#i have accomplished almost nothing this year i meant to

[naamahdarling]

.

[unoislazy]

Take A Break

Viktor x Reader (Part One)

Viktor doesn’t want you to be like him. You’re taking a break and you’re gonna like it.

A/N: Gonna let y'all in on a secret, this is a revamp of a very old fanfic i wrote years ago when arcane first came out. It's on an old account of mine on a different platform, not gonna mention which one, but it's still up if you can find it.

You were committed.

Committed to helping out Viktor in any way that you could. You were just an apprentice in the academy, technically you weren’t even supposed to be near Viktor when it came specifically to rankings, you should’ve been focusing on lesser issues.

But with Viktor it was different. You always admired his want to help people, the way he put his all into every project that he believed would benefit the people of the Undercity.

He saw in you the same passion to help, so he kept you around. He very quickly learned he also just enjoyed your company which made you the perfect lab partner when his original one, Jayce Talis, was no longer able to help as often. The two of you very quickly became good friends, great friends even. It is to be expected for two people who get along that also spend almost every waking hour of every single day together.

The ideas he held for the potential of HexTech and how it could help the people always warmed your heart. It gave you a new spark of inspiration every time he would rattle on about some new idea he had.

Because of these ideas, you wanted to put your all into helping him achieve his goal, even if that meant spending countless hours in the lab overnight. It became a habit of yours, unbeknownst to Viktor, as far as he was aware you just got to the lab really early in the morning and just left very late at night. It wasn’t until one day, he walked into the lab extremely early in the morning, having come up with an idea and wanting to test it out, and found you fast asleep on leaning against your workbench.

The soft clink of Viktor’s cane echoed throughout the room as he made his way over to you. He looked around at all the things you had written down, all the work you had accomplished, as well as the mess that your failed attempts had made. Once he finally got close enough to you, he had noticed the slightest bit of drool that had begun to collect atop your hand that you had resting under your face to give yourself some sort of cushion. He let out a soft chuckle at this before clearing his throat rather loudly.

This attempt to wake you didn’t work, so he tried again. Once that was also met with a fail, he tried once more, this time making sure to tap you on the shoulder with a bit of force. This finally managed to wake you as you shot up from your seat, almost falling back onto the floor from the sheer force you rose with.

“You know, sleeping in the lab… it isn’t exactly advised.” Viktor said in a teasing manner as you looked around frantically before your eyes landed on him. You sighed with relief, calming down as you finally figured out who it was that woke you.

“Viktor, it’s just you.” You said, a hand over your heart as you tried to almost manually lower your heart rate back to normal. The scare he gave you was almost enough to make you think you had entered cardiac arrest. He chuckled at your reaction before taking a seat on the stool next to you, his cane still in hand as he spoke,

“You’ve been busy I see. Find anything new?” He asked, interested in your developments. You sighed, this time not out of relief but instead out of disappointment.

“Nothing yet. I can’t seem to figure out exactly how these runes work. They just don’t make any sense. It's like learning a new language without a dictionary to go off of.” You said as you rested your head on your hand once again, now noticing the drool that you quickly wiped off.

“I see well, there's no sense in returning to it right away.” He said as his eyes drifted from you, down to the pile of papers that had been spread across your desk. Some of them were his, a lot of them were yours. He could easily tell they were yours by the random doodles you would have littered across the margins of your pages. Before meeting you he would’ve thought such a thing would be a waste of space, since then however, he finds it an endearing quirk of yours that he looks forward to seeing when he goes back to look over both of your notes.

“What? But I know there is a way to fix this. I just need to,” You began to explain, eager to finish the work you started only to be interrupted by a sigh from the thin man.

“Can’t believe I am the one saying this, you are overworking yourself.” He said, his face fairly blank of emotion as he spoke to you.

“I can’t believe you just said that either.” You said, your eyes widening slightly as you met his gaze. If anyone had room to talk about overworking oneself, it certainly was not Mr. HexTech number 2.

“Something new every day I suppose. As I said, sleeping in the lab is not advised.” He said with a shrug, one of his hands leaning on his crutch as he leaned a bit more forward, knowing you would still object.

“You’ve done it.” You, as he knew you would, objected.

“Well eh, I’m not exactly the best rule follower…” He retorted with a bit of strain towards the end of his sentence.

“So why should I be?” You asked.

“Because you need a break.” He responded in a lighthearted yet still somehow stern way. He was serious but he wasn’t mad, he knew better than anyone that it was hard for such a committed worker to finally take time to prioritize themself. Half the time he only took breaks because Heimerdinger told him to.

“But you-”

“Ah, no. This is not about me.” He interrupted again, holding a hand up to signal you to stop talking.

“But I-”

“A break.” He said, leaning forward.

“But-”

“A. Break.” He repeated, almost as if he was telling you to drop it, which in a very obvious way he was. You sighed once again, realizing you weren't going to win such an argument.

“Fine, yes I’ll take a break.” You finally agreed. You rolled your eyes before turning back to your desk, and resting back in the position you had once been in. You head of your hand and your eyes facing the ungodly amount of work you still had yet to finish.

“Good, now come with me.” He spoke quickly, getting up from his chair as if he had somewhere to be.

“What, why? Where are we going?” You questioned, propping yourself up as you watched the pale man walk around your desk towards the door before stopping to turn back and look at you.

“We are going to take a break.”

Confused by his words you felt you had no other choice but to get up and follow the strange yet intelligent man. Everything he did confused you, you could never confidently predict what he was going to do next, every time you thought you could he would just add another option to the board. Knowing better than to question him at this point, you stood up from your desk, taking a moment to stretch your limbs which had been held in the same position for hours.

In the process you hadn’t realized Viktor’s eyes had remained on you, taking in as much of your body as he could see whether he realized it or not. You then caught him staring and looked down at yourself, confused as to what he was looking at. Did you have some paper stuck to you?

“What?” You asked him, looking down at yourself before looking back up at him trying to figure out what exactly he could’ve been looking at. He seemed surprised, not just by your question, but also by the fact that he had been staring in the first place. It was a habit he had, but when directed at you it felt different for him… he didn’t know why but he wasn’t going to bother exploring that area of the unknown just yet.

“Nothing, follow me.” He responded quickly before turning back towards the door and hurriedly walking out.

You followed him out of the lab, closing the door behind you, and making your way into the very intricately decorated hallways of the academy. It was a place you prided yourself on being able to work at, they didn’t just accept anyone through their doors so the fact you made it this far, even just to be an apprentice, was something you would never let yourself forget.

Even so, sometimes just being an apprentice did sometimes diminish your excitement about working in such an extravagantly intelligent place. You wanted to do things, you wanted to make a difference, you wanted to help people, and oftentimes being stuck in the role of an apprentice didn’t guarantee much of anything.

That’s why you were so eager to help out Viktor. He saw potential in you and worked upon it, he gave you things to do and actually valued your opinion when working on projects. He made you feel seen more than anyone else in the academy had at this point.

You hadn’t noticed him looking over his shoulder at you once again, watching as your eyes traced the design of each pillar that littered the hallway before smiling a little to himself.

“This way.” He spoke up, grabbing your attention quickly as he turned down a hallway and towards the main doors leading out of the academy.

“Where are we going?” You asked, now walking alongside him.

“You will see.”

“Do you ever give any straight answers?”

“You’ve been around me this long and still don’t know the answer to that?” He teased back with a smile on his face, it caused you to laugh slightly as you rolled your eyes.

“So that’s a strong no.” You laughed to which he shrugged.

Before long he brought you to a place that was rather secluded, in fact, you hadn’t even known it existed. It was, for lack of a better term, a hole in the wall outlooking the water that sat between Piltover and Zaun. It was quite nice as the sun glittered across the water giving it a twinkle that you could really only see from certain angles. It was only then did you realize how long you had fallen asleep in the lab, it was already midday.

Viktor took a seat on the ledge, looking to you to join him, which you did. You were a bit hesitant at first as the drop was quite a far one, but eventually you made your way and sat down properly. There was still enough distance between you and Viktor that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you both looked out at the view.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, looking over to him as he leaned against the wall next to him. There was a certain look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place, almost melancholic, maybe even nostalgic as he looked out at the water.

He shrugged a bit before dragging his eyes away from the water to look at you.

“I’ve always known about it. I come to relax or think, which Is part of what I think you need right now.” He said with a smile as he leaned back on the ledge a bit with his arms behind him.

You nodded before looking back out at the view before you.

You both stayed quiet for a little, just enjoying each other's company as you listened to the sounds around you. You thought it would’ve been awkward to just sit in silence with him but you were actually surprisingly really comfortable with it. You couldn’t help but wonder why he even bothered bringing you out here, if anything wouldn’t it be more important to just get you back to work as quickly as possible. So you asked,

“Hey Viktor?” You began, to which the man responded with a gentle hum, letting you know he was listening even if he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“So you can have a break.”

You sighed and shook your head knowing he was so straightforward that you had to spell things out for him sometimes.

“Yeah, I know that part but… why? Why let me have a break when this work is so important to you?”

His eyes left the scene before him before looking back towards you. A new emotion behind them that you couldn’t quite place, but it looked much more lively than the melancholic look he had before.

“Jeopardizing people you care about is not worth the sake of a project.”

His words seemed to almost float in the air for a moment before sinking in as you looked at him. He was serious about what he had said but it seemed like he hadn’t intended to say something so heavy hitting, but Viktor wasn’t exactly a sugar coater. He didn’t like to dance around the edge of things, if he had something on his mind he would say it.

But he saw your reaction and realized that maybe this once he should dial back his full passion towards everything.

“Eh, and besides, what good would it do me if my assistant was falling asleep on my all the time.” He joked a bit as he nudged you with his elbow. You smiled at him a bit, appreciating his words before looking down once again.

“This is nice.” You said quietly with a smile, now looking down at your hands which were resting on your lap.

“Perhaps this means you will take a break more often?” He asks, leaning a bit forward as he looks towards you.

“Perhaps it does.” You said, your smile remaining.

[lovely--lover]

"I am here, My Sweet"

I haven't written fanfiction in almost 3 years! So I hope this is good 😊 Enjoy!

Summary: Aegon needs an heir but his cock was left worthless after Rooks Rest. Aemond will have to do...only for duty. Aegon allows it and stays to support his sweet wife.

warnings: smut, talk of scars, the word cripple, sad Aegon

Aegon rested his head back attempting to keep the lids of his eyes open. The weight of them heavy, as was his gaze, which peered down at his sweet wife. The warm cherub cheek rested on his thigh as she lay in a pleasured haze. Soft moans falling from plush petal lips, a testament to her pleasure as they parted more and more, with each thrust.

That pretty wide open mouth, glistening with spit, was so welcoming and so close to his cock. That was left lying limp against his scarred flesh despite all the desire and yearning. There was nothing more Aegon wanted than to take his wife. Feel the warm, wet, love of her cunt squeezing around him. There would be no position, no place, he would not have her. But Aegon could only imagine that it was him fucking into her providing her pleasure.

Aegon kept his violet eyes on hers wanting to take in every moment of her rapture. If they were to drift up any further they would land on Aemond. Who was currently on his knees fucking into her from behind. One hand grasping a plush hip until the flesh seeped between fingers, the other hand pressing down on her spine, keeping her low and arched. The plump of her ass on display to Aemond as he slid deeper and deeper. The sound of flesh echoing off the walls, in Aegons skull, every time Aemond thrust forward. 

Aegon's eyes betrayed him as they stole a glance at Aemond they widened before finding their way back to her. Insecurity clawed its way through his chest, his heart, it ached deeper than any wound. There was not much to Aegon before the war. Before he was made King, an accomplishment that was placed upon him, not earned.  If he was the second son he would have been cast aside, worthless. Maybe even hidden away by his mother and grandsire never to be seen again, their disgrace.

But he was not. Most days he wishes he was hidden away never to be seen again. By the prying, pitying eyes that watched him struggle and heave himself throughout the halls. All eyes lingering on the scars that danced across half his body. Their crippled King. 

Aemond was scarred but not in the same way. The scars covered his body in the same way stars scattered the sky, shining, telling a story.  A fighter who commands men in battles, wins wars, and always comes out stronger. A true warrior. 

Aegon wanted him gone.

It was on the tip of his tongue “Fuck off Aemond! By order of your King” he would smirk. But he did not. Would not. They needed an heir that he could not provide.

The foul whispers of the keep had made their way to her precious ears. Aegon had wanted their tongues when he was met with his tear-stained wife, her dress, cheeks, and lashes all held the evidence of her sadness. Her voice had spoken to him so tenderly “ Aegon…it is my duty everyone says so...I know so” a weak smile presented on your lips “I want to give you a child, please, and not just for duty.” How could Aegon say no?

The day of their wedding had the same day as his coronation. Aegon could not become King without a Queen. So he was wed to her before they placed the crown atop his head. The following days meant to be spent together as newlyweds was stripped away. The war was pending and the following weeks were hectic, preparing for war, protecting the realm, fighting for a crown Aegon did not want. There was no oppurtunity  to put a sweet babe in his wife. And before given the chance Aegon had flown to battle as a drunkard. Gotten burned by Dragon-fire, destroying his cock, stealing away his ultimate pleasure. Left now as a voyeur to his own wife and brother.

When he returned near death it was her who stayed by his side day and night. Proving her unconditional love and devotion to him. Sweet wife, how he grew to adore you. The milk of the poppy daze could not keep him from finding her. Always a bright silhouette on the settee next to the bed, embroidering another intricate work for him to adorn. A gentle and warm smile always welcomed her face as their eyes met. “My love! You are awake..I am so happy.” 

“Aegon?” his thoughts were broken by the call of a breathless and sweet voice. He blinked away the memory and imminent tears. As his sight came back into focus, he was met with furrowed brows and doe eyes peering at him, examining him,  “Are you here my love?” The squeeze of your fingers on his good thigh caused a jolt of heat to go to his cock which remained soft.

His hand found the soft warmth of her cheek,  “I am here my sweet.” Both faces adorned with sweet smiles as she nuzzled into his palm. Eyes never leaving his as she allowed her lips to meet the skin. A tender moment between lovers. 

“As am I”  Aemond spoke for the first time that night. Ruining the precious moment while throwing a smirk towards Aegon “I hope you did not forget My Queen” Fingers delved deeper into your hip bordering on painful “The duty we must accomplish for Our King. ” 

The furrow of her brows asked a silent permission from Aegon, to respond. A slight nod was all she needed. He hoped the side of his thumb was comforting as her shaking voice spoke out “I have not forgotten my duty, good brother, I promise.”

Long white strands of hair fell over her face as Aemond caged in her body with his. The weight was crushing, breath hot against her ear “Good my Queen, I am close and I will breed you well…I promise” His thrust grew rabid the sound of flesh against flesh echoing off the walls. Aemond leered up at Aegon as he held her hips against his and let out a grunt. The duty was done.

A warmth filled her deep within, settling in her belly as tears started to form, it was over. There is nothing she wants more than for Aegon to be the one placing his seed in her womb. Wanting to fulfill her duty as his wife and Queen she took a breath and wiped away the stray tears. Pressing her face further into his thigh wanting to feel him against her and hide the shame.

“You are dismissed, brother.” A heavy breath left Aegon as he forced out the words “Thank you for your service to the Crown.”

Aemond’s lone eye remained focused on your nude body licking the smirk of his lips. “Of course, My King, It was a pleasure.” 

Aegon refused to look anywhere besides Aemond until he left the room. There was a tension hanging over the room and it was only broken when the door slammed shut. The sign that they were officially alone and Aemond was gone. 

“Wife…come to me.” Aegon strained to open his arms wide making room for her. A groan of pain escaped as she climbed into his arms putting pressure on his healing wounds. He would manage if it allowed her to be close. “I hope it takes…I do not wish to bed your brother again”

“You did not enjoy bedding Aemond the Fierce?....The sounds you made say otherwise dear wife.” He forced himself to smirk, a way of communicating, I am not upset although he was a little hurt. Her brows furrowed and nose scrunced the look eliciting a genuine laugh from him as he pulled her closer. 

 “I wish it was you ” spoken so gently and quietly “I only want you”

 “As do I but unfortunately my cock no longer works,” there was an empty humor to the words, he did not want to upset her. 

“It would still be better than Aemonds, I’d bet on it” 

Aegon could barely get out a laugh before it was replaced with a gasp. The soft feel of her fingers were on his cock stroking along the rough flesh. The pleasure was dull blocked by the thick layer of scar tissue. A ghost of a touch was all he felt. What he would give to feel it fully. “How does it feel?”

There was a brief pause as Aegon thought over all the different things he could say “Like nothing..”

The soft-touch was gone in an instant. Her hand tucked against her bare chest as if just burned. “I’m sorry I -”

“Do not be” Aegon’s hands came to rest on either side of her face using the pad of his thumb to stroke gently against her warm cheeks. There was a moment of silence as they gazed into each other's eyes waiting for the other to make a move. 

“My sweet wife, you love me, I know this. That is something…something I have never had but have always wanted. I love you” his hands dropped from her cheeks to rest on her belly “and I will love our child. As long as you continue to love me, do not feel sorry, this is all I need.” Aegons lips were soft and salty as his tears fell between their shared lips.

Please let me know your thoughts and comments ❤️ It is much appreciated!!

[grandline-fics]

Hii! I was always thinking of you making one about Ace being hit by user that’s Devil fruit can turn people into kids and the reader is Ace’s partner and is trying to stop him from running around and almost burning the ship with his Devil fruit- 😭 and if you can add more context, that would be great :33 (I have nothing in mind at all,) that’s it rlly, ty!

DESCRIPTION: He gets turned into a younger version of himself

WARNINGS:  none, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,113

A/N: Thank you for this cute request. I hope this is to your liking and what you were looking for. This is the first request/fic of 2025. Happy New Year everyone

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

The plan had been a simple one, you and your group would go to the island’s northern village and Ace would take the southern village. You both had your own set list of supplies and tasks to complete and it was meant to be an easy trek that would take half a day to complete. It was so easy you and the rest of the crew involved could accomplish it in your sleep and that kind of overconfidence was expected for you all. At the time you’d all considered that there was absolutely nothing that could go wrong and the routine trip would run smoothly. Quickly pressing a kiss to Ace’s lips you parted ways and headed to the village while Ace headed to the other.

As expected Ace and his group got to their village in no time at all, with it being closer to the Moby Dick and set about getting what was needed. On their way out of the village with loaded crates and sacks their attention was caught by one of the villagers announcing they’d found something that had to have been a Devil Fruit. Interested and already ahead of schedule, Ace and the others drew closer for a better look. Ace knew there were books about many of the Devil Fruits in the world and since he was already in possession of one, he had no need to know the others. 

He watched as the villager took a huge bite of the fruit and chuckled when they recoiled at the awful taste flooding his mouth. For Ace and the other Devil Fruit users in the group, they all felt a mix of sympathy and amusement. Unfortunately it was a rite of passage for everyone to experience the awful yet fully indescribable taste. The villager recoiled and staggered clumsily and out of instinct Ace being closest, put his hand out to steady the man. The second he did a strange feeling overcame him and he swayed, his vision clouding as his legs gave out. Vaguely he heard Izou calling his name as he fell unconscious.

As you and your group approached the Moby Dick you flinched at the sound of yelling getting that didn’t sound like the usual rowdy noise from your crew. This sounded almost panicked which made you, Marco and the others pick up the pace. As you climbed on board you were frozen at the sight of the crew spread out on the deck, crouched slightly and arms outstretched, ready to leap at their target that was darting around, ducking and dodging out of their reach. “Where did he get a pipe from?!”

“That's not the worry here! He’s little but he’s still him!” You blinked out of your shock to properly look at the young boy darting out Vista’s reach and swinging the aforementioned pipe in a bid to keep his pursuer back. It was Ace, a very young, very angry looking Ace. Your eyes widened, not sure how this even happened but you knew for certain that everyone was desperate to keep the boy version of your boyfriend on the ship, most likely for his own safety.

“You don’t mean-” Izou’s question was cut off when Ace took a swing with the pipe with a yell, an arc of bright flame streaking through the air with his attack. You all froze when the sight of the fire startled Ace more that the rest of you and he dropped his weapon. Quickly Marco leapt forward, taking advantage of Ace’s hesitation. His half-phoenix form activated and his talons latched onto Ace’s arms, lifting him off the ground, chucking as Ace began to thrash and try to kick out of the first division commander’s hold.

“Let. me. go! Stupid. pirates!” Ace ground out angrily. At least that fully confirmed for you all that it wasn't just his physical body that was affected, he didn’t know he was part of this crew of ‘stupid pirates.’ You didn't like seeing Ace distressed or so angry and finally made yourself move.

“Ace?” You asked softly, smiling at him in reassurance when Marco turned in the air to let the struggling version of his friend face you. Ace had been glaring up at Marco but turned his anger your way only to freeze when he saw your face. You smiled wider to see him no longer fighting against someone he’d trust with his very life and fix his attention solely on you. “You’re safe with us. We’re not going to hurt you okay?”

Had it come from anyone else, Ace probably wouldn’t have believed them especially with the fact one of these strangers currently had him hoisted in the air. For some reason he felt safe with you. Ace let out a huff and glared up at Marco who was suppressing the desperate urge to laugh at Ace’s immediate change in demeanour at your appearance.

“If I get Marco to let you go will you come with me to the kitchen?” You asked gently, knowing the surefire way to deal with Ace was food. “I’ll make you anything you want.” Your offer was a tempting one but you could see Ace held a little bit of defiance so you offered him one more addition. “You can bring the pipe?”

Twenty minutes later Ace was sitting on the counter of the kitchen, pipe in hand and watching you intently as you cooked for him, his stomach growling at the amazing smell. Already he was opening up and talking to you, even offering you a smile as he dropped his guard slightly. When the door opened and Thatch poked his head inside to ask if you needed help, Ace’s glare returned in full force and hardened at the man as he readied his pipe to attack. “Back!”

Thatch immediately held up his hands and laughed while backing out of the kitchen despite it being his domain. The cook retreated back to the deck to join the others, stating to everyone it was off limits.

For now though they just had to wait out for the effects of the ability to revert Ace back to normal and while they did, they were going to remember each and every little thing little Ace did around you to tease him about later. When you and your mini bodyguard reappeared with full stomachs and bright smiles, the crew began to laugh softly. Just like it had been when you both met for the first time, Ace’s infatuation with you was immediate and instinct to stay close and keep you to himself was strong and fierce and regardless of his age that was never going to change.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost

[repulsiveliquidation]

Scars || Alexia Putellas

Summary : you finally let Alexia be intimate with you. A little detail slips your mind but she soon uncovers the truth behind your hesitation to let her love you how she wants to.

warnings : smut in the beginning but nothing too explicit. angst. mentions of self-harm and bullying.

“Mm, amor you smell so good…” Alexia moans, kissing your neck. You smile and arch your back into her, biting your lip. She leaves wet sloppy kisses along your collarbones, nipping at them slightly. You giggle and tell her to stop tickling you with her blonde brunette hair, your hands tucking the loose strands behind her ears.

You hear her take a sharp inhale of your scent and feel your core throb at the deep sigh she lets out. Your hands cradle her head as she looks up at you, eyes darting down to your lips as she licks her own.

“Used that body wash you like,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss her. She kisses back immediately and you feel her melt, large hands pulling your waist closer to her.

“So beautiful,” Alexia whispers only for you to hear, the random assortment of rings on her hands leave cold shocks on your exposed skin.

 Her hands roam your build with determination as her lips nip and nibble on your chest. She pulls the tank top off you and takes a breast into your mouth, suckling gently. You shudder and moan her name unashamedly, chasing the feeling she left on your chest as she moved to the other breast. She kneaded the other and you could feel the groan in the back of her throat, strong thighs keeping yours wide open how she wanted.

