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moonlightwritingf1 · 11 hours ago

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Between Goodbyes and Forevers | LN4

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando has to leave to prepare for the new season, and Y/N is super sad and clingy. He comforts her, and they have emotional goodbye sex.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.6k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex,

Based on this request.

Y/N’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside her floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening was winding down, but her mind was anything but calm. Lando lounged on her sofa, one arm draped casually over the back, his signature smirk playing on his lips. He’d been teasing her all night, his words light and playful, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the silence. His gaze lingered on her, and she felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

“Just tired,” Y/N lied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Lando was leaving tomorrow, heading back to Monaco to prepare for the new Formula One season. She’d known this was coming, but now that the moment was here, it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“Bullshit,” Lando said with a chuckle, leaning forward slightly. His eyes narrowed, and that smirk turned into a knowing grin. “You’ve been clingy all evening. Not that I’m complaining,” he added, his tone softening.

“I haven’t been clingy,” Y/N retorted, though her voice lacked conviction. She hated how easily he saw through her.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been glued to my side all night. Even when I went to grab a drink, you followed me like a lost puppy.”

She opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. She had been clingy, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to seem desperate or needy, but the thought of him leaving made her stomach churn.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her hands. “I just… I’m really going to miss you.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he moved closer to her on the sofa. His hand found hers, intertwining their fingers. “I’m going to miss you too, you know. More than I can say.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made her breath catch. For someone who was always so carefree and teasing, Lando had a way of making her feel like she was the most important person in the world.

“You’ll call me, right?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Every day,” he promised, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “And I’ll FaceTime you after every race. You’ll be sick of me by the end of the season.”

Y/N managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but there was a part of her that was terrified he’d forget about her. That she’d be just another girl he left behind.

Lando must have sensed her unease because he leaned in closer, his free hand cupping her cheek. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice like a warm blanket wrapping around her. “You’re not just some girl, Y/n. You’re everything to me. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She hated how vulnerable she felt around him, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “What if… what if you meet someone else? Someone prettier, someone more….”

“Stop,” Lando interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. He tilted her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes. “There’s no one else. There’s only you. Always you.”

His words were like a balm to her insecurities, but they weren’t enough to completely erase the doubt gnawing at her. Before she could say anything else, Lando leaned in and captured her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was soft and sweet, but there was an underlying passion that made her pulse quicken.

When he pulled away, she was breathless, her lips tingling from the contact. “I’m not letting you go, Y/N,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Not now, not ever.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the heat pooling in her lower stomach. She wanted to believe him, to trust him completely, but it was hard. Harder than she’d ever admit.

“I love you,” she blurted out, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face, lighting up his features. “I love you too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “More than anything.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Before she could overthink it, she leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more urgency.

Lando responded immediately, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, and she could feel the heat between them growing with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their chests rising and fallings rapidly. Lando’s eyes were filled with desire, and Y/n could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

Lando didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands trailing down her sides to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it off slowly, his touch soft and deliberate.

Y/N bit her lip, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. She was so used to hiding her body, to covering up the parts of herself she didn’t like. But the way Lando looked at her made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

His hands moved to her bra, and she tensed slightly. “Lando, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice soothing. “I love every inch of you, Y/n. Every scar, every curve. You’re perfect to me.”

His words melted her fears, and she relaxed as he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. His eyes roamed over her body, and she could see the hunger in them. It made her feel powerful, desired.

Lando leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before trailing his lips lower. His tongue flicked over her nipple, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair.

He continued to tease her, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive her wild. She could feel the heat building inside her, her body trembling with need.

When he finally pulled away, she was a wreck, her chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes met hers, and there was a fire in them that made her stomach flip.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He stripped off his clothes quickly, his eyes never leaving hers. When he finally joined her on the bed, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His lips found hers again, and he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body. Every touch, every kiss, was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

He hovered above her, his weight pressing into the mattress, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, sending shivers up her spine. With a gentleness that made her chest tighten, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her, teasing, testing.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening, lips parted in a silent plea. Lando didn’t break eye contact as he slowly pressed into her, inch by inch. The stretch burned just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to him. He paused there, buried deep, letting her feel the full weight of him, the way their bodies fit together like they were made for this, for each other.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost pained. His jaw clenched, his forehead falling against hers as he struggled to hold still. “You’re so tight... so goddamn perfect.”

She could feel every pulse of him inside her, the heat of his skin searing into hers. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low groan from his throat. It was overwhelming, the fullness, the intensity of it all. She felt owned, claimed, but not in a way that scared her. In a way that made her heart swell, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

Lando began to move then—slow, deliberate thrusts that made her head spin. Each stroke dragged against her walls, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She arched into him, her legs wrapping tighter around his hips, urging him deeper, faster. But he kept his pace unhurried, his lips painting a trail of heat along her neck, her collarbone, anywhere his mouth could reach.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hand. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. There was so much in those eyes—lust, yes, but something else too, something deeper. Something that made her chest ache with how much she felt for him.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the dampness of his skin. “I love you,” she whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret, a promise.

His breath caught, and he pressed his forehead against hers again, his thrusts faltering just for a moment. “I love you,” he breathed back, the words raw, unfiltered. And then he kissed her—deep, consuming, as if he could pour everything he felt through that one connection.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

She nodded, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Always.”

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm so deliberate, so unhurried, it felt like time itself had slowed. Every deep, calculated thrust was more than physical; it was a conversation, a language only they spoke. Lando’s hips rolled into hers with an almost unbearable precision, every stroke dragging against her inner walls in a way that left her gasping, her nails carving faint crescents into his back.

She could feel the fullness of him stretching her, the way he filled every inch of her impossibly tight heat. The friction was torturous and exquisite all at once, a slow burn that coiled low in her belly, building with every movement. He leaned back slightly, supporting himself on one arm, his free hand roaming down her side to grip her hip. His fingers dug in just enough to anchor her, pulling her closer as he drove deeper, their bodies slapping together in a wet, dizzying rhythm.

“Look at me,” he said again, his voice rough, strained. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity there stole her breath. His pupils were blown wide, filled with desire and love.

She reached up, her fingers trembling as they traced the damp line of his jaw, the stubble scratching her fingertips. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway. It wasn’t a plea or a demand; it was a confession, a surrender.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he bent his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that swallowed her moans whole. His tongue slid against hers, hot and demanding, mirroring the relentless pace of his hips. She could taste the desperation in him, the way he clung to her as though she might slip away.

And then his hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit in one fluid motion. She arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as he pressed firm circles there, the pressure exact and unrelenting. Her thighs clamped around his waist, her body tightening around him in waves that had him groaning into her mouth.

“Fuck, you feel... too good,” he rasped, his thrusts growing uneven, faltering as he lost control. His forehead dropped to hers, their breaths mingling, sweat-slick and frantic. “Y/n, I—”

She cut him off with a whimper, her orgasm crashing over her without warning, stealing her ability to think, to breathe. Her vision blurred, her body shuddering as pleasure ripped through her, sharp and all-consuming. And still he kept moving, dragging out her climax until tears pricked her eyes.

Her name fell from his lips again, this time a choked sound, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips jerked sharply, once, twice, before he buried himself deep, his release spilling into her in thick, pulsing waves. He collapsed onto her, his weight heavy and warm, their chests heaving in unison.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the two of them, tangled together, heartbeats syncing as they came down from the high.

Lando’s fingers traced the curve of her jawline, his touch feather-light, as if memorizing every detail of her face. His lips pressed against her forehead, lingering there, soft and unhurried. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver through her, and she nestled closer, her arms tugging his tighter around her. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest, grounding her, anchoring her to this moment.

“I’m going to miss you,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, like a secret she couldn’t hold in anymore. Her breath hitched, the weight of his impending departure pressing heavily on her chest. “So much.”

Lando’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing against her temple in a lingering kiss. “I’m going to miss you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Every second I’m away from you will feel like a lifetime.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes searching his face. The intensity in his gaze held her captive, his eyes filled with a love that made her chest ache. “Promise me,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “that you’ll come back to me.”

“Always,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the ache in it. His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. “You’re my home, Y/n. No matter where I am, I’ll always come back to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her lips curving into a small, radiant smile. “I love you,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

“I love you more,” he replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Her eyelashes fluttered shut as she leaned into him, her body melting against his. In his arms, she felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them, holding onto each other as if nothing else mattered. The warmth of his embrace, the softness of his touch, the depth of his love— it was all she needed, all she ever wanted.

And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet stillness of the night, Y/n knew, without a doubt, that no matter the distance, no matter the time, he would always be hers. And she would always be his.

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atlabeth · 3 days ago

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something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep.

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night.

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you.

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI.

But then there’s also… you in general.

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about.

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his.

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him.

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one.

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again.

That bums him out even more, though.

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back.

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear.

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles.

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on.

“Gideon?” he asks again.

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.”

His blood goes cold as the words finally register.

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker.

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words.

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger.

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time.

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.”

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance.

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you?

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this?

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along.

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You.

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous.

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here.

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear.

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion.

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.”

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours.

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say.

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.”

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear.

“I’m assuming you heard that?”

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?”

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.”

“...Good.”

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls.

“I’m not—”

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway.

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him.

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.”

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip.

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.”

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips.

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door.

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather.

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.”

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking.

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well.

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger.

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus.

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about.

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it.

“What the h—”

“Footprints,” he whispers. “Th— they’re almost gone, but—”

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm.

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.”

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—”

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks.

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters.

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!”

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here.

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.”

“He was watching us—”

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.”

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this.

“Just look at me,” he says softly.

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else.

“Breathe with me.”

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge.

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out.

“How do you feel?”

“Better,” you murmur. “I—”

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.”

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background.

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.”

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.”

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more.

“Gideon?”

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says.

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—”

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts.

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.”

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.”

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest.

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets.

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka.

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open.

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.”

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.”

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.”

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug.

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear.

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.”

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.”

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one.

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real.

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.”

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—”

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.”

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all.

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired.

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite.

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.”

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.”

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“What’d he want?” you ask.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.”

“It’s not good for you.”

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.”

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.”

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead.

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.”

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.”

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?”

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say.

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.”

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks.

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.”

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.”

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate.

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you.

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there.

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse?

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.”

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.”

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says.

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it.

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you.

“Very cozy,” you say.

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds.

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.”

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.”

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.”

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.”

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around.

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth.

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up.

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.”

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?”

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.”

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug.

“Okay.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.”

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.”

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?”

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You chuckle. “Still fighting.”

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to.

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything.

“What a day,” he mutters.

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.”

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.”

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.”

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.”

You pause. “You’re… probably right.”

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.”

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?”

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.”

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.”

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.”

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.”

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.”

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.”

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.”

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?”

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.”

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?”

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science.

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows.

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.”

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position.

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.”

“Of course,” he agrees.

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science.

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate.

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.”

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance.

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.”

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.”

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.”

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?”

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything.

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you.

It’s ironic.

“Me too,” he eventually manages.

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good.

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible.

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone.

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep.

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

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demonic0angel · 1 day ago

Note

For whatever reasons, Jazz becomes Damian's foster parent for about a year.

(May I introduce you to the ‘Damian grows up as a Fenton’ AU? XD However, this ask won’t be related to that AU)

Damian felt cold.

“… I’m going back?”

Bruce frowned. “Yes. Of course, you’re going back to Gotham.”

Damian could not help the glance that he took by his side, where the presence of Jazz was absent. Bruce had caught him while he was out with friends, and he had been forced into a conversation with his father for the first time in a year.

Yes, a year. A year since he had been tossed out of the manor for “protection” and put into foster care. It had been hell at first, but Jazz was the most patient, rewarding, and kindest person he had ever met, possibly even above Alfred or Richard.

And now he would be separated from her again.

Damian was silent before he then said slowly, “I see.” Shadow brushed against his legs, ever watching with its wide eyes and Damian could see Bruce recoil at the sight of the strange dog. He resisted a smile and then reached downwards to pick them up. “When am I expected to be leaving?”

“In a week,” Bruce said, grimacing. “We’ll talk to your… guardian and thank her for her assistance.”

Yes. Because taking care of him and showing him proper familial love was merely assistance.

Damian’s eyes were half lidded. “I see.”

Bruce stared at him and opened his mouth. But after a moment, he didn’t say anything and then just turned around to leave. Damian watched him go and when he was assured that no one was looking, looked down at Shadow and said, “Take me back to Jazz.”

Shadow did so with a whoosh of its powers and Damian dropped into the kitchen, where Jazz stood in front of the stove, blinking at the sight of him.

“Damian!” She said, beaming at him, cheerful as ever. “Welcome home! Are you hungry? Go wash your hands, I tried making potato soup today.”

Damian gently lowered Shadow to the ground and then strode over to throw himself into Jazz’s embrace, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her stomach. She startled but then quickly dropped to the ground in a squat, holding him carefully.

“What’s wrong, Damian? Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?” She continued holding him in a hug and her vanilla-ocean fragrance was a comfort as always.

“…. My father approached me. He wants me to go back and he said that he’ll talk to you.”

