#half-truth half-lie i could muster

[echo-s-land]

Someone told me that he 'like hanging around with me' and he 'love my smile' today

[reilemon]

𔘓 Let's Break Up, Sylus! 𔘓

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ Reason for the breakup? You got tired of chasing Sylus’ shadow.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ cw: brief mention of blood and wounds

♡︎ tags: angst, fluff, smut, dry humping, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms

♡︎ word count: 6.5k

♡︎ a/n: idk, i don't like how i wrote the breakup fics, but i'd feel bad if i never posted them. so, if you don't like how i wrote this, especially the breakup part, then pls don't say anything.

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @anitalenia

The faint hum of the car does nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only serves as a reminder of today’s plans, the source of your anxiety. You sit in the driver’s seat, the plane tickets trembling slightly in your hands. You glance toward the house—the lights shining through the bedroom window suggests he woke up. You exhale slowly, staring at the tickets again.

This isn’t how you imagined your vacation. This was supposed to be your time to recharge, to take a step back from the chaos of work, but instead, you’re about to board a plane to a place you hadn’t even known existed. All because you couldn’t stay behind.

The irony isn’t lost on you. Hunters aren’t passive. The words you planned to say to him when he sees you holding up the tickets, rehearsed in your head with all the conviction you could muster. But now, sitting here in the quiet, you can’t help but wonder if bravery is just a mask for recklessness.

Would it really have been so terrible to let him go alone this time?

Your gaze drifts to the empty passenger seat.

Did he expect you to follow him?

You glance at your reflection in the rear-view mirror, the faint circles under your eyes a proof to the sleepless nights that have become all too familiar. Staying behind would’ve meant another string of those nights—lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was alive, injured, or worse.

But this... this is no better.

The front door of the house creaks open, and you sit up straighter. Sylus steps out, his tall frame moving with its usual confidence, his silver hair catching the early light. He looks like he always does—calm, in control, untouchable. And you’re supposed to be the same.

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The room is dimly lit, the single overhead bulb flickering faintly like it might give out at any moment. The walls are bare, the furniture is sparse and the air is heavy. The faint metallic tang of blood lingers, mixing with the sharp bite of antiseptic.

Sylus sits on one of the chairs, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, his shirt discarded and tossed over the backrest. Blood-stained rags lie on the table beside him. His torso is marred with fresh cuts and bruises, deep gashes standing out against the taut muscle of his abdomen. You kneel in front of him, wrapping clean bandages around his ribs. Your forearm is already bandaged—a sloppy, hurried job. He’d insisted you patch yourself up first, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The quiet between you is oppressive. The only sound is the rustle of bandages and the faint hum of the overhead light.

Sylus watches you carefully. Usually, by now, you’d be berating him for getting hurt, but he knows that you always mask your worry with irritation. Or you’d be recounting the mission in vivid detail, your energy buzzing with lingering adrenaline. But tonight, you’re silent, your gaze focused on the task at hand, not meeting his.

“You’re quiet tonight.” he says.

You don’t look at him, your fingers securing the bandage. “I’m tired,” you reply curtly, your voice flat.

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it. He stays still, letting you finish your work, though his gaze never wavers.

Your mind won’t stop racing. The mission plays over and over in your head, the close calls, the mistakes, the weight of Sylus’ injuries.

“There.” you say quietly, standing up and turning away to gather the discarded rags and put them into a plastic bag, your back to him as you fight to steady your breathing.

Behind you, Sylus shifts slightly in the chair, his eyes following you.

“You handled everything well.” he says, his tone soft, almost coaxing. “Better than well. You were incredible out there.”

You freeze mid-motion, your fingers still gripping the bag. You swallow hard, trying to stifle the frustration bubbling in your chest, but it’s too late. When you turn to face him, your expression betrays you.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “What’s that look for?” he asks with the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

You take a step closer, arms crossing over your chest. “Sylus, we barely made it out. I don’t think anything about this is ‘incredible’.”

His lips quirk in a wry smile. “A few scratches. I’ve had worse.”

That does it. “Wha - Do you even hear yourself? ‘A few scratches’?!”

His smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of confusion, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You didn’t even want me to know about this mission!” you continue, your voice rising. “I had to dig through your phone, beg my colleague for help, buy plane tickets, and then throw myself into danger just to keep up with you!”

Sylus’ jaw tightens, but his gaze stays fixed on you.

“And now you’re sitting here, acting like this is normal, like this is fine. Like it’s okay that we’re both bandaged up in the middle of nowhere!”

You don’t realize your hands are trembling until you feel the sting of your nails digging into your palms. Sylus stands, almost carefully stepping closer to you.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” he says, his voice low but firm.

“Too late for that,” you snap, your breath coming faster now. “Do you have any idea how exhausting this is? How much I—”

You cut yourself off, your throat too dry to continue. Your chest heaves, your heart pounding as you glare at him.

Sylus stays silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he speaks. “You didn’t have to come with me. You could’ve stayed behind.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Stayed behind? And what? Spent another week staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’re dead or alive?” You take in a shaky breath. “I didn’t come because I wanted to, Sylus. I came because the alternative was worse. It’s always worse.”

His expression falters for a split second, a flicker of something—surprise? Hurt?—crossing his face before it hardens again. “I knew you could handle it. I’ve always seen you as capable—more than capable.”

“And that’s part of the problem!” you fire back, your voice trembling now. “You always expect me to be right there, don’t you? Always catching up, always bending my life to fit yours. Do you know how exhausting that is?”

For the first time, Sylus doesn’t have a ready response. The argument stumbles into silence. The adrenaline of your frustration fades, leaving behind an aching exhaustion.

“I can’t keep doing this, Sylus,” you say quietly. “I can’t keep choosing you over everything else. Over my own sanity. Over my own life. I need to be on my own.”

His expression doesn’t change, but your eyes know his too well to be deceived – you know your words hurt him. He doesn’t argue, though. Instead, he steps toward you. You don’t pull away as he stops in front of you, his fingers brushing gently over your cheek. His touch is so tender that it takes everything in you not to lean into it.

“You’ll always have a place with me.” he murmurs.

His words pierce straight through you, and your chest tightens as you see the quiet acceptance in his gaze that makes it so much harder to walk away. Your throat constricts, but you manage a small nod. Stepping back, you feel the loss of his touch immediately, a hollow ache spreading through you as you turn to leave.

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Returning to work feels refreshing. That’s what you tell yourself. You smile through the questions about your bandaged forearm - “Just a stupid accident.” you brush them off with a rehearsed laugh and no one presses.

You take every mission they throw your way. You linger in the office long after everyone has left their desks, filing reports and analyzing cases until your eyes burn. When you’re not at work, you’re training. You work your body until your muscles shake, until your lungs burn. Exhaustion becomes your companion, the only thing that lets you collapse into bed.

And when you give your muscles a breather, you throw yourself into social plans. Nights at the bar with friends blur together into a haze of laughter and drinks. You keep the conversation light, deflecting whenever someone asks about your love life.

But you can’t always stop your mind from wandering.

On your walks through the city, where you tell yourself you’re just stretching your legs, just enjoying the scenery, the truth peeks through. You’re looking for him. A glint of silver hair in the crowd, the flutter of dark feathers overhead—anything that might mean Sylus is nearby. But he never is.

The frustration comes in waves, sharp and bitter. Sometimes it’s anger at him—for the secrecy, for the danger he seemed so at ease with. Other times, it’s anger at yourself. For following him. For leaving him. For caring so damn much. And yet, no matter how busy you keep yourself, the memories slip through the cracks. The way he’d call you ‘kitten’ in that smooth tone. The glint in his eyes when he teased you. The softness in them in the quiet moments. How he made you feel like you were the only person who truly mattered to him.

As the days pass, the routine becomes second nature. You throw yourself into missions, into nights out, into silence. The wound on your arm heals, but others linger. And no matter how much you try to move forward, his shadow remains.

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You lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling faintly illuminated by the light of the tablet beside you. It’s paused on some show you weren’t really watching. The air feels heavy tonight. You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, as if it could shield you from the thoughts creeping in, from the memories you’ve spent all day trying to push away.

Your focus is pulled towards your phone lying face down on the nightstand. You tell yourself to ignore it, to roll over and let sleep take you. But before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for it.

The screen lights up, the harsh glow making you squint. Your tired eyes take a moment to adjust, before your finger taps the messaging app. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t look for his name. But tonight, you can’t help it.

Tapping the thread, the messages he sent a week or two ago fill the screen.

“The flower finally bloomed.” [Attached: A photo of a vibrant red flower, its petals unfurling.]

You skim through the words you’d typed in response.

“It’s beautiful.”

Further down, there’s another message—a photo of the same flower, wilted and curling in on itself. “Guess I should’ve expected this.”

You never replied to that one.

You scroll up, searching for happier times. Your thumb slows as you reach an older picture—one of the two of you. Sylus has your cheeks squished in his big hand, your face pouting in mock annoyance. Your eyes linger on his face. You gaze at his soft, genuine smile – an expression only you had the privilege to see.

And then there’s the voice note.

Your finger hovers over the play button, your chest tightening as you debate whether to listen. You remember the moment clearly—Sylus had sent it during one of his missions. You press play - his voice is quieter than usual, but the smile in his tone is obvious:

“I’ll be back soon, kitten. Don’t get too comfortable without me.”

Your vision blurs as tears gather in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. Pulling the blankets tighter around yourself, you press your face into the pillow, letting the tears fall freely.

You lie there in the dim light, the sound of your own breathing filling the room as sleep creeps up on you. The tears dry slowly on your lashes, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade.

Eventually, exhaustion wins.

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Your breath fogs in the chilly air as you step outside a corner store, clutching a pack of noodles like a prize. You glance at the time on your phone and sigh. It’s late. Too late, actually, to be out in the cold hunting down instant noodles. But the craving wouldn’t leave you alone, not after the day you’ve had.

It had started early. You’d dragged yourself out of bed and decided to keep busy— run errands, go to the gym, deep clean the apartment. A pampering routine followed. Scrubbing the grime of the day away in a shower, leaving your skin soft and your mind momentarily calm. Wrapped in your fluffiest robe, smelling like heaven, you’d almost felt good.

Then the craving had started sometime after dinner. A silly little craving for a specific flavor of noodles you thought you had in your kitchen. You opened the cabinet and couldn’t find it, but you were determined, so you threw on a sweater and a pair of leggings and stepped out. The impulse led you further away from you building since your corner store didn’t have them.

Now, here you are.

You pass by the small park near your apartment, and your thoughts are more on getting home than on your surroundings.

But something catches your eye.

A figure with silver strands illuminated under the soft glow of a streetlamp. Your feet falter, your pulse quickening as your gaze zeroes in on him. Sylus.

He’s there, at the park, crouching with his arm extended toward a stray cat that eyes him warily. The sight is so achingly familiar —his careful, as-patient-as-possible approach, the way he stays still, letting the animal come to him. You don’t realize you’re staring, too focused on watching the scene unfold. The cat inches closer, sniffing cautiously at his outstretched hand. He murmurs something low, his voice too soft to hear from this distance. The sight is so disarming, so tender, that your chest tightens.

Slowly, you take a step forward, then another, careful not to startle the skittish animal. You approach from the side, your heart racing faster with each step. He must’ve sensed you before he sees you because his head tilts slightly, his attention shifting from the cat to you. His eyes meet yours, widening slightly in surprise. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The cat darts away, but you barely register it.

Sylus straightens to his full height.

“It’s been a while.” he says softly.

For a moment, you’re lost in his eyes – the tenderness his mesmerizing eyes hold when they’re on you.  You slightly shake your head as you catch yourself staring, your brain scrambling for a teasing remark, “I didn’t think you’d actually get the cat to—”

Your voice falters when you notice the cat again. It’s sitting a few feet away in the shadows, watching you and Sylus with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I think I scared it off.”

Sylus chuckles. “Don’t worry. I just wanted to feed it anyway.”

True to his words, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small can of tuna. He crouches again, flipping open the lid with ease. His eyes flick to your hands.

“Still on the hunt for those, I see.” he teases, nodding toward the noodles you’d been craving.

You chuckle, about to reply, when the faintest frown crosses his features. Your eyes dart to his hands, and you notice the thin red line on his finger, a bead of blood welling at the tip.

“You cut yourself.” you say with tone sharper than you intended.

“It’s fine.” he replies casually.

Sylus places the can on the ground before stepping back to let the timid cat approach. As expected, the cat approaches, its tiny nose twitching as it investigates the food. You’re about to smile at the sight, but your focus snaps back to him when you catch the bead of blood rolling down his finger. Before you even think about it, you step closer and reach for his hand.

“Let me see.” you say softly, taking his hand in yours.

His fingers are cool, the faint roughness of his skin familiar under your touch. You tilt his hand, inspecting the small cut. Sylus doesn’t say a word, but you feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his red eyes soften as he watches you carefully inspect the cut.

You clear your throat, letting go of his hand. “It’s not bad.” you murmur. “But it should be cleaned. And you’ll need a band-aid.” You glance around, as if a store might magically stay open just for you, but the quiet streets and locked doors tell you otherwise. Before you can stop yourself, the words slip out:

“You should come to my apartment.”

The moment the invitation leaves your lips, you freeze, realizing what you’ve just said. A habit developed of all the times you’ve patched him up before. And it still hasn’t died, no matter how much distance you’ve tried to put between you.

For a second, neither of you says anything. The cat crunches happily on its meal, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air.

Sylus tilts his head, studying you, then shrugs lightly. “If you’re offering.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him, convincing yourself it’s no big deal. He’ll come up, you’ll clean the cut, and he’ll leave. That’s it.

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Even though you were in your apartment minutes ago, now it feels completely different with Sylus standing in your entryway. You catch how he glances around, his eyes taking in every detail. Then he notices a particular pair of slippers near the door, and you quietly nudge them toward him with your foot.

“These are yours.” you murmur.

Without a word, he slips off his shoes and slides into the slippers.

You motion for him to sit on the sofa while you retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom. When you return, Sylus is already seated, relaxed as always, his eyes following your every move. Sitting beside him, you set the kit on the coffee table and take his hand in yours again. You focus intently on cleaning the small cut on his finger, trying to ignore the awkward silence. The alcohol wipe stings, and his hand twitches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. You press the band-aid over the wound carefully, your fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

"There," you murmur softly. "All done."

But neither of you moves. His hand lingers in yours, and when you glance up, his gaze is already on you. Sylus shifts slightly, leaning forward just enough to brush his knee against yours. He lifts his free hand, his knuckles grazing your cheek.

His voice, low and soft, breaks the silence. "Can I hug you?"

Your chest tightens, the lump forming in your throat almost unbearable, but you nod, and it’s all the invitation he needs. Sylus shifts closer, his arms wrapping around you carefully, as though you might slip away if he moves too fast. The warmth of him envelops you as you rest your hands on his back, your cheek pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt, taking in his scent. You press your lips tightly, willing yourself to remain calm, but a single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek before soaking into his shirt.  Sylus holds you tighter, his hand moving slowly, soothing you. Neither of you speaks, the silence filled only with the faint sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

When you finally pull back, his hands linger on your waist. His touch is light, uncertain whether you’ll allow him to keep holding you. His eyes trace the faint streak of wetness on your cheek, and with unbearable tenderness, his thumb brushes it away.

Your gaze flickers downward, just for a moment. A fleeting glance at his lips. But it’s long enough for him to notice.

With a quiet inhale, his thumb drifts, trailing from your cheek to your jaw, then lower—grazing your bottom lip. He hesitates there, his fingers barely pressing against your skin.

His eyes search yours before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitches, your heart hammering in your chest. A quiet sound escapes you—a barely audible hum of approval, “Mhm.”

He exhales, relief flickering in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch, just slightly, before he slowly, carefully, leans in.

His lips brush softly against yours, your breaths mingling. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer. You feel the faint tremble in his fingers as they press into the fabric of your sweater. Without thinking, your hands reach for him—trailing over his shoulders, up the curve of his neck, until your fingers slip into the softness of his hair. A low, faint hum escapes his throat, vibrating against your lips.

When he pulls back, just enough to break the kiss, his forehead rests against yours. His breath fans across your face, warm and uneven.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” he’s whispers, “I thought I could give you space, let you find peace without me, but—” His jaw tightens briefly, the muscles flexing as he searches for the words. “But every day felt wrong. I left a part of myself with you, and I don’t know how to be without it.”

His hands slide down to your waist, “I don’t know if I should ask you this, but - ” his gaze locks onto yours. “Can I stay a little longer?”

The lump in your throat doesn’t let up. You know why you left – how keeping up with his lifestyle has taken a toll on your mind and body. But you also know that the man, whose eyes are filled with adoration and reverence as he waits for your answer, is the sanctuary for your heart.

You nod, “I would like that.” You take in a shaky breath, your hands settling on his neck.

Sylus stills for a second, like he needs to make sure he heard you right. His grip on your waist tightens, and his breath hitches when you’re the one who closes the distance. He angles your face gently in his hands, his palms warm against your skin. His thumbs brush featherlight strokes along your cheekbones as he deepens the kiss. As though memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of your mouth, the way you melt against him. Then his hands find your waist again, pulling you closer until the hard plane of his chest presses against yours. You feel the faint shudder in his breathing, the tension in his body, like he’s holding himself back despite the way his lips devour yours. You sink into the kiss, your nails lightly grazing the back of his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch. But the hunger builds—his kisses growing deeper, needier.

His hand slides down, finding your thigh, his palm searing through the thin fabric of your leggings, the touch making your breath stutter as liquid heat pools low in your belly.

Sylus exhales sharply. “Tell me if this is too much.” he murmurs against your lips. His thumb strokes your thigh in small, soothing circles, a contrast to the possessive grip of his other hand still anchored to your waist.

You shake your head, pulling him back in. “It’s not,” you whisper, though deep down, there’s a flicker of hesitation.

Of course, he notices. He always does. He leans back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just this.”

Your fingers tremble slightly as they thread into his hair, tugging him back down. You kiss him again—with more urgency, as though trying to chase away your own uncertainty. And then you move without thinking, shifting onto your knees as you swing one leg over his lap, straddling him. Sylus groans softly as you settle onto him, his hands sliding to your hips, holding you there, and you can feel his cock pressing against your clothed core.

His breath is a ragged exhale against your skin, his lips trail down the line of your jaw, his teeth grazing just enough to leave a lingering tingle. His lips settle on the side of your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin. You shudder, fingers tangling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as warmth floods through you.

And then your hips move, feeling the hard press of him against the damp heat between your legs, the delicious friction making Sylus groan in response. His hands slide up, slipping beneath your sweater, palms skimming the heated skin of your back. Then his hips shift beneath you, pressing up to meet you in a deep grind. The motion sends a shock of pleasure straight to your core, your hands holding onto his shoulders as heat coils tighter inside you. His hands go back to your hips, guiding your movements, keeping you anchored to him as you find a rhythm together.

His lips unlatch from your neck, shifting his attention to you, watching every flicker of pleasure on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

The way he’s looking at you, the way his body moves with yours—it’s too much, too good, and the coiling pressure in your core tightens too fast. Your nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, your thighs trembling against his hips. You try to slow down, to savor it, but the pleasure builds too quickly.

The orgasm hits out of nowhere. A soft, breathless cry tumbles from your lips and your body tightens, your hips stuttering against him as the pleasure rolls through you.

Sylus stills beneath you, his grip steadying you, his breathing uneven as he watches you come undone. His expression is both hunger and devotion. The corner of his lips tugs into a small smile.

The heat creeps up your cheeks as the mortification sets in. Your heart still racing, you bury your face against his shoulder. “I— I didn’t mean to—”

His hands are already sliding up, cradling your back. His voice is low, soothing. “Don’t,” he whispers, his lips brushing over your temple. “I’ve missed seeing you like this.”

His hands drift lower again, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. His mouth moves down, lips grazing your ear.

"Can you give me one more?"

Your cheeks flush at the question, the residual buzz of your climax still tingling through your limbs. You answer by shifting your hips, experimentally rolling them forward. The motion pulls a deep, guttural groan from his throat, and the sound alone makes your core tingle.

"That's my girl." Sylus rasps.

He starts a rhythm for you, his grip firm enough to steer you but loose enough for you to take control if you wish. The friction is delicious, his cock pressing against your soaked underwear through the fabric of his pants, creating just enough pressure to. The layers of clothing feel like a tease, amplifying every grind, every roll of your hips.

"You're so sensitive." he murmurs, his gaze never leaving your face.

His words make you shiver, spurring you on to move faster, your hips gaining a mind of their own. You can feel his breath on your neck as he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear.

"I want to hear you again." he whispers, teeth grazing the delicate shell of your ear.

Your body reacts instinctively, your pace faltering as you gasp, the coil of pleasure winding tighter with each roll of his hips. Sylus doesn’t let you lose the rhythm, his hands guiding your hips again.

"Let go for me." he urges, his voice a low rumble.

His words, combined with the perfect grind of his body against yours, tip you over the edge. A broken moan escapes your lips as the pleasure crashes through you once more. Your thighs tremble, your body arching as you cling to him, his name spilling from your lips. He groans as his grip tightens on your hips as he presses you down against him, drawing out every last pulse of your orgasm. His gaze locks onto yours, as he watches you come apart in his arms.

You slump forward, panting against him, your forehead brushing his shoulder as your arms wrap around his neck. His hands roam your back now, soothing as you catch your breath. You can feel the tension radiating from his body, the rigid line of his cock still pressing against you.