The cold air in the room kept your nipple taut and hard, her fingers rolling them around as she rushed forward to kiss you.

“May I?” she asked politely, pupils dilated and full of lust.

“Please,” you beg and you see the look in her eyes darken.

But all this fun was about to be cut short.

You forgot one tiny thing.

But you couldn’t warn her before she pulled your sweats off.

“Cariño, what is all this?”

You take a split second to understand what she meant and when you finally realize it, she had seen most of it.

“No!” you yell, pulling the sweats back over your thighs and bounding for the bathroom almost tripping over yourself.

Your teenage years were not easy. Abandoned by your father and neglected by your mother, you ran away from home at age 7 hoping for a better chance at life. Two months on the streets, you were left cold and hungry, when a kind slightly elderly couple took you in. Sharon and Thomas gave you a roof over your head, hot food, and clothes; most importantly, a home.

They were both school teachers; Thomas taught PE and Sharon taught English. They were kind and gave you free reign in life.

Thomas taught you how to play football and while you were good, English was your passion. Writing came so naturally to you, Sharon was the one who suggested you write your first book. So you did. Poems came so easily to you, the words filling pages so fast, Thomas could barely keep up with buying you new ones.

Being an accomplished writer at 15 was unheard of, which gained you some local fame.

But with fame, came a price you wished you didn’t have to pay.

A local rival publishing team that had rejected your book was vengeful of the success it gained and did a little digging. They found your parents and your past, learning about your brief stint at homelessness and how you ran away from home at 7.

The headlines the next day were the topic of bullying from a group of mean kids at school. You didn’t remember their names now, years later but their words rang fresh in your mind if you allowed yourself to spiral.

Each word was one stroke of the blade over your perfect skin.

Each bloom of blood was the pain fading away.

Or so you thought.

Somehow the next day, their fresh set of insults doubled the pain. It made your chest tight, your head pound, your grades drop and your passion for writing evaporate.

“Nothing new in your notebook, peanut?” Sharon asked so sweetly, finding you sipping on tea in the sunroom. She brushed your hair back sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Nothing,” you lied. There were new things. They weren’t particularly parent-friendly.

“Tom and I are heading to a school meeting, dinner’s in the oven for you, okay?” she walks away, a knowing expression on her face. She can sense the pain like she was your own mother but kept her mouth shut.

“I love you,” she added and you looked at her, close to tears. If she could tell, she made no move to let you know she did but smiled when you said it back to her with a forced one. It broke her heart but she did not know that yours broke more.

You sat in your bathroom, hands clammy and shaking. The blade glimmered back at you like it was taunting you.

“It’ll take the pain away,” you convinced yourself, pressing the cold object over your mangled skin on your thigh.

The blood washed away but more pricked to the surface with each cut. Soon the water turned a dark red, and your head dully thudded against the glass wall, the pain fading into numbing nothingness.

The beeping of the monitors around you was what roused you. There were too many lights and lots of voices at once, but your mother’s sobs were instantly recognizable.

“Where did we go wrong, Tom?” she asked your father, “how did we not know?”

“I don’t know, Shar,” he said, sounding sad, “I don’t know.”

His next words broke you more than any bully's words could.

“I’m sorry we failed you, kiddo. Dad’s sorry.”

“You didn’t fail me, Dad. You saved me,” you mumbled, tears filling your eyes as they pulled away from one another and rushed to your bedside. Mom hugged you tight and thanked her stars you were okay while your father held your hand and kissed it over and over.

“There’s my little girl,” he said, looking teary himself.

“You saved me, both of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” you apologized but they were not hearing none of it.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to us, peanut. The best.”

You don’t know when you started to build the dam in your heart but it broke the moment your parents held you in their arms. The safety of their arms was something you didn’t know you craved. But when they gave it to you, all your pain went away.

You never felt that safety from anyone else. Until you met Alexia.

You were merely a fan in the stands, dragged to a Barcelona game by your friends at work who happened to have an extra ticket to a Liga F game. She caught your eye and you hers, shy smiles and a hastily bought jersey from the stands outside got you her signature and her number written below it.

It took two coffees and a single baked good to know you were marrying this woman. She was funny, kind, loyal, inspirational, and simply devoted to you.

But most importantly, her arms were a safe haven. For you and your thoughts that still lingered to this day.  

You explained every one of the scars on your legs after she had begged for you to let her into the bathroom. One thing about your relationship with Alexia was that you were sure she was too good to be true.

Part of you wanted her so badly, but the other part convinced you that she would leave the moment she saw the scars. the mangled skin from years of reopening wounds. The bumps and ridges that cheap blades from the corner store got you on a teenager’s allowance.

And when she didn’t leave, you hated that you felt her pity. This world-class football player felt bad for the girl she met in the stands at one of her games. But she didn’t. She sat with you and listened, eyes and mind solely focused on you.

“Show me your scars,” she asked.

“But why?” you answered, albeit through sobs.

“I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn’t there.”

It wasn’t long before you were back in her arms again, safe and sound, ready to be fiercely loved by her for the rest of your life.  

[wholoveseggs]

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed,  biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse. 

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

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[cryinginmyroomsposts]

decipher you | Woozi one-shot

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x fem. Reader

tags: angst, fluff, established relationship, yearning, happy ending, good surprises, a pov switch at the end (just for funsies)

a/n: It's been eons since i wrote on here and a sudden woozi brain rot caused me to write this. not proofread and please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions or fics

masterlist

It’s way past sunset and well into the next day. Hey you can’t help but keep staring at the clock, your phone and the door. The same order. Every 15 seconds.

Clock. Phone. Door. A heavy sigh… Silence… Clock. Phone. Door. A sigh… Silence…

You should go to sleep, you are aware. But the flicker of hope in you has not died yet. He’ll be home before sunrise… today.

You had the same thought for the fifth night in a row. And the last four days you’d been proven wrong.

Yet here you sit, on the edge of your soft brown couch- handpicked by your Jihoon, looking and hoping for any signs of him showing up for a full night’s sleep.

Jihoon always tiptoed in at the early hours of the day- dragging his messy hair and droopy eyes slowly to lay beside you on the bed. Every morning you pretended you didn’t notice him come in. You pretend you didn’t notice his exhausted sigh as his head hits the bed. You pretend you didn’t notice the light peck he gives you even as sleep threatens to take him away. You pretend not to smile as he says the same thing each morning- “Love you baby. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

And each day you pretend you have faith in his sleepy promise. But why wouldn’t you?

This is Jihoon. Your Jihoon.

The same person who stood through your strenuous years of doctorate degree madness. The Jihoon who held your hand through countless vaccinations, never once complaining that you’re too old to cry about needles. The same Jihoon who always cooks every weekend for the two of you, no matter the amount of pressure he is in.

This is the Jihoon who flew 14 hours across the globe to be with you during your thesis presentation.

This is the Jihoon who took a stand against his company and the industry to proudly announce you as his partner and dedicate multiple love songs to you.

This is the Jihoon who learnt your language to talk to you and your parents in your mother tongue.

The is the Jihoon who married you in your home country even if it meant having to fly out his family and friends across the globe.

This is Jihoon. Your whole universe for the last decade. You trust him with everything in this world and know him like the back of your hand.

But even after all these years, you can’t decipher him.

The way he goes silent suddenlymakes it almost impossible to understand if it’s a good, bad, or nothing silent.

Of course, over the years he has learned to let you in on his thoughts. But once in a while, he relapses into this shell of his. This regression happens in higher intensities during the song production time. He is more present during dance practices and comebacks. But when Jihoon is in Producer Woozi mode, he forgets everyone and everything for hours (and sometimes days) on end.

You had gotten used to it for the most part. Usually, this wouldn’t have annoyed or irked you the way it is right now.

But this time, it’s different.

Your world turned around in the last three days and the one person who needs to hear it isn’t there. The one person your heart is leaping out to isn’t there to hold it. This one time you wished life’s timing wasn’t cruel.

There are a lot of things in life you are capable of accomplishing on your own.

But you know how important his work is to Jihoon. After 13 years in this field, the incredulous passion he still carries is commendable. And after everything he and the team has been through, they’re finally enjoying their craft and you’d be the last person to disturb that equilibrium.

Jihoon’s craft is special. His dedication and work ethic are special. You knew he didn’t like to be interrupted or questioned during his process. And god knows you didn’t want to do that.

But you need Jihoon, now more than ever.

So you look up at the clock once again. 1:05 AM Sigh… You turn on your phone once again. No New Notifications. Sigh… You run your hand through your hair. Holding your breath in, you look at the door. Silence… Sig-

The clicking sounds on the door awaken your soul. One-click. One push. The door swings open and there he is- Jihoon. Your Jihoon. Same fluffy, messy hair. The old worn down black hoodie. Droopy eyes now wide open in surprise.

“Baby. Why are you awake? It’s so late.” He says as he kneels next to you after removing his shoes.

“Jihoon-ah…” your voice comes out in a croak. You haven’t uttered a since the last 5 hours you were at home.

“Hmm?” He looks at you with stars in his eyes. The eye bags prominent as the light hits his face. He’s the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Before you could speak he begins, as his one palm draws circles on your thighs and the other holding your hip. “I’m really really sorry baby… I know I haven’t been present in a while. The company has been pressing us for variety and I’ve been breaking my head about it.”

A pause as he lays his head on your lap and looks at you.

“But today I got it baby. I did it.” His smile lights up his whole face. Pure happiness gleaming from his eyes. This version of Jihoon was one of your favourite. The one gleaming with pride, grinning with joy and enjoying every bit of satisfaction that comes with the kind of dedication only he can pour into his art.

So you smiled, mirroring his happiness.

“I’m so proud of you honey. Can’t wait to hear it soon!”

“You’ll be the first one to hear it.” He says grinning. Your raise your eyebrows and he giggles. The sound of heaven.

“I mean after the team you’ll be the first to hear it.”

Both of you laugh, a soft ringing laughter echoing through the walls of the home you built for yourselves.

You clear your throat slightly.

“Jihoon I need to tell you something…”

“Yes?” He says in the middle of a yawn.

He looks so exhausted in the moment that he looks 10 years younger.

You decided to wait another day.

“I… just needed to tell you… that I missed you… a lot.” Your words come out in a whisper. Barely audible but you know he heard it by the way he shifts on your lap like a little cat.

“I know baby… I’m sorry.”

You sigh. He was sorry and you knew it.

“You could’ve texted me”

He grumbles an apology into your thighs.

“Jihoon you told me you’d communicate better… we’ve been through this cycle before. You’re always going to be creating music, but the least you can do is let me know. You promised me jagi…”

More grumbles as he manoeuvres himself to settle against your stomach.

Your heart skips a beat.

“I understand work is hard. And I’m an adult so I understand even if it’s difficult. But… but your child won’t be able to…”

By the end of your sentence, you could barely hear yourself. But the way Jihoon freezes against you is proof enough that he heard you.

A moment passes and there is no reaction from him. Another moment.

And what feels like a million tiny moments later, Jihoon’s messy head pops up away from your stomach to your face.

His eyes are glistening and big like boba balls. You hold your breath trying to n to read his face. The creases in his forehead and the straight closed mouth slowly give way to the tiniest smile.

That’s all the sign you need as you break into a huge smile.

He looks at your smile, his own mirroring it, and then down at your stomach then up again at your face. He does it a few more times as you break into soft laughs.

He sits upright on his knees, his face in front of you, big wid eyes full of surprise and hope, as his hands cup your cheeks.

“Y/n… are you being serious right now?”

You nod, words too little for the happiness pouring out of in the form of tears.

Jihoon looks stunned but pulls into a close and tight hug.

Home…

When he faces you again, tears are rolling down his cheeks. “When did you find out?” “Umm… four days ago” “Baby why didn’t you tell me soo-“

The color drains from his face as he moved toward your stomach again. He hugs you around your stomach so lightly as if he’s holding a feather.

“I really am sorry jagi. I know I say it a lot but I should do better. I should’ve done better. For you. For us. And…” He looks at you with an apologetic smile, “and for our child.”

You run your fingers through his silky tousled hair. “Jihoon-ah, it’s okay. What’s done is done…”

He smiles at you.

“You have no idea how restless I’ve been waiting to tell you. To see that look on your face.” His smile grows wider and he places a peck on your very normal stomach whcih makes you giggle.

“You do know there is no actual baby in there yet right?” He pouts as he looks at you, causing more giggles on your end.

“I hope our kid doesn’t get your oversmart brain and is normal like me” he says defiantly.

You let out a snort. “Please Mr worldwide popular idol ‘Woozi’! You’re as far from normal as is possible my dear.”

“Well normal or not, I know our child will have the best dad.”

Jihoon’s cheeky comment sets of a back and forth of arguing about which one of you is better until early hours of the morning as laughter rings through the house.

———

Jihoon:

It was another night of sleeping after dawn for him. He was no stranger to a late night. But for the first time in years he feels too ecstatic to sleep.

His mind and body are buzzing with happiness at the thought of the love of his life carrying their child.

He thinks back to the 17 year old Jihoon who saw this cute girl across the street struggling to get her bags on her cycle basket snd decided to forgo his inhibitions for once and help her. He thinks back to 20 year old Jihoon who, for the first time in his life, gave a speech at a bar confessing his love for the same girl despite all his social anxiety. He thinks back to the 28 year old Jihoon who decided to talk to her parents and arrange a special performance for her on their wedding even though all he wanted was alone time with her.

He thought back to everytime he took a chance for this beautiful and smart girl, now lying next to him peacefully asleep, and he thanks every god and higher power in the universe for giving him the courage to do so.

Without her Jihoon wouldn’t know love and life. Now they have a little bundle of joy on its way just to commemorate this love they share.

And this time Jihoon was going to make sure he’d be there every step of the way.

[novaursa]

Between the Flames (Part 1)

- Summary: You and Gwayne see each other after years of separation, as King Viserys I organizes a hunt for his son's nameday. But time is a cruel mistress.

- Pairing: Gwayne Hightower/targ!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has silver hair, is bonded with Silverwing. Time is unspecified for events that take place, and there will be part 2. If you want to read parts before this in chronological order, visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content present, but is mentioned)

- Word count: 4 252

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The camp is alive with the sounds of celebration, laughter ringing out over the open fields as the royal tents stand tall against the evening sky. The hunt is in full swing, with nobles from across the realm gathered to honor Aegon’s name day, a grand spectacle meant to showcase the strength and unity of the kingdom under King Viserys. The smell of roasting meat and the warmth of firelight create a welcoming atmosphere, though Gwayne Hightower feels none of it. His heart pounds with anticipation, his eyes scanning the sea of faces, searching.

It has been years since he last saw you, the young princess with a fierce spirit and a dragon’s heart. Time and distance have done nothing to diminish the ache within him, a longing that has only grown stronger with each passing day. He has resisted every effort by his father, Otto Hightower, to wed him to another. Every noble lady, no matter how beautiful or accomplished, has paled in comparison to you. The memory of your laughter, your fierce gaze, your bond with Silverwing—all of it haunts him still.

And now, with the excuse of his nephew’s name day, he has come here, determined to see you again.

Gwayne moves through the crowd, his eyes flicking from one face to another. Lords and ladies bow and curtsy as he passes, offering pleasantries and congratulations. He nods politely, but his mind is elsewhere, focused solely on finding you. 

At last, he spots you near the edge of the encampment, where the noise of the festivities begins to fade into the night. You stand with your back to him, your silver hair catching the firelight, creating a halo that makes you appear almost otherworldly. Your stance is strong, regal, a true daughter of the Targaryen line. For a moment, he hesitates, taking in the sight of you, as if afraid that moving too quickly might shatter the fragile reality of this moment.

Finally, he approaches, the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel as he closes the distance between you. When you turn, your eyes meet his, and it feels as though the world falls away. The years melt in an instant, leaving only the two of you standing there, as if no time at all has passed.

“Y/N,” Gwayne breathes your name, his voice betraying the depth of his emotion.

Your expression is unreadable at first, guarded, but then it softens ever so slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Ser Gwayne,” you greet him, your voice as melodic as he remembers, though tinged with a maturity that comes from the experiences of the years apart. “It has been some time.”

“Far too long,” he agrees, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might feel the same. “You are more radiant than I remember, if that is even possible.”

Your smile grows a touch wider, though there’s a shadow in your gaze, a flicker of something that he cannot quite name. “You have not changed at all, Gwayne. Still the same with your words.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that eases some of the tension in his chest. “And you are still as sharp as ever, my lady.”

There is a pause, a silence that stretches between you, filled with the unspoken weight of the years apart. Gwayne longs to reach out, to take your hand in his, but he holds back, uncertain of how you might respond. He notices how your gaze shifts slightly, as if looking beyond him, perhaps to the memories of what might have been—or to someone else.

“Have you enjoyed the festivities?” he asks, his voice carefully casual, though his heart is anything but.

“As much as one can enjoy such events,” you reply, your tone betraying a hint of weariness. “Though I confess, I find little joy in the politics that surround them.”

He nods in understanding, feeling a surge of protectiveness. “I would spare you from such things if I could,” he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours, his meaning clear.

Your gaze softens again, and for a moment, Gwayne dares to hope that perhaps you might still hold some affection for him. But then, as if reminded of something, your expression hardens ever so slightly, and you step back, creating a distance between you once more.

“We live in a world where such burdens cannot be avoided, Ser Gwayne,” you say, your voice firm. “We must all play our part.”

Gwayne feels a pang of disappointment, though he cannot fault you for it. You are a princess of the realm, your life governed by duty and expectations far beyond your control. He knows this, has always known it, but it does not make it any easier to accept.

“Of course,” he replies, bowing his head slightly. “But know that my feelings for you have not changed, Y/N. They never will.”

For a brief moment, something flashes in your eyes—regret, perhaps, or sadness. But it is gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the mask of composure that you wear so well.

“Thank you, Gwayne,” you say quietly, your voice tinged with a gentleness that cuts him deeper than any blade could. “You will always be a dear friend to me.”

Friend. The word lingers in the air between you, heavy with finality. Gwayne forces a smile, though it feels like a physical effort to do so. “And you to me, my princess.”

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches his ears, and he turns to see none other than Prince Daemon Targaryen striding toward you. The Rogue Prince’s presence is as commanding as ever, his gaze sharp as it settles on you, then flicks briefly to Gwayne, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Y/N,” Daemon greets you, his voice laced with a familiarity that makes Gwayne’s stomach twist. “I’ve been looking for you. The fire needs more stoking.”

You smile at Daemon, a genuine warmth in your expression that Gwayne cannot help but notice. “I was just speaking with Ser Gwayne, Uncle.”

Daemon’s smirk widens, and he gives Gwayne a nod, though there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Ser Gwayne. Always a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine, my prince,” Gwayne replies, forcing his voice to remain steady.

The moment between the three of you is charged, filled with undercurrents that Gwayne cannot fully grasp but feels deeply. He knows of Daemon’s reputation, his tendency to flout the rules and take what he desires without care for the consequences. The way Daemon looks at you, the ease with which he speaks to you—it all sends a fresh wave of unease through Gwayne.

“Well,” Daemon says, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to Gwayne. “I’m sure we’ll all have plenty of time to catch up later. But for now, Y/N, shall we?”

You nod, and as you turn to follow Daemon, you glance back at Gwayne one last time. There is something in your eyes, a silent apology, perhaps, or a farewell that cuts deeper than words could. And then you are gone, walking away with Daemon, leaving Gwayne standing alone in the fading light of the evening.

He watches you go, his heart heavy with the realization that though he may love you, though he may have refused all others for you, he is not the one who holds your heart. That honor, it seems, belongs to another—a man who is as different from him as fire is from water.

And so, as the sounds of the camp continue around him, Gwayne Hightower stands in the gathering darkness, his love for you unchanged, but his hopes for the future irrevocably altered.

The night air is cool against your skin as you walk beside Daemon, the distant sounds of the camp growing fainter with each step. The flames of the torches cast flickering shadows on the ground, mirroring the turmoil within your heart. Though your feet move forward, your thoughts remain with the man you left behind, the one whose name lingers on your lips like a prayer you cannot utter.

Gwayne Hightower.

You force yourself to focus on the path ahead, to keep pace with Daemon as he leads you further away from the others. His presence is a familiar one—commanding, intense, and undeniably magnetic. But tonight, even Daemon’s fiery spirit cannot chase away the chill that has settled over your soul.

It has been years since you and Gwayne were separated, years since the king denied his suit for your hand. You accepted your fate long ago, knowing that duty would always outweigh your desires. And yet, despite your best efforts to bury those feelings deep within, they have refused to die. The sight of Gwayne, the sound of his voice—it has brought everything rushing back, a flood of emotions you had thought you could control.

Daemon is silent as you walk, but you can sense the tension radiating from him. He is a man who thrives on attention, on being the center of everyone’s world, and he is not blind to your distraction. You can feel his eyes on you, sharp and probing, as if trying to unravel the thoughts that keep you so far from him in this moment.

Finally, he stops, turning to face you with an expression that is equal parts annoyance and curiosity. “You’re quiet tonight, niece,” he remarks, his tone deceptively light, though there’s an edge to it that you cannot ignore. “I find it… unsettling.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Do you now?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “Perhaps I’m simply tired from the day’s events.”

Daemon’s gaze narrows, and he steps closer, his presence looming over you like a storm cloud. “Do not play games with me, Y/N,” he warns, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “I know when your mind is elsewhere. And I know where it lingers.”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, the truth of his words cutting deeper than you care to admit. Of course, Daemon knows. He always knows. He has a way of seeing through the masks you wear, of peeling back the layers to reveal the raw, unfiltered emotions beneath. And now, he sees the ache in your heart, the longing that you cannot seem to hide.

“What does it matter?” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It changes nothing.”

“It matters because I’m here,” Daemon replies, his tone sharp, almost accusing. “And yet you’re still thinking of him. Of that knight who cannot give you what I can.”

You flinch at his words, the truth of them stinging like a physical blow. Daemon has always been blunt, unafraid to speak the things that others would avoid. But tonight, his words feel especially cruel, a reminder of the reality you have tried so hard to ignore.

“You think I don’t know?” Daemon continues, his eyes boring into yours. “You think I don’t see the way you look at him, even after all these years? The way your heart still aches for him, even though he’s not yours to have?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you repeat, more to convince yourself than him. “I made my choice. I accepted it.”

“But you didn’t stop loving him,” Daemon says, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bury that part of you.”

The truth of his words is like a knife twisting in your chest, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “No,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t.”

There is a long silence between you, filled only by the distant crackling of the campfires and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Daemon watches you closely, his expression unreadable, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“I could kill him,” Daemon finally says, his voice as cold and cutting as Valyrian steel. “End his life and free you from this torment.”

The words send a shock through you, your eyes snapping up to meet his in alarm. There is no hint of jest in his tone, no trace of a smile on his lips. Daemon is deadly serious, and the realization sends a chill down your spine.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, though the uncertainty in your voice betrays your doubt.

Daemon’s lips curl into a dark smile, one that sends a shiver through you. “I would, if it meant ridding you of this pathetic attachment,” he says, his voice laced with a mix of cruelty and possessiveness. “I’d do anything to see you truly free.”

“Daemon, please,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Don’t speak of such things.”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. “Then stop torturing yourself over a man you can never have,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “He’s not worthy of your tears, Y/N. Not when you have me.”

You close your eyes, the warmth of his hand against your skin a stark contrast to the cold emptiness inside you. Daemon’s words are like a balm and a poison all at once, offering a twisted kind of comfort even as they deepen the wound in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel this way,” you whisper, the confession slipping out before you can stop it. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Daemon’s hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads are nearly touching. “Then let me make you forget,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me give you something real to hold onto.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to lean into him, to take solace in his strength, his unyielding certainty. Daemon has always been a force of nature, a man who bends the world to his will without hesitation or regret. And in his arms, you can almost believe that he can chase away the shadows that cling to your heart, that he can make you forget the man who still haunts your dreams.

