becoming your favourite thing and you wanted more of him, your thighs tightened over his when he let out a particularly loud moan and you had to blink a few times to try and restore your morality without much success.

“Are you close?” Your voice filled the air around you, it surprised both of you for you didn’t know you had it in you to ask such a question when you were trying to keep your composure in front of the man. Harrison’s eyes were half-opened and on you the second you asked, the intensity of them draw you in closer and closer to his face until your forehead was pressed against his tentatively. Soon his healthy hand was back under the water only this time it landed on your bare thigh gripping it tightly, the simple touch causing your breath to match his ragged one, mixing together from the close proximity of your faces.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” Harrison ordered with a deep groan as his body began to tense up underneath you. You took the cue and doubled your efforts with both your hands subconsciously whispering encouragements eliciting louder moans from him. His poorly hand came up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place —as if you really had the intention to move away— while his high very evidently approached. “Fuck, y/n.” The blue-eyed boy moaned in your face luring a whine out of your throat at the sound of your name being called in such a way.

“Cum for me,” You encouraged him, nudging his nose with yours silently prompting him to look at you, and he did. Hooded eyes fixed on yours mere centimetres away that you could feel his lips ghosting over your own teasingly, warm breath fanning over them. “Harri, c’mon.” A whisper was all you could manage at that moment. Your own throat had grown dry and you had to suppress the mewls that threatened to leave your chest when you started to feel his cock twitching in your hands. A loud grunt got stuck in the man’s throat the moment he toppled over the edge, his length spasming in your grip as you so clearly sensed it unload under the now cool water, the temperature of the liquids contrasting against your skin when his seed landed on your hands as it sank.

Harrison’s body shuddered with each slow stroke you gave him to help him ride his orgasm, moans continued to fall from his parted lips. He swallowed, finally releasing your neck from the clasp to be able to relax back in the tub letting out a long and deep sigh of content. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed the moment he pulled away but it was for the best, you couldn’t be wishing for him to do something for you when you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

That was when it hit you, the position you were in wasn’t appropriate at all, it didn’t matter how willing you were to be his second self surely giving him manual relief was a step too far. So with overwhelming shame, you let go of him, leaning to the side to take hold of the edge of the tub, pulling yourself up to your feet in a daze. The water that dripped down from your soaked t-shirt far too noisy in your ears as they buzzed with the adrenaline that still coursed through your body, the wet fabric sticking to your skin making you self-aware that it was now see-through so you hurried to the railing stuck to the wall and grabbed one of the towels, quickly wrapping it around your waist.

Embarrassed, you started for the door, holding the doorknob ready to leave the room, “Di-dinner’s ready.” You acknowledged shyly, the tremble in your voice giving your remorse away. You frantically shuffled on your feet stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you. There was a weird feeling in the pits of your stomach, you knew you felt embarrassed of what had just happened yet, that wasn’t it, it was almost like a craving. A craving for his touch and that made the shame feel ten times worse. You marched to your room locking yourself in, forgetting about your dinner plate that was sitting on the kitchen counter, your hunger long gone. Though, despite the mortification, there was a new much problematic sort of appetite tingling deep inside you and the throbbing between your legs made it much too hard to ignore.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this piece ♡ 】

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment

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

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: On to part three. Sorry for being a human disaster.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Or it will move right through me

💀💀💀

Jerome annoyed you as he picked through your tool box and clicked the ratchet noisily. He was excited but impatient and complained that you were taking so long. You told him if he wanted to pay out of pocket for labour, you could finish faster. 

You sat by his bike, parts strewn at your feet, and bent your head to look under the tank. You still had a lot to go and hadn’t yet added anymore of the gross chrome to the frame.

“Do you realise how filthy this is gonna get?” you huffed as you sat up and leaned your elbows on your legs, “not to mention how ridiculous it looks.”

“I like it. It’s just my style,” your brother grinned, “I don’t remember you spending this much time on Bucky’s ride and you and him--”

“He had me replace the tailpipe, you want nothing short of a rebuild,” you scoffed, “and you’re not the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, “guess it could be worse though. It could be Steve.”

“Thank god it’s not,” you chuckled, “I don’t know how many women had to toss beer in his face before he latched onto that mousy one at the bakery.”

“She’s nice,” Jerome shrugged, “far as I know. She doesn’t talk to anyone but Steve.”

“I wonder why,” you tisked, “he has insecurity written across his forehead.”

The tinny bell rang and the door whooshed open as the wind caught it. Jerome glanced over and dropped the ratchet noisily into the drawer of the tool box. You growled in warning as you spent much of your spare cash on those. He apologised quietly as he squared his shoulders at the man who appeared.

“Hey,” Bucky wiped the flakes from his hair and blew out a shiver.

“Bucky,” Jerome said rigidly.

The other man nodded and stepped further inside the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly around the concrete floor. You watched him as you fiddled with the bolt in your hand.

“You wanna head down to the bar?” It wasn’t a question as Bucky came to face you, “I gotta talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jerome replied sharply, “you got it, boss.”

Bucky grumbled and waited for him to leave. He sniffed and kicked his toe into the floor.

“So… what’re you doing here? Been a while so must be urgent,” you sat up on the rolling stool and stretched your back.

“The whole town’s talking about it. You fighting him,” his brows drew together, “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You didn’t,” you said evenly, “so I did.”

“I talked to him--”

“And said what?” you snorted.

“Look, you don’t understand. You said it yourself, you don’t care about my business. You don’t get what’s going on but what I need from him is bigger than your temper.”

“Excuse me? This is my fault? He broke into my shop, he followed me from that diner and he put his hands on me,” you stood and tossed the bolt away, “what do you want me to do, Buck?”

“First, I want you to remind yourself who I am. We’re not fucking anymore so that mouth isn’t as cute,” he warned, “and I want you to play nice.”

“All you have to do is keep him away from me. How hard is that for a man like you, huh? You’re the big dog.”

“Watch it,” he pointed at you, “I won’t tell you again.”

“He’s here to deal with you, not me,” you insisted, “he grabbed me, I defended myself, and I’ll do it again.”

“This isn’t grade school anymore, you can’t fight the boys,” he sighed.

“What are you saying?”

He was silent as his jaw ticked and his blue eyes strayed to the ceiling. You stepped closer and gripped your hips as you stared him down.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you. Nothing else I will do. He’s your problem.”

He met your glare and you scoffed in disgust, “you’re fucking serious? What do these idiots have on you?”

“It’s not what they have on me, it’s what I want from them. I’m planning for something bigger than Birch, that means there’s gonna be some sacrifices,” he shrugged.

“Sacrifices? Is that what you call it? Well, here’s one for you, the next time you get a little scuff on your tank or your headlight starts to flicker, you can head down to Carl’s,” you scowled.

“Don’t do this,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I can get business without you. I do better work than Carl, you know that. So go, I’ll deal with that asshole on my own, how I see fit.”

He inhaled and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and thought. 

“Damn it,” he swore, “you can’t make anything fucking easy. What is it with you women and your god damn--” he lifted his hand and stopped himself, “you get in the way of my business, and you won’t be so worried about Loki.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what he said about you,” you mocked, “what’s with you men and your egos?”

His lip curled and he breathed through his teeth. His eyes lit up and he punched his palm as he turned away quickly.

“I hope he has his fun with you. Maybe he can fuck some sense into you,” Bucky growled, “God knows I tried.”

“You weren’t that good,” you snipped.

He kicked the shelf of wipers hung near the front of the shop and grunted. He stormed to the doorway and stopped to look back at you.

“You’ll be wishing it was me…” he hissed.

He waved you off and continued through the front door, slamming it behind him loudly. You stared at the scattered packages of wipers and bit down on your tongue. You wanted to run out and strangle that idiot but you knew how he could be. It was the reason you broke off your little fling; he was too much like you. Hard-headed and volatile.

💀

You weren’t going to change just because the town was overrun by asshole men. You were standing your ground and that meant you were going to finish your club sandwich and enjoy one lunch without interruption. 

The café was busier that day as the snowfall dwindled and the streets were mostly cleared as the plows made their regular rounds. You looked through the window as the school kids stopped by the bakery for hot drinks on their lunch and circled the rim of your mug with your fingertip. You sensed it was only the lull before the storm.

Further down you could see the corner of The Asp and heard a rumbling engine. Your shop remained empty except for Jerome’s bike. Since Bucky’s visit, you were too worked up to concentrate anyway. You wanted to take your wrench and knock every man in town in the head with it.

Nora brought your sandwich as Kimmie didn’t work on the weekends and your side of soup. You would eat both and leave satisfied. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin your day off. Well, not that you had very much to do aside from that.

You dipped your crusts in the tomato soup and stared at the seat across from you. Empty. Perfect.

You scooped the last of the bowl into your mouth and wiped your lips with the napkin. You stood and gulped up your coffee. You left money on the table and headed out. A peaceful, solitary lunch all to yourself.

You skipped the shop and continued down the street. You pushed into the hobby shop you rarely ventured into, more a bookshop if you were honest. You greeted the man at the counter with a smile. When you were a girl, you remembered he ordered you a special set of paints as the ones in his store were all dried up. Lu, you recalled his name.

You went to the shelves of models and looked over the new arrivals. You took the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am off the shelf and smirked. Your father had one just like it when you were a kid. It wasn’t exactly new. You grabbed a bottle of black paint with it, always running low on the stuff, and headed for the counter.

Lu punched the buttons on his till and you heard a creak. Light footsteps emerged from the basement of used books as you opened your wallet.

“I didn’t take you as bookish,” Loki’s voice made you cringe.

You didn’t answer and counted out the bills for your purchase, “actually, you got any glue? I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

“Hmm, oh,” Lu turned and bent to reach into a box, “haven’t stocked up but these came in just before the storm.”

He added the orange and white tube to your bag and you added another bill. He counted out your change and handed it to you.

“Quite interesting what small towns can hide,” Loki didn’t wait to step up to counter and stood close, his sleeve against yours, “An antique edition of Whitman. One of the only Americans I read.”