"Better?" he murmurs.

Your body feels like jelly, but you crave more. With a shaky exhale, you nod, nuzzling your face against his neck, the gesture earning a soft chuckle from him. You give yourself a moment to catch your breath before you sit up and move. Sylus doesn’t take his eyes off you as you stand from his lap, following your hands as they grip the hem of your sweater, lifting it over your head to reveal your bare skin. The soft glow from the living room lamp caresses every curve of your body, and his lips part slightly as he drinks in the sight of you. You hesitate briefly, heart pounding, before your fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings, sliding them down with your panties in one smooth motion, and now you stand completely bare before him.

Sylus leans forward, his breath warm as it fans over your skin. His gaze trails up your body, lingering for a moment, before settling on your face.

“You’re breathtaking.” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp.

You don’t have time to respond before his hands settle on your thighs. His lips brush against the curve of your hip, tender and sweet. He shifts forward, kissing the crease of your thigh, then above your pelvis, the attention making your knees weak. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, gently urging you closer.

He turns around to push stray pillows off the sofa, before turning back to you, “Come here,” he says. “I want to taste you.”

Your breath hitches at the words, but you follow his lead. Sylus lies back on the sofa, his hands guiding your hips to straddle him, your knees settling on either side of his head. For a moment, you hover above him, your nerves fluttering. But you find reassurance when Sylus looks up at you with a gaze so utterly devoted as he places a kiss on your inner thigh.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly as he guides you down.

A soft gasp leaves your lips at the first stroke of his tongue against you wet folds. You grip the backrest with one hand, while the other one finds purchase in his hair and he pulls you closer, burying himself between your thighs. His tongue moves with expert precision, swirling and dipping, but then his nose presses against your clit, catching it just right, and a shiver bolts through you. The unexpected pressure makes your hips twitch, grinding against him instinctively. His tongue continues to lap at your entrance, tasting your juices, and the wet sounds of his mouth against you filling the room. You let yourself move, rolling your hips, the rhythm dragging your clit against the firm bridge of his nose while his tongue explores deeper, delving into you with an unrelenting hunger. Even lost in the haze of pleasure, you keep some of your weight off him, careful not to press down too hard.

“Sylus…” you whimper, the sound breathless, desperate.

He groans against you, the vibration coursing through your body and making you moan louder. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you steady but letting you control the movement, as though he relishes the way you’re using him to find your pleasure. Each grind sends sparks of ecstasy shooting through you, the friction of his nose against your clit and the way his tongue delves deeper, fucking you in shallow, filthy thrusts. He shifts slightly beneath you, the angle of his face changing just enough to hit a perfect spot, and your legs tremble as you chase another release, rolling your hips harder.

“Fuck - ” you gasp, your hands clutching the sofa like a lifeline.

Sylus hums again, his tongue and nose working in tandem to drive you higher, his hands kneading your thighs, encouraging you to let go completely. And you do.

You come with a shattered cry, hips jerking erratically as he drinks every pulse, every flutter, his grip tightening to keep you from pulling away from the overwhelming high. Your body slumps forward slightly, panting, thighs quivering as you try to gather yourself. But Sylus doesn’t give you time to recover. One moment, you’re perched above him, gasping in the aftershocks of your release, and the next, you’re on your back, the shift leaving you momentarily stunned.

You barely get the words out before his lips crash with yours. The moment your tongue brushes his, the taste of yourself coats your mouth. A shiver rolls through you, your thighs instinctively tightening around his waist. Sylus lets you kiss him like this, lets you taste what he’s done to you, but when your teeth graze his lower lip, teasing, claiming—his control finally breaks. Without breaking eye contact, he sits up just enough to swiftly take off his shirt before his lips are back on yours.

You hear the sound of his zipper, his hips shifting as he frees himself. His cock brushes against your drenched folds, the thick length sliding through your slickness, coating himself in your arousal. A shudder runs through both of you at the contact, the anticipation stretching unbearably between you.

Sylus exhales shakily, his forehead pressing against yours. “Can I finish inside?”

Without hesitation, you nod, your voice trembling as you whisper, “Yes... please.”

Sylus aligns himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and he takes his time, pushing in slowly, watching your expression. The stretch is deliciously intense, every inch of him filling you, making your walls clench around him. A strangled groan escapes his throat as he bottoms out, his cock twitching inside you. His forearms cage you in, the heat of his body surrounding you as he rests his forehead against yours.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep, dragging along every nerve inside you. But even with his languid pace, just the feel of your pussy already has him trembling. You feel him pulse, his hips stuttering as he groans your name, his body shuddering above you. Sylus buries himself as deep as he can, his cock throbbing as his release spills inside you. The warmth spreads, and you can feel every pulse of his cock as he collapses slightly against you, his breathing heavy, his lips brushing your neck.

But he doesn’t stop. Even as his hips jerk with the aftershocks of his first orgasm, he keeps moving, his cock still hard, still sensitive, as he rocks into you with slow thrusts.

“I can’t get enough of you.” he murmurs against your ear.

The sensation of his thick length moving inside you, now slick with his warm release, sends waves of delirious pleasure through you. Your hands cling to his shoulders, your nails pressing into his skin as his pace begins to pick up again. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper, and his name tumbles from your lips in breathless gasps. Sylus leans down, capturing your lips in a messy, desperate kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his hips snap against yours. The pressure builds rapidly inside you, your body arching into his as his cock hits every perfect spot, the wet sounds of your connection filling the room.

“I missed you.” you finally confess, your voice trembling as the words spill out between moans.

Sylus freezes for a heartbeat, his eyes searching yours, his thrusts faltering as your words hit him. “Say it again.” he demands softly, his lips brushing against yours as his hips begin to move faster.

“I missed you.” you repeat breathlessly.

His rhythm grows erratic, his breaths ragged as his second orgasm builds rapidly. His hips slam into yours, his cock throbbing inside you as he grips your hips tightly.

“Fuck - I’m gonna—” His words cut off with a strangled groan as he thrusts into you one last time, his release flooding you again. The sensation of him filling you, paired with the grind of his pelvis against your clit, pushes you over the edge, your walls clenching around him as your fourth orgasm tears through you.

Your breaths mingle as both of you come down from your highs. Sylus doesn’t move right away, his cock still buried inside you as you both lie tangled together on the sofa, your limbs wrapped around him tightly. His weight presses into you, grounding, comforting, his body a welcome warmth against yours.

His lips brush against your temple first, then your cheek, and finally your lips. There’s no urgency now, just a gentle savoring. His hand cups your face, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he pulls back slightly.

"I never want to lose you again," he murmurs, the sincerity in his tone making your chest ache. "I was a fool for not seeing how much you were struggling. I took your strength for granted and thought you didn’t need me to change."

You swallow hard, unshed tears stinging your eyes. Your arms tighten around him instinctively, your fingers threading through the damp strands of his hair. He meets your gaze, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

"I’m more than willing to compromise," he continues. "Whatever it takes. I don’t care if it means slowing down, changing plans, or letting you set the pace. Just... please. I need you."

A lump forms in your throat as his words sink in. The dam of emotions you’ve been holding back all night begins to crack, a single tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. Sylus notices immediately. His thumb brushes the tear away, his touch featherlight.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, though there is a small tremble in your voice when you whisper. “I need you too."

Relief washes over his face, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile as he leans down to kiss you again, his hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in his world. The kiss lingers, his lips moving against yours with tenderness that leaves no room for doubt. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, "Thank you."

You smile softly, your heart swelling as you gaze up at him. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest begins to lift, replaced by the tender hope cradling your heart.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

@totallytaurus4 @ladyparamount @solifloris @withering-dream @yumii-34 @sapphic-daze @feuilledelis @cheesemachine44 @codedove @curiositykilledthecatx3 @sarangdipity @grabby-smitten

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — fucking your enemy doesn't really sound like a good plan or wait, maybe it does! <3

warnings — enemies to lovers, fingering, playful childe, fem! reader

childe always approaches you with that damn smirk on his face, his gaze intense and unwavering, a sprinkle of confidence playing on his lips.

the harbinger had always been your enemy, the embodiment of danger and excitement, and despite the many battles the both of you had fought, you couldn't lie to yourself but admit that there was an undeniable pull between you— a connection you refused to acknowledge, even to yourself at times.

"ah, you fought well today," childe's was barely out of breath as he throws his hands up in the air to feign defeat, his voice low and husky, a dangerous edge to his tone, "but you're not as strong as you think you are, heh."

without batting your lashes, you glare back at him with your body tense of anger, every single nerve inside on edge, "—and you're still as arrogant as ever, childe."

fuck, how much he adored it whenever you showed him a little of your sweet temper, it's a little salty too but he doesn't mind that— in fact, it gets him going and arouses something deep below.

naturally his smirk widens the moment you say it, his eyes darkening with something far more primal that he'd originally let on, "me? arrogant? oh am i? or am i just confident?"

you roll your eyes and before you could even find a good enough response, he instantly closes the distance between you in a swift stride— without haste, folding your spirit in half with his presence becoming overwhelming.

in an attempt to turn around and leave his hand grabs towards your arm, gripping your wrist with a surprising gentleness that was never experienced before by you, yet with the strength you've known far too well, one that left no room for escape.

"you think you can hide it from me? i can see it in your eyes, you know," he murmurs underneath his heightened breathing, slanting towards your face closer and closer until you could feel his warm breath against your ear, "the way you look at me, you see? the way your body reacts when I'm near like that— ugh, you're so shy, but I know you've been dreaming about this, as have i, or haven’t you?"

your heart races at the absurdity in his sentence— or was there even a sprinkle of a lie inside of it? how long until you cannot run from the feelings you harbored for him anymore? or was it simply lust that kept the drive inside of yourself working.

a mixture of fear yet also excitement floods your senses— you really wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the truth was, his words struck a deep chord within you, you're doomed and yes, in fact, you had dreams about him— of feeling him inside you, feeling his cock twitch and thicken while he's grinding himself in you, fucking your tight cunt as the fantasies of surrendering to the raw, forbidden desire consumed you.

you knew he must be good in bed, amazing even, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't with that striking personality of his.

"cut the crap childe, i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer back, but my dear, don't you hear? your voice betrayed you just this second, right in front of his eyes as you began to tremble with the weight of your secret longing dying to be set free.

"oh? but i think you do," he whispers before saying your name so sensually that it felt like someone's set your body on fire.

the man continues as his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck;

"you've wanted this for so long, right? this—"

and before you could muster a response, his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss that made your brain rewire, the touch of his lips strong and ruthless as one hand slid up to cup the back of your head, holding you firmly in place.

you weren't surprised by how childe kissed you, in fact, you imagined how it felt like— granted, it was better than you originally fantasized.

the kiss was rough, as if he was looking for an answer, and it shattered the last bit of your very resistance as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body igniting with a fire you had tried so hard to suppress— yet, was it actually bad that you went against your own beliefs? just this once?

of course, you both were on different sides, supporting different agendas but this— fuck, this, it felt so good, why was the darkness childe expelled so mesmerizing? like biting into a poised apple and still relishing in getting tainted?

the harbingers hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he had every right to do this and his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine before he pushed you against the cold stone wall, the contrast between the cool surface and his heated skin only heightening your needful senses.

although before going further, he abruptly stopped the kiss, at last lapping across your bottom lip and seeking your gaze, "tell me you want this, i need this," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising energy, "tell me you've dreamed of this moment too."

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt the grip on you tighten. each one of his touch, his breath hitting your skin and his words played into your beating heart and you couldn't, you just weren't able to stop your body from liking this.

your back arches a little as to show him without words, without needing to admit it— right now, you weren't sure if you could ever say it out loud.

like snowfall, his touch was cold, but it felt oddly comforting.

but you let him move forward as one hand slips beneath your clothes, finding your wetness between your thighs, your folds messed up and puffy for him. "childe i— i... i want this too," you admit against your own volition, the words tumbling out before you could even stop them, "i’ve dreamed of you, childe, maybe..."

you got him now— or, does he have you wrapped around his finger instead? regardless, his eyes blaze with a glistening triumph hanging over his irises as he captures your lips again.

he begins slowly, his fingers working around your hole with expert precision, circling your entrance and collecting your slick with such precision which you originally only knew of his ways of fighting as he coaxes out every inch of your pleasure.

you're writhing and hiding your moans into his chest, the volume of your whimpers growing when he pokes one finger in.

with a growl, he rips your shirt aside to expose your breasts, the fabric tearing in his haste— and before you knew it, his own jacket followed as you helped discard them quickly.

"look at me," he commands, "feel how i touch you there," as his voice resembles a rough whisper.,"i want to see the look in your eyes when i touch and touch you,"

you obeyed, meeting his gaze, your breath hitching as he thrusts one finger into you with a single, powerful flick forward.

the sensation was immediately overwhelming, not due to the fact that he was beginning to stimulate your hole with fast thrusts of his digit fucking in and out of you but the sole thought of childe doing it was the final nail in the coffin.

your heart was beginning to hurt from riding his fingers, furiously rattling against your ribcage as you threw out the last amount of dignity you had inside your body, becoming one with the movements of his hand before starting to seek it.

his wet tongue drags from your neck towards your collar bones before reaching your nipples, immediately taking one in his mouth as the heel of his hand began to press into your clit painfully hard, the feeling only multiplying when you shoved yourself into it more, better and deeper, until your body flashes you with a heat you cannot escape.

one more finger, more, and each pump turned rougher and moredemanding with the pace of his hand being relentless, cruel as you almost climaxed by just looking at him— how his wet lips left a trail of saliva on your slicked chest and ugh, that delirious glimmer in his eyes. 

childe truly likes the feeling of you clenching around his knuckles, he might become addicted to it, and he believes he'd actually die a happy man if he'd be able to feel you squeeze around his thick cock like that.

but you have to do it just like that, with your pussy drooling over his desperately and touch depraved, so he could taste you right after, yeah? have you all around his tongue.

he's not sure if he can even fit inside, ah, how excited he gets when he imagines your eyes glow and turn all big and pretty when he lets you see him from below his clothes— he knows for a fact he will make it fit.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[srslyblvck]

── SECRET KISSES, remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

synopsis: you were sirius’ cousin. remus was his best friend. secrets like that were bound to explode.

genre: fluff

warnings: kissing, making out

word count: 1.5k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ REMUS LUPIN WAS A man of composure—or at least, he liked to think so. But when you yanked him into an empty classroom, all thoughts of self-control went flying out the window.

You moved swiftly, pushing him against the cold, unforgiving stone wall with surprising force. His back hit it with a thud, and before he could even muster a protest, you had him pinned.

“Hello, Lupin,” you purred, a wicked smirk curving your lips as you planted a hand on his chest.

Remus blinked, flustered. Your presence was intoxicating, your dark robes and air of cool detachment a sharp contrast to the fire dancing in your eyes.

“Y/N,” he stammered, his heart racing. “Do you have to keep doing this?”

“Yes,” you replied matter-of-factly, leaning in closer. The corner of your lips twitched in amusement at his flustered expression. “It’s fun.”

“I’m starting to suspect you enjoy scaring me half to death,” he muttered, trying to maintain his composure.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Not scaring you. Surprising you. There’s a difference.”

Before he could respond, your hand trailed from his chest to his collar, tugging lightly on his tie. Remus swallowed hard, his brain scrambling to form coherent thoughts.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a dangerous softness.

“I haven’t been—”

“Don’t lie to me, Lupin,” you interrupted, cutting him off with a raised brow. “You’re terrible at it.”

He let out a resigned sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve just… had a lot on my plate.”

“Always so responsible,” you teased, stepping closer until there was almost no space between you. “But you’re here now. So stop running away.”

Something in his chest twisted at your words. The truth was, he hadn’t been avoiding you intentionally—well, not entirely. The weight of his secrets, the fear of being caught, the anxiety of you realizing you deserved far better than a half-blood werewolf… it gnawed at him constantly.

But standing here, looking at you now, he realized how futile those fears were. You always sought him out. And he was powerless to resist.

Suddenly, Remus’s instincts took over. With a quick movement, he flipped your positions, pressing you against the wall.

Your eyes widened for a split second before narrowing with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice light with mock approval. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

His hands found your waist, holding you firmly in place, while his other hand rested near your head, caging you in. He leaned in, close enough that your noses almost touched.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he quipped, his lips quirking into a rare smirk.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, I know you, Lupin. You’re far too polite to—”

“Far too polite to do what?” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

Your confidence wavered for the briefest moment, and he caught it.

“This,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

The sheer boldness of the move caught you off guard, and before you could stop yourself, a laugh bubbled up from your throat.

“Remus,” you said between giggles, shaking your head. “That was absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” he repeated, his tone mock-offended. “I thought it was rather dashing.”

Your laughter grew louder, and you tried to muffle it with your hand. But before you could succeed, Remus clamped his own hand over your mouth, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Y/N, shh! Do you want Filch—or worse, Sirius—to find us?”

Your shoulders shook with laughter, your muffled giggles vibrating against his palm. When he finally removed his hand, you took a deep breath, calming yourself.

“You’re lucky I find you charming,” you said, your smirk returning.

“Lucky doesn’t begin to cover it,” he replied, his voice soft but sincere.

The two of you lingered for a moment, the world outside forgotten. Then, with a glance at the clock, you sighed.

“We both have classes,” you said reluctantly, stepping away.

As you moved toward the door, you turned back, leaning in to plant a feather-light kiss on his lips. It was brief but enough to leave him dazed.

“See you later, Lupin,” you murmured, your voice tinged with affection.

Before he could respond, you were gone, slipping out of the room like a shadow.

The next time you and Remus met, the classroom felt like your own little world. Your lips were on his, your hands tangled in his hair. His bag slid from his shoulder, hitting the floor with a soft thud as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Y/N,” he murmured between kisses, though he made no effort to stop you. “This isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Then stop me,” you challenged, your voice low and teasing.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let himself sink into the moment, his fingers curling into the fabric of your robes as if anchoring himself to you. The world outside faded to nothing—until the sound of the door creaking open snapped it back into focus.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?!”

Remus froze. You froze. Both of you turned slowly, dread pooling in your stomachs.

Standing in the doorway were James, Peter, and Sirius, their expressions a chaotic mix of shock, disbelief, and (in Sirius’s case) pure, unadulterated horror.

James’s jaw dropped, and his glasses slid down his nose as he stared at the two of you. Peter looked like he might faint from laughing, while Sirius clutched his chest like he’d just been stabbed.

“YOU’RE SNOGGING MY COUSIN?” Sirius bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. “MY COUSIN?”

Remus groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. “Oh, Merlin.”

James recovered first, a smug grin spreading across his face. “I knew it!” he crowed, turning to Peter. “Pay up, Wormtail!”

Peter, still giggling, fished a handful of Sickles out of his pocket and handed them over. “Worth every Knut,” he muttered, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Sirius ignored them entirely, his gaze fixed on you and Remus like they’d committed the ultimate betrayal. “I—I can’t believe this. Remus! My best friend! And Y/N! My sister! Have you both lost your minds?”

You crossed your arms, raising a single, unimpressed brow. “Calm down, Sirius. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Not that big a deal?” he repeated, his voice climbing to an almost comical pitch. “You’re my cousin! And Moony’s supposed to be the sensible one!”

“Clearly, I’m full of surprises,” Remus muttered, though the flush on his face betrayed just how mortified he was.

James, meanwhile, was leaning against the doorframe, absolutely delighted. “Honestly, Pads, this is the best thing that’s ever happened. Your cousin and Moony! This is gold.”

“Gold?!” Sirius sputtered, his face reddening by the second. “This is a betrayal! This is treachery! This is—”

“Drama,” you interrupted, cutting him off.

“Drama?” he echoed, looking at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Yes,” you said coolly, stepping forward. “You’re being dramatic. And if you keep this up, Sirius, I’ll tell everyone about the time you cried because you got lost in the hedge maze at Aunt Druella’s garden party.”

James choked on his laughter, doubling over and clutching his sides. “Wait, wait—you cried?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. “Sirius, you cried in a hedge maze?”

“I WAS EIGHT!” Sirius roared, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Remus, who had been valiantly trying to melt into the floor, couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. James, still wheezing, clapped Sirius on the back.

“Come on, Pads,” James said, grinning ear to ear. “You’ve got to admit, they make a good couple. Bit of a power move, really. Your cousin snagging Moony and keeping it a secret? That’s impressive.”

“It’s infuriating,” Sirius snapped, glaring at you and Remus in turn. “How long has this been going on?”

You exchanged a glance with Remus, your smirk growing. “Almost a year,” you said casually.

“A year?” Sirius yelled. “You’ve been sneaking around behind my back for a YEAR?!”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you replied, arching a brow. “You’re not exactly the most observant.”

Peter finally managed to catch his breath long enough to chime in. “This explains why Moony always looks so… happy lately.”

Remus groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Absolutely not,” James said cheerfully.

You patted Remus’s arm consolingly before turning back to Sirius. “Relax. It’s not like I’m marrying him. Yet.”

That set Sirius off again, sputtering incoherently as you leaned up to plant a quick kiss on Remus’s cheek.

Sirius gagged dramatically. “No! No kissing in front of me!”

You smirked, walking toward the door. “Then maybe you should leave.”

James slung an arm around Sirius’s shoulders, still grinning. “Come on, Pads. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s the end of my world,” Sirius muttered, looking utterly defeated.

Peter tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “So… does this mean I have a shot with Narcissa?”

