#i slept so good yesterday & my body hurts less now !! i had decided to step away for a bit on writing and gather my thoughts

[hanrinz]

little update about myself <33

[mywritingonlyfans]

Angst fic with Damiano David

prompt: a angsty about reader being sad (dami bff) 'cause damiano doesn't feel the same way romantically. ps. there's a lot of victoria de angelis being a angel in this fic, and it's basically about reader going through it.

warnings: none? it's just a bit sad and longer than usual.

 All the soft touches still tingled all over your body. His scent was until now stuck to you, you never thought you’d feel happy to have woody essence along with cigarette smoke on you. 

 Folding the sleeve of his sweater, you put your tea in one of the cups you always use when you were there. His cotton piece was comfortable, making you didn't regret wearing it in the morning; it was cold and wearing your tank top from the night before didn't feel right. The shorts from yesterday, that were making your legs freeze were enough trouble for you to handle. The remnants of your clothes and belongings were collected from the floor of his room and placed carefully on his headboard, you made sure you were being quiet. Damiano has always been a heavy sleeper, but your counscious prevented you from risking disturbing him when he looks so peaceful. You had already spent much time at his place so you memorized where every thing in his kitchen - and others rooms - was; baking eggs and making tea wasn’t a mystery for you. You had even separated a Tylenol tablet for Damiano, so he could have it with his tea when he woke up with a wicked hangover. He wasn't the type to get drunk and forget what he did, nor were you. Since when you were teenagers, you have gone out and been drunk together a lot of times, and although your feelings were already present, nothing never happened. This time, however, alcohol helped injecting a dose of courage on him. Being honest with yourself, you didn't remember who started it; but the kiss in the midst of the loud music, his hand on the back of your neck, the exchanging glances while dancing and the moment he took you home, they were pretty vividly in your mind. You still felt relaxed, as if his sweaty body was still over yours. Minutes with your eyes closed was enough to feel his eyes roaming your body all over again.

“Hi,” he said in a slurred voice, cutting off your line of thoughts. You jumped, briefly scared but soon turned your attention to reality; a tired Damiano scratching his eyes in front of you.

He was dressed, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, duly comfortable according to the weather. 

 “Headache?” You knew he was. He was always a good drinker, he put up with it a lot, but he was never one to get rid of the effects of alcohol on the next day. You, on the other hand, got on better with this issue; fortunately from the night before, only the good moments remained with you.

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “What a night, I’d say.” He added, in a lower tone. What was acceptable, you also felt a bit weird to be in front of him.

“I got you some pills,” you pointed it out to him on the counter, trying to maintain a normal behavior; with no shacking voice or sweaty hands. Quite impossible. “I made tea too.”

“Dear God, you’re a life saver!” He smiled at you, eyes crinkled and all of his perfect teeth on display. Contagious.

You grinned, feeling your body getting lighter. “No worries. I’m glad to help.”

“Y’know, when I woke up and saw that you weren't there I thought you were gone. You know? Friendship destroyed and that whole thing. I’m happy to see you; relieved.” He took a sip of his tea, and maybe a bit of your heart with it. You were an explosion of feeling when it comes to him, you always have been. “That sweater looks good on you, you can keep it if you want. You know that’s my fave one.” And, yeah, you knew.

The tension on you was no longer intense, comforting you to let out the breath you were holding. “It’s good to hear that,” Your genuine smile managed to say many things, you wished Damiano had noticed you earlier on other occasions. “Do you remember that one time, when we were younger, that you were a bit crazy about a girl; Alice was his name.” You stopped; in need of air - nervous - and watched Dami's attentive face. “She was the first person to whom you dedicated a song, you played it to her at school break. The cutest thing I had ever seen. I think it was there that I realized, a little jealous—“

“Y/N,” his voice had been almost inaudible, causing no effect. Had he really tried?

“How in love I was with you.”

His face was paler than usual, he was paralyzed; speechless. You had never seen Damiano like this, the men was always all over the place in a sweet talkative mess.

It took a few minutes for you to be able to read his expressions and realize how fucked up you were. The dose of happiness in your blood had been able to manipulate you to believe in what you most wanted to happen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” your blood had gone up to your ears, all you could pay attention to was the pressure in your head. How had you thought that after one specific night he would suddenly decide that he was in love with you? After all of this time that you were just a good friend for him? “I’m truly sorry but I’m don’t—“

“Feel the same way?” You finished. He nodded, apprehensively. You have never felt so stupid. It was a mixture of shame, fear and insecurity. You were unable to look directly at him, you knew that there was no change in following a friendship after what you just said, much less after the night before. You had never been so screwed.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said a thing.” You whispered, realizing that the lump in your throat had turned into tears that you didn't even know were running down your face.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, walking towards your emotionless frame. You allowed yourself to melt in his grip. 

 Your tears fell freely; you could even try to hold it back but there was no strength left for you to think about it. Your crying was silent, as was the kitchen room. Your head was full of questions and cursing at yourself. Suddenly you wished Damiano had yelled at you, asked you to get out of there or said he wouldn't never speak to you again. It seemed easier to deal with it in this alternative way than to have him comforting you for loving him. “Shh, it’ll alright. I could never be mad at you.”

He talked about your friendship, but you knew that nothing would end up well. Maybe for him. But for you? It’d not be that easy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have known better, you were so loving with me last night that I thought— Fuck, we slept together. Which I know isn’t your fault because I don’t even remember who—“

“Stop, Y/N. Look at me,” He was being careful. You were making a person like Damiano calculate his words, that made you feel like pure shit. You stopped talking, looking at him was still difficult. He understood that you wouldn’t be doing so. “That’s fine. I don’t feel bad about you liking me in that way, you’re wonderful. I don't regret anything, last night was great, but I just... don't feel the same. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I can't even imagine how hard it’s being for you right now.” His words sounded sweet and sincere. He had tears in his eyes as well. His ability to be so empathetic to everyone was something you loved the most about him. He was probably killing himself on the inside for breaking you.

You nodded, leaning on the counter. You wanted to ask him if he remembered that he was your first kiss at the age of seven or all the times he sent you vinyl records with some message - that he had written himself - inside the cover. How did he not feel the same, shouldn't you be everything he wanted?

“Dami?” You sighed. Your eyes were red, your face probably swollen. You then looked straight at him; that surprisingly wasn’t much better than you. “Have you ever looked at me and seen me in another way? Something more than just your best friend?”

He didn’t say a thing, just look at you standing there. You get it.

“I think I should go,” You broke the silence that had been formed. You thought about taking his sweater off, but since you weren't wearing anything underneath, you thought it was better not; you’d have to go to his room to change, and then pick up your things only to delay your leaving.

“I can drive you home,” he said in a hush, looking for his car keys.

“It’s okay, a walk will be fine.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, I can't let you walk over there like that.”

You ignored what he said, walking around the house to the front exit. He tried to grab your arm just for you to step back.

“I know you're just trying to help, but I need to be alone right now, without you near me.” You tried to say it in the most normal way possible, you didn't want to be mean, you only wanted to be fair to yourself.

“Sure.” It was the last thing you heard him say before you left, feeling the cold wind on your body. You didn't know if he had entered his house again or if he was watching you hug yourself as walking slowly to somewhere. You wouldn't dare to look back.

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

“C’mon girl, get up here,” Upon hearing the husky, strong voice, you were relieved. 

 Victoria wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry and looked like she had just been woken up by force. You weren’t as close to her as you were with the other boys, however, you had never been so happy to see her.

You got in her car. “Thank you,”

“God, you look terrible. You’re fine?” You looked at your reflection in the rearview mirror and well, fine was definitely something you didn't look like.

“Dami asked you to come and get me?” Your throat was scratching, it was difficult to speak.

“Yeah,” she looked at you quickly, but due to your discomfort she backed off. More tears would come. “He didn't say why though, he just said he needed someone to come to you before you froze to death.” She said it in a way that made you laugh, even with your eyes filled with tears. “Did the two of you have a disagreement? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to.”

“Something similar.” You said shakily; due to your crying and chilly. Inside the car was heated, but your body was so cold that it didn't seem to be enough. You tried to snuggle in the passenger seat, letting your head rest against the window like in a sad film. Maybe that’d help.

“Here,” she handed you a coat, without hesitation you took it. “I brought it to you in case you needed it.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Victoria,”

“You can call me Vic, just like everyone else,” she laughed.

You gave her a half smile. “Okay then, thank you very much, Vic,”

The rest of the day would be crying while you curled up in your bed, you’d let yourself feel at your worst; promising that you would try and change that the next day.

———----------------------------------------------

You expected the first few days to be the hardest, but it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Damiano had tried to call you a few times and in all of them you responded dryly, using short words, pretending it’d be okay. You truly tried, but you needed time to process what happened. You told him that, and then time he gave you.

After completing a month of the incident, you noticed how 'dependent' you had become on him. He was always around since you were kids, any problem you had you would look for him to talk to, now you felt like you had nothing. Your friends were friends of his, too, more of his friends than yours. You missed having Thomas failing on teaching you how to play guitar on your couch and besides you thought about calling him - just to distract yourself - you remembered that he was more a friend of Damiano than yours. It’d be weird. None of them contacted you at that time, not even Thomas. You couldn't figure it out if Dami had told them what happened and they decided to give you space or if they just didn't care about you when you wasn’t around Damiano.

Basically, where Dami was you would be and vice versa. It had always been like that.

When you saw that just time wasn’t solving anything, you programmed yourself to live in a way that you were busy all the time. Your routine became work, home and most of the time taking the work to be done also in your home. You didn't feel energized to make new friends, and going out on dates could help momentarily but it wouldn't be fair to go out with someone in the ‘mood’ you were in; then these ideas were soon discarded. Sleeping was impossible, you spent hours rolling over in bed; both for the flashbacks that plagued your mind, but also for the fact that you missed him. The nights were worse when you visit your mother or when she called and said, "Dami never came to see me again." or something like. “Are you still talking to each other? We don't let someone like Damiano leave our lives.”

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could be in love with him forever and that no matter how much it hurt at that moment it would pass. You started to repeat it to yourself as much as you could, so when the boys got in touch with you again you didn't hesitate to answer. Nothing bad would happen, you just need to pretend to be fine. The first to send you a message was Thomas, with simple questions, he acted like nothing had happened, you liked it. Even though it was obvious that Thomas, as one of his boys, would know this in more detail than you did (which was a lie, but at least he knew how Damiano was feeling about it, which you wouldn't know). He updated you about Dami, who was great as always, and you said you were doing well when he asked. You answering him made Ethan talk to you too, although they were all polite and delicate, they seemed more to be sorry than to miss you. Pity wasn’t something you were expecting.

After five months, you still felt like crap. You had tried to stop counting the days that had passed since you last saw Damiano, but it was almost impossible. You could still remember that night vividly, but you were still trying your best to move on; leave it behind. Mysteriously, you wanted to see him, see how he was doing and find out if he had anything else to say but you were afraid to see him, go back to your place as his best friend just to realize that your feelings for him had not abated at all.

“...I haven't seen you in a while. I wonder if you're alright,” you heard when answering your phone. Your head hurt, your eyes stung. You had slept on spreadsheets that you brought home from your work.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shit,” she murmured.

You looked at the phone screen. “Sorry Vic, I just woke up I'm still trying to copy.” You laughed to calm her down.

“I thought I didn't have my number,” her voice became softer, as if she was relieved that you had saved it. “I didn't want to wake you up, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to know how you‘re doing, since I used to see you almost every day, y’know?”

You thought about saying that you saved her number the day Dami called to pick him up at a bar since his phone battery was dead and he was in no condition to drive, but Victoria clearly knew that. “Is Dami with you?”

“No,” her tone matched yours; Dami had told her, now she was being careful with her words. “I saved your number the day Dami needed to call you, in case I needed to call you again.”

“That’s alright, thanks for checking on me then.”

“But he would love to talk to you. He always asks the boys about you or comments on you so that someone can bring you up to the convo. He seems a bit lost when you not ‘round to be honest.”

Somehow hearing that made you happy. Still, the image of discomfort whenever you thought of talking to him scared you. The phone line was filled with silence, until Victoria's husky voice filled the line.

“Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about Damiano. We finally finished the album and decided to have a small celebration at my house,” you giggle at the formality. “We thought you should go, since you were present in more than half of the process. I‘d like you to come. We’d all like you to come.”

———

Your heart accelerated with each step you took as you entered Victoria's house. The rooms had a glow of being calm and the music that was playing helped to make the place cozy. The instrumental of the band reminded you of Fleetwood Mac, and for the little that you knew Vic you would say that the type of sound reminded you of her. 

 Her house wasn’t crowded, there were only a few people around; some you’ve seen before, some you haven’t. You thundered your fingers over some vinyl that were arranged in a corner, pretending to read them. You were looking for familiar faces, honestly even for Damiano, but for some unknown reason you didn't want to make that obvious. Your eyes captured Thomas talking to some girls, and soon you felt relieved to be dressed according to the occasion; or at least according to the girls who were close to Thomas. It didn't take long until he noticed you standing there, you waved and he came to you. He looked surprised, still he didn't wait for you to say anything else, just wrapped you in his arms so tight you had to ask him to let go in between muffled laughter.

“Vic working miracles! Come, I'll take you to the others.” He said in his cute form, holding your hand as guiding you through the house. “So, how's our best girl?”

Your lips parted in a smile. “I’m alright, pretty much the same to be honest,” there was no time for him to ask another question because you soon spotted Ethan and Victoria with their beers in hands. They seemed to be shocked to see you as well; and it was starting to irritate you for reasons you couldn't explain. Thomas put you behind him, hiding you from the two of them as if they hadn't seen you already. He was being such a sweetheart that he had even managed to soften the anxious butterflies in your stomach; but not enough to keep your mind free of worries and Damiano David. Thomas made a funny noise with his hands as Ethan ignored his attempt to be amusing, pulling you into a hug. Who would have thought you would have missed them so much.

“How long without seeing you, I force you not to do that again. Without you we are just another disorganized mess.” You laughed at his nonsense. Your smile was sincere, like it hadn't been for months, still you were forcing yourself a bit more to appear to be actually 'fine'. You’d like to know if they noticed, even though you were appreciating that they didn’t.

“No worries, I‘m not planning on leaving you guys alone.”

 Ethan and Thomas started to discuss about something, Ethan was already under the effect of alcohol, and from time to time they asked for your opinion on how Victoria had been strangely quiet. Atypical of her, but she didn't seem to be out of place or uncomfortable, just quiet.

“Did a cat eat the tongue of my newest attractive friend?”

“Not this time,” she showed you her tongue, and then smirked. Her eyes shone in differently way under your gaze and her make up was making her look more mature. “Are you feelin’ good? Thank you for coming.” Victoria was happy to see you, you could feel that. She might be curious, but pity wasn’t something possible to see in her; different from the other boys. “You must be tired of hearing that question, I'm sorry. It‘ll no longer be asked.”

Her voice was soft, comfortable to hear. “I appreciate that. I really have heard a lot of that, but despite everything, I feel good ‘bout bein’ here.”

“I feel even happier that you came then,” she put her hand gently on your waist. The other two didn't even remember you and Vic were there. “Let's get you something to drink, we bought that red drink Damiano always says you love.”

“No way, it’s bishop cocktail?” You looked at her, a big grin on your face, even though you remembered that this was the drink you were drinking when the universe decided it would be a good idea for you and Dami to have a one-night stand. Just a lovely reminder. “Have you mixed everything up? like the rum with the red wine? or with red drink you just want to say you bought wine?” You asked, ignoring your internal conflicts. Everything would be fine, you ket repeating to yourself.

“In fact, I remember once hearing you comment you didn't mind it being mixed up in a random bottle.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of a bucket full of ice and you couldn't believe she remembered that; given that you could count on your fingers the times that you had actually spoken to her. You didn’t avoid each other, just didn’t have much of the opportunities.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ lovely.” You whispered. She was quick to pick up a glass and hand it to you, filling it with the so well remembered liquid. You took a sip, and the taste - or alcohol - made your butterflies calmer. “Thanks for that, tastes like heaven.” She took a glass for herself, by her expression she thought it was a waste of rum. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“If you think so, who am I to deny.”

“Don’t be a bummer,” you bumped your shoulder with hers, eliciting a cute sound from her that made you laugh as well.

You wish that sensation had lasted longer, even so when a random girl approached you to ask something, you felt heavy; like a sign. Her hair was golden in perfect waves and her face was angelic in an almost divine way. You might have been overreacting, but she was the type to catch all the attention to herself.

“You’re Y/N, right? I was startin’ to think that I’d never get to know you.” She hugged you tight and you wondered if she really didn't know you. When she released you, you felt your heart breaking right there in front of her. She was wearing Dami's sweater; the same one from that night, the same one that you wore. You wanted to be wrong, but you’d know that sweater from a distance even after years. “He talks so much about you. Can you believe we never met?” She asked, alternating her gaze between you and Victoria. She had been silent, you had forgotten that she was still there. Your head was miles away in thoughts, making you dizzy.

“Hi, Bella,” Victoria said. You remembered that name. Damiano talked about her on a few occasions, anyways he didn't seem to be in love - or you just didn’t want to see that. Maybe you haven’t been able to read him due to your stupid passion. “How’s everything?”

She started talking to Victoria and you couldn't concentrate on listening; all the alcohol in the world would not ease what you were feeling. How long have they been together? What was so special about her that Damiano gives her his favorite sweater? Were they together when you slept together? How did she end up with the same sweater you slept in that day?

She held the cup that was in your hands and handed it to Victoria. “Are you okay, hon’? You look a lil’ unwell. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No need, I’m alright,” she patted your arm, and then checked your temperature. She was being nice, yet you couldn't pretend to be interested in being there anymore.

Thankfully, Victoria put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you want to join her to have a smoke. “It’ll be good, fresh air will do good to you.”

You agreed. Bella was worried and you felt bad about having to run away from her. She looked like an incredible person, sure Damiano was lucky to have her, that was just too much for you.

“Do this, you will feel better. We can talk later and so you can tell me everything about you and Dami, I’d love to hear you, since you’ve known each other for so long.” You looked for some irony in her voice, but you didn't found it. She was interested in you; after all, you were her boyfriend's best friend. It made sense.

Victoria guided you to the balcony, or at least halfway to it. Midway, someone stopped to talk to her, she tried to dismiss the person, however, as it was a thing related to the album, she would have no way out. “Victoria, it’s fine, I need some time alone.” You whispered to her, patting on her arm. She looked at you reluctantly, but understand. There wouldn't be much she could do for you.

Entering the balcony you felt an absurd urge to cry, your eyes itched and your legs were trembling. Was being in love meant to hurt this much, or was it just a game of chance?

You tried to take a deep breath, ease your heartbeats, telling yourself it was okay. You just needed to calm down. You leaned your body against the wall and watched the place. The plants near the fence - which you didn't know how Victoria had time to take care of them - the streets, and then the sky. Starry and moist, made for good memories that wouldn't come to you. When you felt ready enough to go out and face the party again, you ran into the one you were trying to avoid, Dami. Minutes ago you were anxious with the possibility to see him to know how he was, now you just wanted to run away and wipe these last months out of your mind.

“Y/N,” his body collided with yours while his arms wrapped around you, it was supposed to be a good thing, that you‘d feel safe as the same way you used to feel, except that was uncomfortable now. You couldn't even respond to his hug, for a second you thought you would escape without having to see him. He noticed and gave you space. “I swore that you wouldn't come. My god, it's so good to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and you remained paralyzed in front of him.

You tried to focus on your breathing so that your voice came out without too many complications. “Yeah... It's good to see you, you look great.” It didn't work, your voice was shaky making your lie sound even worse. He looks great, you didn't lie, he seemed even happier and well rested. You wondered if it was because the album was ready or because now he had Bella.

You forced a smile, but unlike the others, Damiano knew you were acting. He didn’t judge or question, his face became tense, apprehensive. He knew that nothing was right.

“I thought about callin’ you more, goin’ to see you or something. The boys convinced me that it‘d be better not, that it could be even hard for you. I wonder if I shouldn't have done something different to help you because I know I fucked up too.” His hands were undecided between running through his hair and staying inside his pockets. He was nervous, at the same relieved to have spoken to you.

“It wasn't your fault, I’d never blame you for that,” you sighed, smiling slightly. It felt terrible to make him feel that way about it, but there wasn't much you could do. “I'm glad you gave me space when I asked, it's still hard to see you or think about talkin’ to you. It is as if everything that is tormenting me comes all at once.” It was good to say that to him. He nodded and you looked at each other for a while. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

He was a few feet away from you while you were admiring the night, with your back against the wall. You wanted to leave, maybe go cry in your bed until you fell asleep, still you wanted things to work out with Dami, you wanted that tension and fear of seeing him to get out of your head. Despite that, if it was necessary to suffer in that process, it would not be worth it.

“She’s amazing,” it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “Bella’s amazing, lucky girl.” You smiled sadly. Saying her name and seeing Dami smiling at that made you thank God for not seeing the two of them together, hugging or kissing. He‘d probably put his hand on her waist while she was talking to one of his friends or giving lightly kisses to her temple, just because he felt like it. Damiano was the cute type, you've seen it before.

“She is, an amazing person. She was all happy to have spoken to you. I told her all about our teenage years and how you always supported the band,” He had told her about you, would he have told her about you being in love with him? You thought to ask, soon giving up. It’d be shameful if so. “If I knew you would be here I’d not have come with her.” It made you think that he had told her.

“What would you do? Would you hide me from her for the rest of your life?” You sighed. it was supposed to sound like a joke, regrettably your voice sounded too cruel for that.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to think of you and—“

“I think I need to go Dami, it’s being too much. I’m sorry.” You needed to get out of there, you couldn't stop the tears anymore and you knew it was a bad idea to talk about her with him.

You took a few steps back just for Damiano to grab at your arm, without putting strength, just like a few months ago, to stop you in front of him. You turned your face away from looking at his eyes, feeling as the tears run down your cheek. You'd never be able to face him, this situation was only proving that to you even more.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what I need to do. I will do anything for you to talk to me again. I need you, you know that. The past few weeks have been a mess without you around. Even little my mom misses you. I’d do anything to have you back like before.” He was about to cry, his eyes shone with tears and it was painful to watch. He could do anything for you to stay; except what would make you stay. Unfortunately, it didn't depend only on his good will.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you said in a lack of air, signaling the space around you with your finger. “But this, this is too much. It kills me to have to be close to you or to be close to things or people that remind me of you, seeing someone else with you doesn't help at all. I still think about the fact that we slept together... I can’t just forget it ‘cause it meant so much to me and to you, to you? it was nothing.” You were out of breath, you just wanted to cry in peace, put everything out until there was nothing left. 

 He released his hands of you, his face red and damp. It wasn't going to be easy for either of you. Time wouldn't matter; it wouldn’t change a thing because whenever you looked at him you’d wonder about how things could have been like if he had chosen you.

He whispered one more time that he was sorry, then let you go. He could have stopped you, but it's not like he knew what to do anymore. 

He watched as you walk out without even looking back.

——-

You went through the party walking fast, avoiding acquaintances and questions about why you were like that. Your body was heavy as well as your conscience. Outside the house the street was empty, the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and along with the silence of the street you felt invited to sit there. You brought your knees close to your body, trying to breathe calmly. Pulling the air in, and then releasing it in a normal way. Your heart was beating so fast that your whole body was agitated. You tried to stay still. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy when you saw someone walk out the front door of the house. You dropped your knees, trying to look decent, but gave up as soon as the person came closer to you and you saw that it was Victoria. She sat next to you, pulling you into a hug. You were happy that she went to you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, hugging her waist and hiding your face in the fabric of her shirt.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re far from being fine, I won’t judge you sweetheart,” she comforted you, giving you a extra squeezing. You were far from being alright, but it helped, having someone there helped.

She placed her chin on top of your head, soothing you until your crying softened. She rubbed your back and whispered that it’d be okay.

“Did Damiano send you here?”

“No, darlin’. He said that you had talked, and then you had to leave, he didn't look well, I thought you wouldn't be either.”

“And then you decided to look out for me?” You laughed, still tucked in her warm arms.

“Yep, sounds like you need me, don’t you think?” She laughed too, causing the vibration of her chest next to yours make you feel taken in.

“Why’s love so painful?”

Victoria didn't answer, she was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then she stood up, holding out her hand for you.

“What?”

“I won’t be taking no as an answer, you’ll get in the car with me and we will do something, anything, drink milk shakes, fill up our bellies with pizza ‘til we can't take it anymore, or even rob a bank.” She held you by the waist, lifting you up for her. “Please,”

You didn't see why not to accept. There was nothing worse that could get even worse at the moment, maybe going somewhere would do you good. “Even rob a bank?” She nodded, pointing to where her car was.

A smile spreading across her lovely face as you realized you’d go anywhere she wanted with her. “Yes, even robbing a bank.”

[haphazardlyparked]

the war AU

@gingerly-writing originally i started this as a response to your captured solider/person-enemy general thing  but then it just turned into a whole bunch of self-indulgence sooooo 

(i'm a softie at heart??)

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

"Masara," a voice hissed in her ear, and Masara came back to her senses, only to swallow back a groan. Her whole body was an ache that burned at the edges, part magical exhaustion and part old-fashioned beating.

"Arlis," Masara murmured back, trying not to move. Trying to catalogue her hurts before she tested them, trying to remember what had happened. She did not say, You young fool.

Masara's heart––already burning her chest with grief and war––had leapt into her throat and turned to fear when she'd seen Arlis emerge from the tunnel pass, adept enough with the spells that she could open the hidden routes on her own. Masara's young, foolish squire, who had followed her because she thought her knight-mistress had gone off to do something brave, when all Masara was was reckless, desperate––and desperately hopeful.

Panam as heir was safe, the king was on his way to the Yina stronghold, and Fathmir, who had been at the holy mountain's summit since the new moon, could be made High Priest soon. The heart of Amir would be preserved, even though Amirasa had fallen. Even though things might had been different, before the assassination and the war.

Masara knew her part now. She was the most experienced knight traveling with her uncle––fleeing, navigating the twisting paths and hidden tunnels that wound through the foothills of the Endless Ridge. The king had to make it to the safety of Mount Yina, and that was worth Masara's life.

In some small measure, Amir would survive, watchful and isolated while her southern lands became a battlefield between two imperial powers. Ancient Lapur to the southwest, hemmed in by the Blasted Plains, and Kas to the northeast, a young and eager threat.

Masara had dreamed of her kingdom’s waning. She had felt the shadow of death hanging over her head since Panam had brought news of the High Priest's assassination.

When she had volunteered to lead the pursuers away from the king's trail as he and a fragment of his court ran for holy Yina, the king had faced her as her father wold have––grieved, yet proud. But he had faced her as her king, too, grimly resigned to her sacrifice.

"You might have been one of our greatest queens, if my sister and I chose differently," he had whispered.

Masara could scarcely meet her uncle's eyes.

"I dreamed a fire would burn away my future, during my rites,” she confessed. One did not usually speak of the visions, if there were any, but Masara thought she could ease her uncle’s conscience. “When Panam came with word of my father's death... I already knew how this could end. This is my decision, Uncle."

"May the Lady Sascrin guard your path, Masara," the king said.

The knight knelt, and kissed her uncle's hand, and when she rose––when the king drew her to her feet to hug her one last time, the farewell embrace she never had from her father––she smiled.

"It will be your job to look after Arlis now,” she said when they pulled away from each other. She stepped back.

Arlis was a jealous squire, and would likely be furious when she realized Masara had ridden to battle without her. Later, she would come to understand that she was too young for this.

And then the little fool had burst from one of the rocky passages, into the pitched skirmish while Masara charged a company with a twilit illusion, riding alongside moonbeams, and dropped the bridge to cut off pursuit of the king’s path.

She thought the destroyed bridge would been a good place to die, right up until she saw Arlis and realized with a ringing clarity, Not now. Her squire needed her.

Masara's vision filled with molten silver, magic in her hands and spitting down the length of her blade, and Arlis flickered across the field in her mind's eye, a star to be guarded. When they reached each other—the knight a blur of spell and steel, her squire a smaller whirlwind no less fierce for her youth, and Kassan footmen with their blue-rimmed shields and clumsy swords—Arlis screamed, and Masara's world exploded.