You looked down at the worn tome, the edges fraying and the letters faded. It was marked up to a couple hundred. You could appreciate a love for reading but you weren’t entirely sure some old paper was worth all that.

“I’ll need the reading material as my visit has been prolonged,” he mused as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, “my brother is due to return so I will stay in his place… get to know the town of Birch more intimately.”

You hid your disgust at his words and continued out the door. His exaggerated tones stuck in your head as you passed the window and absently swung your bag. You hated him. You really did. You should have bashed him over the head with that dumb book. 

You thought of that day in the snow and smiled. You knew that shame lingered in him. You would have no problem repeating that scene.

You came up to your shop and stopped short. The burly redhead who arrived with the pestilent man stood at your door, peering in through the window, angling his head as he tried to see around the blinds. You cleared your throat as you neared.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked dully.

“Oh, ah,” he turned and laughed at himself, “I thought… Loki, I thought he’d be here.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” you said, “he’s down at the book shop.”

“Thanks. He apologise?” He prodded.

“You seem to know him well. You think he did?” you challenged.

“Ah, nah,” he smiled awkwardly, “s’pose he didn’t.”

“S’pose he didn’t,” you echoed, “it would be smart if you kept him away from here.”

“Yeah, uh, should do,” he sidled past you and you listened to his heavy boots clump along the beaten snow.

You took out your key and unlocked the door. You closed it quickly behind you, that man’s presence set you on edge. He hadn’t shown any of the venom of his associate but he was loyal to him. You double checked the locks on all the doors and made certain all windows were closed. 

You went up stairs into your apartment and stripped off your coat and boots. You sat at the small table where you ate those dinners you didn’t forget and unpacked your new model. You sorted the pieces and spread out the instructions. The image of the car on the box brought back nostalgic memories. You wouldn’t know all you did about bikes if it wasn’t for your dad. You missed him every day for the last… too many years.

You lost yourself in the tiny parts. You hunched over the table and carefully dabbed glue onto the plastic. Your eyes began to itch as the windows dimmed and you got up to turn on the lamp. You kept building well after dark and finally left the half-finished car on the table.

You stretched out your limbs as you stripped down to only your loose tee and yawned. You fell into bed and turned on the old tube television. You hit play on the VCR and the loud previews blared from the boxy speakers. You rolled yourself in your comforter and sat through the same movie trailers you’d watched a dozen times.

You were never a romantic but you the movie was another shadow of your childhood. Your grandma used to watch Kathleen Turner whenever you went to her place. She would serve you yogurt and berries and turn on the cheesy action flick and if you slept over, she would put in the sequel right after.

Your rituals kept you sane. You found it was easier to know what to expect and given your temper, it was better not to be surprised. You were always the trouble child and you regretted all those times your dad had to come talk to the principal or walk you home from school. You promised him you would be better.

Still you didn’t regret what you did. He always told you to stand up for yourself. Hell, he taught you how to throw a punch and all your best insults were inherited from him. You smiled as you thought of him and hugged your pillow as the intro played and the credits flicked up one name at a time.

You drifted off in the glow of the television and the sound effects sank into your dreams. You were still in Birch but thick vines had grown around all the buildings and billowing leaves shrouded the skies. The town had turned to jungle and you could hear the growls and grunts of beasts unseen.

You spun as a twig snapped and a snake uncoiled from a branch and fell into the brush at your feet. You stepped back and it slithered towards you. You stumbled and ran away as you could hear its skin smoothly glide through the grass at your feet. You tripped as its long body wrapped around your ankles and you crashed to the ground.

You struggled as the snake constricted your body and wound its neck around to face you. Its green eyes shone as its black scales gleamed. Its tongue flicked against your cheek and you felt its hot breath as it opened its mouth and revealed long, frightening fangs. You screamed as its bite loomed and you woke with a start.

The visions of the wild jungle faded but the heat did not. You blinked as an amber haze took over the room and you fought through your messy blankets and tumbled onto the floor. Your curtains were alight along with much of the wall. You bachelor was blazing with orange flames and you could barely see the door through the smoke.

You coughed and scrambled to your feet. Your eyes streamed and you blindly ran for the door and flew down the stairs. The shop was almost entirely engulfed as you reached the lower landing and you fumbled with the front door as flames licked closer and closer.

You burst out into the frozen night and your feet were numbed by the ice and snow. You retreated from the burning building, your life set aflame, and turned back as you reached the sidewalk. Sirens screamed and made you wince as you crossed your arms and chattered against the cold.

“Pity,” the slither made your skin crawl, “though I suppose it is a blessing you at least saved yourself.”

You glanced at Loki as your vision blurred with the tears of realisation. Everything you had was turning to ash before you. You blinked away the droplet and sneered at him. He smirked and you knew. He smirked and he knew. It wasn’t an accident.

[cyborg-franky]

Hii! Hope you're feeling better! Could you do a request for zoro or sanji with the prompt “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.” Maybe something where the s/o nearly sacrifices themselves for them but survives the encounter? Maybe angst with fluff at the end?

I am much better thank you bean. I have just been using a random number generator and it decided today if your day! I hope you enjoy <3

Sanji x GN Reader Angst/Fluff SFW TW: Mild gore/violence Word Count: 711

Sanjis’ eyes opened wide as he turned just in time to see the enemy use their devil fruit ability on him, scarp metal and rocks the size of a fist, red hot and glowing shot out of the other mans hands, it had been a sneak attack, one he was kicking himself for not seeing sooner.

He braced himself for the impact, shielding his face with his arms, wincing at an impact that never came. He heard you cry out, the hot shrapnel inbreeding into your skin, another wave of junk covered in fire came your way, further hitting into your back, sticking out sharply. “Fuck! Someone get this asshole!” Sanji yelled, looking around desperately for his crew, everyone fighting their own fight.

You cried out as you almost hit the floor, Sanji slid across the hard floor, putting himself between you and the ground. Zoro soon realized what was going on and came to your aid, dealing with the enemy while Sanji carried you bridal style away from the scene, he laid you down behind large rocks, making sure Zoro could handle himself.

“Fuck, why did you do that?” He barked at you, worried expression as he winced seeing deeper pieces of metal sticking out your arms, blood running down your skin, pooling on the floor.

“I didn’t want him to hurt you, I… I just didn’t think” You admitted, leaning forward, wanting to be closer to him, hand gripping his shirt as you felt woozy.

“I’ll find Chopper, wait here” He tried to set you as gently against the rocks as he could, mindful of the bits piercing your skin.

“No, don’t leave!” you yelped and held so tightly to him, he stared at you with a wide worried eye, teeth grit as you tried to adjust yourself. “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.” You let out a soft sob, the pain was nothing compared to the fear of possibly losing him, what if he left and didn’t come back in time? You wanted your last moments to be with him.

Sanji understood, could read what was unspoken and he pulled you against him, arms around your body, wincing when you yelped at each little pain. You cuddled to Sanji, trying to inhale his scent, wanting to remember it forever, let it be the last thing you ever smelt, his voice the last thing you ever heard..

You both heard the tell tale plodding of a certain reindeer doctors’ feet against the stones as Chopper bounced from each ledge landing next to you. He used his devil fruit and grew large, effortlessly picking you up. “Wounds aren’t fatal, but we need to get them some more blood soon!” Chopped turned to Sanji who nodded.

They both ran towards the ship, the others covering for you, Sanji kicking anything that headed your way, feeling better when you recognized the safety of the Going Merry. Chopper’s room, he laid you down and started work, getting a syringe and injecting the sharp tip into your arm. You faded away, the edges of your vision blurring, Sanji stood over you, his voice fading as you blacked out.

--

Your eyes fluttered open, body screaming in aches and pains where you’d had nasty pieces of metal and rocks thrust into your body at such a force. You whined, trying to sit up but felt strong hands push you to say down “S...Sanji?”

“Hey, glad to see you with us” He kissed your forehead, you noticed one of your hands laid limp in his own. He held your hand the entire time you were out. “Chopper says you’ll have a lot of nasty scars for the rest of your life but… nothing got damaged inside so you’ll recover in no time” He explained, you nodded along with the blond.

You looked at your arm, a red tube running from it, over some other contraptions before you noticed the end was connected to the chef, you blinked, eyebrow raised at him. He followed your line of vision and chuckled softly. “We were a match, that’s some real red sting of fate shit huh?” You nodded, smiling before settling back against the pillows.

“Get some rest, I’m not going anywhere.”

[sarah-bae-maas]

Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 1

In honour of this blog turning five years old, I thought I would treat you all to a two part/chapter Gwynriel fic that has been wandering around in my brain throughout countless days of lockdown and tortuous university classes. 

I’m already well underway with part 2 of this fic, but I do have some assignments coming up, so expect it within the fortnight! 

So please do enjoy this nearly 15k words worth of Gwynriel goodness <3

Masterlist Ao3

_____________

She was staring at him.

Again.

Azriel had always paid special attention to Gwyn – not that he would tell her that, of course. It was a secret held deep in his shadows that she was his favourite Valkyrie, the one he thought the most brave and resilient. It would not be an unpopular opinion if he did share it, the other women looked at her with great admiration, and Nesta often sung her praises when the female wasn’t there to refute her words. But Azriel knew the presumptions people might make if they knew he thought it, and the last thing he wanted was for a misunderstanding to make Gwyn uncomfortable.

Gwyn was holding a bag for Emerie to kick, her stance strong enough that she didn’t flinch at all with each pummel. Her focus should have been on Emerie’s form, but rather her teal eyes were glued to him. Every time Azriel looked over at her, she quickly shifted her gaze to her friend, but his shadows constantly reminded him that Gwyn was once again paying her attention to him.

Cassian called the end of the session. Azriel was grateful, he was finding it harder and harder to train the women effectively when he knew Gwyn was right there.

He practically fled the scene, his cheeks brushed with red, barely nodding to the women who said their thanks to him as he passed. It’s not that he didn’t like her attention, but it made his stomach feel heavy, his hands shake, and he didn’t like how out of control he felt whenever she looked at him like that.