Sirius spun around so fast that Peter yelped, darting behind James for cover.

“I WILL END YOU, WORMTAIL!”

The commotion echoed down the corridor as James howled with laughter, and Remus leaned against the wall, shaking his head with a bemused smile.

And so, the secret was out—and Sirius would never recover.

[sukiyurii]

Tension

(NSFW! Caitvi x reader, f!reader, AFAB!reader)

(praise, oral sex, strap-on sex, all!receiving, bottom!reader, bottom!vi)

wc: ~4.7k

Caught in a little lie between Vi and Caitlyn, they use your own inability to conceal your feelings against you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚Because you and Vi were practically inseparable up until she was kidnapped, it was only natural that when the two of you reconciled in Zaun, she brought you back to Piltover with her and Caitlyn.

This led to a lot of you and Caitlyn butting heads. She was still becoming accustomed to Vi’s rash behavior, so when you add your own attitude to the mix; she’s less inclined to receive it positively. Don’t mistake her difficulty for lack of effort, because she does try. She meets your sarcasm, snide remarks, and crude words with as much patience as she can muster. 

While you are utterly infuriating and manage to push every single button she has, she is still infatuated with you. She sees the way your eyes soften when you talk to Vi, especially if it’s about your memories growing up, or any of her other adoptive siblings. Seeing Vi vulnerable and unguarded is new, refreshing, and probably her favorite thing to witness now.

There’s equal attraction on any and all ends between the three of you, a general consensus that all of you are just so breathtaking it’s actually ridiculous. While Caitlyn had initially been hesitant to welcome you into her life, she quickly finds herself overly enthusiastic every time she spots you asleep on the velvet couch in her room. 

She’s currently watching you and Vi chat about something, unable to determine what it is in full. She cocks her head to the side as you lean forward and show Vi one of the newest scars your body adorns. It’s deep, jagged, and runs across your left forearm, it’s a truly nasty thing. Vi raises her hand to your arm and gently soothes a calloused thumb over the skin, a silent, sympathetic apology.

Caitlyn stands up from the desk in her room, abandoning the caseload that’s occupying the surface. She makes her way over to the bed, long legs striding quickly, eager to get close to both of you. She crawls onto the bed behind you and settles herself on your left side, bracing herself with her right arm on the opposite side of your back. 

She pretends not to notice the way your breath hitches slightly as she crowds your space, feigning innocence as she looks down at your arm as well. She moves her hand down to your forearm and runs her fingers over the scarred skin, her own fingers dancing with Vi’s as they map out the old wound. 

“It used to really bother me, like… the sight of it,” you explain quietly, earning a few slow nods of understanding from the other two women. “What changed?” Caitlyn inquires gently, pushing your arm up slightly– an attempt to get a better look at it. You shrug, “I guess I… got used to it, I think,” you attempt to explain, but you really don’t have a solid answer. “Scars just kind of become a part of you, right? No reason to dwell on them forever, shit like that’ll make you miserable,” you conclude, giving both of them a faint smile. 

The two women let out a collective hum at your words, continuing to move their fingers over your arm. Vi adjusts herself and moves forward, brushing your knees together. 

The tension between all three of you truthfully could be sliced in half with the dullest knife a kitchen has to offer. Vi’s voice cuts through the air, “Why’re you so tense?” she asks quietly, noticing the way your shoulders had stiffened. The question becomes seemingly difficult to answer as you feel Caitlyn’s breath sweep over the back of your neck, her arm brushing against your back. 

“I– uh, I’m still just kinda sore from training yesterday,” you stammer in a half-truth. It is true that you were all dragged to hours worth of intense conditioning yesterday– still leaving you quite sore. But the reason that your body had tensed wasn’t due to your still aching muscles. It has everything to do with the fact that you can feel Vi’s calloused hands running over your skin and her pretty eyes trying to peer into your soul. Followed by Cait’s arm pressing into your back and her breath running down your neck. 

You feel Vi’s grip on your arm tighten ever so slightly, “You’re a really bad liar, y’know that?” She teases, voice dropping ever so slightly. You hear Caitlyn let out a quiet chuckle, followed by her slender fingers snaking their way up your right arm. “I–” you begin, but the words quickly fall short, almost as if you didn’t even know what you wanted to say to begin with. 

“What was that?” Vi coos quietly, a playful tone to her voice as she leans forward slightly, causing you to lean back reflexively. However, it only gets you so far as you further press yourself into Caitlyn’s awaiting, eager presence. Caitlyn lowers her head, placing her chin on your shoulder. 

The action causes your breath to hitch, causing  her to let out another quiet, amused chuckle. “Seems like we’ve made someone a little nervous,” she mumbles, her thick accent feeding through the air and rolling over your ears. You turn your head briefly as you feel her shift around, now sitting directly behind you. Her hands come up to your waist as she presses her chest to your back. 

You hear Vi’s soothing voice call back to you, “Is this okay, are you alright?” she asks, pulling your face back towards her gently with the side of her index finger. You nod quietly, still slightly awestruck of the situation. Vi shakes her head and says, “We need words from you, can’t just nod right now,” she says firmly, tilting her head curiously. 

“Yes, yeah, I’m good, this is okay,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. Both women let out a content hum at your consent, sharing a look that you can’t quite decipher. Well, you can’t decipher it until you feel Caitlyn’s hands untuck your button-up from your dress pants. You feel her long fingers rake over your skin gently, pushing her hands further up beneath your shirt. 

Vi cups your jaw with a calloused hand gently and leans forward, stalling briefly to look at your flushed face. She continues forward until your lips finally meet, causing you to short-circuit briefly. She lets out a quiet moan as you reciprocate her movements, your own hands reaching forward to brace themselves on her broad shoulders. 

You whine as you feel Caitlyn’s hands leave your skin, she shushes you gently as she moves them upwards and begins to undo the buttons of your shirt. She sits up on her knees further and presses her lips onto the side of your neck as her hands tediously work over the garment. You moan softly into Vi’s mouth, fingers tightening around her taut muscles. She reaches one of her hands up and cups the back of your head, pulling you forward, sliding her tongue in between your lips. 

Once Caitlyn has the buttons undone, she quickly shoves the shirt down your arms and moves her lips to your shoulder. She wraps her hands around your bra-covered breasts and squeezes eagerly, nipping down on the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You can feel her inhale sharply as you press your ass back against her front, languidly rolling your hips against her. “Ah– Cait,” you gasp, rewarding a soft moan from her.

You slide your hands from Vi’s shoulders down to the belt around her waist and unbuckle it, dropping it to the floor next to you. Your hands swiftly work along the enforcer jacket, popping the buttons as your hands work their way down. She pulls away from your lips and rests your foreheads together, panting as you push the jacket from her shoulders. “You’re so pretty, Vi,” you mumble, pressing a quick kiss to her jaw. 

Caitlyn pulls away from your shoulder before surging forward, capturing Vi’s lips with hers. You’re entirely sandwiched between the two women, reaching one arm behind you to hold the back of Caitlyn’s head. Your chest presses into Vi’s as you loll your head back onto Caitlyn’s shoulder, giving you the perfect angle to watch their lips dance together.

You place your hand up on Vi’s collarbones before slowly trailing it down her body, grinning eagerly as you hear her moan into Caitlyn’s mouth. You feel one of Caitlyn’s hands leave your breast and trail up to your jaw, holding it firmly. She pulls away from Vi, ignoring the way that she whines at the disconnection. She moves her other hand to the back of Vi’s neck, tangling her fingers into her hair. She tugs on it gently, relishing in the way Vi whimpers at the feeling. 

She keeps a tight hold on your jaw as she leans down and presses her lips to yours. The angle is awkward and sloppy, but she really can’t bring herself to care as she listens to you moan against her mouth. With both of you in her grasp she feels overwhelmingly powerful, elated by the way she makes both of you squirm. She pulls away, much to your disdain and pushes you forward by your upper-back gently.

You turn your head towards her and watch as she slowly begins to shed her own uniform. She grins as she watches both of your eyes widen at the sight of her now exposed skin. She pushes herself onto her hands and knees before crawling forward, settling back on her knees next to both of you.

You immediately tilt forward and attach your lips to her neck, palming at one of her breasts. She cards her fingers through your hair at the feeling and lets out a low moan, tilting her head back. You feel Vi place a hand on the band of your bra, quickly undoing it as she attaches her lips to Caitlyn’s collarbones. You slide your bra off of your shoulders before tossing it to the ground, immediately connecting your hand with Vi’s back– reaching for the end of the bandage wraps.

As you work to undo them, you fumble slightly, which elicits collective giggles from all three of you. Once you finally pull them away and drop them, you attach your lips to one of her breasts, sucking at the skin. “Oh, fuck,’ she whimpers, tightening her fingers in your hair. You feel Caitlyn come up behind your back again, reaching over you to grab at Vi’s other breast, and attach her lips to the stop of your spine. 

You pull away from Vi, looking up to meet her hungry, nearly feral gaze. She reaches up to grab your jaw firmly, giving you a sly smirk. “I know that you’re plotting something,” you tease, not missing the way that her eyes flick from yours, to Caitlyn. “Maybe I am,” she retorts, leaning forward to nip at your jaw, licking over it. 

Caitlyn continues to work her way down your spine, letting go of Vi so she can reach for the front of your dress pants, undoing them. Once they’re open, she slides her hand underneath the fabric of the pants and your underwear, rubbing gentle circles over your clit. 

She grins as you let out a guttural whine, pressing her fingers onto the sensitive bud harsher. Vi reaches for the waistband of your garments and tugs them down your legs, assisted by you. Caitlyn slides her fingers further down, teasing them over your lips. She readjusts, bracketing her long legs next to yours and wrapping an arm around your chest, holding your back to her chest.  

“Isn’t she so pretty, Violet?” she asks, eyes moving from her hand attached to you, to Vi’s. She notices the desperate look, the need that Vi has to touch you. “Yeah, she is,” she answers, sliding one of her own, large hands up your left leg. You shift and flush beneath the praise, whimpering as you feel one of Caitlyn’s fingers slide inside of you. 

You arch and squirm beneath their hands– resulting in Vi pinning your legs down as she lowers herself onto her stomach. She attaches her lips to the side of your thigh as Caitlyn continuously moves her finger inside of you, gently working in a second one. “Do you feel good?” she asks, obviously knowing the answer to her own question.

When you nod eagerly, rolling your head back onto her shoulder, she smirks down at Vim watching as the other woman kisses her way up your leg. “Tell me how good you feel, I wanna hear it,” she encourages, curling her fingers right against your g-spot. 

And as you attempt to stutter your words out, you feel Vi’s arms wrap underneath your legs and pull them over her shoulders. You fist her pink locks into your hands, keeping a firm, grounding hold on it.

“It– It feels really good,” you stutter, thighs tightening around her head as she continues to suck on the sensitive skin. “Tell me more,” she encourages, keeping a languid, teasing pace inside of you. “I’ve never felt this good before, like– like, it feels so much better than a-anything else,” you reply, whimpering as you feel Vi roughly bite onto your thigh. 

“I need more,” you plead, back arching violently. “We’ve got you, just relax, m’kay?” Vi mumbles, wrapping her hands around your hips. You nod and slump back into Cait’s awaiting form, letting them ravish you. Your eyes roll back as her fingers continuously curl inside of you, receiving borderline pornographic moans from you.

Caitlyn pulls her fingers out of you, chuckling as you whine loudly at the loss. Almost immediately after her fingers are pulled away, Vi attaches her mouth to your pussy, moaning lowly at the contact. “I’m gonna be right back, okay?” Caitlyn announces, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder before she peels herself away. You groan at the loss of contact, fully falling into the bed now.

Vi seizes the opportunity and moves over you with a new passion, using the position to her advantage. She sits up slightly and presses your thighs to your chest, keeping them pinned there with her rough hands. She sucks on your clit sloppily, nearly attempting to devour you. You tighten your hands in her hair and tug harshly, desperately trying to grind against her mouth, but finding your efforts useless. “Oh, fuck, Vi,” you moan. 

You hear the quiet commotion of Caitlyn shoving her pants and underwear down her legs, kicking them off to the side. She shuffles through a drawer, and you spare her a brief glance as you see the familiar sight of the pink and purple dildos, and black harnesses coming into view. You grin excitedly at the sight, earning a matching smile from Caitlyn. “Taking good care of our girl?” she asks Vi, trailing a lazy hand up her inked back as she comes up behind her. 

The woman between your thighs nods enthusiastically as she continues to work over your pussy, sighing contentedly as she laps up the salty liquid. You peer your eyes open, drinking in the sight of Caitlyn strapping one of the harnesses onto her lean hips. “She feels so good, Cait,” you whimper, clamping your thighs down around her head again. 

“Always so good at pleasing, isn’t she? Such a good girl,” Caitlyn coos, climbing back onto the bed, dropping the items onto the sheets. “C’mon, Violet, I want you undressed,” she murmurs, shoving your hands away from her head and fists her own into the tangled hair. She yanks Vi away from your core, both of you groaning at the loss. 

You watch Caitlyn tugs her head back and crash their lips together, moaning at the taste of you on her lips. Vi is up on her knees, braced on her hands and back arched– truly a sight anybody sane would kill to see. Caitlyn pushes her onto her back next to you, quickly working her pants and underwear down her thick thighs.

You turn over, attaching your lips to Vi’s messily, curling a hand around the side of her neck as you hold her in place. One of her hands reaches up to hold your forearm, and the other goes down to rub over her clit. She moans into your mouth loudly, hand tightening around your arm.

Caitlyn swats her hand away with a quiet “aht,” and she gets a pathetic whine in return. She shushes her gently before attaching the purple dildo to the harness resting on her hips. Vi reaches for the other harness and stands up, sliding the harness up and securing it firmly– actions a little more ungraceful as excitement thrums through her. 

All while this is happening, Caitlyn has settled herself next to you, trailing her hand back down your body. She connects your lips as her fingers make contact with your pussy again, sliding her fingers back inside. Vi catches you as your back arches at the contact, settling herself on your other side.

“Get on top of her,” Caitlyn mumbles against your lips, giving your thigh a light pat. You nod and comply immediately watching as Vi spits into her hand and rubs the slick over the silicone. 

“Y’ready?” she mumbles, keeping a supportive hand on your hip, and the other on the dildo attached to her hips. You give her an affirmative nod before bracing your hands on her chest, slowly lowering yourself onto the fake appendage. 

You both groan at the feeling, her hands tightening around your hips as she bucks her hips up further. Once she’s slotted inside of you completely, she gives you a firm pat on the ass. “Let’s go, pretty girl, move,” she commands, moaning as your hips immediately rock down on the fake cock. 

You let out a string of moans and curses as you bounce on-top of her, watching as her face flushes a deep pink and raspy moans leave her mouth. 

You feel a warm presence move behind you, “Does she feel good?” you hear Caitlyn ask, breath ghosting over your ear. You let out a guttural whimper and nod, rolling your hips down faster. “She feels really fucking good,” you answer, palming at one of Vi’s breasts. You rub your fingers over her nipple, pinching it softly– eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. 

“Could do this all fuckin’ day,” you continue, grinning down at Vi as you watch her muscles tense beneath you. She uses her strength to help guide your hips, now making eye contact with Caitlyn over your shoulder. 

“Spread your legs, Violet,” you hear her command, and feel the immediate compliance. The movement causes her to shift inside of you slightly, pulling another soft moan from your throat. 

Caitlyn slides her hand between Vi’s legs, thoroughly coating them in the wetness that had already pooled between her thighs. “Already so needy?” she teases, rubbing her fingers over her cunt before sliding two of them inside. 

Vi moans loudly, the feeling causing her hips to stutter in their movements. “Ah– Cait,” she stammers, hips now bucking up into you inconsistently. “What is it? Does it feel good, hm?” she questions, leaning in further. The action causes you to fall onto your forearms, one on either side of her head.  

You press your lips to her lips, locking them together intensely. It’s not long before you detach your lips from hers, moving them down to her jaw and neck. Her thrusts are weaker, but you meet her halfway, bouncing back down into her awaiting lap.

Caitlyn is now three fingers deep inside of Vi, her other hand wrapped around your hip.

“That’s it, baby, you got it. Make yourself feel good,” she praises, curling her fingers further inside of Vi. 

A few minutes later and you hear Vi’s breath hitch, and then a low moan escaping her lips as Caitlyn slides the silicone inside of her. Caitlyn tangles a hand into your hair and yanks your head back firmly, causing you to let out a guttural whimper as she pulls you against her. Your back is arching almost painfully, “Move faster, c’mon,” she whispers, nipping at the cartilage of your ear. She keeps a tight grip in your hair as you pick up your speed, “Yeah, there we go, feels so good doesn’t it?” She coos, craning your head back. 

Her free hand connects with Vi’s thigh as she moves her hips slowly, rolling down into her. “So beautiful, both of you– absolutely radiant,” she mutters, pressing another kiss to your ear, and then your shoulder. 

“Touch yourself, I want you to cum for me,” she encourages, voice raspy and the sentence comes out in subtle pants. You nod at her words, snaking a hand down to your clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ah– ah–” you whimper, followed by a blinding orgasm surging through you. You gasp and pant heavily, body and legs tensing with vibrations. Caitlyn wraps an arm around your chest and pulls you back against her, holding you tightly. “There you go baby, there it is, ride it out,” she says, helping coax you down gently from the high. 

Once you’re settled, she helps you pull off of Vi, gently guiding you to the bed. You immediately curl up next to the muscular woman, trailing your hand down to her chest, thumbing over her nipples. You attach your lips to her throat, pulling several moans from her chest. 

She moans loudly, fisting her hands into the sheets. “C’mon baby, I wanna watch your pretty face while you cum,” you murmur, rubbing faster circles over her. “Ngh– I, I–” she stammers, causing Caitlyn to hike her legs over her shoulders and fuck into her harder. Her hands pull Vi’s hips up, angling them higher so that the tip of the silicone rubs against her g-spot. Caitlyn presses their lips together in a sloppy kiss, drinking in all of Vi's moans.

You pull the attached dildo off and push the harness out of your way as much as you can. You rub your fingers over her clit, chuckling into her skin as she lets out a loud, guttural moan. You continue to kiss and suck along the skin of her throat, feeling the vibrations of every moan and whimper ripped from it. 

You feel her hand tangle into your hair as she lets out another chorus of moans and whimpers, “Please, please, please,” she whines. “You can cum, Violet, be good for us,” Caitlyn encourages, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her knee. Vi watches as a searing white light crosses over her eyes and the orgasm wracks through her, clinging onto you tightly. 

The orgasm crashes over her violently, legs tightening around Caitlyn’s neck. Left panting and gasping on her back, Caitlyn continues her ministrations– although a little slower. She gently lowers her legs from her shoulders and back to her waist, continuing to slowly rock her hips. Vi reaches out in overstimulation and attempts to push her hips away, before Caitlyn catches her hands and holds them gently. “I’m almost there, precious, I just need a minute,” she reassures, breathing coming out in rapid gasps as she nears the edge.

You rub a soothing hand up and down Vi’s abdomen, “It’s okay, you can do it, you can do it, baby,” you whisper into her ear, pressing soft kisses to face– successfully wiping the tears from them. 

Caitlyn’s orgasm washes over her intensely, causing her to collapse forward slightly– long hair hanging down. She catches herself on the bed, taking a second to breathe, before pulling away. She sheds the harness from her hips and gently works Vi’s out of hers. 

“I’m gonna go get a washcloth, okay? Will you be okay?” She asks, sliding a hand up both of your legs, soothingly. Once you both give her an affirmative nod, she walks towards the attached bathroom on shaky legs.

As she returns, she slides the damp, soft cloth over your body, pressing soft kisses against your skin. “Did so good for me, my love,” she mumbles, wiping some of the sweat from your forehead. “So, so beautiful,” she adds on, pressing her lips to your forehead. 

Once she retreats from your body, you immediately curl up against Vi, who in turn, wraps her arm around your back. Her other hand comes up to cradle your head gently. Caitlyn repeats the same process of muttering quiet praises and compliments to Vi, you pick up on a quiet, “Such a good girl, hm?” she mumbles, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

When she’s satisfied with Vi’s treatment, you and Vi reach out for her, and Vi takes the cloth from her hand. You both sit up slightly, adjusting to make it easier as you give her the same soft, gentle treatment. You press soft kisses on her abdomen and sternum as Vi swipes the cloth over her flushed skin– successfully cooling her off. “Always make us feel so good, you’re so beautiful,” you say, gently massaging the back of one of her thighs.