Jazz froze. Then carefully, she asked, “Do you want to go back?”

Did he?

He loved being Robin and in a way, he had loved his siblings. They had pushed for him to stay but Bruce’s orders had been absolute and whatever he had said to them seemed to have reluctantly convinced them to let Damian go. They still secretly visited and sent him photos on the occasion, but Damian did not miss Gotham City.

He liked being here. He liked the schools here. He liked the curricular courses and the many ghosts. He liked his new friends and being a civilian and walking around town to find blob ghosts and get ice cream on the weekend with his foster uncles and aunts. He liked Shadow and Danny and Dante and Ellie and Samantha and Tucker and everyone else.

And most of all, he liked being with Jazz.

“……… no,” he said reluctantly and then the flood broke through the dam. Jazz never judged him for his acts of weaknesses, and even now, all she did was wrap her arms around him and pull him into a cradled hug, stroking his hair and back as he sobbed into her shoulder.

He couldn’t help but admit quietly, “I want to be here with you.”

The admission burned but it was true. He had never been happier than when he was with Jazz.

Jazz didn’t pull back, only squeezing him tighter. “Then I’ll fight for you. Whatever it takes, alright? You can stay here with me, as long as you want, Dami.”

Damian nodded, tears still flowing from his eyes as he felt the comforting press of Shadow against his side and Jazz’s hold completely encompassing him. He ducked his head into her neck and went slack. She took all of his weight and just held him like he was a babe, tightly, securely, protectively.

The words, ‘I’ll fight for you,’ were a comfort and a promise that he had never gotten before.

But oddly enough, he completely believed in it.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #anon ask #jazz fenton #damian wayne #jazz + damian duo #jazz has a shadow friend #ty for the ask <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 hours ago

Text

‘What’re you doing chipmunk?’ Jason asked softly when he saw that you had rested your head on his chest, ear pressed over where is heart is as you gradually closed your eyes in order the listen to it beat against your ear.

‘Listening to your heart.’ You responded sluggishly, finding comfort in his warmth, in his presence and his arms that tightened on your waist or the hands that rubbed up and down your back soothingly.

‘Does that old thing still work?’ Jason jokes but the idea that despite he had came back, Jason thought that his heart stayed dead and cold within his chest, rotten and broken like he should’ve been buried six feet underground.

‘It works and more.’ You tell him as you pressed several kisses to his chest before going back to listen to his strong heartbeat in your ear, reminding you that the he was far too stubborn to die, even if he did come back against his own will Jason still made his life his own after a few trips and stumbles. To you Jason had truly come into his own and you couldn’t help but love the man who held you like you were either porcelain, or like you were his personal comfort teddy bear, bringing you so close to his chest you swore you would become one with the heart within his ribcage.

‘It reminds me of me that you’re alive, that you’re here, reminds me that you’re still my Jay birdie.’ You whispered to him as your fingers crawled up his hoodie, caressing the bare skin beneath it as your fingers traced over the autopsy scars that took Jason a while to show you, scars that you loved unconditionally as you did the rest of Jason, peppering the scar on his check with comfort kisses and reassurance of your love for him.

For a man like him you wouldn’t think he was insecure with how he held himself, but he deeply was insecure and conflicted with himself and even thought lesser of himself for it.

‘Corny.’ Jason snorted but his heart never failed to show just how he’d be affected by your words or how his whole body seemed to have gotten just that little bit warmer.

‘’You say that but you love it just as much as me.’ You teased as you felt Jason laugh beneath you, a sound that was light and full of love, of warmth and a sweetness of him that only made him more beautiful in your eyes. Jason kisses your head and smiles into it as he closes his eyes, wanting to stay like this for the rest of his life, to stay with you listening to his heartbeat that he thought was dead for a long while.

‘Yeah I do, yeah I do.’ Jason murmurs in agreement, happy to finally have someone to call home, someone to bring him back from the ledge, and finally someone who wasn’t going to treat him like he was going to snap when approaching tough subjects.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagines #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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zuzu-tries-to-write · 2 days ago

Text

Title: Always Waiting

Bakugo is always desperate for your kisses and here are some of the times he’s needy for them.

1. The Morning Routine

Bakugo wasn’t a morning person. At all. But if there was one thing that could make him tolerate waking up, it was you. More specifically, the good morning kiss he demanded every single day.

You barely had time to rub the sleep from your eyes before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his warm chest.

“You’re forgettin’ something,” he muttered, his voice husky from sleep.

You smirked, knowing exactly what he meant. “Good morning to you too, Katsuki.”

“Tch. Don’t care about that—just gimme my damn kiss.”

You turned in his arms, placing a slow, lingering kiss on his lips. His grip on you tightened, refusing to let you pull away too soon. When you finally did, his expression was smug, as if he’d just won something.

“Much better,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “Now I can actually get up.”

2. After Training

Sweat dripped down Bakugo’s temple as he tossed his towel over his shoulder. He had just finished an intense training session, and you were waiting for him outside the gym.

“Damn, I’m beat,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders as he approached you. But then his eyes locked onto yours, and his exhaustion seemed to vanish.

Without hesitation, he stepped into your space, hands gripping your hips as he leaned in expectantly.

“Katsuki, you’re all sweaty—”

“Don’t care.”

You sighed but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. The moment your lips met his, he groaned in satisfaction, deepening it for just a second before pulling back.

“Needed that,” he admitted, as if it were a necessity, like water after training.

3. Mid-Battle Desperation

You and Bakugo had just taken down a villain, and while you were both panting from exertion, his focus was entirely on you.

“Oi,” he called, grabbing your wrist before you could move to check on the civilians. His crimson eyes were burning with something you recognized instantly.

“Right now? Katsuki, we’re still on patrol—”

“Don’t care,” he said gruffly, pulling you toward him. “I almost lost my damn mind watchin’ you fight back there.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at the raw emotion in his voice. Leaning up, you pressed a deep kiss to his lips, feeling him sigh against you. He pulled you closer, as if afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Better?” you teased.

“Shut up,” he muttered, but the small smirk on his face gave him away.

4. The Sleepy Demand

It was late, and you were getting ready for bed when you noticed Bakugo watching you from his spot under the covers. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a line—his usual expression when he was waiting for something.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“…Why?”

His eyes narrowed. “You know why.”

You laughed softly, crawling into bed beside him. Before you could even get comfortable, he pulled you into his arms and buried his face in your neck.

“Missed you,” he mumbled against your skin.

You pressed a kiss to his temple, then to his cheek, and finally to his lips. He hummed in satisfaction, eyes finally closing as he relaxed.

“Now I can sleep,” he whispered.

You shook your head with a smile. Katsuki Bakugo, ever the impatient one when it came to your kisses.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha x you #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo katuski #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha #mha x reader #mha fluff

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asterafroditis · 3 days ago

Text

𐔌 . ⋮ be my valentine? ♡ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Third Years x gn! reader

𓏵 1026 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcannons, no pronouns used, fluff, a bit ooc(?)

First Years are done! Second Years are done, too! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

I think Cater would act like Valentine’s Day is just another excuse to flood Magicam with cute posts and aesthetic gifts. He’d play it off like it’s all for the fun of it, saying things like “Gotta keep up with the trends, y’know?” But deep down, he actually cares a lot about making the moment special for you.

His gift would be trendy and well-presented, maybe something sweet with a cute aesthetic, but if you look closer, there’s an extra personal touch—something that shows he actually put thought into your tastes. If you bring it up, he’ll wave it off with a playful grin, but there’s a rare moment of sincerity in his eyes.

"Aww, you really think so? Heh, well, I guess I did put a little extra effort into this one. Don’t get used to it, though! You’re just lucky I’m such a generous guy—ahaha!"

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I think Trey wouldn’t make a big fuss about Valentine’s Day, but he’d definitely prepare something nice for you. He’s the type to keep things warm and genuine—no flashy gestures, just something that shows he cares.

His gift would probably be a homemade treat, something classic and comforting. He’d hand it to you with an easygoing smile, acting like it’s nothing special. But if you compliment his effort or say it means a lot to you, you might catch the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks before he clears his throat and chuckles.

"Glad you like it. Don’t go expecting fancy things from me, though—this is just how I show appreciation. Besides, sweets always taste better when they’re shared, right?"

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I think Leona would act like he couldn’t care less about Valentine’s Day. He’d scoff at the idea, calling it a “pointless holiday for lovesick herbivores.” But despite all his complaining, he still finds a way to acknowledge it—just in his own Leona way.

His version of a gift is low-effort on the surface, like tossing a small trinket or snack your way and mumbling, “Here. Don’t ask questions.” But it’s too perfect to be a coincidence—it’s exactly what you wanted or needed. And if you press him about it, he’ll groan, pretending to be annoyed, but his tail flicks behind him in amusement.

"Tch. You’re overthinking it. Just take it and don’t make a big deal out of it… Hah? Smirking at me like that—what, you want me to spell it out for you? Keep dreaming, herbivore."

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I think Vil would treat Valentine’s Day as a day of refined elegance. He’s not interested in cheap, over-commercialized romance, but he does believe in meaningful gestures done correctly. If he gives you a gift, it’s going to be high-quality, well-thought-out, and suited perfectly to your tastes.

He presents it to you with effortless grace, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction. If you gush over it or tell him he’s being too generous, he’ll smirk and tilt his chin up, as if to say “Well, of course.” But there’s something softer in his gaze, something unspoken yet sincere.

"Naturally, only the best will do. Did you really think I’d give you anything less? Hmph. It would be embarrassing if my significant other had poor taste, after all."

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I think Rook would treat Valentine’s Day like a grand performance. He wouldn’t just give you a gift—he’d turn the entire experience into something poetic, dramatic, and entirely him. You’d probably receive a beautifully wrapped present along with a handwritten letter overflowing with romantic prose.

His excitement is impossible to contain, and if you get flustered, he only leans in closer, drinking in your reaction with an adoring smile. There’s no need to question how much he cares—he makes it very clear.

"Ah! The look of delight upon your face is a sight more dazzling than a thousand sunsets! Mon trésor, it brings me endless joy to bestow upon you this humble offering of my affections! Ahaha! Do not look away—your blush is exquisite!"

─────────────────────────

I think Idia would panic at the thought of Valentine’s Day. He’d overthink it so much that he’d almost consider ghosting you until it was over. But after an entire night of agonizing over what to do, he’d finally settle on something—probably an item related to your interests, carefully selected after hours of research.

Of course, he’d struggle to actually give it to you. He’d probably send it through Ortho or leave it somewhere with an awkward note. And if you dare bring up how sweet it is, he’ll go into full meltdown mode.

"I-It’s not a big deal, okay?! It’s not like I stayed up all night picking it out or anything—ahaha—oh, Great Seven, this is so cringe, I wanna bury myself alive!"

─────────────────────────

I think Malleus would find Valentine’s Day fascinating. It’s a human tradition he’s never properly experienced, but once he learns about it, he takes it very seriously. He approaches it like an ancient ritual—deeply thoughtful, highly ceremonial, and just a little too intense.

His gift is something extravagant—maybe a rare artifact, an ornate piece of jewelry, or something imbued with a hint of his magic. He presents it with all the solemnity of a king bestowing a royal favor. If you tell him he didn’t need to go all out, he looks genuinely puzzled.

"Why would I not? This is a day to express deep affection, is it not? A mere trinket would not suffice for one as precious to me as you."

─────────────────────────

I think Lilia would be completely unpredictable about Valentine’s Day. One year, he might go all out with the most extravagant (and mildly terrifying) gestures—singing dramatic love ballads outside your window at 3 AM. The next, he might hand you something utterly chaotic, like homemade food of highly questionable origin.

But beneath all his mischief, there’s sincerity. If he gives you a genuine gift, it’s something deeply personal—maybe an old keepsake with sentimental value or a charm infused with protective magic. And if you call him out on how sweet he’s being, he only grins.

"Fufufu! Did I surprise you? Valentine’s Day is so much fun! Now, come, my dear—shall we dance under the moonlight, or shall I prepare another culinary experiment for you?"

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antifainternational · 11 hours ago

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Tips for first-time protesters?

So many tips!

Before The Action: -Watch social media for announcements about the action or any last-minute changes to the plans for the action (like start times, rally points, etc). Be sure that the information you’re seeing is coming from a trusted source.-Probably a good idea to tell someone you know who’s not going what your plans are for getting there and what time you expect to be back. Maybe set up a time to call them to check-in. That way if you don’t call, they’ll know that something’s up. -Check the laws in your area around police powers to detain and arrest people. Find out what information you are legally obligated to provide the police and under what circumstance. Do you have to identify yourself if asked to by police? Do you have to show ID if asked to by police? Do the police have the power to detain you without charge? The answers vary depending on the country or region you’re in - best to find out what your rights are in advance! -Try to get a good night’s rest before the action and arrive sober and not hungover - you’ll need a clear head to make fast decisions on the go!-Try to go with someone else or, better still, a few other people that you know and trust (e.g. an affinity group). That way you can have each other’s backs and bolster attendance numbers too! If that’s not possible, you could try to make contact with a local antifa group and see if they’d be willing to let you join them in arriving at the action.