In the tent, when she opened her eyes, the physical ache seemed to coalesce in her chest as she put everything back together again.

There was her beloved, fool squire whom Masara would protect with her last breath; and beyond that, all the things that threatened her.

Masara and Arlis were tied side by side to foldable campaign chairs, which was quite civilized, all things considered. She could see spells crawling on the walls of the tent, and smelled the distinctive sting of burning a sharp, distinctive incense. Natural inhibitors of magic.

"Do you know where we are?" Masara spoke. Her voice was cracked and barely audible; her throat dry as dust. Unlike Arlis, she was tied to her chair by only one arm, because the other was broken. She woke with it cradled against her chest in a sling.

"I'm sorry, sir, I––” Arlis began urgently, quick and breathless, all the words she'd been thinking while Masara was unconscious now tumbling out. Masara let her relieve herself. "I shouldn't have followed, and then I ruined your plan and you went down––and I panicked. I surrendered. I thought they were going to kill you!”

“You did as you should have done, Arlis," Masara assured her squire when she fell silent. “I am grateful to be alive."

It was true. Masara had made her peace with her sacrifice, but she hadn't wanted to die. If she could live––and she had somehow, for Arlis or thanks to her––she would. (She wondered if this meant her vision was wrong; or if there was another fire threatening her horizons.)

"But Masara," Arlis mumbled. “You weren’t about to surrender.”

“That only means you have proven yourself wiser than me.”

“But... I told them who you are.”

Masara considered her broken arm––splinted and bandaged, carefully tended to like the rest of her battered body, and found Arlis's confession did not surprise her.

"And yourself, too?" Masara asked.

"Yes."

"Good," Masara said firmly. "We are alive now, and I will not see you die, Arlis."

Her squire knew enough to hear the grim promise.

"Sir," she acknowledged. "I don't think they'll hurt me. They think I'm a child––a poor, misguided girl-child who accidentally maimed some soldiers..." Arlis indulged in a little complaining, and when Masara recalled her visit to the Kassan court years ago, she decided Arlis was probably justified. And yet, they still burned the incense; they still spelled the tent. They were cautious.

"They were horrified when they realized you were a woman, and that was before I explained you are a high lady," Arlis continued. "After that, they bundled us up and had a surgeon come; you were stabbed through the shoulder, by the way. I tried to do what I could, on the road yesterday. They put us in a wagon and set a guard. They don't think very highly of me, and didn’t notice I what I was doing."

Masara considered that, and realized that was why that whole upper side of her hurt, not just the broken arm.

"Thank you, Arlis," she sighed. "It's called battlefield healing for a reason, and you've always been one of the best. I am fortunate." It really wasn't much more than cleansing wounds and dulling pain, but it was more than nothing.

Arlis grinned. "Am I better than Guira?"

Masara ignored the question, as she always did. She smiled, and then her lip split. Grimacing––carefully––she asked, “How long was I out?”

“The rest of the evening and all of yesterday. We stopped last night, and I slept, so it may be morning again,” Arlis reported. “You destroyed the footbridge we used, and that was the only easy path for a large party, so they've had to retreat back out of the foothills. They didn't stop until they were out, which was late last night."

Masara was shocked to hear she had been unconscious for so long--but something in the back of her head disagreed, remembered a dream, perhaps. Later. She said instead, "These are Sascrin's foothills; outlanders think they are cursed. Even I only turned back to make very, very certain they would too."

Some things were too important to leave to should and probably; the king had understood that when Masara proposed remaining behind to guard their rear.

Arlis didn't ask her what the plan was now. She didn't ask what it had been, either.

Trust, or insight? Masara thought it was the former, and she tried to turn her worry into resolve. Her uncle had depended on her before; now Arlis did.

"Has anyone spoken to you?"

"Only a captain," Arlis reported. “He said their general could decide what to do with nobility."

"And have you seen a mage?"

"No. But I do think there's one around. The tent could've been prepared, but the incense smells... intent."

Masara tilted her head––carefully, to avoid tugging at any other injuries she wasn't fully aware of––and smiled lopsided at Arlis, trying to avoid the split. "Very good," she said, winced, and licked at the cut. "I thought you might notice that; that's the scent of the mage's spell. Now, what other kinds of magic inhibitors are they using?”

"Sir," Arlis protested, half-indignant, but she was looking at the canvas around them. She knew better than to try and fuss more over Masara's wounds; she'd already done what she could. It was nothing she would not recover from, she decided––given a chance to recover, of course.

"We're currently bound to chairs in a spelled tent, Arlis," Masara said. "We might as well have a brief lesson."

Masara heard rather than saw Arlis's roll of the eyes. She could never keep from that airy, "As you say, sir."

But Masara saw how she relaxed a little, easing back into her seat and straining  less at her bonds.

"Let's begin with the standard suppression spells," Masara went on. "One of the nice thing about them is that they're always visible, as it's active magic, and look––these weavers didn't even try for subtlety. Tell me which ones you know already."

Arlis and Masara discussing the fire protection spell woven into the seams of the tent, where the different cuts of fabric had been sewn together, and how they served to isolate each separate piece of fabric, when they were interrupted.

"It looks newly done," Masara murmured. "And it looks northern too, not like a spell that's been fully assimilated." That was the thing about magic. There were always spells and brews you could learn, but they worked best when you had truly made it yours, or if it was yours.

Masara often wished the fireless explosions Arlis was so fond of hadn't been her obvious calling.

"How can you––" Arlis began, but then the tent flap opened and a man stuck his head in.

He came all the way in when he saw Masara was awake, daylight flashing through the opening, and stood before them.

"Good," he observed after an assessing gaze. "Surgeon said if you were out the whole two days, we might have problems."

He wasn't a very tall man, but he was broad-shouldered and confident, a soldier in a blue cloak. He had the olive skin and dark hair of some of the Kassan, though with clearer, lighter eyes that spoke of some northern heritage. Or magic and vanity.

The soldier crossed his arms and frowned when Masara said nothing. It took Masara a moment to realize he had been expecting her to speak––he had asked no question. She instead had been looking to Arlis, to see if her squire recognized the soldier, but a twitch of Arlis's fingers said, he's new, and Masara wondered again where they were. The tent also kept them from hearing just what kind of camp lay outside. Masara would bet it was far larger than the one company that braved the foothills and her attack, if the general was said to be coming.

"Are you injured?" the soldier demanded, eyes narrowing.

Masara smiled––carefully, lopsided.

"I believe so," she answered.

The soldier's frown didn't change. "Well enough to speak the general now, I see."

"Lead on!" Arlis challenged boldly, unwilling to be overlooked and left behind. Masara didn't bother to check her.

"Oh no," the soldier corrected with a grim smile. "Do you think we're letting you out of this nice tent? The general's on his way here. You should be honored. Him coming to you." The soldier sounded disgruntled enough by the necessary breach of etiquette that not even Arlis commented.

They didn't have to wait long. The soldier left the tent after another moment of silence––did he think either Masara or Aris would say something, unprompted?––and then the flap opened again, and he returned. This time, he was followed by a younger man, another soldier, alert and brisk. He'd become very tan under the Amirran sun, his hair burnished to a golden blond currently bare of a crown, but Masara was surprised to recognize the general.

Arlis shifted by her side, suspicious. The general regarded the both of them in silence, his pale brown eyes almost dark in the tent's dim light.

"Leave it open, Kinlo," the general––if that was how he chose to style himself––said, and Kinlo, the first soldier, went to pull back the opening. Clear morning light spilled inside, silhouetting the general, and from his slight smirk, he knew its effect. "They won't run."

Masara quite honestly didn't feel up to a break for freedom, so he was right, which was mildly irritating. The smoke of the incense kept her weak, as though she hadn't slept or rested in days.

"We're in the middle of my camp. Surrounded by thousands of men," the general explained reasonably. One couldn't hope to escape or be rescued against such odds. Amir's people really would be penned into the foothills, with Yina as her only stronghold. "Of course," the general said, "we will treat a high lady of the land and..." he trailed off, and frowned at Arlis.  What stories had his men had told of Masara and Arlis's capture?

Arlis's fingers twitched. Treat us with honor, I bet, she signed. Masara affected not to notice, and did not smile.

"Well?" the general prompted.

Masara lifted her gaze and fixed on the shadows by the door. "I didn't realize you wanted an answer," she excused herself. "The young Lady Arlis is my squire, if that is what you were looking for."

The general nodded, as if all was now confirmed for him, and he stepped to the side, away from the tent opening. It was strange to think of such a man––young, open-faced, eager for action and the field itself––ordering the High Priest's death. This general had plenty of battlefields to choose from, without provoking a new series of them. But he had advisers, and they were apparently in the capital, directing the empire while the general was here.

"And it was the two of you who blocked the advance company?"

Masara inclined her head as far as she could.

"You wouldn't have gotten far anyway." Arlis raised her voice in a taunt. "The foothills can be quite haunted, you know."'

The general snorted. "I don't doubt it. I don't think 'foothills' is fair name for them, either. It's like calling the Henori river a little creek. I'm ready to forget the whole campaign." He sounded matter-of-fact.

"By all means, do," Masara suggested.

"But there's Lapur to worry about. And your mages."

"Our mages," Masara repeated, turning it into a question with an arched brow. The movement pulled at a scrape on her cheek by her hairline.

The general looked at her, slow and considering.

"Yes. Mine are worried. My advisers tell me it's unnatural that you don't use spells. Materials, incantations - the common instruments." He paused, then added: "Is it?"

Masara spoke before Arlis could. "Your imperial majesty," she said blandly, deciding now was as good a moment as any to dispense with all pretense, "why should any Amirran spill our secrets to you?"

Arlis frowned, backing down. She hadn't known who the general was, and Masara could tell she was swiftly reconsidering their situation.  

"I have found some who were very talkative, actually," the emperor-general retorted. Arlis hissed at the implication of torture––but Masara frowned at the general’s honest, untroubled irritation, and heard her quiet oft-ignored fear confirmed.

There was a traitor.

How else could Amirasa have fallen? And their escape to the foothills had been too close, too harried. Masara signed another hold to Arlis, one that called for caution, and said nothing.

"Unfortunately, they do not know much about your magics."

"You have captured Amirasa," Masara replied mildly, though the admission was ash on her tongue. She didn't dare ask for the general's chatty Amirran, not yet. "If your mages cannot see the spells of our city, that does not mean anything."

"They see those spells," the emperor-general clarified. "The battle magic, on the other hand..."

He trailed off expectantly, but neither Arlis nor Masara rose to fill the silence. When it stretched on, the emperor straightened, chin lifting as though he suddenly felt the weight of his crown, and said, "Even if you don't talk, you will be useful bargaining tools. Perhaps now your king will be tempted to meet me at a crossroads. What do you think, High Lady Masara?"

Masara offered the lopsided smile she could, but without warmth. "If negotiation is what you wish, I will write to my king myself."

"You doubt me?" the general demanded.

"Your army holds our ancient capital. You have done nothing but kill our people and claim our land."

"I sent an ambassador, and your king gave him back and declared war."

"Ambassador?" Arlis snapped. "Is that a new word for assassin?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The High Priest," Masara answered succinctly. It came out flat, an accusation torn free of the sudden hollow chasm that threatened her. It appeared suddenly, as usual, and nearly all-encompassing. She breathed through it slowly, counting in her head to ten.

"He was the head of a militant religious order," the general replied carefully, sensing the delicacy of the topic. "The greatest obstacle to diplomacy. He would never accept surrender."

Arlis scowled, but Masara called for her silence again––she was never very obedient for long, but she held her tongue for the moment.

"And did your sources also believe Amir would be amenable to surrender after an assassination?" Masara asked, with pointed equanimity.

The emperor-general frowned, and crossed his arms, and then changed the subject.

"I think the most important thing to remember is Lapur. They cannot be allowed to grow past the Blighted lands."

"How gratifying, that our kingdom can be a foothold in your imperial wars."

It wasn't exactly a fair assessment; Lapur worried Amir, too, with its constant, probing incursions north of the desert, into the no man's land usually left to Amir.

But it was Kas, young and full of its own power who had invaded, not Lapur.

The emperor-general's eyes narrowed, glinting nearly like gold as he coolly declared, "Say what you will, High Lady. But we cannot afford an Amirran succession crisis, not with Lapur so close and so restless."

Masara gestured minutely, freeing Arlis while she considered the general's words.

"That was your reasoning for your conquest of Seriona," Arlis burst out, after holding her tongue for what surely felt like ages to her. "We are not Seriona. In Amir, we know our king and our prince!"

The general frowned at Arlis, but replied to her as seriously as he had to Masara. "And if your king should prefer his niece over his son?" he challenged.

Arlis strained briefly, forgetting she was tied up as she tried to point at Masara. "We are here," she settled for instead, spitting the words out furiously. "A lone knight sacrificed to hold off your whole company, the high lady, the king's supposed favorite––doesn't that tell you anything?"

A new uneasiness settled in Masara's chest as she realized how badly she had underestimated her young squire. Arlis understood Masara's decision... and she was still a fool for endangering herself. In the past half year of border skirmishes, the outbreak of war, and their flight from Amirasa, Arlis had grown up a great deal.

Masara felt she herself had aged decades.

The general's expression didn't change, yet Masara still felt a shift in his attitude.

"It tells me more than you know," he said, and then waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "My ladies, I've been distracted from my purpose. I simply wished to inform you that you will be hostages until a suitable agreement can be come to with your king, which I hope will come swiftly. Until then, you will be kept with the camp quite safely, and we will do our best to see you treated with honor. If you need anything within reason, you need only shout to the guards." He glanced at Arlis, and added, "I don't think you'll have an issue with that."

Arlis regarded the general balefully. He ignored the young squire's glares, and asked Masara directly, "Should I send the surgeon to you again, my lady?"

Arlis fumed under her breath about it being his fault anyway; Masara's mind spun.

"That would be appreciated, your imperial majesty," she said quietly, focused more on the realizations that were slowly coming together for her, overcoming her unwillingness to see them.

"In the field, I prefer the title Imperial General. Hokiraj," said the emperor, magnanimous in his role as captor, familiarity offered as a flattering courtesy.

"Well then, Imperial General. It appears we are in your hands," Masara returned in kind, though distracted.

The imperial general coughed, made a vague noise of agreement, and then made his departure with, "I will send that surgeon along. Later, we will discuss that letter and what terms your king may agree to.”

As soon as he was gone, Kinlo followed him out and shut the tent. The haste of his exit went on unremarked, and it was Arlis who finally broke the silence.

“I think there’s a traitor, sir,” she whispered, reluctant to speak her fear too loudly.

Her squire was so old at fourteen, yet Masara wanted to protect her still. "I think I know who it is,” she prevaricated.

The king had broached the idea of changing the succession only once that Masara knew of, and only idly. Masara knew he would never act without his son’s complete agreement; it was how rule had been decided between himself and his older sister, Masara’s mother. He had thought he might have Panam’s approval.

Only Panam and Masara were not siblings, and it had been a while since they had been close as such.

Oh, cousin, she thought, unease dripping through her memories of Panam like oil. Could you really?

But Masara could not let despair overcome her. She had Arlis to protect... and Amir, too. However she could. 

[ddalgi-yong]

[friends with benefits]

requested? yes; i accidentally deleted the ask!

genre: smut, fluff

--

"what made you think we'd be going together to that party?", you asked donghyuck furiously. you couldn't believe that donghyuck had decided for the both of you that you'd be his date for jeno's party without asking you.

"please, y/n, you don't have a date yet, i don't have a date yet. so we're going together. end of the story", he said and just shrugged. you scoffed and shook your head.

"that's totally not going to happen."

well. it did happen.

you couldn't find anyone else to be your date so you ended up going with donghyuck. even though you didnt want to.

"you look beautiful. i mean it", he said and grabbed your hand to make it look less like he forced you to go with him.

"we're just here together. don't you dare to think that this means anything", you hissed and gasped as he suddenly pulled you closer to himself.

"you're lucky we're at prom right now. i'm just waiting until we're alone. there are way too many things i'd love to do to you right now", he murmured and smiled then.

"fuck you", you said and rolled your eyes.

"i'm up for it if you are", he grinned and softly brushed your hair behind your ear. "hey jaemin!" suddenly his attention was at his best friend; he let go of your hand and acted like you're not even there anymore.

you sighed and just went to the buffet; you had to distract yourself from being treated like shit by donghyuck.

"hey sweetheart", you were greeted by your ex-boyfriend, jeno. you hadn't talked to him for over three months now.

"what the fuck are you doing here?", you snapped, obviously not in the mood to talk to someone, especially not your ex.

"hey, i know we didn't end things well but there is no reason for you to be like this", he murmured and put his arm around you. "did hyuckie hurt your feelings or what? poor girl, i told you he isn't worth it."

"this all is none of your business. fuck off already, will you?", you tried to get away from him. in that moment, donghyuck appeared in front of you, pushing jeno away and that started the whole fight.

"leave her alone, you dick", donghyuck shouted, he seemed a little beside himself; you didn't know if it was because he had already drunk a little or if he was sober but got pissed at the fact that jeno was next to you. it seemed like the loud music had stopped, there was nothing else you noticed besides the two men. both of them started fighting, you were more concerned about donghyuck since you knew exactly that jeno was much stronger than donghyuck.

"stop this! don't fight", you screamed at both of them. but it seemed like they couldn't hear you. and then there was a pain, which seemed to go through your whole body. as you finally realized what had happened, you were already on the ground, struggling to breathe as jeno accidentally hit you on your chest as he was trying to hit donghyuck and you had tried to get in between them.

"fuck, y/n, i'm so sorry", he immediately apologized and tried to check up on you but donghyuck didn't let him.

"fuck off, i will get her home. don't you dare to touch her again when i am around", hyuck said with a loud and clear voice. you still hadn't processed what had happened and as you did, you already were in donghyuck's car.

"what the fuck?! why would you fight him? are you crazy?", you yelled. "stop the fucking car, i want to get out."

"you're not going anywhere", donghyuck muttered in annoyance and locked the doors just in case you were up to do something stupid.

"you dont get to decide that."

as he didn't answer you anymore, you just sighed and looked out of the window, lost in thoughts.

"look, i'm sorry. i shouldn't have fought him but... i just got angry as i saw him next to you and you clearly were uncomfortable. i just wanted to keep you away from him", he then said, making you jerk an eyebrow up.

"just... shut up", you said and turned back to the window, ignoring him completely.

he finally stopped the car and before he unlocked the doors, he softly put his hand on your cheek, pulling you towards him and before you could do anything, he was already kissing you. what wondered you was that he wasn’t being rough as usual. he was kissing you very softly rather than aggressive.

“i’m sorry, princess.”

you don’t know why your heart started beating faster when he called you princess. your whole body fluttered.

“don’t apologize. i… i actually wanted to thank you for helping me out. you’re not that bad as i always thought”, he laughed softly, shaking his head a little.

“do you want to come upstairs? i’m pretty lonely at the moment, now that my brother is gone”, you smiled a little, making him laugh out again.

“sure, why not”, he said and unlocked the doors so you could both get out. you already knew things were going to get heated before you even got out to prom but it was donghyuck. he might be a normal person, but he also is very unique and dirty minded; he also knew how to seduce you without even trying. the way upstairs was quiet, no one talked and you just waited the elevator to arrive at your floor. you opened your door and made space for him so he could enter the apartment after you.

“do you want something to drink?”, you asked him, your voice was really soft and quiet; the way his presence made you nervous scared you. you never felt as indulged before because of him.

“sure. water please”, you nodded and gave him the glass. little did you know that he was taking his chance to seduce you.

“you look so beautiful in this dress, my love”, he whispered into your ear, making your body shiver and he softly placed his hands on your hips. donghyuck slowly pulled up your dress, you started shaking because you were nervous and he made you feel so worked up just in a few seconds. he softly chuckled as he let his hand feel over your already wet panties.

“who got you this worked out, love?”, he breathed out into your ear; it made you grip the cup you just took out for donghyuck tighter and you had to breathe out softly to calm down.

“i didn’t hear anything”, he said, pulled your panties a little down before he softly started massaged over your clit. you closed your eyes and smiled as the pleasure hit through your body.

“you, hyuck. it’s you. it always was you. not jeno, not anyone else”, you moaned out as he slowly inserted his finger into you.

“good. now go to the bedroom and wait for me there. i’ll be there in a few, i promise”, he said, his voice was still very soft and deep. you nodded obediently, and moved away from him as soon as he finally pulled his finger away. you gasped at the sudden emptiness and bit your lip for a second before you hurried into your bedroom and started to pull the zipper of your dress down.

you were struggling to pull it down until your hand got replaced by donghyuck’s warm hand. he easily pulled it down, making your dress fall down with a soft sound, you stepped a bit forwards so you could lie down on the bed. the way he was still standing there made you feel even more nervous of what will happen next.

“you look so beautiful, my love. i can’t wait to have you all for myself again”, he said grinning and slowly sat down next to you. he was being so teasingly slow that it almost started hurting. his fingers softly brushed over your body; every single touch made you jolt up and when he finally hovered over you, he stopped being slow and teasing. he probably had no patience left to tease you as he finally kissed down your body and started sucking on your clit.

you moaned out loudly and your fingers first were gripping the sheets tightly before you gripped his hair tightly and pulled a bit. you felt him smile against your core and he continued to suck and lick over your core, making you moan and even scream as soon as he made you come on his tongue multiple times.

“donghyuck”, you breathed out. “please, fuck me. please, i’m begging you.”

“be patient, my love”, he smiled before he started to kiss his way up to your belly and chest, his chin was still glistening with your come and he kissed you, making you taste yourself. he always loved to be messy and you never complained. he absolutely loved it.

“i can’t be fucking patient anymore!”, you exclaimed, tried to turn you around and straddled him. he looked up to you, chuckled when you managed to turn around and you did your best to position his hardened cock at your core to go down on him.

you moaned out loud and your whole body started shaking as you started to move your hips as fast as possible. “god, donghyuck”, you whined out. he never answered you, making you look down on him.

“what gave you the right to turn around?”, he said with a threatening voice, making you shiver again. he gave you a look that made you feel scared of him. he didn’t say anything else before he turned you around again before he thrusted into you deeply, his pace was very fast and hard.

“s-slow d-down”, you grunted out. he ignored your request and continued with his current pace. you didn’t complain, though. the pleasure he made you feel was immense as you finally reached your high, falling over the edge as your whole body started twitching because of the overstimulation.

“oh god, hyuck”, you murmured as you finally were able to think and speak again.

“let me clean you up, then we can go to sleep”, he said caringly and got up as you nodded. he came back with a wet cloth and saw you sound asleep. he smiled as he saw you there and slowly cleaned your core up so you could sleep comfortably.

he lied down next to you and put the blanket over you.

donghyuck never had slept so peacefully like he did that night.

--

“ouch! watch out you dick”, you exclaimed, waking him up as he hugged you too tightly and his fingers were gripping your hips too hard.

“sorry, did that hurt?”, he asked you giggling.

“no, i’m just a little sore from last night”, you said grumpily.

“oh, really? didn’t think i wore you out that much. but i took good care of you yesterday, didn’t i?”, he asked you again, which you had to nod to. maybe he was going very hard on you whenever you fucked but he always took much care of you. he never really acted like he cared but he actually did. you knew that.

“yes, you did, you dickhead. no get the fuck out of my bed”, you said grumpily and turned away from him.

“why should i? sleeping next to you is comfortable”, he answered back and you shook your head.

“no… my brother returns home today. you have to leave, or i’m pretty much doomed”, you scolded him and got up to put your clothes on.

“alright then.”

he then got up and also put his clothes on. “do you have any comfortable things from me left around?”

“nope. but i can give you something from my brother’s closet”, you told him and left the room as he nodded approvingly.

there was no tension as there was yesterday night. it was rather awkward. donghyuck might be your fuck buddy, but you weren’t anything… even though you never could admit that you wanted more, you never had been anything but fuck buddies with donghyuck. it’s always been like that and you doubt that there would be anything else.

you had a small breakfast with him before he just said goodbye and left. you didn’t hear anything until the evening where you were spending time with your older brother. he called you when you were watching a movie while you cuddled your brother.

“y/nnnnnn”, he said your name and he sounded very drunk. you excused yourself and went to your room to talk to donghyuck in peace.

“what is it?! i told you i’m with my brother now”, you said with a scolding undertone.

“i looooove youuuuu”, he said in a singing voice. you rolled your eyes as he said that.

“how about you hang up and tell me this when you’re sober?”, you asked him.

“i’m not drunk, i’m totally okay”, he said but you knew exactly how he talked when he was drunk.

“we’ll see about that tomorrow.” those were your last words before you hung up. you didn’t notice it until then but you were shaking when you put your phone down. your brother called for you as you still didn’t return after a while and asked if you could get new snacks and drinks. you yelled back a ‘yes’ and did what he asked for you.

your brother asked you to sleep in the same bed that night. you smiled at his request, even though he was older, he still was acting like he was the younger one.

both of you always did that. you always found comfort in each other’s arms. but you didn’t know if you could ask your brother for advice about a fuck buddy you caught feelings for?

you were awake for the whole night. there were so many thoughts, so many things you were breaking your head over. you just needed to know if it was true. if lee donghyuck actually loved you or if it was just him drunkenly not knowing what he was saying.

but after all, drunken words are sober thoughts.

you werent sure if you should call him or not. you had to know the truth.

as your phone rang, you jumped up. recovering from the shock, you looked on your phone screen to see that it was donghyuck who called you.

“you told me to tell you when i was sober. here i am. i love you, y/n”, he blurted out as soon as you picked up.

“you… what?”

“i love you”, he repeated.

your heart stopped beating for a second as you realized his words. he was in love with you?!

“hyuck, i’m… i’m just so overhelmed right now. i love you, too”, you said and your heart was beating so fast and you didn’t know what to say or do. “i love you, too.”

“come over. i want to see you”, he said and you imagined him grinning as you accepted.

you couldn’t hide your smirk as you saw one of those red lacy underwear you once bought for special occasions and decided to wear that one before leaving, lying to your brother and saying that you were going to your best friend while you were in the bus, thinking about how you were going to let your now boyfriend fuck you into oblivion as soon as he saw what you were wearing under the baggy clothes.

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 4

A/N Oops early post. I couldn’t contain myself

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The muffle of heavy footsteps outside the front door had Jonah and I halting our breaths in our chests in anticipation. We were expectedly on edge. Thankfully, it was just the mail delivery and the security sensor at the front step set off a little notification noise from the main monitor that was set up on the kitchen counter. When the metal mailbox closed and the footsteps faded back towards the street, I moved over to the main monitor and typed in the code and scrolled through the notification menu. The film footage from the studio was still gone but it was listed as having been deleted around 8pm the night before.

“Anything of interest?” Jonah asked.

“Not really.” I mumbled and turned back to face him. “I’m going to look around a little more.”

“Alright. I’ll look around here.” he looked me up and down, “Maybe change your clothes while you’re at it.”

I glanced down at my white hoodie and white jeans, both pieces of clothing stained dark red all up the back from where I had been laying all night and my bloody handprint was smeared over the chest of my hoodie. Good idea.

I returned to the master bedroom and set my laptop bag on the bed and let my computer turn on while I headed into the walk-in closet to find clean clothes. The two garment bags hanging on the far wall in front of the mirror had me stopping in place with my hand on the light switch. I hesitated as if not having expected them to be there; even if I had known they would be returned home by Jonah and my brother along with the wedding gifts two weeks ago. I shuffled over to unzip the first black garment bag, dragging my hand down the smooth white dress that had been hidden underneath. A few smudges of red were left behind from my touch and I pulled my hand back quickly and wiped my blood-stained fingers on my pants.

I forced myself to swallow back any feelings as I zipped the bag back up and focused my attention on pulling black jeans from the shelf and a black t-shirt from a hanger. I took them into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind me as if I were trying to shut out something or suddenly needed some privacy. Funny that the only invasive things in the damn house was the weird feeling of guilt and realization and utter confusion that was eating me alive.

My hands were holding myself up on the edge of the counter and I was breathing hard, staring myself in the eye through the spotless mirror. Avalon always liked things clean.