But deep down, you know the truth. You know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how desperately you cling to the life you’ve chosen, the love you hold for Gwayne will never truly fade. It is a part of you, as much as your blood, as much as the fire that burns in your veins.

“I can’t forget him,” you say, your voice barely audible. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Daemon’s grip on you tightens for a moment, as if in frustration, but then he lets out a low, resigned sigh. “Then live with it,” he says, his tone harsh but not unkind. “Live with the pain, but don’t let it control you. Don’t let it make you weak.”

You nod slowly, tears finally spilling over and tracing down your cheeks. “I’ll try,” you whisper, though even as you say the words, you know it will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

Daemon wipes the tears from your face with a rough tenderness that only he could manage, his expression softening as he looks at you. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of sincerity. “Don’t ever forget that.”

You meet his gaze, searching his eyes for the truth in his words. Daemon is many things—volatile, unpredictable, dangerous—but he has never lied to you, never sugar-coated the realities of the world you live in. And as much as his words sting, you know that there is truth in them.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to find the strength to carry the burden of your love for Gwayne without letting it crush you. “Thank you,” you say, your voice still shaky, but there’s a resolve forming in your chest, a determination to survive the pain, even if you can never truly be free of it.

Daemon’s expression softens further, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, a rare gesture of affection from a man who so often uses force to get what he wants. “We’ll get through this,” he murmurs against your skin. “You and me. We always do.”

You nod, though you cannot find the words to respond. Instead, you simply close your eyes and allow yourself to take comfort in the warmth of his presence, the solid weight of his hand on the back of your neck. For tonight, at least, you can pretend that the ache in your heart is something you can live with, that the choice you made all those years ago was the right one.

But as you stand there, wrapped in Daemon’s embrace, you know that the love you hold for Gwayne Hightower will never truly die. It will live on, a silent ghost that lingers at the edges of your heart, haunting you even as you move forward with your life.

And perhaps that is your fate—to live with the echoes of a love that could never be, even as you forge a path forward with the man who stands by your side, fierce and unyielding as the fire in your veins.

The next morning dawns crisp and clear, the early light filtering through the trees as the royal hunting party prepares to set out. The air is thick with anticipation, the excitement of the hunt buzzing in the air as hounds bark and horses paw at the ground. For many, this is a day of sport, of proving their prowess and enjoying the camaraderie of noblemen. But for Gwayne Hightower, it is a day of distraction, a chance to focus his mind on something other than the ache that still lingers in his chest.

He tightens his grip on the reins, trying to push thoughts of you from his mind. The night before has left him raw, your words, your eyes—everything about you has seared itself into his memory. But now, he must focus on the task at hand. He must be the knight his family expects him to be, strong, composed, and unyielding.

King Viserys leads the party, his laughter booming through the woods as he rides at the front with a few lords. Otto Hightower is nearby, his expression as unreadable as ever, his calculating gaze sweeping over the group. Daemon is there as well, his presence as imposing as always, a dark shadow against the brightness of the morning.

Gwayne tries to ignore him, focusing instead on the path ahead, on the sounds of the forest and the feel of the horse beneath him. But he can feel Daemon’s eyes on him, can sense the Rogue Prince’s amusement at the way Gwayne pointedly avoids looking at him. It’s only a matter of time before Daemon makes his move, and Gwayne steels himself, determined not to let the prince get under his skin.

As the hunting party progresses deeper into the woods, the group begins to spread out, the king and his closest men moving ahead while others fall behind. Gwayne stays toward the middle, keeping a steady pace and maintaining a watchful eye. He’s aware of Daemon’s proximity, the prince’s presence a constant reminder of the tension that simmers just beneath the surface.

Daemon, ever the provocateur, starts with small jabs, his voice carrying on the wind as he speaks to Otto with that familiar, mocking tone. “I wonder, Lord Hand, do you think your nephew here has the stomach for the hunt? He seems rather preoccupied, wouldn’t you say?”

Otto glances at Gwayne but says nothing, his expression impassive. Gwayne feels the words like a prick to his pride, but he refuses to rise to the bait. Instead, he offers a stiff smile, his voice carefully controlled as he replies, “I assure you, my prince, I am more than capable of handling myself.”

Daemon’s eyes glint with amusement, as if he’s found exactly what he was looking for. “Oh, I’ve no doubt of that,” he says, his tone laced with a challenge. “But a man’s heart can often cloud his judgment, especially when it’s not truly his to control.”

Gwayne tightens his grip on the reins, forcing himself to remain calm. Daemon is trying to provoke him, to draw out a reaction, just as he does with Otto. But Gwayne has spent years honing his control, years of learning to hide his true feelings behind a mask of composure. He won’t give Daemon the satisfaction of seeing him crack.

The party begins to separate as they reach a denser part of the forest, the sounds of the hunt growing more distant as the group spreads out in search of game. Gwayne finds himself alone with Daemon, the others having moved ahead or fallen behind. The forest is quiet around them, the only sound the steady beat of the horses’ hooves against the soft earth.

It is in this solitude that Daemon strikes.

“You know, Gwayne,” Daemon says, his voice suddenly softer, more insidious, “you’re wasting your time pining after her. You think she’s yours because she once gave you her heart? But you’re a fool if you believe that she still holds you in her thoughts.”

Gwayne’s jaw clenches, but he remains silent, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He knows where this is going, and he’s determined not to let Daemon’s words affect him.

But Daemon is relentless, leaning closer, his voice a poisonous whisper. “She’s with me now. She chose me. And every time you see her, every time you think of her, remember that it’s me she turns to when the night grows cold. It’s my name she whispers in the dark, not yours.”

The words strike deep, hitting the very core of the pain that Gwayne has tried so hard to suppress. He can feel his control slipping, the mask cracking as anger and hurt surge within him. But still, he tries to hold it together, his voice low and strained as he replies, “She may be with you, but she’ll never truly be yours. You think you’ve won her, but you don’t understand her. She’s not someone you can control, Daemon. She gave herself to me—heart, body, and soul—and no matter what you do, you’ll never have that.”

Daemon’s expression darkens, the easy smile vanishing as something more dangerous flickers in his eyes. “Is that so?” he says quietly, his voice deadly calm. “Then perhaps I should remind you of your place, Hightower.”

Before Gwayne can react, Daemon moves with lightning speed, his hand shooting out to shove Gwayne back against a tree. The force of the impact knocks the breath from Gwayne’s lungs, his back slamming into the rough bark as Daemon looms over him, his grip like iron on Gwayne’s chest.

“You think you know her?” Daemon hisses, his face inches from Gwayne’s. “You think she’ll ever love you again after what you’ve become? After what you’ve let happen?”

Gwayne struggles to breathe, his hands instinctively reaching up to push Daemon away, but the prince’s strength is formidable, his fury palpable. “You don’t know anything,” Gwayne spits back, his voice raw with anger. “You may have her now, but you’ll never understand the depth of what we had. She may lie beside you, but her heart will always remember what we shared.”

Daemon’s eyes flash with something dark, something close to true rage, and for a moment, Gwayne wonders if the prince will strike him, if he’ll go further than just a shove. But then, just as suddenly as it began, Daemon steps back, releasing Gwayne and letting him slide down the tree to catch his breath.

Gwayne’s chest heaves as he tries to regain his composure, his hands curling into fists as he watches Daemon. The prince’s expression is unreadable now, his eyes narrowed as he regards Gwayne with a mixture of contempt and something else—something more dangerous, something more personal.

“Careful, Hightower,” Daemon says softly, his voice like a blade cutting through the air. “You may think yourself noble, but in this world, it’s power that wins. And I have all the power I need to keep what’s mine.”

Gwayne glares at him, his breath still coming in harsh gasps, but he doesn’t reply. There’s nothing more to say, nothing that can ease the pain in his chest or the fury that burns in his veins. Daemon has made his point, and Gwayne knows that he must tread carefully from here on out.

As Daemon turns to leave, mounting his horse with a smooth, practiced motion, Gwayne remains where he is, leaning against the tree as he struggles to gather himself. The encounter has left him shaken, the truth of Daemon’s words hanging heavy in the air.

But despite the prince’s threats, despite the pain that tears at him, Gwayne refuses to let go of the one thing that has kept him going all these years—the memory of you, the love that still burns in his heart, even if it can never be fully realized.

And as he watches Daemon ride off into the forest, Gwayne swears to himself that no matter what happens, no matter how much it costs him, he will never let Daemon take that from him.

[sugaryplum]

our sweater

pairing: theodore nott x reader (didn't use any pronouns or looks description) summary: it's the third of december and sweaters look better on the floor. warnings: sexy times briefly mentioned, language mistakes. the obviously referenced song is out in the universe in this, so you could stretch it to be a modern!au? this is mostly just dialogue, i should just start writing movie scripts or something. writing dialogues is my favourite thing in the world. + you guys seemed to like it last time hehe <3 notes: it is not the third of december. but how dare you bring it up. oh and i’m back, sorry i disappeared for a month? i was busy doing literally nothing.

“so when are you gonna give me that sweater?” you’re laying upside down on theo’s bed, legs up against the wall. he doesn’t even look up from the desk, just muttering a quiet “what?” your way.

“it’s the third of december.” to your satisfaction, he turns his chair to face you. or at least your body, bent in the weird pose out of boredom. you’re not sure if his confused expression is because of that, or because of the the sweater question out of nowhere. either way, you smile and start singing, slightly off key, with a closed fist close to your mouth to imitate a microphone. “i still remember the third of december! me and your sweater, you said it looked better…”

“it does look better on you.” you’re interrupted.

you tilt your head slightly. “obviously.”

after a second or two, he smirks, you can almost see his teeth. “i wonder how it’d look on my floor.” the words are quiet, muffled with a chuckle. you raise your eyebrows in disbelief and turn your head to him, silent, amused.

“i do have a lot of floor space…” he starts again.

your eye roll is an enough of an answer.

“i think your sweater would look great on it.”

“oh, so it’s my sweater now?” you grin, looking almost proud of yourself for catching the word. it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“when it ends up on my floor it will be mine again.”

“so end up on your floor shall not.”

“it will, eventually.” his legs move from the floor and cross, stretched out on the edge of the bed. you look at the ceiling for a second, and then at him again. “so the question is how?”

“in many ways it could happen…”

“do enlighten me.”

he sighs and pauses. “me removing the sweater for example.”

“removing it from me?”

“yes.”

“it’s getting interesting.” you shift in your place, completely changing the position. your legs are stretched out in front of you, your ankles laying on theo’s calves. “what then?”

“i would put it on my floor.” he says matter–of–factly. when you chuckle, he adds. “and you would get cold.” you nod. his eyes are locked in yours and after a pause, his squint slightly. “i like it when you’re cold. makes you rely on me.”

you chuckle, raising your eyebrows again. “it’s good this year’s winter is quite warm.”

“then it's lucky i turned down the heating. hope you can manage.”

you laugh out loud this time. he laughs too. when laughs turn to smiles, still looking at each other, you take a moment to appreciate his face. noticing every pretty detail, every part of his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his lips. his expression, you rarely see him looking at anyone or anything else like this.

you sigh with a smile. “i like our sweater.”

“our?”

“you called it mine. and i don’t see it on your floor. but i’m willing to call it ours, as a compromise. look how good of a soul i am.”

“the sweater is mine. i meant i allowed you to wear it.”

“so why do i not have it now? it’s the third of december, need i remind you.”

he sighs and bents down, far to the side, refusing to leave the chair. he reaches his wardrobe, barely, and takes out a brown sweater. before you process, it’s thrown at you. you just know he aimed at your head, messing up your hair on purpose.

it’s slightly crumpled, but it smells like him, so you don’t mind. you would never mind.

you put it on, smiling proudly, goal accomplished. he rolls his eyes and breaks a smile.

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

Girls night VS. Boys Night

Zhu-Yuan: *In a High speed chase with a vehicle*THIS IS PUBSEC! PULL YOUR VEHICLE OVER NOW!

Nicole: *in passenger seat Old Smokey, the car Zhu-yuan's chasing* Be careful! This thing hasn't been serviced in a good while!

Piper: *Driving* I can tell. These tires haven't been rotated in at least six years, and I can't begin to imagine how old the oil is. You should take better care of this old girl~

Belle: Less talk, More Speed!

Corin: Master Proxy, are we in trouble! If I get caught Victoria Housekeeping's reputation will be Ruined! WAH!