-If you are going it alone, that’s totally fine, too! You can probably expect other anti-fascists at the protest to be a little bit wary with you at first (due to the tendency of plainclothes police to infiltrate and try to provoke shit), but that’s not a big deal. The worst thing that might happen is that you’ll feel uncomfortable and leave early, but we bet it’s much more likely that you’ll be making some new friends!What To Bring: -Having some kind of official/government ID with you might mean that the cops don’t have an excuse to hold you even longer while they identify you. But this doesn’t always apply or make sense (e.g. for actions where delaying the cops by not revealing identities is part of the tactics). Many antifascists advise against bringing ID with you - it really depends on the region you’re in.

-Cash money - avoid bank card/debit card/credit cards

-Public transit tokens -it’s probably a good idea to bring some N-95 masks for health reasons alone, but concealing your identity is also very generally a good practice (provided you’ve checked local laws about wearing masks at protests beforehand!)

- Wear comfortable shoes. You’re going to be standing for a long time. And possibly doing some sprinting! Dress accordingly! -Wear clothing appropriate for the time of year and season for being outdoors for several hours, just in case.

- Bring water, shouting at nazis is thirsty work

-write down the phone number for legal support in case of arrest. -a change of clothes can help disrupt intelligence gathering by the opposition or police and also make you less conspicuous. For example, one member of our crew likes to bring a small backpack containing a different-coloured jacket, a hat, some sunglasses, and a tote bag big enough to fit everything in (including the backpack) and has been known to quickly duck into an alley or public washroom and switch jackets, put on the hat & sunglasses, stuff the backpack into the tote bag, and emerge looking like a completely different person! This has been a handy tactic when leaving a black bloc-style action to do recon of the opposition, for example.

What NOT To Bring:

-We’d recommend not bringing your phone or shelling out a few bucks to bring a burner phone that you’ve taken precautions to not connect to your person. That phone shouldn’t have contacts listed under real names, etc. If you do bring a phone keep it on lock - we know of cases where the cops or the fash got a hold of someone’s phone that wasn’t locked and then had all their contacts, photos, text & voice messages, access to their social media accounts, etc. Not good! Also remember that the cops could be using technology to intercept calls & texts. Basically, never communicate anything on a phone that you wouldn’t say in public.

-Don’t bring drugs or alcohol for what we hope are obvious reasons.

-Wearing identifiable clothing (i.e. with distinct logos, patches, patterns, colours, etc.) is not a good idea. Try to blend in with what others are wearing (that’s typically an all-black ensemble). Of course, having a change of clothes into something that doesn’t look like protest wear is probably a smart move (see above). At The Action: -If you didn’t organize the protest or are traveling to another area to attend it, it’s good etiquette to follow the lead of the organizers and not start shit that they’ll have to answer for after it’s said and done and you’ve left. -stick together - try to stay with the group during the action and not get cut off from them. -It’s not really ever a good idea to take photos of your side/the good guys at actions although there should be obvious reasons why you might want photos/video of the bad guys. Certainly never take pics of undisguised folks on your side without permission and certainly never post them publicly on social media, etc. You should try to avoid getting photographed if at all possible. -if police are there, use the STFU strategy. Shut The Fuck Up. Do not speak with them. If they ask you a question, “no comment” or “I don’t answer questions” suffices (providing your local laws allow this - be sure you’ve checked beforehand!). -as a general rule, use common sense and pay attention to the situation at hand and let that determine what you do/don’t do. Final tip: don’t over-worry yourself here - for sure make some common-sense preparations before you go but make sure you go! After The Action -make sure you’re safe to leave the action. This might mean traveling with others along a route you pre-planned. Or it might mean arriving at a pre-planned rally point afterwards to make sure everyone’s OK. Watch for people you don’t know following you. It might be a good idea to not travel directly home, but instead go to a public space or a few public spaces first. GOOD LUCK/LET US KNOW HOW IT GOES!

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chevxyn · 3 days ago

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tropes!

blue lock characters as romance stories genre.

fluff, written, romantic, alternate universes.

valentines special.

note; happy valentines day everyone, sorry that i have not been uploading; i am so busy these days :((

ROMANTIC COMEDY — Shidou, Karasu, Otoya.

Shidou, would be the all time favorite male lead if he was in a romantic comedy. you’re the opposite of him. he was loud, and you were quiet.

One of the most embarrassing thing he did was when he came up to you, and fell midway. As you went to him to ask him if he’s fine, he did those cringe pick up lines. Let me just, re-enact that scene;

It was after school, you had just finished your day to day activities, including extracurriculars. Now Shidou, (for whatever reasons) decided to wait for you.

When you went out of your extracurricular room, he suddenly ran himself to you, and before he could jump to you, he fell.

Your eyes widened as you walk towards him, crouching down to his level. And before you could ask if he’s fine, his gaze went to you, finger-guns pointing at you, he says, “Did you see that? Guess you can say, I fell for you.” and winked.

You cringed internally before chuckling, before helping Shidou to stand up, and you both walked back home.

He would also joke to you about him liking his friend that is in his football team more, but if he would really be honest. He would choose you anytime and any day, rather than him.

Karasu, his story on how he fell for you is kind of ironic. So somebody liked you, and told him about it. And he thought, Hey.. What if I matchmake? he did, but, it didn’t turn out like he thought it would be.

When he decided to ask you to become his tutor (even tho he was pretty smart), you agreed cause he said the opposite. Not knowing it was solely to just figure out what you liked and don’t. Unknown to him, with how the two of your chemistry worked. He fell for you too.

“So, you were trying to set me up with someone else?” You chuckled and his hand slithered to your shoulder, “Maybe.” he looks at you.

“You’re not a really good wingman, Tabi.” you said, and he glanced at your direction. “How did they act when they found out we were dating instead?”

“Well, safe to say, they hate me” He smirked and you just leaned into his shoulder, giving a small smile, “But atleast I now have the most amazing tutor.” As he said that you gave his back a small hit, “What was that for?”

“For making me giving my all to tutor you, just to figure out you are smart enough.” with that, he just gave out a small laugh; and he kisses the side of your hair mumbling a small ‘I love you’.

So yeah, he was suppose to matchmake you, he was the one who fell and got you. To him, you’re the most perfect person, and nothing could make you mediocre.

Otoya, he is someone that made a bet. yeah, him, and his friends made a bet on if he could try and get that quiet person on their class.

When he agreed to the bet, everytime he made a move on you, you kinda just ignored him since you knew of his reputation. But after weeks of him pressuring you to go out with him, you agreed.

And he took you to a festival, only to realize at that festival, you are that kind of someone that he would admire. And eventually, he did fell for you, without the feeling of you being bothersome.

“Is this another bet?” You were standing beside him, a year at the same spot they had their first date. You knew about the bet a week after they made it, you weren’t dumb. But you didn’t expect he would fall for you and vice versa.

But here is the two of you, coming back here, at the same night and place of where they saw the fireworks together. “I don’t do bets anymore, babe.”

You just smiled and turned your gaze towards him, “And I don’t play with someone’s feelings.” He continued, “Anymore.” you finished and he held your shoulder.

And he promised as such, to himself. That he will be committed to you, since in the years he had lived, you are the only one that made him comfortable enough.

ROMANTIC FANTASY — Sae, Ness, Kaiser

Sae, He was the Crowned Prince of the Northern Kingdom. Who was the elder brother of your soon to be betrothed, you both first met in the Garden.

The first time you saw him, the two of you didn’t think much of eachother. Although, fate played a game. And the two of you would bump into eachother constantly, from the Library to the same Garden.

Eventually you both did talk more than you would with his brother, and when his father figured it out. They re-arranged the plan. And surprisingly, the two of you didn’t mind.

“[name],” it has been a few months since the two of you got married, and the two of you are set to lead the kingdom together. he called you, and your glance went to him. “Hm?”

“Ever thought what would’ve happened if you had married my brother?” he asked, his hand searching for yours, and when they held eachother, you gave a subtle smile, “i would assume it’d be a less interesting story.”

“I’m glad I got to marry you, Sae.” you said and he smiled, before pulling you close to him. “So am I,” he was so sure he wouldn’t fall for anyone during his life. So at that time when he met you at the Garden, and so on, he knew what true love is, and that is you.

So did he fell for you on the first sight? possibly, did he plan the ‘fate’ on meeting you everytime? definitely.

Ness, You were the knight of the kingdom, While you were walking the halls of the castle, a guy, that looked around your age, was searching for something.

At first, he looked like a guy that was gonna steal something from the hall, and when you stopped him, he panicked and introduced himself.

He was the new Magician, a new entertainer for the King and Queen. He introduced himself as Alexis, a guy from the North.

You apologized for scaring him and he was okay with it, and from there, the two of you were friends. Although there was something there that you couldn’t see.

“So, you defeated a dragon?” Alexis was surprised when you mentioned it and was admired of you, not that he wasn’t. “I did, it wasn’t that hard anyways.”

“You’re so easy to be admired, [name].” A pink hue could be seen in his cheek, and you just chuckled, “Thank you. I mean, you’re an awesome magician too.”

“What— no no, I have a frien—“ You let out a small ‘shh’ sound, “I wanna hear more about you, not that guy.” His cheeks reddened and he nodded. The sunset accompanied them, as they would get to know eachother better.

Kaiser, he was a general, during the war against another, he got shot by an arrow. He thought it was over, when he felt his vision getting blurry and darkened.

He never expected that he would wake up in a forest home, where an Elf came to his aid. It was you, you were kind enough to find him and took him in.

He thought the Elves was just myth, infact he thought he had died and this was just an Angel, but it proved him wrong when you touched his face just to let him know how real you are.

He didn’t wanna leave yet, not when an Elf looking Angel came to his rescue. Infact, he seems interested in you, as you are to him.

“You’re cute, ya know that?” He said to you, and your eyes averted it’s gaze to him, “Hum?” He glanced at your pointed ears, and how you looked at him.

“Come home with me.” He said and you frowned, you know you can’t go. You’re forbidden to go there due to the warnings that the Humans would kill the Elves. “I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”

Your heart raced, and you looked down. “Promise?” And he nodded, pulling your face close to his. Before he gave your forehead a kiss.

SCI-FI ROMANCE — Nagi, Isagi, Rin

Nagi, You met him on a game, VR to be exact. Where he absolutely destroyed you in a shooting game. Cause you somewhat hated losing, you dmed him.

1v1 occurred, and the two of you didn’t stop until you won. Which you did after losing 5 consecutive times to him. But it ended up making the two of you friends.

Months went pass, and the two of you met, it didn’t take long until you get an attraction towards him, and so did he.

The two of you sat down next to each other, on a flying board, enjoying the view of the city. Flying cars was passing by, as he laid down on the board.

And he pulled you down next to him, “The stars, despite dying looks beautiful.” He said and you glanced at him, “It’s like you.”

“..Are you telling me, I’m dying?” You hit his shoulder, and he huffed, “No. that’d be bothersome to think of, I meant you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks heated up, and he laid his head on your shoulder, “I’ll teach you to be better in the game, only if you agree to be mine.” He said and you chuckled, “Sure.”

Isagi, fell down a black hole, and landed on your planet. He was nothing like you ever saw, where you came from you were cyborgs.

He was lucky enough that you met him first, and how two spoke the same language, and that the Planet that he is on isn’t quite as different as Earth.

How the two of you got close is when he figured out that you played something that called “Air-Football” Which was similar to football, but which he plays Professionally.

“So, the rules are just like football.” He said and you raised your eyebrow, “Eh, I guess if that’s what it’s called in your world.”

You were amazing at it, you scored goals after goals, it made Isagi wondered, what if you played the football that he knew?

When he tried it, he was not that bad, he just struggled at the part where well, you float. Everytime he falls, you would catch him.

One time, he fell on you, and the two of you chuckled on how he couldn’t get the hang of it. Honestly, the two of your chemistry was good, he never really had this type of chemistry with someone.

Rin, was a space explorer, searching for his brother. But, while being a planet, he saw someone that was laying down on the green grass. surrounded by flying creatures.

When they woke up, they looked like something that was not from this earth that’s for sure, wings that looks like ones of fairies that he would hear from his childhood stories.

You looked at him with your eyes that was oddly enchanting, and he froze. Before asking you if you ever saw someone that was on his photograph.

“No, I have not.” you had said, as your wings fluttered, your feet off the ground. “Why? is he lost?” You asked, and he looked at you, not wanting to answer that.

But, rather than letting him go alone, you decided to accompany him cause of sympathy. And you joined him, in hope you will find his brother with him.

He refused at first, but he eventually agreed after some persuasive arguments, and to be honest, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

“And this is Earth,” he said, he showed the holographic image, and your eyes would sparkle, he gave a subtle smile at that, he thought you were cute cause you are amazed at everything that he showed about earth, he liked that about you.