Although I had been passed out on my studio floor for God knows how long that night, I still looked like I hadn’t slept in weeks. I seemed to have a layer of drying blood all over me and it matted my dyed blonde hair down in unattractive dark clumps and stained my white clothes evilly. The dark circles under my eyes didn’t seem like they were just from the flight home and the pale complexion that stared back at me didn’t even feel like my own. I ran my hand over my face, staring at how my slightly sticky fingers tugged at my skin, drawing more attention to my eyes and dry lips…honestly, who was I? My wife was dead – her throat slit and she was left to bleed out – and I was more worried about my face in the mirror.

I could see her eyes in my mind. Those lifeless brown eyes staring at me with all the unrevealable answers to the world. And yet, only days before, she was looking up at me with those same honey brown eyes, full of love and lust, on a king size bed in Costa Rica and whispering how much she loved me.

You have to understand, dear reader, that I had no clue what I was doing or what I was feeling. So you cannot truly blame me when the only reaction to my current situation was my body sending me to my knees in front of the toilet to throw up the limited plane food in my stomach as the metallic smell of blood flooded my senses. It was all too much.

I didn’t know what we had to do next, but I knew that whatever the plan was going to be, we had to move quickly. So I stripped out of my blood-stained clothes and into the clean ones, only stopping long enough to wipe any blood from my skin with a damp cloth until I looked reasonably tame in my reflection. I wet my hair under the tap to get the worst of the blood out of it and ruffled it with a towel before saying ‘good enough’ and headed back to the bedroom.

If I was in fact a murderer, no amount of water was going to cleanse this conscious.

I sat on the edge of the bed and typed in my password to my laptop. The screen loaded and brought up the last tab that was open; the flight information home. The site had updated and stated that the plane had landed on time at LAX yesterday evening and my credit card receipt showed the taxi payment for thirty minutes later. We were home around 7:00. Other than confirming the times at which we returned home, the laptop didn’t offer much assistance.

What did I expect? The screen to read out exactly how my wife was murdered?

Jonah came into the room, “Hey. Find anything?”

I glanced up at him before looking back down at the screen, biting anxiously at my fingernail, “No. Don’t remember anything more either.”

Jonah didn’t answer, letting me have a moment to collect my thoughts. I didn’t blame him; what do you say to your best friend who possibly just murdered their wife and doesn’t remember it. I swiped my finger over the trackpad on my laptop to bring up the other window that was open; iMessage. The last conversation thread that was up was between Avalon and me. I remembered it well.

I was down at the resort bar the night before we left. Jonah had sent me a recording that he wanted my opinions on and I had a few changes I wanted to make so I took myself downstairs with my headphones and my laptop and got some work in. Cocktail in one hand and mouse in the other, I worked until the notification popped up on the bottom menu of my screen.

It would be nice if you spent our last night up here with me.

I had ignored it, huffing and rolling my eyes at her constant pestering and minimized the window again.

God…stupid me. That would have been our last night together. And she didn’t even face towards me when I finally came to bed.

“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”

“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”

I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”

I made her miserable.

“Jonah.” I breathed, turning to look at him over the top of my laptop, “What if she killed herself?”

“She didn’t seem suicidal.” Jonah said.

“Yeah.” I sighed, turning back to the screen. I let out a heavy breath and closed my laptop and tucked it back in the case. “We have to decide what to do.”

“Alright. What are you thinking?” Jonah asked.

I thought for a moment as I set my laptop bag back on top of the untouched suitcase by the wall, “I don’t know. I need time to figure out what the hell happened.”

“Do you want to head to the lodge in Utah? It will buy you a few days and maybe we can figure out what happened by then.”

I nodded, letting out a deep breath, “Yeah, okay. That probably makes the most sense.”

I walked past Jonah and out of the master bedroom, stopping shuffle through the mail that had been collected by Jonah and Christian throughout the last three weeks and placed in a decorative bowl on the front console table. I ruffled through a few bills and random mailer coupons, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything that I might want to take with me out of state. My search stopped dry at one crisp white envelope, addressed to our house and labelled with simply Avalon with no surname. I frowned and slid my finger under the sealed flap to tear it open.

“Bro, opening other people’s mail is a federal offence.” Jonah stated as he joined me by the table.

“She’s dead, Jonah. I don’t think it really matters anymore.” I answered flatly and pulled out the folded piece of lined stationary from the envelope.

Avalon,

Things are hard right now and I get that but shutting me out isn’t going to help anyone. You can’t give up on me. I really want to see you when you get home. Please let me know when you get this. I need to make things right.

-J

My heart felt like someone was pushing it through a juicer and I frowned down at the paper as I read it a second time. The second time didn’t make it hurt any less. I rubbed my hand over my chest and then ruffled it through my damp hair.

“What the fuck is this?” I breathed. I looked at Jonah, “Who’s J? Is it you?”

“Me? Why would I write her suspicious letters when I can just text her?” Jonah replied.

“Yeah.” I sighed and looked back down at the letter. I clenched my jaw and swallowed back the hurt and strange glimmer of jealousy that was bubbling up inside my empty stomach. “Maybe there’s something on her phone.”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15​

[sakuatsutingz]

i'm bored so hi random post

there are 18 characters in this tHE MASTERLIST IS GOING TO BE SO HARD TO UPDATE HELP ME

also this took like 3 hours to put together don't let it flop tyvm

- bri

haikyuu in danganropa

TRIGGER WARNING : heavy mentions of death + brief talk about how they die and mentions of mental disorders

find the masterlist here

request or talk to us here !

who dies + their killers

iwa and kyotani

i feel like kyotani would take the first change to murder iwa

very spiratic and little planning

obvious it was him lol

kyotani would get blackened

rightfully so -

oikawa = paIN GN

this is kyotani's way of showing he's better

twisted but hey it works

not like his sense of superiority was long lasted

since he died anyways but wtv

saeko and yachi

OKAY HEAR ME OUT

we all know yachi = angel

but i imagine that either

a. someone was trying to attack her

and she killed them in self defense

or b. she got v paranoid and just stabbed whoever got close to her

in this case it was point a and her victim was saeko

actually did a v good job at hiding the body

she would've tried to save saeko tho

like she stabbed saeko's stomach

and then tried to save her from bleeding out

didn't work obviously

kiyoko figured it out

since she saw the difference in yachi

and yachi was blackended

noya and tanaka

they would've been sharing a room

like tanaka slept in noya's room

and tanaka ended up killing noya in his sleep

quick and painless tho

he just wanted to try to live

and felt extremely guilty that he killed noya

he was pretty good at hiding it

kinda like leon style from the anime

but he left some clues

which kiyoko and kuroo put together

and figured it out that it was him

honestly it made kiyoko hella sad that tanaka betrayed his best friend

kenma and lev

this hurt me so much to write sOBS ASF

would be an accidental death

like i feel it would be a todoroki moment

kenma and lev were cooking food

lev accidentally dropped hot water onto kenma

and kenma was in hella agony

so lev killed him to put him out of his pain

kuroo = emotionally pained

both at the fact kenma is dead

and that lev betrayed him

lev didn't do a good job hiding it

but would go hysterical when they realize it was him

not in the matter of wanting to save himself

but rather apologising for killing kenma

atsumu and kageyama

after what happened yesterday

i want both twins to die 🙄🙄

but atsumu gonna die here gn

i was so tempted to put myself as the killer SJSJ

kageyama would've planned it all out

not for atsumu specifically

but rather just the general plan of it all

and atsumu happened to be there wrong day wrong time ya know ??

and boom atsumu was dead

kageyama almost got away with it as well

tried to blame osamu lol

but there would be one or two clues

that got kageyama sus'ed and killed

so kageyama was blackened

survivors

kiyoko

v good at hiding the trauma

but you know she's crying at night

misses yachi x100

kuroo

this man is r u i n e d

kenma and lev both gone

absolutely sobbing

i lowkey already headcanon he has some form of depression

so now it's just so much worse

oikawa

idek how this man would react

like he is so haRD TO READ

would he act the same ??

would he become rlly quiet ??

would be just become despression ??

i have no clue

tsukishima

lowkey just acts like normal

to him it's just more stuff to bury

that's what we call issues ✨✨

hinata

mans would become a lot quieter

and a lot less happy and energetic

would c l i n g to anything he had from his friends

like kageyama's volleyball

and noya and tanaka's vball jackets

would give kenma's gaming console to kuroo

osamu

he would binge eat 100%

had to get used to living without his twin

lowkey would scare him not to have the support anymore

mastermind(s)

spoiler warning for danganropa

yamaguchi

punk ?? yamaguchi ?? yes ??

i love the hc that once he gains enough confidence he becomes a badass

so i'm projecting into this

would be the more 'behind the scenes' leader

also the main reason the outside world is now the purge but 24/7

he originally brought his friends to hopes high

in the matter of protecting them

it's the next person who made most of it to a murder game

he just kinda watch it all happen

but would step in if tsukki was in danger

tendou

the one running the murder game aspect

basically the "monokuma" of it all

also the one who decides all of what will happen in the blackenings

doesn't care much for planning

usually just listens to yamaguchi's plan

or his orders

letting out the inner rage

that built up cause of the bullying as a child

just imagines the ones he's killing

are those childhood bullies ✨✨

if i knew their name they would be v much dead

i am to protect tendou with my entire life

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

!Season 3 spoilers coming right ahead!

A tiny sigh escaped Maris lips as she felt her body filling up with energy. “He ate. I think I’ll be fine in a few”, she told her partner, who was currently swimming next to her. She hadn’t dared to detransform for a day now, knowing that doing so would mean her finally collapsing. The duo hasn’t been wasting time, though. Theyvwere trying to come up with a new plan. Ladybug told him all about her being the new Guardian of the Miraculous, about Chat Blanc and Bunnix. Pointed out how if Bunnix hasn’t turned up yet, that meant that they could handle the situation. Explained why she wouldn’t dare share her identity with him, even though she wanted to, because of how she couldn’t afford to risk him turning into Chat Blanc again. Ladybug told him about her soulmate. Now he finally understood how she had such incredible stamina and... had a hard time agreeing to the two of them staying as nothing more than friends.

Adrien did not disregard their friendship as something unimportant. Knowing that he was Ladybugs best friend and feeling that she was just as well his... best friend, his partner, the person he could rely on the most. It was amazing, unique and so very very important to him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt, though. He loved her and she liked him, they both knew that. It just was never enough. Not for Adrien.Now was not the time to grieve his broken heart, though. He was used to suppressing his emotions due to Hawkmoths terror. He could keep it together for a little longer.

Now that all their cards were laid out on the table, they were ready to come up with a plan.

“Look. I can’t cast my cure while the akuma is still out there. Creation doesn’t work with destruction working actively against it.”, Ladybug told Chat who, though currently detransformed as Adrien, winced. The word “Destruction” has already intergrated itself as a trigger, setting off a bad reaction in the teenagers mind. Plagg did not like that in the slightest. “Kid, you’ve gotta get it together. Yes I am the god of D-Trigger, but I’m also the God of Chaos and let me tell ya, I can’t sense a hint of chaos on that dusty dirtbag out there.” Adrien smirked, a drained, sarcastical smile forming on his lips. “Are you trying to tell me I have another power you’ve just forgotten to mention?” 

The heroes knew they still weren’t off age and therefore didn’t have access to their full potential. That didn’t stop hope from lighting up in the backs of the duos hearts. They already couldn’t use the other Miraculous power, since all of the previous Miraculous holders were eliminated on day three, due to Hawkmoth already knowing their identities (thanks to what he had done on heroes day two years ago) and him finding the civilian heroes’ hiding places before Ladybug and Chat Noir could even locate their presence in Paris. Searching for new holders was clearly not a good idea. They couldn’t risk throwing someone inexperienced and terrified into a battle they didn’t know how to win yet.

But if Chat could use a new power? 

That would be the element of surprise they needed! Adriens 18th Birthday was just around the corner, there's a chance it could work!

"Nah, he's not in the right condition to try, too young and way too exhausted"

Bye bye little flame of hope.

"But if you were to get some ACTUAL sleep and eat some fucking food? You would totally make it."

"Wait what?", Marinettes eyes were the size of asteroids. They had a chance! She just had to get him to one of those bunkers so he could get some sleep and then..."Then we'll have to go without it. I'm not leaving you alone milady."

Oh, yeah, there was that tiny detail she had forgotten. The two of them were too protective of each other to leave their partner to their own devices and Ladybug entering any building was not an option.The girl let out a frustrated huff, "Cha-" "I understand what you mean, Ladybug.”, Adriens voice was solid and left no room for argument. Batman would have been proud. “But this is not up to debate. I'm not leaving you alone, not while you are in this state nor during any of our battles. It has never ended well in the past and it sure as hell won't end well now."

Plagg' and Maris' annoyed sighs were absolutly identical, which would've made Adrien laugh, if it weren't for their current situation. He knew he was right, though, and he knew she did as well.

Mentally, Marinette was feeling better. Less on edge, more focused. It was surprising to all of them. Of course she still was incredibly tired, even more fatigued than yesterday, which was understandable since she has not slept for about a week now and spent most of her time swinging around Paris, thinking her head off and crying her eyes out while trying to save as many civilians as possible. Nontheless, even though her body was about to shut down, her brain was working at a thousand miles per hour. She knew it was thanks to her soulmate, who was currently fueling the both of them by ingesting loads of energizing substances and getting closer.

Marinette was now certain her soulmate was a man. He was in Paris, in danger and aware of her dependance on him.

Who could he be? How did he get here? Why now? Why hasn’t he ever tried to find her before? 

She didn’t judge him, of couse. Did not expect him to put everything aside just to find her. Who if not Ladybug could understand what it meant to have duties holding you back, chaining you to the ones who claim to love you? (While they only do so because they need her, Marinette believed. Paris didn’t actually love her, no-one cared about her wellbeing unless it was important for their safety. No-one would jump into fire for Ladybug if they wouldn't trust her to sacrifice her sanity to resurrect them. No-one has ever jumped to rescue Marinette in her civilian identity, after all.)

Marinette was spiralling. Memories and repressed emotions suddenly jumping to the surface, reminding her of all the ways she had offered her very self to help anyone in need and receiving nothing in return. She had people who were nice to her, she had friends and family and people who loved her for who she was. Sadly, Mari only just now realised that love wasn't enough. It has never been enough. She would spend many nights awake, working on gifts and projects and helping her friends out or even just simply entertaining them over the phone. What for? Why?!

"Marinette is a saint", her parents would say, "She can do anything." Mari knew that wasn't true. She wasn't almighty. She couldn't even say "No".

That’s where the spiral came to an end. All those thoughts were standing at a cliffs edge, staring down into the abyss right beneath their feet. A tiny step forward, a minimal lean in and she would fall. Where would she go? What would she encounter? Was it okay to do this? Was it okay to change?

For once, Mari felt sure of herself. In a place she would've never thought she'd be, swimming under a god damn Ladybug themed boat in the middle of the Saine. Her mind was clear, certain. She opened her eyes and her mind jumped.

"Well fuck no I can't always do everything.", Mari heard Ladybugs voice, only partly recognizing it as her own.

The black cat duo next to her winced, having been discussing the topic of whether or not Adrien could leave Ladybug alone for a few hours. Not at all have they been expecting the sudden change in the star of their argument.

"Bug...?"

She looked at him, face straight but full of rage. Eyes sharp but full of thought. She didn't need to look around to figure out how to use her lucky charm, instead she had a horrible, unstable and unfinished plan she was absolutely going to follow.

"I have an idea."

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

Hawkmoth was nervous. The akuma was stronger than he had expected and definitely much harder to control. He hasn't yet decided whether or not it was a good idea to akumatize a homeless man, especially considering his educational history in architecture and geography.

It was like the Akuma was thinking, not just feeling like all his previous ones did. It could either mean victory or the literal end of the world. Gabriel was hoping for the first option, of course.

Another reason for his nervous state of mind, were the unexpected members of the justice league, who for whatever reason just now decided to enter the battlefield. He hasn't been expecting them anymore, once the first year of his reign had passed without a droplet of attention from Gotham and the rest of the world. If they've never cared before, why now? Did they suddenly have more free time or did they only just realise they were literal vigilantes and could therefore ignore any and all international borders?

Or was Hawkmoth finally on the right track, finally about to win so they sent the last of their forces to come and save his enemies? A grin split his masked face in a horrifying grimace. His secret weapon was still leashed, still waiting for his order. Agreste Senior had the upper hand, this was his time to shine, his time to win.

Finally.

----------

Much clearer air seeped into Jason's lungs. He even went as far as removing his mask, just so he could properly breathe in something that wasn't poisoned with a literal mist of dust and the stench of death. His heart, no, their hearts were beating faster. Jason stood right by the river. He felt the cold water numbing her legs and reaching for her throat. He felt her dizzy fatigue and her clenching stomach. He knew her thoughts were just as clear as his. It felt as though their minds were finally complete, as if their brains could finally grasp the whole situation. Their body's were so close, they could finally function the way they were meant to. Together, helping one another.

"Red Robin. I found her. The boats are meant for shelter, the akuma can't come out in the open and it’s afraid of water. The heroes must be somewhere underneath those fat kanus."

"Copy."

"I'm going in."

"Hood wai-"

Jason was already underwater, hearing but not listening to Tim's voice.

Red Hood was about to find his Red Lady and no one could stop him.

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

Marinette had just finished explaining her plan to Adrien, who was now transformed and ready to move, when she felt it. "He's here.", was all she could muster. Chat didn't have to think twice to guess what she had meant and subconsciously started to brace himself. He couldn't help but think that now really wasn't the time for her soulmate to interrupt. They were at war, which meant that her uninvited lover was putting himself and Ladybug at risk. Risking her safety meant risking Paris safety which meant that over all, Adrien felt like they were being royaly fucked by the Kwami of Timing.

The Duo felt the water underneath their feet moving. (The rivers flow has been stopped right at the beginning of the akuma battle. It was a safety precaution the mayor has ordered after a particularly unpleasant spread of akuma poison. Now, whenever the Akuma-alert went of, the city shut down, sealed shut and closed up. Not a single soul could enter and not a single twig could leave.

The heroes had formerly agreed to that being a great idea, now that they were short on everything, though... let's say they have learned that isolation wasn't always the best solution to their problems.)

Ladybug felt him before she heard him, a weird sense of Deja-vu overcoming her.

He came up behind her. Her spine felt like it was buzzing with electricity.

"Pixie?"

Jason didn't know why he called her that, but it sure as hell felt right.

Another shiver went down their spines. Marinettes reaction caused by her soulmates voice, while Jason's body just seemed to mimic hers even more intensely now.

She turned around.

Their eyes met.

Their scars felt like they've lit up in flames.

Two sleeping bodies were sinking towards the floor of the river Saine.

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

Hey ho, friendioh

I am so tired, my eyes are so done, je suis juste come Jasonette in my story.

You comments though? I LOVE YOU. Thank each and every one of you lovely message-leavers, my heart is now full of love and excitement and it’s your fault!

I can’t stress this enough, your feedback is shooing my depressay far far away.

Now back to the content. I am not finished yet, there’s more coming and the end is still uncertain, even to me. I have my plotline and my scenes, but this story has kind of started writing itself (which in my opinion is what makes writing so great). So I guess we’re all looking into a future just as uncertain as Dukes vision :)

My taglist has grown! Message me if you are interested in joining that cute group you are about to read the names of, I’ll be happy to add you ^^

Tag List \o/

@maribat-is-lifeblood @lokilex @amayakans @readingismyoxygen 

Thanks for reading ^^

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-Two

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, and angst if you squint. 

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

You and Eleanor sat out on the balcony for a bit while so Harry and Louis could go hang out up in the loft and talk pictures and cameras and stuff.

“You look great, El.”

“Thanks, just wish I felt great.” She laughs. “I was hopin’ I’d be one of those pregnant women that only gain weight in the belly. Feel like everythin’ else is growin’ with it.” She sighs. “Although, I’ll say I’m startin’ to feel less gross now. At least you can tell I’m pregnant and not just fat.” You both laugh.

“You know Harry talks about wanting a baby all the time. He’s cooled it a bit now that we have Buster. I feel like he thinks the whole process is going to be a breeze.”

“Well of course he does, he’s a man. His hormones don’t get thrown out of wack, his body gets to stay the way it is, oh and after the only thing he gets to have happen to him as that he’ll be tired. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve read so many disgusting stories about after havin’ the baby. The things they don’t really tell you. Like rippin’ all the way open to your arse, and what’s it’s like to really go to the bathroom for the first time. Your body is tryin’ to recover, meanwhile you’re expected to take of this new thing that just came outta yeh. Fuck’n terrifyin’.”

“Can I ask…I mean, was this planned, did you two have a slip up?”

“A mix of both actually. I had gotten off the pill because I knew we’d be wantin’ t’try in the next year or so and I just wanted to give my body some time to adjust. So naturally we switched to condoms.” She takes a sip of her water. “Lou, god love ‘em, didn’t notice that one of ‘em broke while we were usin’ it, I didn’t either. Next thing we knew I was throwin’ up most mornings and when we took the test sure enough it said I was pregnant. Broke his heart to move the date back for the wedding, but I refuse to either still be pregnant or have this nasty baby weight on me.”

“I don’t blame you at all. Your wedding day is supposed to be one of the best days of your life, you don’t wanna look back on the photos and be unhappy.”

“Exactly! I know I’ve been snippy with him lately, and he’s been so patient and understanding. With his ex he was the same way, probably more so, so she wouldn’t snatch Freddie away. Not that she would, but it was always in the back of his head.”

“Harry told me he talks to the baby every night.”

“Oh, he does.” She chuckles. “It’s actually really cute. He’ll help me rub some cocoa butter on, it’s to help with the stretch marks, and then he’ll hum and chat with it.”

“Are you going to wait to see what you’re having?”

“Yeah, we really wanna be surprised. No one does that anymore. Everyone’s doin’ these gender reveal parties now, and I really don’t like ‘em. You’re already determining the kid’s life and personality before it gets here.”

“I agree, they’re way over done.”

“Love?” Louis steps outside with Harry. “We should probably get goin’, wanna beat the traffic and all that.”

“Alright.” He comes over to help her up, not that she needed it. “You boys have fun lookin’ at your cameras?”

“Yup.” He smiles at her. “Thanks again for havin’ us.”

“You’ll stay with us again for the studio opening?” Harry asks. Louis freezes and looks at you.

“Um, I think Niall called dibs on us for that. Gotta take turns y’know?” He laughs.

“Oh…alright then.”

The two leave. You and Harry flop on the sofa with Buster.

“Poor thing, she’s not having an easy time.”

“Yeah, Lou was tellin’ me a bit this morning…they haven’t had sex in nearly two months.”

“Can you blame her? She feels disgusting. God, I’d probably feel the same way. Having literally no control over the way your body changes every day. Not to mention the bump getting in the way all of a sudden. I’d feel like I was crushing you.” Harry swallows hard, his anxiety returning. “Not to mention the resentment.” You laugh.

“Resentment?”

“Yeah, you know the cliché, you did this to me?” You laugh again, but his face stays solid.

“Do you really think it’s that bad the entire time?”

“No…I mean, everyone’s different. I know people who have had really easy pregnancies, but it’s not perfect one-hundred percent of the time. I’m sure things will get better, she’s just starting her second trimester, I heard that’s when things sort of level out.”

“Right…” He looks at Buster and pets him. “Glad we have this little guys for now. He’s all we need for the time being.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Can I ask an awkward question?”

“Sure.”

“Erica and Kyle…I mean…that was a weird thing to bring up yesterday.”

“Oh god, I know.”

“I mean, not that I expect you guys to talk about your sex lives, but they thought I was chokin’ yeh to hurt yeh…”

“Yeah, they’re idiots.” You sigh. “We also grew up in sort of a strict home…sort of conservative about certain things. We watched movies that had sex and stuff in it, but I never had like a talk with my parents about it. And anytime I wanted to talk with Erica I just felt awkward. And god know Bridget had no experience. I learned most of what I learned from reading shit on the internet. Plus, I was always nervous with boys in high school. That first kiss story? I was fourteen right? Didn’t kiss another boy until I was seventeen, about to graduate from high school. Then, the next person I kissed was the guy I first had sex with nearly two years later. Did everything for the first time all in one night.” Harry nods. “See, I feel like I was the only one that was able to really explore sex because I was the only one to go away to school. Bridget and Kyle commuted. He had a couple girlfriends, but my parents made him sleep on the couch if he wanted one of them to sleepover.”

“Ah, classic.”

“As if my brother would do anything, his room was right next to my parents’.” You laugh. “And Erica’s been with her boyfriend for nearly ten years. I mean she had a few different boyfriends in high school, but she was locked down when she went to college. And then there was me…”

“You know, you’ve never told me your number.”

“And you’ve never told me yours. It’s not something I think we need to share. The guy I first slept with was the only guys I slept with for about four months. It was just a sex thing. He, however, had a few girls on rotation.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “Things ended in a bad way, it was messy. After that I got a Tinder and I started hooking up all the time. Had a few little relationships here and there, but nothing serious. I think my siblings would be shocked if they knew about all the shit I did, who I did it with, and where it was done.” You say blushing. “I basically told Erica she just needs to mind her own business, and that was that.”

“Good, because I don’t need anyone shamin’ us. There’s worse things we could be doin’ anyways.”

“Yeah, cause you know, anal totally isn’t worse than lightly choking someone.” Harry bursts out laughing and pulls you on top of him snuggle.

“Nope, not worse at all.”

//

“Bug spray?”

“Check.”

“Sun screen?”

“Check.”

“Water bottle?”

“Check.”

“Inhaler?”

“Check.”

“Sleeping bag?”

“Check.”

“Deo-“

“Babe, I promise, I got all my toiletries.”

“You’re going to be up in New Hampshire for two nights with probably zero cell service, I need to make sure you’re alright and have everything you need.”

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you.

“You’re gonna miss me a little, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” You pout. “I’m just glad Buster’s staying here with me, I’ll have someone to cuddle.”

“What are you and the girls doin’?”

“Well, they’re setting up shop here, in the guest room. We’re gonna do some face masks, nails, watch a ton of movies. It’ll be fun.”

“Good.” Harry looks at his watch. “Nearly eight, I gotta get this shit in the car and head out with Niall.”

“I’ll walk down with you, Buster probably needs to pee again. C’mon baby, let’s go say bye to daddy.” You pus the leash on him and walk down. Sarah was with Niall at Harry’s car.

“You’re never on time for anythin’.” Niall laughs.

“Alright, have a safe trip and a good time. If you have service, let us know when you get there.” Sarah says to Niall. They kiss and he gets in the car.

Harry gives Buster a hug, then looks at you.

“I love you, be good.” He says. You fake gasp.

“I am always on my best behavior.”

“With those two, oh yeah, for sure.”

“Love you too.”

He wraps his arms around you and gives you a deep kiss. You bite his bottom lip before he lets you go.

“Right.” He coughs. “Uh, bye.”

He gets into the car and drives off.

“You two…are disgusting.” Sarah laughs.

“Stop, we are not.” You sigh.

“Did you tell him we’re going out tonight?”

“You know, it slipped my mind.”

“I didn’t tell Niall either.”

“Come on, I’ll make us some breakfast, Rachel will be over later this afternoon.”

//

Harry and Niall mostly listen to music on the drive up. They pick Louis up on the way.

“What’s El up to this weekend?” Niall asks.

“Her mum’s actually visiting this weekend, so this couldn’t have come at a better time.” He laughs. “They’re talkin’ about havin’ her stay with us for a bit once the baby’s born.” He sighs. “Wouldn’t be the end of the world, but still.”

The three have a nice ride up to the campground. All the talk is pretty lighthearted. Harry pays to park, and one of the rangers tells them where they can set up. They find a nice spot that had a fire pit and they set up their tents.

“Harry, m’bunkin’ with yeh, I didn’t have a tent.” Louis says.

“Yeah, mate, no problem.”

The boys have lunch and decide to go for a walk. They knew they’d be sitting around doing a lot of drinking later, so the least they could do was walk around and enjoy the beautiful area there were in.

//

Rachel came over around three in the afternoon. You all decided to make frozen margaritas and sit out on the balcony listening to music.

“So, what’s Mariah up to this weekend?” You ask.