Belle: Corin, Sweetheart, please listen to me when I say Ellen and Lucy should have a distraction coming!

~~~~~

Wise: That's ... Twelve Ice Damage, and Nineteen Slashing damage.

Anton: Brometheus Fought the good fight! He believes his friends will save the world, even in his Death!

Wise: Stellar, Arctunoct the Frost-Bringer has just knocked your dear friend unconscious, and the Rituals Almost Complete! He give you the most vile, toxic smirk as he pulls his spear from Brometheus! What do you do?

Billy: Uh, how bad does he look?

Wise: He's decently hurt, but so is the rest of your team. You're the last in the initiative order, and if he's still up when your turn ends, the world may just end.

Billy: Okay then ... Stellar draws his hand-crossbows, looks Arctunoct in his dumb face, and proclaims "You are nothing but a selfish fool! And the Void of your heart will be pierced with STARLIGHT!" and will fire his crossbows.

Billy: And that's- NAT 20!

The Table erupts in cheers

Wise: Okay, how much damage?

Billy: Uuhhm, first I'm throwing Smite on that with my last level two slot and Lightbringer's final Divine Charge, so that's ...

Billy: Twelve piercing, and ... FOURTY THREE RADIANT!

The Table erupts into louder cheers

Wise: okay! WOW! That's a LOT of damage! uh- You Lightbringer's bolt CRACKLE with the fissile power of the stars, bleaching the shadows from view, stirking him square in the heart!

Wise: He clutches the metal piercing his chest, falls to one knee ... *grinning* and Laughs ...

Billy: WHAT!

Anton: NONONO!

Seth: HOW TOUGH IS THIS GUY!

Wise: Spitting up blood Arctunoct wheezes out "And so the light is swallowed by shadow ... a brave show young Paladin, but this ... THIS IS WHERE YOUR SUN BURNS OUT!"

Billy: Hold on! I have one more attack!

Wise: Yes, yes you do.

Billy: okay so that's ... Thirteen.

Seth: Bless!

Billy: Uh, Fifteen?

Anton: Brometheus's Inspiration!

Wise: And inspiration. You just need to roll a three.

Billy: ... I GOT THREE!

The Table erupts in even LOUDER cheers

Wise: Okay, Billy?

Billy: Yeah?!?

Wise: *Writing something down* I'm writing down Exactly how much health he has left, And then I want you to roll your damage.

Billy: Okay ... it's just the one roll ...

Billy: *Rolls Damage*

Billy: Okay,so that's Four damage, plus Five for my dexterity, and one for the Enchantment.

Wise: ... the first shot brought this beast of a man to his knees, but he still breathed.

Wise: Billy ... he had only nine Health after it, How do you Wipe him out?

*Seth, Anton, and Billy Freak the fuck out*

Billy: okAy! Okay! Okay! As he's laughing from the first blow, Stellar whispers under his breathe "It's always Darkest before the Dawn." And send this last bolt right into his neck, causing him to fall into the ritual, and is eviscerated as the spell goes haywire, unfinished!

Wise: Perfect. As his body is wrenched apart by the arcane Energies misfiring, you feel in your heart as you've accomplished what you were meant to do. The World is saved, the Sun just peeks over the horizon, as if to say thank you, to the knight that has let it blaze one more day.

[joonjuul]

workplace. pjm

pairing: ceo!jimin x assistant!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: dom!jimin, mean!jimin, virgin!reader, noncon, coercion, light fingering (f receiving), light blood, crying, desk sex, jimin is a complete asshole

a/n: this is barely edited so good luck (ps thank you for all the love on my last fic! reqs are open id love to write some stuff yall wanna read :3

╋━

you feel your fingers begin to cramp as you finish sending what feels like your 100th email of the day. staring at the computer screen as your eyes blur from sensitivity.

you can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips as you allow your face to fall into your hands. it was the busiest time of the year at your company, and you were struggling to keep up with all the side jobs your boss was giving you. it felt like every two seconds there was a new request in your inbox, only piling on top of the ones you still had yet to accomplish.

park jimin was hard on you, that was evident. you understood what you were getting into when you accepted the job, but you never could’ve prepared yourself for how hard on you he really was. everyone told you to decline his position offer, but you were in no place to pass up work, especially not with the salary he was giving you. but now you were starting to regret your choices.

just as you thought you were beginning to regain your composure, you hear that familiar notification sound, pulling you away from your thoughts.

1 new message in your inbox.

what could he possibly want now? haven’t you done enough already? the day had barely started and you felt like you were already exhausted enough to go home.

you couldn’t help the rage that filled you, almost like your efforts to him meant nothing. he never praised you nor complimented you for your hard work to him and the company, only coldly filled your inbox with new things to be completed. you had had enough of this torturous cycle.

-

you took a deep breath as you stood before the office door. although it was shut, you could still feel his presence through the walls. he was so intimidating, you couldn’t believe you were actually going to stand up to him, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. you were his assistant, not his bitch.

you felt the cold metal pang against your knuckles as you melodically knocked on the door, waiting for a signal to enter.

“yes?”

his voice sent a shiver down your spine. he didn’t sound happy, but then again, he never sounded happy. always so distant, locked up in his office like a hermit. he should try doing your job for a day.

you felt your hand turn the knob unconsciously as the door swung open gently. his presence now unmistakable as he sat proudly at his desk. he wasn’t cocky, or egotistical, he was almost… emotionless, like a robot that had no feelings for anything except the success of his latest business endeavor.

you stood before him, feeling the cold air of his office brush against your bare thighs, suddenly aware of how short your skirt was. you felt out of place standing before him, you probably hadn’t spoken to him directly since the interview that had you hired months prior.

“can i help you?” his voice rang again, your heart only beating faster. did he even know your name?

“sorry to bother you, sir. i was just hoping i could speak to you about something really fast.” all confidence that you had earlier was now gone seeing him sat before you. it was almost as if you weren’t a human being to him, just a pawn to ensure his work runs smoothly.

he signaled to the chair in front of his desk, allowing you to sit, his eyes never wavering from his computer screen. what was so important that he couldn’t have a conversation with you like a normal human?

nonetheless, you felt your feet carry you to the chair before him, carefully sitting down and quickly crossing your legs as not to expose too much of your upper thighs. not that he would notice anyway.

you sat in silence for a moment, waiting for him to make eye contact with you or start the conversation, but he never did.

you clear your throat gently, trying to gain the strength to speak.

“well, sir. i feel like sometimes with this job, i know that it’s the busiest time of the year, and that i’m supposed to complete any assignment you give me, but sometimes it feels although, not that you do it on purpose but-“

“spit it out.” his words are harsh, cutting you off, but his eyes still haven’t acknowledged your presence.

you clear your throat again, feeling slightly worse knowing he probably doesn’t care much about what you have to say.

“i’m just feeling very overwhelmed with the amount of work you’ve been giving me lately, sir.” you didn’t want to come off strong or demanding, but you’re starting to lose your patience.

you watch as his typing stops, his eyes finally looking up at you but now you wish they never had. his gaze is intense, and not in a way that’s professional, but in a way that’s hurtful. he looks… mean.

“is this job too much for you, y/n?” his voice is calm, emotionless as his eyes stay fixated on yours trying to gauge your reaction.

you shake your head no quickly, realizing the position you’ve just put yourself in. you couldn’t lose this job.

“n-no sir. not at all. i just feel like-“

“because i can easily find someone who can handle the workload this position requires.” he cuts you off again, leaning back in his chair to look at you intensely.

you gulp, not really knowing how to respond.

“i-i can assure you sir im more than capable-“

“are you? because it doesn’t seem like it.” he crossed his hands on his lap as he speaks. how can he be so cold? it’s not like you were asking him to stop giving you work. you just needed at least some more time in between assignments.

“i’m sorry, sir that was never my intention.” your gaze falls down to your lap, feeling so small, like nothing you say matters.

you hear him begin to move from his chair as he stands up and approaches you. his eyes watching you carefully, scanning from your face, to your collarbones, all the way down to your legs and back. he smirks slightly, the first time you think you’ve seen him display a tinge of emotion as he moves to where he’s standing behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

“you’re a good employee, y/n”

you’re shocked at his words. “i-i am?”

you look up from your lap and turn your head to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face as he nods his head reassuringly.

“absolutely. best assistant i’ve ever had.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. he’s never praised or complimented your work before. it almost feels like a major accomplishment in your career.

“well thank you, sir.” you smile up at him, but watch as his disappears. his face now just as cold as it was when you first walked in the door.

“is that what you wanted to hear? you wanted me to tell you you’re doing a good job?” he begins to move his position so he’s standing in front of you, leaning against the desk as he watches your face change in confusion.

“i mean, it’s nice to hear every once and a while.”

“well i’m not nice, y/n.” your ears begin to ring at his words, now becoming more and more anxious in his presence. why was he being like this?

“i’m sorry, sir i don’t understand-“

“you’re here to do a job, y/n. i give you assignments, and you complete them. is that too much for your little brain to handle?” his words are like knives as you feel your eyes begin to water slightly as his voice raises in volume. he wasn’t yelling, he was still calm, however obviously frustrated with you.

you sit in silence, your gaze returning to your lap as you feel too cowardly to even respond.

“nothing to say now, hmm?” he says again coldly, almost mocking your state. you continue to look in your lap, avoiding his intense stare at all costs.

you feel your heart drop as he reaches a hand out to your chin, gripping it slightly to look up at him.

“you want to please me, don’t you y/n?” his eyes are glaring at you, his words harsh and his face emotionless as he awaits for your response.

“y-yes sir.” you clench your thighs together at his words, afraid he might be able to see too much of you from the close proximity. he looks down at your legs, noticing the slight movement and smirks as his eyes return back to yours.

“now you can either please me, or i’ll find someone else that can.” his fingers begin to grip on your chin tighter, almost until it becomes painful.

you look up at him confused, not sure what he means. “i’m sorry sir, i’m not understanding.”

he releases his grip on your chin, rolling his eyes as he leans down, his hand now grazing your inner thigh. you feel your stomach drop as you realize now what he was implying. you had no intention of sleeping with park jimin, he was your boss, and as much as you could appreciate his attractiveness, you were a modest girl, and held your virginity very close to your heart. you promised yourself as a young girl that you would prioritize yourself and respect not only your body but your future husband.

“do you want to keep your job, y/n?” you feel goosebumps arise on your skin as his fingers begin to trail up higher and higher. you hate the way your body’s reacting, and internally scold yourself for being so sensitive to touch, having not received much of it in your life thus far.

you gain as much confidence as you possibly can as you look up at him, his eyes dark and taunting.

“i hope you’re not implying what i think you’re implying, sir.” your voice comes out shakier than you had anticipated, and you watch as your boss only chuckles lowly in response.

“i guess that depends on whether or not you want to keep your job, sweetheart.” he pulls his hand away from your thigh and returns to his original position behind his desk. sitting down cockily as he begins to pick up where he left off on his computer.

you’re shocked at his behavior. you never would’ve imagined that a man as professional as him would create such an uncomfortable work environment for a young girl like you just setting out on her career.

if you thought you had felt rage earlier, you were wrong. you sprung up from your seat and stormed behind his desk. “you can’t do this.”

he stops his typing and turns in his chair to face you, a sly grin plastered across his face.

“of course i can, sweetheart. i own the company.”

you feel defeated. how is it that you ended up in this position? all you wanted was a break from all the work he piles on top of you. you were only one person, and now he was treating you like you were nothing more than an office slut to be used by him whenever he felt like it. you were not about to let that slide.

“you don’t deserve to run a company if you’re going to do so by using fear.” you felt the words leave your mouth before you even had a chance to process them. watching as his sly grin turned into a cocky smile. he sat up in his chair just enough so he was able to reach out and wrap a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

you feel your breath hitch in your throat at the sudden contact, and watch as his hand that was once around your waist slides down to the inside of your thigh once more.

“sweetheart, fear is how you get things done.” he looks up at you tauntingly as he brings his hand higher and higher up your thigh, only inches away from your most sacred area.

you feel your legs begin to tremble slightly, both in fear and sensitivity. you hate how your body was reacting to his touch, but you couldn’t help it. you didn’t want to have sex with him but after being celibate your whole life, your body had a mind of its own.

“stop touching me.” your voice is breathy and unstable, only spurring him on more.

he brings his hand up even higher between your legs, gently grazing against your clothed core. “should i? i mean it looks like you’re enjoying it. you don’t have to fake it, y/n, we both know you want this.” you freeze up as you feel his finger move towards the side of your underwear, pushing the seam to the side as he begins to push a finger towards your sopping hole.

you quickly snap yourself back to reality and push his hand away. you hated being pushed around, and you weren’t about to let him get away with it.

“i said stop.” you watch as the smile drops from his face completely, leaving behind something that’s not cold or emotionless like before, but mad.

you’re barely able to catch your breath before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and bending you over his desk in one fell swoop.

your heart stops for a moment, realizing now what you’ve done. he wasn’t asking you for permission, he was telling you, and now he was going to take it whether you liked it or not. you feel your heart fall deeper into your stomach, your body doing anything it can to wriggle out of his hold but it’s no use. he has you pinned against his desk, and there’s no denying how much stronger he was than you.

you feel your eyes start to well up as he brings his hands up your skirt, quickly tearing off your underwear and ignoring your gentle pleas.

“i gave you a choice, y/n. you did this to yourself.” his words induce a panic in you that you’ve never felt before, his presence behind you scaring you in ways that will stay for the rest of your life. you try to use your hands to push him away from you, but without being able to see him, you’re quickly overpowered as he gathers your hands with one of his own.

you feel a tear start to fall down your cheek as he brings a hand up to your cunt, your slick only pooling up more at his earlier ministrations.

“look at you, y/n. and you mean to tell me you don’t want this?” his voice is calm and collected as he begins prodding at your untouched hole. you curse yourself for even entering his office in the first place. you should’ve known better. but all you could do now was accept your fate.

you bury your head into his desk as he enters a finger into your throbbing cunt, your body only reacting more at the new unfamiliar sensation. you had touched yourself before sure, but never like this, and never by someone else. you feel your stomach flutter as one finger turns into two, stretching you out more than you even thought was possible.

“god you’re a tight little thing. i knew you would be when i first saw you. i’ve been waiting to see you bent over my desk like this. feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers into your ear, and you can’t deny the tingling that you begin to feel in between your legs.

you don’t respond to him, and do everything you can to control the moans that are begging to fall from your mouth. you feel dirty, disgusting, everything you’ve held close to your heart is falling away, something you’ve been waiting for patiently is now being stolen from you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

he notices your lack of response and slowly removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, your juices now spread down your thighs as he looks down at your fingers and sees a tinge of red between them.

“that time of the month, huh?” he questions, reaching over your head to retrieve a tissue from off his desk.

you lay there, emotionless, only able to muster up a slight shake of your head as you feel another tear roll down your cheek.

he quirks an eyebrow, noting your reaction.

“well you’re bleeding, y/n.” he continues to wipe his fingers, seeing the red tinge transfer from his skin to the blank canvas, now stained with your juices.

“i’m a virgin.” you say coldly, your body tired from fighting and simply laying still on his desk.

jimin stops in his tracks for a moment before throwing the tissue into the trash can next to the desk. his eyes tracing your figure almost as if he doesn’t believe you.

“a virgin, huh?” he mutters under his breath, releasing your hands from behind your back only to duck beneath you so he’s eye level with your soaking cunt. he watches as your hole tightens and closes occasionally, feeling his pants get tighter at the thought of defiling you on his desk right there and now.

he brings his head back up from beneath you, and brings his hands to your waist, stroking it gently as he watches you flinch under his touch.

“i’m not sure if i believe you, sweetheart.” his touch is gentle, only making your stomach flutter more, you curse yourself silently for being so easily pleased.

“you don’t have to believe me, it’s the truth.” jimin admires the sight before him, how wet you were for him and only him, your body crumpling under his hold, all the dirty disgusting things he could do to you before you realize that he’s the only one that could ever make you feel this way.

he feels a pang of sympathy. although he always gets what he wants, that doesn’t mean he has to deny you of what you want at the same time, and although you might deny it, he knows you want nothing more than to feel what it’s like to give yourself up to someone completely.

he quickly places his hands on your waist, turning you around to face him but keeping you laid on the desk.

standing between your legs, he brings his hand back down to the inside of your thigh, running it up your leg gently and watching as you shake harder. out of fear or sensitivity, he couldn’t tell, but he carefully brings a single finger back up to your dripping cunt, running it along your folds and watching as you wiggle your bottom half slightly in response, your skirt only hiking up further around your waist.

he smirks to himself, knowing that deep down you’re a corrupted dirty slut who wants to be treated like this.

he begins to circle your clit, his touch light and sweet as you bite your lip to keep quiet. how could something so wrong feel so right?

your breathing is heavy as you feel a knot form in your stomach, your hips swaying in turn with his fingers to create more friction, and jimin just watches as the girl who was so keen on being a virgin is slowly starting to come undone from his touch alone.

“see that wasn’t too hard now, was it?” his words are taunting, devilish, but you couldn’t deny how they made you feel, how he made you feel.

you want to tell him to shut up, you want to push him away, but every muscle in your body is begging for him to keep going, begging to defile you and use you.

he watches as you quickly become a needy mess. slick dripping down his fingers as you ride them greedily, signaling you were close. virgins got close so quickly. your face contorting and your bitten lip stifling your moans, you didn’t have to tell him that the knot in your stomach was close to releasing, he could see it written all over your body.

but not until he quickly removes his fingers from between your legs, watching as your legs begin to shake harder now, but still, you stay silent, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying this.

“what? were you close, sweetheart?” he leans above you watching as the only response you can muster is a slight shake of the head, your cheeks burning up, hair sticking to your face.

“good. wouldn’t want to ruin the fun now would we?” his voice is so mean yet so sweet at the same time, as he brings his hands to his belt and begins to undo it slowly, watching as your eyes widen in nervousness.

you feel panicked, you knew it was going to happen eventually but like this? was it wrong that you wanted it? you watch carefully as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop, his cock springing out between the two of you. he was so big.

how would he even fit? you heard it always hurts the first time but you never imagined a cock could look like that. your mind was racing with a million questions, and jimin ignored every last one of them, taking his position between you and aligning himself with your entrance.

“nervous?” he prods his cock at your hole gently, but doesn’t put it in, seemingly testing the waters as he looks up at you. if you didn’t know better you would’ve thought he looked concerned.

you shake your head no, still not able to formulate an audible response.

“good.” and with that final word he plunges into you deeply, giving you no time to adjust. you’re unable to contain the scream that leaves your throat as he bottoms out inside of you, your upper half flying forward towards him to seek any type of comfort, or even to find something to hold onto, but you’re only met with his hand on your chest pushing you back down on the desk.

he places a hand on your mouth, and uses his other to wrap your legs around his waist, leaning forward as he begins to thrust into you hard.

“shut up and take it, you did this to yourself.” his speed is unimaginable, you feel like you’re going to rip in half the pain is almost too much to bare. how could this be pleasurable for anyone? you feel a tear starting to roll down your cheek as he picks up the pace, his hand on your mouth being the only thing keeping you from screaming bloody murder.

jimin removes his hands from your leg and mouth and brings them down to your hips, pushing you down harder onto his cock as he begins rolling his hips into yours.

and then, something happens. you let out a moan. you feel it fall across your lips before you have time to stop yourself. something felt good. you look down between the two of you and watch as he rolls his hips into yours, his cock hitting something inside you deliciously with every single thrust.

“what? feel good all of a sudden?” he taunts, watching your confused expression as you try to figure out what it is your experiencing. what was this feeling? what was he hitting inside of you to make you feel like this? and all at the same time, you feel that knot building in your stomach again.

you let out a small moan, your hands reaching out to his hips to stabilize yourself, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

jimin quickly notices your response and grins, quickening his pace and bringing one hand down to circle your clit gently.

“feels good, doesn’t it sweetheart?” his voice is dripping with sex, the tension in your abdomen only getting worse with his words. he begins to fuck you harder in response, rolling his hips deeper and deeper.

you moan again, suddenly gaining some of your confidence back. “yes, fuck. it does.”

jimin grins at your response, continuing his ministrations on your tiny clit as he watches you become a writhing mess beneath him. but he can only keep himself in control for so long. every part of him wants to tear at your skin and pull your hair, but something in him is going easy on you.

you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release, moving your hips in response to his, matching his movements as best as you can, but you’re so close you barely know how to think.

“cum for me angel. show me how dirty you can be.” and with that, you’re seeing stars. it felt entirely different than when you did it yourself, something in you blacked out, you couldn’t hear or see, all you knew was that he felt better than you could’ve even imagined.

jimin watched as you creamed on his cock, your walls tightening around him and only spurring him on more, you were so tight now he could barely move, but he kept up his pace, maybe even harder than before as he watched you squirm under him.

“that’s right good girl.” the praises roll off his tongue as he glides a hand down your chest, watching your body shake and shiver under his touch. he could get used to seeing you like this.

you come down, feeling exhausted and warn out, watching as jimin’s pace quickens, his breathing harsh as grips onto your hips tighter, almost tight enough to leave bruises.

“fuck you feel so good.” he buries his head into your neck, biting and licking any piece of skin he can find as he feels himself getting closer to the edge. his hips never once stalling as he fucks you harder than he’s ever fucked anyone before.

you’ve never seen a man get like this, especially not jimin, he looked so human, so raw. his neck sticky, hair damp, face flushed and lips swollen from biting them. he looked… human.

you admire the sight before you as he takes one final plunge, filling you up with everything he has to offer. if you felt dirty before you weren’t prepared for the feeling of jimin pulling out of you, admiring his seed spill from your cunt, your walls throbbing from the overstimulation.

you both look at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or what to do. all you knew now was that the workplace was going to be different.

jimin reaches over you to the tissues on the desk and begins cleaning you and himself up, the tension filling the room as you both awkwardly recover from your intense interaction.

it’s not until you stand up from his desk and lose your footing, forcing him to lean in and catch you, that you share a normal exchange for the first time all day.

“your legs are gonna be sore for a while.” he mutters, allowing you to stand on your own as you regain your composure.

“yeah among other things.” you say quietly, putting your underwear back on and fixing your skirt, you watch as jimin’s eyes dance once last time over your figure, before you clear your throats and find an excuse to get back to work.

“i should probably get going, i have a lot to get done.” you say quickly, fumbling towards the door.

“yeah.” jimin sits down again at his desk, now messy looking at the random patches of wetness scattered across his important documents and his computer almost falling off.

he looks up at you as you walk towards the door, legs still shaking slightly, and he grins to himself.

“y/n, i’ll give you a break with those assignments. take your lunch early today, okay?” his voice is gentle, making you turn around to face him before leaving the room completely.

“thanks.”

[coolprettyleo]

the black dog - will smith ☆

will smith x reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: breakups. heartbroken. angst. fluff? longing. talks of nudity. lmk if I missed any!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you stared at your phone for what felt like hours. re-reading the headline over and over again.

will smith signs an entry-level contract with the san jose sharks!

you had a lot of emotions running through your veins right now; and breaking down crying was the one that overcame it all.

of course, you knew this had nothing to do with you, but maybe that's why it made you feel like shit. there used to be a time when that very same boy used to tell you his secrets, his accomplishments, and his thoughts.

you were no different than a stranger, and that's what pierced holes in your heart.

you had met will during a communications lecture when he asked to borrow a pencil. you immediately found him charming and cute, so it didn't take long for you to ask him to get coffee. he liked your forwardness, and one thing led to another; the two of you began to talk.

soon after, he began to call you his girlfriend, and you even met his family as he did yours. you were living the college dream and the cheesy part inside you loved it.

everything was perfect, in your eyes. so imagine the surprise you had when your boyfriend told you he wasn't looking for anything too serious. almost six months into dating you.

the two of you had been cuddled up on top of your twin-size bed as you did what any college couple did. talk about your future. what meant to be playful pillow talk, turned into your worst nightmare.

"I can't wait till our sophomore year. we'll finally have our own rooms," you said, thinking about the fact it was hard to get alone time in bed, due to the fact you both had roommates. knowing sophomore year was when the students upgraded to apartments.

you felt him still, and you looked up to see your boyfriend deeply in thought.

"are you okay?" you asked softly as he looked to be contemplating his next words.

"i've been meaning to talk to you"

"what?" you asked cluelessly as you stared at your boyfriend as he pulled away from your touch. he pulled away as if you were burning him.

"I'm just-- I'm not looking to go into a serious relationship right now. I have a lot of things to deal with right now, and I'm not going to be able to be there for you. you don't deserve a half-ass boyfriend." he told you. you searched his face looking for a single ounce of jokingness. nothing.

"I- I don't get it? are you thinking about signing?" you asked him as he ran his fingers through his face and into his hair.

"no. it's just not a good idea to be focusing on anything other than hockey right now. I'm sorry" he told you after a moment of silence. as you stared at your fingers with glossed eyes, praying to god your tears stayed at bay.

"why did you wait," you said after a long silence.

"what?" he asked cluelessly.

"why would you wait. wait till now to tell me this? wait till I completely fell in love with you? wait till six months to tell me this" you said with a spark of anger shining in your eyes.

he looked away before licking his lips and sighing.

"I'm sorry" was all he said before he reached for his phone and walked out.

you shook the memory off as you continued to read the article. apparently, he had known he was signing since men's worlds. he broke up with you a little after that, meaning he decided against telling you. meaning he lied when he told you 'no'.