He settled in the dining room. Standing, he braced his hands on the table, a bead of sweat dripping off his forehead and tarnishing the wood. Nesta wouldn’t like if he got his sweat all over the table, even though her and Cassian had coated it in far more scandalous bodily fluids. He should do something productive, like work or eat or pester Rhys and Feyre to have Nyx for the afternoon, but instead he chose to close his eyes and picture the person who’d been haunting him.

He and Gwyn were friends. She was over nearly every night to eat with Nesta, their dinners a sort of lively Azriel hadn’t experienced since he’d lived in Illyria with Rhys and Cas. It was joyful to live in a space filled with such light, but also overwhelming. Azriel found that as much as he loved the time with the rag-tag team they’d made for themselves, his social timer still clicked in his mind as a constant reminder that sometimes dealing with people, even the ones you loved, could be utterly exhausting.

Not with Gwyn though, his shadows lamented, setting him straight. No, Azriel never felt tired with her.

“Az?”

As though his thoughts alone had summoned her, Gwyn’s voice startled him out of his reverie. He turned, his lips parting slightly at the sight of her.

She was still in her training gear – a shirt and pants lovingly stitched by Emerie with embroidered flowers decorating the seams – her neat braid falling around her face, framing her pearlescent skin in fire.

“Gwyneth. Do you need something?”

Her eyes were wide, her hands clasped in front of her as she wrung her fingers. It made Azriel tilt his head in confusion, not understanding why she was so nervous. They spoke every day, she mouthed off at him often, and her shift in confidence had him surprised.

“I have a proposition for you, but you must promise to not tell a soul.”

Azriel raised a brow, leaning back into the table. He spread his hands before him. “I’m listening.”

Gwyn swallowed, her cheeks turning the same shade of red as her hair.

“Imsturbalt,” she squeaked.

“What?”

“I masturbate a lot!” She smacked her hands over her mouth, as if betrayed at the words they spilled.

Azriel’s jaw went slack, his eyes near bugging from his skull. “Okay… that’s good? Self-exploration!” He half-heartedly waved a celebratory fist in the air, not sure what to say to her statement.

She groaned louder than a stabbing victim. “I was thinking that, I didn’t intend to say it aloud.” She rubbed her hands over her face, peeking at him through her fingers. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secrets are safer with me than they are anyone else.” Azriel smiled, trying to diffuse the obvious tension in her body. “So, your proposition?”

She tensed her jaw, moving her arms behind and looking at the ground as she spoke. “I guess my previous statement that will never be mentioned again to anyone if you like having the functional use of your organsperhaps wasn’t entirely irrelevant to what I’m going to ask you. But I beg, please let me finish before you say anything, and also don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

“Okay.”

“Silence.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She grinned at him, her eyes finally meeting his again. “As you know, better than anyone really, I have a difficult past.”

Azriel wished he could burn the images of finding her on that table from his mind. He’d had to actively teach himself not to envision her crying and screaming for her sister when she’d first became a permanent fixture in House of Wind. He’s seen many horrific things in his time, was no stranger to the worst humanity had to offer, but it was different when it was someone so vulnerable, so selfless, so important to him. It might have made him a bad person that he didn’t equate people’s trauma accordingly, but how could he possibly care for a stranger as much as he cared for Gwyn?

“What happened to me made me fear my body. Fear the sexuality I see women like Nesta and Mor own. They’re so powerful, and the things that have happened to them… They’re not broken. They’re not less. They’re not afraid.” She paused, sighing deeply. “I would never look upon anyone in the library as lesser than because of the things that have happened to them. It wasn’t until I met Nesta and Emerie that I realised I didn’t give myself the same grace. I want to own the parts of me that were stolen. I want to feel like my body belongs to me. I didn’t even know where to begin, but then the House gave me this book, some fluffy romance novel, and the girl in it was just like me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just felt so seen. Like the Mother herself had handed this smut piece into my lap to make me feel better.”

Gwyn moved to one of the lounge chairs that Cassian had haphazardly shoved into a corner one night when Nesta didn’t feel like moving from the dining room. Gwyn was effortlessly graceful as she sat and curled her legs up, her head resting on her fist.

“That’s where the masturbating comes in.” Her eyes avoided his again, focusing on patterns her fingers drew in the velvet material of the chair. “The girl in the book did it. She’d never had an orgasm either. So, I did too.” She laughed quietly. “It made me feel good. Not just the physical pleasure part, but the part where it was just me, empowering myself at a pace I was comfortable with.”

Azriel wished he could say something, but one, he knew to be silent and let her have this moment, and two, he didn’t know how to tell someone he was proud of them for touching themselves without it sounding weird. He was proud though, extremely so, at how strong she felt from acting on her wants. Her resilience had always astounded him.

“In the book, the girl meets this man.” Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper. “He treats her so kindly, in a way that I’ve seen Cassian treat Nesta a million times, in a way I yearn to be treated. I’ve given myself a clean slate. This body, my body, has only been touched by me. I am whole. I was never broken, just healing. And I’m at a stage where I want more. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Azriel wished her could say yes, please the eager note in her voice that hoped he was on the same page as her, but even his shadows were silent to her desires.

She glanced at him just long enough to see him shake his head. She tipped her head back. “When Nesta first started sleeping with Cassian, I was so curious. What were they doing? What was he doing to make her look so satisfied? But when I tried to picture it, my stomach would churn. And then time passed. I grew stronger. I became a Valkyrie. And like many others before me and many more in the centuries to come, I walked in on Cassian and Nesta fucking.”

Azriel inhaled sharply. To hear the vulgarity fucking from a mouth so pure sent a bolt through him, and he chided himself for his inappropriate thoughts during such a serious conversation.

“They don’t know I saw, not that I think they would have minded. I would bet good money that if I asked for a demonstration on pleasurable acts Cassian and Nesta would be more than happy to comply. Where I might have once felt sick from seeing them, instead I felt-”

She cut herself off, looking for the right words.

“I felt burning desire. I’ve never been so envious of someone in my life. I didn’t want to have sex with Cassian, but by the Cauldron I wanted to feel the way that Nesta did. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t know you were such a good secret keeper. Or such a good friend.”

Azriel couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Gwyn, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to have sex with me.”

***

Azriel stared at his ceiling, his shadows dancing and rolling around him.

I want you to have sex with me.

He tested the words on his own lips. They tasted sweet. They also brought an uncomfortable amount of pressure to his cock. He refused to touch it though and kept both his hands firmly behind his head.

He’d told Gwyn he needed to think about it, and she understood. She said she didn’t expect an answer from him straight away.

Azriel had a lot to consider.

He was practically titillated that when Gwyn had decided she wanted to explore herself with a male, it was him who she thought of. She expressed that it was because she knew he’d care for her, that he’d respect her and because of how much she trusted him. There were not words to express how hearing such things felt to him. It made him want to do this for her, because his soul be damned he knew he would do right by her. Make her feel good, feel special, feel appreciated.

It would be amiss though not to acknowledge that if he did do this, let her warm his bed while he tasted her, it could ruin not just the friendship they had established but also the dynamic of the house. She had assured him that if his answer was no, they would continue their lives as if the conversation never happened.

Which brought a darker thought to his mind.

If not Azriel, then who? She would surely approach someone else. Someone not deserving of her, who might not treat her how she deserved to be treated. That was not to say Azriel thought that in all his bastardly ways he was what Gwyn should have – no, she deserved more than he could ever give – but at least he knew that she would be safe with him.

The thought of another male’s hands on her made him see red.

That was answer enough.

***

Nesta and Cassian were gone for the weekend, caring for Nyx while Feyre and Rhys had a romantic getaway for the weekend. Azriel secretly thought Nesta was using this as a trial to see if her and Cassian were ready for a baby.

It was the perfect opportunity to have Gwyn join him.

The day after she’d approached him, he’d slipped her a note after training to say that he was all in, and to meet him the next night. He tried not to watch her face as she read the note but couldn’t help it. She went bright pink, but she seemed exhilarated.

And now she was standing in his room.

They nervously looked at each other. Azriel wanted to give her the chance to speak first other than their obligatory greetings, but she was tongue-tied.

“I was thinking we should take this in steps,” Azriel said, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her refrain from pacing back and forth.

“That seems logical. What sort of steps?”

“I was thinking tonight we take sex off the table.”

“What?” Her face fell, hurt evident in her expression.

“Just for tonight. Gwyn, have you had your first kiss?”

She shook her head no.

“Then maybe we do that. And anything beyond only what you want. I need you to know that you’re in control here. Whatever we do or don’t do is completely your decision.”

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “That sounds reasonable. Like you’re my little puppet.” Her hands mimed using a marionette, and Azriel found it easy to reciprocate her smile.

She moved to his side, planting herself on the bed next to him. He couldn’t help but notice the how good she smelled, how carefully her hair had been arranged and how she’d worn her nicest dress. She had wanted to look good for him, and the thought made his heart squeeze.

He reached out and held the hands she clasped in her lap. It made her look at him, her teal eyes flashing in the room only lit by his fireplace.

“You’re a very good friend, Azriel.”

“Do you want me to kiss you, Gwyn?”

She nodded, turning her body to face him.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then her lips, before he settled on cradling her face. She leant her head into his hand, so trusting as she looked at him. His hand was so big that the fingers that lay on her neck could feel her hammering pulse.

She leant in the same time he did.

At first it was just a peck. Their lips brushing against each other’s so gently it made Azriel ache. He pressed his lips to her again, and again, getting her used to the feeling of his lips on hers. She enthusiastically reciprocated, her slender fingers running up his chest before meeting behind his head, tangling themselves in his hair. He smiled against her mouth, pleased at such a reaction when the real kissing had yet to even start.

His grazed his tongue along her lip, and she eagerly opened her mouth, letting his tongue slip inside her. The noise she made at the contact buzzed straight through him, and he was pleasantly surprised when Gwyn, in all her eagerness, took control of him.