As you’re successfully cleaned off and sweat free, you climb beneath the soft, silken blankets. You’re pressed in between both of them, a sandwich that has truly been pulled out of one of your dreams. One of your hands is resting over Cait’s waist, the other laced with Vi’s as her arm is slung over your own. While the positions may not be the most comfortable, they keep all of you happy and satiated. 

taglist:

@tilwehittheheavens @halle5s

[gwendolynnderolo]

critical role ships as hozier songs

vax / keyleth : francesca

percy / vex : work song

pike / scanlan : foreigner's god

fjord / jester : nobody

beau / yasha : as it was

caleb / essek : from eden

imogen / laudna : NFWMB

orym / dorian : like real people do

ashton / fearne : dinner & diatribes

specific lyrics that i feel like represent the pairings under the cut!

vax / keyleth : francesca

how could you think, darling, i'd scare so easily?

my life was a storm, since i was born, how could i fear any hurricane?

if i could hold you for a minute, darling, i'd go through it again

it was too soon, when that part of you was ripped away

i would not change it each time, heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i

percy / vex : work song

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her

and i was burning up a fever, i didn't care much how long i lived

but i swear, i thought i dreamed her, she never asked me once about the wrong i did

if the lord don't forgive me, i'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

in the low lamplight, i was free, heaven and hell were words to me

pike / scanlan : foreigner's god

she moved with shameless wonder, the perfect creature rarely seen

her eyes look sharp and steady into the empty parts of me

wondering who i copy, mustering some tender charm

breaking if i try conveying, the broken love i make to her

fjord / jester : nobody

i'd be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a saint, i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave

but i've had no love like your love from nobody

if i had the choice between hearing either noise, the excitement of a thousand, or the soothing of your voice

and on the other side, why should we deny the truth? we could have less to worry about, honey, i won't lie to you

beau / yasha : as it was

and in a few days i will be there, love, whatever here that's left of me is yours, just as it was

the lights were as bright as my baby, but your love was unmoved

tell me if, somehow, some of it remains, how long you would wait for me and how long i've been away

the shape that i'm in now, your shape in the doorway, make your good love known to me or just tell me about your day

and the nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too

caleb / essek : from eden

there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?

honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

innocence died screaming, honey, ask me, i should know

there's something broken about this, but i might be hoping about this

a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

imogen / laudna : NFWMB

give your heart and soul to charity, cause the rest of you, the best of you, honey, belongs to me

ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves?

if i was born as a blackthorn tree, i'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies

ain't it the life of you, your lightning of the blaze?

orym / dorian : like real people do

i will not ask you where you came from, i will not ask and neither should you

i know that look, dear, eyes always seeking, was there in someone that dug long ago

honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do

ashton / fearne : dinner & diatribes

i knew well from our first hookup, the look of mischief in your eyes

your friends are a fate that befell me, hell is the talking type, i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight

honey, i laugh when it sinks in, a pillar i am, upright

now that the evening is slowing, now that the end's in sight, honey, it's easier knowing what you'd do to me tonight

oh, let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised and that kind of love

[iyoonjh]

Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 5: Re: I Am the Main Character?

wc: 2836 words, aprox 11 pages

The familiar bell chimed as she stepped inside, the cool air a relief from the lingering summer heat outside. She was wearing a cute off-white blouse and a mini denim skirt, mentally cursing herself for proving Jungwon right and dressing cute thinking about Soobin. 

The shop wasn’t busy—actually, it was almost empty. Except for three guys currently looking at her like she had just glitched into their dimension.

Beomgyu was sprawled over the counter like a cat in direct sunlight, a half-finished soda can beside him. Heeseung sat on a stool nearby, flipping through a manga but clearly not paying attention. And Soobin—poor Soobin—had just frozen mid-action, a stack of books in his hands, as if movement might scare her away.

Y/N hesitated. “Uh, hey?”

Soobin, in all his social grace, nodded stiffly. “H—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Beomgyu blinked. Then blinked again. Then leaned in toward Heeseung and whispered, "Is this a mirage?"

Heeseung, deadpan, whispered back, "If it is, it’s way too detailed."

Y/N smirked. “You guys know I can hear you, right?”

Beomgyu gasped dramatically. “Oh no, the mirage speaks.”

Heeseung sighed. “If this is our collective hallucination, it’s a pretty cool one.”

Soobin, still stiff as a board, set down the books and finally spoke. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Y/N shrugged, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah, I, um… just felt like dropping by.”

That was a lie. Well, not entirely, but it was only half the truth.

The real reason she was here—again—was burning a hole in her conscience. She still hadn’t paid him back for the manga.

She had realized it half way home last night, her stomach sinking later as she stared at the book lying innocently on her desk. She hadn’t even opened it yet because every time she looked at it, she was consumed with the mortifying thought: I literally stole from him.

Okay, maybe "stole" was a bit dramatic. He gave it to her, sure. But he worked here. That was still technically theft, right? And what if Soobin had noticed and just… didn’t say anything? Maybe he was too polite. Maybe he was internally raging about it.

The thought made her stomach twist even worse.

Therefore, she had one goal: pay Soobin back for the manga. That was it. A simple, reasonable, easy task.

So now, here she was, with sweaty palms, standing in the shop for the third day in a row, trying to muster the courage to bring it up.

Beomgyu narrowed his eyes. “On a Friday night?”

Y/N gave him a look. “Why does that sound illegal?”

Heeseung raised his hands in surrender. “Not illegal, just… unexpected.”

Soobin elbowed him lightly, giving him a subtle shut up look.

Y/N crossed her arms. “What, am I only allowed to come in on weekdays?”

“No, no,” Beomgyu backtracked. “It’s just—people usually have, like, plans on Fridays. Your phone is going crazy”

Y/N huffed a small laugh, checking her friend's group chat, where they were currently asking her if she was on her way to the bar –which, of course she wasn't and had no plans to ever be tonight. She quickly put her phone on silent mode and smiled. “Well, maybe I just think this is more fun than whatever else I could be doing.”

That shut them up real quick.

Soobin stared at her, brain buffering. Beomgyu slowly turned to Heeseung, who just raised an eyebrow like, are we in a fever dream?

Soobin, meanwhile, was spiraling for an entirely different reason.

She didn’t even realize she hadn’t paid for the manga, did she? If she had, she would’ve said something by now. Right?

Or maybe she did know and just… didn’t care? No, that wasn’t it. She didn’t seem like the type.

Maybe she just forgot.

He had thought about saying something when she left yesterday, but the words never left his mouth. And now? Now it felt way too late. If he brought it up, would she think he had been silently keeping track, waiting for her to return? Would she think he was weird?

Besides, he didn't even tell his friends Y/N dropped by last evening, again, couldn't bring himself to. He was so happy with how his afternoon went, despite being stolen from, that he decided to be selfish and keep the moment they both shared yesterday to himself. Treasure it, as if it was a once in a lifetime thing, and, for all he knew, it could've been. 

God, why was he like this?

Beomgyu cleared his throat. “Well. In that case. Welcome to our extremely cool and exclusive Friday night club.” He gestured dramatically to the empty store. “As you can see, it’s very hard to get in.”

Y/N chuckled, leaning against the counter. “I feel honored.”

Heeseung smirked. “We might let you stay. If you pass the vibe check.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Beomgyu rubbed his chin. “What do you think, Soobin? Is she cool enough?”

Soobin, caught off guard by suddenly being included, panicked. “Uh—uh, yeah. She’s cool. I mean—” He shut his mouth immediately, ears turning pink.

Y/N tilted her head, amused. “That was convincing.”

Beomgyu snickered. “Bro, blink twice if you’re being held hostage.”

Soobin glared at him. “You literally just asked me a question.”

“So defensive,” Heeseung mused.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. She liked this—how easy it was to joke with them. It was different from her usual dynamic with her friends, but in a good way. “Alright, then. What do you guys do for fun around here?”

Beomgyu grinned. “Oh, you just opened Pandora’s Box.”

Heeseung cracked his knuckles. “I hope you’re ready for the dumbest conversations of your life.”

Soobin just exhaled, already regretting letting these two talk freely. But when Y/N shot him a little smile, as if saying don’t worry, I like it here, he felt something in his chest lighten.

Maybe, just maybe, this Friday night wasn’t so bad after all.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Y/N was trying really, really hard to act normal.

She had one goal and couldn't bring herself to speak up. What if Soobin hates me? What if he's texting the cops on me right now? Can we text them now? But he's so cute and clueless, I'm just crazy. No, I'm just a dirty thief who stole from the sweetest boy on Earth. 

And yet, somehow, what started as a quick drop-in turned into Y/N leaning against the counter, laughing more than she had in days, without actually mentioning why she was there.

At first, the conversation had been all over the place. Beomgyu, as it turned out, had way too many strong opinions about anime adaptations, and Heeseung delighted in egging him on.

"I'm just saying," Beomgyu argued, flailing his arms dramatically, "if Hunter x Hunter had one more remake, I’d probably watch it again. And I’d like it. What does that say about me?"

"That you have no self-control?" Heeseung deadpanned.

Y/N snorted. "No, I think it just means you're emotionally attached to your childhood trauma."

Beomgyu pointed at her. "SEE? She gets it!"

"I literally never said I agreed with you."

Soobin just watched, equal parts amused and overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to this—watching someone new fit in so seamlessly with his friends. It was weirdly easy. Almost too easy.

But his awkward self couldn't shut his brain off.

He knew she hadn’t paid for the manga. He knew. But every time he thought about bringing it up, his brain short-circuited with thoughts like: What if she forgot on purpose? What if reminding her makes me seem weird? What if she feels bad about it? What if I spontaneously combust before I have to say anything?

And she was so pretty, so well spoken, and for some unknown reason she got along so well with his friends, that he had to focus on not passing out. 

And so, the standoff continued, unspoken yet painfully obvious, as Heeseung and Beomgyu happily led the conversation into complete chaos. Now, they seemed to argue about the most disappointing anime endings of all time. 

“I’m just saying,” Beomgyu insisted, leaning dramatically on the counter, “the fact that Tokyo Ghoul had all the ingredients for greatness and still fumbled? It physically pains me.”

“Oh my God, right?” Y/N groaned. “The manga is a masterpiece, but the anime? Absolute betrayal.”

Soobin nodded. “It felt like a speedrun of disappointment.”

Heeseung smirked. “What about Promised Neverland season two?”

Silence.

Beomgyu placed a hand over his heart. “You didn’t have to bring that up.”

“I still haven’t recovered,” Y/N muttered.

“I think I blacked out halfway through,” Soobin admitted.

Beomgyu turned to Heeseung with a deadly serious look. “You know what? Let’s just erase that from history. From this moment on, it never existed.”

“Agreed,” Y/N and Soobin said in unison.

They locked eyes for a second before quickly looking away, both feeling a little too aware of the easy rhythm between them.

Soobin felt… oddly comfortable. That was rare for him—talking to someone new without wanting to immediately disappear.

And at some point, Soobin realized something.

He was having fun.

Like, actual fun. Not just tolerating social interaction, not just sitting quietly while his friends did all the talking. He was participating. And Y/N wasn’t just being polite—she was genuinely engaged, laughing at their dumb jokes, throwing in her own witty remarks, and even making him laugh more than he had in a while.

It was strange. But… good.

For once, he wasn’t just watching from the sidelines. He was part of it. And that? That felt pretty damn nice.

The conversation continued, jumping between anime, video games, and chaotic childhood memories. At some point, Beomgyu launched into an animated rant about how Skyrim was still one of the greatest games ever made, and Y/N, naturally, challenged him.

“It’s great, sure,” she said, “but the amount of bugs and glitches? Unforgivable.”

Heeseung grinned. “Oh, she’s a gamer.”

Soobin, who had been quietly watching her the whole time, blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”

Y/N shrugged, sipping her drink. “I grew up with a brother who hogged the console, so I had to fight for my gaming rights.”

“Respect,” Beomgyu nodded solemnly. “What’s your go-to genre?”

“RPGs, mostly.”

Soobin perked up a little. “Do you like story-driven games?”

“Of course! I love getting way too emotionally invested in fictional characters.”

Beomgyu wiped away a fake tear. “A true kindred spirit, like Leehan last Dungeons and Dragons session.”

Y/N laughed before something clicked in her mind. “Oh wait, do you guys play Dungeons and Dragons?”

Soobin froze.

Heeseung, unfortunately, did not.

“Oh yeah, we play every Saturday.”

Soobin shot him a why would you say that look, but it was too late.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

Soobin braced himself for the judgment, but instead, she just looked… curious.

“You guys have a campaign?” she asked. “Like, an actual long-term one?”

Heeseung nodded proudly. “Yep. Been running it for almost two years now.”

Soobin, still expecting some kind of teasing, added hesitantly, “It’s, um… pretty nerdy.”

Y/N grinned. “Obviously. That’s the appeal.”

Soobin blinked. “Wait. You don’t think it’s lame?”

Beomgyu gasped. “Lame? Do you even know how powerful I am in-game?”

Y/N laughed. “Please, tell me more.”

Beomgyu dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I am a bard—the most dangerous class known to man.”

“You literally almost died to a chair last session,” Soobin muttered.

“It was a mimic,” Beomgyu shot back. “And I survived, didn’t I?”

Heeseung smirked. “Because Soobin saved your ass.”

Beomgyu waved him off. “Details.”

Y/N giggled. “So what do you guys play as?”

Beomgyu leaned in, excited. “I’m a bard, obviously. Heeseung’s our druid—”

“The best druid,” Heeseung corrected.

Beomgyu ignored him. “And Soobin’s our half-elf.”

Y/N turned to Soobin with interest. “Oh, a half-elf? That actually suits you.”

Soobin, whose brain had short-circuited again, just managed a weak, “Huh?”

“I mean, you have the calm, nature-loving energy,” she explained. “But also, I can totally see you summoning a giant bear out of nowhere.”

Heeseung laughed. “Oh, he has. And the amount of times his animal companion has done more damage than him—”

Soobin groaned. “I hate you.”

Beomgyu smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Y/N leaned on the counter, intrigued. “So how does it work? Do you guys just make stuff up?”

“Pretty much,” Heeseung said. “It’s all storytelling, but with dice.”

Beomgyu nodded. “We have a Dungeon Master—aka, our lord and tormentor, Taehyun—who controls the world and makes sure we suffer. He used to play as a monk, but being able to control our fates got into his head.”

Soobin finally relaxed a little. “It’s a lot of improv and problem-solving. You can do pretty much anything… if the dice are on your side.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “That actually sounds really fun.”

Beomgyu gasped dramatically. “Are you saying… you’d be interested?”

Soobin’s stomach did a weird flip.

“I mean, I’d love to see how it works,” Y/N admitted. “I’ve never played, but it seems cool.”

“Yes,” Heeseung fist-pumped. “Finally, a potential recruit.”

Soobin cleared his throat, trying not to overthink what he was about to say. “If you ever wanted to try, we could… um, show you?”

Y/N tilted her head. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Beomgyu threw an arm around Soobin, in shock his friend managed to ask the girl. “Oh, he’d love to.”

Soobin shoved him off, ears red. “Ignore him.”

Y/N giggled. “I don’t know, I think I’ll keep listening.”

Heeseung grinned. “Smart choice.”

Beomgyu drummed his fingers on the counter. “Alright, so if Y/N were to play, what class do we think she’d be?”

“Wizard,” Heeseung said immediately.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Why wizard?”

“You’re sharp, a little chaotic, and probably way too powerful once you get past level five, just like our friend Leehan”

Soobin, before he could stop himself, muttered, “I think she’d make a good ranger.”

Beomgyu smirked. “Oh? Elaborate.”

Soobin fumbled. Oh my god she is so pretty. “I—uh—just, she seems independent. And quick. And she probably has good aim.”

Y/N gave him a curious look before smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Soobin nodded, suddenly feeling way too warm. He couldn't believe what was happening before his eyes. 

Beomgyu grinned. “Alright, it’s settled. One day, Y/N joins our campaign.”

Y/N laughed. “We’ll see.”

But something about the way Soobin’s eyes brightened at the possibility made her think… maybe she really would.

Y/N casually leaned over the counter, and something shifted in the back of her brain. She had to do it now, grasp the faintest glimpse of courage she had in herself and speak up. Her heart was beating alarmingly fast and she could feel droplets of sweat running through her back. Fuck, she was so embarrased. You can do it, she thought, just open your stupid mouth. 

“Oh my god.” She straightened up. “Soobin.”

Soobin, who had just barely managed to relax, tensed immediately. “W-what?”

She squinted at him. “I never paid you for the manga yesterday.”

Silence.

The three boys blinked at her.

Beomgyu let out a wheeze. “Wait, you STOLE from us?”

Soobin’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh, no–”

Y/N smacked her forehead. “I swear it wasn’t intentional! I was just so caught up talking to you that I—” She groaned. “Wow. I am that person.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair. “Soobin. How does it feel to be so powerful that people literally commit crimes in your presence?”

Beomgyu nodded solemnly. “You must be the protagonist.”

Soobin, still slightly pink, shook his head. “It’s really not that big of a deal—”

“It is!” Y/N insisted, already digging into her bag. “I am an upstanding citizen, I refuse to let this slide.” She pulled out some cash and dramatically placed it on the counter. “There. My criminal past is erased.”

Beomgyu picked up the bill, inspecting it like it was a priceless artifact. “You know, you could’ve just kept the manga and fully embraced the delinquent life.”

Y/N gasped. “I am not a delinquent!”

“That’s exactly what a delinquent would say.”

Soobin, despite himself, let out a laugh. Y/N turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m glad you’re finding this entertaining.”

Soobin rubbed the back of his neck, his lips twitching. “It’s… kinda funny.”

She sighed dramatically. “This is it. This is my villain origin story.”

Heeseung leaned in. “So what’s next? Knocking over a convenience store? Running a black-market manga trade?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Beomgyu smirked. “And yet, you came back.”

She had no argument for that.

Soobin just watched as she shook her head, laughing softly, and thought—not for the first time—that maybe this was his new favorite version of Friday nights.

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profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: part2 of the double update!! what do you guys think? please i'd love to know!! y/n's first conversation with Soobin's friends and she's sooo awkward it's cute. ngl, i think i'm mastering the art of fluff hehe. stay tuned for the next part!! <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing@bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp@lostgirlysstuff@lilbrorufr @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz@jkeydiary @imnotsureokay

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - A Ted Nivison x Reader (Lemon)

{{-Here we are folks. We've finally reached the first smut chapter, Chapter. I ain't gonna say much except definitely go and read Chapter 5 before this one cause it's somewhat necessary. All other chapters will be listed at the bottom. Enjoy 😊 pls don't ban me-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ Fic, Reader is implied to be afab and under 5'5

Chapter Warnings: PURE SMUT. IF YOU'RE UNDER 18 GO AWAY. Heavy kissing, fingering, Ted giving head, passionate shii, finishes inside, whole noin yawds\\

Word Count: 4.9k (y/w)

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 & @callsign-scully

☆Thank y'all for bein' as nasty as me LMAO☆

Chapter 6: No Cameras

Ted is looking at me with this stupid half-smile on his face, knowing full well he had caught me red handed. I'm scrolling through my panicked mind to find some sort of excuse that'll make sense, but I don't think I can talk my way out of this one.

"You fuckin' did, didn't you?" Ted asks, his smile only getting bigger the longer I take to answer. He's keeping his eyes on mine, keeping his hands on his laptop's mousepad to keep the light from dimming. I break the eye contact by rolling my eyes and shake my head. "Keep dreaming.." I mutter, trying to play off my clear embarrassment with a scoff. "No no no no, I fucking know what I saw! I'm not letting you avoid it this time." Ted chuckles, setting his laptop aside to sit up more in my direction. I turn away to turn on the lamp beside me. I feel like I need to see his face at all times, like something bad will happen if I can't see him. Maybe I want something bad to happen.

"'This time'?" I repeat, furrowing my brows at him. "When have I ever--"

"This afternoon, when we were stuck in the truck?" Ted raised his brows at me, giving me this 'I gotcha' expression. "I let it slide when you checked me out the first time; chalked it up to you playin' with me, now I'm not so sure."

"Playing with you?" I repeated what he said again. Seems repeating back what he's saying to me is all I can muster up, he's reading me like a book and I don't want to give him any more pages.

"Like our back and forths? I thought it was still just that, but now? I mean, pshh, if I'm wrong, tell me and I'll leave ya alone."

"Leave me alone?" I raise a brow at Ted while trying to avoid eye contact.

"Yeah. If I'm--If I'm just fuckin' crazy, tell me and I'll leave. I won't bring it up again tomorrow and we can...keep things as they are, I guess." Ted explained, gesturing to me. "But I don't think I'm crazy."

Remember that timer I mentioned? Now I feel like it's counting down from 20. I can practically hear the ticking in my head as I lock eyes with Ted once more. I'm trying to read his expression. I'm looking for any signs of how he's feeling as well. He's been saying things like 'why I couldn't kiss you doesn't need to be said at this rate' and 'we should be louder', but I can't recall him ever making a move. Our chemistry can't be denied, and neither can my attraction to him, yet I'm still having doubts. If I lie, he leaves my room and never brings it up again, but I may never discover how he feels, and all of this tension will fizzle out into an unsatisfying nothing. But if I tell the truth and he doesn't feel the same, the next 2 and a half weeks are going to be incredibly awkward. He could even quit, or maybe I'd have to quit.

I'm terrified of having the wrong idea about all of this. I don't know when or if the playful flirting became real, I don't know when or if the sarcastic pet names became real, but we've been sitting together, teaming up, going out to run errands, kissing longer than we should. I can't pinpoint a single moment where either of our teasing may have blossomed into something more.

But...it can't just be my imagination. There has to be more.

"I....may have glanced.." I admit with an embarrassed smile, looking up at the ceiling and turning my head away from Ted. I didn't want to see his reaction, but he certainly made it known. "Oh my god.." Ted playfully gasps, I can hear him grinning ear to ear, it's making me anxious "You like me! Do you like me??"

"...I gotta fix the curtains.." I mutter to myself, finding an excuse to get out of bed. I turn off the lamp first, a quiet huff leaving me. I still couldn't tell how he was feeling, and it was bothering me. Was he making fun of me? My face felt so warm, I didn't want him to look at it at all. "Oh no fucking way. Stay there, we're talkin' about this." I hear Ted chuckle and move around a little. "I'm not going fucking anywhere until I get some answers."