there was a time when he used to tell you his secrets.

you wondered if he had made to move to san jose already. you'd never admit it to anyone, but you still looked at his location. he had forgotten to turn it off, and it brought you comfort seeing it.

that comfort you were looking for was nowhere to be seen as you saw his contact walk down a street in boston filled with bars. you stared at the screen as his location walked into some bar called the black dog. you knew it was a bar because you yourself have been there.

you yourself had danced with him there after they beat bu. you were there when he had been so hyped up about winning and chose to kiss you for the very first time that night; you were there and you remembered it. you remembered it all too well.

your eyes filled with tears. thinking about all the scenarios that could be happening right now.

maybe he would meet a girl. who were you kidding? of course, he was meeting a girl; any girl would be lining up to have him. he would jump up at the opportunity of a pickup line when the bar played his favorite song. a song you showed him, but at the end of the day, she'd be too young to even know the song. since the two of you always thought of yourselves as being 'old souls'.

it was no secret you had taken the breakup harder. while the holes he pierced through your heart knocked you down, he seemed to be doing the complete opposite.

why didn't he miss you? why didn't he miss you like you missed him?

that thought lived in your head, and you just hoped that it all at least meant something; something to him at least.

you went back to work, seeing as your break was over, contemplating the idea of whether or not to reach out and congratulate him for signing. you knew he had dreamed about being in the NHL since he was a kid. you longed to jump into his arms and soothe away the nerves you knew he had.

"what if I'm not as good as everyone thinks I am," he said, looking out into the city lights. the two of you had just gone out for a sweet treat, and he took you to a spot his grandpa used to take him and his sister to. the view was breathtaking. you remembered.

you scoffed before looking at your boyfriend. he was truly an electric player, and the fact he even closely believed he wasn't good enough was baffling to you.

"you wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't"

"no-- I mean, what if i get to the NHL and I crumble, it's happened to players before"

"but it won't happen to you. your amazing, and you put in the work every day to be extraordinary, and I promise you, you'll get rewarded for that"

he smiled before leaning over to lean against you

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," you said softly as you raked your fingers through his hair.

you wondered if he missed that. he always liked it when you ran your fingers through his hair.

there were a lot of things he liked.

he used to like showering with you. you even kept some of your hair products at his place. you wondered if he missed you whenever he showered. he probably threw them away but did the empty void of that area remind him of you?

you shook off the thought as you went back to work with a bland look. a look you've been carrying for a few weeks as you had been someone who was moving through the world with a heartbroken.

you ended the day choosing against the text of congratulations, your longing will stay unspoken and it will continue that way. hoping that one day you'll have the guts to move on.

although that didn't seem plausible to you, due to the fact you didn't know if you could ever open up to anyone the way you had for him.

you remembered telling him everything, every memory, every experience, from best to worst.

you remembered the way he consoled you through your parent's divorce, the way he held you and told you he'd never leave you; like your father had done to your mother.

you wanted to laugh at how well he had played the role of a 'brave man,' so well, until you believed him. It was cruel. so cruel that you wondered if it was all just a scheme. was it hazing so he could get into some fraternity he had secretly pledged to? you laughed knowing damn well, will would rather die than join a frat.

you just didn't understand. you didn't think you ever would.

did he hate you? is that why he did what he did?

even though it had been six weeks since he walked out of your life. six weeks since you started breathing 'clean air' faraway from him, you still missed the smoke more than ever.

you missed the way he held you, the way he kissed you, and stupidly, his hockey jokes that you would never understand. thinking back on it, he might have been making fun of you.

you arrived home after a long day, and looked around your room to see it look normal to the average eye. but to the heartbroken girl within you, all you saw was the ghost of him.

the hole in your wall from the nail of a picture frame of the two of you at the beach. the lego flowers the two of you had built together, the nightstand he helped you assemble, hell, even the shirt you were wearing was one he gifted you.

you wanted to sell everything you owned and set fire to all your clothes.

everything reminded you of him. every corner was haunted by his ghost. you even thought about hiring a priest to come and exorcise the house, but that would be stupid. or would it?

you would die screaming if it meant forgetting him.

a part of you wanted him to hear it, to hear what he did to you, and to know the pain he caused you. maybe then he'll feel bad. maybe then he'd miss you.

you looked back at his location to see him still there.

still there living his life, and you just hoped it was shitty in that damn bar. you hoped he was having a miserable time and stood on the sidelines as he missed you, ultimately deciding to leave with his tail between his legs, humiliated. was that too much for a girl to ask for?

you lied in your bed as you stared at the empty spot where he used to lay.

you fell asleep with one thought.

you still couldn't believe it.

[morphids]

hi!! i just recently found your blog and i love all your hange work 🥲❤️ i was wondering if you could make a fic about detective!hange x vampire!reader ! i thought it could be like season 4 hange where they kinda lost their spark due to the stress of being commander but in this different AU and they gain it back after meeting Y/N. like there’s been many deaths being deaths being reported and hange was spending night after night trying to figure out who this ‘serial killer’ is, only to find out that it’s a vampire! this peaks hange’s interest how they build a relationship is up to you coz i’m not sure but ngl i feel like hange would offer Y/N to suck some blood from their neck for… research purposes and then lowkey be into it and then go into some smut maybe hehe

taste of copper, hange zoë

hey so…? this request eats i’m so excited!! thank u for requesting this <3 hope it’s to ur liking!!

summary: nb detective!hange zoe x vampire!reader, afab bodies!

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni!!! explicit sexual content, poc friendly!! mentions of death/dead bodies, murder, blood (it is a vamp fic), um kinky stuff icl, blood kink, tbh hange is p canon i feel like they’d acc be into vampires fr, hange is kidnapped and tied up (sry that ep gave me brain damage) but they’re into it, vamp sex, SUB!HANGE RETURNS, age gap—r is like at least 90 lmao, hange is around late-30s (hot), restraints, fingering, munching, slight degradation, more blood!!

psa— pls don’t fuck cops irl guys, just don’t

wc: …14k … once again i have nothing to say for myself lmao

In the peak of winter, the cold had set over the local town, chilling everything within it. Plants had frosted over, grass was frozen solid and the sun seldom shone.

Hange was Chief Detective, an expert within their field. Had accomplished several degrees in a multitude of disciplines; biochemistry, criminology and law. A jack of all trades, master of all, so to speak. An intellectual prodigy.

The last few years had been slow, crime rates had lowered exceptionally. Logically, Hange knew this was a good thing, it meant that they had been doing their job incredibly successfully. But... it also means that they've been very bored, disillusioned—borderline out of a job. Their days started to merge together, the monotony of mundane tasks repeating themselves everyday left no space for the mind to expand and grow. Hange was bored, the spark they had for their field diminishing with each passing day.

It's hard to be a detective in a low crime zone. The force has been dealing with a lot of ennui lately. Again—it's not a bad thing, in reality. It's just that Hange hates being stuck with nothing to do, and resents being idle, simply forced to twiddle their thumbs.

That is, until a field of bodies starts showing up. Popped up scattered in different parts of the woods. Corpses cold, grey and drained of all of their blood. Completely exsanguinated.

"Heh—reminds me of the ol' chupacabra legends," said one of the interns, rather insensitively, before being hushed by his superiors. Reminded and reprimanded to take the job seriously.

It is curious, though. Corpses left with no visible injuries, except from two puncture wounds in varying parts of the body. No pattern to the location of drainage points, the only consistency being the total drainage.

It had been going on for a few weeks, with one body found hidden in the forest each week. Hange feels a little guilty at how much they begin to relish the thrill of an active investigation again.

Hell, even their coworkers notice. In the mornings, whilst everyone is settling into their desks, Hange hears: "Detective, you're looking well!" and "Glad to see you're feeling like yourself again, Hange!"

It's almost embarrassing, that everyone on the squad can see how much they're thriving with the new caseload. An almost unseemly sentiment within law enforcement. They just can't help it, their brain is working, synapses finally flying to work after being useless for so long as they try to get to the bottom of the new case. Even though there was minimal evidence to work with.

Meanwhile, you had moved into town a few months back. You'd wanted to blend in with human society first, get your bearings within a new location before bodies began dropping as soon as a new person moved in the area.

Being a vampire, it was easy enough to gather fake documents proving your legitimacy—false passports, IDs and new bank accounts in a rotation every couple of years. It was easy enough to compel high rank officials into signing, stamping and creating legal documents for you.

When you first moved, you were disappointed that there were no others of your species living there. Odd considering most towns have at least two residential vampires. Yet the lack of decay and death in the air tells you that you are the only one to reside there. A shame, really, you'd hoped for there to be at least one—other vampires are more fun to fraternize with, easier to band community with than humans.

So you wait, bide your time, feeding on squirrels and wild wolves to get you through for a few months until your body can't survive on it any longer. Animal blood keeps you going, sure, but it lacks the nutrition you need from humans—lacks the taste, too, frankly. Tastes like unseasoned meat that was left to boil in dull water.

You can feel your body growing frail, the muscles in your limbs chewing on themselves. The strength in your body was growing more feeble by the minute, your speed lessening. Icy skin started to feel parched and your stomach constantly feels empty. It's not good enough, you need real food.

So, you begin observing the town. Watch the residents from afar and pick out victims that would be a good source of energy and life. The limitations are already high enough, illness and disease in humans weakens their blood, isn't nutritious and takes like burnt, soiled metal on your tongue. You need healthy, hearty blood.

Preferably, they'd have little to no living family members, fewer people to miss them. Maybe they're lonely and live on their own, maybe they're a regular menace in the town—people who simply aren't going to be missed as much. Anything to prolong the bodies being reported missing and found.

So you gather your intel, and people-watch until you find that perfect person to keep your body going until the next week. Then you'd bring them to the woods, cast your enticing 'spells', enchanting voice and charming eye contact to lure them in. You weren't above using seduction as a feeding tactic. Plus, it helps that vampires have a certain allure that humans find desirable.

The sweet whispers of your voice and the elfin connection of your eyes lure them into a sense of security. The calm that encompasses them grants you time for the spell to kick in until they become a shell of their body. Following your commands, wishing to do anything to please you—pliable. It was just so easy.

Subsequently, it isn't difficult to take them. Almost unbelievable how eagerly they follow you in the darkest depths of the forest, hidden away from street lamps and passing car headlights. Not even the moonlight can penetrate through the thickness of the tree branches, nor a sliver of illumination bounce on the ground through gaps in the leaves.

It's your most perfect spot, you were quite proud of it.

There, you suck them dry. Sink your sharpened incisors into them, calming them down as you drink every last drop they have to offer. Then, once their soul has left their body, once the light has left their eyes, you plant them in different spots. A body hidden under a bed of dead, fallen leaves every week. You had the sequence down to a perfection. You'd try to be as humane as possible, but ultimately humans are just a source of food. The circle of life and all.

You've been doing this for over seventy years. A list of principles and rules had been the mode of operating you followed over the years to keep yourself safe and secure. You don't befriend humans, don't interact with them unless you have to, and you definitely don't fall in love with them. It was a lesson you had learned the hard way a few decades past. Betrayal freezing your heart and halting any attempts of connection.

Leaving behind physical evidence is no concern, the dead circulation from your heart has left you with a lack of fingerprints, a lack of dead, shedding skin cells —things human killers have to worry about, you didn't. Your body is almost in a state of perpetual permafrost, the coldness in your veins preserves your skin. It'd retained its look from the point at which you were turned. The hair on your scalp doesn't grow anymore, and neither do your nails. Stagnancy meant that you took pride in maintaining the length and lusciousness you'd carried when you were still a human, yourself. It helps you feed, after all.

It doesn't mean you didn't have to be careful about other things, though. You had to ensure you didn't make stupid mistakes, even without any physical biological evidence. You may be able to outrun humans, and it's easy enough to kill someone who'd dare to catch you, at a time—but no one could fight against an armed horde ambush if they were overpowered. Stranger things have happened than a vampire getting imprisoned. So you were careful. You didn't want the headache, too high a risk of any potential loose ends ruining your flow of life.

You've done this shit for about seventy years, so how the fuck could you have fucked up, now?

—

Hange is a damned, good detective. Their concentration is aided by the hypnosis of their own hyperfocus, the honed tunnel vision when they're on a case. Countless sleepless nights and a peculiar way of thinking. Hange truly is the very best of the very best, having solved every single case they'd ever been assigned to.

Working on cases back in their more youthful days used to breathe life into them, back when technology wasn't such a huge aspect of catching a criminal. When serial killers weren't as careful about being caught by someone's domestic CCTV. Back when autopsies weren't helped by technological, medical advancements, there had been a lot more murders then. A crazy amount of crime, here, there, and just about everywhere. Nowadays, cases are minimal, the ones that occurred were easily an open-shut case, solved almost instantly.

Which is why their giddiness was now returning to them. At first glance, no one on the force knows how to go about solving this, people working under Hange have no idea where to even begin looking. No viable evidence means there's no plausible cause to question suspects which they don't even have.

The furthest Hange got was extracting lingering traces of an unidentified chemical from the puncture points of every victim— one that Hange concluded was used to knock out and sedate the victims.

The chemical compounds were closely similar to that of the synthetic drug, Ketamine, it just wasn't related enough to be properly classified under that. Plus, the traces found on the punctures were so small, and naturally altered. It was more distinctly relative to that of bat venom, but with a distinctive non-animal chemical formation—it's unlike anything they have ever seen before.

At least, though, it cemented that this was a series of planned serial murders, not a case of multiple, unfortunate animal attacks. Someone must've developed a new drug and have been experimenting it on the locals, Hange hoped there was lead here. Ultimately, though, nothing came of it, no other traces of this unidentified substance had been found.

One night, Hange is working late at the lab, their squad had been sent home to rest for the night. Hange stayed behind, as they usually did, to keep investigating. Looking over the very same evidence they had since the beginning and getting no more results.

It's itching at Hange, this has to be the work of one person, an individual who is careful about covering their tracks, someone who is almost untraceable. Someone smart, they thought, the DNA from the killer in the punctures is simply just.. not there, like it'd vanished, and all that remains is the fleeting chemical traces.

Hange gets a hunch, that the bodies had no more evidence to discover but perhaps the clothes the victims were wearing might? All of that stuff had been sealed away in the evidence locker but no one had looked it over, too busy focusing on the bodies themselves.

On a newfound mission, Hange grabs all of the locked-up clothing from the lockers, deciding to investigate it with the hopes that there was something potentially missed during the first scans.

Lo and behold, after careful examination, there it was. So minute, it was almost missed, almost. Smushed along the cotton sleeve of the most recent victim's jacket, was plant residue. Hange swallowed their growing animation, a less than respectable way to behave.

It isn't much, but they'd take any potential lead they could get.

Deciding to extract the residue, Hange realised they were not going home to rest anytime soon—this was far more important. With the ticking of the wall clock behind them, it prompted Hange to place some of the extracts between two sterile plates of thin glass. Ready for examination under the microscope. With it being so early in the a.m, the toxicology lab had long closed, forcing Hange to look into it themself—which is fine, they tended to work faster when they're left to their own devices.

After a few rather extensive screens and tests, Hange managed to come to the conclusion that this particular plant is toxic, its oils and compounds are consistent with that of black spider lilies. A plant that is not geographically native to this area, and extremely odd that traces of it would even be found around here.

But, looking back... Hange swears that they've seen black spider lilies recently, definitely somewhere close and local, particularly on the windowsill of one specific house. A house that had been deemed uninhabitable a few years ago, had something to do with asbestos trapped within the ceiling and roof. It'd been reported unusable and was left to rot.

It should've raised some flags then, when once Hange was driving on their commute to work and suddenly that house was now back in use. Someone residing there had decorated the outside and the lights were now on. The old, unsanctioned house looked pretty again, refurbished. Hange had just assumed someone bought the place and its problems had been fixed, thought nothing more of it. But now? Things were starting to look good for the investigation.

Absolutely nowhere else had Hange seen this type of flower, certainly nowhere in this town. It's definitely a lead, they thought, something stirring in their gut, intuitive that this was something important.

At the developments, Hange began laughing to themself, almost manically. The thrill of the chase rushed through their veins.

I've got you.

By the time they had finished the tests and tidied the lab, it was already around three in the morning. Perhaps, they should've waited until the first crack of morning, but being the chief detective and having no other reasonable person in the office to warn them against it, Hange got impulsive. They wanted to at least check out the house and its residents tonight.

Maybe they should've even left a note, of what they found and who the new prime suspect is, in the case of anything going awry. Did they? Of course not! Caution was thrown to the wind, logical reasoning overpassed by their giddy excitement with each passing second.

Eagerness clearly too strong a force to fight, as Hange raced to put on their long trench coat, unlock their parked car and drove to the location.

There the flowers were, clear as day, or night, really. Perfectly cultivated and well-maintained black spider lilies, standing tall and sturdy in their vases. Beautiful plants, honestly, but oh, so incriminating. Hange couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from their lips.

Oh, I've so got you.

Perhaps a little silly of them, caught up in their own little wave, Hange ended up jumping the gun. Unlocking the car door to stand between where it connected to the body of the vehicle. An arm perched over the roof of the car as they watched. They did try to be discreet, and hadn't shut the car door with the hopes that the residence wouldn't be disturbed and catch on that they were being watched by a mere door slam.

However, you had heard the purr of a car engine long before it even reached your street, it was a loud bang within your well-attuned sonic ears against the otherwise silent serenity of the night. You had heard the click of the car door opening, followed by a light, low chuckle.

You knew you were being watched before they even began watching you.

Silently, you made your way out your back door, remaining unseen the whole time. Your movements were so quick, that no human eye was able to possibly detect even a mere shadow with the inhuman swiftness of which you moved, placing yourself behind your observer.

Biting back a laugh from behind them, you looked over their body language. This person is clearly a cop, their loud attire told you that enough, a white dress shirt finished with a tie and brown slacks underneath a trench coat. There was a subtle bump underneath their coat indicating the gun holster that was snugly hidden against their torso. A smarter cop than most, if they found you, that's for sure. But not smart enough to think to stay within the safe confines of the car, or to bring a partner along with them.

Honestly, you had expected a cop to have better survival instincts. They hadn't even noticed your looming presence behind them, predatory and proud as you smirked to yourself. Taking the opportunity to observe them whilst they thought they were one step ahead, sneakily observing you, instead.

But, fuck, if their scent wasn't divine, the exhilaration touring through their veins filled your nose. Their ample zeal emanates from their body like a radiative aura. The pumping major vein in their neck pounded just decadently against their skin; its throbbing was so minute only your enhanced eyes could sense it. The keen adrenaline in their blood makes it all the more irresistible.

Blood laced with fear is delicious, but blood laced with excitement? God, it's simply heavenly, nectarous. This is strong, healthy blood, the aroma of warm, honeyed copper pumping down their nerves was dizzying, fuck.

"What exactly are you doing?" your voice broke through the silence like honey, soft against the harsh thumps of heartbeat in Hange's ears. The detective almost jumped out of their skin, the excitement in their blood swished with the newfound fear of being caught. They turned to face you slowly, eyes wide and lips agape, confused by how someone managed to creep up behind them without Hange even noticing. Just how was that possible? They were trained for shit like this.

"I..uh... I'm patrolling the area, ma'am." "Oh yeah? You just look like someone creeping through windows from here."

Truthfully, you liked to play with your food.

The detective flushed, only realising how this could look to a passing pedestrian, but what could they possibly say? Sorry, I'm pursuing an active investigation into a potential neighbour of yours? This begged the question, who even are you and why are you out on the streets at this hour? Hange's head began whirling, a peculiar headache began to ache in their skull. The dull pain was followed by a dizzying, thick sensation in their body, making them flustered.

"Oh, um..." Hange cleared their throat, trying to ignore the growing sensation, "Police business, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't disclose that information."

Oh?

"Well, perhaps you should show me your badge? Seeing as you just look like someone's stalker to me."

Hange swallowed, they'd never seen you before, not in town or any grocery store, nothing. They would've remembered someone who carried themselves the way you did, almost regal in nature, refined and... enticing? Hange's senses were growing lulled, more compliant. Usually, they'd have argued more, hesitant to whip their badge out. Normally, they would be more alert and able to notice the explicit trap. Right now, though, their hand easily slipped into the coat's inside pocket, limbs moving on their own accord as their badge was brought out into the cold air of the night.

Pleased, you smiled to yourself, watching the glaze over their eyes. It was one of your favourite parts in these moments. Watching as their body becomes not their own momentarily until you deem it necessary and let them return to their own senses. You just loved how pathetically pliant they all get, how easily influenced their little minds are until you say so. So easy to compel them to your every command.

The detective slipped the badge into your hand, you didn't even bother to look at it whilst you whispered, "And your gun, too, love."

The words hung like a poison, Hange wasn't in their right mind to decline you, hand slipping into their black holster as they pulled out the sleek, metal weapon. When it was safely in your hand, you smiled sweetly—it's not like the gun could kill you, but gunshots make one hell of a noise. It's smarter to avoid violent confrontation as much as you can, you don't want any more cops sniffing around.

"That's it."

Just like that, within a second Hange was back in their head, their half-lidded eyes reverting back to their regular alertness.

"I—uh," and there was the confusion, it's normal that once the 'spell'is lifted, humans feel a little disoriented, dazed and confused.

"It's alright, dear, just come with me."

—

Hange doesn't remember any of it; the last they recall is parking up and evaluating the suspect house from their car. Their heart began anxiously thumping as they awoke in a dimly lit, lavish bedroom, adorned with lush green velvet fabrics on the curtains. Rich, deep hues of purple coating the walls and lavish textiles on the textured rugs.

The detective's wrists were trapped behind their back, bound tightly with a silky red scarf. It felt plush and tender against their skin, a sharp contrast to the violent, threatening nature of their binds. Hange grunted, and tried to shout behind the gag over their mouth. Jaw slackened as another silk scarf tied around their mouth pressed their tongue to silence, ensuring that any words and shouts would be futile.

Hange thrashed against their binds, panic seeping through their chest whilst dread overtook their features. The scarf began to dig into their wrists, tight and snug against futile movements. Circulation beneath their wrists started to cease. Their chest was heaving, breaths were heavy, and their eyes glanced around the room, checking the surroundings.

Just what the hell happened?

Grunting against the gag, Hange's eyebrows furrowed. Their thrashes increased once they noticed you sat in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, arms crossed over your stomach with an amused expression plastered on your face.

"I'll remove the gags if you promise to keep quiet."

Hange shuddered in their restraints, what kind of situation did they get themself into? More grunts followed, muffled by the silk stuffed over their tongue as you tutted, shaking your head with minor disappointment.

"Looks like it's staying on."

You stood, powerful and confident in your ethereal elegance as you slowly strut over to their keeled body. Pathetically bound to an exposed metal pipe by an extra length of fabric as it crossed over the silk. With each step getting closer, Hange's blood flowed more furiously, stiffened gaze stuck on you.

The clothes covering your body were dark, there was a black, corseted bell-sleeved top that hung off your shoulders exposing the shadows of your collarbone. A matching, long skirt flowed with your movements. A short golden necklace choked over your neck, with a longer pendant chain trailing down to the valley of your breasts. The warmth of the soft gold emphasised the glow in your skin, radiant and sleek. The pupils in your eyes were dark and coaxing, an almost unhinged tilt in the corner of your lips. Exquisite, in a spine-chilling way.

"You got so close, pity you were so stupid about it."

Hange shook their head at you, wide-eyed and pleading as you leaned over them. Your fingers teased at the hem of fabric covering their mouth, taunting a chance that you'd remove it. The detective stilled, eyes boring into your own defiantly as they swallowed down your words. The confession was pretty much meaningless if they were just about to die in a few minutes. Utterly pointless if it was taken to the grave with them.

"I'd love to know what led you here," you hummed, fingers digging underneath the silk, "How you managed to narrow it down."

At Hange's lack of movement, the threat of noise was stuck in their throat.

"You gonna be quiet for me, love?"

Hange's eyes glimmered with apprehension, it was seeping from their veins, the blood mixing with something else as it pulled towards your nose delightfully. The detective sighed, nodding with unbroken eye contact. Looks like they were braver than most, too. You smiled, tinted dark lips seemed nearly courteous and demure juxtaposing the whole situation, it was almost sweet.

"Perfect."

Fingers trailed between the silk, grazing Hange's warm cheeks so you could drag it down. It had been dampened by their saliva, stuck in their mouth for the length of time it was. You let it hang around their chin, a chilling reminder that you could prop it back up at any given moment.

"So?" You implored.

Hange clamoured, was it smart to attempt a threat or should they just give you what you want? What would keep them alive longer, before their colleagues found them dead in the woods, inexplicably drained of all their blood?

After a beat, Hange responded, "I, uh, I found residue of your plants... you're the only one that has those around here." Your eyebrows rose, astounded that you'd even left a trace, and a foolish one to boot. Never in your seventy years had you made such a laughable mistake. You were losing your finesse. Flower residue? That's a new one. Though, it's not like it matters much, you suppose, in the grand scheme of things. The longest possible life sentence had already been thrust upon you over seventy years ago. At the end of the twentieth year of your human life.