She kissed him as though she had done it her whole life, like her mouth belonged on his, and the feel of her delicate tongue made him deepen their kiss, angling her head so they could better feel one another. She was practically leaning back, and if this had been a meaningless one night stand she’d have been on her back by now with Azriel’s mouth between her thighs.

She broke away from him, his mouth instinctively following hers as it wanted more, making her gleam in pride.

“I want to change positions,” she said, her hands still wired into his hair.

“Anything you want,” he replied breathlessly.

Azriel didn’t know what to expect, but it was not her getting up and crawling into his lap. She straddled his thighs, and there was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel his erection pressing against her. He did with his hands what any male would do in this situation, and her giggle was enough to know that she’d wanted him to do that.

“Your hands are on my ass,” she laughed.

“Is that okay?”

“Very much so.” She took a deep breath. “Take your shirt off. Please.”

He obliged.

“And you should – you should take off my dress too.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a slip on underneath.”

His hands shook slightly as they ran up her sides and to her back, undoing each button on her dress. To give her a more authentic experience, he decided to lean in as he did, kissing a new spot on her neck with each button that came undone.

She raised her arms so that he could slip the dress over her head, and he averted his eyes when her slip rode up with it. He didn’t look back until she had adjusted herself. When he did, he nearly fainted.

She was divine in her beauty. He always saw lovely she was, anyone with eyes would. Her body was lean and tight. Her uniform may have hidden it, but she had the power of any warrior in her body. Azriel wondered if she purposefully hid her strength so that it was a secret part of her arsenal. Smart female.

He ran his hands up her spread legs before planting them back on her ass. Unable to resist, he squeezed his hands, making her groan.

“Your hands feel so good,” she gasped. “Do everyone’s hands feel like that, or is it just you?”

He snickered. “Anyone who is worth their weight knows how to make a female feel good.” He bumped her shoulder with his nose. “What would you like me to do now? Do you want to keep kissing?”

“Fuck yes I want to keep kissing.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as she playfully nipped at his bottom lip. “But maybe we could do other things. Even better things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Gwyn reached behind her and grabbed one of the hands resting on her behind. For the first time since they’d started, she looked nervous. Her legs were shaking, and Azriel was unsure if it was anxiety or anticipation for whatever she had planned.

She guided his hand under his slip until he was cupping her sex.

“You aren’t.” He swallowed hard. “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

She shook her head playfully. “I didn’t think I would need to.”

She pressed his hand into her, and he moaned at the wetness he found. She was so slick for him already, and all they had done was kiss. He did an exploratory brush through her folds, and as at the tip of his finger grazed over her clit, she arched into him, holding on tight to his shoulders.

He started teasing her, obsessed with the little noises she was making at the back of her throat as he did, but he soon realised something.

Usually, when Azriel was with a female, they got progressively more… turned on. Their bodies would react to his touch, and his fingers would be coated in their juices before he even attempted to enter them with either his fingers or his cock.

Gwyn was not.

It seemed the more he touched her, the more it was like her body didn’t want this. For all intents and purposes, she was… drying up?

His hand went still, and he could feel her body instinctively relaxing as his hand left her pussy.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, clinging to him.

“You don’t enjoy this.” He made her look him in the eye, and his throat tightened at how she looked. There were tears lining her eyes and a deep furrow on her forehead.

“I do, I promise I do. I’m just nervous. If we – if we just overcome this one thing-”

“No, Gwyn.”

“Please Azriel,” she said desperately, trying to guide his hand back between her thighs.

As gently as he could, he lifted her from his lap and placed her beside him on the bed. Her breath shuddered, and he couldn’t bear the shattered look on her face.

She didn’t say a word, just stood up and tried to locate her dress. Azriel didn’t even know where he had thrown it, but he stood and stopped her from looking anyway.

“Gwyn…” He grasped her hands in his, towering over her as they faced each other. “I want to do this for you, please believe me when I say that. But maybe we just need to take a few more steps first. Do something else before that.”

“What else is there?” She was dejected, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m doing Az. And I swear on the Cauldron I want this. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m just so nervous, and I get in my head about everything I do-”

“Hey hey hey, stop that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the ropable tension in her body started to ease out. She slumped against him, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace. “This is fine. Great, even.”

“You are such a liar.” She sighed, but at least she returned his embrace, tucking herself into him so they were as close as possible.

He tried to think of ways to salvage the night for her, to give her at least a little bit of what she wanted.

An idea sprang to mind.

“Gwyn?”

“Mmm?”

“Get on the bed. Lie down.”

She looked up at him hopefully. She didn’t need to be told twice. She practically flung herself at the bed, laying down on her back and resting her arms above her head. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the way she clenched her thighs together than spread them apart like a silent invitation.

Azriel couldn’t help but brighten at her enthusiasm. He undid the buttons on his pants and kicked them down so he was naked before her.

“I thought we weren’t having sex!” She jolted to her side, holding herself up on her arms and staring at his penis, her eyes practically bulging out of her head at the sight of it.

There were many things Azriel did not like about himself. But he had a damn fine cock.

He laughed at the look on her face and shook his head. “We’re not having sex. I’m not even going to touch you.”

She deflated. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

He followed her to the bed, climbing over her without touching her and planting himself next to her so they were lying side to side. He turned his head to her, and she looked at him curiously.

“We’re not just going to lie here naked, are we? It’s a bit cold for that.”

It was a little chilly. Her nipples were hard under her slip, which had ridden up to her stomach.

“No, but we can get under the blanket if you want.”

Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m happy above the blanket.”

They laid in a comfortable silence for a moment, happily taking in each other’s bodies. She was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen, and he was glad to see that their kissing antics had left her dishevelled. He liked that look on her.

“Are you actually not going to touch me?”

“I’m not. I think you should touch yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll touch myself, too. It’ll be a way for us to be more comfortable with each other. For you to be in control of your pleasure.”

“Will you watch me?” she murmured.

“If that’s okay. You can watch me, too.”

She considered his words, and Azriel wondered if this was in fact not the good idea he’d thought he’d had. She pursed her lips, and he knew her answer when she grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it off, leaving her naked before him.

They stared into each other’s eyes as her hand brushed over her exposed breasts, and Azriel had to hold himself back from taking them in his mouth, from pinching her perked nipples with his teeth. Maybe later, that could come; he thought she would quite like it.

Her right hand kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple while her left dipped down between her legs. Two fingers ran over her core, and he studied the way she massaged herself so that he could do it to her in the future. At the sight, he tentatively grasped his cock, wanting to make sure that she was truly okay with him touching himself at the vision of her with her fingers dipping inside her, moistening herself before focusing on her clit.

Her eyes flickered to his stroking hand, and her response nearly made him finish then and there like a teenager exploring themselves for the first time. She’d seen him, and lifted her leg so that it was draped over one of his, giving her a better angle on her clit and twining them together.

“I’m used to being quiet,” she shuddered. “So that no one hears me.”

“Be as loud as you want. Scream for me.”

Her hand quickened, and his sack tightened as he matched her speed with his own hand, gripping himself tightly. He moaned so loudly that he was once again thankful that Cassian and Nesta weren’t in the house. Even the magic of the walls mightn’t contain the pleasure pulsing through him as he watched her.

Her legs started to shake, and the little noises she’d made before were no more. Her voice was loud as she no longer held herself back from feeling even ounce of her impending orgasm.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, her hips starting to gyrate against her hand.

“You. All I can think of is you,” Azriel moaned. He pumped himself quicker, his grip becoming harder.

“What about you,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you thinking about what you saw Cassian do to Nesta?”

Her toes curled at his words. “I’m thinking of what I saw them doing, but it’s you and me.”

“What are we doing, Gwyneth?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her tongue licked her lips before she bit down on them. “We’re in the library. You have me bent over one of the desks, and you’re taking me from behind. One of your arms is around me, and you’re flicking my clit as I scream your name. You’re so deep in me, Azriel, I can feel every inch of you as I clench around you. Cauldron, you feel so good. The best thing I’ve ever felt, Az.”

His breath hitched, and he felt himself on the brink of coming. What finally did him in was her teeth biting down on his shoulder as she screamed his name, her orgasm making her whole body shake as it overcame over.

When they had both come down from their highs, they laid trying to catch their breath, both their bodies covered in sweat.

“That was amazing,” she sighed, turning to face him.

He grabbed a corner of the unused blanket beneath them to wipe himself off, then turned to face her, an arm going around her waist and his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead and cheek.

He wanted to look at her body, finally relaxed and languid, but his shadows had another idea. They bathed over her like silk, dancing over her curves and crevices, making her laugh.

“I quite like them,” she said, her eyes starting to drift closed.

“Are you tired?”

“Mhmm.” She snuggled into him further, stealing his warmth. His cock responded to her touch, but it was too soon yet to do anything meaningful.

“Move up for a sec.”

“Is that you trying to hint that I should go?” Her voice was joking, but the look on her face said that she’d go if he wanted her too.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here with me. I’m just grabbing the blanket.”

She moved away just long enough for him to pull the blankets over them and pull her to his chest again.

She made a content noise and closed her eyes to sleep, and Az thought to himself that he didn’t care if this one day ended their friendship, because it might very well be the best time of his life anyway.

***

The next two weeks were filled with them sneaking away and feverishly touching themselves in all sorts of ways. Once, Gwyn sat in his lap naked while they stroked themselves, kissing each other the entire time. Another time, she pleasured herself by grinding against his thigh and he palmed himself – they hadn’t even bothered to take their clothes off. A late-night training session had led to her using a particularly shaped massage tool on herself in very a scandalous way while he watched, near feral at the sight of her pumping into herself. He did not return that item to the training ring, instead he kept it in his bedside drawer for future use.

It wasn’t until sixteen days and countless orgasms into their agreement that Azriel was finally able to touch her.

It had been a busy night. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor and Emerie were over for dinner, and it had been the most fun Az had had in a group since last solstice. At the table, he’d had Feyre on one side and Gwyn on the other, and her little secret touches to his thigh made him feel warm all over.