“She’s catching up with some of her own friends.” She says taking a sip of her cool drink. “God, I can’t wait to go to Seth’s tomorrow. Nothing like day drinking on a Sunday.”

“I know! And his apartment is so cool, heated pool and everything. It’s gonna be really hot out tomorrow, I’m definitely bringing my swim suit.”

“Plus, we’re going to that indoor/outdoor place tonight. I’m super excited.” You say.

“Did either of tell Harry and Niall about Seth?”

“You know…” Sarah says sipping her drink. “It didn’t come up.”

“Harry just let go of thinking something was happening between Niall and I, no way was I going to bring up going to a guy friend’s house party. Can we please just be careful with posting pictures?”

“I thought they weren’t going to have service.”

“Well, they could, and they could always see stuff later.” Sarah says.

“How sad that the two of you are afraid of your boyfriends…”

“We’re not afraid of them.” You say.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to leave certain things out.”

//

A little before dusk, Harry and the boys got a fire started. The cracked open their beers and snacked on chips. Louis took a joint out of his bag.

“Lads?”

“Pass it over.” Niall says and takes a hit. “Harry?”

“Sure.” He takes it. “Can’t remember the last time I smoked.” He smirks and takes a hit, then passes it back to Louis.

“Got plenty for the weekend. Haven’t been able to smoke since El got pregnant.”

“Can’t mention this to the girls at all.” Niall says. “I know it’s just weed, but I think Sarah would kill me.”

“Same with Y/N, I don’t think she’s kill me, but it’s just better if it stays between us.”

“What happens in New Hampshire, stays in New Hampshire.” Louis says.

Eventually all the boys themselves laying on the ground, looking up the stars, staying cozy by the fire.

“We hikin’ tomorrow?” Louis asks.

“Definitely, lotta great trails around here.” Niall says.

“Lou, are you scared to be a dad again?” Harry asks out of nowhere. Louis props himself up on his elbows so he can better look at his friend.

“What? Not really, no. It’s a little scary I suppose that I’ll be doin’ it full time. And I’m a little scared that Freddie’s gonna think I’m replacin’ him…but not scared to be a dad again.”

“Does Freddie know he’s gonna be a big brother?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, we told him a few weeks ago. He said he’s excited to have someone to play with.” He smiles. “Bri took it really well too. I think she’s happy he’ll be a big brother too.”

“It’s nice you all have gotten to a point where you all can get along.” Harry says.

“I mean, I walk on eggshells with Bri, but I’d rather do that than fight with her.” He takes a sip of his drink. “How’s havin’ a dog goin’?”

“Oh, it’s great. Think it’s just what we needed. I think it’s added a little more structure to our daily routines. Like we have to get up and take him out, stuff like that.”

“They call each other mummy and daddy.” Niall says laughing.

“A lot of people do that with their pets, don’t make fun of him. So, uh, when else does she call you daddy?” He smirks and Harry nudges him.

“She doesn’t.” He laughs.

“I still can’t believe you’ve made a life with someone. When yeh told me you were seein’ someone and already asked her to be your girlfriend, I was shocked, but really happy for you.”

“I don’t know what it was, I feel like I found my soulmate or some shit.” Harry sits up and starts sniffling. The other two sit up as well.

“Now I remember why you stopped smokin’, yeh always cry when yeh have too much.” Niall says, giving him a pat on the back.

“Shut up.” He sniffles.

“Why are you cryin’?” Louis asks, putting his hand on his knee.

“I’ve just never said that out loud to anyone before.” He wipes his eyes. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, it’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

“Do you think she feels the same way, that you’re her soulmate?” Louis asks.

“She must, right? I know she sees a life with me or she wouldn’t have agreed to gettin’ a dog. I…you know she had a pregnancy scare a couple months ago, well sort of, she just missed one of her pills. And I really didn’t think it was a big deal, like if she got pregnant we would’ve just dealt with it, but now I’m sorta glad she didn’t. The whole thing seems really stressful.”

“It’s very stressful, mate. Worth it, but it’s not a movie. She’s got a nephew right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, enjoy just bein’ an uncle for a bit. Hell, enjoy bein’ an uncle to my kids. I know you’ve always wanted to be a dad, and you’ll be a great one when the time comes, but there’s really no rush.”

“I’m startin’ to see that…” Harry looks at Niall. “What about you, is Sarah your soulmate?”

“I don’t really believe in the soulmate thing.” He shrugs. “Do I think she’d make a great partner in life? Sure. I mean, I’m grateful every day we went out with the girls that night and we met. I enjoy spendin’ my free time with her, and we’re in love there’s no doubt about that.”

“Do you think you’ll marry her some day?”

“Too soon to tell, to be honest with yeh. You know me, I live in the present. I think once we’ve been together a year I’ll ask her to move in with me.”

“You two really are on opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Yeah, and you’re right in the middle.” Harry jokes.

“Well, when are you poppin’ the question to Y/N, know you’ve thought about it. Surprised you don’t have the ring with yeh now.”

“It’s been purchased, and it’s in London. I plan to pick it up when I go home later in the summer. I’m waitin’ for us to be together a year before I ask. Her family’s a little conservative, so I figure if we’ve been together a year, then no one can really tell us we’re movin’ too fast. Plus it takes like another year to actually get married with all the planning.”

“God, look at us. We’re so grown up.” Louis says. “It’s fuckin’ disgustin’.” They all laugh. “I mean really, if someone told me six years ago I’d be gettin’ ready to be a father of two, you’d be gettin’ ready to move in with a serious girlfriend, and you’d be just about on your knee ready to propose, I’d of laughed in their face.” They all laugh, but Harry feels tears prick at his eyes again.

“I just don’t want this to change. No matter how much we keep growin’ up, or no matter how busy we get with our own lives, we have to make time for this.” He says through sniffles. “She may be my soulmate, but you two are like…”

The both hug Harry. Nothing else needed to be said on that. The three of them loved each other, and they knew it.

//

The three of you had a great time at the bar. You didn’t stay out too late because you knew you’d be out all day tomorrow. The three of you camp out in the living room, which makes Buster very happy. You all decide to watch a movie and just snuggle up with each other like old times.

“Okay, now that we’re drunk, there’s been something I’ve been dying to ask.” Rachel says just as the movie starts.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Well, Sarah’s told me all about her butt adventures with Niall…she let him get in there you know?”

“I do know, I also know she didn’t like it very much.”

“It was just incredibly awkward and embarrassing, but it’s shut him about it so we’re good.”

“The last time we talked about it you asked me how a strap worked…” She starts giggling.

“I think…I think that’s something that should remain private.” Rachel and Sarah squeal and giggle.

“That just means you used one!” Rachel says. “How often? Did he like it?”

“Guys…I really don’t think he’d appreciate me talking about it.”

“As if they’re not talking about. That’s what guys do when they’re alone, they share sex notes.” Sarah says. “You can’t possibly think they’re out there, laying under the stars having a deep conversation.”

“No…I suppose you’re right…okay, I’ll tell you a little bit, but please, it’s so personal…”

“We won’t say anything. Everything this weekend stays between us.” Rachel says.

“We’ve…done it a few times…it’s incredible. And he actually likes it, it feels good for him.”

“Obviously, once you get a man’s prostate in the mix, there’s no going back.” Rachel says.

“I was surprised, honestly. He took it so well. I told him he could be the one to ask for it after we first did it because I didn’t want him to feel pressured. He’s so cute, one time was like,” You look down and put your two index finger tips together, “got some more lube today, love.”  They both squeal.

“God, Harry is the shyest, cutest thing sometimes.” Sarah says.

“I wish Mariah was here, she tells the best stories about Harry. He has this really tough exterior, but he’s such a good person.”

“Yeah, he’d take the shirt off his back if someone needed it.” You smile.

“Now that he’s not sitting right here will you please tell us what the fuck was up with your neck last weekend?”

“Oh for the love of god, sometimes we choke each other, lightly, when we’re doing it. He happened to do it to me the night before the party and he didn’t take his rings off so they left bruises. Clearly I didn’t cover them up correctly.”

“Hot damn.” Sarah says. “You know I let Niall choke me sometimes, it’s pretty hot. It’s like just a little bit of pressure.”

“Exactly! And I do it to Harry too sometimes.”

“You choke him, you peg him, damn, he’s a trooper.” Rachel laughs.

“He does things to me too, it’s not all me. We’re just very comfortable with each other. I wouldn’t take Niall as the choking type.”

“The same could be said for you my friend.” Sarah says and you all giggle. “So…you have this apartment, you have a dog, when do you think he’s going to pop the question?”

“I have no idea, not anytime soon. I mean, I know it’ll happen eventually, but there’s no rush. I think we’re both happy with how things are right now.”

“How often do you talk about it?” Rachel asks.

“A little here and there. Like if I say if, he’ll always correct me and say when.” You start to tear up a bit. “I never thought…I never thought I’d ever be someone that someone else would want to marry and have a life with.” You full on start sobbing and the girls hold you. “Like…he’s my everything, you know? He’s truly my person. I never thought I’d get this lucky.”

“You deserve the whole world, Y/N.” Rachel says. “And Harry wants to give it to you, I know he does.” You look at her and smile.

“Yeah! And Niall says all the time that he’s never seen Harry like this with anyone. I think you two really sparked something within each other.”

Buster starts yipping and comes over to you. He licks on of your cheeks.

“Aw, mumma’s okay Buster.” You pull him into your lap.

The three of you talk a bit more, and then settle to watch the rest of the movie.

//

The next morning the boys get up early to go for a hike. Harry and Louis had shared a tent, and Louis’ laughter wakes Harry up.

“What?” He grumbles.

“Let me see, your head’s in my neck, and you’ve got an arm and a leg thrown over me. Someone miss their lady last night?”

“You know I’m a cuddly sleeper, this isn’t news.” He looks up at him. “What are yeh, suddenly not manly enough to have a cuddle with me?”

Louis wraps an arm around Harry and pulls him in closer. Niall unzips their tent and crawls in with them, going to Louis’ other side.

“Really glad this is a secluded area. Someone walkin’ by would think this is an orgy.” Niall jokes.

“Someone would just be jealous they couldn’t snuggle with three fine men such as ourselves. Now, I’ll give it five more minutes and then we need to get up.”

Harry took some pictures along the trail. He wondered if you’d ever go hiking with him. It took them about two hours to get the summit. They sit there for a while just taking in the view.

“Harry?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, mate?” Harry says, just biting into a banana.

“How do you think you’ll propose to Y/N when you do it? I feel like I had the campus thing with El planned for months.”

“I don’t know yet. I want her to feel really special, but I also want it to be a complete surprise, you know? I have a song in mind I’d like to have playin’ in the background, and I’ve thought a bit about what I might say, but I haven’t really thought of where yet.”

“You should recreate your first date.” Niall suggests.

“Can’t, she did that for my birthday. Besides, she’d suspect somethin’ was up.”

“True…you could tell her there’s some fancy party you have to go to so there’s your excuse to dress up. Oh! And you could just have her meet you wherever it is, so she could walk into the scene.”

“Wait, I’ve got it. Tell her you need her help for one of your freelance gigs. Then she won’t suspect a thing.” Louis says.

“That could actually work. I’d want it to be at night, outside I think. Lights strung up in some trees.” The three of them look off into the distance imagining it. “It’d be beautiful.”

//

The three of you head to Seth’s around noon. Your mom came over to watch Buster for the day. He’d be fine on his own, but you felt bad leaving him either way. The three of you looked cute, as always. You were wearing a pair of high waisted jean shorts, tennis shoes and a green crop top. Sarah had a casual sundress on, and Rachel had a pair of black shorts and blue crop top on. You all packed your bathing suits and towels, and headed out.

“Hey!” He says to you as you make your way to the backyard of his apartment. “It’s been forever!” He hugs all of you. “Help yourselves to whatever you want. You should know a few people here. Pool’s open and heated.”

“Seth, I brought some veggie burgers for myself for whenever you start grilling, where should I put them?”

“Toss them in that cooler near the grill.”

“Thanks.”

The truth was, both you and Sarah had slept with Seth in college, multiple times. It wasn’t weird for the three of you. A lot of time had passed, but the little memories still lingered.

The three of you start drinking and mingling with others at the party. Seth gets the grill going and he calls you over.

“Alright, how the fuck do I make these things?” He slings an arm over your shoulders.

“Well, and here’s the amazing part, there’s directions right on the package. Did you forget how to read, Sethy?” He rolls his eyes at you playfully.

“Okay smarty pants, can you read them to me while I get the other shit on here?”

“Sure.”

“Hey, smile you two!” You both turn around and smile at Sarah as she snaps a picture.

“Get in here too, selfie.” He says. Sarah holds up the phone and takes a selfie of the three of you.

“How are things with the two of you anyways?” He asks, throwing a veggie burger on the grill. “You both have jobs and boyfriends?”

“Yup! I’m a third grade teacher, and I’m dating one of Y/N’s best guy friends.”

“Yeah, and I work in marketing and I date my best guy friend’s guy friend.” You laugh. “What about you?”

“In between ladies at the moment, but I’ve got a good job so no complaints.” Rachel calls Sarah over for something, but you stay with Seth. “He treating you alright?”

“Yeah, his name is Harry by the way. Wanna see a picture?”

“Please, show me.” You smile and take out your phone. You show Seth some pictures of Harry and tell him all about him. “Seems like a great guy, Y/N.”

“He’s the best. I couldn’t be happier.”

“Well, I’m happy for you then. And for Sarah.” He smiles. “How about Rachel, how’s she?”

“She’s great. She’s dating Harry’s friend Mariah.”

“Wow, nice that all worked out.”

“Yeah!”

Later on, a ton of you get into the pool. Somehow you end up on Seth’s shoulders and you start playing chicken with some other friends. You were happy you wore your hair up in a bun. Sarah also took a turn on Seth’s shoulders while playing chicken. All in all it was a really great day.

You all dry off and change and hang out around the fire Seth started. One of his friends brought stuff to make s’mores. You couldn’t remember the last time you just shot the shit with your friends from college. It was nice.

//

Harry, Niall, and Louis found a bar to go have drinks at not too far from the campground. They were all looking to eat something a little more filling. Because they were at a restaurant, they all had wifi, so naturally they all started checking their phones.

“Who the fuck is Seth Rowan?” Harry asks.

“Who?”

“This guy, with his arms around Y/N and Sarah.” Harry shows Niall his phone. Another person had taken a picture of the three of you and tagged you in it.

“No idea, where’d you find that?”

“Facebook…I feel like I’ve seen his face before…” Harry goes onto your Instagram, and scrolls back deep. “Christ.” He runs his hand over his face and shows them. There was an old picture of you two kissing, on the mouth and the caption said, spin the bottle.

“Yikes…an ex-boyfriend?” Louis asks.

“No.” Niall says. “That’s an old friend from college. I actually think Sarah might’ve dated him.”

“Well, it fuckin’ looks like something happened. And they were all hanging out with him today. Did you know they were going to a party?”

“No, and clearly you didn’t either.”

“Maybe it was a last minute invite.”

“Or maybe they didn’t want us knowing they were…wait Rachel just posted on her story.”

Harry taps the video.

“You have to do it Y/N! You accepted the dare!”

“You all suck, fine!”

You get up and someone turns the music up louder. You turn around and bend over, shaking your ass. Then you pop your ass, twerking. You stand back up and take a bow as everyone cheers. You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket.

“Hope you all enjoyed that. You’re next Rachel, truth or dare?”

The video ends and Harry’s left there, mouth hanging open.

“Oh…my…god.” Is all he can say.

“Oh my god!” Niall shouts. “Look! Look!” He says showing them Sarah’s story that she made so only close friends could see.

“Sarah, I dare you to kiss Rachel.” Someone says.

“Jesus, as if anyone hasn’t see that before.” She shakes her head and looks at Rachel. “It’s up to you.”

“What the hell, why not?”

The two kiss, only for a few seconds, but the crowd cheers and Rachel curtsies as she sits back down.

“I…I…who are these people?! Certainly not our girlfriends.” Niall says.

“Are you seriously complaining that you just got to watch your girlfriend kiss another girl?” Louis asks. “You both need to chill out. They’re all just havin’ fun.”

“They didn’t tell us they were-“

“Do they need your permission to go out while you’re away?”

“No, but-“

“But nothin’. You two are idiots to get mad over this.”

“I don’t appreciate seein’ my girlfriend kiss someone else, another girl that happens to be her best friend doesn’t make it okay.” Niall huffs.

“I agree.”

Louis shakes his head at the two of them.

“Stupid thing to get mad about.”

The three finish up their drinks and dinner, and head back to the campground. They start up the fire and start drinking more.

“Wish we never looked at our phones. Who knows what else they’re doin’.” Niall says.

“Don’t worry about it, mate.” Louis whines. “It’s literally not a big deal.”

//

“Um…guys?” Rachel says in the uber on the way to your apartment. “Harry looked at my story of Y/N earlier…”

“And Niall saw mine…” Sarah says. “What the fuck, I thought they didn’t have service.”

“Maybe they went somewhere that did. Fuck, you know, I told you guys to be careful with what you posted. Now he’s seen me popping my ass for a group of people he doesn’t even know. Bad enough someone tagged us in a picture with Seth on Facebook. He probably saw that too.” You groan. “Great, I’m sure I’ll be in for it tomorrow.”

“Me too…”

The three of you get back to your apartment. Your mom had left Buster good to go and he was very happy to see the three of you. You all decide you’re done with drinking and just curl up to watch a movie.

//

Once again Harry and Louis wake up cuddling. The two laugh as they get up. They clean everything up and load up the car.

“Please don’t let what they did ruin such a great weekend, lads.”

“We’re not.” Niall says. “But they’re gettin’ a stern talkin’ to.”

“Yeah, very stern.”

Harry drops Louis off, hugging goodbye of course. Rachel had left your place, but Sarah stayed behind. You both figured if you were in trouble, then maybe you could be in trouble together. Harry tells Niall to come up with him, figuring that Sarah would still be over.

“So what’s our game plan?” Sarah asks you.

“I’m…going to jump on him and hug him and kiss him.”

“Okay, okay, that’s good. Soften him up a bit.”

“Maybe he’ll just take me right to the bedroom and we’ll fuck, then talk.”

“And what does that mean for me?”

“Take Niall home and fuck him there.”

You both hear the jingle of keys and you stand up. You hear the boys talking and then stop when they see the two of you standing there.

“You’re home! How was the-“ You start waling towards him, but they both cross their arms.

“Who’s Seth Rowan?”

“Why did you think it was a good idea to post a video of you and Rachel kissing?”

You and Sarah look at each other, then back to them. You both move a little closer to them. A scent hits your nose and your face scrunches.

“Why do you both smell like weed?” You ask crossing your arms.

“Answer our questions first.” Harry says. “When I asked you what your plans for this weekend, it didn’t seem like a party was in the mix.”

“Seth is an old friend from college.” Sarah starts.

“Just a friend? Because I’m pretty sure there’s more to it than that.” You gasp.

“What did you do, creep on my Instagram?”

“Maybe.”

You and Sarah both roll your eyes.

“Friend...with benefits.” Sarah says. “To both of us at one point.”

“You both were hookin’ up with the same guy?” Niall asks and you both nod. “Why?”

“I feel like the answer to that wouldn’t really help our case.” You say. “Look, Seth usually has a Memorial Day party, he invited us and we went. Everything that happened was a long time ago, no harm done.”

“So you shakin’ your ass for a group of people is no harm done?”

“I’m going to fucking kill, Rachel.” You groan. “We were playing truth or dare, what was I supposed to do?”

“Tell the truth about sometin’.”

“I couldn’t.”

“What did they ask you?” You look at Sarah. “Don’t look at her, look at me, what did they ask you that was so bad that you decided to do a dare instead?”

“They asked me…god…they asked me if…if I ever…please Harry, don’t make me say it, just know it was really bad.” He sighs.

“Fine…you know you could have told me you were goin’ to a party.”

“No because you would’ve questioned who Seth was and-“

“Of course I would have, and you could’ve just told me he was a friend from school, come on.”

“Sorry.”

“Niall…”

“I’m assuming they asked you a stupid question too?”

“Yes.”

“Can yeh please just not do that again? Friend or not, I really don’t want yeh kissin’ someone else.”

“Of course! I’m so sorry!” She lunges onto him and kisses all over his face.

You look up at Harry and give him your biggest eyes and pout. He sighs and opens his arms and you jump into them. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him.

“Love you both, but I’d like to give my man a proper hello now, so please leave.” They both giggle and head out.

“Where’s Buster?”

“Taking a little nappy.”

“Ah.”

Harry walks you down to the bedroom.

“We’re taking a shower, you wreak. Did you smoke?” He sets you down.

“Yes.”

“Harry…”

“Lou brought a joint with him, it’s no bid deal.”

“Alright.” You start taking your clothes off.

“Alright?”

“You’re letting my weekend slide, so I’m doing the same.”

“Okay.”

“So was it fun?”

“It was great, actually. We went for a hike, got to really see the stars at night. It was nice to just catch up and talk.”

“Yeah, same for us.”

Harry strips and turns the water on in the shower. He looks at you and squints.

“Why don’t you ever dance like that for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d love for you to put on a little show for me like that. Maybe a little lap dance sometime.” He grins.

“In your dreams.”

“Come on, it’ll be a new character for role play.”

“Maybe something CEO does for her assistant?”

“Exactly.”

“We’ll see.”

“Fine, then in the meantime, I’m going to fuck you into the tile.”

“Harry!” You squeal as he yanks you into the shower.

His hands are all over you and his fingers are up inside you before you know it. He nips at your neck as he pumps in and out of you.

“Fuck.” You breathe as his thumb works your clit. You reach to grab his cock and you start pumping it. “You know, this is the only cock I want.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, makes me feel so good. Want it all the time.”

He takes his fingers out of you and sucks on them. He grips one of your thighs and raises it over one of his hips. He thrusts into you. Your back arches against the cold tile. You hands sink into his shoulders as he rocks up into you.

“This is the only cunt I want.” Before you can’t bite your bottom lip, he’s already doing it for you, sucking it into his mouth. “This entire body, actually. It’s all mine, isn’t it?”

“All yours.” You smile at him and he smiles back. He pulls out and turns you around, entering from behind. Your entire front was pressed to the tile. Your head rolls back to his shoulder. “I love you, Harry, fuck!”

“I love, ngh, love you too.”

It doesn’t take either of you long to come. Harry throws his laundry right into the washer, and you both get cozy with Buster on the sofa.

“I really hope you know I didn’t intentionally try to make you upset or anything,”

“I know.” He strokes your back as you lay on him. “I don’t want you thinkin’ that I’m gonna blow up at you though.”

“I guess…because of how things were with my dad growing up, I feel like it’s easier or safer to leave pieced of information out. I know you’re not him, I wouldn’t be with you if you were anything like him, but sometimes those little things are there in the back of my head. I’d do anything to avoid a fight with him, so-“

“Babe.” You look up at him. “I know I get jealous sometimes, and that’s not always fair. But please don’t be afraid to tell me what you’re doin’. The most important thing to me is that you feel safe with me, always.” You nuzzle into his chest.

“I do feel safe with you, I promise. Some things are just hard to shake, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry your dad fucked you up so much.” He sighs and kisses the top of your head.

“Me too…but I can’t blame everything on him. If I did I’d be just like Bridget. I just know I have certain habits. Like, you know how I always line our shoes up so we don’t trip over them when we walk in?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I do that because of my dad. If there was a hair out place when he got home from work it was like World War three would erupt. I do certain things because I feel like he could just come in at any moment, which is stupid, I mean this is our home, not his.”

“S’not stupid…” You look up at him and kiss him.

“I am sorry though, I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were.” He smirks. “But it’s okay. I had a really nice time with my friends this weekend, and I suppose I’m glad you did too.” You kiss again.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, you know, just guy stuff.”

[jeranasblog]

1000 Dollar

Rating: E

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ Steve Rogers

Summary: Camboy Steve does a huge mistake and meets with one of his viewers, Bucky, who isn't only the most handsome man Steve had ever seen, but also the most dangerous person in New York. If Steve could only resist his charm.

Check tags on Ao3 (Camboy/ Mob boss AU)

Read on Ao3

1000 Dollar? Steve choked when he saw the amount of money ‘CallMeDaddy’ had donated a few seconds ago. It must have looked bizarre. He had just deepthroated his favorite dildo, four inches long with a slight curve to the right, without even coughing once and the only evidence of his hard work had been a tear that ran down his chin. But a simple donation was enough for him to lose it and he choked on air. Amazing.

 “I think you made a mistake, Daddy.” Steve was a good boy, he would send the money back if the man had accidentally added a zero too much, but the amused comment of ‘CallMeDaddy’ freaked him out even more. 

 Don’t worry your pretty little head, Sugar. Just ride your black toy and I’ll give you another thousand.

And Steve, the selfless boy that he was, obeyed immediately and moaned when he felt the tip of the black toy breaching his rim. The chat was going crazy. Messages were flying in, a few obscene, a few lovely, and Steve smiled while he let out the loudest moan of the day so far. It might have even been his donator’s username, but the pleasure of being stretched open clouded his mind. 

 Steve felt wanted. He loved the attention of others, loved their filthy comments and encouraging messages, but what he loved even more was the money. There was no shame in being a camboy, especially because his job paid extraordinary well, and Steve enjoyed every second of it. It was people like ‘CallMeDaddy’ that made his job even more fun.

 Exactly as promised, the man sent him more money, and Steve’s eyes rolled back when he heard the incoming donation sound. The thought of being wanted made his body burn and he whimpered when the next thrust hit his sweet spot full force. He definitely had to thank the man properly. 

 Although Steve would love to go on, he pulled out the dildo reluctantly and turned around until he was kneeling in front of the camera, his knees spread. It was too early to come just yet, so he forced his body to calm down and focused on his chat again. 

 So beautiful, Sugar. Such a greedy little boy. Feel free to moan Bucky when you come.

 Bucky, huh. There was something about ‘CallMeDaddy’ that drew Steve in. It might have been the money, but there was more, a certain self-confident attitude that made his legs shake and his hole twitch. In his imagination, the man was huge, broad shoulders and a confident smirk, everything Steve was crazy for. 

 When Steve closed his eyes he could almost imagine Bucky was the only one in the chat, watching him intrigued while Steve squirmed on the bed. Suddenly, he wanted the man so badly that he sobbed about the feeling of being empty and fumbled blindly for the toy to press it back in. Don’t get him wrong, Steve was a needy bottom, but today he craved it even more, crying out Bucky’s name when the plastic tip grazed his sweet spot. 

 Usually, Steve followed the chat closely, trying to focus on the suggestions of his viewers during getting off. He moaned their names, shifted his body when they asked for it, and gave them the best view possible. Today, however, Steve saw nothing but Daddy’s comments standing out of the blur of his chat and he lost his control how he usually only lost it outside of his streams. 

 I’ve never seen you so wrecked before, Sugar. Am I doing this to you? Is my money making your pretty little cock leak and your hungry hole throb? Spread your legs for me, Sugar. Show me how beautiful you look when you come. 

 To Steve’s own embarrassment, this was it. He came screaming, crying out Bucky’s name mixed with praises of how good his Daddy felt inside of him. His body was twitching for minutes and he was close to passing out. Steve was used to coming back to himself quickly after an orgasm, so he could say goodbye to his viewers and shut down the stream, but today he had to force himself to get up already. 

 His outro was shaky, he stared at the camera with a blissed-out expression and a dopey smile while he thanked all of them for their time and money. When the cam was finally turned off, Steve fell back on the mattress, not even caring that he laid in his own spunk. There was something about ‘CallMeDaddy’ that could get pretty dangerous. 

 ~*~

 Steve lasted twelve hours before he sent Bucky the first private message. It would have been even less, but after the mind-blowing orgasm, he had slept eight hours straight, and now he was exceptionally rested. He wasn’t really sure if Bucky would reply, but it was worth a shot.

 SweetBoy: Hey, Bucky. I just wanna say ty for the money again :)

 Immediately after he had pressed send, Steve got nervous. What if Bucky didn’t want to message him? What if he only wanted to watch him during his streams? But his worries were unnecessary because the reply came not even ten minutes later.