"I see, then I'll just have to be more careful next time," 

The apparent arrogance in your tone irritated Hange, the ludicrous confidence that you simply wouldn't get caught was stupefying and they couldn't prevent themself from interrupting. "There won't be a next time, I'm gonna arrest you and rot in prison for the rest of your sick life."

Then you merely laughed, a laugh so eerie and haunting, so inappropriate in its context. Their threat seemingly rolled off your back. "Oh, sweetheart, that's utterly brave of you." you sighed, beaming down at the detective, the words taunting, "How could you possibly arrest me when you're stuck right here?"

Hange's chest sunk, heart pacing around in its ribcage at the brutal reality of your words, they were powerless right now, completely at your mercy. Heck, no one in their squad even knew Hange was here.

"I..." "Has it sunk in yet? The fact that you're going to die here and no one will know?

"Shame, too," you hummed, "You're a very good-looking one, Hange, what a waste."

A gulp was swallowed down, unnerved by your haunting words. You knew their name and it slipped from your tongue so easily, like a hunter naming their trophy catch before shooting the animal between its eyes.

"You stole my badge?" Hange muttered, their eyes sinking. The question hung in the air, answered only by a low chuckle and nothing else. The question of the matter was still itching at Hange, though, the nature of the killings still unknown. If they were going to die, anyway, they at least wanted to know the truth of how those people died.

"...How do you do it?" The expression on your face slacked, looking down at them. They were peering up at you with a determined stare, the eager glint in their brown eyes wasn't estranged from their features. Eyes questioning and dead-set on knowing. Their inquisitive spirit was transparent to you, made painfully prominent. "If I tell you that, then I'd really have to kill you,"

"Aren't you, already, anyway?" Your composure faltered a little, frankly, this was a little messy, not aligning with how you normally liked to carry things through. Didn't follow your usual mode of operating, too many loose ends, I mean, they were in your house. You kill them and who's to say their squad doesn't follow the same leads and end up right here, too? Life imprisonment is a little murky when you're immortal. With no access to blood you'd soon perish, they'd find you as a pile of ashes on the ground of a cold cell.

Sure, you could escape and run away, start a new life and begin again, but you'd just gotten comfortable here. It's just another headache to start anew somewhere else, you liked this little house. A single build with a nice lawn, you'd refurbished it and fixed it up, even planted flowers for god's sake!

"It's not an ideal situation, I must admit."

Hange picked up on your hesitance, years on the field made it easy to pick out subtle changes in one's body language and tones. They looked at you, perplexed, their wide doe eyes gaping, you found it endearing, almost charming. The sweetness of their pumping blood was throwing you off, disarraying your head. How the tables turn, I guess.

"You really want to know?" Hange stilled, morbid curiosity eating at them, but they nodded firmly. There returned that determination, again, tugging at you. "..I eat until they drop."

The words from your lips came out with a solemn chuckle attached to an almost weary sigh. You never asked for this. Amidst Hange's horror, they could catch an almost pitiful sparkle in your eyes, their lips split open as they breathed out, "You...what?" There was a slump of their shoulders, finally breaking their gaze away from you and to the floor, "What the fuck does that mean?"

You sank back into your armchair, a red cushioned velvet, "I feed on them," you soughed, "Until there's nothing left." Hange was stirring, you couldn't possibly be saying what they think you were saying. Suddenly, the chupacabra joke from their colleague was no longer a joke. He had hit the nail right on the head. Their heart rate hiked up, you could feel it throbbing from within their veins, booming against your own ears.

"I... don't understand, that sounds like..." Hange couldn't even finish the sentence, it sounded too absurd to even be uttered. Vampires? Existing and roaming? What kind of Dracula sh—

"It is." You confirmed, Hange would've laughed at your trick if it hadn't been so confusing, except they did start laughing - the kind of nervous laughter one pulls out from their chest when they're scared. Shorter gasps mingled along with it, their body actively trying to neutralise a potential panic attack with a different physical respiratory response, especially since you weren't laughing along with them. The stony, faraway stare showed that you meant it.

The exsanguinated bodies, the delicate puncture holes, it all just made too much sense for something that just isn't supposed to make sense. "You're...not—that's not—vamp—they're..not real." You stood, striding over to the breathless detective folded on your wooden flooring. Your eyes met and their breathing simmered, equalising until they were completely calm. Hange drew out the remaining gasp as they caught their breath again. You didn't disorient them this time, you didn't want to.

"I'm afraid so, love, we're very real," "How did you do that?" Hange muttered, baffled by the manner in which you had ceased the onset of a panic attack, with just a glance. They blinked up at you, lashes fluttering behind a layer of thin glasses. Really, they are very pretty.

"Same way I got you to give me your badge and gun—the same way I got your ID and learned your name." "What? You can control minds, too?" "I guess, something like that."

Hange just nodded, you could see the literal cogs turning within their head. Their countenance switched from bewilderment to vague acceptance, then back to confusion. "Well, don't do it again—I don't like someone being in my head."

Your eyebrows tilted up with amusement, that wasn't a response you had anticipated. "That's very demanding, Hange." The detective gave you a look of shock.

"I just found out that va—vampires, exist, okay? Give me some slack." After a few seconds of self-deliberation, they spoke again, "Y-you said we? There's more?" Nodding, you answered, "You have to be turned, can't exactly get turned without somebody else," Hange's expression was undecided, "Think of it like a curse, a lifelong punishment."

Hange sensed resentment, there. An air of hopelessness. You don't even know why you're telling them all of this—maybe years of solitude left you lonely, craving a listening ear. Even if you do have to kill them by the end of it.

"Immortality? A curse?" Their eyes met yours again, searching within them for answers. They were intrigued, to say the least. I mean, years of multiple degrees and doctorates and Hange had been none the wiser to vampires? Of all things? You can't exactly blame them for needing more answers.

"Most of us didn't choose this for ourselves," sighing, you broke eye contact, "We just have to live with it, outliving all your loved ones—forced to drink or perish. Those are your only options." Hange sat absorbing your words, their entire world had been tilted upside down. Yet, they couldn't help but feel a little bad for you, for the subtle wave of melancholy in your tone. Hange didn't quite know what to make of this whole thing.

"So..you do need blood to live?" "I tried to live on animal blood, okay, but... it's not the same. It's like eating a bag of air—doesn't give me what I need." "Like eating junk food?" Hange questioned, "Instead of a real meal?"

The almost innocent comparison made you chuckle, a slight lift at the corner of your lips, "I suppose." Hange let out a gentle, huh, before looking back down. Could they really charge a supernatural being with a crime? But there were still victims, you still killed them, and that couldn't just be ignored.

Hange pulled at their restraints, neck turning to glance at your handiwork, it was impressive—pretty. They looked back towards you, "C-can you take these off?"

Your face hardened into a scowl, eyes narrowing. "I can't do that."

"You planning on keeping me here forever?" "Until I figure out what to do with you, yes." "I promise, I won't say anything."

"Please," you sneered, "Your promise will mean nothing the second I let you go." Hange sighed, "I mean it, you have my word." "That right, love? And what will you tell your fellow detectives?"

Hange blanched, "I-I don't know. We can close the case as cold—leave it as it is, as long as you don't drain anyone else." "I have to eat, Hange." "I know, which is why I won't say anything."

Your fingers came to rub at your forehead, "And how do you propose I eat, then?"

"Do you need to kill when you...feed?" "Not exactly—it's just easier so they don't go running and tell everyone. The compulsion doesn't work for an infinite amount of time—it runs out." Hange nodded, looking around the room in deep thought.

"Then, feed on me."

Shock choked your throat, what? You gaped at Hange from your chair, are they crazy? "You cannot be serious.." Hange shrugged, "It's a mutually beneficial agreement—I stay alive and learn all about this new world 'n you get to stay...well fed."

"And bodies stop dropping like flies.." Hange muttered, at a lower volume. You still caught it, of course. Were they proposing to self-sacrifice their own blood so no one else died? Hange almost laughed at your expression, wordless.

A human offering themselves up? You didn't ever think one would do that. It wasn't unheard of, other vampires had shared plenty of stories with you about their favourite humans—you had just decided, a long time ago, to maintain a healthy distance. However, the detective made an interesting offer and you're certain their blood would sate you for a while, with how loudly it's drumming against their neck. How divine would it taste? As enriching and decadent as you think?

"If it helps—I'm thinking of it as research," Hange explained, a crooked smile hanging on their lips, "All totally off the record—by the way."

Yeah, they definitely are crazy, you thought. Looking them over, in your years you had gotten pretty good at sniffing out lies, but there was thoroughly not a hint of it on Hange. No, it was even worse. That sincere excitement that fuelled their blood earlier had returned, replacing the previous fear. Groaning internally, you knew that they were offering a taste of what would probably be the most incredible bite of your life, right on a silver platter.

"My only rule is none of that creepy mind control shit—freaked me out."

With every new word out of their mouth, you grew additionally stunned. Never in your life had you expected this from a human. A crazy human, sure, but still? Hange seemed to have accepted the situation with basically abnormal ease and made their peace with the new information about the world. Almost lost their shit at the beginning, but you could sense their curiosity. It was outweighing their fear. By a long mile. Hell, they were even demanding shit from you—no one has even endeavoured to try that for decades.

Their blood thumped succulently, fear had long dissipated, replaced only by that delectable zeal. It was tough to decline their offer, honestly. Your mouth watered at the thought of tasting them, and you were hungry. The last time you fed was that fucker that got you caught.

Hange took notice of the darkening pools of black that endured over your eyes, hunger. Your tongue darted out to dampen your lip ever so slightly as you stared down at the tied-up detective in your bedroom. Hange should've perhaps felt more frightened than they were, but they couldn't lie and pretend that their intrigue was due to fear. Hange held eye contact firmly, almost challenging and prepared. You swear you could see a tinge of red splashed on their cheeks, with a glimmer in their eyes.

"I'll untie you," you hummed, "but if you make any quick movements, I catch even a hint of you thinking about bolting—you're dead." Hange shuddered, swallowing, you could see their veins throb before they nodded.

"I won't."

In a sudden flash, you were behind them, your cold hands meeting their warmer wrists as you delicately unlaced the silk scarves. Loosening them until Hange could have free movement. Hange gradually turned to face you, their hands rubbed at each wrist to soften the imprints of the restraints. Their breathing grew hefty, as they observed you, waiting. Tentatively, you reached to remove the silk still bunched around their jaw, before glancing into their eyes. Evaluating if they were going to try and make a run for it, but their scent filled your nose, eager and wanting. They were enjoying this. The realisation was dizzying—Hange was dizzying.

"You sure you want me to do this, love?"

Hange was feverishly warm, nodding, "As long as you don't drain me, yes." you hummed in response, desire fuelling your own keenness as you imagined their metallic taste.

"Where d'you want me to—" "Anywhere."

The corner of your lips quipped up, exposing the fangs protruding from your incisors as they grew longer with your increasing thirst. Hange felt themself shiver at the sight of longing glazed in your eyes. At the sharp points poking out from beneath your full top lip. Kinda sexy, Hange thought, wait wha—

Meanwhile, you were mulling. Blood from the wrist would suffice, it was tasty enough, but blood from the neck was much warmer, hotter, and more alive.

"Take off your coat 'n holster." Hange diligently followed your orders, discarding the heavy garment and unclipping the holster from their torso, throwing them down to the floor near the silk ties. You reached a hand out, inviting—an offer to guide them to a more comfortable place. Hange's hand met your own, a chill travelled down their spine as your colder fingers interlaced with theirs and you led them to your queen-sized bed.

You hadn't even used your powers, and yet they were still following you willingly, completely entranced of their own accord. You found that you liked it, found that it set your cold body alight, as it hadn't done for years. Hange sat at your bed, comfortably sandwiched between two pillows. Doe eyes watched you expectantly, the brown pools behind lenses tracking after your body as you charmingly placed yourself beside them. Thighs were touching against each other. This is kind of exciting, Hange thought.

"I've... been wanting to taste you all night," Hange let out a breathy gasp, the connotation of your words flustered them. The blush of their cheeks returning as you eyed them up, inching yourself closer to their slender neck. Fingers teased around Hange's knee.

"Could feel your blood flowing from across the street," you inhaled, a twinkle coming over your eyes, "just... irresistible."

Hange was lulled into a natural daze, the incitement of your words heating them up more than it should. Inching your head closer to their pulse point, your nose grazed over Hange's tender, shivering skin. The detective sighed, head lolling backwards a few angles to expose more of themself to you; allowing you more access. Hange's knee leaned itself into your palm.

"Wi-will it hurt?" "Not much, my love."

It's true, that after the sting of the initial punctures, fangs naturally seep the chemical Hange found, into their bloodstream. It was an evolutionary mechanism, developed to sedate, designed to be pleasurable. Hange was trembling beneath you, their hands squeezing together atop their thighs.

One of your hands reached out to unbutton the top four catches of their shirt, loosening the fabric around the collar to show their shoulders and collarbone. Looking down at their neck, you could see the raising bumps rising over their skin. You loosened up their tie, too, allowing it to dangle shamelessly over their bare throat.

Pressing your lips to peck at the skin, grazing right over the crook of their neck, you saw Hange swallow beside you. Their eyes fluttered shut, reeling in the sensation of the coldness of your satiny lips.

"Tell me when it's enough," you mumbled, in-between tender kisses, "just tap me and I'll stop."

Lost for words, Hange nodded, "Okay," their lips twitched at the feel of your own. Feeling the way your words blew against their skin, your hand raised from their thigh to grasp their waist. The other lifting to move Hange's hair out of the way. Your lips parted to sink your fangs into their olive skin. A hiss escaped from Hange at the initial sting. Eyes squeezed whilst their head fell back, and you grabbed the top of Hange's spine to provide support.

Their blood began to shed against your teeth, coating your tongue. "Ah—fuck." came from their wispy voice, followed by a lowered sigh, the chemical had kicked in. The pain subdued, easing off as their blood was drawn from your fangs. It was almost sensual, intimate.

A muffled groan reverberated from deep within your throat as you fed, their blood tasted even better than you could've ever imagined. Sweet and saccharine on your tongue. Their taste encompassed your senses, and your breathing heaved. Hange grasped the back of your neck and tightened their warm grip on you, drawing you closer to their own neck. Their lips split to release a sharp whimper whilst your teeth ravenously sunk deeper into the divine flesh.

Your senses were overloaded, Hange's fragrant elation candied their blood—so much different to how fear tasted. Amidst their elation and the overwhelming mouthful of blood, you could sense a dampness gathering within Hange's centre, leaking and sitting in between their legs—oh!

A rasped snarl evoked from your throat, and your fingers came to squeeze tighter into their midsection, just above their hip. Pulling your bodies tighter against one another, relishing and indulging your appetite in Hange's own depraved bliss.

Strength began to return to your limbs, enflaming your entire being as Hange's lithe body twitched and trembled. You were almost full, just a little longer. You'd have expected Hange to tap out by now; but the sporadic tremors of their thighs, the little jerks of their hips unveiled their lustful rapture.

"That feels—shit—f-fantastic," Hange whined, able to catch their voice to whine into the room's atmosphere, their speech soft and breathy. Lighter. You hummed into their neck, intoxicated and relishing in their divinity as you rid them of their blood. You rolled your tongue, lapping over the lacerated punctures. "Ah—" They keened, sinking themself further into your fangs, loving the sensation of the wet muscle passing against their skin. It felt like Hange had no intention of stopping you anytime soon, and if you continued you'd end up sucking them completely dry.

Removing your fangs from the indents in their neck, Hange grumbled beside you. With a closing swipe of your tongue over the fresh wound, you licked the remnants of blood sticking to their skin.

"Wait, wh-why'd you stop..." Hange was dazed, slowly blinking up at you with creeping disappointment, as they attempted to push your head back to where it was. "Love," you chuckled, licking the specks of blood caught in the corners of your mouth, "if I continued, you'd be dead—I've had my fill, thank you."

Hange definitely had not, though, a slight pout lifted their sweet lips. "You taste fucking delightful, thank you, dear." "But..." Hange firmly compressed their thighs together, desire sinking down their diaphragm from your pulling words as they were left with an uncomfortable dampness between their thighs, "..I.. enjoyed it."

"I'm sure you did, but I can't take anymore from you tonight." "I.." Hange's voice trailed off, unsure of whether they should continue speaking. "What is it, dear?"

Hange shied at the way you referred to them, words hesitant, "Can we... maybe, do this again?" "What, y'trying to make me a regular?" your words were teasing. Hange flushed, ears reddening as they fiddled with their dainty fingers. "I just thought that, maybe, this could be a permanent solution."

You studied them cautiously, understanding of what was truly going on here. Hange was hooked, and suddenly this had just gotten much messier than initially thought.

"How often do you...need to eat?" "Usually once a week, if it's good blood then longer—yours should keep me going for a good while."

You could smell Hange's rising disappointment, they nodded, "Oh."

"That's not a bad thing, you know?" you laughed, your posture relaxing as you nudged your shoulder into theirs, "Besides, y'need a few days to recover from the blood loss. So make sure you eat well, dear—get your strength back."

Hange looked up at you, the glasses placed on the aquiline bridge of their nose flashed with the reflections of the ambient lamps.

"That's... considerate of you," they whispered, taking in your words. "Well, I need to keep you healthy now, right?" "So that means, we can do it again?"

Their insistence was acutely endearing, you bit down a smile, "You keep your end of the deal, then I'll keep mine." Hange's lips twitched, stretching into a pleased grin, "I'll close the case as soon as I can—so no more bodies?" "No more bodies."

—

Truthfully, you'd been a little apprehensive to let Hange leave your house for work that following morning. (Yes, they did spend the night, you're not cruel—you couldn't let them pass out on the streets. That's all, nothing more.) A fiendish part of your paranoia was trying to persuade you that the detective had just put up a really convincing act, but you knew that didn't feel right. Humans couldn't hide sincerity like that with you in comparison to how they did with other humans. You could quite literally feel the lies, their quickening heart rates and body language gave them away all too easily.

Thinking back to that night, it felt like a little bit of a dreamy haze, you were surprised with yourself for even entertaining it for that long. Let alone allowing them to give you demands, none of that mind control shit—their words rang louder in your head as you chuckled to yourself. Catching a threatening smile forming against your cheeks as your thoughts fell back to the hopeful glimmer in their eyes as you agreed to feed on them again. Cute.

Excuse me, what the actual fuck? If you could glance in the mirror and actually see yourself, you'd have a stern one-on-one conversation with your own reflection. You'd say, just how the fuck could you let this happen! Should've just killed them and been done with it. But you just... couldn't. There was just something strangely charming about the detective. Intelligent and so, so cute.

That's without even thinking about how wonderfully delicious they were, offering themself to you as if they trusted you with their life. The way they squirmed beneath you, the little gasps that evaded Hange's throat as you drank. The throb between their thighs calling out for you to do something about it and... fuck, you were losing your train of thought.

This definitely isn't good, nor is it even wise. A deal with a human? Add that to your increasing list of recent mistakes. You can't just expect them to sell out their own species—but intuitively, you almost trusted Hange. Their personality felt too genuine, the blush on their cheeks when they got flustered and the pretty sounds they made as you fed, no one could just fake that, right?

Your phone buzzed as Hange's number popped through the notifications, they didn't let up on this that night. Went on a long ramble about how you should both be in contact so that dinner plans could be made effectively. They began a pattern of often texting you over the course of the week, clearly having a lot of questions about the nature of your 'curse', and it was a lot.

Hange tried to secretly code their questions to you in the form of pretending it was about a supernatural book series you were both discussing. Hange stated that you never know when phones and their messages are being tapped or logged; and that it was smart to use the book as a pretence, as if you were both just debating dorky questions within its universe context.

You didn't have the heart to tell them how painfully obvious they came across. Plus, although you thought of it as a little silly, you did periodically get gems like this:

hzoe: hey you think in that universe vampires can read minds? i feel like they could! you: No, probably not.

or:

hzoe: um how do u think they feel about period blood??? i mean what if they're just trying to go about their day and its that time of the month for a lot of people? how could they resist the urge to just stick a straw up there and go ham??

That particular one came in one day at eight in the damned morning, way too fucking early for that sort of question. Your reply never came for that one. Then there was your personal favourite:

hzoe: ya think they've ever gone down to the bottom of the ocean, just to see what's down there?

That one actually made you laugh, unfortunately. You decided that one day you'd actually try it—maybe relay your findings to your little scientist. Hange was clearly bursting out the seams with questions, and who better to ask than their friendly, local vampire? After a couple more days, Hange texted you again.

hzoe: hey, can we have dinner? (i'm not hungry, let's have dinner.)

The senses in your body ignited, thinking about the opportunity of being able to feed from Hange again. They'd been incredibly patient about it, albeit with a few questions regarding whether or not you were getting hungry. It was easily perceivable that they were getting more antsy, it seeped through the messages. And your filling from the last feed was wearing dry.

Hange was due to come down to your place after their shift—it's funny, they never were the type to leave work at the hour the shift ended. Always stayed behind, later than everyone else, focusing on research if there were no cases, which there barely ever were. So it's unusual to their colleagues that Hange is suddenly very eager to leave the workplace.

The detective hadn't shared the evidence they came across, true to their word, so the case had pretty much come to a standstill. People were obviously still confused, with so many unanswered questions and a recent lack of new bodies. Hange felt a little guilty for withholding information about the case from their longtime coworkers, but a deal is a deal. Hange considered themself a person of good faith, betraying your trust simply wasn't in the cards for them.

Hange was behaving normally around all of them, the only difference is that they were suddenly using their phone a lot more during breaks and actually leaving work at the time they were scheduled to. One of their coworkers pulled them to the side earlier in the day, a weird, little knowing glint plastered over his face as he interrogated Hange on if there was a new lady in their life.

Naturally, Hange got incredibly flustered, waving their hands in the air with attempts to refute the idea profusely; though the blush in their cheeks betrayed them. The coworker walked away laughing at them, shaking his head with a 'Sure,' clearly disbelieving of everything Hange tried to refuse. It was damning, for sure. However, Hange supposed it was better that they think this instead of the reality... so they just kind of let them believe it.

Meanwhile, you were feeling especially generous tonight, perhaps because of your own excitement or perhaps because Hange had stayed true to their deal for now. Either way, you decided to cook them a nice meal. It was mainly to ensure they had enough in their system to make up for the next loss of blood, at least that's what you told yourself.

The detective's car was heard before they were seen, you heard the drone of the engine come to a halt and a click of the lock. Hange knocked at your door, so you moved away from the oven top to let them in. Their intoxicating scent was back in your vicinity.

"Hey—wait, are you cooking?" Hange looked past you to the bubbling pot on the flame, "I thought you couldn't eat human food."

Suddenly, you felt sheepish, an unusual emotion for you, turning back to lean over the pot, "Uh, yeah I can't—it's for you." Hange's brows lifted, a quick look of surprise on their face before it switched to slight adoration. They nibbled on their lip, trying to ignore the squeeze that tightened around their chest at the sight of you cooking for them.

They had just finished up at work, and here you were cooking for them? The simple action felt so domestic, so marital, and you felt Hange's heartbeat hike up, thumping in your ears. "That's sweet, it smells great."

Shrugging, you turned back to face them, "I could hear your stomach rumbling from your car, I'm glad I decided to cook." You joked, trying to lighten the sudden severity of tension in your house.

"I did eat! I had a sandwich for lunch," you rolled your eyes. "That is definitely not enough if you're going to lose blood tonight,"

Hange reddened at your words, ashamed to admit they had been looking forward to this more than was probably necessary. Your voice broke them out of their thoughts, reminding them that food was ready and demanded that they sit down.

The detective removed their trench coat and holster, this time hanging it around the edge of your couch, before sitting down. The air was a little tense, filled with smokey anticipation as you loaded Hange's plate with your food.

"I didn't know you cooked," "I used to love cooking," you sighed, sitting parallel from Hange, with only a short cup of mellow whiskey on ice, "It's nice having a reason to do it again, even though I'm a little rusty now."

Hange watched you intently as you spoke, their thoughts haphazard and their hand grabbing a fork to load a bite into their mouth. The delightfully tender meat melted on their tongue, complimented by the combination of aromatics and spices you'd used to flavour the warm sauce.

"This doesn't taste like someone who's rusty—it's delicious." "I'm glad you think so,"

You sipped on your drink as Hange ate, feeling strangely proud that the food was being enjoyed. It was hard to ignore Hange's moans of food pleasure, rocking a little in their chair with contentment as they ate.

"Y'keep cooking for me like this and I'll have to marry you—" Your eyes lifted from your drink to Hange, who was sitting there with a bashful expression. "I didn—"

"No one ever cooked for you?" Changing the subject was a good idea, halt Hange's embarrassment and halt your own speeding heart. This was definitely not good.

"Not for a long time," It was slightly isolated being a chief detective. The social network ends up being the people on your squad or at the lab. Hange lived and breathed their work, relationships never at the forefront of their priorities. That, and the opportunity seldom showed itself.

Nodding, you brought the rim of the glass to your lips, letting the liquor slide into your mouth as Hange finished the meal, complimenting your efforts one last time. "You got a little..." you muttered, glancing at the smallest speck of sauce on the corner of Hange's lips. "Oh—" As Hange fumbled over themself to quickly fix it, you beat them to it. A calm hand reached over to swipe your thumb over their lower lip, effectively wiping the speck off.

Hange's chest rose and sank, frozen in place as your thumb remained hovering over their lip. Almost as if you were waiting for... oh. The pupils within Hange's eyes dilated, allowing the black of their eyes to expand as they split their lips to allow you entrance.

"Gotta have every last drop, right?" Your gentle words were like nectar, laced with a sweet insinuation and thick persuasion. The detective's plump lips pursed over your thumb, sucking the tiniest remnants of the sauce from your skin whilst oceans of black pools held your gaze. Hange's scent was coating the air, the excitement that returned to their blood was driving you out of decorum as it filled your senses.

Their tongue was lapping over your thumb, so obediently, until you popped it out from their mouth. Your lips tilted into a smirk as you took notice of Hange's disappointment. Thumb grazed over their bottom lip once more, smushing the plumpness around, wanting to tease the flustered detective for a little longer.