It wasn’t necessarily an arousing touch, just an affectionate one. When the group had started to disperse to drink, Nesta the sober adult taking care of Nyx, Az noticed Gwyn sneak away. He promptly followed her, making sure everyone was distracted as he did so no one noticed what they were doing.

Within a few minutes he was between her thighs tasting her. She had mentioned the night before that she wanted his tongue on her, and by the Cauldron was he happy to oblige. She was sitting on the edge of desk in the library that she’d described to him all those weeks ago, and whilst on his knees before her, he jerked himself off as she crumbled beneath his mouth.

Thankfully, by the time they returned, people were far too tipsy to question where they’d been.

Except for Nesta, who looked suspiciously between the two of them. Whatever she was thinking, it was at Gwyn’s behest if she knew anything. It was her decision, always, what happened between them, and if she wanted people to know about their sneakiness, that was for her to decide.

Seven days later is when she first touched him. Until that point it had all been about her, which is what Azriel wanted. They were on his bed, his fingers deep inside her as they kissed, when her hand brushed against his cock. He moved his hips aside, and she broke their kiss off with a noise of indignation.

“Stop swatting my hands away!” She flicked his nose with her finger.

“Huh?” He was still dazed on the sound of his hand gliding through her dripping wet core.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Her voice was curt.

“I just want this to be about you. I don’t want you to think that I’m only with you for my own sexual gratification. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness, my soul purpose is you. You’re my priority.” He kissed her neck. “My desires are your desires.” Another kiss. “I can’t focus if you’re anything less than panting and satisfied.”

She pursed her lips, a familiar expression at this point. It turned into a joyful smile, and she smacked a kiss to his lips. “That was actually very sweet. After I get you off, I’m going to sit on your face.”

What was even better than the heavy petting and intense make out sessions was the talking. Sometimes for hours they would just tangle themselves together and divulge their life stories. Azriel knew all about her sister and mother – Gwyn confessing that she felt guilt when her twin wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, but sometimes she pushed her away because the memory of her was overwhelmingly devastating. Az wiped her tears away, desperate to see her smile again. But he also knew of all the good times she’d had growing up, and it made him feel alight inside to know how loved she was. Az told her mostly of Rhys and Cassian and the family they had made for themselves, about how it was so hard to be away from his mother, but he wouldn’t have survived another day in his father’s presence. Gwyn cried for him sometimes, and Azriel had never known such empathy from another.

When they were alone in the House, Nesta and Cassian off on one of their sexcations, Gwyn would spend her evenings and nights with him just as a friend, doing housework and menial tasks that she didn’t have to while humming various tunes. Az would tell her to stop working, but she would just grin and say she liked feeling like part of a home too much to not pretend that she lived there too. So he would just hum with her, his shadows dancing and swaying the way they always inevitably did around her. Then they would fall into bed together (or any surface really) until they were spent and exhausted.

Azriel had never known happiness like this.

***

Azriel was buzzing with excitement. He’d left Gwyn wrapped up in his bed, the sun not yet risen, and made sure to leave her some breakfast on his nightstand and the fire burning to keep her warm without his body next to hers. Usually he would wake her up early with his head between her thighs so she could go back to the library, but she had already told the acolytes she roomed with that she would be staying with Nesta, so no need to sneak around when no one was expecting her.

Before they’d gone to sleep the night before, Gwyn said something to him that left him smiling even now as he made his way to Rhys.

I want to have sex, Az. I’m sure. I know I’m safe with you.

Az didn’t know why Rhys needed him, but if it involved leaving Velaris, he would barter for a few more days so that he might be with Gwyn before he left. An odd feeling entered his chest at the thought. He couldn’t name the feeling; he just knew he didn’t want to leave Gwyn alone.

He landed on the doorstep of Feyre and Rhys’ home. Before he had the chance to let himself in, Feyre opened the door, a grave look on her face.

“Quick. Before they start yelling.” Feyre pinched her nose, the other hand holding Nyx on her hip.

Azriel pushed past her, and it wasn’t hard to find the source of Feyre’s frustration.

“Once again you fucking asshole, you need to back off. How dare you-”

“Nes, calm down-”

“Tell me to calm down again Cassian and I’m out of here. As I was saying, how fucking dare you accuse her of such things, Rhysand, High Lord of Shitting me up the Wall.”

“Nesta, for fuck’s sake you’re getting defensive for no reason!”

“No reason?!” she spat, Cassian holding her back before she lunged at Rhys.

“Too late,” Feyre muttered at him as she walked into the office, sitting at the desk to remain neutral in Nesta and Rhysand’s pissing match. Azriel would love to know what had riled them up so much that they were nearly screaming at each other, but any guidance from his brothers was not there.

“You have to admit that it’s suspicious, Nesta!”

Rhys threw his arm at Azriel as he approached, looking triumphant. “Azriel will agree with me.”

“He will not.”

“May I ask what I might need to agree to, or will it remain a mystery as to why you’re yelling so early in the morning?” Az crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to stop acting like children.

“Rhys accused Gwyn of being a spy,” Nesta growled.

“You’re twisting my words! I said I’d had reports of her acting strange, of her behaviour being completely different, and I suggested that it was worth looking into. We have to consider the safety of Velaris, and Gwyn would be the perfect plant.”

Azriel was sure Rhys was going to say more, but he was interrupted by Azriel’s uncontrollable fit of laughter. His laughs shook his whole body, and he felt tears in his eyes from how hard his fit was hitting him. He had to bend over to try and catch his breath, clutching at his chest as though his lungs might leap out of it.

“What’s so funny,” Rhys deadpanned.

Azriel shook his head and walked to Nesta, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Are you serious, Rhys? Gwyn? Gwyenth Berdara?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Both Clotho and Merrill have approached me. Clotho, because she was worried, and Merrill, because she thought that Gwyn was being insubordinate. Clotho has had multiple girls come to her in fear for Gwyn, saying she’s been disappearing at night and coming back early in the morning. They she’s tired, unfocused, and that she’s exceeding every expectation they had for her in training and acting like a different person in the library. This has all been reported over the last month.” Rhys picked Nyx out of Feyre’s arms to calm himself before continuing. “Gwyn knows incredibly sensitive information about us. She helped us with the Trove, she treats the House of Wind like she bloody lives there. She’s awfully comfortable for a person who previous to knowing us refused to leave the library.”

Any humour Azriel felt had been leeched from his body. Nesta’s verbal beating of Rhys had been justified and then some.

“With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself,” he bit at his brother.

Feyre made a noise in the back of her throat and took Nyx back from Rhys before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Too much swearing for such little ears! she said into their minds as she was leaving.

“What the fuck, Az?” Rhys looked startled.

“I knew he’d side with me,” Nesta said smugly.

“She’s ‘awfully comfortable?’ Yeah, she is, because she found a fucking family. Nesta is like a sister to her, and she’s over at the House a lot not because she’s entitled, but because we want her there. You might not make that much of an effort with Nesta’s friends because of your own personal shit, but Cassian and I consider her a close friend. Accusing her of anything unbecoming, to me, is as bad as if you’d dragged me in here to tell me Cassian was working against us. You sound ludicrous. Also, need I remind you, it’s not your fucking House anymore. Who we have over is none of your damned business.”

Rhys scoffed. “It’s not your House either.”

“Sorry, High Lord Rhysand, I’ll manage my expectations.” Az clenched his jaw at Rhys’ words. He was right. Azriel didn’t technically have any property, neither had Cassian until Rhys had given Nesta the House as a mating gift. Azriel didn’t technically have a home beyond the sky, nothing worth giving to or sharing with another person. Even now, Gwyn was waiting for him in a bedroom that technically wasn’t is. He wouldn’t dare leave though, not when he knew it was one of only two places that Gwyn felt safe in.

“Why are you getting so defensive? You know what I’m saying is reasonable.”

“It would be if we didn’t know her. She is… there are not words to describe her.”

“Yes, there is,” Nesta piqued. “She is competitive. She is feisty. She’s a Valkyrie. She is the kindest soul in Velaris. She is so brave, and strong, and the most selflessly loving person I’ve met in my entire life. If you weren’t so thick headed, you would see that she’s like Feyre in a lot of ways.” Nesta paused. She left Azriel’s side to stand in front of Rhys, her shoulders back and her head high. “If you accuse her of something it would break her heart. I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her, Nesta.” Rhys rubbed a hand over his face. “If you’re so convinced that nothing is going on, can you explain her strange behaviour.”

Nesta turned away from Rhys, so that he couldn’t see her face. When Nesta looked over at Azriel, she didn’t need to say a single word for him to know that she knew the exact reason Gwyn was acting different.

It was because of him.

“I don’t need to explain it because I trust her. I’m also with her nearly every minute of every day. Do you not think I would not notice if she was conniving against us? Or are you truly that foolish?”

“I agree with Nesta,” Cassian said. “She’s either with us training the Valkyries, or she’s working with Nesta in the library. Who cares if she’s a little distracted, we all are sometimes.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Rhys directed his question at Azriel, almost as if he couldn’t trust Cassian and Nesta to be impartial because of how close they were to Gwyn. Huh. If only he knew.

“I have never been surer of anything.”

***

“Azriel, wait.”

Azriel was stalking through the front gardens. He would walk until his head was clear, then he would go home – go to the House of Wind – and spend the morning with Gwyn. Nesta had other plans.

“What is it?”

“Gwyn-”

“-will be safe. I won’t let Rhys near her.”

“I’m not worried about that. What is going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not blind. All the things Rhys described? Sure, might be espionage, but it might also just be someone falling in love.”

“We’re not together.” Love? What a preposterous thought. Gwyn had been very clear from the beginning in what she wanted from him. She needed someone to fulfil her physical needs, and Azriel was happy to do so. All the other stuff, the talking and friendship, was just icing.

“Then what are you doing? Setting yourselves up to get hurt?”

“This is a conversation you should have with her.”

“She trusts you so much, Az. Please, don’t do anything that would hurt her. She’s come so far since we met.”

“Nesta, I promise you I couldn’t dream of hurting her. The thought alone makes me feel visceral pain. What we do, what we are, is just her making decisions and doing what she wants. How did you even know there was something going on?”