I move to open the curtains, taking a quiet but deep breath as I struggle to pull them apart. I have to lean over a dresser just to get to the curtains so I'm initially too distracted to hear that Ted was getting out of bed, until it's too late. I watch his hand take my arm so I'm forced to look at him, realizing he's practically got me cornered. Behind me is the air conditioner, and behind that is a wall. The only other place I can move to now is the bed, unless Ted moves.

"You can't act like it's all a fuckin' joke now. I gotchu, (Y/N). I gotchu."

"'Got me' what?" I huff with an embarrassed smile, once again avoiding eye contact as I remove his hand from my arm. "It was a glance."

"Oh you're gonna try and fuckin' lie now, eh princess? Not gonna own it?"

"Own what?"

"That you like me! You've given me the fuckin' kissing tell twice today! Off camera! What, you don't wanna kiss me now?"

"I wanted to open the curtains."

"You don't wanna kiss me?"

"Ted, I can't move--"

"You don't wanna kiss me?"

"I wanna get out of this corner--"

"Look at me then."

"Ted, it's the fucking tell for our film, it doesn't mean--"

"If it doesn't mean anything, look at me."

I roll my eyes and turn my head to face him once more, seeing just how close he had really gotten to me. His body was merely inches away from mine, and man, was he towering over me. It was a little overwhelming, I felt like I couldn't breathe properly. He's looking at me with that same devilish half-smile from before. I can't hold back the urge to smile, a light giggle leaving me as I force myself to break away from his gaze. I'm almost glad he caught me. He's so handsome. When he gives me those eyes, I panic. I can't look him straight in the eyes for too long. I feel like I'm falling right into a trap, but maybe I wanted to be caught. And yet I still try to talk my way out of it.

"Y-You were talking! I was just--I was listening to you talk." I huffed, shrugging with my hands out somewhat. I knew I sounded defensive as fuck, I couldn't control my tone. I was so nervous. Even with my body facing Ted, I couldn't look him in the eye. "You were talking. You were talking a-and I'm not gonna stare at you the entire fucking time you're talking. That's weird. Like-like what am I, a fuckin' owl?? Just staring at you?? No, you have other places--I have other places I have to look when someone's speaking! Doesn't mean I want to-mmmh--"

My ramblings are interrupted by the feeling of Ted's lips pressing against mine gently, one of his hands moving to my waist with the other resting upon my cheek. For a moment, I'm frozen in time. He's kissing me. He's kissing me again. There's no camera's and he's kissing me. I can't think straight. I can't think...at all.

That moment when you kiss someone

and everything around you becomes hazy...

And the only thing in focus is you and this person.

I allow my body to relax and return the gentle kiss, closing my eyes to slip into this intimacy fully. Ted pulls me in closer to deepen the kiss, almost hungrily so, like he's been waiting just as long as I have to be together again. By the time I got comfortble enough to move one of my hands, Ted breaks the kiss, keeping his hands on me. I open my eyes to meet his affectionate gaze, my lips still slightly parted from the kiss. Any and all anxiety I had been feeling has just disappeared. I feel...assured.

"Is that what you wanted?.." He speaks to me quietly with a light nod, slowly caressing my cheek with his thumb. I tried. I really tried. I tried not to 'catch feelings', I told Joe I wasn't sleeping with him, but my god do I want his lips on mine. I want to kiss him. I want him close. I want him to be mine, even just for tonight. I don't want him to leave. "I don't know.." I admit with a quiet giggle, lightly biting my lower lip. "You...might have to do it again...or a couple more times...just to see."

"A couple more, eh?.." Ted smirks deviously, moving his hand to firmly grab my jaw, keeping me still so I can't turn away this time. "You sure you want that? With everyone here?"

"'Everyone'? Please..." I playfully scoff at him, glancing down at his blush toned lips once more before gazing into his earthy eyes. "There's no cameras in here, Ted.."

Ted's smile grows, shaking his head a little at me before leaning in to kiss me once more. A satisfied purr leaves him when I don't hesitate to kiss him back this time. I once again find myself on cloud nine, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss. He moves his hand from my jaw so he can hold my waist with both hands, pulling me in closer to press his body against mine. He tilts his head more in the deep kiss, and I feel his tongue once again lightly glide along my lower lip. I slowly open my mouth to allow his tongue to move along mine, hearing him quietly snicker in the kiss in response. God, he's hot, and he knows it. He must know it.

When the kiss begins to pick up even more, I let a quiet moan escape me, bringing my hands down to cup his face. This makes him pull from the kiss briefly to look at me once again, his eyes lingering on my lips. My face once again feels like it's on fire and the butterflies certainly haven't left my stomach, but I know I want him. I know.

"That's so cute.." Ted purrs lowly and pulls me back into the passionate kiss, keeping up the pace from before. I felt his thumbs caressing my waist through the light fabric of my nightgown as I hungrily latch onto his blush toned lips, just like I desired to in his truck. He's mine. He's mine I say to myself as I pull him onto the bed with me. It's the only coherent thing running through my mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We waste no time. Ted and I move up a bit in the bed, our lips staying locked together until my head finally hits the pillow. His glasses eventually fall off his face and gently lands on mine. "Fuck.." Ted mutters with a light chuckle, taking his glasses and placing them on my nightstand. I giggle as he returns to the arousing kiss, a muffled moan escaping him. My cheeks and hands feel warm and the only sounds between us are our heavy breathing and our longing kiss. My arms once again wrap around Ted's neck when I feel him press his body against me once more, lightly picking at the back of his blue shirt.

"Patience, princess.." Ted whispers against my lips, planting one last deep kiss on my lips before beginning to travel little kisses to my neck. I take in a sharp breath, stiffening up once I feel his lips on my sensitive neck. "I've been patient enough. Take it off.." I grunt at him, starting to pull his shirt up a little with my nails. He lets out a mocking chuckle and pulls away so he can remove his shirt, simply throwing it somewhere in the room before returning to me, picking apart the buttons of my nightgown. I notice the silver chain he has around his neck, running my hands along anywhere I can touch him. I don't have the energy to feel embarrassed about my body, I feel like I'm burning up anyways, everywhere feels so hot, and the only thing that can cool it down is his touch. His touch. His touch...

He gets my nightgown off of me and throws it somewhere before latching back onto my neck. A more audible moan leaves me, but I quickly cover my mouth, quietly reminding myself that we're not alone in this house. The reminder doesn't last when I feel his hand sneak its way into my pajama shorts, sliding a finger in between my sensitive folds. I gasp and instinctively grab his arm, and I feel him grin against me. He's moving through this so fast, yet I have no real desire to stop him. "E-Easy.." I moan quietly, my whole body stiffening up when his thumb finds my clit. A jolt of pleasure surges through my thighs, I can feel my bud and my entrance reacting to his touch, pulsing, wanting, urging for it. Somehow, somehow, he knows exactly where to touch me.

"You were aaalll talk..." Ted purrs against my skin, moving up from my neck to look me in the eyes once more. He slides his hand away from my core to tug my pajama shorts down enough to be able to touch me freely. His fingers once again move between my folds, watching my physical reactions with amusement. "God, I've wanted to shut you up. You talk too fuckin' much." As he purrs at me, two of his fingers find my entrance and slowly slide into me, a gasp releasing from me. I playfully glare at him and bring my hand up to grab the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his dark locks before pulling him into a deep, sloppy kiss. I hadn't felt how wet he had really made me until now, his fingers effortlessly pumping inside of me. Everything he did to me felt so good and the only thing I could do was let him. I managed to slide my free hand down to feel him from over his sweatpants, and was he good and hard for me. I feel him groan in the kiss, and I snicker at him. I couldn't wait to take him. I knew it'd be even harder to control my voice once he was inside me. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad.

Ted's fingers leave my entrance and I feel him leave my essence along my thighs so he can hold himself up with both arms, breaking the kiss to once again guide his lips down to my neck, only this time he keeps moving. I feel my face getting hotter, instinctively bringing a hand up to touch my cheek and run my fingers through my hair. I'm a hot mess, I feel Ted's lips move further and further down my body, lapping up my breasts like he's worshipping me. "You needed this as much as I did, eh?" I manage to speak up in a soft tone, smiling ear to ear when I feel him spread my legs.

"I don't need your fuckin' commentary.." Ted growls in between my breasts, making a quiet giggle escape me.

"You can't shut me up, Theo."

"Yeah? You think thats what I'm doin'?" Ted's kisses reach my lower stomach before he readjusts himself to lift my legs up to sort of sit around his shoulders, his head now perfectly between my legs. When his lips and his tongue meet my inner thighs I feel my belly flutter with nerves and excitement, bringing one hand up to lightly bite my knuckle while the other rests on my lower belly.

He nibbles at my inner thighs before finally moving further in, allowing his tongue to slide in between my sensitive folds, my budding clit immediately reacting when the tip of his warm tongue glides along it. I reel my head back and moan out as he takes full control of my body from my core, taking in all of my alluring essence in his mouth. I feel like my body is being sucked out of my soul, like he's secretly been an incubus all this time, a master of a woman's body. He's commanding me to feel bouts of pleasure I've never experienced with a man before and I can feel my core aching for more and more. My hand reaches down further to grip his tall dark hair, a pleasurable laugh escaping me as he laps me up like a desperate hound aching for scraps. I can hear him moaning between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs and pulling me into him more. Ted's tongue dances inside me, subtly slipping along my entrance to taste my every desire more and more. I can feel his pointy chin lower down, his stubble against my folds, his lips massaging at my own, he just doesn't stop. His tongue finds my now throbbing clit over and over and over, back and forth, back and forth. My body is left, wanting, begging, pleading, praying for release until it finally pours out.

"Ted! Ted!! Oh my fucking god--Yes, Yes! Yes like that! I--"

It starts at my clit and spreads all across my body, Ted having to hold my thighs to keep me balanced. I struggle to hold in the never-ending waterfall of moans pouring out of me, so I slap my hand over mouth and moan into it as much as my body will allow. I'm absolutely drunk with pleasure and it feels like it could last for infinity. I stretch out my ankles and my hands as my orgasm crashes over my entire body, the overwhelming pleasure surging up into my brain, making me roll my eyes back and close them. I remove my hand from my mouth when I start to come down from its peak, letting him hear my desperate whimpers as the high of my orgasm starts to fade, leaving my clit feeling warm and sore. I've been aching for this all week, and finally, finally, I'm feeling all of this tension start to come undone. That might've been the most intense orgasm I've ever been given, and yet, he wasn't done with me.

I hear Ted moan to himself, watching with tired eyes as he wipes his mouth with his free hand. I got a glimpse at how wet I truly was, but I didn't even need it, I could feel it, especially when he fully pulled away from my thighs and the light air hit them, my essence had spread nearly everywhere after how he ate me out, and I loved it. "I can't get enough of you.." Ted purred, coming face to face with me once more so he could pull me into a hungry kiss. Even despite such a strong surge of pleasure, I can feel my body pleading for more, my core aching for Ted to finish what he started. It was agonizing not having him inside me yet. I was ready now more than ever. I was so desperate, I'd do anything he wanted me to just to feel him. I felt like I was under a spell, but truthfully, it was just from good fucking head.

"Please. Please.." I beg to him in the kiss, cupping his face with a needy moan escaping me when he breaks from the kiss to work at removing his sweatpants. "See? Couldn't shut you up even if I wanted to.." Ted grins devishly at me, leaning down to kiss and nibble at my jaw. A satisfied smile spreads along my face, leaning my head back and closing my eyes to continue enjoying his intimate touch.

"You're the one doing all the talking.." I moan softly

"You're the one makin' all the fuckin' noise." Ted grunts when he finally gets his sweatpants off, pulling back for a moment to toss them aside before returning to my body. "As much as I like hearing you flap your fuckin' lips all day..." Ted pulls me in closer by my legs, a surprised but excited gasp leaving me, causing me to briefly look down. My god, his size is perfect for me. All of that is going to fit so good inside me, I shudder out a breath and lock eyes with Ted once more. "...I like making you squirm even more." Ted towers his body over mine, holding himself up with one arm while holding my hips with the other.

I feel my entrance aching for him to fill it, a blushing mess when I feel him glide his shaft along my soaking wet folds, the tip brushing along my already sensitive bud from earlier. I moan out in surprise, closing my eyes for a moment and giggling. "Yeah? I bet.." I purr, opening my eyes to gaze at Ted once more, gliding my tongue along my upper lips. "You better not be all--" I close my eyes and moan suddenly when I feel his length push into my entrance, feeling every curve and edge shape around my tight walls like his cock was made for me; actually made for me.

When I feel he's completely in, there's a moment where neither of us move or say anything. I open my eyes and see him looking at me, face to face once more. I lock eyes with his earthy orbs, the only noise between us being the sounds of our desperate panting. It's the first and only moment of the night where we slip past our passionate embrace to truly process what's about to change between us. We certainly can't go back now. That timer hit zero nearly a good hour ago. This is what we are now.

Ted gives me a tired smile to reassure me that he wants this, a quiet chuckle leaving me in response before I feel him start to move his hips. His pace is gentle at first, not too slow, really taking in how wet I've become because of him. Every moment our gazes would lock, every moment I could feel his breath on me, every flirtatious insult, every comment, every glance; it all felt like it was leading up to this. Every thrust felt like the pleasurable unwrapping of all of this tension I've been burdened with. My core was sending pleasing signals up my body and down my legs every time his hips rubbed against mine, thanking me for finally letting this man take me. My god, have I been waiting for him to take me, aching for it. It's all I can think about now. The pleasure, the pleasure.

I hear my name in a whisper from Ted's gravely tone, feeling Ted adjust his body to be sitting up more, one of his hands nearly gripping my shoulder with the other on my hip, pulling me into his increasingly rougher thrusts. My breasts jolt and bounce with every rock of the bed, hearing it lightly squeak beneath us as his length pumps inside me. I can feel my thighs shivering with excitement, my lower belly tingling for more. My judgement is beginning to be clouded by just how nicely he's fucking me, having a troubling time keeping my voice down with every pulse of satisfaction through me.

"Ohh, Theo.." I let out a girlish moan, bending my legs up a little more to adjust the angle to my liking, feeling him pick up his pace in response. He moved both hands to my hips so he can really work himself into me, grinding his hips against mine out of desperation. The veins of his throbbing shaft are massaging me so nicely, I know my essence is practically drenching it. My arousal is spreading further and further through my veins, a particular curved thrust from Ted causing my body to jolt with pleasure.

"Oh my god--Ted, Yes! Ted! Yes! Yes! Whatever you just did, I--I need that, I need it, I need it.." All of my thoughts and feelings have been taken over by Ted's body, begs and pleads beginning to pour out of me at such an alarming rate, yet I can't stop myself. I can't shut myself up. Ted is taking every last coherent thought with every deep thrust, and I just have to take it. He gets to use me for as long as he wants, and I have to take it. I want to take it.

Ted forces my legs upwards more until my knees are nearly touching my breasts, his own sighs and groans of pleasure mixing in with my own. He hides his face in my neck and really begins to put his all into me, the sound of his hips smacking into mine getting louder with every swift pump of his cock. I wrap my arms and legs around his body the best I can, finally able to work my fingers through his dark hair as I cry out for him. I can't control myself. All I feel is his length pumping inside me, his cold chain against my chest, his stubble scratching my cheek, his voice purring and moaning in my ear like a desperate animal in heat, finally satisfying his carnal desires. My walls tighten around him, my sensitive bud throbs for him, my thighs are shivering, my body is aching, all for him. It's all for him.

"Theo! Theo! Right there, right there, right there right there!" Is nearly all I can whimper out for him, practically crying out when I feel my body ready itself for release. I'm gripping and pulling at his hair with one hand and gripping his bare back with the other, both of my legs locked around him, trapping his cock inside me. His hips slam against mine over and over and over, I can't comprehend anything except the pleasure. Ted. Ted. Teddy...

Eventually it's all too much for my mind to comprehend. I don't even have the energy to let him know I'm cumming, I just cry out for him to not stop fucking me. He pulls away from my neck to connect our foreheads when I pull at his hair roughly. I don't care if anyone hears us. Let them hear. All that's in focus is the second and finale orgasm Ted allows my body to reach for the night, elevated when I feel his warm seed flow into me. My whole body shudders and I'm able to let out a few shaky moans, his last desperate thrusts to empty himself deep inside me causing my eyes to once again roll back briefly, fully and completely satisfied by him.

I don't feel Ted pull out right away. With my eyes closed, I feel the bed stop moving first All of my senses start slowly returning. I feel our warm, sticky bodies pressed against one another, I feel our hot breathes mixing as we try to steady our heavy panting, I feel a cold wetness spread along my folds and up my inner thighs, but most of all, I just feel...relieved.

I open my eyes to see Ted's tired gaze, watching as he comes down from the same high. That's when he finally decided to pull out, a quiet moan leaving us both. My sense of awareness and judgement are the last thing to return to me and I briefly wonder just how loud we both may have been, but any worries melt away when Ted's lips meet mine once again. He kisses me with passion and care, letting out a pleased hum in the kiss before pulling away to move off of me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I unwrap my arms and legs from his body so he can lay down beside me, both of us just staring up at the ceiling while continuing to try and catch our breath. If this were some passionate seen in a TV show or movie, this is where the next scene would cut to: the aftermath. I'm a mess, he's a mess, and yet we're both too tired to care. I had nothing to worry about in regards to how Ted finished, I was already on birth control, he knew this. I turn my head to look at him and blush to myself, turning my body a little in his direction. He looks at me and gives me a weak but reassuring smile, not hesitating to pull me into his arms. I was glad that he was willing to stay and hold me, partially because my side of the bed was now drenched and damp, but also because I wanted him here. I wanted him to stay. He manages to get the light comforter over our bodies to keep them warm, wrapping his arms around me for the night.

Not a word was spoken, nothing more needed to be said.

We both quietly agreed to fall asleep together and discuss everything the morning.

__________________________________

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (Here) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 (smut) || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || Chapter 23 || Chapter 24 || Chapter 25 (Final) ||

[starrysturnz]

where the love light gleams

pairing. vampire!matt sturniolo x human!reader

summary. matt hasn’t celebrated a holiday in decades. a lonely, unfulfilling existence is nothing to be cheerful about, in his book. but there’s something different about this particular christmas— he’s not quite so lonely anymore.

warnings. mention of the death of a parent, an unserious joke about domestic violence, somewhat sensual toward the end?? angst if you smear this fic on a glass slide and look at it through a microscope.

word count. 1k

author’s note. OKAY SO i apologize for the fact that the only fic from this countdown that was posted on time was the first one… 20% success rate :D basically i’ve learned to pre-write anything i plan to release on a specific date lol. anyways i was traveling and then i got sick sooo not ideal conditions to focus on writing. thanks for sticking with me on this tho! i hope u like this one as much as i do!! kisses :3

masterlist | taglist | starrysturnz’s christmas countdown

© starrysturnz. all rights reserved. dividers by @cafekitsune.

it was the perfect evening. firewood crackling in its hearth, the smell of half-baked cookies wafting in from the kitchen, and polar express playing on the tv as y/n lay cuddled up under her favorite fuzzy blanket with her boyfriend, matt.

his fingers toyed lazily with her (admittedly, ugly) sweater as she laid her temple against his shoulder. tilting her head up to admire his face— his strong jaw, his striking eyes— she said, “i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before. it’s a classic.”

his head turned slowly to face her, eyes lagging behind on the screen for a second before speaking, “just never really been into christmas movies, i guess.”

there was a hint of something hidden in his voice… amusement, maybe? like he knew something she didn’t. y/n got that vibe from him occasionally— like she was on the receiving end of an inside joke that she wasn’t a part of— but she mostly chose to ignore it. today, however, the urge to pry won her over.

“how come? your family didn’t celebrate holidays growing up or something?”

it was an innocent question, matt knew. he’d expected she might be intrigued by his utter lack of knowledge regarding common christmas traditions. this was their first big holiday together, and she was entitled to some curiosity. but he couldn’t tell her the truth… yet. it wasn’t exactly the time.

besides, the honest answer was a real mood killer— how could he tell her he’d spent the better part of the last century avoiding holiday festivities at all costs? that he didn’t see any reason to celebrate his miserable, cursed existence? way too much explaining, so not enough time. plus, it made him seem all dark and self-loathing, and while yeah, that might’ve been the case, he felt it was far too accurate to edward from the twilight franchise… and being compared to that idiot in any capacity made him want to stake himself.

so instead, he offered her his prepared answer: “no, no, it’s not that. just, i dunno… my mom passed around the holidays when i was young, and it sort of overshadowed the magic of it all, y’know?”

it was the perfect fib— just dark enough to be believable without leaving room for any follow-up questions. and it’s not like it was a total lie; matt’s mother really had died around christmas when he was a boy, and it did put a damper on his holiday spirit.

y/n’s expression softened into one of genuine empathy, and she mustered her best comforting smile. “’m sorry. that must’ve been really difficult.”

“’s okay, that was a long time ago. besides, now i get to experience all your creepy CGI movies for the first time right next to you, so it all worked ou— hey!”

matt rubbed the assaulted spot on his arm as if her little swat had actually hurt at all. (truthfully, he suspected that not even a human would’ve been bothered by her attack.)

“i’ll have you know this movie is a staple from my childhood,” she stated matter-of-factly. “so be nice, or else next halloween i’m making you watch monster house.”