©chevxyn

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ghostiequill · 3 days ago

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How they spend Valentines with you:

Law

You think he doesn’t notice but he does little things all day; making your morning coffee, leaving you with the less tedious tasks on board, even accompanying you roaming around the town they docked at

Meticulously planned secret gestures

Spending time together each doing own thing

He allows you to be in his office while he works, an honour few get, as long as you're not too loud

He lets you into his world-showing you his Sora comics/coin collection

Before this, you thought your captain was this stoic, serious man but he reveals his softer, nerdier side-his way of saying “I trust you”

The day ends with you both doing your own thing in his office, sharing snacks in a comfortable silence, no words are needed to say how you both feel

Sir Crocodile

His love language-working you into his busy schedule

Lavish but more personal, time is his most valuable asset and and he chooses to spend it with you

Before dinner, you spend the day in his office, he even lets you have a little control- tying his cravat and wearing his jacket as you both do your own thing

Later rents out a whole restaurant and listen to you talk about nothing and everything, his way of saying you're worth his time

He buys you something extravagant but something you need, practical but flashy, maybe with his jolly roger on it

He will almost never say the words directly, not yet, but as you’re enveloped by his jacket, you see a ghost of a smile grace his lips and his hand brush yours, those feel more powerful than any words could

Corazon

Clumsy but endearing

Picnic date on a hill

Constant conversation, yapping about nothing and everything, end up laughing the whole day-he feels warm and comfortable

Tries to light candles and lights the blanket on fire

He cuts little heart shapes in the sandwiches and fruit for your date and beams when you notice

He gives you something small but personal like a charm he carved himself or a stone that matches your eyes

When he says those fatal words, they come out mid conversation in the midst of laughter, raw and real, you know he means them

Mihawk

Soft, quiet and domestic

He doesn't ask you to be his valentine but

He cooks you a beautiful handmade dinner, complete with a expensive wine from his collection

He offers some conversation, but mostly listens to you, his eyes never leaving yours, lingering on every word you speak

After dinner, he takes you to look at the stars in his woods, pointing out constellations and their stories

He whispers those words you’ve been dreaming of hearing as he kisses you gently, hand cradling your cheek

Doffy

He doesn't ask, you ARE his valentine

Lavish and bold, expensive

He buys you something you do not need but he thinks you would look good in, his perfect accessory wearing something he's given you

He brings to to a lavish party with a possessive hand on you the whole day, proud to show you off but will kill anyone who so much as looks in your direction for too long

Later in his office sitting with him sunglasses off, resting his eyes in his chair, his way of telling you he trusts you enough to let his guard down

He’ll always be too proud to say those words to your face, but you know that in those quiet moments you both feel what you’re both too scared to admit

Sanji

Planned down to the second

Kicks the crew out, docked at an island known for romance,

Breakfast in bed, heart pancakes

Everything is catered to your every need, no need for you to lift a finger throughout the entire day

Later slow dances with ou in the kitchen with a melody no one else can hear but you both

VERY good listener when you talk so he for sure gets a gift he knows you'll enjoy, not necessarily practical but something to show off your beauty and what you mean to him

He pulls you close and tells you, his eyes soft and full of love, pulling you in for a kiss, he wishes he could hold you this close forever

#one piece x reader #opla x reader #one piece x you #mihawk x reader #sanji x reader #doflamingo x reader #corazon x reader #sir crocodile x reader #law x reader #happy valentines day

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abysful · 2 days ago

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Come to my city

Contains: Plot, strangers to one night stand, smut (eating pussy, fingering, p in v, bit of overstimulation)

Summary: You once watched the Sturniolo triplets religiously back in 2022, but college, work, and real life started to take up most of your time. Now in 2025, your younger cousin still being a fan, asks you to be her chaperone to their new tour in your city. An unexpected encounter with Matt after the show, gives you an entirely new reason to love them again.

Word count: 4.5k

For most of your high school career, you worked overtime, taking as many night school courses, summer school courses, and extra credit projects as you could. This resulted in you graduating high school a year before your peers in 2021, but rather than spending your extra year without obligatory schooling on internships and working, you rewarded yourself by spending your gap year completely recreationally.

On the first week after graduation, you were perusing the YouTube homepage when a video by the “Sturniolo Triplets” appeared in the catalogue of video options.

Curious, you clicked it and to your surprise, you were laughing. It wasn’t often that a piece of media made you laugh whether it was a movie, show, or YouTube video— but the triplets brought you both comfort and amusement.In a matter of a month, you went from a casual viewer to a full blown fan. You set alarms at 5:30 on Wednesdays and Fridays, followed them on all their socials, and actually bought merch which was another first for you.

You spent nearly all of what was left of 2021 and entered 2022 immersed in the Sturniolo fandom, other hobbies of yours taking a secondary position. Looking back from where you are now, 17 year old you was a little embarrassing but happy nonetheless.

Your unchecked free time a came to a close when September arrived sooner than expected and responsibilities bombarded their way back into your life. First it was college enrolment, then a job, volunteering, and tutoring for extra money on the side, you couldn’t recall the last time you hung out with a friend, let alone sat down and watched an entire YouTube video.

By the time you reached midterms, the merch began to collect dust in the furthest parts of your closet and your YouTube account was forgotten. Even when you finally learned how to manage your time, you chose to spend the moments you had with nothing on your to-do list by reconnecting with the people in your real life that missed you.

During the summer of 2024, you were spending your well earned vacation at your family home when a few cousins decided to sleep over for the weekend. You were close with all of your family no matter how distant so of course you were excited to reunite with a few of your younger relatives, your favourite in particular was your 14 year old cousin, Andie.

After the usual “how’s school?” conversations with your Aunts, you took Andie up to your room to catch up on life.

The best thing about having younger cousins was knowing that you were somebody they looked up to, at a time in your life when all you did was compare yourself to your better accomplished peers, it felt nice to hang out with someone who thought you were the coolest person ever.

It took no longer than 5 minutes before you were gossiping as if you you were also 14 years old, you brought out your big girl nail polish and did her nails as you both talked about any and everything.

Eventually she made a comment that peaked your interest.

“and me and my friend were sending edits of these YouTubers we like and she said she wanted to start editing and I was like ‘do it’ but she was like ‘no what if I’m bad’ and I kept trying to tell her to just try” she rambled. “You guys are so cute, you’re a really good friend,kid.” you complimented before looking up at her with a smile slowly creeping on your face.

“What” she asked, extending the ‘a’, “So can I see the edits?” you teased.

“Oh my god no” she laughed, cheeks beginning to blush out of embarrassment.

“No please come on, no judgment I swear” you pried, wanting to know more about what your favourite little cousin likes to do for fun.

She paused for a moment before speaking again, “Have you heard of the Sturniolo triplets?” she said so quietly you were lucky that you even heard her.

“Uh of course I have? I watched them like everyday a few years ago” you admitted to make her feel more comfortable to share.

“Don’t lie” she joked, “Andie I’m being so serious, I think I still have their merch somewhere in the deepest darkest parts of my closet.”.

With a shocked look on her face she exclaimed “Merch? Can I please have it if you aren’t wearing it? Please I’ll do anything, when was it from?” she began her tangent.

You spent the rest of the night bonding, sharing your favourite videos as she caught you up to speed on what the triplets have been up to since you stopped watching them.

Now, it’s a year later, April 2025— two months since the triplets announced their 3rd tour.

You didn’t understand why they toured to begin with but since your cousin didn’t get the chance to go to the first two, and nobody else she knew was willing to take her to the newest one, she was texting your phone day after day, begging you to take her.

It’s not that you don’t want to take her, it’s that even after Andie shared her interest with you, you still feel like you’ve outgrown them a bit.

That mixed with knowing that there is a guaranteed chance that not one soul over the age of 16 will be in that venue, is enough to tell her to kick rocks regardless of how much you love her.

As you walk back to your dorm, you receive a text. Looking down at your phone it reads.

“Y/n plz just drive me. my friend saved up her allowance and bought us both tickets we justttttt need somebody to drive us there and home pleaseeeeeee”.

You look down at your phone and smile to yourself, this was an idea you can get behind, you didn’t have to go inside and deal with everything that come with that nor did you need to feel embarrassed being the only adult there.

“Done” you sent the message swiftly before resuming your podcast and walking the rest of the way back to your dorm.

The show was in a week and you were feeling nothing in particular, the only thoughts you had were how happy you were that your mini-me got to have a good time and you paid zero dollars.

Between studying, working and a few nights of drinking here and there, the show day was here before you knew it.

Looking into your closet, an almost laughable thought crossed your mind, back during your Sturniolo phase, you would’ve put on your best outfit if you had the chance to go to one of their tours— mostly for Matt if you were being honest. In your year of loving the triplets, they all made you laugh but Matt’s humour was effortless, combine that with his charm and the fact that, to you, he was the most attractive triplet, it was safe to say Matt was your favourite for more than a few reasons.

So when picking out the outfit you’d be wearing to sit in your car for two and a half hours, you figured it would be stupid to wear a semi-sexy cute outfit, so that’s exactly what you did.

Trying not to do too much as your little cousin is who your really there for, you wore oversized dark wash jeans low on your waist, shoelace as a belt, boxer briefs peeking out for fashion purposes of course, and a tight white cropped tank with the hem sitting right below your rib cage, short enough for your belly ring to shimmer when the light hits it.

Finally throwing on timberland regardless of the season, you make your way down to your care before navigating towards Andie’s house.

The drive from her house to the venue, located downtown in your city, the drive was over half an hour. Music and lighthearted conversation with the two now fifteen year olds, made you feel like a young teenager again, a feeling you didn’t mind every once in a while.

The girls had gone in two hours ago, you’re playlist was getting boring, and your ass was numb, so your best solution was to drive to the nearest food joint and grab something to eat before returning to your parking spot.

You had only been gone for 15 minutes but as you pulled into the driveway of the venue, you seen flashing blue and red lights following the siren sounds of an ambulance.

You park and step out of your vehicle to get a better view of what was going on, standing on your tip-toes, you catch a glimpse of your cousin and her friends standing, visibly in good health, by the ambulance talking to someone positioned behind the large vehicle at a spot where you couldn’t see. You run towards the girls.

“What’s going on? Are you safe? Im so sorry I went to get a bite to eat, I thought the show ended in twenty minutes” you’re frantically examining Andie’s body for any injuries, your judgment clouded by the unknowing of the situation.

“We’re fine” her friend snaps, looking ahead embarrassed, you turn your head with her to see who it was the girls were speaking to and you nearly flinch at the sight.

All three triplets were in front of you awkwardly, before you could ask any questions, Nick fills you in.

“These girls called out for help when somebody in the crowd fainted, we’re just thanking them, they’re really sweet girls” Nick states.

You look between the triplets and back up at the young girls “but you guys are okay right?” you ask once more, in the corner of your eye you see Matt exchanging looks between one of his brothers raising his hand over his chest, communicating how cute he found the interaction.

The small gesture stood out to you, it brought back memories of watching Matt and relating to his soft and tenderness, part of the reason you found him so cute way back when.

You and up straight and thank the triplets for staying close to the people you were supposed to be responsible for, but as you are about to lead your walking stresses towards the car, Andie calls out “Wait, we had merch we wanted you to sign” as she waves down the triplets.

Matt was the first to turn around and begin walking back, only then did Chris and Nick notice the change in course.

“Wait here!” she exclaims as she grabs her friends hand and skips towards the car, you and the triplets slowly make your way to join the girls while engaging in some small talk.

“So I’m guessing the shows over?” you ask the obvious in a shy attempt at a joke.

“Yeah, we closed it off really fast before everyone started to leave” Chris explains, taking the lead in the conversation.

You nodded, silently accepting that the conversation wasn’t going to be very fruitful. The four of you were now a standing a few feet from the car, watching the two girls rummage through the trunk looking for the two hoodies they wanted signed.

You were standing a step or two ahead of the boys when the girls turned around, panicked, “We can’t find the hoodies we brought” Andie cries, you can hear a lump forming in her throat.

“I told you guys to bring them before you left, are you sure you had them with you when you walked to the car” you ask, trying to de-escalate the situation.

Nick butts in your conversation after noticing that both girls looked like they’re about to cry “It’s okay, if you guys didn’t bring them, you can swing by the hotel and we’ll sign it then, we leave at like 8 tomorrow morning” you turn around, slowly blinking and smiling at Nick in gratitude.

The girls thank the triplets, you all say a polite goodbye and head back home.

When you dropped the girls off, your aunt was very clear that they were in for the night and it was way too late for them to tag along so you took it upon yourself to drive back on your own to get the hoodies signed.

The long drive right back in the direction finally concluded and you were stood inside the triplets hotel lobby, when exchanging information, Matt was the first to offer up his number for you to text when you found your way to the location.

“I’m here” you message, expecting one or all of them to run down to sign the articles of clothing and quickly depart, “2205” he replied within less than ten seconds of your message being sent.

From the perspective of someone who only knew the triplets personalities from 20 minute weekly videos in a car, it seemed out of character for Matt to invite a stranger up to their room but your mind didn’t falter from the goal of getting the hoodies signed, walking into the elevator your finger hits the 22nd button, the ascent upwards feeling slower than it was.

A large part of you was excited to privately meet the YouTubers that an older version of yourself would have killed to even exchange eye contact with, you arrived at the door and knocked.