 CallMeDaddy: Hey, Sugar. You’re welcome. Your performance was extraordinary yesterday. Tell me, did you think about Daddy when you came on your cute little toy?

 Even though Steve was used to filthy comments, he still blushed. There was just something about Bucky that made him feel like a bashful virgin and he could feel his cock twitch when he thought about the other man. Deciding Bucky had earned a treat, Steve opened his camera and took a picture of himself, pouting and blushing in lingerie. He pressed send before he could change his mind. 

 CallMeDaddy: Oh, Sugar. Is this just for me? Am I the only one seeing this picture?

 SweetBoy: Only you, Daddy <3

 CallMeDaddy: God, you drive me crazy, Steve. I want to meet you and fuck you in my bed until you’re screaming on my cock. Imagine what it would feel like, squirming on a real cock instead of your plastic ones.

 Oh, god. Steve could feel his erection growing at rapid speed and he whimpered at the thought of being alone in his apartment, empty and yearning for a man he didn’t know. His behavior was reckless, he shouldn’t even talk to his viewers in private, but his sanity was washed away by the need to be claimed. Still, there was nothing that could justify his next action.

 SweetSugar: Do you live close to New York, Bucky? Do you want to meet me someday?

 As soon as he read the message again, Steve paled. He hadn’t only asked a stranger to meet him, he had also told him the city he lived in. His hands started to sweat and he tried to delete the message before Bucky would see it, but no such luck. The man was faster. 

 CallMeDaddy: I feel honored that you offer to meet me, Sugar, but you should be more careful on the internet. Not everyone respects your wishes and limits. Still, I can’t say no to the offer. I’m dreaming about meeting you for weeks, Stevie. What do you think about meeting me at the Italian restaurant on the corner of 5th and 57th? 

 He could still back out. He could just apologize, thank Bucky for his money and tell him his behavior had been reckless, but Steve had always been too naive. Blended by arousal, attraction and the simple need to be wanted, he signed his potential downfall.

 SweetSugar: Can I meet you there tomorrow 7pm?

 CallMeDaddy: I would be honored, Sugar. I’ll wear a red tie. 

 What had he done?

 ~*~

 The restaurant Bucky had suggested wasn’t hard to find. From the outside, it looked pretty normal, maybe a little fancier than Steve was used to. He looked down, insecure about his chosen clothes. Sure, the blue pants hugged his ass deliciously and the white shirt showed off his lean body, but he didn’t wear a tie or a suit jacket. Before he could second guess his clothes, or even second guess the whole meeting, Steve opened the door. 

 As soon as he opened the door, Steve’s nervousness came back full force. He had expected a busy restaurant on a Friday evening, but there was only a single table in the middle of the room. Two men with heavy guns stood on the corner of the room while a third man sat on one of the two chairs next to the table. He smiled gently at Steve. 

 Steve had never seen a man more beautiful in his entire life. He had a handsome face, a strong jawline, and eyes so piercingly blue that Steve’s legs started to tremble. His body was packed with tons of tons of solid muscles, straining the black suit that he wore. Everything of the man screamed dominance and Steve had to fight the urge to fall to his knees. His gaze wandered lower, over the blood-red tie down to the thick thighs and the bulge in the middle of his pants. Was the man hard? 

 Steve shook his head to get his sanity back, but every time his gaze fell onto the man’s lap, Steve saw himself bouncing on it. Wasn’t he concerned about anything a few seconds before?

 “Before you panic, Sugar, let me explain.” Definitely Bucky. “Do you know my complete name?” Steve shook his head, still distracted from the view in front of him. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.”

James Buchanan Barnes. There was something familiar about it and Steve needed a second before his eyes widened in shock. Oh god, he was alone in a room with the head of New York’s mafia. The panic from before couldn’t be compared with the fear he felt now. He should have known that meeting with a stranger who watched his stream and donated tons of money wasn’t a good idea, but there was nothing he could do now besides run. He took a step back, slowly, hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice, but of course, the Mob boss did.

 “Steve, please don’t run. I won’t hurt you. Just take a seat.”

 Whatever his mother had taught Steve, self-preservation wasn’t it. He was drawn in by the man’s command, his head nodding automatically while his legs brought him closer to the dangerous man. He took a seat, wide-eyed and scared, but nevertheless, he didn’t run. 

 “I don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t hurt my family first,” Bucky told him with a smile and even though Steve had nothing but his word, he visibly relaxed.  “I’ve watched your stream for months, Sugar. Seeing such a beautiful and delicate thing made me want more, Steve. I could have taken you months ago, but I didn’t want to validate your trust.”

 Steve swallowed and nodded slowly. That made sense, but he still wasn’t sure if being in the same room with New York’s mob boss was a good idea. Still, there was something about Bucky that pulled him in and he couldn’t run. On the contrary, he had to force himself not to climb in Bucky’s lap. 

 “What do you wanna eat, Sugar?” Bucky asked and pushed the menu closer to him. Steve picked it up reluctantly and opened the first page, only to realize that the words blurred in front of his eyes. He couldn’t concentrate on food right now.

 “Can you order?” Steve’s voice was still shaking a little, but it was stronger than he had dreaded. 

 A pleased smile spread on Bucky’s face and Steve could see a hungry spark in the man’s eyes. Fuck, he hadn’t thought about the submissive aspect of the question and now he got paid back with an aroused Mob boss and his own twitching cock in his tight pants. Steve blushed. 

 “Oh, Sugar,” Bucky purred while he licked his lips. “Don’t do this to me. I want to get to know you, want to take your fear away and not fuck you in the middle of a restaurant.” Steve blushed even more. “Lovely.”

 You know what? Screw it. Steve decided just in this moment, that would make the best out of the situation. Bucky didn’t make any attempts to kill him and even if he’d change his mind, Steve couldn’t stop him anyway. The mobster was friendly, attentive, and head-spinning hot and it would be a shame if Steve would pass the opportunity to get a good fuck. Regardless of whose cock he was riding in the end. 

 So Steve played nice, trying to forget that the man in front of him was the most dangerous person in New York. He enjoyed the meal, enjoyed the conversation, and to his own horror, Steve realized that spending time with the Mob boss was quite fun. Steve talked about his friend and his mother, his college classes and his job. Bucky, on the other hand, talked about his childhood and everything he wanted to do to Steve in bed. They didn’t mention Bucky’s job once and after some time had passed, Steve saw him as nothing but a beautiful man. His cock was almost constantly throbbing in his pants. 

 ~*~

 When the dessert came, Steve was already pleasantly full, but he couldn’t resist the homemade vanilla ice cream Bucky had ordered for him. It was delicious, melting on his tongue and Steve couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped him. He looked up, spoon still in his mouth, hoping that Bucky hadn't noticed but the burning gaze was proof enough. 

 “Do you do this on purpose, Sugar?” Bucky growled, his hands clenched to fists. “If you wanna get fucked, tell Daddy and stop sucking on your spoon like a little whore.”

 God. How did Bucky know humiliation got him going? The little moan turned into a choked sob and suddenly, Steve was squirming on his chair. He hadn’t wanted to rile the man up with his little stunt, but now that he saw the raw hunger in Bucky’s eyes, he didn’t want to hold back either. Just like during his streams, Steve lost his insecurities and only his neediness stayed behind.

 “Daddy, I feel so empty without something in my hole. Can you please help me? I need it.”

 Bucky growled ferally. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and longed over the table, lifting Steve into his arms. Steve squealed in surprise and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s broad shoulders, his legs crossing behind the muscular back. Fuck, there was a huge bulge pressing against his ass. Steve whimpered when he realized Bucky hadn’t even been hard when Steve had ogled his pants earlier. It was way bigger. Whatever he had expected, the reality was a pleasant surprise. 

 Steve moaned and wiggled on Bucky’s arms, his body rubbing against the other man’s cock. It felt so good, and Steve couldn’t think about anything else than the thick cock, splitting him open. Maybe he would be allowed to ride him? Or maybe Bucky would put him on all fours, fuck him like the eager little whore Steve was.

 “Sugar, stop moving,” Bucky’s voice was deep but firm, leaving Steve no other option than to obey. “I’m so close to taking you on the table. Let me get you out of here.”

 Knowing that Bucky was losing it because of him made Steve preen in happiness. Some grinding, a few heated gazes and New York’s most dangerous man could only think about burying himself inside of Steve. The feeling was heady and Steve forced his body to stay still. He wanted to show Bucky he was worth it, wanted to show him that he could be a good buy, even though his hole was crying for his Daddy.

 “Daddy.” 

 Steve couldn’t stop the word from coming out and he hid his face against Bucky’s shoulder afterward. This couldn’t be true, he couldn’t be that easy, even though Bucky was his walking fantasy. Every rational thought, every ounce of self-preservation, and every little doubt was washed away, replaced by an urgent need that made him go with Bucky voluntarily. 

 He didn’t protest when Bucky carried him to a fancy car, black with bulletproof glass; he didn’t protest when a driver took them to an unfamiliar location. Fuck, Steve didn’t even try to argue when Bucky pulled him out of the car in front of the biggest mansion Steve had ever seen. Instead, he clung to Bucky’s chest, whimpering while Bucky walked upstairs, opening the door to an extravagant bedroom. 

 When Bucky let him down in the middle of a huge four-poster bed, Steve’s head finally started to clear a little and his doubts came back full force. What was he doing here? Bucky was a criminal and he had rubbed himself all over the man like a needy little whore. Looks aren't everything and even though it was easy to talk to Bucky, they hadn’t even talked about his job yet. What was such a rich man even wanting from Steve?

 Bucky seemed to sense his distress. “Hey, Steve.” Although he was still hard as a rock in his pants, the urgency disappeared and he pulled the distressed blonde on his lap. “Have you changed your mind? That’s fine. Nothing has to happen today.”

 There was no guarantee that Bucky spoke the truth, so Steve watched him disbelieving, trying not to show how much the innocent touch soothed him. Sitting on Bucky’s lap felt amazing, protective and anchoring, but it made him forget that the man was the real threat here.

 “What do you wanna do to me?”

 Bucky chuckled slightly and pressed an innocent kiss on Steve’s hair. “Everything you allow me, Sugar. I can force you on your knees, eat your tight little hole until you’re screaming. I can fuck you open slowly, show you something bigger than the toys you’re experimenting with. But I can also cuddle you in my lap and watch TV. It’s up to you, Sugar.”

 Steve hesitated. The truth is, he wanted to be fucked. Slowly, he started to believe that Buck wouldn't kill him. Whatever the man did during work, he wouldn’t kill innocent little twinks, but Steve felt bad about wanting it so much. He had always been a needy person, there was a reason he had started streaming a few years back, but the desire had never been so overwhelming as it was with Bucky. What if he would lose himself in it?

 “Let’s make a deal, Sugar. You can always back out, all right? Just say ‘red’ and I’ll stop everything we’re doing. What do you think?”

 Steve nodded slowly. Yes, that would work. Bucky had already shown that he would stop, even when his own pleasure was neglected, and Steve trusted himself enough to safeword if Bucky went too far. The smile he got in return for his trust was beautiful and finally, Steve’s doubts shut down for the evening. He could ponder about his decision again tomorrow.

 Bucky pulled him closer so their chests touched. His hand wandered over Steve’s body, caressing his arms, his back, his shoulders until it was finally tangled in the blonde’s hair. Steve moaned when a firm grip forced his head to fall back, and he moaned again when wet lips touched his for the first time. 

 In movies, first kisses were romantic, chaste and sweet, a symbol of how much two people cared for each other, but Steve’s reality was the complete opposite. Bucky’s lips were rough, sucking on Steve’s and he felt a nibble of teeth on his lower lip, coaxing him to open his mouth. As soon as Steve gave him permission to come in, Bucky took over.

 He plundered every inch of Steve’s mouth, biting, sucking, and bruising his lips until they were swollen, glistening with their shared spit. It was no nice kiss, it was punishing and dominant, a sign of Bucky’s control over him and Steve loved nothing more than giving in, letting the man take over.

 His cock was twitching in his tight pants every time Bucky bit on his lips and he moaned from the obscene noises that they made. Bucky was still gripping his hair, was still forcing Steve to take him and when a hand on his jaw forced Steve to stay still, the first pathetic whine left his lips. 

 The sound was fueling Bucky’s arousal even more and Steve could feel him twitch against his ass. “God, Sugar, you’re so needy,” Bucky said after he’d pulled back reluctantly, leaving Steve’s lips glistening and his eyes rolling back in a fucked out expression. “Such a cock hungry little whore. Come on, baby. Take off your clothes. Show Daddy what he’s working with.” 

 Steve whimpered when he climbed off of Bucky’s lap, his pants already halfway undone. He couldn’t wait to be close to the man again, eager for anything Bucky would give him, but when he had taken his pants and shirt off, Bucky stopped him from stripping completely. 

 “Do you want to kill me?” Bucky’s gaze was fixed on the pastel blue panties that barely covered Steve’s crotch and he opened his own zipper, pulling out the huge erection Steve had only felt before. “Look at me, look at what you’re responsible for.”

 Bucky didn't even need to ask him because Steve was staring at his cock anyway. It was a vision, so much bigger than Steve’s, with an angry red tip that screamed for someone to lick on it. Steve didn’t even hear anymore that he was moaning, he didn’t even notice that he started to drool, eager to get a share of this beautiful cock, wherever Bucky would let him. 

 “Please, Daddy. Please, make me take it. Stretch me, Daddy. I need you in my hole.” 

 A chuckle echoed through the room and Steve could see Bucky smirk. “Sugar, don’t you think it’s too big for you? Taking it completely at your first try?”

 Steve couldn’t do anything but stare at Bucky wide-eyed. The man’s doubts hurt and he felt himself tearing up. Did his Daddy think he couldn’t take it? Steve could, he was the best boy, a perfect boy and he could damn well take his Daddy when he wanted to. He felt ridiculous when a tear ran down his chin, but he couldn’t stop feeling rejected. 

 “Daddy?” His voice wavered and finally, Bucky seemed to notice that something was wrong.

 “Oh, Sugar, what happened?” He pulled Steve onto his lap until the blonde was sobbing against his shoulder. “Tell Daddy what made you upset.”

 Steve lowered his gaze, ashamed of his needy behavior. Here he was, sitting in Bucky’s lap and crying because the man thought he couldn’t take his cock. It was pathetic, but the hurt felt so real that Steve couldn’t stop the tears.

 “I can t-take you, I promise.” His voice was high-pitched and thin. “I p-promise, Daddy. I’ve taken so many toys. I swear it will fit.”

 Realization flickered in Bucky’s eyes and a dark expression took over his face. Steve had never seen such hunger before, but instead of running, he surrendered himself to it. 

 “I’m sorry I’ve hurt your feelings, Sugar.” Bucky didn’t sound apologetic but turned on. “You’re a good boy, I haven’t thought. Just do Daddy a favor and turn onto your stomach. Show Daddy that you’re right.”

 Steve preened with Bucky’s words and he scrambled to obey, hurrying to roll on his stomach. His face was pressed into the mattress while he raised his ass into the air, presenting his most vulnerable part for his Daddy’s gaze. Determination to show his Daddy how strong he could be, how good, filled him and he let his hands wander behind his back, pulling his panties to one side and revealing his tight hole that was gagging for Bucky’s touch. 

 If there had been any self-control left, Bucky lost it at least by now. Seeing the tight pucker of his beautiful boy the first time without a screen between them, made him go feral and before he could even process what he was doing, Bucky had already fetched the lube he stored in his night drawer and slicked up his finger. Steve was begging beautifully for it, squirming although he hadn’t even been touched yet. 

 The first finger that nudged against his tight little rim made Steve cry in satisfaction. He shuddered and squirmed, forcing himself not to push back on the finger. His Daddy hadn’t allowed him to move yet, and he would hold back as long as he could. His obedience got rewarded with the first finger that breached him open. 

 It went smoothly. Steve was used to relaxing his hole and he concentrated on the sensation of being filled. He was wordlessly begging for more, clenching around the slick finger and encouraging Bucky to give him more, to give him everything. Thankfully, Bucky gave him too immediately, stretching him and preparing him for his Daddy’s cock. 

 Steve whimpered and moaned, sobbed around his Daddy’s digits, and pleaded with him to go deeper. The arousal in his body was fueled by Bucky’s encouraging noises and gentle praise. You look so good, Sugar. You open up so easily. Look how well you take it, Steve. 

 His panties were probably ruined by now, dripping with the slick Bucky spread between his legs, but Steve couldn’t care less. He whined like a whore, begging for one more finger, for one more inch. 

 When Bucky was four fingers in, Steve’s pink little rim stretched obscenely around the intruders, Steve was close to losing it. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Bucky moved inside of him, grazing his sweet spot once in a while, but it wasn’t enough; it wasn’t his cock. 

 “Please, Daddy. It hurts. I need your cock. ‘s not enough. Gimme your cock, I can take it.”

 Bucky roared and before Steve couldn’t even bat an eye, he was turned around, his Daddy onto him. He could hear when the fabric of his panties tore and a second later he felt something big nudging against his rim. Finally. He sobbed with the thought of being fucked soon and he quickly pulled his legs against his chest. 

 “Open up for me, Sugar,” Bucky growled while he pressed the tip of his thick cock against Steve’s hole. “I know you can take it. Let me in. Let Daddy claim you properly.”

 Just a little more pressure, a little bit more lube, and when Bucky tried to enter him the next time, his tip plopped in. Steve went limp. He had been needy the whole afternoon, empty, hurting and gagging for it and he can’t even remember how often he had cried for Bucky’s cock today. But the minute he finally got what he craved, Steve was floating. 

 Everything was numb, everything but the thick cock thank sunk into him, opening him up inch by inch. Steve had never been so full before, and even though it burned, even though his abused hole throbbed in pain, Steve had never been so happy before. Here, split open on his Daddy’s cock, was nothing but pleasure. 

 “Look at you, baby,” Bucky cooed while Steve struggled to take in the words. “Such an eager little slut, begging and screaming for me, but once you’re stuffed, you go all sweet on me. You’re a cockstupid little thing, Stevie.”

 Yes. Steve nodded, the pleasure too overwhelming to form words. He basked in the feeling of being stuffed full, happy to die like this. Bucky was moving over him, his cock thrusting in and out of Steve’s abused rim and Steve never wanted it to stop. This was what he had always craved when he rode his toys alone in the bedroom, watched by countless strangers. Someone else to take over his pleasure.

 Steve knew both of them wouldn’t last long, Bucky’s cock was already twitching inside of him and the knowledge that such a powerful man was gone for him, made his walls clench even tighter around the thick cock. When Bucky hit his sweet spot multiple times in a row, Steve heard a distant scream, only to realize it had been himself. Tears were running down his face and he could do nothing but hold on while Bucky claimed his body. 

 The orgasm came slowly, without a hand on his leaking cock. It was the most intense orgasm Steve had ever had and his vision blurred when the wave hit him full force. It was too much, too much pleasure, too much stretch, too much Bucky, but at the same time, it was just right. His muscles clenched around the thick cock, begging for something to fill him up. 

 He had earned this, he had earned Bucky stuffing him full and when the first splash of the man’s seed painted his insides, Steve grinned dopily. He was a good boy, he had made his Daddy come. 

 “You’re perfect, Stevie. I couldn’t have imagined it. First boy to take me at the first try.” The words made Steve preen. “Your little hole is sore, baby.”

 Steve only grunted. He didn’t care about it, didn’t care that his Daddy had fucked him sore. On the contrary, he loved the reminder of Bucky’s lust. 

 Bucky turned him until he laid on his stomach, spreading his cheeks to get a good look at his abused hole. He trailed a finger over the edge, pressing slightly until his come was running down Steve’s thighs. The vision made him groan. 

 “Oh, Sugar. I don’t think I can stay away for long. It looks so pretty, all red and swollen.”

 The thought should have made Steve run, but Bucky’s endless hunger was soothing something inside of him. Steve was wanted, and if Bucky wanted to fuck him again, he could certainly take it. There were no doubts, all of them fucked out by the most handsome man Steve had ever seen. 

 He could only hope that he wouldn’t regret it the next day.

[implexedactions]

I will protect you

You are a citizen of Dunwall, under the reign of Corvo Attano, the ruthless emperor. He lost everyone who mattered to him, and turned cold as a result. What happens when he stumbles upon you? 

(A/N): Just played through the first game recently, and now I'm in love with the game (and also Corvo). I watched someone play through the 2nd game AGES ago and read about the Emperor Corvo ending and got very excited, so I wrote this! This does feature kidnapping, although nothing sexual happens, but the non-con tag didn't feel right, so this is just a warning if you're not one for possessive behaviour, protectiveness or things like that.

If there is a Tag/Content Warning I forgot to add, PLEASE tell me!

Find me and the fic on Ao3

It was a dark, stormy night in Dunwall. The city was in ruins, which seemed to be the status quo. You were scavenging a ruined building, close to the royal district. You could hear music and party coming from inside. You envied them, a lot. As a child you always imagined being in the royal district, living the life of a noble person. Emily was a kind and wise ruler then, after Corvo had silently and mercifully changed the course of history, Dunwall grew brighter every day.

Then a usurper almost killed Emily, and something within Corvo broke. He ruthlessly killed everyone, civilian or enemy alike, on his way back to the throne. He didn’t even free Emily, saying that, at least when she was in stone, he could always protect her. Almost losing everything for a second time really changes a person, you guessed. He became the new emperor of Dunwall and a dark age settled upon the land. The city was falling down around him, with brute force and dark power replacing the subtle and wise ways of Emily.

He was renowned for retaking the throne for Emily after her mother’s death with not a drop of blood spilled on either side. In retaking the throne a second time, it appeared as if he was trying to make up for lost time, the blood of civilians, guards, and nobles, all spilt through the land. It wasn’t even that bad in Dunwall, Karnaca had been thrown into disarray and was essentially a ghost town.

You realised it was probably late, and decided to just walk home, leaving the shell of the house to wither away another day. The storm raged as you walked home, staring up at the walls to the throne room. You failed to notice the man staring down at you.

---

The next morning, you awoke to your slum-like apartment. With Corvo in charge, the nobles were all thrown out, so basically everyone was living in cold, dreary, apartments. The sense of karma from seeing nobles starve to death did little to help your disposition though. You moved around the apartment, eating a meagre breakfast, before closing the window that blew open during the storm while you were sleeping. Emerging onto the damp street, you walked to the market stalls, hoping to sell or barter the stolen goods you collected the previous night.

The marketplace was busy, even the now passed storm hadn’t dissuaded many people from coming. Then someone called out to you. A man wearing an almost skull like mechanical mask walked up to you. It seemed familiar but you couldn’t place a finger on it.

“You have a gold pendant? Stole it from that blue apartment near the royal district, 3rd floor, bedroom, red jewel in the centre? 10pm yesterday?” he said, bluntly

“So what if I do?” you responded, cautious of anyone who knew your exact movements. He was correct of course, but you didn’t need him knowing that.

“200 gold”

You gasped, 200 gold was more than you expected, you could eat well for weeks with that much. Safety be damned, you needed that money!

“Deal, thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me”

“Oh, I think I do, my little jewel” he said handing you the money, his hand lingering in yours before he stepped back into the madness of the street, gone from your sight.

With the rather rich creep gone, you bought a few rations from the stalls then walked home. Fingers on the money in your pocket constantly, determined to not lose it.

---

The window was open again. That was the first thing you noticed as you walked in. You put the money in your safe, then walked over, cautious to inspect it. The lock was forced open, that much was clear, there were signs of someone trying to get in.

You froze, the window was open, if someone was trying to get in, then they HAD gotten-

Suddenly, two hands grabbed you from behind, and as if aided by magic, you passed out almost instantly.

---

You awoke to chains around your ankles and wrists. A noble room, with a roaring fire across from the room. It seemed to have a double bed, with a large window behind it. It was night, and there were large shadows being cast by the fire. Crawling as far as you could to the window, you looked outside. There was a new storm raging outside, so visibility was low. You were high up however, very high up.

“Hello! Is anyone there? Help!” you shouted

No one replied. You walked as far as your chains allowed. Which wasn’t very far, there wasn’t anything within your reach. Above the fire was a very large painting of Corvo Attano. Honestly, you hated him at this rate. If he didn’t go on that bloody rampage in Karnaca, things could’ve been so much better for Dunwall. If Emily was queen again things would be so much better

“Fucking bastard…” you say to the painting.

“Now that’s not a nice way to speak to your kind host, is it?”

Your blood ran cold. That reply could only mean one thing, you weren’t an idiot. You turned to the shadowy corner where Corvo Attano stood, seemingly invisible unless you knew he was there, like you unfortunately did.

He stepped out of the corner and walked over to you.

“What do you want with me?!”

“Oh a lot of things, all of them good. Right now just one thing, your hand in marriage” he said, like it wasn’t the weirdest request imaginable

“What?! No? Of course not! Are you an idiot?” you screamed in response, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“Oh, it wasn’t really a question, more a statement. You see, since I am the emperor, the abbey will basically do whatever I like, including allowing the forced marriage of two people…” he trailed off.

“If it makes you feel better, my sweet jewel, you’ll have the best life. The nicest things in the empire, every whim catered to, people will have to obey you”, he continued sweetly, “otherwise they’d have to answer to me, and not many people stand up to me and live” he said with a sudden change in tone, the threat in the air apparent as all hell.

“Why me?”

“Well, your fine looks are part of your charm, of course. But your kindness is the main reason. When I was on the run, helping Emily to retake the throne, I got trapped by those guards near the estate district. You helped me, remember? You looked at me hiding, about to be found by the guards, then ran up and told them you saw a weeper attacking one of their hounds. They ran off, determined to save the bloodthirsty hound. You saved me, and at the time, I was merely grateful, it was just another reason of why I should save and protect this accursed city.”

“You see, the empress was always so kind, it was the reason I fell in love with her. And one of the many reasons I tried to encourage the trait in Emily. I was so naïve then, thinking kindness and compassion could win out. Then Delilah Copperspoon happened, and I had to face reality”. He paused and looked away.

“Everyone I love would be ripped away from me. It was just a fact. My kindness only let others kill those I loved. My desire for a less chaotic world forced me away from the empress for the six months that led to her being killed. And then Emily…”

He starts choking up a bit, and you’re taken aback. The evil emperor Corvo has a heart…well a twisted one admittedly. You ARE currently being kidnapped, and he’s done horrible things to the empire. It’s not really an excuse.

“Emily was still so…. I had to leave her in the stone, it was the only way I could protect her, by becoming as ruthless as I needed to”

You prod a bit. “Couldn’t you free her from the stone, it's not like she’s gone forever. Things can still go back to normal, right?”

His fist slams into the wall as he stares at you with fire in his eyes.

“NO! Things can never go back to normal! The world is cruel and unkind, and it will only keep taking from those who find themselves caught in its sights! This is the only way I can protect her!”

You back yourself into a corner, huddling and hoping he doesn’t hurt you.

“But when I saw you the other day, I was reminded of your act of kindness. I wanted to help you, to protect you. I broke into your house that night, while you slept to figure out how to best help you. I only meant to help you, that was all it was at first. As I stared at you while you slept, well, I couldn’t help but wonder if you could eventually warm up to me…”

“But then after I gave you that money, at the markets? That was me by the way. A man saw, and he tried to follow you with a knife… I stopped him, of course, his body now litters the sidewalk. But it showed me that you wouldn’t be safe out there, I couldn’t just help you by giving you gold and gifts. I HAD to protect you, to save you from the storm the world had become. And from there I think you can guess what happened.”

You stare at him, shocked at the events unfolding in front of you. You try to reason with him

“Please, I’ll give the money back, just let me go! I don’t want this!”

“Oh my sweet jewel, I don’t care what you think, really. I know how the world is, and I know I must protect you above everything else. When it comes down to it, my desire to protect you overrides your feelings about the matter. It is safe in here, where I can protect you. It is not safe out there, where I cannot protect you. It’s not that complicated of an idea.”

“But, surely the empress wouldn’t want you to kidnap-”

He suddenly appears by your side, a knife against your throat.

“If you value your life, you will never speak of her again. She was- is important to me, she did so much for me and the empire only for the empire to double-cross her. I made the mistake of being forgiving once, and after Emily, I vowed to never make that same mistake again. I have powers far beyond your comprehension, jewel, it would be unwise to cross me. I adore you, but that will only get you so far”

You try not to move, his sudden teleporting across the room was shocking. It was like he froze time.