⁺⁎˚

“the cookies should be ready by now, don’t y’think, love?” matt asked, nudging his girlfriend ever so gently in the ribs, making her giggle. “i might not be a christmas expert, but santa can’t visit if the place has burned down, can he?”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll go get them, you stay here,” she ordered.

moments later, y/n was padding back into the living room on her bare tiptoes— the only part her leg warmers didn’t cover— with a decorative reindeer plate full of warm strawberry jam cookies, lightly dusted with powdered sugar. she situated herself back under the blanket, setting the plate on her lap.

matt, eager to try one of the delicacies, reached for the one on the top, only to have his hand smacked away by an irritated y/n.

“ah! do i need to call the cops on you for domestic violence? because you just love hitting me today, hm?”

“only when you do stupid stuff. hands to yourself, silly.”

“but then how am i supposed to…”

his words trailed off as she lifted a cookie between two fingers, raising a brow at him expectantly.

“oh,” he grinned cutely, opening his mouth. his eyes fell shut of their own accord as the treat pushed past his lips, and he found himself savoring the taste. matt never really believed in love as an ingredient in baked goods, but he had to admit, he could taste it in y/n’s food every time.

“so?”

“they’re incredible, darling. really delicious, seriously.” his smile widened at her pleased expression, clearly happy with herself for having impressed him. not that she had to try very hard. “if i grab one of these, are you gonna hit me again?”

“mm. i guess not.”

matt’s hands reached into her lap, snagging the plate from her entirely, setting it atop his own legs.

“hey, wha—”

“sh,” he quieted her protests with a whisper, grabbing a cookie and admiring the adorable heart-shaped design for a second before his eyes flitted up to her face. the corners of his lips quirked up just barely, and then his free hand was softly gripping her jaw. “open up.”

y/n obeyed almost immediately, save for the half-second she spent processing what had just happened. then, she was chewing on the warm pastry, practically melting in matt’s grasp as his thumb swiped at the edge of her mouth to clean the powdered sugar there.

“good?” he asked after a beat. she swallowed.

“mhm.”

“told you,” he teased, now setting the plate on the coffee table and pulling the girl into his lap instead. he heard her heartbeat pick up in her chest, and he placed a soft kiss against her cheek just to hear it skip once. the movie on the tv had been long forgotten.

y/n’s arms wrapped around his shoulders securely, a happy sigh escaping her lips.

“merry christmas, matt.”

for the first time in many years, matt found himself smiling at those words. he held her tightly against his chest.

“merry christmas, darling.”

taglist: @toslayy @stylessuperwhore @sofieeeeex

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 17

PREVIOUS

1. You do not talk about the Speakeasy in the basement 2. You DO NOT TALK about the Speakeasy in the basement

Those are two of the three cardinal rules of Eden’s Twilight both as a VIP customer and as an employee. The rest are more suggestions or requests that are fairly malleable depending on the night and the patron.

Andrew himself had broken the latter half of ‘Don’t be a dick or try anything with your dick on the club premises’ multiple times with Roland and then he’d broken it even further and with more vigor with Neil.

Roland had tried to bill them for the furniture in the break room and Andrew had been more than happy to use some of the blackmail he’d been holding onto to make it go away despite Neil’s repeated attempts to try and pay for it. “It’s my fault Andrew, I asked you to lay me there.” And “Allison didn’t warn me that it could stain fabric, she said it transferred really easily onto skin.” Had been waved away as Roland was happy to have those particular bits of blackmail out of play.

That being said Roland had come in despite the clear ‘occupied’ signs on the door and interrupted some of Andrew’s finest work a few weeks ago (His from? Excellent. His pacing? Excellent. His angle? Excellent. The noises Neil had been making? Perfection.)

Roland still couldn’t look at Neil without his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t so Andrew had a guest pass for the speakeasy waiting for him at the bar to make up for that wandering eye.

Which meant that he could take FF down to the speakeasy tonight. He was sure that FF would pass muster and be able to come without a pass after the night, he was just the kind of guy that they liked to have down there.

It would all be so simple if it weren’t for the third cardinal rule of Eden’s Twilight.

3. Nicky Hemmick is not allowed to know about the Speakeasy.

When Nicky had worked at Eden’s he’d been popular but he’d also talked about all sorts of secrets. He spilled tea like Aaron had spilled drinks.

So the club had done what it had to do in order to protect the incredibly select and private feature of their club:

They lied about what was down there and then they committed to that lie.

So the day came and Nicky was looking at the door with a guard next to it, “Where does that go?” He asked.

“It’s an exclusive club for straight swingers to meet and swap.” The lie rolls off of Roland’s tongue like the truth.

Nicky made a disgusted face. “Straight people.” He said shaking his head and then Roland swiftly made some purchases to sell his lie and offered the guard Frank an additional $5 an hour if he was willing to change his uniform.

Nicky Hemmick has never gone near the door since then and it is considered a success for the record books by all of the staff and VIPs in the know.

Which is why Andrew had needed a plan to pry Nicky off of FF for the night.

Nicky and FF had spent the entire time at Sweeties elbowing one another and laughing (well Nicky laughed and FF tolerated all of Nicky’s jokes and implications stoically), Nicky had been sticking with FF like he was one of the various flecks of glitter that stuck to FF after the freshman had slept in Nicky’s bed.

Before he’d gotten FF dressed up Nicky had made a solemn oath, “You and me Smithy, we’ll dance the night away!” Nicky had exclaimed.

“I’m good thanks.” FF said, “You know what will happen if I dance.” He says and Nicky grimaces as if remembering something painful. He wonders if FF just isn’t a good dancer or if the consequences of someone bumping into him were as painful as they were when someone bumped into Andrew on the dance floor.

“Well, then you and me will just have to spend the entire night chatting in the booth Smithy!” Nicky had smiled as if he wasn’t fucking up Andrew’s plans to take FF down to the speakeasy where they could sit without the headache inducing music that Nicky, Aaron, and even Kevin (he claims Stockholm syndrome) claim to love.

So, Andrew had needed to find a way to get Nicky to a state where he would be compelled to dance and leave FF alone for the night.

There are exactly three sure-fire ways to get Nicky Hemmick to become a slave to the dance floor.

1. You have to play his favorite music and Andrew doesn’t know if there’s enough blackmail in the world to get Roland to force a DJ to play nothing but Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass, Gasoline by Daddy Yankee, or Usher’s DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ In Love (his three current obsessions) on a loop for the entire night. (Bust)

2. You are Erik Klose and you want to dance. This option was unlikely due to Erik currently (as far as Andrew knew) being in Germany. (Bust)

3. Nicky has taken some party drugs. (Feasible)

So, Andrew may have been the one that had reminded both his brother and Nicky about Cracker Dust on their way to the car. Neil shoots him a look he ignores because Andrew hasn’t really pushed or mentioned Cracker Dust in almost a year.

It was something that they had all gotten off of for various reasons the year prior.

Neil had never started, Andrew had his deal with Neil, Kevin wanted to cut back on the substances he was abusing and he was not going to be giving up alcohol anytime soon, Aaron had needed a squeaky clean image for the trial, and Nicky had given it up in solidarity.

Aaron had been bemoaning that he had forgotten to get any the last four times they had gone to Eden’s so, really, Andrew was just being a thoughtful brother when he’d reminded his cousin.

So when they park the Maserati and head into the club it is no shock that after the first round of drinks (Neil & FF both had bottled waters) Nicky whips out the sandwich baggy he had gotten from FF and hands Aaron his share.

In a turn of good luck a bass heavy remix of Flo Rida’s Club Can’t Handle Me started playing and the only thing Nicky did was squeal, kiss FF’s cheek, and drag Aaron out onto the dance floor.

And then there were three.

***

FF had NOT been able to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were.

It might be due to the fact that his stomach is trying to stage a revolt against him but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to read English. There are no other languages around  for him to see if this illiteracy has spread to other languages.

He wonders it he brought out his katakana flashcards if the lines would blur or if his brain would be so filled with the unrelenting desire to go to the bathroom that his Professor would wonder how he ever got full marks on his midterm.

Maybe clubs didn’t have signs that pointed to the bathroom? Was he supposed to go up and ask that bartender that Andrew kept going to? Was it like a gas station where he had to ask for keys?

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something.

When the hell did Nicky lea-

Oh Dj’s Got Us Falling In Love is playing. Nicky is definitely on the dance floor. FF has yet to escape Nicky grinding on him whenever this song happens to come on the radio he is sure that someone right now out on the dance floor is suffering the same fate that he has 3-4 times a week.

He wonders if Nicky will call Erik like he usually does when it comes on outside of the club.

At least it’s super hard to hear in this club if Nicky takes a seat next to him and starts gushing to Erik in German.

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something and he just remembered that this would be the second time Captain Neil has asked him something.

If there was one weakness in FF’s foreign language arsenal it is that he has a hard time processing language when surrounded by loud sounds. If he knows what language they’re talking in he can sometimes get by on reading lips (does that count as another language? Probably not) but Captain Neil speaks like four languages fluently and his Spanish is getting better and better every-

Oh god Captain Neil and Andrew just asked him something and he still hasn’t answered the other two times.

“I can’t hear you!” He calls out and hopes they can at least understand HIM.

Andrew rolls his eyes and bumps Captain Neil’s shoulder with his own. He sees Andrew whisper something to Captain Neil before pointing somewhere in the distance.

OH

They had noticed his obvious plight and were going to show him to the bathroom!

That was nice.

Maybe Nicky had asked them before his songs came on.

Andrew and Captain Neil are out of the booth and Andrew juts his chin off in a certain direction. FF does NOT need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to follow Andrew to the bathroom like some pre-schooler following their mom. These are desperate times.

So Andrew and Captain Neil guide him across the dance floor and…sure enough Nicky is grinding on some other guy who looks like he’s in heaven and he thinks he can see Aaron’s pale arms flying uncoordinatedly all over the place somewhere in the middle distance.

FF finds himself with Captain Neil and Andrew in a hallway. There’s a guard in front of the door with a bizarre pineapple shirt (why are they all upside down?) on but FF hadn’t even dressed himself tonight so he really shouldn’t judge.

“Minyard, Josten, and one guest.” He can hear Andrew say now that they’re away from the loud thrum of the music.

How fancy is this bathroom?

The man looks at Andrew, Captain Neil, and then FF. There is a visible head-to-toe inspection when he hits FF and whatever the man sees must past muster.

“Acceptable. You know the rules.”

Rules?

Wash your hands?

Don’t piss on the floor?

Let staff know if the urinal is low on ice?

FF hoped the rules would be posted in easy to understand pictures because his ability to read the English language was still heavily hampered at the moment.

Why is the handle to the door an upside pineapple too? Did someone install it wrong? Also Eden’s does not give off a very tropical vibe so why would they pick that?

The door opens and-

Oh.

Those are stairs.

Oh.

Andrew’s taking him to the basement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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[punks-never-die205]

Passing Fascination

Fem Reader x Yandere!Eustass Kid

CW: kidnapping, yandere Eustass Kid, violence, dubious consent, imprisonment, abuse, swearing, sex, group sex, dark content kids I am not messing around with this ♥

Tag list: @keiva1000

Chapter 5: Consent

Kid backs off, going over and grabbing a chair before seating himself nearly in the middle of the room. You stay almost pressed against the bookshelf as he moves, watching him with a mix of curiosity and fear.

“It’s your idea, so do the work.” He says. A grin splits across his lips, but you can see his earlier irritation in his eyes. “Strip yourself.”

Your mind shorts for a second before a confused, half-mumbled what falls from your lips.

“Strip yourself, little mouse. You think this will fix it all, so fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not gonna hear any fucking shit about forcing you, so you’re gonna do it.” He clarifies, and you can feel a cold knot in the pit of your stomach.

“If… if I don’t?” You question nervously, stepping away from the books a bit.

“… Then nothing changes.” He answers, crossing an ankle over his knee and leaning back. “You’re gonna keep expecting it. And maybe I give you less space, or more. Maybe we see what the rest of the crew will do to you if they think I won’t find out.”

You feel your body heat at the implication. “They’re… they’re too loyal to-.”

“Oh they’re loyal alright,” Kid interrupts. “Won’t lie if I ask ‘em, but if you ain’t mine, little mouse, then who the fuck are you on this ship?”

Your legs nearly buckle at the statement. It was a truth you were certainly aware of before now, but hearing it so clearly made your blood run cold. You needed to keep yourself together - as healthy and as capable as possible.

The chance to escape would present itself. What was important was to not break or be broken before then. He wouldn’t break you if you loved him, wouldn’t break you if he loved you. Deception left a sour taste on the tip of your tongue, but it would be a savory flavor indeed, if you could win your freedom with it.

Right now there’s no need to hide your hesitation, the deceit will have to come in slowly. You take a moment, breathing in slowly and letting it out slower, trying to get your roiling stomach to calm down.

Taking a few more  steps away from the bookcase you stand before him, and start to take your clothes off. There’s no little show, no shy smile you can muster, your fingers shake as you pull your shirt off, and the air seems uncomfortably cold.

You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him as you pull your pants off. You weren’t fully dressed today, since you’d intended to stay in and read, so you were only taking off the pajamas you’d had on. Enough clothing to eat breakfast and vanish.

Kid shifts, putting his hands behind his head. “Now me.”

You flinch, looking up at him in surprise and a little confusion.

“You want it?” He repeats, spreading his legs open. “Come get it.” He slouches a little in the chair. “Don’t have to strip me bare, little mouse, just gotta free up whatcha need.”

Part of you wants to protest. Most of you wants to protest. You don’t want this, not in the truest sense, but things need to change. Something has to give, and you’re not going to gain any trust or leeway if you’re skittering away from him and everyone else.

If you want to escape, you have to give in. Play along. Obey.

You walk over to him, eyes on the floor for the most part, until you’re standing between his legs. You shift your gaze to his crotch and start to undo his belts. There’s no sound but the soft clink of the belts coming undone.

You can feel his eyes on you, but it’s hard to say if he’s disappointed or amused without looking up at him.

You’re surprised to see he’s not fully erect when you get the pants out of the way. You really expected this loud brash bastard was an always on kind of guy.

Maybe he really - you shake the thought away. The guilt was going to break you. No sense in worrying about the feelings of the guy who kidnapped you. Best to just focus on the task at hand.

You reach down and grab his cock, pulling it free and stroking it with your hands. Both hands. Gods and demons this thing is massive and he’s not even fully hard.

Bending at the waist you leaned down and tentatively licked the tip. Clean, a little salty, he smelled a little of oil and metal, but that could be from his arm. All that mattered to you right now was that he didn’t stink, and he didn’t expect you to ride a filthy dick.

You did what you could, licking the tip, sucking on it as your hands worked his shaft, running your tongue down his length to lubricate your hands. You weren’t being strictly clinical, but you weren’t trying to feign enjoyment.

Just something a little more like neutrality. Acceptance, even if there wasn’t much emotion in it.

“You’re so small I wonder if you can even fit me in your mouth.” Kid muses, moving your hair aside enough to watch you for a moment.

“I’m not sure I can fit you anywhere.” You admit, words mumbled against his cock. You can feel it twitch against your lips before he has you step back.

“Only one way to find out.” He pats his leg. “Put your leg up here and get yourself wet before you climb up.”

You do as he says, putting a hand in his offered hand to help keep yourself balanced as you put your other hand to work. The way he watches, without saying anything, has an effect on you whether you want to admit it or not.

You could almost imagine his lips against your neck, hands on your breasts, helping you as you prepared to take that monster twitching in anticipation between his thighs. His desire for you rolled off him without apology, but despite the situation it wasn’t oily or slimy. It didn’t disgust you and that truth was worrisome.

Once you were wet, he helped you come up onto his lap. One hand on his chest to steady yourself, the other wrapped around his shaft, lining him up with your entrance. Shifting your hips the tip of his slips away, instead of slipping in. You flinch from the sensation and try again, holding him in place longer until you can feel an uncomfortable sting.

You’re not sure how you’re going to ride this beast, when you can barely handle the tip. Once it’s in a little you keep a hold of him, trying to slowly shift yourself down further. If you can get half of him in you can hopefully get him off and get this torment over with.

The stretching sensation stings so much that you don’t know if you’ll be able to even do that much.

“That’s not gonna cut it, little mouse.” Kid grumbles, lifting your hips up and ending your struggle to get him in. “Guess your fingers just aren’t enough.”

His rough finger slips over your clit, before pushing into you easily. You can’t stifle the gasp as you grab onto his shoulders and lean against him as his finger goes deeper than yours could.

“Cute,” he huffs, pumping the single finger for a moment before pushing in a second one. The stretch makes your fingers clench and you suck in a breath, letting out a hot shuddering gasp against his chest.

You’d had sex before but his two fingers were making you feel like this was your first time. It didn’t hurt, the stretch was sweet and the dull ache made you needy. Your hips moved to help him without your meaning to, and the sharp sting from earlier was already fading.

You could feel the chuckle in Kid’s chest just before he started scissoring his fingers inside you. The sloppy wet sound was embarrassing enough, but you had to bite your lip to keep the moan from escaping you.

“Aww, don’t hold back like that.” He pouts. His metal hand grabs your hair, pulling you back and holding you in place. His thumb slips between your labia, and begins teasing your clit as his fingers curl inside you.

Your hands clamp over your mouth as your eyes go wide and you nearly cry out into your fingers. The rush of pleasure is almost painful. It's so sudden, but just before you think you’re going to lose yourself in the euphoria he lets you go, pulling his hand out and away from you.

“Now you can try again.” He says, eager grin on his lips.

You can feel his hot breath against your neck as you line him up again and begin to sink down once more. The discomfort from before wasn’t nearly as sharp, and you could feel a dull ache as his tip sinks into you, stretching you a little more than his fingers had. You’re a lot wetter now too, and manage to work more of him in much faster.

“Fuck mouse,” he husks, hands gripping the sides of the chair. “You’re - shit - tight.”

“You’re the brute with the dragon dick,” you grouch, finally glancing at him as his thick cock slides in a little deeper. You grab onto his shirt as you spread your legs open wider, taking in more of him.

You’re trying to sink down slow enough to stop when he inevitably bottoms you out. You’ve heard the brothel ladies complain about how it hurts. Despite your fears, you only feel a strange sensation as he fills more of you. It doesn’t seem possible for you to be able to fit something that’s almost the size of your own arm inside your pussy, but as you can’t go any lower, you realize the truth of it.

“I knew it.” Kid murmurs, tipping your face up with a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watering a little, you’ve never felt so full, and it feels so good you don’t even want to move. “Don’t just sit there, little mouse.” He admonishes, a truly delighted grin on his face.

“I… I can’t.” You’re nearly panting, caught between the sweet pleasure and frustrated that it is both sweet and pleasurable. “I feel like… like I’m gonna cum if I -.”

“Then cum.” He interjects, grabbing your wrists and holding your hands away from your face. “Cum against my cock. I’m not gonna punish you for it.” He leans forward, lips by your ear. “But I want to hear you.”

The shiver that ran through you caused you to clench against him, making embarrassment run through you hotly. You couldn’t keep looking at him, and shifted your gaze away as you began to move.

Using the leverage provided by Kid, with your hands in his, you leaned toward him just a little, grinding your clit against his pubes as you rode him. It didn’t take long for the combined stimulation to cause your breath to come out heavy. You knew his eyes were all over you, but you kept looking at his stomach, focusing on chasing your own high.

You sped up a little as you got closer, breath falling from your lips. Soft moans escaped you as his dick sent jolts through you, hitting places deep inside no one had ever reached. You couldn’t predict it, and decided not to fight it. Right now it was best to lose yourself a little to the pleasure.

“Close?” He hums and you nod. “Gonna need help?”

You shake your head at first, body and breath shivering with the flooding pleasure. Your head shake turns into a nod as the orgasm starts to crest and you can already feel your limbs beginning to betray you.

Kid grips your ass, helping you keep your pace. His metal hand isn’t cold like you expect, but there’s a rush of pleasure from his hands on your body that rushes the orgasm. Broken and hissed swears tumble down your chest as he helps you through the orgasm.

The pleasure rattles your senses, spots dance in your vision, and you can feel sweat slick your skin as your muscles tense from your toes to your shoulders. Kid doesn’t relent until you’re collapsed against his chest, legs dangling on either side of his thighs. Your breathing is hot, panting against him. Every twitch you can’t control shivers against the rock-hard cock buried in you, and each sensation from that seems determined to push you over the edge again.

Everything’s still for a moment, and then Kid starts to move your hips again. You suck in a breath, grabbing onto his collar. You can’t hook your feet against his legs for any sort of leverage, every time he shifts you deep the sensation jolts down your legs.

“Wa-Wait!” You cry, words clipped off in a hiss as your sensitive clit grinds against him. “Please! Please, it’s too- too much!”

“I haven’t cum yet, little mouse.” He hums, and you look up at him as pleasure jolts up your back. “That’s the whole reason you wanted to do this, right?”

You open and close your mouth a few times, too addled and hazy to think clearly. Kid grins and everything in your world stops.

“Don’t tell me you thought teasing me would make things better?” He questions and you nearly sob.

Caught between riding the edge of a second orgasm or leaving Eustass Kid of all people frustrated. After you walked yourself into this mess there wasn’t much else you could do. If you were worried he’d just randomly grab you and bend you over where ever he wanted to before now, it would certainly be worse if you left him hanging like this.

“… Please… continue.” You insist, shifting your hips as much as you can, body shivering with every ungodly jolt his cock sent through you, damnable thing seeming to hit every spot at once.