It took longer for the door to open than it did for your text to be answered but as the wooden barrier creaked open, Matt was standing in front of you with a warm smile, the view of his entire room visible from just glancing over his shoulder— you notice that nobody else is in the room with him.

“Hi” you chirp, breaking the thick silence surrounding the both of you.

You look down at your arm wrapped in medium sized pink and leopard print hoodies for a moment before you resume eye contact, feeling slightly awkward at your lack of knowing what to do.

“Uhh” he drags, “My brothers are in their own rooms” he turns his upper body and head around to look back at his room.

“You can just wait here while I get them to sign these and then I’ll come back and give them to you” he suggested as more of a statement than an offer.

“Sounds good” you keep the verbal interaction short and sweet, paranoid that you’d embarrass yourself if you spoke for too long.

He steps aside to let you walk in before walking out, your legs moving on autopilot, you find yourself sat on the corner of the bed that had yet to be used, the corners still neatly tucked and sealed away.

Looking at the sofa, a charger and half drank bottle of apple juice displayed on the arm rest, it didn’t take a genious to gather that Matt had only just checked in, you started to feel like a burden but reassured yourself that you weren’t putting them through that much trouble.

Matt returns with the hoodies now folded in a pile he held in his arms, you stand up immediately but instead of handing you the clothes, he places them on a nearby dresser.

“Today was definitely on of the more eventful shows of our career” he smiles, eyes looking directly into yours.

This wasn’t the shy, anxious, and reserved Matt you remember every time you think back to your time as a fan.

“I know, I bet you’re tired, I’m so sorry again, for keeping you up just to sign the hoodies” everything you said seemed like you didn’t want to keep talking but in reality, you were unnerved by the proximity to a guy you stopped watching but never stopped finding attractive.

“Honestly I can’t sleep, my brothers though” he pauses to let out an airy chuckle before starting again “they’re out like lights, I had to wake them up to sign it” you’re about to apologize again before he stops you mid-thought.

“It’s not your fault at all, this kinda made my day a little better” his eyes never left yours.

“I don’t think I’m following” you state with a lighthearted tone, your best attempt at seeming less nervous and more friendly.

“Seeing the way you talked to your little cousin made my day. I know how it feels to be panicked and anxious and you handled it well” .

You smile at his compliment, “glad I could help make your day” you reply.

Matt didn’t waste a second before starting another sentence, not wanting the conversation to conclude, this was the most effort Matt has ever put into talking to a stranger but he realized almost immediately after meeting you that he needed you in ways he couldn’t say straight up.

He suggested you stay for a bit, there wasn’t much for him to do and he’d been having insomnia most of the tour up to this point.

You didn’t hesitate to accept the offer and two hours later, you had no intentions of leaving yet. Matt sat on the edge of the bed while you sat on the sofa facing him.

“Your cousin was telling us how you used to be a fan” he emphasizes the ‘used to’.

“I definitely was, but life gets in the way of stuff and I didn’t have the time, nothing personal” you finish your sentence but your mouth stays open, implying you have more to say, you do.

“You were my favourite y’know” you finally get out, now looking at the floor.

“Yeah?” Matt waits for you to confirm before making any further comments, his eyes glued to your face while you averted your gaze.

Once you look back up and nod he speaks once more, “What about me” he now has a cocky smile plastered on his face.

“Hmm, looking back, I couldn’t tell ya” you joke before back tracking “No, but I don’t know. It was probably how gentle you seemed, I felt the most comforted by you” .

He looks at you with an expression you can’t make sense of, no signal of intending to speak, you add onto your last sentence “Plus you’re the hottest” you had no idea what washed over you but in that moment, you felt like anything was better than silence.

“Stand up for a sec” he says bluntly, possibly looking like an idiot, you abide by what he says.

He jerks his chin to signal for you to walk towards him, once more, you listen and walk up to where you’re standing between his spread legs as he’s sat on the corner of the mattress.

“I can be gentle, I don’t always have to be” he says in a near whisper.

Rather than responding with your words, you understood what was being insinuated, so you lifted your arms from your side to rest your forearms over his shoulders, letting your hands rake his back.

His body responds to your touch, hairs on the back of his neck now upright, he let it a slow but heavy inhale while his eyes danced up and down your body.

“Can I touch you” he says in a whisper, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue before his eyes found their way back up to yours.

Just as he looked at you, you’re gaze now exploring the new perspective, his lower lip glistened in the dim lighting, the stubble sculpting his cheekbones and jawline, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as if he was fighting every joint , muscle, and artery, to not grab hold of you and do with you what he wanted.

Your eyes trailed from his long fingers to the prominent veins lacing the back of his hands, finally looking back into his stare that never broke free from yours, from where you were standing, his once blue eyes looked black from the dilation in his pupils.

“Mhm” you finally mumble, you too, now in need of him.

His hands slid off the bed and find the sides of your knees, slowly winding and sliding up your legs, wrists rotating so his fingers teeter between the outer and inner parts of your thighs.

Once his palms reach the top of your hips and his slender fingers are brushing against your waist, his thumbs move the fabric of your shirt up to your bra, as he begins placing kisses where your top stops and your skin starts.

The kisses were slow pecks at first, but as his mouth moves lower, he lets his tongue escape his mouth more and more with every kiss.

Once he reaches the waist band of your underwear peaking out from your jeans, he looks into your eyes while unbuttoning your pants, the sight floods your mind and pussy.

Your hands retreat from his back to squeeze his shoulders in a massage motion as you throw your head back, Matt pulls down your jeans to which you respond with stepping out of them and kicking them to an unknown and unregarded corner, Matt let’s out a chuckle before getting back to business.

He stands, hands gripping your hips harder to steer you to lay on his bed, with your legs draping off the side and him standing where you just were.

Your back arches, his hold on your hips travels to your abdomen to push you back down on the bed. Matt lowered himself onto his knees in front of you, head leaning over your lower half, he takes hold of the band of your underwear with his teeth and starts to drag them down with his bite.

“Matt” you breathlessly plead, you back curving as you strain your neck to look above your head while you lie there, you were scared if you looked down at Matt and watched what he was doing, you’d cum before either of you got the chance to get to what you were there for.

He stops mid-pull for a few seconds, now, you have to look down, you see him smiling with your underwear between his teeth, just about to come over your clit and finally reveal your juice filled clit.

Once he knew you were looking again, he pulls them down all the way, jaw falling slack at the sight of your wet cunt reflecting the glow from the lighting around.

Matt didn’t want a second wasted, he placed one solid kiss over your clit before lifting his neck to get one last look, then letting your pussy connect with his mouth.

His tongue and lips focused in on your clit, alternating between circling your pulsating pearl with his tongue, and sucking you with both his tongue and lips, now closer to red that before from the blood rushing to them as he used them to make your world spin.

You didn’t try to hold back the sounds of satisfaction, every time you moaned louder than the rest, you could feel him grin against your pussy for a moment before he resumed.

One of his hands left your hips to circle your entrance, the other finding your ass, squeezing it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded, his tongue found a way to lick every inch of your heat before two of his fingers slowly slid into your pulsing hole. The pace in which they fuck you, picks up the louder your moans get.

The hand that was placed on your hip, releases its grip and slithers down the bed and you hear the sound of his belt unbuckle.

You can hear Matt begin moaning with you, you look down to see him touching himself with the now free hand while the other remained dedicated to pleasuring you.

You feel your orgasm bubbling up, bucking your hips up to get as much pleasure from his mouth and hands as possible, noticing this, Matt’s tongue laps your clit faster until your climax boiled over.

He doesn’t stop even after you cum, continuing his motions as you squirm under his mouth, eventually he unlatches from your pussy with a ‘pop’ sound.

Matt stands up and leans over to his side table to pull out a condom and hands it to you to let you slide it over his cock. After it’s on, you crawl to the centre of the bed but Matt stops you.

“No sweetheart, stand up” he asserts.

Standing up off the bed, he gently but firmly takes you by the arm in front of the floor to ceiling window, turning you by your shoulders so you’re standing there watching over the bright city lights, from behind, Matt speaks into your ear. “You can take your top off now ”.

You did just as he said, tossing your shirt to the side and looking over your shoulder, you feel Matt’s fully erect dick graze your back.

He pulls your lowered half back as he slides his dick in your slippery cunt, his other hand pushes your tits against the glass. He started off slowly, but the sounds of your sopping wet core, was too much for him to keep the ‘gentle guy’ act.

His arm reached around your waist, bear hugging our front as his hand held on your ribs, his other arm reaching over his head joining your tits in being pressed onto the plexiglass. The more you moaned the harder he went, jabbing your cervix, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

Your moans went from loud to near screaming when his hand travelled from your ribs down to your swollen and pulsing clit, you let out a scream and he whispers “tell me how it feels”.

You try to formulate a comprehensible sentence but have to pause between thrusts “s-so good, too g-good Matt”, he trails kisses along you shoulder as his fingers work magic over your sensitive clit.

“I can’t h-hold it Matt” you manage to get out. He takes more than a second or two to respond, through choppy breathing he tells you to cum for him, the both of you hitting intense climaxes, grunts and moans bouncing off the thin walls.

You both stand there for a few moments before he pulls out of you, you remove your forehead off of the now fogged up mirror, drippings from the condensation of your breaths. You turn around expecting him to do the same, but instead he stays facing you, grabbing your jaw and tonguing you, only letting you go after he’s satisfied.

The night ended not long after that, your body being just what he needed to fix his insomnia.

Matt came out of the washroom to see you putting your shoes on and grabbing your pile of signed merchandise.

“Don’t lose my number pretty, I think I’ll be visiting this city a lot after tour, I like the people and stuff y’know” he says to the back of your head while you walk towards the door.

As you place one step out of the door, you turn around to look at his face “Wasn’t planning on it”

You swiftly close to door, wanting to get the last word. As you sit back in your car, you pull out your phone and watch their most recent YouTube video in the silence of the empty vehicle.

An hour later you were laid back in your bed, feeling a bit of insomnia, you figured it was only right to touch yourself to the memory of the last few hours.

Authors note: so I tried to do less chunky paragraphs and break it up more, here’s a little smth for valentines from me to you ;)

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #abysful

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jjunbug · 2 days ago

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hehe don’t even worry about it!! ♡♡ i’m so happy that i can finally read all your love thoughts on the prologue!! i’ve been waiting for this~~ but will do! 🫡

THE PLAYLISTTTT!!! i spent so much time on it hehe i’m glad that you like it!! and hehe the bog bodies i love that song so much and it fits so well with the future chapters too!! i’m excited for you to see it all ^^

but omg you got the subtle foreshadowing here!!! i love YOUU!!! and the worldbuilding hehe i’m so so happy that you like it so much!! and your super sweet words… stop i could cry. i’m so happy that my writing comes off so atmospheric and so visual that you can see the words like a movie!!! that’s like the greatest compliment ever and one of my goals, so you have no idea how glad i am to hear this!!! ♡♡ and published fantasy books??? i’m sobbing rn omg thank you?????

but yes!!! change is so so jarring and is literally nothing like how the (older) adults in our lives explained it to be and i wanted to show that in various ways. it’s something that i personally struggling with a lot and i’m so comforted but the fact that so many others can relate to me with this and also feel comforted by my words about it!! it truly reminds me that we aren’t in this all alone ♡♡♡

LMAOO😭 you asking if she’s a slave is killing me PLSS,,, i wouldn’t say she’s a slave, but she’s kinda like cinderella except there’s no evil stepsisters or anything just her!! her and her evil “mother” lamia lmao… but and the hound playing during all of this??? oh my… that would rip my guts out too… but hehe thank you so much!!! i literally start ascending when people compliment my music taste (∩˃o˂∩)♡♡ and lost playing while kai is introduced???? spotify perfectly lining up songs for you while reading omg,,, don’t even get me started on my blood,,,,,,

me??? a poet???? hehe stoppppp~~ (๑˃ᴗ˂) i use to be completely obsessed with poetry tho, so this is literally like the highest of compliments!!! reminds me of when i was in high school my english teacher had us write poems and she hung mine up for everyone to see for the rest of the time i was in high school lmao. but you complimenting my write,,, i will start crying omg.

but yesss!!!!! i love kai in this sm~~ him being all smooth and being like “well all queens need a king right??” like i’d literally melt on the spot me and mc are the exact same!!! and then him kissing her hand like OMGGGG,,, but yes hehe~~ this is just the prologue you’re not prepared for everything that goes down in chapter one…!!!

it’s okay lmao i laughed writing it😭😭 same with when i came up with green thumbs. i was like WAITTTT??? am i… a genius???? can you tell i spent wayyyy to much time coming up with the names of literally everything?? the oc names, the name of the inn, the name of the school…. hehe so much to tell~~ there’s literally SO much foreshadowing jam packed into this prologue that i’m so curious on how much everyone caught!!!

althea >>>>>>>>> lamia, that’s all i’ll say.

but yes yes yes THIS!!! him immediately going to her and content to just sit with her in silence if need be… literally besides althea, the only people they have in the whole world at that moment is each other, it’s so strangely comforting and so sad at the same time!! but i’m so happy that you like the dialogue!!!!! you don’t understand how many times i reread all of the paragraphs out loud just to make sure everything flowed well and that the dialogue didn’t seem so clunky… like it was kinda embarrassing but i’m so happy that it came out well!!!!!