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I guessed she had a flirtation with someone. I knew it was you from the way she started saying your name.”

Azriel felt his eyes burn, but he did not know why. “The way she says my name?”

“I’ve heard the way she says it a million times. From Cassian and I. From Rhys and Feyre. I can’t describe it beyond that.”

Azriel shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted where he stood. “Have you told Cas?”

“I don’t need to, he knows.”

“So you guys have talked about it?”

“No. I haven’t told him that I know. But I know he knows. And he also knows I know.”

“So he knows you know even though you haven’t told him you know and you know he knows even though he hasn’t said he knows?”

“Exactly,” she laughed. Her smile was more genuine now. It was a look she’d only had since her mating ceremony. It sung contentment, something she, like him, struggled to have.

She came to him and linked their arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Her friendship was invaluable to him, as much as it was a surprise when it first started to form.

“I have one other thing to say, and then I’ll let you go home to Gwyn.”

“Yes, Nesta?”

“The House of Wind is as much as your home as it is mine. You can stay there forever if you want. It is your home, Azriel, and I wouldn’t dream of it being anything else.”

***

Gwyn was awake when Azriel returned home. She was humming a song to herself in bed, wrapped in his blankets like it was a cocoon. She had the breakfast he made for her in her lap, and when he entered the room, she pulled the blanket aside and opened her arms for him to fall into to.

Maybe he still looked stormy after his talk with Rhys, or maybe she just wanted to hold him. Either way, he fell happily into her embrace.

***

Gwyn had set a date. She did not intend to be so clinical about it, she just wanted to give herself a chance to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and she needed a few days to do so.

The month she’d had with Azriel had been… Cauldron, she did not know how to exactly describe it. When she had approached him, she honestly did not think that he would say yes to such a ridiculous idea. But he had, and he’d given her nothing short of the best month of her life. Her cheeks ached from how much she was smiling, and even if she was tired when she worked, she wouldn’t give up her restless nights for anything.

It would also be remiss for her to not acknowledge that perhaps what she had with him was more than an arranged bargain, but any time the thoughts propped up she promptly put them to the side.

She had not gone to see Az last night, needing the time to do extra work so that she could be missed for a day. Or two. Maybe even three.

Gwyn didn’t know how long this marathon might last, but if it were anything like Nesta and Cassian’s, it could be a while.

She had also warned Clotho and the females she shared her room with that she would be staying at the House of Wind for a few days. When asked why, she just said she was doing something with Emerie without going into any detail.

So, tonight it was. She was ready.

She was so fucking ready.

The moment dinner was served in the library she made a run for it, having to physically restrain herself from skipping out of the library. She was so excited, her body literally vibrating with energy, that she didn’t even see Nesta before their bodies slammed together.

They went to a ground in a tangled fumble, and Nesta was too busy laughing to listen to Gwyn’s repeated apologies. The brisk evening air greeted them, the stars starting to peek through the violet dusk as they laid on the path that took them from the library to the training area to the House.

“Well, you made looking for you much easier,” Nesta said, brushing off her dress as she stood. She offered Gwyn a hand, which she gladly took. Nesta started walking towards the House, their hands not dropping as they swung them between them like children.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Emerie is here with Mor and Feyre. I wanted you to join us for dinner.”

“I have dinner with you every night.”

“I know, but I wanted you to know that you’re not just welcome but also invited.”

Gwyn smiled at Nesta, love for her friend filling her heart.

They approached the House, Nesta’s face falling as they walked in and saw Rhys standing in the middle of the room, confused looks on the faces of Mor and Emerie as everyone just looked uncomfortable.

Nesta’s hands squeezed Gwyn’s, and for just a second it felt like Nesta was about to pull Gwyn right back to the library.

“I’m not sure what the problem is,” Mor said slowly. “We go out in Velaris all the time, why can’t we tonight?”

“You’re more than welcome to, I would just rather stay here,” Azriel replied.

Gwyn knew the look on his face. It was the same look he’d had a few days ago when he’d returned from Mother knows where after Rhys summoned him. Gwyn assumed Azriel had just had to do one of the many hard tasks expected of a spymaster, but perhaps there was something else if his face was a mirror of that again now.

“What’s going on?” asked Nesta.

They all turned to look at them like they were surprised to see them. Not even Azriel had noticed their entrance, although Gwyn self-admitted that Azriel tended to be surprised by her sudden appearances quite often. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought maybe his shadows didn’t bother warning him when she was near. It’s not like she was a danger to the guy.

“Rhys came and said we should try the new restaurant on the Rainbow! The one near Feyre’s studio? I’ve heard really nice things about it, and the family that opened it are really beautiful.” Mor beamed at them all, trying to disperse the odd tension. “And then maybe we could go dancing.”  

The idea sounded wonderful, and Gwyn wistfully wished she could join them. In reality, just the thought of going into the city set her heard racing. The only time she had ever left the library or the House, other than to go to Emerie’s house which landed them in the Bloodrite, was to officiate Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. Although the memory was one of her most treasured ones, it was not something she thought she would be able to do again. Not yet.

“I’ve heard great things about that place,” Nesta replied, her stomach audibly grumbling at just hearing about the exquisite food it might receive.

“You are all more than welcome to go.” Azriel swept a hand out between them. “But I don’t want to.”

His gaze flickered to Gwyn, and suddenly the eyes of everyone were on her.

A blanket of understanding washed over the room. Most eyes were understanding, Mor’s held the pity that Gwyn hated, and Rhys looked indifferent, if not satisfied.

Azriel’s resistance became evident. It wasn’t just that it was the night, their night, but he didn’t want her to be left alone whilst everyone else galivanted through the city having the time of their lives when they knew she wouldn’t be able to join them.

“I don’t want to go either. It’s been a long week and I’m tired,” said Nesta.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes at her lying sister but couldn’t hold it in her heart to be angry. In face, she had to stop it from swelling with how loving their words felt. They didn’t want her to be alone. They wanted to stay with her.

“You know,” spoke Emerie softly, “I can’t imagine anywhere making food as well as the House.”

Mor’s eyes shot to Emerie, and Gwyn wondered if she was imagining the slight betrayed look in them.

“Guy’s, c’mon. Rhys and I made a reservation, they’re expecting us! It would be rude not to go,” Mor pleaded.

Azriel opened his mouth to snap back, but Gwyn interrupted. “She’s right. You should go enjoy yourselves.”

“But Gwyn-”

“It’s okay, Nesta. Please, I really think you should all go.” She made a point to look at Azriel. “It sounds like it would be a lot of fun.”

“It’s not fair to arrange activities that we can’t all participate in.” Azriel’s voice had softened as he looked at her, and if she didn’t have better self-control she would stride over and plant a kiss on his pouting lips.

“How could Mor have known that Gwyn would be here? It’s not her fault,” Rhys interjected.

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard-”

“Stop, just stop.” Gwyn clutched her hands in front of her and stepped away from Nesta. She needed them to see her as an adult, as someone who was strong and to be taken seriously. “It’s fine. Really, truly. I have a lot to do anyway.” She turned to Feyre and waved her fingers at Nyx. “If you would like, I can take care of him so you can enjoy some grown-up time.”

For a second Feyre looked hopeful, but then she schooled her face into neutrality. Rhys stepped between the two, and Feyre had to put an arm on his shoulder.

As if to stop him stepping any further.

Gywn blinked, feeling like she should blanch away but not sure as to why.

“That won’t be necessary,” Rhys said. She’d heard him use that voice before. It was his political voice. His I-have-an-agenda voice. Now it was her turn to look confused.

“No worries,” Gwyn whispered.

She looked away from the High Lord’s searing gaze and back to her friends. She hoped her face didn’t speak of her sadness.

“Please go. I would feel awful if any of you stayed on my part. If anything, by going and having a great time you’d be doing me a favour, because I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You could always just come with us,” Mor said, tucking her hair behind her ears in a way that was comically similar to how the ‘popular’ girls in her smutty books would behave.

Gwyn bit her lip, thinking about it. Of course, logically, she would be safe. They would all be there, Azriel would be there, but she genuinely felt like she might vomit at the thought. A bead of sweat dripped down her back, and she despised how her eyes stung with tears. She breathed the way her and Nesta had learnt from Valkyrie texts and pulled herself back to reality. Sometimes the logic of actions did not dictate how you would feel, or react, to a situation. Gwyn reminded herself once more to be kinder to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, Mor, but I am happy here.” Gwyn smiled brightly at them all, and they seemed to relax – all but Az and her sisters.

She shooed them out of the House, hoping that one day she would be able to join them.

***

It was odd. Gwyn had spent much time over the last few years alone, but it had never affected her. And although the House was quite good company – it had dinner and dessert ready for her with a box of tissues and chocolates even before Cassian had finally flown off with the resistant Nesta – it wasn’t the same as spending time with someone who could talk back to you.

She only just made it through her meal when she crawled into Azriel’s bed, hoping the scent of him would make her feel better.

It didn’t, but the sight of his room did. There were unlit candles lining the room, and flowers adorning every surface. The cheeky male had even installed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, and she blushed profusely at the implications.

He had tried to make it romantic, and she adored him for it.

She had no idea when he would be back, and she scolded herself for wishing it would be sooner rather than later. She wanted him to be out and about with his family, even if it made her burn with envy that everyone would be able to enjoy him but her.

She rolled over, stuffing her face into his pillow and groaning. She should take off her day clothes and resign herself to pyjamas. Maybe she should sleep in a different bedroom so as to not torture herself with what this night could have been.

Her night with Az. The night with Az.

“That’s it. I am so over this,” she said aloud before springing up. She stomped out of the room and towards Nesta’s, flinging her closet open to inspect her clothes.

It was just a restaurant. It was safe. She would be fine. Besides, how could she overcome her fears if not to face them? She had gone to Emerie’s and survived. She had gone to Nesta’s mating ceremony and survived. She had won the bloody Bloodrite!

As she looked through the dresses, she quickly realised they wouldn’t fit. They would hang loose at her hips and chest, where Nesta was beautifully endowed and she was not.