"Are you h-hungry?" Hange's twinkling, eager eyes pleaded, squirming around in their chair whilst your thumb pressed over their skin. "Starving."

Hange exhaled a heavy breath followed by them leaning closer into your space. "Can we go... into the bedroom?" Their gaze fell to your lips as your smile widened, "It—it's just more comfy." "Of course, dear."

The gulp that spanned down Hange's throat was unmissable, the spike in their heartbeat matched your own as you led them to your bedroom. It looked the same as it did last time, but the energy within it was entirely different, the kind of palpable charge that electrifies the air right before a storm. Closing the door, Hange seated themself on the edge of the bedcover, it was a kind of emerald velvet — affluent and plush. Most things in your house had a look of regalness. Hange's fingers skimmed over the lush fabric, a stim to release the tension building within their limbs.

Sitting across from them, you set a soothing hand on their knee. Hange looked more uneasy than last time, and you worried that they no longer wished to continue with it and just weren't stating so. "You don't have to do this... I can find another source." Hange instantly broke out of their trance, the lid over their eyes enlarging as they shook their head. "No! That's not.. what I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking, then?" "Would it be okay if..." the rest of the sentence retreated, Hange growing timid, "Could you kiss me? Before you do it?" It was hard to not be endeared by the detective, with shrinking words but insistent determination overpowering it.

"Want me to kiss you, dear?" Hange nodded, with a slight circumference of their lip drawn in by their teeth, their eyes trailing down to your silken mouth. Leaning your head closer to theirs, your vision flicked from their eyes to their parting lips. Your faces were centimetres away from each other, Hange's head at an incline to yours, endeavouring to haul you in.

Hange simmered with anticipation as you teasingly extended the process, inciting them with scorching greed. You wanted to draw this out—knowing that once you kissed Hange, both of you could sink into something deeply irreversible. So you waited, breathing Hange's sighs into your orbit as you observed the way impatience began to riddle their face. The subtle tweaks of their eyebrows as their half-lidded eyes lingered on your lips. Hange whimpered when you got a little closer, a slight graze of plumpness against their own led them to believe you'd finally attach, to no avail.

"Please."

Your lips curved upwards as you finally pressed them against Hange's, who felt such a beguiling relief at the connection. Your hands reached up to grasp Hange's jaw, pulling them closer. Hange sighed as your lips united. Softly and hesitant at first, a means for growing comfortability at Hange's request. Then it escalated, the scent of Hange's blood rose with ardour as the kiss intensified. Open mouths split to allow tongues to mix with the heat, wet muscles ravaged one another.

Hange gripped at your neck with a slight tightening of their digits on your skin. You felt yourself reel, their scent kindling carnal want within your stomach, rousing your ferocity. You liked kissing Hange, more than any other in the past, perhaps more than you should. Their little incensed groans that muffled against your lips spurred you to place your hands beneath their thighs, tugging Hange from their position and manoeuvring them between your pillows. Hange's thighs split to accept your placement in between.

The kiss was maddening, Hange's entire being was all-consuming. Lasciviously, your teeth clamped down on their bottom lip, erupting a hiss from Hange as you sucked the tiny beading of blood from their skin, you couldn't contain your keenness to taste Hange again.

Your lips separated as Hange's head nestled between the cushions. Their glasses were a little crooked on the bridge of their nose, dishevelled from when you cruised Hange to lie down, their lips plumpened and swollen from the ambush. With a chuckle, you fixed their glasses for them, straightening them into proper line— Hange was left with no option but to watch you do it as they replenished the air back in their lungs, a deep set in their lower belly as you gently fixed the placement of their glasses.

Lowering your head, your nose grazed up from their hollowed trachea to the space below their ear. Hange freely hung their head back, deliriously exposing their neck further to you. They were gifting you their skin as they waited for you to feed. You pressed a peck against the side of their neck to simply watch the shivers descend their body.

The buttons clasping the fabric of Hange's shirt were now undone, this time it wasn't just the top four buttons. You had every intention of keeping it that way, of leaving Hange with some remaining dignity but they just didn't want it. Their slender fingers unclasped the perilous buttons you had nobly ignored. The two separate sides of their office shirt now disconnected to present an indecent flash of Hange's tanned skin. A delectable contrast against the white shirt, the light in the room shadowed the contours of their sternum leading down to their navel. A little trail of hair guided your eyes down, just to be covered by the waistband of their pants.

You almost audibly groaned, feeling yourself debilitated by Hange's enticing snare. They were trying to lure you in, a tempting song ringing in your ears. The heaves within their chest are more captivating with the lack of any covering fabric, the stiffening of their nipples poked through the half-opened shirt. Hange's collarbone, sternum and tight stomach are all unrestricted, free for you to gaze upon and admire. Hange was simply ravishing.

Placing a hand below the loose fabric, you grasped their hipbone, squeezing once you heard Hange draw in a gasp at the coldness of your fingers against their enflamed being. As much as you tried to withhold yourself, and control your gluttony—Hange was making it exceedingly difficult. Your lips hovered over their neck, on the opposite side of where you punctured last time and licked up a stripe with your tongue. You weren't as gentle with it as last time. Spurred by Hange's sounds and their insistence on sinking you down with them. Hange shuddered underneath you, inclining their neck closer to your teeth as you pricked your fangs deep into their flesh.

The exquisite flavour of Hange's blood once more filled your mouth, coating your tongue. You hummed into their neck, fingers digging into their hip as you drank voraciously. Hushed moans escaped from Hange's lips as your fangs drew the very blood from their veins. Hange was a lot more vocal this time, whimpering at how fucking good it feels to have your fangs piercing their skin again. The slick pooling between their legs reaches your nose delightfully, and you can hear their pulsing clit. Dangerous words slip from Hange's mouth.

"Fuck—" Hange whispered with delirium, their voice was taut and airy as their hips writhed against your body, perfectly nestled between their thighs, "Wish you could do that forever,"

The depravity of Hange's words ensnared you, finding yourself losing your grip on reality. So do I, you thought. In a fit of lust, coaxed by Hange's intensity, your knee pressed itself against Hange's centre. At the wicked combination of your knee and the added exhilaration of your fangs buried deep within their skin; Hange let out a vulgar, insatiable moan. Their hands came to dig into your back as their mind whirled. Hange was in a stupor, clouded by their prurient desires. Obsessed, that's how they felt. Utterly addicted to you, and now that you'd kissed them? Now that your knee was bucking into their throbbing core? No chance. They wanted you to be theirs, they didn't care for the logistics of reality.

Hange had been pining hard over the last week, indulging themself in sordid thoughts of your fingers deep inside their walls. The images kept them up at night, flicking their index over their own clit as they imagined you snug in between their thighs. Hange was aching then just as they're aching now. They felt their head grow lighter with the loss of blood, it was spurring their wretched want for you as they ground their hips against your knee, panting with their head back.

You were in a similar way. Senses overly just full of Hange—their desire was radiating from their body and the copper taste of their blood was so intensely intoxicating. You knew you had to stop feeding soon, though, you'd been full a while ago, and Hange couldn't afford your licentious greed. You want this one around. Rather begrudgingly for both of you, you unhooked your fangs from Hange's throat, licking up the specked remnants splattered on their neck.

"Sublime, as always."

Hange whined as they recognised that it was over, lifting their head to meet eyes with you again. Hange lips stretched to grin up at you, beaming as their luscious left-over blood trickled down from your lips. Shame was way out of the window as they felt themself clench around nothing at the sight. Gathering a good dose of it on their fingers, Hange slipped their blood-covered fingers into your open mouth for you to appreciate. They couldn't help the deviant sounds they evoked, watching you happily lap up the maroon nectar drying on their svelte fingers with your eyes closed, groaning at their taste.

"Every last drop, right?" Hange mumbled, voice thick with wanton need. Their hips started winding against your knee again, causing fleeting bouts of tantalising euphoria to spread in their stomach. Grasping Hange's wrist tenderly, you pushed away their fingers from your mouth, tugging both wrists to a limp above their head. Gazing down at Hange as their lips split with each buck of your knee.

"If you keep looking at me like that, dear, I won't stop," you muttered, your free hand skimming over their stomach, twitching as you grazed past their abdomen and landed just above their waistband. Hange fidgeted beneath you, pulling your lower body tighter against their centre with their thighs.

"That sound good?" Hange nodded, "Please— it's all I've been t-thinking about..."

Loosening the buttons on their jeans, you pulled their clothing off. All that remained was the slutty white top baring Hange's torso and shoulders to you, the long sleeves ended up bunched around their elbows.

"What else have you been thinking about, huh?" Hange glanced up at their crossed wrists, propped up above their head still even though your hands had long stopped holding them. Obedient. "The silk ties.."

"What about them, sweetheart?" "I l-liked them on my skin," Hange sighed when they felt your fingers teasing their inner thighs, "I want you to tie my wrists with them, again, please."

A treacherous heat fevered down to your stomach, you swallowed an exhale. "Well," You grumbled, "How can I say no to that?"

You leaned over to grab the silk scarves from your dresser. Usually, you used them for your hair but this was a great alternative. Slipping the delicate silk around Hange's crossed wrists, you left their arms hanging above their head, tied and trapped.

Hange's arousal was thumping against your ears, increased with the new position. Sitting into a straddle over their pelvis, the slit of your long skirt exposed your lithe thighs as the fabric bunched around your waist. Hange's lensed eyes studied you, heavy and thick as they took in the newly bared skin that they now just couldn't touch. Your chest was close to theirs as you hovered your mouth above their lips.

"I—shit," "What is it, Hange, what else d'you want?" You placed your knee back in between their legs, your other leg was curved around their right, teasing their relief. "Can—can you just fuck me, please—" Hange was pleading, voice embarrassed and their lidded eyes dark. The closeness of your knee to their pulsing core was overbearing, just left in wait for some real touch.

Grazing your fingers down their exposed sternum, you provoked a little pressure with your nails. Light scratches rubbed against Hange's soft skin, leaving pinkish marks on their torso. Their stomach twitched and their pelvis rutted up at the action, causing the skin of your knee to bump against their bare slit. "Hnf—please, I—"

"Need you—so bad," Your hand travelled lower, ever so slow, tormenting. Fingers grazed over Hange's seeping clit, it was swollen and begging for touch. You groaned as you trialled a swipe with your index, feeling how arduously saturated Hange was for you.

"Got this wet just from me feeding on you?" you chuckled, enjoying the little twitches in Hange's facial expressions, "My god, love, you're fucking soaked."

"Pl-please—can't take it any more," "You don't even feel an ounce of shame, do you?" you began rubbing over their clenching, puffed clit, "No, you don't care how twisted this is." Hange whined, rippling their pelvis over your hand, their eyes closing as you finally soothed the fiendish craving.

"You just want some release, don't you, Hange?" Hange cried beneath you, their wrists weakly lowering ever so slightly to rest atop their head. Dousing your fingers over their leakage for less friction, you rolled pressure over their clit with your digits. You enjoyed seeing them like this.

Hange let out lecherous, unstable moans, relishing at the feel of your coldness massaging their swollen bud. Your words were driving them to a growing, rapid insanity. Hange startled when you effortlessly slid two fingers into their heat, curling them up to hit the back of their inner walls.

"Ah—fuck—yes, fuck—finally." Lowering yourself down to their pelvis, fingers ramming inside Hange as you rested your head on their spread thigh. Hange could just stare down at you, sat pretty between their legs with a damned smile on your lips as Hange was coming apart on your fingers.

"You look so p-pretty—like that," Hange mewled, your eyes sparkling as you saw their blissed disposition. "Yeah?" you bit the corner of your inner lip, before grazing your lips over their inner thigh, pecking, "This what you thought about?"

Hange nodded, exhaling deeply as they peeped the expansion of fangs from your teeth. The sharp incisors pulling across the sensitive skin of Hange's inner thigh. Their thigh twitched when you buried a light nip on their skin, a tiny bead of blood drawing out. Not enough to drain them, just a little drop, just a little extra taste. The tied-up wrists above Hange's head were trembling, losing control over their muscles as your tongue poked out to swipe up the small, maroon bead.

"Fuck—that's, hn, fuck." Your tongue left a viscous mark in its wake, you licked up Hange's thigh, leaving them twitching on your fingers. You prodded the squish of their walls, assailing a spot that had Hange shivering and mumbling out salacious cries.

Your mouth was so close to their pussy, Hange couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. Head leaning back into the pillows ruinously as your tongue tentatively swiped along the dewy sap coating their slit. Their blood tastes divine, but this was almost better. Their scent and taste crowded your senses, it was all Hange, dizzying you. Their hedonistic whimpers forced you to carnally crave more of them; the sweetest blood you had ever tasted and the most inviting pussy to ever grace your tongue.

Your muffled moans fell into Hange's core as you ate it, their hips quipped up desperately to feel your tongue, their oozing pussy clenching tight to burrow in your fingers. "So fucking tight, shit," you murmured. Hange's bound wrists and bent elbows were in tremors as they allowed you to have all of them, thighs spreading out further to trap you within.

"Shit—like that, fuck—unh—" Hange's debased vocals made you wayward, incensed to bring the cute detective to their last brink, all splayed underneath you. Your fingers worked steadfastly, kneading into Hange's welcoming heat with an unwavering rhythm. The tension in their abdomen tightened, it flexed and twitched with your movements as your tongue slowly ravished over Hange's swollen bud.

Your free hand slithered up to cup around Hange's breast, tracing around the stiffened nipple. Hange's back arched up to greet your hand and you spread the plush skin between your fingers. Minute grunts were stuck in Hange's throat whilst you tweaked the firm bundle, the nerves eliciting acute thrills down their spine.

"Feels, s'fucking good—shit, love seeing you there."

With half-lidded eyes, Hange stared down at you, gulping, when they witnessed how deeply enraptured you were in between them. Your jaw and mouth buried into their slit, your brows pinched as frenzied mumbles vibrated in your throat. Leftover streaks of blood drying on their thigh from the bite. It was sinful, how miserably turned on they were from it. By the sight of you working them with eager might, and Hange left unable to touch you, can't even squeeze on to the nice, velvet sheets as their peak builds up. Lifting your tongue from them briefly, you mutter to yourself, "Fucking delicious," before delving back in.

That was enough for Hange, "Fuck, 'm gonna fucki—hng, 'm so close—pleas- keep going," The overwhelming bliss of sensations and your carnal words caused the tension to tighten and tighten until their abdomen ruptured their orgasm with a voluptuous cry from their lips. Slight tremors and twitches in the detective's pelvis and legs as they ride their release on your diligent fingers and tongue. Their nails broke the skin of their hands, the only physical outlet to relieve their release within the silk confines on their wrists.

"Fuck..." Hange whispered, blissed out as their ears began to ring. You lifted your head from their legs, impishly checking on them as their chest heaved. Soaked fingers slid out, pulling a final pulsing clench from Hange's pussy.

You kneeled up, sitting on folded calves as Hange's chest attempted to relax into a normal breathing pattern. Reaching up to untie the knots in the silk scarf from around their numbed wrists, which then lowered to bring forth circulation again. Their head was sunken back in the pillows whilst their eyes were on you, suddenly sheepish.

"You okay?" you cautioned warily, grasping their wrist to soothe over the indented marks left over their arms. Hange gaped as you tenderly rubbed over the marks, in such a gentle manner. "Yeah—just a little out of it," Hange lightly huffed, eyes fixed as you continued to caress their tender skin.

You halted your movements on their wrists to request eye contact, a hand grasping Hange's soft jaw to allow them to look at you. Hange's breath hitched, their doe eyes reflecting an unreadable expression within. You smiled at them, rubbing a thumb over their jaw before you fixed their crooked glasses once more, setting them properly on Hange's nose bridge. The cherry on top was a little, light peck you rested on Hange's nose.

Hange felt their heart liquefy, a sturdy weight blossomed in their chest. They hadn't expected you to be so sweet and... loving? A bashful grin quipped on their lips, this was bad. Incredibly bad. Dangerous, in fact. The beating in their chest was thick with a longing admiration, a deep-set yearn burning in their rib cage.

Similarly, as loud as you felt Hange's heartbeat in your ears, it was rivalling your own. An invisible thread pulling you towards the detective as you felt the most apprehensive you'd felt in decades. Hange was giving you the look, their eyes blown out and sparkling, full of expectation and craving. You dreaded to think that yours matched it. They were looking at you like they were in love, and it was terrifying.

This time, your chest rose and sank. With a part of your lips, you sighed. Feeling your own chest betray the steely damn you'd built over the years, full of distance and hesitance. You failed to find the power to re-build it, not when Hange was looking at you like that.

"That... was really nice," Hange chuckled, an adoring glaze struck in the amber of their eyes. You hummed an agreement, securing the loosened strands of Hange's hair behind their ear. Hange was melting right in front of you, your stern boundaries had been long crossed. You didn't quite know what to do with it.

The slight incline of their jaw towards you indicated that they wanted to kiss you, to make a final connection of your lips. The look in their eyes was so sweet, awaiting you making a closer move. You found that you couldn't resist, the thread dragging you towards their lips as you melded them together.

Hange sighed into the kiss, their arms wrapping around your neck to lure you into their close proximity.    After a few seconds of longing connection, after a few swipes of tongue and saliva, Hange's hands travelled down. Lethally slipping their fingers underneath the slit of your skirt, and pulled your thighs apart.

"Hange—wait," you broke the kiss, "You don't owe me anything back, okay?" Hange laughed and shook their head, leaning down to press precarious pecks down the length of your throat, all while their hand inched higher up your silky thigh. "I know."

You had forgotten how much of a determined person Hange is. Truthfully, you were soaked. Had made a mess of your underwear long before you even touched Hange, before you'd even ruined them.

"I just... really want to touch you," Hange muttered, their tongue swiping down to the hollow of your throat. Your skin was set alight again, burning down your cold body as Hange timidly pushed their fingers past your underwear.

"C-can I?" They pleaded, eyes thick with lust, and you nodded.

The fabric shoved to the side to expose your own pulsing heat to Hange, swollen and aching since you first sunk your teeth into Hange. "I mean, shit—you're this wet and I can't touch you?" Hange grumbled, sinking back into delirium as three fingers slipped inside your dewy slit, "Fuck, you feel so nice on my fingers."

You nipped at the corner of your bottom lip, entranced by Hange's keenness. Slowly, you lifted the hem of your shirt, breasts hanging free against your chest. Hange gaped at the sight of you, the stiff peaks edging your breasts and goosebumps rising down your arms. "You're beautiful, fuck,"

"Hange—" you sighed, grabbing a hold of their shoulders when Hange placed your thighs over their hips. Your pelvis began to rock against their fingers, over their hips as they plunged into your walls.

"Fuck—deeper." you ordered, a whiny order but an order nonetheless. Hange loved having you like this, still telling them what to do even if they were the one fucking you.

"I'll do anything you want," Hange promised, their words leaving space for double meanings. It was making you dizzy, they were so eager to please you. All of their own accord.

Hange's dainty fingers pressed further up, curling inwards against your velvet walls, you were using their hand to sate your avid ardour. Losing yourself in the feel of their fingers working so desperately to make you cum.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart—fucking me like that," your tantalising words incentivised the detective with an impassioned thirst. Hange let out little gasps and moans as your pussy sucked their fingers in. Their eyes locked in on the licentious way their fingers were more slicked with your arousal each time they pulled out.

Hange glanced up at you, locking eyes for a moment to catch the minute twitches in your face, before they sunk their head down to wrap their warm mouth around your nipple. Their teeth grazed over the sensitive bud, then licked a few swipes over with their tongue.

"You're so good for me, Hange—fuck—so good, just for me," your voice was breathy, the length of Hange's fingers inside you caused spasms in your abdomen to rip through you. "'m so close, Han—harder-fuck—you're gonna make me come,"

Hange pleaded beneath you, humming with coarse devotion. Whispers of please come for me—need to see you come for me, slipping from their lips. If Hange was hooked, you were even worse off. The pretty detective making you lose any semblance of your own principles as you left yourself attach to them.

With a few more barrages of their fingers against your squishy spot, your hands tightened their grips on Hange's back as you spilled your release over their hand. The muscles in your abdomen convulsed, with a final gasp, you came hard, body trembling above Hange's hips as you slowed your movements against their wrists.

Hange slipped their fingers out of you when they saw your hips steadying. In a daze, you grabbed at their wrist, drawing their soaked fingers along their bottom lip. Hange whined, mouth opening to take them in, lapping up the sweetness of your release coating their  drenched digits.

"Every last drop, right?" you huffed, catching your breath and the look Hange gave you made you clench. A perverse profane glance into your eyes as they groaned, muffled by your fingers sitting on their tongue. Hange nodded pathetically in agreement against your hand, almost gagging on your fingers.

You knew you were done for. Hange had worked their way into deep your heart. An ever growing soft spot for the cute detective. Hange had already been aware they were caught in your trap a while ago, it just took you a little longer to catch up.

Neither of you knew what this meant, an uncertain future for both of you. But Hange knew this:

They'd rather have this be the one case they never solved, than ever turn you in.

—

well… here it is, if u spot any errors im sorry 😭

would love to hear ur guys’ feedback!! leaving a comment or any reblogs are greatly appreciated <3333

[brodygold]

Because He’s Hot

(All characters are 18+)

Jared was never one for sports. Or people in general for that matter. He was a shy introvert among shy introverts. Being gay made things even worse in his small, tight knit community. He was expected to look and act a certain way, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was a true outcast and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Being in his senior year of high school, he couldn’t wait to move away and never see anyone here again.

Sometimes though, life doesn’t give you what you want. As Jared sat outside at the bus stop on his way home, a stranger came up and sat down next to him. Grumbling to himself, Jared turned to look at him.

“Damn,” he thought. “He’s hot.”

The stranger was everything Jared liked in a guy: tall, athletic (if the shiny gold soccer jersey he had on meant anything), and had a great smile that could light up any room. His smile was so warm and welcoming, Jared almost forget he was going to tell the guy to leave him alone.

“Hey there. Name’s Brody. This bus heading to the soccer field?”

Jared gulped, not remembering how to form words for a second. He normally wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but thought he might as well answer him. Brody was hot after all.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It does.”

“Great. Thanks man. I was supposed to catch a ride with my teammates but had something come up. You going to the field for tryouts?”

Oh that’s right. Jared remembered the jocks at school mentioning something about that. How some group called the Golden Army was in town holding tryouts to get people to join. There was no way he’d be caught dead around that group though. Right?

“I’m good, thanks. It’s not really my scene.”

“That’s alright bro. What is your scene?”

Jared paused and looked away at that. Well he tried to at least. Brody’s perfect smile was still drawing him in. God, those lips looked so kissable.

“Don’t really have one…” he eventually squeaked out.

“Well, if you want to, we’d love to have you, bro. We could be your scene. You could be a real bro.”

The idea almost made Jared laugh. Him, a bro and a jock? Who knew this handsome man was also funny? Still, a thought creeped into his mind. If he tried out, he could avoid his annoying parents and see this stud even longer.

“Might as well. What do I have to lose?”

Brody clapped Jared on the back. Jared blushed at the contact. “That’s the spirit bro! I got the perfect thing for you actually.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a golden jersey, shimmering in the sunlight. He held it out to Jared, who took it in his hands. It was so soft, almost melting in his hands.

Was he really about to put on this jersey just because some guy told him to?

Yeah, because he’s hot, Jared thought as he put it on over his hoodie.

He felt a tingle as soon as he put it on. He didn’t notice how his hoodie and ripped jeans vanished and turned into a pair of black soccer shorts, leaving him slightly chilly in the crisp fall air. Nor did he notice his skinny arms and legs becoming filled with muscle or his chest becoming two pillow pecs. His shaggy hair become a perfect sporty cut, the color turning from blonde to brown.

He was too busy staring at Brody and his smile. He certainly didn’t notice Brody’s eyes glow bright gold, drawing him in even more.

Jared memories and mannerisms disappeared the more he stared. The quiet, nerdy, outcast of a guy turned into a true social butterfly, hanging out with his bros any chance he got, on or off the field. Even the name Jared felt like a distant memory, being replaced with Jackson, a perfect name for a hot jock.

Brody’s eyes finally stopped their golden glow, a knowing smile on his face.

“You ready for tryouts, Jackson?”

“Hell yeah, Captain bro! Let’s go!”

Jackson felt so pumped for tryouts and knew with Brody by his side, the two could accomplish anything.

Why? Because they’re hot!

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Three: Bleach

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Chapter 3: Bleach

Note: Hi! I love you all so much, thank you for reading and being absolutely wonderful. Here is Chapter Three, it covers the smau basically up until Rafe blocks Topper. Still no answers on that 💋

Warnings: none, not edited, angst, swearing, sadness, julio.

Word Count: 5,343

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

Chapter Three: Bleach

That didn’t go how he planned it. He hurt her inconceivable amounts and it’s not going to be easy to get her to forgive him. He needs to work for it, he knows that. Hearing her say that she meant nothing to him when she meant the world to him hurts more than he could have ever imagined. He’s so mad at himself for ever saying those same things to her. He doesn’t deserve her. He knows that too. He’s always been selfish when it comes to her though, he needs her back. He needs to figure out how to talk to her first. 

“Let me get this straight, you told her to listen to your album for what?”

“To understand what I’m feeling.”

“Rafe, the girl doesn’t need to understand what you’re feeling, she needs you to apologize to her.” His dad’s voice comes through the speaker. He was getting ready for bed when Ward called.

“The album is like an apology.” He tells his dad like it’s obvious. 

“Unless you have a song in that thing that says ‘Y/N I’m sorry,’ for 3 minutes straight, she’s not going to hear it as an apology. She’s going to take it as an excuse.”

“I’m just so ashamed, I don’t know how to approach it.” he stares at the phone screen, a picture of his dad and Wheezie stares back at him.

“I miss you, dad.”

“I miss you too, son. You’ll be home soon and we’ll go golfing, how about that?” Rafe smiles softly. 

His relationship with his dad hasn't always been this good. When he chose music over a ‘real’ career, his dad almost disowned him. Y/N had been the one to talk Ward out of it. Giving him a plan that if they didn’t make it in two years, she would drag him back by his ear and make him take over the company. They had to work their asses off but it happened, and Ward had accepted it. It had been a long road, they spent a lot of time not speaking to each other, communicating through Sarah. Ward hadn’t been to a single show before their first album was released. He remembers seeing Ward walk in next to Sarah and feeling his five-year-old self again, prepared to put on the best show for his dad to finally be proud of him. And he was, at the end of the night he hugged Rafe and told him everything he had ever wanted to hear from him. That he was proud of everything he had accomplished, that he was meant to perform, and that he loved him. 