and the artwork that inspired all of this!!!! you don’t understand as soon as i saw it i was like YES!!!!!! i need to write something about that IMMEDIATELY. i love artists and writers and poets so so much too, where would the world be without them??

but yes hehe all of the comparisons, i’m so happy that you caught it!!!! and i’m so happy you liked the inner dialogue too!!! i kinda did it a different way so i’m happy that it all paid off!! BUT YOURE LITERALLY SO SWEET AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AHHH!!! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )♡♡♡ THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!!!!! TRUST i will publish a book one day and i’ll never forget all the kind things you and so many others said to me that lifted me up so high. literally going straight into my dedications and i’m so serious.

the timestamp for burn it down by daughter is killing me tho LMAOHSIFHJDFNJDD that’s so funny😭😭

literally gonna cry reading this like,,, i’m so happy that you enjoyed the prologue and thank you so so so so SO much for reading!!! ♡♡ i’m so excited to hear your thoughts about chapter one when i (finally) release it!!! hehe i hope you stay tuned!!!~~

BETWEEN TWILIGHT SKIES ───𝓅𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾: 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

in a world that’s on its dying breath, the once green and lush landscapes get buried in more and more layers of ash. the once flourishing streets that were full of magic are now a dull hum. yet, there is still hope—and it lies in the hands of you and kai, the last people to possess magic. suddenly, you remember the story of a forest that watches, and a well of life that lies deep within. you’re determined to save your bleak world in any way that you can, yet, you weren’t expecting to end up in a brand new world entirely.

pairing ⸝⸝ huening kai 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳!𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢 (𝘰𝘤) & 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳!𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢 (𝘰𝘤)

genre ⋆ 📖 ⸝⸝ angst, fluff, a lot of yearning and longing (both romantic and platonic), magic, sorcerer!kai

warnings ⸝⸝ kidnapping, toxic environments and parental relationships, implied bullying, two instances of reader getting slapped, violence, death (of people & animals), depictions of gore, implied anxiety attack and abuse, hand holding & staring into each others eyes, tension filled kissing

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ the series has finally started!! now listen, listen, listen!! i know what you’re thinking, “a prologue and it’s 7.6k????” but i need you guys to STAY WITH ME!!! stay with me and lock in and after reading it all you’ll understand why it had to be this long lmao… next chapter you’ll meet yeonjun hehe~~ i hope you enjoy!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ❨ 7.6k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓼𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝒎𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

‎ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ 𐦍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏NEXT ⤇

The world around you had begun to wither away and decay long before it had started to end. As most things do, the rot had started to creep its way in through love. It had used it as a gateway, spreading its sickness all throughout the things you touched until it was the thin wisps of ash coating your cracked fingertips. Still, you let the rot in—let it corrupt the things you loved and change them into something unrecognizable, something unimaginable—something that was now dead and gone. You just couldn’t let go of the small doses of love you were granted with—naively gulping down tasteless sips to fill that hole inside your heart left by people you never even really knew.

You cradled love like a child guards its favorite toy; with fear and hesitancy. It was clear in the way your body hunched over and you looked up at every grown-up through wet lashes. Obvious in the way your dirty clothes hung limply from gangly limbs—once a tight fit but now they seemed to be made for a child much older than you. It must’ve been what enthralled her, what made her decide to pluck a random child no older than five off the street in the middle of the night and take them home.

In a way, you guess you had to thank her for the senseless crime she committed; for it gave you a warm bed to lay your head at night and food to fill your growling belly. It didn’t bother you that it all had come at a price, in fact, you were none the wiser. But, you’d know soon enough. The mask can only stay on for so long before it starts to crack—before it starts to rot like everything else did.

Lamia, is the name she sweetly whispered next to your ear as she tucked you into a bed that was never yours that night. “But, you can call me Mom,” she said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was hard watching things change in front of your very eyes. It was never the way people described it for you. Not the slow twist of vines along a column or the grass growing taller than a fence—no. It was the whipping of wind across your face. You’d go to wipe your teary eyes and find the sunny and warm scenery was now cold and dead with glittering snow laying everywhere.

You hated it.

You wished that things could stay as they were for as long as they could. You hated watching the faces of people you’ve grown to know dip and sag with age in an instant. You hated watching the life leave their eyes in a quick blink. And you hated how life seemed to go so slow for everyone except for you.

If you could dare to wish for one thing, it would be more time.

Sweet nights and even sweeter days began to sour, and Lamia—your mother—wasn’t as kind as she used to be when you were still a child. You think that that is what hurt the most with this odd whipping of wind, that you were forced to watch the love your mother held for you leave her eyes faster than you got to grow up to the young teenager you were today.

“Welcome to the Freywolf Inn!” you heard her voice exclaim to the ringing bell of the door. It was a careful blend of welcoming and cheerful. The sound was drowned out of your ears by the incessant sound of a brush against hardwood and soap mixing with water. You sat back on your knees, throwing the brush into the soapy mess and letting it clang against the floor, sighing. You wiped the back of your wet hand across your forehead and sucked in a breath.

Your knees ached and your hands were sore and cramped. This was the worst part of your mornings. No matter how hard you scrubbed these wooden floors, it wasn’t enough for Lamia. If they didn’t shine as if freshly polished when you were done then you scrubbed them wrong and she made you clean them again. Standing up on weak legs, you looked over your shoulder at the new customers as you reached for the bucket of dirty soap water. A soft gasp left your lips and you had to hold on tight to the bucket handle with both hands to ensure its contents didn't go spilling all over the floor.

You’d recognize them anywhere—the Collective, with their hooded, light forest-green cloaks embroidered with gold filigree and its golden satin insides. You never saw a member in person before—not that you were particularly excited to. Seeing a member of the Collective, so far away from the School of Pith, could only mean one thing…

The rot was here.

Frozen like a deer caught on sacred ground, you stared wide-eyed at them as they made their way to the common room, their carefree laughs carrying in the air around them. It felt like a bad omen—a confirmation. You tried so hard to ignore the fate of the things around you, but seeing that you could no longer hide from it was like a punch to your stomach.

Strangely, you also couldn’t help but be morbidly fascinated by it all. You exhaled slowly, steadying your racing heart and stilling your shaking hands that grasped the handle of the wooden bucket. Distantly, you felt the sting of pain across the back of your hands and shut your eyes. Only when every last molecule of air was absent from your lungs did you allow yourself to gulp in more to soothe the burning—just like your mother taught you.

Your eyes fluttered back open and landed on the group of sorcerers. They playfully practiced their magic out in the open—ringlets of green floating in the air and curling around their fingers and forearms. Their hands moved in peculiar ways, a jerk here or a smooth twist of their wrist there. You couldn’t understand it, but the more you watched them perform magic in front of your very eyes, the more you wanted to.

One member stood out to you in particular. He sat off to the side, a small distance away from where the others engaged and practiced their magic at, by himself. Dark hair fell over his warm-brown eyes, but you could still see how kind they were as they watched the other members of the Collective almost fondly. His green hood was over his head and he fiddled with the seams of his white pants with pale hands. There was a ghost of a smile on his face and—unbeknownst to you—there was one on yours too.

He didn’t practice his magic like the others did. He seemed content in just watching, having no need in the selfish display of power the others showcased. It piqued your interest what set him apart from the others and already you could feel a growing favor blossom in your chest for the boy.

He had to be only a few years older than you were and your cheeks warmed at the thought. He reached his arms up and pushed the hood backwards off his head, seemingly oblivious to your staring as were the rest of them. The filtered daylight washed over his body and you saw him more clearly. Your eyes greedily scanned over the slopes of his face, desperate to take him all in as quickly as you could. You couldn’t lie, he was beautiful.

You trailed your eyes over to the wisps of the green in the air. It’s different knowing that magic exists in a world so bleak and actually seeing it in action. It made you wonder where the ash was here in your small village—the rot—so you could watch them smother it. You needed to see those ringlets of green curl around it tighter and tighter until it didn’t exist anymore. Until all of the ash was gone for good.

You wanted to know what it felt like to wield such magic. Your fingers itched to replicate their movements in hopes that green wisps of your own would emerge. Maybe then would your touch not bring about destruction.

A hand roughly grabs your shoulder and breaks you away from the trance you were under. “Stupid child! Can you not hear?”

Lamia’s wrinkled face startlingly comes into view and you feel the bite of her nails in the flesh of your arm through the fabric of the thin dress you wore. You stammered, unsure of what to say and what her previous words were, and blinked rapidly at her accusation.

Wind whipped across your face and too late did you feel prickling pain spread across your cheek. The inn fell deathly silent and your eyes started to water. You swallowed down the lump in your throat thickly, your watery eyes finding your mother’s. “When I ask you a question, you answer it. Do I have to repeat myself?” your mother asked you.

Slowly, you shook your head and willed yourself to find your voice. “N-no, mother.” Your voice came out in a quiet squeak, completely pathetic and weak.

“Good,” Lamia responded. “Dry these soap-covered floors before our customers slip. Then, I want you to ensure the rooms for them are ready.”

“Yes, mother,” you said in that same weak voice.

She looked you up and down for a moment before tsking. Then, she turned on her heel and returned back to where she was behind the counter beforehand. Smoke curled from her mouth as she leisurely flipped through the sign-in book, unaware of the way time changed around her.

You swallowed thickly again, fingers tightening and untightening around the handle of the bucket you still held. Slowly, you turned just enough to look over your shoulder at lounging customers. No longer did they smile and laugh with a carefree attitude and swirls of green in the air. Instead, they stared at you with barely disguised shock. Your gaze snapped to the boy you were spellbound with earlier to find him staring too, mouth slack and sitting at the edge of the couch like he was eager to stand. His eyes met your teary ones and you broke away from the sudden connection.

Lifting the bucket closer to your chest, you rushed off into the direction of the rooms, embarrassment weighing you down and the once unshed tears now falling down your face. You ignored the sloshing sound of the water inside of it and the way the wood hit against your stomach, spilling over the metal lip and onto the floor below, creating an even bigger mess.

Sniffling, you hid yourself in the supply room. Your tears fell freely and a large sob wracked your body. You let the bucket slip from your fingers just inches from the rocky floor without a care and with a piercing thud. Stupid, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Get it together. Stop crying.

Yet, the tears wouldn't stop. You heaved in breaths of air that refused to reach your lungs. You didn’t have time for this. If the floors weren’t dry and the rooms weren’t checked on in a timely manner then you’d get worse than a slap across the face. Harshly, you dug the palms of your hands into your cheeks and wiped away the fallen tears. You compelled yourself to take a deep breath, to let the oxygen reach your lungs and not be blocked by the false closing of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took in another deep breath, and another and another until your body no longer began to tremble. You straightened your back so you weren’t hunched over anymore and wiped your hands down the front of your damp dress. When you felt like you weren’t unravelling at the seams only then did you step out of the supply room to face the world.

Instead of the loud chattering coming from the Collective like from when they arrived, it was quiet and sparse whispers. When you got closer to where they were in the common room, the whispers grew.

You tried to drown their whispers out—opting to instead get to work on your mother’s request. Dropping to your knees, you took the clean towel and aggressively dried the wet section of hardwood floor beneath you, letting all your focus fall onto the repeated action.

Footsteps sounded behind you, but you didn’t hear them until an unfamiliar voice stunned you from your focus. “If I may?” the voice asked. You looked to the side, eyes meeting dirty brown boots whose eyelets caught in the bright sun. They trailed upwards to white pants and gold embroidered filigree onto a light, forest-green velvet fabric. Your hand halted its aggressive drying as your eyes ascended further to meet the boy from earlier’s handsome face. Your eyes widened to saucers and his seemed to be just as big as they looked down at you. “It will all go faster if I do this,” he continued, some of his words wobbling around the edges.

You remained silent, not trusting your voice to not come out raw and abrasive. The boy extended a hand out in front of him and with a twist of his wrist wisps of green emerged and wrapped around it. They swirled out around the two of you, lightly fogging across the floor. You turned to the wet floor in front of you and watched as it suddenly dried, the wood shining in the sunlight pouring in from the window. Your jaw slackened as your mouth fell open.

“It was a simple spell—you shouldn’t have to be on your hands and knees drying a floor,” the boy stated, the second part lower than the first so your mother didn’t hear. He outstretched his hand to you. Your mouth was still open as you turned back to stare blankly at his hand. An amused and warm smile pulled his cheeks upward and you suddenly came to the realization that you must’ve looked ridiculous.

“T-thank you…” you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper, still starstruck by the display of magic and the boy’s smile. You straightened your back before blinking a couple times. Clearing your throat, you accepted his outstretched hand and the boy helped you to your feet.

He chuckled and you felt your knees weaken more. His hand was still holding yours, the both of you forgetful as your gaze seared into each other. The smile slowly fell from his face, his lips parting with unspoken words as he gaped at you as if bewitched. Snickering to your side brought the two of you back to real life and you pulled your hands away from each other.