“Okay, I won’t mention…her again, okay? Just, get that knife away from my neck, please?”

“Of course, my jewel. Now, I can’t trust you right away, as explained by the chains. But I swear they are a temporary measure if you behave. I have to go meet with, and then kill, some nobles requesting aid, okay? But I’ll be back in an hour. Okay, my sweet jewel? I will protect you, that is my promise”

[gloriousprofessorhan]

blue flowers

it was a fun game until she’s gone.

re-upload ‘blue flowers’ from AFF 2019

“Babe, where are you?”

“On my way back home.” He said.

“I called you.”

“I know, I know, I was busy with all people who trying to be chatty with me.”

“Replying my message would only cost you less than one minute!” 

You hear a low grunt from the other line.

“Oh, you’re annoyed? You’re annoyed because I’m nagging while you were gone MIA for two days?”

“I wasn’t MIA, ok? Yesterday I was on the plane from Dubai, and today I was on a big meeting and I told you I’s have a charity party at night. You know how is it at the party. People trying to talk to me and I can’t be seen being busy with my phoen just because my girlfriend is too clingy.”

You paused, now he thinks you’re clingy.

“Alright, good night.” You hang the call, there’s no need to continue the argument, he would never pamper you anyway. Then you saw at your wrist, your smart watch is showing a blue flower, an icon to remind you to breathe.

And you breathe.

-

It was the summer party your parents made in your summer house. Many colleagues and family friends are invited, and you’re being introduced by one of your cousin to this young businessman, got an adorable smile, quite chatty, and handsome as hell.

You two very quick got into a deeper talk that night, you’re captured by how this guy got everything in a perfect amount. To be honest, as the daughter of a rich businessman, you’re tired of guys who treat you like a fine china. And after few dates, and two kisses, you two decided to date exclussively.

Baekhyun sighs when you hang up the phonecall, he’s looking at someone sitting across him at the lounge. Still at the charity party.

“Why you’re lying?” she asked. She’s Jieun, a client turned to friend. You knew her but never met her, Baekhyun also not very close to her but she seems to like talking to Baekhyun in any occassion. Hopely only like to talk to him because he’s such a smart guy, not into something more.

Baekhyun shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know why I’m lying…”

“Will she be mad if she knew you’re still at the party?”

“I just want her to stop asking where am I.”

“She’ll stop asking when you give her answer.” She said again.

Baekhyun sip his champagne. 

“Why are you being like this?” she asked.

“I don’t know… maybe I’m just bored, I need a getaway.” He replied.

“Then ask her to go on a weekend short getaway with you.”

He scoffed, “his parents are too old fashioned to let her go on a vacation with his boyfriend.”

“Really??”

“Yeah… they’re a strict family.” Baekhyun swirl the glass, “I mean, she can go on a vacation with me but not only two of us.”

“Oh, like family retreat?” she chcukles.

Baekhyun laughs, “silly, right? What are they afraid of? That me and my grilfriend would sleep in the same room doing whatever couples do?” he scoffing again, “if we want to do that, we don’t have to go on a vacation, fool, I’m just gonna invite her to my house and problem solved.”

“But, is it really the problem? Mean that you never slept with her before?”

Baekhyun snickered, “of course I had! I told you, there’s no use on watching us during holiday, because we’ve done sex if that’s what her family was anxious about.”

“Is her family religious?”

“I don’t think so... they’re just afraid that I’d impregnant her before marriage. Because they don’t want to be embarassed by that…”

“What so embarassing by being pregnant?”

“Ask those old money, they’re somehow a little narrow minded.” he scoffed.

“And that makes you love her less?”

“I love her, but she couldn’t decide anything on her own!” he emptied his glass.

They both enjoying another glass of champagne, with him ignoring the buzzing from his cellphone, and her accompanying him through the rest of the event.

“Baekhyun…” she said, her voice is lower and huskier than before, “if you need a getaway, you can go with me… we can go to a resort on a beach for one night or two… I promised you it’s gonna be a relaxing getaway for you…”

-

He came to your house with the smile you always love and the flowers in his hand.

“Hey…” he said.

You let him step into your house and let him following you to the kitchen. The big house looks empty so he asked,

“Where’s everyone?”

“Dad’s at his office obviously, mom going abroad. No sibling because I’m the only child in case you forgot.” You shortly replied.

“You’re being sarcastic.” He pouts, “I’m sorry...”

“For?”

“For neglecting your calls last night, I was go straight to sleep because I’m exhausted.” He gave you a hug.

You pour him a drink before you two talking at the backyard.

“Wanna go somewhere? Movie or dinner?” he asked.

“Now?”

“Uh hum…”

“I can’t, I have to study for a test.”

“What test? As far as I know you’re graduated from college.” Baekhyun tilr his head.

“I’m going to work at dad’s company, and he doesn’t want me to get in there just because I’m his daughter, he wants me to take proper tests.”

“Whoa… so you’re gonna study in your room later?”

You nodded.

“Why don’t you go study now, I can come with you, accompanying you…” he smirks.

“Upstairs?”

He cheekily nodded, and then leaning to whispers, “I wanna be alone with you.”

Of course the study never happened because now you’re under him, hugging his waist with your leg, breathing heavily while you got pumping down there. His mouth keep searching for places to kiss while you grab his hand harder when you feel the intense tickling feeling bubbling on you lower stomach.

“I’m coming, babe.” You grunts and he smirks.

“Want me to go harder?”

“Uh-huh, uh huh… uh yess…”

He kissed you when your body shaking and your leg gave up from hugging him.

He sleeps on the bed while you’re reading some notes, his cellphone buzzing on the table several times, and since it’s close to you, you can read the preview.

Jieun: what you doing?

You creased your eyebrows, “Why would she text Baekhyun?” then you remember she was his client, “maybe they have another project together?” you’re trying to think positively.

-

“Baekhyun!”

he turned and saw a girl, “Hyeji?” 

“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here!” they were at the lobby of a luxurious junction which has a fine dining area, laid back lounge and a night club upstairs.

“Me too.” He smiles, “I’m just finishing a meeting. So, how are you?” he rose and give the girl a light hug.

“Fine. Never better!”

Baekhyun saw a ring on her finger, “and engaged?”

She shyly chuckles, “yup.”

“I can’t believe one of my ex going to settle down soon!”

Hyeji giggles, “fun fact, I dated my fiance for less than a year before he’s on one knee.”

“That soon?”

Hyeji grinning, “it doesn’t take long to realise that he’s the one, really!”

Baekhyun smiles, Hyeji is one of girlfriend he adores when they were still together. She’s a hardworker, it’s just their living class which way different. Baekhyun came from wealthy family just like you. Moreover, he’s witty self let him being a multimillionaire in young age. While Hyeji has to work extra hard to pay for school and living. Even if Baekhyun told her that he’d cover everything for her, seems like Hyeji has a different way of thinking which made them argue all the time.

“I’m happy for you.” He said.

She smiles.

“So when is the wedding?”

“Next month.” She replied, “so… how are you?”

Baekhyun shrugged, “as you can see.”

“You aren’t change much.” Hyeji said.

“Hope I’m not.”

“What about girlfriend, or fiance maybe? Or maybe a wife??”

Baekhyun laughs, “I have a girlfriend.”

“Cool, tell me more about her.” 

“Have a seat.” Baekhyun sat and Hyeji sat across him.

“So, who’s this unlucky girl?”

Baekhyun laughs, “right, she’s unlucky because she fell for a guy like me, but I kind of lucky because she met all my expectation about being a girlfriend, or maybe a future wife?”

“Aww, Byun Baekhyun thinking about settling down?”

He laughs again.

“She came from a rich family like you?”

Baekhyun nodded.

“See? It’s easy if its meant to be.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Hyeji were there for her bachelorette party and somehow Baekhyun was suddenly invited, the party wasn’t wild, but everyone is partying and drinking, and at some point they were dancing. Just two of them, inside a crowd of strangers.

“I was still in love with you when we broke up.” Hyeji said.

Baekhyun smiles, thin and sweet, “do you think I wasn’t?”

“Don’t lie, I was the one loving you so much while you always had your eyes on that girl… your colleague daughter.”

Baekhyun chuckles, “fun fact, she’s my grilfriend now.”

“Seriously??”

“Yeah…” he smuggly smiling.

“Damn you Baekhyun, you’re really in love with this girl, aren’t you?”

“Told ya, I’m so lucky that she finally mine.”

“Marry her.”

“I will, one day…” he smirks.

And she smiles.

“God, your smile is still captivating.”

“Baek…”

“One last kiss won’t hurt your fiance’s feeling I guess?”

“Wouldn’t it hurt your girlfriend?” she asked.

“She doesn’t have to know…” and he tilt his head, kissing her passionately.

-

Baekhyun thanked God he didn’t wake up beside his ex-girlfriend, instead he was home, and you were there.

“Baby…” he groaned while stretched out.

“A girl called me from your phone last night, no, this dawn, because you passed out in a club. Lucky that mom and dad aren’t home.” You said, “I drove at 3 to picked you up… Gosh, Baekhyun…”

he sat up and reach your waist, “this is why I fucking love you…” he snuggles further to your neck. “I love you…” he murmured.

“Stop it…” you don’t feel good when he keeps saying those words because you know he must keeping something from you, an dthinking of how he was wasted at a club really bother your mind right now.

“Who was the girl who called me last night?”

Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder, “a nice stranger?”

You never satisfied with this kind of answer but you know more question means arguments and you knew where it goes, you have no energy for that. Not after hundred of arguments about the same cause. You feel your smart watch buzing and the blue flower forming. You’re breathing following the movements of the petals.

“You still using that breathing app?” he asked.

You briefly nodded.

“Breathing is automatic, babe, why you even need that?”

“Sometimes it’s suffocating.”

“Why? Because of me?”

“Not particularly, but it’s nice when something remind you to breathe, to relax… reminding you that you’re alive.”

He paused, but his eyes looking at you, “Hey, let’s go somewhere since your parents aren’t in town.” Baekhyun pull away a bit to see you face.

“Like where?”

“To my beach house?”

“But it’s not summer.”

“Who cares? I just need to be with you.” He pulls you to his arms, let you cuddled up inside his embrace.

Jieun: [picture]

Jieun: check that out.

“Who’s that?” you asked.

“Jieun.”

“I saw her texting you all the time. Do you have a new project with her?”

Baekhyun humming, “yeah…”

“What project?”

“Uh, long story, I’ll tell you only if you agree to stay with me at my beach house tonight.” Baekhyun still busy with his cellphone.

“I can’t, I stayed out last night because of you, remember? I can’t stay out everyday.”

He pouts, “come on… don’t you wanna be with me?”

“You know how to be with me all the time…” you said.

“I know, I know,” he smiles, he took the hints perfectly all the time. You just want him to say those words, to ask you to marry him, but he’s never ready.

“What keeping you from saying it to me?” you asked, “am I not good enough?”

“Babe, come on…” he hugs you again, “don’t make me sad.”

“You’re the one who make me sad.”

“Okay, okay, give me just a little more time.” He said, “not to convince my heart, because I can’t think of anyone else to be my wife beside you, but a little more time to plan where, when, and how I’d ask you… I promise you it’s gonna be astounding.”

-

Baekhyun called you yesterday telling you that he has to go to Singapore for a business trip, he’ll be back on Saturday. And you haven’t heard from him since last night.

“Girlfriend again?” Jieun asked. She was in a bathrobe stepping out from the bathroom.

He was in Jeju with her. The text she sent was the resort she said she wants to go and Baekhyun booked a room for them.

“Uh huh.” He type a message.

“Why don’t you just broke up with her and be with me?”

“I can’t, I love her.”

“But you did this to her??”

Baekhyun smirks, “I’m going to propose her after I come back from here.”

“You wh-???””

Baekhyun sighs, “I promise myself that I’d stop all the game after this. I’m going to focus on her only. She’s the only one I could ever think of being the one.”

“You really turn me off.” Jieun rolled her eyes.

Baekhyun snickered, “really? Let me check if you really aren’t wet for me, miss.”

-

You went inside this famous bakery in town, buying some pastries when someone called you.

She bowed and you realised that she’s Baekhyun’s secretary.

“I thought you’re still in Jeju, miss.” She said.

“In Jeju? Baekhyun is in Jeju now?”

The secretary hesitantly nodded.

“Isn’t he in Singapore now?”

She seems pale.

“Hey, hey it’s fine,” you said, “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. But why did you think I’m in Jeju with him now?”

“Uh, yes, miss, because mr. Byun bought two tickets to Jeju and he booked a resort there.” She said.

“Oh…”

“I’m—“

“Hey, it’s fine.” You smiles, “I know about the resort, I think he bought that as a surprise for me… and you just ruined it.” You playfully winked.

As someone who taught to always held your head high even in a critical situation, you know you can’t be seen fooled by anyone, especially your own boyfriend.

But you cried in the car and your smart watch buzzing again and the blue flower showed up.

-

“NOW YOU EXPLAIN TO ME WHO WAS WITH YOU!!” you shouts at him on the day he appeared in front of you on Saturday night, the day he said he was just landed from Singapore.

“Babe?”

“I know you were in Jeju, you bastard!!”

“I was—babe, I can explain.”

“Yeah you should be, now explain!!”

“It was a surprise present for a friend.”

“Who?”

“Junmyeon, for his honeymoon.” He said.

“Don’t lie to me, Baekhyun, I can call Junmeyon now!” you yelled, how silly was the reason, Junmyeon hasn’t even got married to anyone and it boiled your blood even more.

“Babe…”

“Stop using your friend to keep lying to me, Baek!!”

“Argh! Listen to me!!” he grunts.

“I am not listening if you still thinking of lying to my face!”

“Okay, I’m sorry! I lied to you, I was with Jieun.”

You stop, your whole world stop spinning, you can’t believe what he just said. “y-you  were with Jieun…?”

He’s gazing at the marbled floor, “I’m sorry, I was… I was wrong…”

“You’re… you’re cheating on me…?? Baekhyun?” tears rolled down, you didn’t even notice it.

“Baby, I promise you it’lll never happen again! I swear it was a mistake I’d never repeat!!”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to make up your mind.

Byun bakehyun, your boyfriend fro 2 years, lying to you. And you sure that wasn’t the first time.

“Babe…?” he’s trying to come closer, “babe, I’m sorry, it was a mistake.”

“No.” you cut him, “I was, I was the mistake.”

“What are you saying??” he looks concerned.

“I know I’m different than all girls you’ve been having relationship with… you always told me I can’t even make a decision by myself, I am driven by my family, unlike other couples we can’t go on a vacation just two of us… I never met your expectation of how common couple would date…”

“No, baby…”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” you said, “the way I stopped confronting you when you’re going MIA, when you’re wasted in a club, texting girls… because I know I can’t give you—“

“You gave me everything! Please! Please stop.” He cuts you. “please…”

You’re looking at him, he was the most beautiful man you ever known, you had several exes in the past but Baekhyun hold most of your heart, he’s witty, he’s funny, he’s good looking. “Baekhyun…”

“Please…” he whispers whil ereaching your hand.

“… broke up with me.”

“Wh—“

“Broke up with me, Baek…”

“But—“

“It’s a mistake if you want to stay with me… you need someone match your pace, someone who can run with you wildly, not some bird in a golden cage.”

Baekhyun staring into your eyes, trying to let you know that he doesn’t agree with whatever you said.

“Break up with me…” you pleaded.

“Wait for me.” He said, “I’ll be a better person for you. I promise.”

-

8 months later.

It’s nice to be back to Seoul after an intense work training to your father’s company in Europe. And you have to admit that being away from the city in which you got your heart britally broke was nice.

Today is the first month of you officially working at your father’s company as one of the business analysts, you did a good job, even your father is proud of you.

“Miss, here the file you asked, and you got an invitation.” Your assistant came and give you few big envelopes.

“Invitation?”

“A wedding invitation.”

Your heart pounding.

Who?

You snatch the envelope and read the name.

Kim Junmyeon & Kang Jieun

You feel silly for breathing in relieve, you shouldn’t feel that way. Even if Baekhyun name was on it, you should be happy for him.

-

The wedding took place in a big cathedral, nice and elegant, the flowers are all white and the wedding band playing the smoothest jazz ever.

You stepped in and looked around, you found some old friends who immediately greet you, asking you how are you because ethey didn’t expect to see you here in Seoul, they’re all knew you moved to Europe 8 months a go, after the break up.

“Hey, someone looking for you.” Sehun, your junior in college, also a family friend pointed at a direction.

Baekhyun.

In a blacksuit, white shirt, no tie, smiling at you.

“Hey…” he said.

“Hey…” you greet him back.

“How are you?”

“Never better.”

And his smile bloomed. “You came alone?”

You nodded, “you?”

“Yes.” He replied.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you asked.

“I don’t have one. Not a girlfriend, not a fling, no one. No one after you.”

You feel the bubble formed inside your chest, but you just smiling.

“I’m trying to prove something here…” he whispers.

“Yeah, and you did.”

He nodded, “so…” he looked down briefly to take your hand when he stopped, stunned, dumbfounded by the ring on your finger. “Wh—what the… what is this? This is just an accessories, isn’t it??”

You waited for him to level up his eyes to yours, and when he did, you shook your head.

“Who?” he asked.

“An aqcuiantance I met in Europe some months a go.”

“But to engage to him… isn’t it… too soon?” he asked.

“It’s easy when it’s meant to be, Baek.”

“Bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, “but I, I did this for you! I changed for you!”

“But I changed after I met him.”

Baekhyun scoffed.

“It’s not anymore suffocating, Baek… breathing is easy when I’m with him.” You rubbed the chained watch on your wrist, not anymore the smart watch.

“And where is he now?” he asked.

“Still in Europe, he’ll be here next week.”

“And you’re okay with long distance relationship?” he asked, “come on, you love me more because you can’t stand being away from me even for two nights.”

“Because I trust him…” you replied.

You gotta admit, to see those dark orbs of the man in front of you wet from tears breaking your heart, but as much love you got for him, you were never find ease when you’re with him.

“I’m sorry…” you murmured.

“But I love you…”

“I loved you enough when I’m with you.” You said, “now please… be happy for me.”

He gulped, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I…”

You stepped forward and reach him, brought him to your hug, “be happy for me…”

And he didn’t say anything because he could never.

-end-

[thetorturerwrites]

Puer Deus: Proof

This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @faestae-writes​. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

***

Captured / Hurricane / Sustenance / Liar / Scars

Summary:  Of Gods and slaves

A/N:  18+ only.  Physical violence; sadism; references to abuse; smut

Word Count: 5.1k

Day Six

It was the sound of his voice that stirred you, nudging into your gray matter and beckoning you back from bleak emptiness.  Your brow creased, and you exhaled, uneven and apprehensive. You flexed aching fingers and toes, forcing the stiff joints to cooperate.

“Find them,” he ordered, his voice strong but low, “I don’t care how. Find them.”

Red-rimmed, puffy eyes broke open, and you squinted, the glare of the light cycle offensive and irritating. You grumbled at the very idea of bright light and struggled to sit up. As your brain kicked into gear, you took stock of your situation.

This was the same torture chamber, that was your blood staining the floor, and it was your filth in the sheets. Licking your chapped lower lip, you worked to put puzzle pieces together.  Your Knight guard had brought you to these chambers yesterday, Ren’s chambers.

You’d slept in Ren’s bed.

Had he? Your breath caught on the idea that he had stayed with you.  If he had stayed, what did it mean that he was still here? If he hadn’t, why had he let you sleep here?

Shaking off the unnecessary, relentless pondering of your brain, you rubbed at your eyes and hunched forward.  Every part of you ached as though you’d been ejected into space, compressed and redistributed in the wrong order.  You grimaced and shifted, slowly dragging your legs off the side of the bed, mentally preparing yourself to bear weight.

Drawing in a rough breath, you shifted your survey from surroundings to immediate.  The state of your body evenly matched the state of this room. You were caked in dried blood, painted with hand prints, droplets, and innumerable streaks and smudges.  Ren had cut open every one of your scars; he’d left nothing unclaimed.

Sometime in the night, though, your wounds had been tended, and you were now decorated in patches of surgical tape.

The memory of his hands, his scalpel, propelled you forward, scooted you to the edge of the bed.  If you kept moving, kept working to survive, maybe you’d be able to outrun the repeated, vibrant images of his relentless torment and your body’s exuberant rejoinder.  You couldn’t escape Ren; but perhaps, you could escape the memory of his effect upon you.

Pushing against the mattress, you bit firmly into your lip, thinking this endeavor was every bit as torturous as Ren’s blade.  Your legs burned and wobbled like it was your first time to stand. The soles of your feet throbbed, but you made little, shuffling steps. Tears tumbled down to wash tracks into the blood staining your cheeks, and you pinched your eyes tight together.

For a long moment, you just stood there, willing your body to be strong, begging your stupid eyes to dry.

The door slid shut, and you could hear him moving back into the room, but you were trying too hard not to fall to give him much attention.  It was taking all of your effort to stand and squeeze your fists together, too far away from the bed to sink back into its support but uncertain that your legs would hold you much longer. The idea of crumpling into a mess on the floor was less than appealing, but it was unavoidable, you decided.

You could feel him behind you, but you couldn’t look.  He was a looming dark planet, the center of your universe now, and you could feel how fast you were hurtling through the Galaxy. Heat danced along your skin, and you shook your head, trying to clear away the flashes of his eyes, twin comets burning a bright swath of destruction in their wake.

You’d been so willing to let him end your life, but he hadn’t, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

You'd given him your ultimate prayer, your whole body supplication, and he had decided it wasn't good enough. He hadn't granted you the absolution you'd sought.

Ren didn’t move; and as always, it unnerved you so much that you turned your head to look at him.  The pity you felt for yourself abated instantly. He was also still painted with your offering, ruddy constellations mingling with vast swatches and trails.  His dark tresses were clumped together, matted with congealed blood.  

The sight of it was jarring. 

Why would he spend the night in your blood? Why hadn’t he washed away your filth and gore? Was it a war prize, some malicious badge of honor to mark your breaking? Did that mean the war for your body was over?

You were filled with too many questions and only one answer. Your blood on his body looked magnificent. 

He was wild, feral, a savage, dogged creature they would tell stories about for millennia to come.  The great monster in the dark.

The varying shades of crimson and obsidian framed his face and his body as though he had been carved directly from the middle of a volcano, white hot in the center bleeding outwards to ruddy and then midnight black.

But it was his eyes that captivated you, as always.  His greedy gaze slid over you, roving around bruised curves and raised scratches.  He lingered on the bloody palm print on your breast, and it tightened for him obediently. His eyes raked down to your thighs, and you stopped breathing.

You were trapped by the promise of brutality and lust you saw there.

Ashamed of the way you'd reacted to him, the way you were still reacting to him, you shied away from his stare, dizzy and struggling to stay upright. Your insides were twisted, your equilibrium was thrown off as though you’d been pushed too far out of his gravitational field.  You were tumbling into anxious awareness, your brain firing off question after question.

What could you offer that hunger in return when what you'd already given hadn’t been enough?  What else were you expected to produce when the sum total of everything you were had been rejected, discarded?

Broken and battered, you were nothing short of empt--

"Beautiful," he cut off your thought.

It was soft, nearly under his breath. You snorted louder than you intended and shook your head, completely disbelieving. Beautiful? Riddled with bruises and scars? You looked down at yourself, tracked with dried blood and surgical tape.  Certainly not.

He was on you in a second, covering the distance in two long strides. His demanding hands took hold of your body, turning you and pulling you flush against him. His left hand slid around your throat, tightening and shifting your face to look up at him; his right hand dropped down to cup your backside, rubbing and squeezing the shapely mass.

"My bruises," he murmured, " my scars."

His voice was husky, ravenous, and he dropped his face down to nudge your jaw with his nose.  What could you say in response to that? They were his bruises and scars now. You'd never think of them in any other way.

You swallowed nervously, pressing against his chest where your hands were trapped, fingers splaying.  Your body, injured though it was, flooded with his nearness. Sweat dampened your brow, and a blush crept up your cheeks.  Your thighs quivered, and you pressed them together to staunch the familiar twinge. Wanting pooled low in your belly, and your lips parted on a stuttered breath.

Your clearing eyes focused on the expanse of skin under your fingers, and you realized that this was the first time you’d touched him.  He'd had his hands on you for days, but you’d never been granted the return opportunity. Stunned, you pressed the palms of your hands into his pecs, feeling his heartbeat.  The existence of his pulse awed you.

Your Child God truly was a man, but he was such a man as you had never seen.  He was marble, chiseled by the hand of war and kept sharp by a ceaselessly demanding master. There was no softness here, no gentleness, and there would never be mercy.

You grimaced, huffed out a breath, and let your gaze travel further to take in more of his alabaster skin and alluring, dark beauty marks.  How unnecessary to decorate an already magnificent work of art, you thought, but how utterly perfect they looked upon him.

But something was wrong.

Your eyebrows drew together, worry playing over your face.  Yesterday, he was pure and nearly flawless, his only injury being the wound traversing his face.  Yesterday, he had been wholly transcendent in his perfection.

Today, his body was marred, corrupted by lines and lesions that should not be there.  Beneath the russet stains, he was bearing the wounds of a different sort of battle, an impossible struggle.

Eyes blown wide with the memory of yesterday's accusation, you jerked backwards in his embrace, pushing his arms away so you could examine more of his body.  Your trembling fingers ran over arms, ribs, shoulders, lingering on all of the pink and red scratches that now danced with brown freckles.

No…

You recognized the pattern you saw on his flesh.  You’d been mapping that exact calligraphy for years.  You were too horrified to cry, to be ashamed or apologetic.  You reached up and swept anxious fingers at the hollow of his throat, tracing the too-familiar jagged lines.

And he let you.  Ren held you loosely, one hand splayed across your back while the other continued to stroke your ass and hip. He watched you, dark eyes trained to your face, keeping his silence as you discovered not just his body but the effect he wanted you to believe you'd had upon it.

You...

“No,” he tipped your chin up, “I told you yesterday.  You did this.”

You shook your head, pushed against him, and tried to step back, emphatically disagreeing with his crazy assertion.  Ducking down swiftly, Ren lifted you over his shoulder, affording you the view of his newly scratched-up back, and carted you into the bathroom.

You flinched from the automatic light, instinctively burying your face against his shoulder as the false blue flooded the room to hurt your eyes.  Ren outstretched his hand at the fixture, blew out half of the little halogen bulbs, and cast the bathroom in a less harsh glow. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief and pushed at his back, wiggling in his grip.

Ren set you on still hurting feet and turned you before a large, floor-to-ceiling mirror built against one of the walls.  You tried to step away, not wanting to see the results of his ravaging, but he pushed you back into place, turning your head and forcing you to face your reflection.

As before, you were shocked by the woman you saw there.  She was as feral as Ren, savage and shameless. There were dark circles under her eyes from overuse, and she was painted an astonishing array of colors that amplified every curve, accentuated every muscle.

That woman, you thought, was not surviving.  She was thriving.

You still didn’t know what it meant that she was you, and you were too exhausted for much more.

When Ren stepped behind you, you choked and gaped at him in the mirror.  He’d shucked his pants and pressed into your backside, wrapping a long arm around your middle, his forearm nestled beneath your breasts. He tipped your head to one side and cleared away your hair so that he could drop his face into that crook. 

Your brow knit at the familiarity of it, recalling the way he’d positioned you exactly like this in the shower. He’d tucked the length of his erection at the crest of your ass, and he’d kept you flush against the long column of his body.  Being fully inside his orbit produced an immediate, visceral reaction, and you shook inside his embrace.

You stared at the picture in the mirror.  His wide shoulders and strong arms caged you, hulking in the background. His dark halo was dipped down, his face buried into your neck.  The devil wrapped around you, come to claim his prize.

He drew in a deep, satisfied breath, and you couldn’t help but think you smelled like a barn.  Hardly a fit sacrifice for such a demanding, devoted demon. He smirked against your skin, and your eyes widened impossibly further. You were so wrapped up in concern, you hadn't noticed.