And he owed it all to her. It always goes back to her. 

“That sounds great, Dad.”

“Have you talked to Sofia about this, you know girls, she might have some insight you don’t.”

“I don’t think Sofia’s up to giving me advice about Y/N.

“Rafe, this is only to get her back as your friend, correct? You and Sof are good?” Ward asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah, of course. Sof and I are great.” Denial. Always in denial, Rafe Cameron.

“Okay well, I wish you luck with all of that. Get some rest. I’ll be out in a couple of weeks.”

“Bye Dad, love you,” Ward tells him he loves him too and hangs up. 

+++

Kiara of all people tells her to listen to his album. As if everyone else who’s telling her isn’t enough.

“Hold on, I thought I got you in the divorce?” Kie laughs at her joke. 

“You did, but I think you should listen to what he has to say.”

“Kie, he hasn’t even apologized in person, why should I?” She’s playing with the thread that’s hanging off of the comforter. 

“Because he’s always been better at explaining himself in song.” She says matter of factly.

“This is unbelievable.” Kie groans on the other side of the phone.

“Look, he’s a piece of shit and he was horrible to you. I know that, but god can he write.”

“I know he can. I work with him.” 

“Y/N.”

“Kie.” She mocks 

“Just listen.” She’s shaking her head and rolling her eyes, glad that Kie can’t see her. 

“Okay, whatever, I don't want to talk about this anymore. What happened between you and jayj?”

“Ha! Nope.” She whines, wanting to know the drama between her two friends.

Sarah walks in with Penny in her arms. They had gone for a walk, Y/N citing vocal rest to skip going out in the rain.

“Vocal rest but you’re talking on the phone?” Sarah calls her out.

“My baby!” Sarah drops the small dog on the hotel bed, Penny running into Y/N’s arms.

“Thanks, Sarah.” She pouts at her. 

“So what are we talking about?”

“Trying to get Y/N to listen to ‘Angel.’” Kie’s voice cuts through the speaker.

“Absolutely no use. She won’t.” Sarah says. She nods along agreeing with Sarah. 

It’s not that she can’t listen to the album. She doesn’t want to. Why should she care about whatever he said in the album when he can’t tell her directly? The last time they talked he didn’t say sorry, albeit she didn’t let him say sorry with her whole speech she had been internalizing for three years. Even still, if he had just opened with ‘sorry’ she might have been more inclined to listen to his stupid album. She already knew it was about her, what more could she possibly learn?

So why can’t she get the thought of listening to it out of her head? She’s alone now, her dog next to her, sleeping tucked between her pillow and her neck. Sarah went back to her room a few hours ago and Y/N’s been trying to go to sleep to no avail. 

So she plays the stupid album that she told Rafe to shove up his ass. 

By the end of the album, she’s angry again. It’s great. Of course, it is. It’s him and he’s amazingly talented. Everything he touches turns to gold and she despises him for it. The chord progressions the tempos, the synths. Everything is amazing. Even the stupid lyrics that she wishes she could hate. How dare he be so talented and make her hate him just a fraction less?

The lyrics bother her. ‘I bought a house to live in but you’re the home I’m missin'?’ His fault. ‘I watched the weeks fly by, I’m not myself when you’re not there.’ His fault. Again. ‘I’m not a sentimental guy, I need you in my life.’ Well Rafe Cameron, why do you think she’s not in your life? It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that he completely obliterated her heart and is pretending that she just walked out on him.

Fuck you, Rafe. You don’t get to pretend.

+++

She hears Topper in the lobby of the hotel. He’s most likely the first one down here, waiting for the rest of them to wake up so they can take the car to the arena. 

She stands off to the side, their manager Ash, handing out their backstage badges. She sees Topper take two from Ash out of the corner of her eye. 

He extends the badge out to her for her to take and offers her a smile. 

“Thanks.” She tells him. 

“I know this is probably a long time coming and not the best place to have this conversation but I’m sorry.” She looks at him eyes wide, she tries to hide her shock, a small frown still visible on her face.

“Thanks.” She says again, not knowing how to respond to him. 

“I know I’ve been a shitty friend. I didn’t know how to act when everything went down. I knew about Sofia and I felt like I betrayed you. You were so hurt and I didn’t deserve your friendship. I let you isolate yourself and I’m sorry. I should have done better.”

She feels her eyes welling up. She won’t let herself cry. Not where anyone could see them.

“Yeah, you have been shitty.”

“Is it too late for you to forgive me?” She shakes her head, launching herself into his arms. Strangely it feels like coming home. She is finally hugging her best friend again. The guy who used to want to fight anyone who even looked at her wrong. 

“I missed you.” she breathes into his shoulder. 

“I missed you too, I’m sorry.” She lets go of him sniffling. She sees unshed tears in his eyes too. 

“It’s going to take some time for me to trust you, but I’ll work on it.”

“I will get on my knees, beg, and cry if you need me to.” She laughs

“I’ll let you know.”

As soon as the other two arrive, their badges are given to them and they all walk towards the car. She usually opts for sitting in the front ever since everything happened between them. She thinks that this time she can sit next to Topper. 

“Hey, Ash?” She calls for her manager's attention, “Mind if you sit in the front this time?” Ash looks at her surprised but nods her head anyway. 

“Of course, go.” She motions for Y/N to step into the car, Rafe and Barry look at her questioningly from the very back. She smiles at Topper and sits directly next to him, he offers her one of his airpods and she takes it. He’s listening to something she’s never heard and she doesn’t mind at all. For the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel like the loneliest person in the car. 

Rafe burns holes into the backs of both their heads. What the fuck is going on?

+++

“So are you going down there for your anniversary?” He hears Sarah ask. She and Y/N are getting their lunch. 

“Ya, it works out perfectly with the tour ending just in time,” Y/N responds, 

“So are you expecting a ring?” His ears perk up at the question, willing everyone around him to shut up so he can hear her answer clearly. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” Y/N has a teasing tone to her voice and he feels like throwing up. He gets up from the table where he’s eating with Barry and Topper. His fork clanged against the plate as he stood up and stormed off. He can’t eat with the bile already rising in his throat. What’s wrong with him?

+++

He notices as Topper and Y/N fool around during their private soundcheck. They’re playing off each other, Y/N messing with his guitar as he sings into her microphone. He notices that it’s a little awkward but it’s better than it has been in years. He gives Barry another questioning look and Barry just shrugs. He makes a note to ask Topper what happened. 

“I can’t hear myself in my left ear, I just hear Barry’s excessive screeching,” Y/N speaks into her microphone at one of the sound techs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry we can’t all be professionally trained singers, princess.” Y/N scoffs. 

“You’re in a band Barry, maybe learn how to sing.”

“Why are you being such a bitch right now?”

“Hey!” Topper yells turning towards Barry, “cut that shit out.” Barry makes a face at Topper but drops it. 

“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Rafe asks, done with waiting to ask Topper after soundcheck. 

“Just have her back, man.”

“Since when?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Since he apologized, maybe you should learn how to do that.” She purses her lips and instead of being annoyed, he can’t stop thinking about how cute she looks.

“I tried to apologize and all you did was yell at me for 10 minutes.”

“You didn’t try to apologize, Rafe! You tried to get me to listen to your album.”

“If you would have just heard me out.”

“What? I would know that you’re so apathetic it’s pathetic but you need me now? Or how about that you’re down on your hands and knees Beggin' me please, baby.”

“You listened.” He feels a sense of relief overtake him which is quickly washed away by her tone.

“Under duress.”

“What did you think?”

“I think it’s bold to sing songs about me when your girlfriend is ready to marry you.” He wants to deny that any of the songs are about her. It doesn’t work like that. Everyone knows. Instead of denying it or calling her conceited for thinking it’s about her, another question rises up and out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“Are you?”

“What?” She asks, confused. He wants to keep his mouth shut. Why does he need to know anything, why does he want to hurt his feelings so badly?

“Ready to marry him?” Oh, he’s so stupid.

“Yeah.” There is no hesitation in her answer and his heart breaks a little.

“Great.” He says shortly.

“Great.” She turns away from him and back to her microphone, talking to the tech until he gets the volume in her left ear right. He storms off the stage shoving his guitar into Topper’s chest, narrowly missing Topper’s guitar. 

+++

“What’s your problem?” They’re waiting to be called to the stage for their second soundcheck with the fans. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You have been insufferable all day, more than usual. I can usually ignore you, I’ve been doing it for a really long time but you’re all pouting and grumbling. What’s wrong with you?”

“How could you forgive Topper and not me?”

“I haven’t forgiven Topper, but he apologized for everything, it’s more than you have ever done.”

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out.

“Rafe. Stop.” She goes to walk away but he grabs her arm, stopping her. 

“What? You beg me to apologize and now you don’t want to hear it?”

“I didn’t want to beg you for it, I wanted you to apologize because it’s the right thing to do.”

“I know that I haven’t been a good friend to you. I’ve been so absent from our friendship. I let people get in the way of us and I self-sabotaged and pushed you away.”

“Rafe please.”

“I think that I pushed you away because I couldn’t be with you but I couldn’t be your friend.”

She holds her breath, waiting for what he says next. 

“I couldn’t be just your friend because I was in love with you.”

“And I’m stupid okay? I’m the biggest idiot in the entire world for saying the things that I said to you.” He pauses to gauge her reaction. She’s looking directly at him, her gaze not faltering.

“You were never just someone I fucked. You weren’t some girl or someone who didn’t mean anything to me. You are the girl, you mean everything to me. You always have. And I am sorry. I am so sorry that I ever said those things.”

“Why did you?”

“I was terrified. It’s an excuse I know. The way I treated you should have never happened but- I just- I was so scared to ruin our careers and take away what we had been working for since we were practically babies. The work that you put into the band and I was just being so careless with it, I could have ruined everything. I didn’t know how to deal with that and being in love with you and high all the time. I couldn’t do it.”

“You got clean right after.” 

“I knew that sabotaging us was the first step to me ruining everything else and I needed to make the sacrifice worth it so I got clean.”

“I’m a sacrifice. You sacrificed our friendship to keep the band but if you had just talked to me we could have decided together. We could have made something work.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” They hear the five-minute to curtain call announcement and Y/N sighs.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?” He asks her, hopeful.

“I don’t know. You hurt me more than anyone ever has.” She shrugs.

“fuck, b- Y/N I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.” She nods.

“I think I do. I need time. I need to get used to the idea of letting you back into my life before I do.”

“Okay, yeah. What can I do?” He feels hopeful for the first time since he started trying to get her to talk to him. 

“Just give me space for now. I’ll let you know.” She walks past him towards Topper. That’s a good start, he thinks. 

+++

“Baby!” She yells as she gets off stage, running into Julio’s arms. His flight had been delayed so she didn’t get to see him before the show. 

His arms wrap around her waist as he lifts her off the ground, spinning her around. 

“When did you get here?” She asks him, kissing his lips before he answers. 

“Just as you started the second song.” He pulls away to answer but buries his head in her neck, kissing her. 

“Thank you for coming. I missed you so much.” She tells him, still not letting go. 

“Always.” He pecks her lips again as the rest of the band comes up behind her. 

“Hey, guys.” Julio greets them the best he can with a Y/N-sized necklace still hanging off him. 

“Hey, man!” Topper taps him on the shoulder as he passes by him. Barry mumbles a ‘hey’ and Rafe just nods, his jaw tight. 

+++

Julio had only been here for one night and already he knew everything that Rafe had told Y/N, Which is how he found himself sitting alone with the man in the green room.

“Y/N told me what you told her last night.” He really doesn’t want to have to explain to Y/N why her boyfriend is on the floor bleeding but if he throws the first punch, Rafe is only defending himself. 

“Yeah?” He looks up from his phone and at Julio.

“Look, you hurt her. A lot. To the point where she thought she had no one because of you. She cried herself to sleep every day because of how alone she felt.” Rafe’s stomach churns at his words.

“I’m going to make it up to her.” He puts his phone down next to him. 

“And you better mean it. Don’t lead her on. Be honest with her. Do not hurt her again.” 

“I won’t.” He assures him.

“Good.” He thinks the conversation is over but Julio speaks up again.

“Rafe, I know how you feel about her. You need to back off. I love her. And she loves me. I will be here until she no longer wants me. Please don’t get in the way of that.”

“I’m engaged.”

“That doesn’t change the way you look at her. Your heart isn’t in it. Respect my relationship and I will respect you.” 

“You don’t have anything to worry about. I just want my friend back.” It’s not like she would take him back anyway. Even if he wanted to.

“Okay.” Cleo and Pope walk in to save him from the awkward silence. 

“I’m going to head out.” He picks up his phone and stands up from where he was sitting on the couch.

“Nice talking to you,” Julio calls.

“Yeah, you too.” He all but runs out of the room on a mission to find Sarah.

+++

Sarah Cameron is not one to spread rumours. She’s very much the type to wait for confirmation. She blames the circumstances and constant stress she’s under juggling her brother’s stupid feelings with Y/N’s and vice versa. 

There has been way too much talk about marriage, Sofia finally arrived and all she can talk about is wedding dresses and the caterer and the first dance and Sarah is exhausted. And of course, Rafe is panicking about things he really shouldn’t be worried about like ‘Oh is Y/N getting married? Sarah, she said that she was ready.’ and Y/N herself teased that she wanted the ring and she wouldn’t say no if Julio proposed. So what is Sarah supposed to think when she hears Y/N squeal from her dressing room as she screams “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you.” Sarah is tired. 

She should have known there wasn’t an actual proposal when it happened in the dressing room of all places. She knows Julio, he’s a romantic guy, thinking back on it, there’s no way he would have proposed like that. Again, Sarah’s tired and she’s not thinking and she needs to tell someone and the first person she sees. Barry. Bad idea. 

“Julio just proposed to Y/N and she said yes.” The information spills out of her mouth, it takes Barry a moment to process what she said but once he gets it he’s laughing. 

“Shit. That’s going to kill him.” Fuck. Rafe. She hadn’t even thought of her brother’s reaction. She wants to be the one to tell him but he’s out with his trainer. She has to make sure no one tells him before she does. 

“Topper!” She runs down the hall towards him.

“What’s up, why are you like sweating?” She waves him off.

“When does Rafe get back?”

“An hour still.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Y/N just got engaged and I need to be the one to break the news to him.” 

“Holy shit. Good for her. Where is she?” Sarah shakes her head at him. 

“That’s not the point, I need you to find out where Rafe is training so I can find him.”

“He’s probably running laps outside or at a nearby park.”

“Do you have his location?” 

“No, security list.”

“Oh my god! I hate that you’re all famous sometimes.” She says through gritted teeth. 

“I need to find John B. Make sure Rafe doesn’t find out!” She says running off down the hall again. 

“Find out what?” Sofia’s voice comes from behind him. 

“Jesus, Sofia, be louder next time.”

“Sorry. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. Y/N just got engaged and Sarah doesn’t want anyone to know yet.’

“Fun! Congratulations to them, that’s so exciting!” He sees her pull out her phone and walk in the direction of the busses.

“See you, Top!”

“On the bus?” He asks her. 

“Yeah.” She gives him a toothy grin. 

Shit. Topper thinks. She’s going to tell Rafe. 

+++

Kyle had just made him run way too much. Keeping up his stamina was important to perform every night. This time though Kyle really wanted to kill him. 

“You hate me, man.” He says opening up his phone. Kyle laughs. 

“You did great.” He tells him as they start their walk back to the arena. 

He has a few notifications from Instagram from friends back home sending him reels and Wheezie tagging him in stories. He swipes out of Instagram and goes on to his Twitter quickly checking to see if the lineup for the show had started already, trying to see which way they took back to the arena without being seen. 

Something catches his eye as he scrolls past it, he scrolls back up trying to find the pink icon. 

‘@KSUpdates: 💍💍💍’ He reads through the other tweets wondering what that’s all about, were they promoting something he forgot about? He keeps scrolling until he sees someone say that Y/N’s engaged. He stops where he is, Kyle looking at him questioningly. 

“You okay?” His head is spinning, his heart is racing faster than when he was working out, and he feels like throwing up. No, he’s not okay. 

“I need to go.” He starts booking it to the arena, Kyle trailing behind him. 

He has three unanswered texts from Sarah, a call from Topper, and one from Kelce by the time he makes it back to the arena. He says bye to Kyle and rushes to the bathroom. He’s going to throw up, he feels lightheaded. 

He didn’t realize how not okay he was with losing her forever right until this moment. He couldn’t face it for the longest time. He loves Sofia. He does. She has been important to him, his growth, and his life, she’s been an amazing partner. But that’s all she’s been. A friend. Because he couldn’t give her his heart. Not when Y/N was out there already walking around with it. She had never given it back. She owned it, owned him. He knew that now. With every fibre in his being, he knew that he was still in love with her. And she was marrying someone else. He was losing her. 

His breathing feels laboured. He feels the room continue spinning, he slides down the bathroom wall trying to keep the panic attack at bay. How could he be so stupid? How could it take him so long to realize that he couldn’t live without her no matter how hard he tried? It would always be her. 

He hears his phone ringing again but ignores it. He needs to get his breathing under control before he can talk to anyone. They can’t know he’s losing it. 

He needs to do something. He needs to get his shit under control and talk to Y/N. He hasn’t had a panic attack in so long. He’s not used to dealing with it. He needs to find Barry first. 

+++

She’s in one of her moods again, every time Julio leaves she gets sad and it takes her a day or two to get back into the swing of things. It’s been a week since she had asked Rafe for space. She thinks that she’ll be able to work towards forgiving him or at least putting the past behind her. After talking to Cleo, Sarah, and Julio, they had all given her the same advice. Do what she believes is the best next step for her. 

She notices Sarah hovering over Rafe like a mother hen, checking in on him, asking him if he’s okay every two seconds. She doesn’t know what happened but Topper had told her he went missing for the entire day until their show. And she’s pretty sure he showed up high. She’s scared for him. He’s been clean for so long that getting into drugs again now could shock his system. He’s not her responsibility anymore but she cares if he lives or dies. 

That same day that Rafe went missing, everyone was congratulating her for being engaged. The updates account had hinted at her being engaged too, she doesn’t know where they got that information, she not only had to tweet, she had to tell the entire team that no, she was not engaged. 

It had been a stupid misunderstanding that Sarah had apologized for a significant amount. Cleo had asked Julio how he would propose so Julio had set the scene for her and gotten down on one knee and Y/N had played along. Stupid and dumb. 

She’s reading a contract for a new magazine shoot she’s doing when Rafe comes up to her. 

“Hey.” He seems anxious. He can’t seem to stand still and his hair’s a mess.

“Hi, you good?” She asks him. 

“No.” She gives him her full attention now. Wondering what he’s about to say to her. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m selfish.” She doesn’t like the tone he says it in. Like he knows he’s about to tell her something he shouldn’t.

“Whatever you’re about to say don’t.” She goes back to her contract, staring at it blankly.

“When I thought you were engaged-”

“Rafe. Enough.”

“I had never felt so heartbroken in my life.” She’s shaking her head at him, trying to get him to stop.

“And I thought, I have to stop this now. I have to do whatever I can to stop it before it goes too far and I have to ruin your wedding. Because I would. Because I’m selfish.” She doesn’t know what to say to that so she says the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s too late.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” There’s desperation in his voice, his eyes glassy.

“You’re engaged!” She yells, getting up and in his face.

“No, I love you.”

“I love Julio.”

“I love you.”

“Stop!” She turns her back to him and tries to find her breath.

“None of that changes how I feel. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to figure myself out.” She feels him behind her, looming over her shoulder.

“Why are you telling me any of this?”

“I can’t lose you. And that’s what’s happening because I’m an idiot. But I can’t lose you and I’m going to fight for you.” She turns around to face him, taking a step back, creating distance between them.

“There’s no fighting for me. We’re done. We’ve been over for so long. For three years I only spoke to you on stage or in interviews! There’s no us.”

“Tell me you don’t love me.”

“Rafe.” Her voice is firm but he doesn’t care.

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone and you won’t ever have to see me again.”

“Not possible. The band.” She doesn’t know why she needs to make sure the band is safe in this moment, so much has happened between them to keep it alive, it can’t be at risk now.

“Outside of that then. Tell me.” She stays quiet, shaking her head once more.

“Please.” She snaps.

“I was in love with you for years! Since I was 13 years old you have lit up my goddamn world and when you finally gave me that chance, when you started looking at me like we could be something you ripped it all away. You hurt me so much and now? Now is when you want to come back and tell me everything I’ve been hoping for for years. Now when you’re getting married and I’m in a happy relationship?” She finishes, her chest heaving anger leaving her body in droves.

“You’re not in a happy relationship.”

“Rafe.” Her tone is warning him to not continue.

“Come on!  He doesn’t understand you the way I do! Doesn’t understand the life we live, and the sacrifices we have made to be where we are. He’s not good enough for you.”

“And you are?” 

“No.” She throws her hands up, “but, I understand you. I know who you are at your core, baby.” 

“Stop.” She’s sure she’s shooting daggers at him now.

“Why?”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“No, why are you with him?” He’s close to her again, she can feel his breath hitting her face.

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I love him!” Rafe’s face falls. She exhales. “I love him.”

“No, you don’t.” She stays quiet. 

“You can’t.” He backs up a little, his head shaking, eyes sad.

“Rafe,” she says softly, stepping closer to him. She reaches out but pulls her arm away quickly.

“It’s too late.” She repeats her words from earlier.

“But I love you.” She doesn’t want to hurt him but she knows she has to put an end to this.

“I don’t love you.”

“I’m so stupid. Oh my god, how did I ever let you go? I’m an idiot th-“ she cuts him off putting a hand on his arm.

“Hey hey, stop. It’s okay. We’ll get through this.”

“How?” Tears are threatening to spill over now. His eyes are red. She doesn’t know if it’s from holding back tears or from smoking.

“By being friends.” His blue eyes pierce into hers.

“I’ll try.”

“Okay.” There are a lot of things left unsaid between them. She hugs him for the first time in years and he puts his face in the crook of her neck. She feels him crying. His tears soaking her neck.

“I love you.” She does too. Not in the way that he wants. Not anymore.

“I know.”

[dyns33]

The Best Friend part 2

Yes I made a lil 3 parts series for Homelander and his bestie.

If Y/N had to give John one good point, it was that he had been honest.

He could have said nothing, and she probably would have never known.

But at the same time, he wasn't completely stupid, and it wasn't a good idea to keep secrets like that.

Because he himself didn't like being lied to, promising that it would never happen between them, but also that he was giving Firecracker power over him, who could have threatened to tell her everything if he didn't do what she wanted.

Maybe she was blinded by admiration at the moment, claiming that she was at his beck and call and that she wouldn't ask for anything in return, but John knew people. He couldn't trust her.

"I'm not attracted to her at all, I told her that."

"… That reassures and consoles me enormously, John."

"Look, I understand that you're angry. But it was just once, just once ! A moment of weakness. I was exhausted, a lot of things had happened, you weren't there…"

"So it's my fault ?"

"No." He growled before sighing, trying to keep his cool. "I didn't say that. She was very persuasive. How does she know that I… Anyway, it was a mistake. I can fire her, she's no use to me. That idiot is loyal, I can ask her anything I want, but one word from you and she's gone. I can even kill her if you ask."

A lot of people wouldn't know how to react in this situation.

Normally it wasn't a good idea to upset the Homelander. You had to agree with him, not cry, not yell, not talk back. It was already an accomplishment that he admitted he had made a mistake.

Maybe he hadn't apologized, but Y/N was probably smart enough to know that he was sorry and that she should forgive him.

Anyone else would have eventually said sorry, taking the blame on them and making excuses for his cheating.

But besides the fact that she had been his only friend during his childhood, John loved Y/N because she wasn't afraid of him. And that meant she wasn't going to give in when he had hurt her.

"Your solution to a problem always has to be murder. Really, John, we're not eight years old anymore."

"Exactly, that's why we're talking like two adults."

"I'm waiting."

"What ?"

"For you to act like an adult."

Then John chuckled. He put on his eternal air of a guilty child who pretended not to understand what he had done wrong, disturbed that someone dared to corner him in this way, him, the great Homelander.

But seeing that Y/N was staring at him without saying anything, waiting, he quickly regained his seriousness, hiding his embarrassment behind a mask of annoyance.

"I just told you that I wouldn't do it again. She doesn't attract me at all, she's pathetic. I only love you. I've only ever loved you, since forever. The others were nothing, distractions, puppets. You're the only one who really knew me, who made me happy."

"I'm waiting."

"You don't want me to cut her in two, and I can't go back in time by flying around the Earth in the opposite direction of rotation contrary to what some idiots think, I don't see what I can do."

"Apologize."

"… Sorry." he mumbled, looking down, showing a pout.

"No. Better than that, John. Give me your most sincere apologies."

At this point, someone else would already be dead, or at least facing a furious and threatening supe, ready to use his lasers to silence her.

But Y/N was really not just anyone. Realizing that she would not change her mind, John mumbled, hands on his hips, before displaying his fake stage smile.

"I'm so sorry."

"I'm still waiting."

"… I should never have done that, it was pathetic of me. I love you more than anything and I shouldn't take it for granted, you deserve to be treated with respect. Forgive me."

"Hmm. Almost but not yet." she decided, holding back a smile.

She was still angry, but Y/N was ready to forgive him. After all these years, she knew how John was. She knew he would never have said the word "sorry" if he didn't mean it, and he wouldn't have confessed anything if he didn't really care about her.

But the moment was tasty and she wanted to make the most of it, so that he would learn his lesson well.

"What ? You want me to get on my knees ?"

"That would be a good start."

"… Fine."

Y/N had said that as a joke. In truth, she didn't really know what she was waiting for, only that she wanted it to last a little longer. It was impossible to tell whether or not she liked seeing John at her feet, staring at her with fear.

"I'm sorry. Don't leave me."

"Oh, John…"

"I know I can be difficult. You're always good and patient with me, even though I don't deserve it at all. I love you. If you left me, I would die, truly. The day they took you from me, I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn't breathe. I would destroy everything if you disappeared again."

It wasn't exactly a reassuring statement. It could even have been taken as blackmail or a threat. But John would never hurt Y/N, she knew that.

He would kill everyone else, leaving only them, but he would tear off an arm rather than hurt her.

Tenderly, she stroked his hair, then his cheek, before leaning in to kiss him.

"I forgive you, John."

"Hmm."

"I love you too, I'm not going to leave you."

"Thanks."

"Get up now."

"Hmm. I don't know, I like the view." he said with a small smile. She followed his gaze, still leaning over, understanding that this way he had a full view of her chest and crotch.

The small pat he took on your head made him snicker, as did Y/N's falsely outraged look.

"I know another way to make it up to you."

"It wouldn't really be a punishment."

"I'll just be a little sad if I can't find any milk. But we could also do something to change that."

"Why are you never serious ?" she sighed, rolling her eyes.

The apology ended like that, because she received a call that caught her full attention. Y/N didn't look at John either, who never left her, dangerously serious, and fixed on her stomach.