“Uh,” the boy said, clenching the hand that was just holding yours and trying to form a coherent sentence. His gaze snapped briefly to the other members of the Collective before landing on you again. “U—No worries! It was nothing, really. Kai.” He stammered over his words before his eyebrows raised. “My name. It’s–I’m, uh, Kai.”

Kai outstretched his hand again before he thought better of it and swiftly yanked it away, instead rubbing the back of his neck with it. If you weren’t so disoriented you’d laugh, but you just stare at him instead, the heat slowly creeping up your neck. You then realize how much of a mess you must look and quickly wipe your cheeks to get rid of any remaining tears. “Um,” you start, “I… I’m—”

Your name slices through the air like a knife. You jump, eyes darting over to where your mother stood behind the counter, a saccharine smile pulling her lips as she looked at the two of you. It felt as if you were watching a snake rattle its tail. Looking back to Kai, you offer him the tiniest of smiles before rushing away again, leaving him standing alone.

You’re not quite sure when the obsession with magic started. Maybe it was when you saw how carefree the Collective looked wielding it, as if it was second nature. Or, maybe it was when Kai had so graciously used it to help you out so you didn’t have to spend the remainder of the morning on your hands and knees. All you did know was that it had sunk its claws inside of you, gripping fiercely at your heart and making the hole inside of it larger.

Maybe it was when you started sneaking away from, or even downright rushing to finish, your duties so you could watch them practice magic. Maybe it was the rush you got watching their hands twist and jerk in specific movements for specific outcomes, green coils emerging from the motions.

But, you think it started when you lifted your hands into the air, daring to copy them.

At first, it was nothing, and frustration built up like a brick wall inside you. Then, that frustration turned to resentment, and that resentment into anger.

The Collective were here for a week so far and you weren't sure how long you had left before they departed. Why weren’t you born with magic like they were? If you had magic, it would change everything. No longer would everything rot around you when you could smother the rot all out—bring everything that has long been dead and gone back to life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

You flicked your fingers in the air angrily as green smoked around the member’s fingers and not yours. Something a mix between and groan and a growl emerged from your throat instead. But, you were determined—and you refused to give up.

Perfecting the twists of your wrists and quick jerks of your fingers, you exhaled steadily and focused on getting the same result the member of the Collective did—cracking open a single walnut without touching it. The walnut sat on the floor in front of you mockingly and you scowled at it before focusing again.

“Come on,” you whispered to yourself. “Come on, come on. Work, please.” With one final twist of your wrist, you heard the distinct cracking sound and a soft gasp pushing between your lips. Your face broke into a smile and it took everything in you not to cheer at the top of your lungs. You watched the slightest hints of green feather away around the lengths of your fingers, so fast the color was barely distinguishable. A smile spread across your face from ear to ear.

“Yes!” you proclaimed, taking care to keep your voice low. A pleased laugh left your mouth and happy tears filled your lash line, “Yes!”

Your view snapped back to that of the Collective in the dining hall. You listened to the way they joked with each other and made water spin into wine—getting themselves drunk and red-faced. As your stare analyzed them, you noticed that Kai wasn’t among them.

It was odd, you thought, but it reminded you of the first time you saw him and how he sat apart from the others. How different he seemed from them. Just from watching the Collective members interact, you already didn’t like them. Maybe Kai felt the same.

You haven’t talked to him since that day—haven’t really seen him around besides quick glimpses, either. A peculiar feeling stirred in your chest and you weren’t sure what it meant. You just hoped that your paths would cross again.

When you weren’t at Freywolf Inn, you were at the craft guild with your nose buried in a book. You were there so often that you were on a first name basis with the stationer, Althea, a sweet lady who distinctly had the look that reminded you of a barn owl. In the entirety of your small village, it seemed Althea was the only one who wasn’t victim to the rot. You felt safe being around her—and she always remarked how much you were like a daughter to her.

She let you freely borrow the books she received or binded and even let you hang out behind the counter while she dealt with artisans and people wealthier than you could ever imagine who came to see her from all over the world. You remember asking her one day why people came from all over to see her wares.

“Not that they’re bad,” you quickly added, leaning the open book onto your thighs as you looked up at her from your hiding spot underneath the counter. She threw you a witty smile over her shoulder from the press she was at, hair the color of cinnamon sticks falling over her shoulder. The two of you felt as if you were moving at the same speed—you barely realized the fact that streaks of white slowly became more prevalent in her hair. “I mean, this is just such a small village… Wouldn’t they go to communes or the King’s Roots where the school is?”

Althea’s voice was nothing like you’ve heard before despite her saying how she grew up in the village. It had a strange accent and the way she spoke was like silk against the bark of a tree. Althea turned from where she worked to meet your questioning look, leaning over and resting her elbows on her knees so she was just about eye level with you, “Not… quite. See, I offer words that you won’t find on a shelf at the School of Pith. Illustrations they wouldn’t dare to let one of their students witness.”

You sat up more underneath the counter, completely abandoning the still open book in your lap. Your eyes shined with curiosity and Althea laughed—a sound that resembled crackling fire. “What kind of words?” you asked her.

“Knowledge, my owlet. There’s much more out there than the green thumbs of Pith—the royals and the wealthy.” Althea spat out green thumbs like food stuck on her tongue. You knew she never liked the Collective, but to this day, she still never told you why.

Althea stood and walked over to one of the shelves that you never touched, but was always only open for certain customers who came inside the guild hooded and quiet. Her finger ran along the spines as her white brows drew together, “There is a forest in this world, buried deep within another.” Her brows lifted as she found the book she was looking for and she made her way back to the counter.

You crawled from beneath the counter, twisting to watch as she laid the thick book down onto it and opened it to the beginning pages. You gently discarded the book you were reading off to the side of the counter, your focus now on the twirling of words and stirring drawings. Althea’s fingers gently caressed the pages. Her face was distant and longing, like recounting a memory that happened centuries ago. “The Forest That Watches, it is called,” she continued. “It’s white-barked trees have black eyes drawn onto them by people from long ago and its drooping pink leaves kiss the sacred ground.”

For a moment, Althea was quiet. You waited patiently, decidedly taking in the open page until she was ready to speak again. You could tell that this forest was a sensitive topic for her and you didn’t want to pry. You looked up at her when she wrapped her arm around your shoulders. She regarded you with a fond smile, “The forest has never been found, though, and it remains watching—waiting. Its pink leaves hide what’s inside; the Well of Life.”

With her free arm, Althea flipped through the pages until it landed on the Forest and the Well. “Woah,” you muttered, leaning forward to get a better look at it. Even from the illustrations you could tell how beautiful it was, feel the magic that radiated from it all.

You knew why it hadn’t been found yet—why it never could be. That much power in the wrong hands would be detrimental. But, you couldn’t help but wonder how different your world would be if it had access to the magical waters Althea was telling you about.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Althea breathed wistfully. “We’ll meet there one day… under the pink leaves and drink from the Well.” She returned her gaze to yours. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Then the turning of the sun won’t seem so fast.”

You sighed to yourself as your eyes fell back to the pages. You leaned your head into Althea’s side and she wrapped her arm around you tighter. “That would be nice,” you say.

In the darkness of the night, you let the shadows listen to your deepest wishes. And how you wish that it was Althea who plucked you from the streets instead of Lamia.

You wander Althea’s shelf now, hands running along the spines. Your fingertips still buzz with the magic you emitted earlier and you swear you can feel the contents of the shelved books calling out to you. Stilling, your fingers halt onto a book. The pull was just too strong to deny and when you turn your head to read the spine you find that the lettering has been rubbed away by time. You hum in slight annoyance before pulling the book from the shelf.

You can feel how Althea’s eyes trail you, especially when you walk over to the counter to take your familiar spot under it. In the corner of your eye, you can see her head tilt. “You feel different. And you’re quiet—quieter than usual,” she says quizzically.

Looking up from your book, a corner of your mouth raises. “Magic, Althea…” Your face breaks out into full-on excitement. “I have it! At least… sparks of it…”

Althea’s face doesn’t change from its quizzical expression. She shifts in her seat in front of the press. “Green?” she asked you, accusatory. You're unsure whether her accusatory tone was towards you or not.

The excitement swiftly falls from your face and you sit up more under the counter. “I… Yeah…” you mutter, avoiding her stare.

“It can’t be,” Althea states matter-of-factly. Her white brows furrow, and she looks away from you. “Can’t be…” she quietly trails off, more to herself than to you. “Green is… can’t be, can’t be. Doesn’t make sense.”

“I think it was green…” you pipe up, voice falling flat towards the end when her piercing black eyes snap to yours. “I didn’t really see the color, it all happened too fast.” It was true, but in your heart you wished it was green. You just wanted Althea to stop acting all fidgety and looking at you the way she did. You held the book in your arms closer to your chest and Althea’s gaze dropped to the movement.

Althea’s body physically relaxed from the tense state it was in, and if you looked close enough, you thought you could see the ghost of a smile on her lips. She hummed, suddenly pleased, “Magic… how enchanting. Have I told you about the White Fawn? Or, the prophecy of Eternal Winter?”

Your brows knitted at the change in her demeanor, but you concluded that it was better to leave it be. You shook your head at her question. “What about faeries?” Althea asked.

“No,” you responded, “what are they?”

Althea slid to the ground in front of you, a grin pulling her mouth and exposing her teeth. She tapped the book you desperately clutched to your chest with an ivory finger. “Why don’t you take a look?”

You giggled to yourself, letting your arms flow in the harmony of the wind. You twirled and moved your body to the tune of nature—to the sounds of the forest’s edge behind you with its rustling leaves and chattering animals. The crown of sticks and fallen leaves fell down further onto your forehead and you laughed more. You didn’t even notice the single brilliant blue butterfly that landed on it and completed your costume.

If your mother saw you right now, she’d be furious. She had sent you out here on punishment with the intention of having you clean the stables behind the inn. Instead, you were dancing The Dance of Youth and pretending to be the Faerie Queen.

You spent all day yesterday reading Althea’s book on anything magical you could get your hands on, which mainly consisted of faeries and the realm they occupied. The books conjured up tales, legends, and myths of those more than human—people with glittering or colorful skin, wings, horns shooting from their heads, and even human-like versions of some of the animals you were already familiar with. It was completely enthralling reading about it all, and feeling all the magic pour off of the pages made you even more giddy. The magic the School of Pith had was nothing compared to the magic you had read about.

In a kingdom so sunny and full of bloom, A deadly winter approaches to cause mass doom. Drowns the kingdom in layers of snow, And becomes a place where nothing grows and no one goes.

You sang and danced around in the grass, pretending that you weren’t human at all, but faerie. That you were queen and the lands stretching from the edge of the forest to the inn was your kingdom. You wished you lived in Faerie where all the other magical creatures resided. That you and Althea could live there together, happy. Maybe even Kai could join you too. You giggled more at the wonderful thought.

Rustling in the forest drew your attention and you halted your dance. You leaned forward, listening closely and peering at the way the setting sun shined through the leaves, but then laughed at how ridiculous the notion was. Of course there was rustling, it’s a forest. You turned your attention back to the doll propped up on a rock, watching you. “Don’t look at me that way,” you say, twirling once more before making your way over to it.

The doll was a sightly thing made out of straw and sticks that Althea gave to you as a child. After all these years you still had it, and you cherished it deeply—making sure to keep it hidden from Lamia so she wouldn’t toss it out. You could hear her voice now, “A girl born in the summer of the thirteenth year of the King still playing with dolls? How preposterous!”

You hummed, bending down to retrieve the doll. “What an odd thing to say… Why should I find a man to marry in order to rule? I am the Faerie Queen. This is my kingdom, I shall rule it how I see fit!”

Too lost in your own dream-like world, you don’t notice the crunching of leaves beneath boots. “Well, all Queens need a King to stand beside them,” a voice said behind you. You spun in place, clutching the doll to your chest. Kai tilted his head at you, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Don’t you think?” he concluded.

His cloak was covered in ash. He and the other members of the Collective must have just returned from defeating the ash in the area for good. The heat immediately rushed to your face and your mind raced. Kai stood mere feet from you and you were stumbling over your own thoughts on what to say. You stood up straighter, trying to appear nonchalant, “I-I suppose…”

How embarrassing it was to be caught in such childlike endeavors—by Kai of all people! You moved the doll behind your back in an attempt to hide it, yet Kai’s gaze followed the action before flicking back up to your face. Behind him, you saw the rest of the Collective ride up on horses towards the inn, snickering at the two of you. “I see Kai has finally found someone willing to lay with him!” one shouted sarcastically.

Kai’s face soured and he looked over his shoulder at them with a glare before turning back to you. Face softening, he took a step towards you. “Ignore them,” Kai says, “They think they’re funny and they’re not.”

He stripped off his velvet green cloak and gave it a good shake away from where you stood. Ash clouded off of it in front of him, making the two of you cough a little. “Sorry,” Kai coughed, letting the cloak fall onto the rock next to him. “So… The Faerie Queen, huh? What’s that? Does that have something to do with your dance?”

You looked down to your feet in even more embarrassment. “It’s… It’s nothing.” You sat down on the rock that your doll was previously perched on. “I can’t believe you saw that…” you muttered under your breath.