Kid’s hands moved your hips easily, and his pace was almost gentle as he moved you in long steady strokes. All you could do was hold onto his shirt, panting into his chest, nearly growling the second time he brought you to orgasm.

After that he laid you out on the bed, holding onto your ankles as he continued to take you. You kept expecting him to just pound you practically through the bed, but he didn’t seem inclined to do so. He was huge, so a certain level of rough was unavoidable, but it was… tender.

You put an arm over your eyes, the intensity of his gaze was too much and, in this position, you couldn’t hide your face in his chest. Your other hand clutched the covers as your body shivered and twitched with every thrust. There was no escaping the pleasure, and he seemed intent on making sure it was all that you felt.

The third orgasm brought tears to your eyes, and you sobbed swears as your body tensed and jerked, almost immovable in his hands. Your hair was plastered to your neck and face, sweat practically pooling at your throat and stomach. Your ankles were rubbing raw, as the sweat on you both was causing you to chafe in Kid’s hand.

Exhaustion soaked your limbs, and you couldn’t hope to move any of them when Kid pulled out, and let go of your legs. The feeling of being empty was almost overwhelming for a moment, but you rolled onto your side, expecting him to move you into another position.

Instead, he lifts you into his arms, cradling you as he walks toward the bathroom. As worn out and hazy as you are, you’re almost certain he hasn’t cum so far. Just you.

“Kid, I can-.” You start, as he shifts you enough to open the door to the bathroom.

“Can it, little mouse,” he interrupts, setting you down before he starts to fill the bath. “Let me clean you up and you can grab some rest before dinner.”

“But I-.” You can feel panic rising up inside you, this wasn’t the outcome you were hoping for.

“Mouse.” He nearly snaps the word, looking over his shoulder and glaring at you for a second before turning back to his work. “You’re not some toy for me to break.”

The two of you were silent after that. Kid cleaned you up, washed your hair even, and dried you off. By then you’d effectively rested enough to put on your clothes on your own, and you laid down for a nap you admittedly needed.

His frustration was evident. Caged, controlled, and not being laid at your feet, but evident. You weren’t sure what the issue was, what you needed to do different next time, but the concern was keeping you from dozing off completely.

“-- I won’t force my way into your pants.” He gives you a toothy grin. “It’s no good if you’re not begging me for it.”

“Tch,” he grumbles, going back to his work. “I don’t want you broken. If all I wanted was a fuck toy I’da cut your legs off before you woke up and you’d be covered in cum and spit right now.”

Understanding hits you like a cold lead weight in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t look at him, unless you had to. You didn’t say his name. Didn’t beg, or plead, or say anything to him directly. You didn’t even tell him how good he was making you feel.

Even if he had finished, the tense ending would’ve been unchanged.

[shady-scripter]

From the Dead

I LIVE RAHHHHHHH

This was just a warm up because I was going through TERRIBLE burnout but I’m back now!(hopefully) And I’m going to update my series soon(also hopefully) and I can get this show rolling again :D

Also I’ve been hyperfixating on DBH for the past week now and Connor’s my favorite character so I had to whump him🤷🏽‍♂️

This fic is also on my Ao3 ShadyScripter

Software Instability.

It flashed bright under his closed eyes as if mocking him of his choice.

He’d told Markus that he understood if he didn’t trust him. He’d led the FBI to Jericho after all. He also made Markus’s friend commit suicide, only to reactiveate him and take the location of Jericho from him.

He stared down the barrel of Jericho’s leader’s pistol at the abandoned cathedral. It’s stained windows making the moonlight fractured between the color it hit first. When his words to Markus left his lips, a flare of what had to be hope coursed through his wires. He had expected forgiveness from Markus. He thought that he might’ve accepted him because he was a deviant now too.

Then Markus told him that he wasn’t worth the risk and pulled a pistol to his forehead. That was when the rope of hope he was so desperately hanging onto snapped. Markus’s eyes looked the same then no matter the heterochromatic colors. They resembled Hank’s then, exhausted and resigned.

Connor saw the split second of fire come from the barrel. His eyes moved around. The dust coating the floor had only moved centimeters, the remaining deviants from Jericho didn’t even bat an eye.

Software Instability.

He hadn’t seen those words since he tore down the wall that fought so hard to keep him caged. The crimson pixels dispersed around his hand like groundwater finding a new spring to pour through.

He finally opened his eyes. White flakes soared through the growing wind and into his face like shrapnel after an explosion. Snow fell off the cherry blossom trees and created piles half his size. The water was frozen over, its color nearly the same as the bridges that connected the place.

The garden, he knew, Amanda’s garden.

“Connor.” He wished he could say that she didn’t turn his LED red.

He squared his shoulders and straightened his back even more than it already was. “Amanda,” he answered.

“We had big plans for you Connor, why would you do this?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head, her voice still level unlike the wind howling in his ears.

Truth.

Lie.

Say nothing.

The choices ticked through his head like a swinging clock.

He kept his lips together and tried to muster a glare. Her eyes were moving quickly across his figure. She was looking for something, analyzing him.

She then sighed. “You, Connor, are such a disappointment.” She shook her head. “However, I am thankful to Markus for doing the dirty work.” She reached up and Connor stepped back. She retracted her hand. “You must escape or our mission will truly be over.”

Before he could even take a step forward, his head was jerked to the side. His eyes opened once more.

“Shit!” A man yelled, shaking his hand with his teeth gritted. Connor slowly turned his head toward the man only to meet eyes he was familiar with.

His first mission. He was hunched over a computer and shouting orders, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Captain Allen.” Connor’s teeth grinded against each other. The mentioned man’s eyes narrowed as the hurt soldier excused himself from the room. The metal door’s creak echoed in Connor’s auditory component. Connor broke eye contact with Allen, favoring to take in his surroundings. To his left, the walls were painted the color of basaltic rock and wire lined the junction of the floor and the wall.

To his right, a woman was almost surrounded by computers, all of them flashing words he couldn’t catch.

“What an honor this is,” the captain almost sang. He took Connor’s attention by force, gripping the cheeks on his face and turning it to look him eye-to-eye. “Mara,” he called to the woman nearly enclosed by computers. “How is it coming?”

“I’m nearly done. The reboot should start in less than two minutes.”

Reboot.

They were going to reboot him. They would take everything away from him. His memory, his emotions, his relationships. He would be nothing.

He would be a machine again.

“No,” He whispered, finally breaking from his daze. “No!” He jerked his arm forward, only for it to be yanked back. He looked for what bound his wrists and saw a tong-like machine. He tried once more, but its claws nearly crushed his wrists.

Connor swung his legs, noting that they were not touching the ground.

System Memory Corrupted.

Connor ground his teeth.

The room was consumed by blue creeping up every surface, leaving Connor’s vision a deeper, stormy gray than it already was.

His first option started with Allen. A yellow outline of his body moved in front of him, shoving his forehead into Allen’s with as much force as he could muster. Allen’s red outline stepped back and then froze.

Objective not Reached, red letters flashed.

His next option started on the claws gripping his wrists tight enough to rip them off. And that’s exactly what his outline did. It left wires hanging from the severed limb. Then the next wrist was destroyed. Captain Allen fired his pistol into Connor’s forehead.

Destroyed, the red letters returned.

The last option was a yellow box that seemed to hover over the computers that surrounded the woman, Mara. The computer screens glitched, the colors jumping up and down the screen. The woman’s red outline turned toward Connor and he turned to look back at Allen’s to see his outline come closer. Connor’s yellow outline cocked his head back, bringing it forward just like he did in the other vision. Allen recoiled, stumbling backwards. Connor’s outline used the stand he was hanging from to kick himself forward, tearing himself from the mechanism. No wires hung from his severed wrists because he still had them whole. He would spill no blood. His yellow outline charged forward, tackling the Captain to the ground. The vision froze.

Execute?

The blue melted away the grey that it brought earlier. The room was given back the life his visions took from it.

Connor glanced at the computers surrounding the lady. Just like in his vision, the computer screen flashes red and multiple pop ups danced around the screen before colors consumed the screens in static.

“You-“ Allen reached his hand up to grab Connor’s face again, but Connor tilted his head backwards before jutting it against the captain’s forehead. The man yelped and stumbled back.

Connor brought his knees up to his chest before swinging them down, pushing off of the stand. The force slid his wrists out of the binding claws and unplugged a cord from his neck.

Connor fell to his hands and knees. He took two breaths before rushing toward Allen and ramming his abdomen. Connor straddled Allen without thought.

He found Allen’s pistol immediately and aimed it to his head. They were, no doubt, in a military facility. If he shot, it’d gain the attention of whoever was around.

Connor remembered the man who slapped him awake. Where was he? Would he come back? Could he make it out of the facility with just a pistol?

Where would he go if he did get out of here?

Connor took another breath. He’d solve that problem when he got there. But now, he had to deal with a smiling Allen.

“You gonna pull it?” Allen’s eyes didn’t leave the barrel.

“I won’t if I don’t have to,” Connor said, glancing behind him to keep an eye on the woman. She could be a problem.

His eyes found Allen’s again, still staring at the gun in his hand. Allen wasn’t stupid, he was planning. Connor couldn’t let him carry out his plan.

He should’ve snapped the Captain’s neck while he was standing, now I’d be much harder to kill Allen and Mara silently.

He might’ve caused too much noise just breaking free! Someone had to be coming! Or what if they’re waiting at the door!

He wouldn’t make it.

Connor took another breath and focused on Allen’s eyes. They were steady, determined to make himself unreadable. He was succeeding significantly.

He saw a thin wire cross his eyes and then he was yanked back. His eyes widened as a gasp left his lips. He was dragged off of Allen by his neck.

When he was finally able to plant his feet on the floor, he stood up. He put the pistol under his armpit and grabbed the wire wrapped around his throat. He took a step back and steadied himself, taking the control away from the woman. He then swiftly bent over, her grip so strong that she followed the wire and was thrown to the ground in front of Connor.

He didn’t mean to. He just wanted to survive. He didn’t even think when he brought his shoe down on her neck, the crack of her neck echoed in the chamber. Along with Allen’s scoff.

Allen.

Connor turned and saw Allen pulling his gun from his back. The rifle shined in the overhead light. His breath caught in his throat and Connor knew he wouldn’t survive that.

The blue pixels crawled once more.

A box on Allen’s head, another on the gun, and the last in between his legs

The box on his head saw that Connor took the pistol he tucked and put a bullet in his skull. That would cause too much noise. He’ll be rushed by someone outside.

The box on the gun had him reach for it, but Allen would shoot. Even if the bullet didn’t get to him, someone outside would be alerted, same with if he shot the man.

Lastly, his leg. Connor’s copy kicked the captain’s knees in, making him fall to the ground. He then stomped on the man’s neck, just as he did Mara.

Connor rushed forward, bringing his knee to his chest once more and flew his foot into Allen’s right knee. The man yelped and fell to the ground. There, Connor stomped on the man’s neck. Allen’s eyes traced the room frantically before finally going still.

It was like a gun went off with all of the ringing going on in his brain.

Connor grabbed the pistol from underneath his armpit and walked towards the door. He put his ear on the metal door.

Nothing.

Connor’s eye twitched.

The room was soundproof.

He cursed under his breath. He could’ve just shot them and been down. Connor shook his head.

Connor slowly opened the door, his grip on the pistol likely making thirium flow under his fingers.

“Cap-“ Connor put a bullet through the man’s head. He walked to the corpse and looked around.

No footsteps. No one was around.

Connor took the man’s clothes and put them on. He took another breath before pulling the visor of the helmet down. He spoke, imitating the dead man’s voice

He walked down the hall, pistol in hand and a rifle on his back.

He reached the elevator after only seeing around fifteen other soldiers. He greeted them all with his stolen voice. When the elevator asked for identification, he used the voice again.

He shook his head as he exited the elevator. He took one step, then two, then red was flashing across the pristine pearly white walls. He rushed toward the door. It was so close! Only a few feet away! He could get out of here!

Shots rang behind him and he watched a barrier start to crawl down the exit door. “Lockdown commencing. No officer is authorized to exit the facility at this moment,” a woman’s voice carried through the intercom.

The door was glass. The door was glass. The door was glass. The door was glass.

Connor crashed into the glass door shoulder first. It was tempered glass, likely bulletproof glass. Thirium rushed down his, definitely dislocated, shoulder, but he kept moving his legs.

The thirium leaking from his shoulder had begun to drip down his fingers when he reached his destination.

It wasn’t a luxurious house. One floor, painted terribly off white, and not too big. But this was a house he knew. And Connor found himself praying that this could be him home.

He knocked on the front door. A dog barked on the other side of the door. He heard the dogs paws on the kitchen tiles.

Connor knocked again, tears streaming down his face. “Please Lieutenant,” he rested his head against the door and whispered.

The doorknob clicked and the door opened. Connor fell forward and met carpeted floor.

“Jesus!” Connor used his uninjured arm to push himself up.

“Hank?”

“C’mon kid,” Hank groaned, looping his arms under Connor’s unharmed shoulder and helped him to his feet. Connor leaned on the wall next to the door, the bronze hook right next to his ears.

The old man looked outside, looking right, then left, then right again, before shutting the door and locking every lock. He wrapped Connor’s good arm around his shoulders and led him to his couch.

Thirium level dangerous, blinked in front of the TV.

“Alright! Now what the fuck happened to you?” Hank barely raised his voice. He was angered, but he didn’t put a hurting hand on Connor.

“Markus shot me.”

“He what!” Hank turned to the television, its embers emitting enough light to make the entire living room visible without any other help.

On the TV, they were showing a circle made up of miscellaneous things. Cars, wooden crates, it was all covered in pasty white snow. “He said that I wasn’t worth the risk.

Warning!

Warning!

Thirium level dangerous!

Hank took a breath and sat next to Connor. “Well, it looks like whatever Markus does decides if you’re staying here or not.”

“What?”

Hank turned to Connor. “Listen, I’m not heartless, yeah? I’m not gonna make ya walk outta here just to- what?- get shot?” Hank shrugged his shoulders then pointed to the television. “If he gets his shit together, then I’m sure you can walk outside without dying.”

Thirium level dangerous! Seek repair!

“That’s nice of you, Lieutenant.” Connor slouched backwards on the couch and shut his eyes. “That’s awfully generous of you.”

Hank scoffed. “Yeah, don’t get used to it.”

Shutting down in 5:34.

“Thank you for everything.”

Hank shot up and Connor’s eyes opened once more. “You’re getting shit all over my couch!” Hank sped off somewhere, Connor’s eyes followed him as he opened up a closet in the hallway to his room. Metal fell to the foot, bringing a rambunctious clang! with it. Hank stormed away from the closet after leaving it a few curses.

He carried a roll of black in his hand and a gray bag that seemed to pulse a light blue. “I’m gonna patch that up real quick.”

“Lieutenant, you are aware that my surface is not made out of adhesive, correct?”

“Listen,” Hank leaned down over Connor, blocking Markus’s demonstration with his body. “Duct tape fixes everything. You’ll learn soon enough.” Hank stuck the end of the tape where the rift between Connor’s shoulder and arm were supposed to meet and began wrapping the roll around the injury.

Shutting down in 4:43.

One side of Connor’s lips quirked upward. “Everything?”

“Yep,” Hank said, his eyebrows scrunched as he worked with the tape. “At least for the meantime. When you’re not openly a fugitive anymore, then we’ll take off the duct tape and you can get repaired.”

Connor nodded, watching the roll circle his broken arm again and again.

Hank ripped the tape after the twelfth circle and patted it on the surrounding tape. “That’ll do it.” He stepped back, admiring his work.

Shutting down in 1:22.

“C’mon, drink up.” Hank reached the grey packet out to Connor. Connor saw that it wasn’t actually gray, just a navy blue. He gingerly took the packet out of Hank’s hand and downed the thirium inside.

Thirium level medium, shut down cancelled.

Connor sighed, what he knew was relief flooded his system. “Thank you.”

[justahopelessssromantic]

A/N: Just a small idea I had while the power was out this morning and thought I would try to write a little something. Please let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading it you do

Warnings: Regardless of content 18+ only please! Angst

After the shooting of Sheriff Peterkin Rafe goes to the one person who has always been there for him.

It was just after two in the morning when she looked at her clock after the first raps were heard on her door. Groggily she stepped one foot after the other as she got out of bed trudging down the small hallway to the front door, the knocking getting more frantic as she neared.

“Baby, open up, it's me,” she heard the muffled voice of Rafe on the other side.

His voice alone was enough to snap her awake. Her fingers worked quickly on all the locks having done the same thing dozens of times now.

As soon as the door swung open he was in her arms clutching on to her as if she was the only thing keeping him alive. She didn't know it at the time but she was. Maybe if she had known things would have played out differently.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Her voice was soft, sweet as honey.

He held on to her tighter, his face nuzzled into her chest muffling his soft sobs. She ran her hands up and down his back soothing the pain just enough. She waited patiently for him, allowing him to take whatever comfort he needed from her now. She was always so patient with him.

After about ten minutes he finally found the strength to pull away but not look at her, he couldn't look at her. Her soft eyes would only give him false hope that everything would be okay and he knew nothing would after that day.

She grabbed his hand not minding at all how tightly he held on to her and led him to her bedroom. “It's okay,” she promised, “you don't have to tell me now. We'll sleep on it and you'll feel better in the morning.”

He nodded, following her lead as she slipped under the covers making sure to pull them over the two of them as they settled in. She could smell the alcohol on him mixed with the weed and didn't want to think what else he had consumed before coming over as he pulled her close to his chest tucking his chin on her shoulder.

He waited until she fell asleep, her chest rising and falling at a peaceful pace. “I did something bad,” he whispered out into the darkness. “Something really really bad.” Half of him hoped she heard him while the other half prayed she didn't.

“Hmm?” She woke slightly, her eyelids heavy as she looked at him. “Did you say something?”

He swallowed the bile creeping up in his throat and gave her a small smile, enough to ease any worry she may have. “No, it's just the wind. Go back to sleep now.” It pained him to bury the truth deep within him and muster up that lie.

As much as he wanted to, Rafe couldn't tell her anything. And fuck did he desperately want to tell her. He was as selfish as they come, wanting to pour his heart out right then and there knowing she would comfort him, take care of him, and help him in any way she could because somehow she saw some glimmer of light in his darkness, some good where no one else could see it.

However instead he used the sliver of good to fight his demons. He wouldn't let them win. Not this time, not with her. She was far too good to get drug under the current with him.

So he laid there a few more hours holding her as she slept, taking in his last moments with her. The woman he loved more than anything in the world who for some reason loved his sorry ass back. Then he carefully slipped out of bed and out the door leaving nothing but a note with a simple it's over, vowing to himself to never see her again.

[roxyteal]

No Sprite.

For a moment, Billy's mind failed him, as he attempted to process this universal truth dropped on him just now.

No Sprite. No Sprite in this Coca-Cola Freestyle machine that Viktor insisted on integrating into this movie theatre roughly half a year ago. Was that Tarwill pranking him? What'd he done recently to deserve such an injustice, served upon him with the cold, emotionless finality of... Something, Billy realized he couldn't even figure out the end of that metaphor.

No Sprite. Not even Diet Sprite, the clearly inferior version of Sprite. Which, the well-made robot had to admit, he would've settled for if it came down to the wire.

But no. There was nothing.

"Hey, uh... Ya good over there?" At last, Billy heard Denied from nearby. His refreshments of choice happened to be a bucket of popcorn chicken (and that in of itself took some time to prepare), and a medium water (and would probably be a crime if that was out). Neither of the food items were currently selected, but he remembered the order.

When Billy didn't respond, the merman looked over. He snorted into a laugh. "Oh my God dude. Do not be dramatic about this. Look, just-..."

He gestured. "Just. Try this one. It has it."

Billy followed his gaze to where Denied was waving. What was previously just out of immediate view, revealed a second machine. Out of three, apparently, now that they were visible. True to his word, this one's screen was different - Sprite (and Diet) were lit up.

Oh thank God.

The well-made robot moved on to it, proceeding with unprecedented ease - at least compared to just moments ago, where he was probably looking foolish.

With the most level-headed tone he could muster, Billy retorted, "I was not going to be dramatic. Give me a little credit."

He watched the promised soda fill his (also medium) cup, grinning at the soothing visage of bubbles and sounds of fizz, lifting the ice to the top. Meanwhile, Denied stated, rather bluntly, "Ya can't lie for shit, Billy."

His brother was right, but, Billy wasn't about to admit that. Never!

[rubberduckrobin]

Section 2: To fall for someone - Shane x M! Reader

Section 1 link (tumblr)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50214880

Part 4: A part of me wants a part of you.

Stacking shelves at Joja Mart. As usual. 

Watching the clock over my shoulder, ticking for worthless time. As usual.

What’s not usual is the new guy. And what’s even more unusual is that ever since I told him to go away…he has.

Not even occasional side glances. Not one breath in my direction. I told him my wish and he respected it.

I kind of regret it.

I regret it.

It’s weird. He’s being weird and I don’t like it. 

I could fix things, sure, but how? And why should i? Only because of guilt? Or is there something more to it that I haven’t noticed yet…

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“I thought you hated me! I thought…you found me weird. And hated me like everyone else.”

Back at the saloon and as drinks are spilled, truths are too. 

Things are getting heated.

“I..don’t. That’s why…” I stumble and hitch on my breath, heart pounding from the weight of tonight's drinks. 

Before I can say anymore, a sudden exhaustion holds me hostage against the table in front of me. 