“Not to worry, I’ll just take a coat then.” Taking the first one she saw, light but soft enough that warmth wouldn’t be an issue, Gwyn shoved her shoes on approached the door that led to the ten thousand steps that would take her to Velaris. She didn’t know where to go from there, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she would be able to find her friends with enough willpower. And since meeting Nesta and Emerie, since being empowered by the strongest females she knew and since empowering herself, she knew she had that willpower in abundance.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

***

She didn’t know at what point the House had left her, its omnipresence not connected to the stairs, but she was doing just fine even if she felt its absence. She counted in her head to keep track of where she was.

One thousand. Feeling good. Coat in arms.

Two thousand. Out of breath but in a good way.

Three thousand. Fucking shit.

Four thousand. Maybe she should turn around.

Five thousand.

Six thousand. How has Nesta done this multiple times?

Seven thousand. She had this! This was easier than Ramiel!

Eight thousand. If she died here no one would find her.

Nine thousand.

Ten. Fucking. Thousand.

Gwyn realised that there was no way she’d be able to eat with them. They would be having dessert if they hadn’t already moved on. She just needed to find them.

As Gwyn took the last step, her toes touched the streets of Velaris for the very first time.

It was so beautiful she thought she might cry. There was colour everywhere, the laughter of adults and children alike, and she could smell delicious food as the many restaurant’s wide-open doors let the scents pour into the streets. The faelights lining the streets reminded her of the stars she often gazed at with Azriel, the thought of him like a caress to her mind.

Azriel loved Velaris, would die for this city if he had to. How could she been afraid of something he loved so much?

She took one step. Then one more. She was sure to anyone that glanced her way she must have looked like a lunatic, her eyes wide in wonder as she moved at a snail’s pace, Nesta’s coat bundled in her arms because after all those steps she didn’t need it.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, equal parts fear and excitement, as she walked through the city. She got a few odd looks, but she could see it was out of curiosity for a newcomer in a city that had been locked down for centuries, and not for violence. She wasn’t leered at or bothered. In fact, the only time someone even talked to her was when a toddler sprinted from his mother’s side, his legs too quick for his body to keep up, and he fell into her.

The mother apologised profusely but Gwyn didn’t care at all. How could she be mad at the pudgy little baby?

It was easy to find her way to a district clearly dedicated to all things food. If possible, she slowed down even more. She peeked inside every restaurant looking for the four sets of wings that would set her friends apart from everyone else.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of searching but was probably closer to forty minutes, she saw them.

Azriel and Rhys were standing outside the restaurant Mor must’ve been talking about. Light and music drifted from its open windows, the streets still full of roaming people. Gwyn knew they wouldn’t be able to see her yet, and she wondered how she should approach them.

Azriel… did not look happy, and the tense set of Rhys’ shoulders and back let her know that his face likely looked the same, even if he was facing away from her.

Before she could think of a strategy, Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

Gwyn could not describe the feeling that filled her as they drunk in one another. Still standing twenty steps from him, his gaze made her feel like she was wrapped in his arms.

She raised one hand in a wave, and it was like Rhys didn’t exist at all.

Azriel shoved him to the side, Rhys making an indignant sound as he did. He ran to her, and she dropped Nesta’s coat so she could wrap her arms around him as they crashed together. People in the streets backed off at Azriel’s display, and in that moment she couldn’t have cared less about where she was, as long as she was with him.

His wings wrapped around her, creating a shield between them and the outside world.

“Gwyn.”

“Hey Az,” she whispered, her arms around his neck and his face tucked to her shoulder.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He straightened and brushed the hair from her face. It had stuck to her skin from how much she had sweat while taking the stairs, but she didn’t care how she looked. She knew he certainly never would.

He looked ready to fight an invisible threat, and it made her throb in unspeakable places.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just – I. Um.” She hadn’t rehearsed what she would say to him, but it’s not like she could blurt out Hey! Just wanted to near you at all times and rub my body against yours!

“Did something happen? What do you need me to do?”

She shook her head. “No, no, Az, really, I’m fine. I just regretted not coming out with you all.”

He must have been able to see the honesty on her face and smile, because he relaxed, his wings folding back.

The look on his face was adorable as the realisation dawned on him that she was here for him.

“Did I miss everything? Are you all done?”

He didn’t answer, but he did look behind him. Rhys was standing there with his mouth open, his face laced with something Gwyn couldn’t put a name to. Before she could greet him, Rhys stormed back into the restaurant.

Azriel turned back to her, and he didn’t hesitate when he lifted her chin and kissed her.

She gasped but reciprocated zealously. She pushed her body into his, and his arms went around her as he lifted her off her feet, cradling him to her as he kissed her like she was the wind that let him embrace the skies. He tasted like air, like gold, like this was his final breath and he was he was sharing it with just her.

***

Azriel sat with Gwyn while the rest of their friends danced. She hid it well, but he could tell that she was nervous being in this new environment.

She had been so good, so brave when she went into the restaurant and greeted Azriel’s family. Nesta and Emerie jumped up when they saw her, and Nesta held her tightly while Emerie rushed to get another chair. Nesta was trying to be subtle, but Azriel saw the happy tears she shed as she held Gwyn. Emerie then insisted that Gwyn sit and eat her strawberry and mango cheesecake with her, which earned an inexplicable scowl from Mor. Interesting.

Once Gwyn was satisfied and protesting the consumption of more food, they all walked together to one of the classier bars Nesta used to frequent so they could go dancing. Everyone was light as a feather, except Rhys, but life was hard as a fucking asshole, so Az wasn’t surprised he was feeling surly.

And now here they were. Azriel and Gwyn seated with the others dancing to their hearts content. Mor was spinning around with a giggling Nyx, Feyre and Rhys were swaying but it was obvious they were speaking to each other through their daemati bond, and Emerie and Nesta were terrorising Cassian in a three-way dance.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked, his shadows silent to her moods. If it had been anyone else, he would have known she was coming to the restaurant before she’d even left the House. But his shadows didn’t like to spy on her and revelled in him being surprised by her.

“I feel good.” Her gaze was focused on the dance floor, and Azriel glanced over to see what was so entrancing.

Nesta and Cassian were finally dancing alone, Emerie now with Nyx and Mor. The way Cassian and Nesta were grinding on each other was nothing short of pornographic as they moved into the shadows of the dance floor. Nesta’s back was to Cassian, his hands clasped on her hips as his lips were on her neck as she pushed her ass back against him.

Azriel snorted. They’d be fucking in an alley within the next fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to dance like that, Gwyneth?”

She turned to him, a lovely flush spreading from her face to her chest. “No,” she said unconvincingly. She slid her chair closer to his, the bar stool so high she had to hop onto it to sit. It was frightfully cute, and Azriel had to restrain from kissing her again.

He couldn’t help it in the street. The sight of her – rumpled, breathless, her face alight with joy – was too much for him.

She was beginning to be too much for him.

The longer he was with her, the more of her he was allowed to have, the more he feared he could never go back to just a simple friendship. This female would either be his salvation or his ruination, either of which he would happily accept if it meant he could savour every minute he had left with her.

Under the table, she linked their hands, and Azriel thought he might very well die from the touch.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to enjoy our plans.” He rubbed his thumb against her finger.

She smiled his way, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “It’s okay.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I went to your room. I saw what you had done.”

He swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

She removed her hand from his and placed it on his thigh. “I loved it.”

He shifted in his seat, glad that the tablecloth was long enough so that anyone around, if they looked, would only see their ankles. “You’re playing with fire right now,” he chucked under his breath as she continued to stroke his thigh.

“I especially liked the mirror on the ceiling. May I ask, what purpose does it serve?” Her smile may have been all innocent, but the way her hand was moving was anything but.

She leant against him so they were touching shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

“It was for your pleasure.”

“Is that right?”

He brushed his lips to her ear, grateful that the dim lights of the bar kept them in the shadows and that the dancing bodies kept their scents hidden. And over the live music, no one would hear them. “Mhm. It was so that, no matter what position I put you in, you could watch me.”

She tipped her head back, humming in acknowledgement. Her hand, already in dangerous territory, swept down his increasingly hard length.

He grunted, laying both his hands on the table and fisting the cloth.

“Is this okay?” she asked, breathless.

He nodded, taking a swig of his drink to distract him.

She brushed her hand down again, bolder this time, and he squirmed in his chair.

“I would take it out, but I fear it would be seen over the table. So inside it stays,” she sighed. “It must be hard being so large.” She put her lips to his ear, mimicking what he had done to her. “I do love it though. The size, the taste, I think about it constantly.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he choked out. “But at least I’d die happy.”

Her hand slipped inside his pants, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into her hand. He tilted his head back in pleasure as she worked him, getting the angles just right as she pumped him. He was unbelievably aroused by the public act, barely able to believe that she’d do something so audacious. But Cauldron have mercy, he would do anything if it meant she was touching him. She could ask to ride him right now in the middle of this bar and he would blissfully indulge.

“I’m going to finish soon,” he warned her.

“I can’t wait for you to finish in me.”

Her words were his undoing, and he felt the edge of the table splinter under his grip as he contained his moan of pleasure.

He stared at her as she pulled her hand from him, offering him a serviette to clean himself like she hadn’t just given him a mind-blowing orgasm where anyone could have seen.

“Az?” she asked after a few, content minutes of silence.

“Yes, Gwyneth?”

“Do you think we could go dance?”

***

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relentlessly happy. Azriel flew her and Emerie back to the House of Wind, the latter looking forlorn as they finally left the bar in the small hours of the morning.

Rhys and Feyre had left much earlier, Nyx too small to stay up that late, and if Gwyn was being honest she was surprised they lasted as long as they did. Feyre seemed fine, but Rhys was in a shocking mood. Every time she asked Azriel about it, he just muttered about Rhys being a jerk without elaborating. She could tell that whatever it was, it was sensitive, so she didn’t push him.