He’d done it.  He’d broken into the stronghold, and he could hear you.

Ignoring your shock, Ren stroked your stomach gently, slowly. His middle finger rubbed over your belly button, and it felt so incredibly good that you visibly shuddered. When he started speaking, you felt the vibration of it at your throat, understanding why he liked it so much. It was a subtle gesture, but it was powerfully seductive.

“There are as many ways to use the Force,” he said, “as there are species in the Galaxy.”

He raked thick fingers down your arm and encircled your wrist.  Turning the inside of your arm upwards, he tracked the bruise he’d left there with his thumb before turning his arm up to show you his matching bruise in the same spot, and you stopped breathing.

“It is everywhere” he continued, “even when you don’t know it.”

He curled your arm up against your chest, and you took the opportunity to hug yourself, eyes watering as he kept on.   Nuzzling into your hair, he pressed his lips at the very back of your neck while nimble fingers danced down the lengthy scar at your thigh, pinching at the surgical tape.

"And it is accessible to everyone, anyone if they can feel it." 

Pulling you closer by one large hand at your hip, he snuggled his growing erection between your buttocks on a satisfied hum.  His arm slithered up your torso, sliding against your sternum and between your breasts until long fingers wrapped around your neck to squeeze.  You couldn’t look away as he shifted so that his leg slid against yours, the discordant but matching line peeking through his dark leg hair.

"Like you." 

You were stunned into utter stillness; you couldn’t even breathe.  The things he was saying couldn’t possibly be true. You were nobody from nowhere. You’d been sold into slavery as a child, and you’d spent your life just trying to survive.  There was no Force sensitivity here.

“My grandfather was a slave,” he murmured against your temple, “and he was the most powerful Force-user in the Galaxy.”

I’m not your grandfather…

“Do you need more proof, puppet? There's plenty."

His hand dropped to palm at the tape stretching across your abdomen, squeezing the swell of your belly in his broad hand. He was goading you into turning around to see if he had a matching one, but you knew he did.  

Ren hadn’t ever lied.  If he said that you did this, you were going to have to believe that you did.  Unlike the day before, he’d been with you in this room the entire time, and you’d woken to a flushing lattice covering his body.

You shook your head to his question, hoping instead he would explain how you’d been able to accomplish this miraculous feat when you were just a weaponer from the desert.

How...

“You used to scream into the desert,” he offered, settling his chin on top of your head and talking to you in the mirror.

“The only time you would let your guard down was then, and you would unleash all of your rage, your pain.  You taught yourself to unburden all of that anger and hurt by pushing it out into the stars.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice rather than his words because they were nauseating; this could not be real.  Everything he said was true, though; and worse, him knowing those things meant that he’d truly been in your head, diving into your thoughts, memories, history.  

"When that wall comes down," he murmured, fingers stroking the supple side of your breast, "you communicate the only way you can. They took your voice, but your body found a way. You found a way."

At some point during his instruction, you'd latched your fingers onto his thick arm and were holding it as though he would save you from this. The tears he had been building spilled over, clamoring down your trembling chin.

"You can make whomever might be around you feel what you're feeling."

The weight of what he was telling you settled; his words rang in your ears.  You thought about the last two days and how your wall had been fractured on the first day, resulting in the bruises on his arms.  And then, you replayed yesterday when it was all but obliterated and you had pushed out all of your outrage and suffering as you readied yourself to die.

Ren was telling you that you were Force-sensitive, and he was offering his body as proof to that fact. 

For a second, you wondered why he was telling you this, why he was being nice.  Wouldn’t it be better to keep someone who could literally wound you with their feelings in the dark about something like this? Ignorance made for better prisoners, you knew that for a fact.

Opening your eyes, you met his stare in the mirror. It surprised you that he was being so open, and you had so many questions.

Ren...

“Kylo,” he said simply, and you blinked, bewildered.

“My name is Kylo.  Ren was…,” he paused, seeming to search for a proper description, “...a different man.”

Curiosity having been forgotten with this kernel of information, you let your gaze wander your reflection. You studied each line of black tape, each scratch you assumed was closed with a cautery pen. You lingered over bloody fingerprints, long tracks running down your legs, the pool of crimson at the juncture of your thighs.

He held you like that for a long time, quiet and still, fingers barely grazing different bits of your skin, giving you time to assimilate the information. Often, your eyes would stray to him, this package of tightrope composure and bombast.

This man was a monster.  He delighted in torturing you, making you suffer and cry. You’d never seen a person so fully alive as he was covered in your blood and carving up your flesh. He lived up to every inch of his reputation.

And you had survived his wrath, the explosion of his violence.

Twice.

An appreciative hum vibrated against your back, and his face dipped down against your ear.  He stroked the soft skin where thigh met groin, keeping you tucked against him with an arm around your stomach. He rocked his hips into you, pushing his swollen dick between your buttocks. Your lips parted on an eager gasp, and you couldn’t help yourself from leaning your head back against him, pressing your ass into his thrusts.

“You did,” his tone was low, “And you will.”

The absolute certainty in his voice chilled you, and nervousness trickled in.  He still meant to keep you, the war for your body was not over, and this was not a tender moment.  

You thought back to the floor he’d pinned you to when he learned you’d stopped eating.  This reprieve, this cease-fire of suffering, was not a result of kindness. He was simply ensuring you wouldn’t be broken beyond repair so that the misery could continue tomorrow.

“Smart girl,” he whispered in your ear before standing upright and unwinding from around you.

A frown flitted across your face because him being able to hear your thoughts was disabling, intimidating, but you swallowed it down because you were simply too flabbergasted, too weak, and too starved to fortify yourself against it. Maybe you’d be able to work on it tomorrow; but tonight, you just needed to recover.

Ren ushered you through a hot shower, washing away the remnants of last night’s bloody agony.  The hot water and steam lulled you into a spacey relaxation, and you put up absolutely no resistance when his fingers stopped washing and began to play your body like an instrument. You told yourself it certainly wasn't because you craved his touch.

He let the lie slide.

He plucked and tugged at your nipples until they throbbed to attention. He dipped his fingers between your ass cheeks and rubbed at the tender opening until you arched and gasped, breathless.  He slid his fingers between your labia and rubbed soapy circles into your clit until you danced up onto your toes, and he pumped two deft fingers into your cunt just long enough to have you shuddering before lifting his hand to the water, washing away the bits of blood he’d fucked up into you yesterday.

And then he sat you on the shower floor, dissatisfied and scooted out of the way like furniture, while he bathed himself. You bristled for a moment, but it dissolved as you watched. You marveled at him, watching his impressive hands move quickly over thick arms and legs, coloring the water pink with every pass.

Ren towered over you, and he was nothing short of spectacular. Every inch of him was immense, battle-forged, and the scars that now decorated his body, your scars, only amplified the cords of muscle working beneath the skin. You found yourself wondering if he trained for all of those muscles or if he’d just killed enough people that they were natural now.

He tipped his head back into the water, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.  You let your gaze travel over him without reservation, and you followed each of his ribs and the dark line of fuzz that led down from his belly button to the thick patch at his pelvis. You were watching the way his cock was lengthening when you caught yourself, flushed at what you’d been doing, and looked away.

Your eyes caught on his thigh, though, and you blinked.  He’d gone to great lengths to prove to you that he was wearing all of your bruises, but the memory of those at your thighs had escaped you entirely.  Recalling the way his mouth had claimed your skin, you grazed at your thigh, poking your fingernail into the flourishing purple.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and brushed your fingertips against the discoloration on his skin, thinking it was so out of place.

Ren had stopped washing, hands folded behind his neck, and was staring down at you. His abdomen was clenched tight, his skin was flushing a lovely shade of pink, and his nose was red from the hot water. Something you couldn’t name punched up through your lungs leaving you breathless.  

You weren’t sorry. How could you be sorry when you hadn’t known it was you?

But seeing something of you, this intimate mark of yours, on this man’s body stirred something primal and moved you to act. The rational part of you screamed that you should stop, but the part of you hungering for this beast propelled you onto your knees before him, wanting some part of the bruise to actually be yours.

Your eyes weren’t drawn to his cock, swollen with arousal and standing proud inches from your face. Instead, your stare fixed upon his thigh, fingers tracing it again lightly.

You looked up at him, the question unnecessary because he certainly already knew what was in your mind.  He nodded once, barely perceptible, giving you the permission you sought. Licking your lips, you readied and focused upon your target.

He hissed when your quivering lips connected with his leg, your nose rubbing into the softer, upper thigh hair. You trembled, thinking surely you had gone insane, but you licked at the soapy skin anyways, roaming the circumference of his bite mark with your tongue tip. You glanced up at him to find him watching you intently, his stare delicious and wanting.

Ren nudged your knees apart with his foot, spreading your thighs further so he could look down at the bites he’d left you with, evidence of his viciousness.  He was pleased with himself, with his handiwork, and it rumbled up through his chest.

When you followed his eyes, faltering in your task, he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and pulled your mouth back to his thigh. In your periphery, you could see him wrap his big hand around his fat, neglected cock and stroke slowly. You burned at the idea that he was fucking himself millimetres away from your hot mouth and sucked at his bruise.

He hummed when your teeth nipped at the skin, and you reveled in the sound. It amazed you that you could make that happen.

With a lusty growl, his pace picked up, and you could hear his fist insistently working his cock, the slaps echoing off the tile. He anchored you to his thigh, fingers tight at your neck, and you purred against the skin. His breath was coming shorter now, and you lifted your eyes up to look at his face, salivating at the sight.

He was breathtaking, flushed with desire, dark hair shining onyx from the water, eyes heavy-lidded as he pleasured himself.  

Emboldened, you inched nearer, slid your arm beneath his leg, and lifted him onto your shoulder, mirroring the very way he’d held you the night before.  The same heat that flooded you beneath his lightsaber returned, and you wrapped your suddenly brave hands around his hips, tilting them towards your mouth.

Opening wide, you sunk your teeth into the meat of his thigh, drawing the falsely-bruised skin deep into your mouth.

“Fuck!”

He barked it out and tangled fingers in your hair, holding you exactly there while you sucked and bathed his skin with your tongue.  His tempo was hurried now, skipping, and you growled against him, knowing he liked to feel your chest, your mouth vibrate. 

Remembering all of the ways he’d tormented you, you opened your jaw wider to draw more of him in, bit down again, and turned your head from side to side, yanking and tearing at the, now appropriately, discolored flesh.

On a snarl, he yanked your head back from his thigh and slid his leg from your shoulder. You licked your puffy lips but didn’t dare look at him fisting his cock; you couldn't be certain you wouldn't beg for it. Rather you looked up at his face the way he’d forced you to look up at him that first day, suppliant and worshipful.

You were the hungry beast now, eyes wild and wanting, skin flushed and tight. He affected you in ways no person ever had, but he couldn't pretend you didn't affect him, too. It was a heady, heady thing.

“Open.”

His harsh grip tipped your head back, and you sunk your weight into your knees. You knew it was an inviting picture, your thighs spread wide, breasts pushed together between your arms, swollen lips parted and ready. You knew he loved seeing himself all over your body, and you wallowed in it, groveling for the way he looked at you.

Like property.

But you knew you were unlike any he'd had before or would in the future.

The sounds he made were sinful, incredible, and you yearned for them, desire dribbling hot onto the tiles beneath your cunt. His breath was choppy, and he was staring down at you so fiercely you thought you might burst into flames. 

Ren’s hulking shoulders hunched forward, his torso curving in as he neared orgasm, and you moaned at the sight, the raspy sound swallowed by the rush of the shower and the pained groans spilling from above. Lost to the carnality, you reached out to wrap your hand around his calf, needing the contact.

That was all it took, the last bit of what he needed.

You saw the moment his body loosened, the flash of it across his face, and his shoulders eased back, hips pushing forward.  For a second, he was trapped between anxious build-up and explosive relief, and he held his breath. His grip on his cock tightened, his strokes changing from fast and loose to slow and tight.

He erupted into a breathy groan as the first salty drops hit your tongue, and you squirmed on an impatient whimper, the taste of him overpowering your senses. He was salty, spicy, tart, and it flooded your tongue, sliding down into your throat.

Ren held his cock right above your face as he came, the inflamed, red-purple head barely resting on your lower lip. He squeezed and milked all of his release into your waiting mouth, chasing the last bits of release with low, gravelly moans.  

When he finally released his grip on his dick, readying to pull away, your pearly tongue shot up to curl against the very end, lips closing around the sensitive tip and kissing away that last drop before swallowing down his taste.

It was bold, stupid, reckless, and so fucking worth it.

His eyes darkened impossibly further, and he snatched your face between harsh fingers, bent forward, and kissed you before you could clear his cum fully away. His tongue pushed past your teeth and invaded the cavern of your mouth, sliding through the salty mix on a satisfied sigh.

You'd tasted him twice in as many minutes, and you were sure you'd never be the same. It was magnetic, delirious, obscene, and you were scorched in the wake of it.

Gathering you into his arms, Ren reached back to turn off the shower and herded you back into the bathroom proper.  In minutes, he had you dried and back in the bed, a tray of food at your side. You watched him pull on clothes, uncertain of why you felt the way you did, empty and confused, satisfied and pleased, defeated and victorious.

When he was fully dressed, he stepped back around to the side of the bed, wrapped his fingers around your throat, and squeezed until you looked up at him, as though you could look anywhere else when he was so near.

The gesture felt almost intimate now, his way of centering you always back to him. 

“Eat. Sleep. There’s a guard outside.  I trust you understand the consequences if you try to escape again."

You’re going to beat me no matter what; so, does it matter? 

Your eyebrow perched up high, daring him to argue or prove you wrong.  

Ren's luscious lips turned up at the corners, his amusement obvious, and he slid his indecently-long index finger into your mouth.  Pushing past your hard palette, he hooked that finger and caught the ridge separating the roof of your mouth from the soft of your throat, sending you into a sputter. He pulled you closer by this crude latch and looked into your watering eyes.

“Indeed, I am.”

[elfpuddle]

It’s been a hot minute since I shared, so I’ll take a moment now to do it. I don’t know how to do the “read under the cut”, so I apologize for the huge block of text appearing on your dash. For those of you who are new, a little context: Instead of dealing with a pandemic, hording, and whatever else was going on last year, I was busily going from doctor to doctor trying to learn why my body suddenly had such severe edema that my feet were actually ovals (as one example...the edema was full body), why I suddenly had such intense foot pain that I could not stand without feeling like I was being tortured, and more. From April to July, I was bed ridden, trying to keep my feet above my heart. I left the bed to walk six feet back and forth to the bathroom, a trip that took 30 minutes because of the pain, and to go to doctor appointments. We discovered that I have hyperparathyroidism, causing hypercalcemia, causing gout-like pain in my feet. I have a full team of doctors working on me, and had scheduled surgery twice last November and December. Both were canceled--the second because my parathyroid and calcium levels were too good; the surgical team had no measure to judge when to stop the surgery.

Since then, I’ve added another doctor, a podiatrist, to the team, because the foot pain simply wasn’t getting better the way my blood levels said it should, and the feet/calf edema was still persistent.

My podiatrist had given me a prescription for a topical arthritis ointment for my feet. It took a few days, but I developed a really "lovely" coating of hives. Yes, I stopped using it and added another drug to my list of allergies. My doctors and I decided that coping with the anxiety and depression caused by the hyperparathyroidism wasn't good enough any more. I'm now taking Prozac, and am much the better for it. I've slept better in since then than I have in over a year, and am much more my normal self. (My dreams are really super odd and vivid, but I'm getting used to my sleeping brain on drugs. I don't actually recommend that part, but I'll deal with it since the rest is so much better.) The xrays of my feet showed that some of my bones to be nearly transparent. Not in the ghost-like way of all xrays...actually not enough bone where bones should be. There was enough calcium in my veins that some of them showed up in the xray. This really disturbed the podiatrist, who ordered a bone density scan and an MRI. Also concerning was the way my left calf, ankle, and heel bones were jammed so tightly together that they overlapped.

My bone density scan technician, for reasons I cannot quite comprehend, didn't scan my feet, which are the area of prime concern. In good news, the rest of me is normal, so my parathyroid isn't extracting calcium from everywhere, nor do I have osteoporosis (yet?). My MRI was much more informative. I have a page and a half of information that, in a nutshell, means that my talus and calcaneus (ankle bones) have bruises and microfractures. I have plantar fasciitis with no tear, two heel spurs, mild/moderate arthritis in my feet, and most likely sinus tarsi syndrome shown by the complete loss of fat cushion in the tarsal sinus (hollow of ankle bones). In sum, for those of you like me that are not experts in the area, my parathyroid has been eating the calcium out of my feet and ankle bones. This, combined with arthritis in the feet and the swelling of the band of tissue that runs along the bottom of my feet, helping connect toes to heel, caused itty bitty fractures in the heel. In addition, it caused the tissues that are supposed to cushion the bones from scraping against each other to compress, deteriorate, and otherwise go away. All the feet and ankle swelling I've had hasn't been fluid building up, but a combination of feet tissues being pushed out of where they should be and swelling from the things that are broken and hurting (much like a jammed or broken finger will swell up until it heals). The cushion rearranging is why I've been so unsteady on uneven ground and steps; my ankle doesn't quite have the ability to deal with anything other than a perfectly flat surface. Usually, one would increase their vitamin d and calcium to help the body fix itself and get the nutrients that have left. But my hyperparathyroidism is causing hypercalcemia, both making too much calcium and depleting my body of it at the same time. Adding more isn't going to help as much as it should. I’m adding a bit more vitamin D to my drug schedule, and some vitamin C. My rheumatologist would add even more of both if it were possible, as the two of them will help rebuild collagen, which is the major ingredient in my missing tissues. I’m also continuing to wear compression socks, but increasing the pressure, to support feet and ankles and make sure that the swelling is minimized. (Like wrapping that jammed finger.) I’ve got a new pair of shoes that have a “rocker bottom” (be careful googling that) like a walking cast, so that my feet and ankle bones stop jamming together when I walk. The shoes have the most arch support I’ve ever seen. I've also got a list of exercises to do for the plantar fascitis to strengthen those tissues and keep them from getting too stiff from the swelling. While the parathyroid is causing havoc, there isn't a lot else to do other than monitor the situation. Unless I show symptoms of getting worse instead of holding steady or getting better, I next have my parathyroid and calcium levels checked in early July. There's three ways it could go: 1) Everything gets better and my body heals. That's not likely, but I do believe in miracles. 2) Everything stays the same...levels slightly elevated, but so close to "normal" that I'm not a candidate for surgery. 3) Levels get high enough, and I get sick enough, that surgery is necessary. I've been bouncing back and forth among the three for a year, so that's not really news. In good news, HubbyTMC and I both got the second doses of our Pfizer Covid vaccines. He was tired and achy in that "I'm coming down with something but don't really have a fever or anything specific" sort of way for a few days. I was hit by a nap rather suddenly a few hours after my shot. That exhaustion lasted for less than 24 hours, and otherwise I had no reaction whatsoever. Huzzah! I have my spiffy new rockerbottomarchsupportarthritisandeverythingelsegoingonsupport shoes. I wear them everywhere and they are helping. They also make me feel even taller than normal, since I'm wearing shoes while HubbyTMC isn't. And without them, I’m a hair under 6′, so this is a fun development. Yesterday, for the first time in a year, I got to go to Mass. I hugged my village of friends. I hung out at their house, just like I did every Sunday before my body went to hell. My village (the two of us, and three other married couples and their ten living children, as well as all the members of the Church Triumphant who hang with us, including our miscarried children) got to go to lunch after Mass and be together as the family we are. GoddaughterHufflePunk took solicitous care of me. She’s Six-and-A-Half, so I got to sit at the border of the adult side of the table, and the children’s side of the table, which is where I belong. My spiritual and emotional health is on the path to healing. Thank God for vaccines and all the people who got them to me. This has been a hard year for a lot of you, too, in ways different than my problems, but just as soul crushing. Know that I'm praying for all of you, and hoping that you are finding light at the end of your tunnels.  Thank you for your continued prayers. I know that they are helping. 

[sapphicunicorn]

[MonHun] Raging Flames and Dancing Swords - 1,731 words

It's been three days of chasing a single Glavenus. Tavia's tired, hungry, and wants a bath. She wants to go back to her own solo hunts but she also really wants her cut of the reward. All she has to do is cut off the tail. Simple, right?

More exploration of Tavia and Ryiel, my girls I've been building since Tri/4. Have some action! (The villages of Aquarin and Sleat don't exist, I made them up, but the Hinmerun Mountains exist in the Schrade Region!)

Part 1 of 3 (parts 2 & 3 will be posted on AO3 & FFnet and linked here!)

Tavia threw fresh twigs into the coals of last night’s fire and stoked the embers. Smoke mixed with the early morning mist, tickling her eyes and nose. Her stomach rolled with hunger after yesterday’s hike. They’d thrown up their tents and fell over with exhaustion before they could decide an order for the nightly watch.

Thankfully today was the last day of the hunt.

[Read on ao3 || ffnet || under the cut]

The party had followed the Glavenus for two days, trading blows and cautiously letting it escape across the mountain forests, chasing it further from the nearby village. It was exhausted, the spines along its back broken, a substantial gash in its side where their gunlancer broke through thick plates. All the party had to do was follow the line of broken trees and blood, pushing it from its desperate meals until it settled into a well hidden nest.

The party leader sent a letter for a guild rep yesterday. If everything went according to plan, they could load up the corpse and collect their handsome reward before the sun set.

Tavia just had to slice off the tail. Simple.

She stirred up the fire until it swallowed the twigs, lively and warm, before settling down to her rations. She missed Guild-sanctioned camps and the fully stocked canteen. Starting her morning without eggs and a hot drink was no morning she wanted to face, but here she was, the first of the party to rise.

Clouds speckled the lilac sky, distant birds making themselves known with noisy clarity. Tavia swatted at the bugs that whined around her ears and took another bite of her rations.

Tavia hated nature. She hated dry salted meat. But today was the last day.

Behind her, a tent flap ruffled and the gunlancer stepped out, fully armored except his helmet, and stretched his arms wide. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, he groaned as his bones popped and ran his hands through his short gray hair.

“Ah, just when I think I’m getting too old for this, we get a view like that.” He nodded towards the horizon, the hilltops and trees covered with mist and haloed by the rising sun.

“I’d trade it for a sturdy roof over my head,” Tavia said. Two days of traveling and fighting and she still didn’t know her team by name; no one seemed offended that when she did address them, it was by their weapon. “Give me a rundown tavern with watery ale and lice in the beds over this outdoor living any day.”

“You city-dwellers are all the same. You’d trade your freedom for those walls, eh?”

Tavia spit a chunk of gristle into the fire; it spit and hissed like an angry cat. “Maybe not that far, but walls are better than wide open spaces. Anything can show up in a spot like this.”

“That’s why we sit watch.” He frowned, his eyes searching around their paltry campsite. “Speaking of, where’s Royse?”

Tavia shrugged, not entirely sure which member had last watch. Did she even take a shift? A hazy part of her remembered leaning against a tree, her knife across her lap and her long sword on the ground beside her. Did someone switch with her? She barely remembered crawling out of her tent. She only remembered hunger.

“Beats me,” Tavia said. “We seem to have made it through the night, though. Unless this is all some ugly nightmare.”

The gunlancer looked up suddenly and Tavia held her breath, strained her ears. Did a predator sneak up? No. Somewhere in the distance was the clatter of cart wheels and hooves, and the raspy singing of felynes.

The gunlancer smiled, his lined face suddenly youthful. “Nah, it’s a dream come true. I’ll get the rest of ‘em up.”

He disappeared into the other two tents and it wasn’t long before the other members of the party stumbled out. The party leader—a gunner as old, but not as gray, as the gunlancer—rubbed his bald head as he sucked on a strip of jerky. The hammer user—a woman with biceps bigger than Tavia’s—sat across the fire and began to rebraid her hair.

The Guild cart was pulled by a small team of anteka; three energetic felynes bounced in the back, their paws waving wildly as their song came to an end. Beside the cart, dressed in blinding white and red, the Guild representative walked with her nose in a book. If it was anyone else, Tavia would claim it was impossible to hike and read at the same—but this was Ryiel. For her, it was expected.

Ryiel glanced up and waved with a smile. Tavia’s heart fluttered, her ration nearly stuck in her throat. Coming up the hillside, Ryiel looked like a dream. Her uniform was spotless, cap still straight on her head, not a single golden thread on her capelet snagged after hiking. Her dark skin was dewey, her black eyes sparkling as she tucked one of her microbraids behind her ear.

Meanwhile Tavia was in her underclothes, sweat baked into the fibers from two days of fighting, her milky skin crusted with mud, greasy red hair stuck to her head. She smelled like a Congalala’s backside.

Not exactly the way she wanted to meet Ryiel again, but if Tavia was being honest, she didn’t expect to ever see Ryiel out in the wilderness. Tavia had found her plenty of times inside Dundorma or small towns, and Tavia often spent too much time searching for her only to find her bent over reports and books. More than twice, Tavia enticed Ryiel out of her bookish den for dinner and drinks.

But Tavia was intentionally dressed up for those occasions. She did her best to seduce the Guild girl who was known for her meticulous reporting, her always tidy appearance. What would Ryiel think of her now?

The leader stepped forward to greet the Guild representative. She traded her small book with a large leather-bound journal from her rucksack and opened to a marked page.

“This is the party of Emil, Royse, and Tavia, led by Marco, correct?” Ryiel asked. Her soft voice sent chills down Tavia’s spine.

“That’s us, ma’am,” the bald leader, Marco, said. “We’ve got the Glavenus a few miles west from here.”

“Already dead?”

“We’re putting it down today and hope to deliver the tail to the village chief.”

Ryiel consulted her journal again. “‘The village of Aquarin requests the removal of one Glavenus endangering the vicinity. Reward requirements include hunting the aforementioned monster and presenting the tail at the village; the hunter, hunting party, or Guild may choose what to do with the corpse,’” she read. “Is someone claiming the body?”

“I am,” said the hammer user. “Got a blacksmith willing to make me some new armor if I bring it in.”

No one discussed the specifics with Tavia. Thankfully she wasn’t shopping for new weapons or armor. She just wanted the money.

Ryiel pulled a pencil from under her cap and made a few marks in the journal. She smiled with satisfaction at Marco. “Excellent. Should I wait here until you’re finished?”

“It should be safe enough,” Marco said. “We’ve been trying to push it away from the village so I can’t see it doubling back this way.”

“I can stay behind if things go wrong,” the gunlancer said.

“Emil, come on, you know—”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” Ryiel said with a wicked smile. She motioned to the felynes still bouncing in the cart. “Don’t worry about us. Focus on your hunt and we’ll approach when you’re ready to load up.”

Marco looked over the party, his apprehension plain on his face.

Tavia knew from experience that Guild representatives weren’t pushovers; while some hunters traded the field for paper, other Guild reps were washouts from training, people who couldn’t make the leap from greenhorn to officially licensed. Everyone who worked within the Guild had some sort of weapons training.

And Tavia happened to know a bit more about Ryiel’s experience than she wanted to share.

“Let’s just get it done,” the hammer user said. “My feet hurt and I’m ready to soak in a hot bath.”

“Seconded,” said Tavia. She stood and stretched out her back. “It’s probably slept less than we have and it’s definitely lost more blood than us. Should be an easy target.”

“Alright, alright,” Marco sighed. He went towards his tent. “Let’s suit up and get moving.”

The gunlancer—what was his name, Emil?—was the only one in armor and was already tearing down his tent. The hammer user—her name must have been Royse—jumped up, her green hair now in a single braid, and entered her tent to dress. After Emil rolled up his tent, he offered to collect some firewood for Ryiel, in case the hunt went longer than expected, and disappeared into the forest.

It was just Tavia and Ryiel near the fire.

Tavia’s palms itched to reach out and stroke Ryiel’s face, but her hands were filthy, blood and dirt caked under her nails. And maybe Ryiel wouldn’t appreciate the touch, anyway. They were still new to each other. In Ryiel’s own words they weren’t official . . . yet.

Ryiel offered a dazzling grin that sent Tavia’s heart racing. “I hoped it was you,” she said quietly. She kept her distance from Tavia but it wasn’t cold, just professional. For a quick moment it looked like she wanted to lean into Tavia—and then she was gone, turning away towards the cart and unhooking the anteka. The felynes crawled off the cart and circled the fire.