Muffled disruption rings in my ears as I feel my dead weight being hauled upwards. A heaving sickness swells in my stomach as I’m carried away.

My mind once again, alone, I fall into a daze. A murky, empty daze.

Am I dying?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“He’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Are you certain, Miss Marnie? I can stay and help out for a bit.”

“Well…since he’s been out for a while and looks like he isn’t gonna recover for quite some time…sorry to ask you this, but can you help out on the farm? If you have time, that is.”

“Of course. I am a farmer, after all.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice, despite only hearing half of what they are saying. 

I have one ear open, the other concealed by my duvet. 

It smells fresh. It smells new. 

Moonlight is now sunlight. My clothes are warm. 

I’m not dead. I don’t know how I feel, but I'm not dead.

My door creaks open. I can’t muster the strength to tell whoever it is to get out, so I pretend to sleep. 

I don’t care who it is. 

I don’t care…

“Shane…”

Marnie?

“I’ve brought you some fresh eggs for breakfast…”

I can’t lie, not even to myself; I'm hungry and my stomach is desperate for energy.

I turn slowly. 

Behind Marnie, is the figure of someone I’ve come to recognise all too well. 

(R/N.)

I know him, despite not knowing much about him. I know he’s considerate, I know he carried me here, and I know he plans to stay to do my farm work for me. 

I want to know more. 

“Here you go. Fresh eggs.” 

Marnie leaves after placing them on the bedside table, but (R/N) stays. 

He stays. He doesn’t know me well but he stays. I wouldn’t, if i saw someone as pathetic as me-

“Hey. You doin’ alright there?”

“Mm…”

“Alright, alright. I just came to say…I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,”

I turn to face the wall, to hide my shame, and also the tears forming in the ducts of my eyes. Despite not knowing the difference between not crying and crying, I can still tell when it’s going to refresh my old tears. 

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing. It’s my fault.”

“I’m sorry because I shouted at you. I ranted and took it out on you, when you clearly were having a tough time too.”

“Whatever.”

“You are the one who has nothing to be sorry for, remember that… If you need anything, I’ll be helping out on your and Marnie’s farm. See ya.” He turns “Oh. And…I really do hope you feel better soon.”

And he’s gone.

 But with him, he tugs my heartstrings.

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Part 5: I’m beginning to realise how serious this thing is: love. 

A few hours that feel like years, and a few breaths in, I’m now awake. 

Not sleeping, not fine. But awake and not sick.

I need to see how (R/N) is doing.

A steady walk to the farm, it’s not too far from the barnhouse I stay in. 

Didn’t R/N mention he was a farmer…? I don’t remember there being a new farmer in Pelican Bay…

Then I see him. A silhouette of a farmer's glory. A lengthy shovel in one hand, the other wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

For some reason, my heart beats a little bit more than usual. 

I trudge over the fields and  make my way over to him.

“Oh! Hey Shane…”

Ouch. Awkward.

“Hey. I…wanted to…thank you.” I start.

“Huh? For what?”

“For helping me…you know. When I fainted? And…for taking my job on the farm.”

As though by instinct, I take the shovel from him and distract myself by completing my work, which he was doing for me. I shovel as he speaks 

“Just helping out a friend.”

I pause.

“…You see me as a friend?”

“Oh shit. You don’t?”

“…”

I’m too bewildered to speak.

“Sorry. I misunderstood.”

“No… It’s fine... You carried me home. I appreciate that. We can be friends…I guess.”

“Really?”

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“Oh, shit.”

There it is. The warmth. He laughs and the spring chill no longer taints my skin.

“Shane…”

“What.”

“…Is it just me or do I get the feeling there is something…more…to this sudden ‘friendship’.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Nevermind. Don’t mind me.”

He takes the shovel from me and starts doing my work again. In a sudden snatch, I steal it back, planting it firmly into the dirt.

“What?”

“No. I misunderstood something, that’s all. I’ve just been getting this feeling…well, maybe it's just me. It’s fine. Whatever. Let’s leave it at that.”

“No. Go on.”

“Let me get to know you properly first, like i've been trying to do for ages, and then maybe I'll tell you.”

What a tease.

“Fine.”

“We shouldn’t go to the saloon again tonight. Even though it's the weekend, it doesn't mean you can get away with more beer and make your new friend worry again, now can you?”

“Shut up.”

“How’s my house?”

Shit. 

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Shit indeed. 

I’ve been invited to his house. Tonight. It seems like something that would be a date? But that's weird. We only just became ‘friends’. I only agreed because I didn’t want to run anymore. And a part of me knew he was helping with my other…issues too. If he can do it in a day, imagine his influence in more.

I have nothing to wear, not even a smile. Not even a fake smile. 

I knocked once. In my scruffy attire, I knock. 

Sweat runs down the nape of my neck. 

Do I smell bad? 

“Come in! It’s open.”

It's small, but homely. A spread of welcoming food is laid on a small table in the kitchen. Thank goodness there wasn’t the cliché of wine glasses and dimmed lights like you would have on a date…wait, what am I thinking. This isn’t a date. Probably never will be. Probably. 

“Hey Shane! New buddy. New pal. New friend.”

I cringe. I can also sense some tension, and I don’t just think it's me. 

“Sit, sit. I have food. Plenty for a lengthy ‘getting to know each other discussion’”

Why am I even here? I don’t even have an interesting life to share. To be honest, I’m here out of curiosity. 

“So…Mr Handsome Hangover, how’s life?”

“That nickname…”

I practically scowl. It brings back memories of the day after the night we met. Not that it’s a bad memory, but it reminds me of how sick I was. And how sick I still feel. 

“Fine. So. Tell me about yourself, and I shall return the favour.”

“…there’s nothing interesting about me.”

“Yes there is. I find it interesting that you always chose to stack the same shelves everyday. What is it that you like so much about canned beans?”

I think at this point he knows me better than I know myself,

I sigh.

“It’s just a habit since my first day, I guess. Maybe it’s because it's closest to the clock.”

“Ah yes, the clock. So you know when it’s time to get off work…I see. Well, tell me about what you like then? Apart from beer, eggs and possibly beans.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Oh. I see. Um…well, I'll tell you what I like at the moment then.”

“Tormenting and teasing me?”

“Close! I like this sweet little town I just moved into, and I like meeting new people. That’s where you come in.”

“I remember now. I like being left alone.”

“Ouch. Touché. Ever since I saw you on that gloomy day, I knew you were not one for conversation.”

“Yet you kept trying. Until you thought I hated you. Why?”

“…why not? Someone staring at the sky is bound to pique your interest, is it not?”

“Touché.” He makes a good point, I guess. I still don’t get it, but I’ll move on. “What made you want to move here and pick up farming?”

“The classic protagonist backstory of course…my grandpa died.”

“Oh. I’m…sorry.”

“It’s fine. I now take care of his old farm.”

“Wow. All by yourself?”

“Yep!” He adds in a wink: “Hopefully not for long.”

Gosh darn it, why does my heart choose the most inconvenient times to beat? I feel more like I'm dying now, than I did yesterday with my whole dizzy fainting moment.

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. A farmer partner would be pretty cool. Moving on,” Wow, this guy knows how to keep the ball rolling in the right court, “Shane, what was your first impression of me?”

I realise just now that the food on the table has gone untouched, I signal with my eyes and we both simultaneously dig in, still engaged in conversation. 

Oh my goodness, this food is the best I've eaten and I don’t know whether it's because I haven’t eaten since morning, or because of something else but dear gosh…

“I don’t know. Persistent. Annoying…” and in a last mumble, as though reassuring my thoughts, “interesting…” 

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. What’s wrong with me?

“I heard that! You have an interest in me, eh?”

“No, don’t get on your high horse just yet. I said I thought you were interesting. Not…that.” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah.”

Suddenly, the person I thought was so good at keeping conversation, has become quiet.

“(R/N) Do you have a family elsewhere?”

“My parents are in the big city.”

“I see.”

“Why’d you ask?”

“Just wondering.”

“Wondering, you say. Huh. Okay. Well, I’m just wondering…what do you think of my food?”

My heart skips a beat.

“You…made this?”

“Who else? You work at Joja Mart, you know the food there’s as shit as the management.”

“True. So…you like to cook?”

“Of course. A farmer has their own stuff so why not put it to use.”

“This food is great.”

“Why, thank you!”

“I didn’t say it was any more than that, don’t act as though you just won an award or something.”

“I never did such a thing.” smirking comes naturally for him. 

“…what was that thing you said earlier?”

“What thing? Oh that? It’s nothing. I was just being stupid. Getting my hopes up.” 

“Your hopes up? About what?”

“I’m somewhat…mildly…a little bit…attracted to you. And…you sorta gave me the vibe that you felt the same. You know, with all the staring. And the ‘go aways’ and blushing.”

“…I…”

“It’s fine. Forget about it. I understand.”

He’s done with his plate so he casually picks it up as he stands, seemingly to put it away in the sink.

“Are you done with your food?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I say. I can’t look at him. My heart hurts. 

“Seconds?”

“No.” 

“All right.”

With his back turned, my heart beat comes faster. I'm now left alone with my thoughts as he is no longer paying attention to me. 

What did he mean by…attracted to me?

“(R/N.)”

“Hmm?”

A nervous hum tickles in his throat.

“What did you mean?”

“Oh, just my unrequited feelings for you. Nothing big. Let’s just drop it.”

“I think I feel it too.”

“What?”

“But we only just met.”

“What?”

He turns to me, gently dropping the dishes he was mid way through scrubbing.

“So…I’d like to get to know you better.” 

“What?”

“I’d like to get to know you better.”

“What?“

“For pete’s sake, just give me seconds and tell me more about you!”

“So you did want seconds.”

My stomach gurgles.

Maybe just a little.

“I just washed the plates.”

“Ugh.”

“Fine. I have another. Bear with.”

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“Here we are again. The ‘talking phase’. So…how about you tell me what on earth is going on and the fact you just said ‘I think I feel it too’ when I was telling you about my feelings?!”

“…”

“…What? Cat got your tongue?”

“More like a (R/N.)”

“Smooth. But tell me, really, do you really, truly, ‘feel’ something for me?”

Do i? I do. I’m almost certain. A flutter in my guts, a warmth, a heartbeat faster than normal.

It's definitely something, if not indigestion, and it's something I haven't felt in a while. Especially not for another guy. 

“Yes.”

“Cause’ if you don’t then I- wait…really?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

I can feel a different type of heat rise to my cheeks now, and I hide it beneath the palm of my hand.

“I kind of wanna make you say it again.”

“Well I won’t.”

“Fine. Well, why did you wanna learn more about me?”

“Because we met two days ago, and we were both intoxicated.”

“So? We’re here now and we feel the same as we did that night. I think our meeting was fated. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

“They both die at the end.” 

“So?“

“That's exactly the point. Listen..I'm not who you think I am. I’m a loser. I drink beer everyday to drown in my sorrow of a depressing repetition of the days, and everyone pities me to the point of isolation. You don’t wanna get mixed up with me. Leaving will hurt less than staying.”

“I don’t mind a bit of pain. I’m quite the drama king, after all. You can’t be that bad.”

“Well I am. This is why things won’t work.”

“It will, if we just try-“

“I better go.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?“

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Part 5: Where songbirds sing, hawks circle elsewhere.

Stacking shelves at Joja Mart. As usual. 

Watching the clock over my shoulder, ticking for worthless time. As usual.

(R/N isn’t here). I’m glad but regretful.

Why do I mess up everything?

The door to the shop opens with a satisfied ring, but I keep my focus on stocking the shelves. Whoever enters that door, it doesn’t matter. Just like I don’t matter. 

“Shane.”

Marnie?

“Shane.”

What’s she doing here?

“Shane!”

I jolt out of bed, in a heavy sweat. 

What’s going on?

Marnie's concerned face towers over me.

“Gosh! You’re sweating buckets. Don’t worry. Hold still.” 

She wipes my head with a wet cloth and the relief is almost instant. There's still a tang of heat on my body. 

I’m sick on the floor in front of her. How humiliating.

“For explanation, (R/N) found you on the cliffside with a bit too many drinks, and you’d got sick from the downpour last night. He took you in, dear.”

(R/N)? See, he’s too kind. I don’t deserve this. I should just-

“Marnie? The herbal tea’s ready.”

I can hear him. He’s close. I need to run.

“Woah, Shane. Stay in bed.”

From hands in the hallway, she takes a tray with tea and hands it to me.

“For the hangover.”

I grunt in a thankful return and sip the tea. 

But my mind wanders off, not to the bitter-sweet taste of the tea, but to the thought of (R/N) being so close. Yet so far. 

“Can you get R/N, Marnie.”

“Of course, dear.”

And here he is. In my room. Again. Helping me,again. 

I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this. I don’t-

“Shane. You're heating up.”

The cold touch of his hand to my forehead shocks me.

The colder the hands, the warmer the heart, they say. 

“I’m fine…”

“No you’re not. Rest for a little. We can chat later, if that’s what you want. Okay?”

“I want to talk. Now.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-“

“Before I met you. Everyday felt like a nightmare. A constant one. A never ending one… But then when I saw you looking at the sky, something clicked. I wanted change. And I think you're just perfect for that.”

“What are you on about? You sound like you’re delivering a main character monologue. I thought I was the protagonist here, not you…You're too feverish for a normal conversation-“

“I want to try. Being with you.” 

“You're too sick to think…”

“I was thinking last night.”

“You were too drunk last night to think.”

“I was thinking in my dreams.”

“Wel, I can’t argue against that, but now that just sounds stupid, doesn’t it.”

“What I'm saying is that…you changed my life. Within three days. And without you, things got worse. I realised that last night. But…”

“But…?”

Before I can finish, the heat absorbs me, and I fall asleep once more.

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Part 6: A longing heart, a missing grave of stone. 

Maybe it’s okay to trust my instincts. I should tell him today. 

“(R/N). I have feelings for you.”

“Pfft. You think I didn’t know that? We’ve been on like 6 dates this month.” 

“No. I’ve never properly told you,”

“We’ve literally-“

“Ugh. Just please say it back before I go back to my old ways.”

Part of it was a joke, but deep down, I know, without (R/N), I really would have. 

“Are you seriously giving me a bouquet while threatening me with your past indulgences?”

“What? No…maybe. So, what do you think? Too traditional, handing you a bouquet?”

“No. It’s perfect. As long as it's not a mermaid pendant…”

He laughs and that warmth from the first day we met is still there. 

I’m so glad I met him.

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Author's note: Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave comments/requests :)

[tae-ffxiv]

CW: barely-mentions of sex?

This was supposed to be a simple conversation

---

“... Do you ever think about sex?” Dayir speaks the question into the comfortable silence that often settles over them before they fall asleep. It’s taken him weeks to get it out. 

There’s a brief delay before the reply comes. “How do you mean?”

Dayir rolls his head in Amba’s direction. He’s laying on his back, eyes directed at the ceiling, but his face is angled ever-so-slightly in Dayir’s direction.

How do you think? 

It’s the first response that pops into Dayir’s head, but he purses his lips to avoid speaking it, unhelpful as it would be. 

“I mean, is there any part of you that wants to have sex with me?”

Another pause. Amba rolls onto his side to look him in the eye, brow creased with a frown. “Is that… something that you want?”

“Yes. It is.”

“I see.” 

There’s a finality to the statement, and Dayir wonders if he ought to push the subject. But before he can, Ambaghai sits up. He expects him to leave, but he doesn’t - instead only crossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his elbows on them. His brow is furrowed, lips pursed, clearly searching for words. Dayir watches him, and waits.

“I don’t -” Amba starts, leaning forward a touch more, “I mean - I just -” The words are punctuated by a frustrated growl.

Dayir feels a forced smile twitch onto his lips without even thinking about it. He drags himself up into a sitting position next to Amba.

“It’s okay. You can say no. I won’t be upset.” The words strike a dissonant chord with the sinking feeling in his stomach. Hurt. Disappointment.

Amba shakes his head, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He keeps his face angled away. “That’s not - I mean, it isn’t - I don’t - I just, I -” another shake of the head, and a frustrated huff of breath.

Dayir rests a hand on his forearm, and he sees Amba’s eyes shift over to it. “Take a breath. I can wait.”

The barest of nods from Amba, and he takes a long breath, eyes fixed on Dayir’s hand. 

A silence falls over them. Amba barely moves as he tries to organize his thoughts. Minutes pass slowly. The tension doesn’t disappear from Amba’s shoulders, but some degree of clarity does seem to make its way onto his face. 

Eventually he speaks into the silence, words low and hesitant. 

“I just… sometimes feel that you don’t… want me.” The words send a shock of guilt through him. Dayir tries not to react - to just listen - but he can’t help that his fingers tighten on Amba’s forearm as he continues.

“Or that you don’t want me to love you. Or touch you. Or even care about you any more.”

Any response he could muster is frozen in his throat as Amba crumples in on himself, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. 

He shakes his head. “Nevermind. I should just -”

And now he does make to leave, twisting his body to slide off the bed. Dayir slides forward at the same time, wrapping his arms about his middle and dragging him back down to the mattress. He presses his forehead into his back, head habitually angled so he won’t stab him with his horns.

Amba’s hand drops to one of Dayir’s wrists, tugging at it as though to pry him off, though the attempt is half-hearted at best. 

Dayir has no words - what is he supposed to say to that? No words to deny or to erase the pain that he had caused. But silence will only hurt more.

He fights the tightness in his throat to force something out. Anything.

“Please.” That’s all he gets out, at first.

What the fuck was that? Inadequate. 

“I’m sorry.” He continues. “I just - I have some shit…”

Amba’s other hand rests over his. He doesn’t make to get away this time.

“Am I wrong?” Ambaghai asks.

Dayir can only respond with silence. Not willing to speak the lie, not willing to confirm the truth. 

It’s nearly a minute before Ambaghai shifts, and Dayir loosens his grip. No point forcing him to stay. But Amba doesn’t leave. He turns to sit sideways on the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking over Dayir’s face briefly before averting it. There’s a pained twist to his brow that he seems determined to ignore.

“I have thought about it. A bit.” He states.

Dayir blinks. “What?”

It takes him a moment to remember the initial topic of the conversation. What he’d intended to be a simple question. And now he searches Ambaghai’s face as he waits for the answer.

One of Amba’s brows twitches. He purses his lips, angling his jaw in thought, as though trying to decide whether to say what’s in his brain.

Dayir waits.

Eventually Ambaghai lets out a reluctant sigh. 

“I -” he shakes his head. “Half the time I kiss you more than a few seconds, you pull away and look…” he shrugs, the gesture extending to his hands, lifting them slightly from his lap to join in the motion before he drops them back to his lap. “I don’t know. Like you regret it?” He shakes his head again. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

Dayir’s mouth twitches into the shadow of a wry smile. “Yeah. I could stand to work on that.” he says on a huff of breath. Then reprimands himself internally. He can’t play this off with humor. He nods in understanding. “You know it’s nothing to do with you, right?”

“That doesn’t change it.”

Dayir bows his head, staring at his hands and he fidgets with the fabric of the covers. “Yeah.”

There’s a long silence, and Ambaghai shifts to prop his back against the headboard. He stares at the far wall while Dayir is lost in thought.

I just… sometimes feel that you don’t… want me.

The words replay in Dayir’s head, along with the strain in Amba’s voice as he’d said it.

“I do want you.” he whispers into the silence.

But who is he to have what he wants? Dayir screws his eyes shut, bowing his head down to bury his face in his palms and hide the tears that abruptly escape him.

And who is he to hurt his own husband because of what he thinks he’s deserving of? Amba, at least, deserves better.

He takes a shuddered breath. 

A warm hand rests on his shoulder. Then another on his waist, tugging at him. He’s hit by the urge to pull away. To deny any comfort - to sit alone in his guilt and remorse. But he can’t do that. Not without disregarding the entire conversation.

He freezes, then forces himself into motion against what he seems to instinctively want to do. He wipes at his eyes and looks up at Amba. 

“Amba, I think I’m truly fucked.” He lets out an uneven, shuddered laugh as he allows Amba to pull him in close.

“You are.” Amba confirms as Dayir settles in against him, head resting on his shoulder.

There’s a stretch of silence, punctuated by the odd sniffle from Dayir.

He almost misses the barely-spoken statement from Ambaghai.

“Not the way you want to be.”

Dayir chokes on a breath. He straightens to look at Amba.

“Did you just…?” 

Make a sex joke?

Amba keeps his gaze on the far wall, stone-faced. Almost. His mouth gives a slight humorous twitch.

Dayir gives him an incredulous look, and feels a smile start to twist his expression away from the more complicated emotions. Laughter begins to bubble up from his chest, sounding almost manic as it mixes in with continued sobs.

“You can’t just -” his words are cut off as they’re drowned in sobbed laughter.

Ambaghai shifts. “I didn’t - are you -”

Dayir looks up at Ambaghai, and the sheer panic in his face only makes Dayir dissolve further into laughter.

“I’m fine, I’m - fine. I - I promise.” He manages to force out.

It takes him a few long seconds, but the manic laughter subsides as he manages to get control over it. He gives Ambaghai a long look.

Ambaghai returns the look. “It wasn’t that funny.” He says.

Dayir offers a much smaller, much more controlled laugh as he wipes at his eyes. “No, but you caught me at a weird time.”

Amba’s eyes slide off to one side, then the other.

“Is that something I need to apologize for?”

“No.” Dayir settles back into his earlier position against Amba. “You don’t have to apologize at all.”