Her and Nesta put a very intoxicated Emerie to bed, stripping her and putting her into some pyjamas before tucking her in nice and tight with some herbs on her nightstand that would help her head in the morning. Azriel and Cassian had already gone to their respective bedrooms, and Gwyn contemplated how she was going to sneak into Azriel’s room when Nesta stopped her.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“Of course.”

Nesta led her to the library, and they plopped themselves onto one of the plush couches. Gwyn faced her as she sat, tucking her feet under Nesta’s thighs to keep them warm.

Two hot chocolates appeared to them on a table, a dish of marshmallows to the side. They whispered their thanks to the House, claiming the warm drinks. Gwyn pressed hers up against her face, liking the warmth on her skin.

“What do you want to talk about?” Gwyn asked, taking a sip.

“Azriel. You. You and Azriel.” Nesta patted her shin, and Gwyn put her drink down. This wasn’t a hot chocolate kind of conversation.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“Do you love him, Gwyn? Because if you did, or even if you don’t, you don’t have to sneak around Cassian and I and pretend nothing is happening. You can live here, forever if you want. All four of us in the House.”

“Nesta-”

“Imagine if we both had our families and babies here. It’s a big place, we wouldn’t get in each other’s way. And maybe Emerie could come too and she could fall in love too and we’d all be so happy. Okay, I’m rambling and that was weird. What I’m trying to say is – is that you can Azriel are so obviously together and I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out why you’re keeping it a secret from us, not that I care that you have secrets you’re an adult and you don’t have to tell me everything, and I’m so fucking happy for you, Gwyn, and I want you to know that you can be publicly happy, if you want.”  

“Nesta…”

“I just love this. You and him. I’ve never seen Azriel so happy and you just smile all the time. And, oh, it reminds me of Cassian. In the way that I can see ourselves reflected in you two, and I wonder if maybe if I hadn’t been so,” she gestured at her head, “you know, then I could have just been this happy from the start of us, with him, like you two. So I need you to know that if you want that, if you want him, I am so incredibly supportive and I will do anything you want if it means you get your happily ever after. Okay, I’m done.”

“Nesta.”

“And I also would just love to know how this all began. Like the secret little smiles and observations that I’ve had for as long as I’ve known you just changed one day. And I know you guys used to train alone sometimes and I know you were always here with him, and me and Cas but I can’t pinpoint when your friendship turned into this.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I really am done now.”

“Are you sure?” Gwyn pinched her cheek lovingly, and Nesta swatted it away.

“Yes.”

Gwyn took a second to think about her words, and as nice and idyllic as they sounded, Gwyn wasn’t sure they were the truth.

“Nesta, we aren’t together.”

“What?”

“We have a…” Gwyn struggled to find the words. “Deal? Agreement?”

“A sexy agreement?”

Gwyn laughed. “No. Well, yes actually.” She launched into the story of how her and Azriel had started their bargain, detailing how Azriel had agreed to help her overcome her fear, and how much they practised towards her ultimate goal of sex. Gwyn also expressed how their closeness was something she treasured, as spending so much time together naturally led to a deepening in their friendship. Her face stained pink as she told her of some of the things they had done, but how, after over a month together, that hadn’t actually sealed the deal.

Nesta was silent the entire story, letting Gwyn speak her truth. She was contemplative over Gwyn’s words, not saying anything until she was done speaking.

“Before I say anything, I want to let you know how incredibly proud of you I am, and how much I support wanting to explore yourself and your sexuality. No matter what I say, I need you to know that.”

Well, that wasn’t a good start.

“I understand, Nesta.”

“Gwyn, do you love him?”

Gwyn took a deep breath. It was a topic she often pushed from her mind, unable or not wanting to broach the subject. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no, Gwyn.”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders. “What if it’s a ‘I’m not sure because I so thoroughly blurred the lines between what was real and what I asked him to do to help me?’ What if it’s a ‘I don’t know if I could say it to him but if he said it to me, I would say it back in an instant?’”

“Do you know how he feels about you? Has he said anything?”

Gwyn shook her head. “I know we’re friends. I know he cares about me. I know he would do anything I asked of him. I know he must love me, in some way, but I don’t know if it’s love-love or platonic love.”

“And he’s never given any sort of indication of his intentions?”

Gwyn pondered how thoughtful he was, how detail oriented he was to her pleasure and how he was the best part of her day. And as she thought about it, about him, who was so caring and lovable and agreeable, and she realised that a lot of what he did for her – the comfort, the talking, the support – he would do for anyone.

“I’ve never asked.” Her breath shuddered, and Nesta put a hand to her cheek.

“Maybe you should.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do? What if I’m just an obligation?”

“Oh, my love.” Nesta repositioned them so that Gwyn was lying down, her head in Nesta’s lap, as Nesta lovingly stroked her hair. It reminded Gwyn so much of what Catrin used to do that she couldn’t help the tears that started to shed.

“It’s better to know what you are to him. If it’s any consolation, I think he cares about you a great deal. Maybe even loves you. It’s hard to tell when he’s naturally so cold.”

He wasn’t cold, she wanted to say, he was the warmest person she knew. Instead, she cried, and she let Nesta comfort her like she always did.

***

A few days passed, and although Gwyn never left the House, her sexual relations with Az didn’t progress. Rather, they stopped altogether. He didn’t mind at all, he was just glad for her company. They talked and trained, and Azriel was surprised that somehow he could be even more impressed of her than before.

She also started doing what he called her ‘casual kisses.’

They would be doing something monotonous, like sorting weapons for training the next day, and she could kiss him as she walked by him. Or they would be sitting in bed reading, and she would lean over and brush her lips to his temple.

It became a game, who could casually kiss the other first if the opportunity arose, and it was the best game Az had ever played.

He felt himself looking forward to the nights even if the only touching they did was cuddling until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Azriel wondered if this is what home felt like.

It was late, and Gwyn decided that she needed to return to the library before people started to question where she was. Az didn’t have the heart to tell her they already were.

“I had the most interesting conversation with Nesta the other day,” she said as they reached the door that would take her away.

“What about?”

Gwyn fiddled with her fingers, trepidation oozing from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry starting to maw at him.

“I’m fine.” She turned to face him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her on her hairline. He loved the height different between them, it made him feel bigger than he was. “Nesta asked me about us. She has suspected for a while.”

He schooled his face into neutrality. As far as Gwyn knew, this was new information to him.

He hadn’t told her a word of what had happened between them and Rhys, and it would stay that way. All it would do was hurt her, and Azriel was serious when he said no harm would ever come her way from him. She did not need to know that Rhys was acting like a tool.

In more ways than one. Azriel didn’t need to read minds to know that Rhys was highly suspicious of them both. And more so, as much as it pained him to admit, how much Rhys disapproved. He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t bear to ask, but he had a good idea. Rhys, as much as he loved Az, must know that he would never be good enough for Gwyn. The idea had plagued him for days, and the only thing that drove away the dark thoughts were the casual kisses Gwyn would bestow upon him.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her, snapping back to their conversation.

She shrugged. “At first I was worried, but now I’m actually kind of relieved.”

“Why were you worried?”

“You know, it’s weird. I had it in my head that if people knew I was on this mission to achieve some ultimate, empowering orgasm that they might judge me. But Nesta never would, and I felt like an idiot as soon as she looked at me and told me she knew we were,” she gestured between them, “touching.”

Az snickered. “Touching is one way to sum it up.”

“She asked me something I couldn’t answer.”

“What was that?”

“She asked me what we are.” She brushed her hands over his chest absentmindedly. “What I am to you.”

He clasped her hands and held them to his heart, trying to make her look at him when she was purposefully focusing on the floor.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. That I don’t know what I am to you.”

“Gwyn…”

“I need to say something, and I beg you not to interrupt until I’m done.” She sniffled, and he hated the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away, facing him with steel. “I genuinely approached you with nothing but friendship in mind. I had a plan, to sleep with you once and then go back to how we always were before – me, as your overly competitive but absolute best student, and you as, as this God of a man that I could not believe even walked the same existence as me, let alone be someone I considered a friend. You were my ribbon Az. The thing I wanted to be as good as. And then you said yes to me. I didn’t expect you to. I half-thought you would laugh because you thought I was joking. But you didn’t, and you said yes, and I have made the grave mistake of developing feelings I swore to myself I wouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a hand over his mouth before he could.

“I had every intention of having sex with you until Nesta asked me what I was to you. And then I realised that if all I was to you was a proposition to uphold, I couldn’t do it. I can’t be with you just once. I can’t be just friends if we take that last step. So, Az, I’m asking you, and please don’t feel obligated to say anything you don’t feel, but what am I to you?”

He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like his ribs were being ripped apart and then shoved back together until his lungs were caged too tightly. He knew what he wanted to say, that of course she was more than that, she was everything, but then he thought of her spirit being crushed by his inadequacies, and how she could do so much better now that she was ready to. She was pure, she was light, and she deserved more than his darkness.

He had been quiet too long.

Watching her was like watching a porcelain doll shatter after being dropped. Her face crumbled, and she pulled her hands away from him as she tried to contain herself.

“You’re my best friend.” He finally said, his own tears stinging at his eyes. “I can’t lose you.” Which he would, if she stayed with him and realised how truly broken he was.

A sob fractured her chest, and Az hated the way her voice sounded when she spoke. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then they were kissing. It tasted like salt from their tears and was more passionate and heart-wrenching than any of the kisses they’d had before. They were drowning, their only hope at salvation one another as they clung to each other with all the strength they had.

Azriel didn’t want to let her go. He knew once he did that it would be over. His month of bliss, of final contentment, would be over. Part of him wished Nesta had never opened her mouth, or that he’d been able to tell the truth, but all of him wished that he was someone else, or that he was more like his brothers, so that he was good enough for her.

When they finally stopped kissing, it was not so she could leave. They still clung to each other, breathing in each other’s scents, well into the night.

When she whispered goodbye, part of his soul left with her as she walked away.

He lied to her by staying silent. He should have told her the truth, that what he was feeling went deeper than affection, maybe even deeper than love. But this lie protected her, and he would take it to his grave.