“It’s good to see you, Ryiel,” Tavia said. That was safe enough. “I didn’t know you came out on the field.”

“I go wherever the Guild needs me. You wouldn’t know it by looking, but I actually know my way around the Hinmerun Mountains very well.”

“Am I going to hear the story behind that one?” Tavia asked. She loved to listen to Ryiel talk about herself, but Tavia still didn’t know where she came from or how she came to the Guild. Tavia had already spilled her simple story; hers was boring, easy. Ryiel made her beginnings seem mysterious.

Ryiel winked, a finger held up in front of her lips. “Maybe one day. You better get dressed for battle first. Happy hunting today.”

[pips-fics]

lucy fic, as requested!  this one’s about wonsang getting some kind of stomach flu and involves a lot of random headcanons i have about these boys

——

the truth was, wonsang hadn’t been feeling great for the past two days.  a moderate headache had become the norm, and everything felt just a tad fuzzier than normal, a tad achier than someone his age should feel.  even on his best days, wonsang wasn’t the most clearheaded person, but music was normally an exception to that rule - and yet, he felt so off that yenevara* decided to postpone the production of the new album until the following day in favor of allowing wonsang to get some rest.

they didn’t talk about it, but the whole group knew that wonsang had trouble sleeping most nights.  it didn’t usually impact him so much, of course.  he could handle it.  but, sleep being a basic bodily function, it was only to be expected that he’d have days where his general lack of rest intruded on his abilities to function as a productive human being.  the other members of yenevara didn’t question it because wonsang didn’t mention the fact that he in fact had slept well the previous night - abnormally well, in fact.  and yet, when he returned to the dorm at 5 pm, he fell back asleep instantly.

his sleep started light and restless - he couldn’t quite get comfortable, and he woke slightly upon overhearing his bandmates when they returned from practicing in the studio.  they were loud - well, yechan was loud, the others were more or less normal human beings - and before too long they had their instruments out again.  this was typical; they practiced seriously at the studio, and then continued playing with a more variable level of focus when they returned to the dorm, sometimes splitting up to work on their own individual projects.  today they quickly dissolved into laughter and groans.  wonsang vaguely gathered that someone (probably gwangil) had spilled something in an attempt to create an unconventional instrument.  they were very noisy today, but it didn’t bother wonsang too much.  he was glad they were home.

he drifted off and then regained a bit of consciousness some time later, still half-asleep, to the sound of voices once again, but this time they were hushed, and much closer in proximity.

“he’s been sleeping here the whole time?”  gwangil whispered.

sangyeop hummed, pensive.  “he must have been.”

“but how did he sleep through all of that?”

“why was he back so early?  wasn’t yenevara working on demos or something today?”  the shower started up and wonsang was glad yechan wasn’t in here with the others.  as much as he loved their oldest member, he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of being woken up by his consistently chaotic state of being at this specific moment.  “do you think he had dinner?”

“we should let him rest,” gwangil said.  wonsang felt fingers carding through his hair and didn’t bother trying to figure who they belonged to.  someone else’s weight caused the foot of the bed to dip, and wonsang relaxed further as whoever it was pulled off his shoes.  he hadn’t even realized they were still on his feet.  “he probably just didn’t sleep well last night.”

sangyeop sounded less sure.  “i guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

after that, wonsang fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.  he didn’t wake up until late the next morning, when someone (yechan) yelled for some unknown reason (based on sangyeop’s deadpan response of “dumbass,” best guess is he burned his tongue on his coffee.  again).

wonsang did not want to get up.

“what the hell is wrong with him?”  gwangil grumbled, referring to their violinist no doubt, as he sat up in bed.

“what time is it?”  wonsang asked quietly.  pitifully, if he was being honest.  but here’s the thing: he was exhausted.

“ten-thirty.  too early.  i’m going back to sleep.”

wonsang nearly started crying.  it took everything he had to restrain himself to a faint whimper as he rolled himself out of bed.  at the sound, gwangil straightened up.

“hyung?  What’s wrong?”

wonsang shook his aching head, mumbling something about the rescheduled production meeting at 11 that he was definitely going to be late for, and trudged towards the bathroom to get ready.

everything seemed to take five times as long as it should have.  everything was ten times as difficult.  he didn’t bother styling his hair, or even wetting it for that matter - the thought of putting water on his head right now was absolutely repulsive.  as he was doing his best to pat it down to a reasonable nest rather than a rather explosive one, he noted the deep bags under his eyes and wondered what right they had to be there when he’d just slept for over 12 hours straight.  the light was too bright and he had to put on makeup but he didn’t want to and nothing seemed fair and everything hurt.

by the time he left the bathroom, he was closer to tears than ever.

“wonsangie!”  The moment yechan plowed into him, wonsang crumpled to the ground, unintentionally bringing yechan with him as well.  “oof.”

wonsang did not feel good.  he hadn’t before, and collapsing so suddenly threw him into what could almost be called a state of shock.  he could feel that his own eyes were open too wide, getting dried out, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that at the moment.  he scooted backwards until he could lean against a wall, then started wringing his hands, keeping them close to his chest.  a bad habit.

yechan was staring at him intently, saying something and waving a hand in front of his face, rubbing his arm - probably an attempt to ground him - but wonsang was struggling just to breathe.  he could feel things, but he couldn’t feel them, let alone hear whatever questions or reassurances yechan had for him.

“what happened?”  the very distinct timbre of sangyeop’s voice brought wonsang back a bit and he coughed, gasping for air and shuddering as his body processed it.  he looked up at sangyeop and saw that his eyes were cartoonishly wide as well.  “are you two okay?”

“i- i don’t know.  wonsang?  i’m sorry,” yechan said, almost pleading.  sangyeop put a comforting hand on yechan’s head before helping him to his feet, the vocalist quickly filling the spot on the ground next to wonsang and looking him over much more deliberately than yechan had.  yechan and wonsang both watched in silence, the prior filled with worry and the latter still a bit shellshocked.  sangyeop poked and prodded and gently bent joints and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“hey, bub,” he said to wonsang, taking his hands and massaging them.  preventing wonsang from accidentally injuring himself.  “you seem to be okay.  how are you feeling?”

and that was the end of wonsang’s composure.  his hands, numb and clumsy, fumbled around in search of sangyeop’s shirt.  upon finding it, wonsang puled the older boy into a limp but encompassing embrace and started sobbing loudly into sangyeop’s shoulder.  

he heard sangyeop sigh, but knew it was out of something like knowing compassion rather than disappointment.  “hey, what’s wrong, baby?  Is anything hurting?”

wonsang shook his head, unable to form words, but calmed his sobs to soft whimpers as sangyeop continued to pet his head. “i feel sick,” he said quietly.  sangyeop shifted and wonsang panicked, “hyung, please don’t- please don’t leave!”

sangyeop frowned.  “shhh, i won’t, baby, i promise.”

“b-but you’ll get sick, too?”  sangyeop was known to be the most health-conscious of the group.  usually, if someone was sick, he made a point of keeping his distance, so this response was somewhat surprising to not only wonsang, but also yechan, who was watching on with ever-increasing concern after leaving briefly to retrieve a bottle of water, as well.

“don’t worry about that, wonsangie.  as long as you’re okay, i’m okay.”  he pet the back of wonsang’s head for a minute before taking the water from yechan and offering it to the sick boy.  “can you drink some of this, baby?  just a little.”

wonsang made a face but complied, drinking a few sips before stopping abruptly.  “my meeting!”

it took sangyeop just a moment to catch on.  “yenevara?”

wonsang nodded, then winced at the way his head throbbed.  “we rescheduled because i was falling asleep yesterday…”

“i’ll call jihwan!”  yechan shouted, then immediately looked apologetic.  “sorry, sorry,” he amended, whispering now.  “i’ll cancel for you.”

at that, wonsang had to crack a smile.  loud and in-your-face was yechan’s default - it was cute seeing him make an effort to adjust right now.

“you’re calling jihwan?” gwangil stepped into the hallway, bedhead nothing short of glorious.  he stopped in his tracks. “wait.  what’s going on.”

wonsang felt his face heat up in embarrassment.  now that the shock had faded, the tears and the collapsing and the having to cancel all felt a little… shameful.  sangyeop squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring smile before turning back to their youngest.

“can you help me get wonsang to bed?  he’s not feeling well,” sangyeop replied calmly.

“ah, so that’s what was going on!”  gwangil wedged himself under wonsang’s arm and helped him to his feet.  “hyung, why didn’t you say something earlier?  i knew something was off.”

wonsang just shrugged, too tired and ill to explain himself, but gwangil didn’t seem to mind as they maneuvered back to the bedroom.  the bed felt 100 times nicer than the floor had, but that was, unfortunately, the only thing that felt good to wonsang at the moment.  his stomach felt about ready to crawl up his throat.

“we should’ve gone to the bathroom,” he whispered, all of about 3 minutes after being tucked in.  he hadn’t let go of sangyeop’s hand since, but now he did, suddenly requiring both of his own hands to cover his mouth as he gagged, eyes squeezed shut.  he heard sangyeop suck in a harsh breath, and then someone was helping wonsang sit up as he retched a second time.  he shuddered as he choked back vomit, only to lurch forward with a pained heave that forced his eyes to open and fill with tears.

“hey, it’s okay.”  yechan was here and had placed a bucket on wonsang’s lap.  wonsang’s eyes darted around the room.  “sangyeopie had to leave, bub.  you now how his stomach is.”  wonsang did know, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  his tears started spilling over as he breathed heavily through the nausea.

“hey, hey.  don’t cry, hyung.  he’ll be back before you know it.”  gwangil squeezed his shoulder.  wonsang opened his mouth to protest - he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was better this way, but still, he just wanted sangyeop - but his stomach didn’t give him a chance.  with a lurch he bent over the bucket and struggled to breathe through the mess of vomit that spilled from his mouth.  somehow, impossibly, the nausea increased and he retched desperately before bringing up more barf.  gwangil dabbed a wet rag against his skin and coolness of it was a small comfort.

“you’re okay,” yechan said sadly.  whispered.  yechan whispering twice in one day?  wonsang would have laughed if he didn’t feel so awful.  instead he shook his head.  he didn’t feel okay at all.  he squeezed yechan’s hand and doubled over to be sick again.  by then, there was very little left in his stomach and most of what came out was a the harsh sound of his throat trying to reject air.  it hurt, but he had no control over his body.  finally, a thin stream of bile splashed into the bucket and wonsang took a deep breath.  he nearly gagged again at the smell and turned his head away.

“are you done?”  gwangil asked quietly, immediately removing the disgusting bucket of sick when wonsang nodded.  he leaned heavily against yechan, grateful as the older boy stayed quiet and simply began petting his hair.  a moment after gwangil left, sangyeop returned, looking only a tad green.  tears sprung to wonsang’s eyes again.

“you left—“ his voice cracked.  sangyeop looked devastated.

“i know, baby, i’m so sorry.  i didn’t want to make a bigger mess…” he trailed off, lips curving up gently as wonsang pouted and made grabby hands at the older boy.  he slid into the small bed next to wonsang and cuddled up close.  “there,” he whispered.  “better?”

wonsang made an incomprehensible but clearly affirmative noise and sangyeop’s smile grew.  the sick boy was already asleep.  yechan started squirming under the weight of wonsang’s head, but a single glare from sangyeop stopped him.

“i can’t stay here forever!”  he whined softly, hands in the air.  gwangil, who had joined them at the foot of the bed, giggled.  yechan eyed him.  “what?”

“nothing, it’s just… you wouldn’t have let him lay on you in the first place if you didn’t mind it, hyung.  you’re a lot cuter when you’re pretending to be annoyed than when you actually are.”

yechan stuck out his tongue.  “just wait and see who’s annoyed when we all get sick, brat.”

sangyeop snorted.  “you two aren’t making any sense.”

and, well, they couldn’t really say anything to that.

——

*yenevara is a production team including jo/cho wonsang from LUCY, park jihwan (he recently did a cover of my favorite polyphia song on his insta and i—), and o.yeon (she’s so smol and so talented)

note: i don’t love the way this fic turned out, if i’m being honest, but i think it’s just a matter of getting used to writing for another group.  hopefully my next lucy fic turns out better XD

——

feel free to send asks!

[merlins-hurt-comfort]

I’ll be here until you’re okay

Fandom: TS Sanders Sides Warnings: parental emotional abuse, talking about violence (only talking, though), food mention, Roman swears once, Remy’s mother is kind of transphobic and sugarcoats anxiety. Pairing: Remy/Emile Characters: Remy Sanders, Emile Picani, Patton Sanders, Logan Sanders and Roman Sanders Wordcount: 3511

A/N: so first of all, this is for @shut-up-emrys​, i love you lots. the thing with this fanfiction is that it’s kinda personal, i basically put my mother in this story and made Remy go through some of the things i had/have to go through and have them comforted in the end. because that is what hurt and comfort fanfictions are for, isn’t it. whatever. i do feel better after writing this, though.

The early morning sun shone through a little window in Remy's room, lightly waking them on this mild Tuesday morning.

After a few times of turning around, trying to get ahold of the sweet warm sleep, Remy stretched their body and slowly sat up, leaning against their bed's headboard.

They rubbed their eyes and blinked a few times to get their eyes used to the bright rays of sun, lighting up their room- or more accurate- their mess of it.

Remy breathed in deeply but the heavy weight on their shoulders didn't ease. They felt their throat hurting, warm anger rising as they remembered last night's events.

No surprise their mother was involved. Remy remembered trying to open up to her, telling her about yesterday's therapy session. Not to get them wrong, they loved their mother. And their mother loved Remy. At least that's what they were sure of. But sometimes Remy couldn't think of her anything other than hurtful, then again they immediately felt guilty about thinking that way. Their mother was a good mother. She was. Even though Remy felt like her hatred towards certain groups of people outweighed her love for her child.

Remy didn't want to get up. Not this day. A long work day was ahead of them and their motivation non-existing. But since not coming to work due to emotional issues was "just being lazy" and "not going to happen", according to their mother, they slowly got out of the warm bed to get changed while thoughts about other events, similar to last night came crushing down. Like that one time, years ago, when they took all the courage they got. They wrote their mother a letter, explaining being non-binary in all it's details.

Remy started shaking, just as they had been shaking back then, as if they were reliving the whole scenario instead of simply replaying it in their thoughts. They didn't get support. They didn't get thrown out either but that could not be where the bar for acceptance was. Instead, after getting interrupted, their mother tried to talk Remy out of it, brushed it off as a phase and neither of them brought up the whole conversation ever again. That day Remy swore to never come out to her ever again.

But their mother was a good mother, she let them visit a therapist to manage their anxiety issues. After six months of all of their professors talking to her, she finally agreed. She didn't like her child going to therapy. It would not look good on college or work applications, she said. They would never get an "actual full-time job", she said. It would ruin her good reputation, she said. Almost as if that was more important than Remy learning to deal with their anxiety. Almost. She loved them, Remy knew it. They just didn't feel it. But she was a good mother, right? She was. She had to be.

Remy shook their head, trying to get rid of all the memories as they dropped the clothes they slept in on the floor. After last night's argument, Remy didn't manage to do anything else other than walk into their room, slam the door shut and lie down on the bed hoping to fall sleep before the growing heartache would tear them apart.

They picked a blue jeans and a white shirt from The Chair™, put them on and turned around to look in a mirror hanging on the wall to fix their sleep hair. One look in the mirror made them stumble back in shock. All those thoughts, racing and stumbling through their mind, made them forget that this day was their eighteenth birthday.

Usually, they didn't care about their birthdays. What's so great about them? Remy was glad their friends respected their feelings and didn't bring it up. And every other birthday would have been just another ordinary day. But not the eighteenth. On one's eighteenth birthday they would get a black mark somewhere on their body where their soulmate would touch them first. Or next- if they already knew each other.

After a few seconds, Remy stepped closer to the mirror, carefully touching their left cheek with their fingertips. There was a black handprint on their face covering half their chin and lips and the cheek they were so delicately touching right that second. In awe and confusion Remy traced the print of the thumb to below the left eye and the other four fingers just below their left ear. All those thoughts about their mother disappeared, that stain was the only important thing in this moment, until-

Remy was outraged. So their soulmate would slap them? Was that what was going to happen? They scoffed, of course other people got friendly touches and they were left with this.

"Seems like, it's just what I deserve," they mumbled to themselves. For a short moment they considered covering the mark with make up but they decided not to do such thing. If people knew, people knew. And they would know- one way or another.

They put on their black leather jacket and grabbed their phone to leave the house, not bothering to say good morning or goodbye to their mother. She didn't bother either.

On their way to work Remy put in their headphones and let the music take over, trying to ignore the strangers looking at their face, now decorated with a black handprint.

A few miles away Emile stared at his right hand. Today was his eighteenth birthday as well and he couldn't help but overthink it. When he woke up this morning, his right palm was all black.

Emile's thoughts have been creating dozens of possible scenarios already. It could be a handshake, or a high-five. It could be a mark from holding someone's hand. Nonetheless, he worried a little bit. What if he would slap his soulmate? Could happen, right? Less likely than all those other possibilities but with his luck, that's what it was going to be.

He just took a shower and got dressed, a black jeans, a light blue sweater and his brown coat. He then grabbed his phone and backpack and left for uni, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Halfway there, Emile stopped at the local Starbucks and entered the café. It was a busy morning but to see his best friend Remy behind the counter brightened his mood. Somehow, Remy, as the most sarcastic and pessimistic, also unquestionably short-tempered person, always managed to cheer him up. As a psychology major, college took a lot of Emile's time and Remy covered many of their coworkers shifts, but they still managed to spend time together. Remy was working on one of the coffee machines with their back to Emile but their coworkers already noticed him.

From the other end of the long queue Emile watched Patton say a few words to Logan, then take a paper cup from the counter and make his way through the café to the psychology major.

Patton was older than Remy and Emile and already got his mark months ago. Two fine black lines on his forehead, looking like someone would touch him while brushing some hair out of his face. Logan didn't have his mark yet.

"Good morning, Emile. Remy already prepared your daily order!" Patton pulled them in for half a hug and light pats on his back before handing Emile the cup.

"Patton, hey! Thank you for bringing me my hot cocoa." Patton smiled so brightly, it was literally contagious, then pushed up the glasses on his freckled nose.

"Always my pleasure. We wish you a very happy birthday! Let's see your mark!" Emile took his right hand out of the pocket of his jacket and opened it, showing Patton the black palm.

The café employee was fascinated. "That is so cool!!" His eyes widened. "I bet it's a high-five! Or you shake their hand." Emile chuckled lightly, stepping out of the way for some customers exiting the Starbucks. "I hope you're right about that."

"You should see Remy's mark. But I feel like it's not my place to tell you about it." Patton's voice got softer. "They wish you a very happy birthday, they said they will text you after work." Emile raised an eyebrow in confusion. Where could Remy's mark possibly be? He was tempted to just walk over to the counter but even the fact that they're his best friend didn't change that right there and then would not be a good place or time to talk about soulmate marks.

Patton interrupted him spacing out. "Now off you go or you'll be late for your first class." He stopped while making his way back to the counter, turned around and made finger guns, pointing to the hot beverage in Emile's hands. "The cocoa is on us, by the way. As a birthday present."

Emile left the café, thinking about soulmates.

Remy's shift took forever. Even though they had a lot of work, time still refused to pass. They knew every customer at some point stared at the fresh black soulmate mark. And no one said it out loud but Remy knew they all shared the same thought. Their soulmate would hit them in the face. They tried their best to get on with work as if it was any other given day and forget about the handprint adorning their face but with every single new customer looking at them, they got reminded of what would inevitably happen.

After a long day of serving people all different kinds of drinks and cleaning more tables than they could count, they finally registered the cash and Patton locked the store. Logan's shift had already ended earlier that day.

The freckled boy put the keys in one of his pockets, then encouragingly looked Remy in their eyes. "Don't worry about the mark too much, Remy. It does not look like a slapping hand to me." Patton gave them a soft smile. "It's your soulmate, it will be alright."

Remy sighed and buried their hands deep in the pockets of their leather jacket. "I hope you're right. I don't think so, but I hope."

"Kiddo, you need to tell me as soon as you meet them!" Their customers couldn't exactly tell but Patton, Logan and Remy weren't only coworkers, they also were good friends, knowing each other almost as long as Remy and Emile knew each other.

"Of course I will. But only if you'll tell me about yours, and don't kiddo me, you're only a few months older!"

Remy put in their headphones after the two Starbucks workers said goodbye and went their separate ways.

At home Remy carefully walked into the kitchen, stopping close to the door. They watched their mother cutting some carrots for dinner before quietly speaking.

"Mom? I wanted to talk-" Their voice failed them.

Their mother put the knife down and sighed. "Speak, Remy. I don't have all evening." After eighteen years with their mother, she still managed to take away all of their courage the moment they tried to talk about something that was important to them.

"I-" Remy started, but it felt like all the sentences they formed on their way here were gone as if they didn't know any words, as if their head was empty, making room for anxiety to slowly fill their body limb after limb. Remy's heart raced, their body was so cold they felt it in their bones. They already regretted trying to get their mother to make up for last night.

She turned around, impatient of their child's silence, but of course noticed the mark before anything else. She raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like someone's gonna get slapped."

Remy started fidgeting with their fingers, took all the energy their racing heart provided them with to say it as quickly as possible. "I wanted to talk to you about last night." This was supposed to be about last night, not about the mark.

Their mother sighed again, crossing her arms. "Remy, there is nothing to talk about. I get it, your therapist diagnosed you with an anxiety disorder." She took a deep breath, like what she just said had cost her all of her energy. "Listen, we all get nervous sometimes and I could help you just as well, I don't see why you have to see a therapist for that."

Remy tried their hardest to not show their hurt as it climbed up their throat.

"But, mom-"

Their mother cut them off. "Well, thank you for the conversation, I was not done talking. I taught you better than speaking out of turn." She massaged her temple and closed her eyes, letting out an exasperated sight. "You don't understand my situation. What will people think? I need to get used to this."

She turned around, picked up the knife and continued cutting the carrots. A few seconds passed. By now Remy's chest felt like a rattling nest full of angry wasps, their breathing short and uncontrolled. "Don't tell me you're crying."

Remy was close to crying. But they knew their mother- crying was for weak people and they were not weak. They couldn't be weak. They tried to swallow the hurt, pushing it all down to wrap the angry wasp nest.

"I am-", they cleared their throat, taking a deep, long breath. In a voice, as steady as possible, they continued. "I am not crying."

"Good. Adults don't cry." Their mother put the cut carrots in the pot on the oven. "Do you want to help me cook dinner?" she asked, in a tone implying that this whole conversation didn't happen. Remy knew she simply couldn't stand the atmosphere she created. They wanted to cry.

"Actually, I am going to meet Emile."

Remy's mother aggressively grabbed the tomatoes. "I am doing everything for you, Remy." She almost threw them in the sink. "And I ask for help one time, just once, but no." She washed them quickly and started cutting. "I have to do everything myself. You're making me break down, do you hear me? I'm going to break down. You don't ever help me."

"Gee," Remy wondered while closing the kitchen door on their way out and leaving the house. They wiped their teary eyes, then pulled out the phone to text their best friend. "I wonder why."

This didn't go the way they planned. But then again, with their mother, things would never go according to plan.

Emile sat on his favourite table in the local library when he got a text notification. He tapped twice on his dark display to wake it up and read the message.

"Hey, can we meet?" Remy. Emile got excited. So their shift was finally over and they got to spend some time with each other.

He leaned back in his chair and typed. "I am in the library. Do you want to come here?"

It only took seconds for Remy to answer. "On my way."

Emile often came to the city's local library, sometimes to read but most of the time to study for an exam. Just like this day. He shifted in his chair to get comfortable and continued reading and making some notes.

After another ten minutes, he heard the big front door opening and quietly closing. A distant. "Hello, Remy!!"

Emile looked up from his book. Remy was here and that made him so incredibly happy, even though it was kind of late already and he was exhausted from hours of studying after a complete day at uni. He heard a weak "Hey." in response to Roman's greeting.

Emile's heart dropped. That did not sound good. The bad feeling in Emile's gut got confirmed when Remy appeared in his vision.

Head down, hands in the pockets of their jacket, walking with slow, tired steps. As if something had drained them for everything they had- or someone. Emile knew about their mother, she was something Remy had been dealing with their whole life, much longer than Emile knew them.

He stood up and walked around the table to Remy, softly pulling them in for a hug. Remy slowly put their arms around Emile as well and buried their face in the taller boy's neck, holding him close. Emile carefully put one hand on the back of Remy's head as he slowly rubbed their back with his other hand. Neither of them moved.

Remy was safe now. They could cry now. Feeling Emile's beating heart so close to theirs, his warm-sunshine presence all around them, feeling his hands holding them, his steady and calm breathing, Remy finally felt like they could give in to the hurt stinging in their chest, poking the angry wasp nest everytime they breathed in.

The words just spilled over. "Emile, you need to know that I love her. I do." They paused, getting quieter with each word they said. "She just makes it so hard for me. And- and I think she loves me. I mean, she has to, she just has to-" Their voice cracked as tears filled their closed eyes. Remy was glad their face was hidden, that no one could see them this vunerable, even though Emile kept telling them, crying was healthy and human. "I just can't- I just can't feel it."

Emile closed his eyes, fighting back his tears. This was Remy's moment and he knew they didn't get many of those.

"Remy, it's alright. You're here with me now, only with me." Emile's reassurance was nothing more than a quiet, soft whisper, and that was all Remy needed.

"I'll be here until you're okay." As Emile felt their shoulders trembling, he pulled them even closer, holding his sobbing friend in silence. Minutes after minutes passed, neither of them knew how long they stood there, until Remy had cried all that there was for them to cry.

"Thank you, Emile." Remy mumbled, definitely sounding like they were feeling better. Emile slightly loosened up, not enough to break the comforting atmosphere, but enough to have their foreheads almost touch. He cupped their face, carefully wiping away the tears. "Always, Remy."

"Heeeyyy, guys. I just wanted to tell you it's almost closing time."

Emile waved Roman hello as Remy turned around, startled by the librarian who popped up out of nowhere as he continued talking.

"But if you want to stay a few- uh more minutes that's- that's not a-." Roman's words failed him, leaving him speechless for a few seconds.

"Woah. Those are fucking magnificent marks." Helpless faces stared at him, as if he just spoke in a different language. Roman cleared his throat and gestured at the stains. "Yea, your soulmate marks, don't tell me I am the first to see them!"

Emile looked at his hand, the palm no longer black but instead looking like white marble. At the same time Remy carefully touched his face, right where Emile's hand was just a moment ago while they turned around to their best friend again.

They looked at each other. Emile's heart grew warm as he saw the young adult standing in front of him. His best friend with not only a clueless look on their face but also a handprint in the most beautiful blue Emile had ever seen.

Roman was sure, at this point Emile made actual heart eyes at Remy. He smoothly stepped forward and handed them a tiny mirror. He believed it to be of great importance to always carry one with you. Roman then left them alone to put a few more books back in the shelves. It appeared this day he could not close on time, but it didn't bother him at all.

Remy couldn't trust their eyes as they saw their reflection. The hand print that shocked them so much this morning, that made them so angry, that they slowly knew they would grow to hate was now as blue and deep as the sky.

They looked back at Emile, delicately waving his right hand, the palm like white marble. He had a smile that bright, it could easily compete and win against the bubbly-sunshine Patton.

Emile raised his hand and carefully put it on his friend's face. That touch alone was enough to make Remy burst into tears of happiness as they fell into a tight hug. They could have spent hours standing there, holding the other as close as physically possible, if it weren't for Roman.

"Guys, I am having a Déjà vu here." They let go of each other, just then being able to stop laughing.

Emile looked like he would pass out from excitement any second as he very proudly declared: "Well, looks like I have the best freaking soulmate on this planet, huh?"

Remy took Emile's hand in theirs, tracing the grey lines. "Emile." They cleared their throat as they met their soulmate's rich chocolate brown eyes. "I don't need fate to know we're meant to spend our lives together."