“It looked like fun,” Kai laughed, and you looked up to catch the way his smile lingered as he looked down at you. “You seemed really into it, didn’t even notice me coming up behind you. You jumped like a caught baby deer.”

It was your turn to laugh. “A baby deer?” you asked and Kai nodded. “I guess you could say that, but you scared me!” Kai sat down next to you. He pointed his chin upwards, his eyes on the crown of sticks and leaves on your head. “Is that your crown, Faerie Queen?”

Biting your lip, you took the crown off and placed it in your lap. You toyed with the leaves in it. “You should make me one,” Kai says. You looked up at him. He was much closer than you originally thought he was, his shoulder brushing up against yours making you nervous. This close up you could see all the details of his face—his eyelashes that occasionally rested softly on round, smiling cheeks, and the curve of his plump, pinked lips. And his warm, brown eyes that never left your face. “You know… Queens and Kings and all of that…”

You smiled, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see how flustered he made you. “Really?” you questioned, braving his stare once again. “Yeah!” Kai exclaimed. He leaned closer to you, “Only if you see me fit, though, my queen.”

Kai took your hand in his and bent over to press his lips to the back of it, his eyes flicking up to look at you between his lashes. The action set you alight and you were so sure that Kai could feel the heat radiating off of your body. “I’ll have to put you to the test,” you mutter, barely managing to get your words out. “Only the best can rule with me by my side.”

You felt the vibrations of Kai’s laugh against your skin before he sat back up, his hand still grasping yours. His face was even closer to yours now. All it took was one of you to lean a little closer and your lips would meet. “Well, you’ll find that I am the best of the best,” Kai spoke, lowly. His eyes dropped to your lips and he swayed a little. “Nobody stands a chance against me.”

“Is that so?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” Kai nodded. He closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he used it to cup your cheek and lift your chin to kiss you deeper. You melted into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his. It was perfect, and the feeling of his soft lips on yours was like heaven.

“Why don’t you show her your magic wand!” a voice behind you and Kai yelled in your direction. The two of you broke apart, yet Kai’s hand remained on your cheek. Embarrassment crept up your neck and you could tell from Kai’s red ears that he was feeling the same way. He turned to where the voice came from, brows drawing together to form another dirty glare.

The rustling in the woods was more prevalent now and both you and Kai’s head snapped to the edge of the forest. Before your ears could even pick up on the growling, a large wolf jumped out from between the trees. Both you and Kai raced to your feet and he held a hand out to guide you behind him. You hugged your doll to your chest in fear. Besides his body being tense, Kai remained relatively calm.

The wolf growled and snapped at the two of you, its sharp teeth piercing the air as spit ran down the corners of its jaw. “Awe, he can’t even handle a single wolf… the Ash is going to smoke him out!” Members of the Collective laughed behind you, but Kai paid them no mind. He guided you slowly backwards and away from the edge of the forest.

Kai quickly glanced back at you and the way you trembled, terrified. “It must be hungry,” he said, focusing back on the wolf. Green swirls of magic wrapped around the two of you. “It probably smells the meat from the nearby butcher’s.”

“It wouldn’t kill us, right?” you asked with a shaky voice, already knowing how foolish the question was before finishing it. Kai looked over his shoulder at you again, his face the most serious you’ve seen it, “Make something scared and it’ll do just about anything to get rid of the feeling.”

Just as Kai turned his head back towards the wolf, it pounced at the two of you. Behind it, more wolves prowled out of the woods, snarling. You barely registered that the harrowing scream that filled your ears was your own before you were pushed to the ground.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for once in your entire life. The members of the Collective who were snickering and poking fun at you and Kai jumped into action, spirals of green emerging from their fingertips. More of them piled out from the inn, along with Lamia. You don’t realize that a hand is grabbing your arm and lifting you to your feet before you’re being pushed out of the crossfire.

All you see is green. At least, at first.

Then, splatters of red cover your vision. The screams and cracking of bones fill your ears and bodies fly through the air. Hot tears run down your cheeks and you close your eyes. Then, there is complete and utter silence.

The silence lasts for a moment before all sound comes rushing back to you so fast it felt like your ears were bleeding. There was screaming and crying and more cracking of bones set into place. You opened your eyes to see that the once green pasture you danced in was covered in red—red so dark it was almost black, and disfigured bodies and torn limbs were everywhere.

You stood up from the mud, eyes scanning through the green in the air in search of Kai. When you found him, tending to one of his members whose leg was missing, you breathed a sigh of relief. He was covered in blood and viscera, but it looked like he was unharmed. Barely taking a step in his direction, nails dug into your arm, bringing about a sharp sting that you were all too familiar with.

Body swinging in the opposite direction of Kai, you came face to face with your mother. Her hand reached up to roughly grab your chin. “What have you done?!” She screamed at you.

You glanced around you, never hearing her this angry before. More tears slid out of your eyes and to the dirt below and you tried to talk around the lump in your throat. You took in the destruction all around you, at the dead wolves that were now being carried towards the butcher who stood a couple feet from you. His voice caught in the air, “...a lamb, yeah.” You looked at how many lives the Collective lost in a sheer matter of minutes—and how it was all your fault. “It… I—” you started.

“You brainless child!” Your mother’s hand striked you so hard across the face that you fell back down to the mud at your feet. “Do you know how bad this is for business? Members of the Collective are dead on my soil!” You held your searing cheek with the hand that wasn’t still clutching onto your straw doll as you looked up at your mother with tearful eyes.

“I… I didn’t m—”

“Shut up. Go. I never want to see your vile face again!” Lamia screamed, her wrinkled face turning as red as the sunset behind her. She pointed a shaky finger away from the inn. You stood up on weak legs, your knees shaking. “But—but, Mom—” you cried.

“Go!”

You gave her one last pleading look before taking off, stumbling over your own feet. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t need sight for the place you were running to. You could find Althea in the dark, bound and soundless, if you had to.

You pushed open the doors of the guild and fell to the floor just in front of the counter, startling Althea and the customer she was engaging with. Your chest heaved and your tears formed a puddled at your scraped and dirty knees. “S-She… They’re all…” Your whole body shook and you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

Althea rushed to you, taking you into her arms and completely abandoning her customer. You caught a glimpse of them from Althea’s chest and didn’t know what you saw… Scaly skin that caught the light before a clawed hand pulled the hood further over their face, maybe? Althea shushed you and rubbed comforting circles into your back. “It’s okay, my owlet, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

Love is a very wretched thing. It lets in the rot and the maggots and the ash. But, you still couldn’t help scraping off the corruption and placing it gently in your heart anyway. You couldn’t let go of the thought that maybe it could be beautiful, that it could be worth the cracked skin.

Instead of your usual hiding spot under the counter next to where Althea worked, you were hidden away between shelves at the back of the guild, alone. A book sat open in your lap, but your mind was too distracted to read any of the words in it. You heard the soft pattering of feet along the hardwood and turned to the sound.

Kai stood before you, completely distraught and still covered in blood from the wolf attack.

You waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. You moved the open book in your lap to the side as you sat up. Your lips parted as you thought of something to say. “T-Thank you,” you said finally. “You saved my life.”

Kai’s eyes weren’t the warm brown that they were earlier. Something shifts in them and you swallow thickly. They were cold, lifeless. Kai just nodded and slumped down to the floor next to you. An awkward silence filled the air and you didn’t know what to say to resolve it.

“How did you find me?” you asked in a meek voice. Kai’s eyes shifted over to you from where they looked out the window to the dark sky. “I saw you run here,” he says plainly. “Followed you.”

Silence penetrates the air before he speaks again. “They kicked me out,” Kai says, his lifeless eyes still boring into you. “They kicked me out of the School of Pith.”

Your mouth falls open in shock and you rush to apologize, saying how it was all your fault, but Kai just shakes his head and looks away from you. He’s still in his Collective uniform, but now the light, forest-green of his velvet cloak seems dull and dark. It doesn’t help that it’s now splattered with blood. “I guess it was my last chance.”

There’s no inflection in his voice, nothing to show whether the result makes him sad or angry or even annoyed. His face is expressionless. The only hint to his inner turmoil is the way his fingers pull harshly at the seams of his dirty white pants. The tips of them are reddened, like he’s been at it for a while now.

Kai turned back to you and reached a hand up to gently rub his thumb along your bruised cheek. His gaze then dipped to the book on the floor. “What are you reading?”

You hand the book to him, the page opened onto the legend of the White Fawn that Althea told you about. Kai hummed, “You don’t really believe in all that stuff, do you? This myth?”

“You don’t?” you asked incredulously. “You have magic, but don’t believe in a white deer that brings about luck and fortune?”

For the first time that night, you manage to get Kai to chuckle. “I suppose you’re right…” he trailed. “I might not be the firmest believer in myths and legends, but I do know a lot about them. We learned about them at the school—more things than you’ll read about in any book.”

Kai glances at you and catches the way your eyes light up. A smile pulls at the corner of his lips. The light still isn't back in his eyes—and his smile doesn't reach them either—but, it’s a start. You look at him as if he just hung all the stars in the pitch black sky.

“You want me to teach you?” Kai asks, and you desperately nod your head.

[ kipo’s note . . . ] wow… a lot happened… you see why it had to be almost 8k words now?? lmaoo i had to set everything up! but tell me how you feel about it all!! what do you think about the faerie realm, or the myths of the forest that watches and the well of life? the white fawn and the prophecy of eternal winter??? lemme know all your thoughts, don’t be shy!!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @usuallyunlikelyfox @blossommi @tinycatharsis

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baestruly · 19 hours ago

Note

Spencer reid, who is crazy nervous around the reader who is like this cold,quiet, and scary person and Spencer like wants to ask them out but he keeps messing up like stuttering everytime he interacts with reader or accidentally ruining something of hers and reader knows his crush on her and agrees to go out with him. It could lead to smut if you'd like. Hope this is acceptable.

for the poetry books ━━ spencer reid

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ) spencer reid x fem!reader

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 spencer has had a crush on you for a while, making it painfully obvious to the rest of the team. finally, one day, spencer's usual clumsiness around you sparks new informed feelings warnings - fluff, reader is usually grumpy, spencer is giving s1 spencer, morgan is their biggest shipper, (my poetry skills um) wc: 1.5k

It was fair to say you’ve always been distant and closed off.

If anyone were to peek a glance at you from across the room, they might say you’re angry, mean and bossy.

But Spencer never saw that.

He saw your strength and courage. The way you’d scrunch your nose when catching onto something in a case, or the way your hands would slightly unclench when talking to the people you cared for most.

Because you were comfortable.

He saw things he thought you didn’t even notice.

It was fair to say, he was a profiler after all.

But so were you and it wasn’t impossible to see these continuous and not-so-subtle glances Reid threw at you every day from across the BAU.

“Oh look, pretty boy’s at it again.” Morgan chuckled, shaking his head.

The comment had you looking up from the files scattered across the desk, the ones you’d carefully been scanning for any clue on how to find this UNSUB. So far, it’s been a day without any luck and Hotch had told the team to stay low until the UNSUB left a blue on to who his next victim or whereabouts would be.

“What now, Morgan?” You spat, frustrated. “You’ve been talking nonsense for 10 minutes now.”

He laughed again, his famous teasing smirk toying his lips. “Well, I'm sorry for trying to put my head in another place rather than the amount of things we’ve seen today, Little Miss Sunshine.”

You only scoffed, shaking your head, but rather still amused with his playfulness. Only the team could secretly cheer you up after a long and stressful day.

“Looks like you got the real sun beaming at you from over there though, that why you’ve been so gloomy until now?”

Finally, you looked up from your papers, shooting him a warning glare before scanning your eyes to find who he was so obviously talking about.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Morgan had been teasing the two of you for weeks, mentioning Spencer's glances he made when you weren’t paying attention━━head elsewhere, or how he’d be a stuttering mess whenever having a conversation one-on-one.

Unlike Reid, none of the team can say they’ve ever seen you crack. Emily had disturbingly called you the female version of Hotch━━also younger.

“Leave him alone, Derek, you think I haven’t noticed? I practically feel his stare.” You defended your friend. Although you and Reid had very different personalities, you got along well. While Reid was always looking for opportunities to spit out his knowledge or jump to inform anyone on his interests and theories of the deep pits of his genius brain, you were calm and collected, rather than keeping your interests and thoughts to yourself━━except on certain cases of course.

You were strict and determined while Reid was more reserved and quiet. But it didn’t make you think of him any less.

“C'mon (Y/N), I see the way you soften that cold exterior you got over there around him, what are you waiting for?”

The truth was, you were scared. And when you were scared, you always pushed it aside and went with what had to be done.

But when it came to Spencer, you were scared.

It wasn’t something you’d ever admit, especially to the little snitch Morgan over there, but your friendship with Reid was strong and it’s something you would never intend to break.

“I don’t have time to be talking about this.”

Morgan held his hands out in surrender. “Alright, alright. But c’mon, it pains the team to deal with the tension between you two lovers every day.” His voice mocked what could be a dramatic romantic monologue.

“Goodbye, Morgan.” You yelled back, watching him turn his back with a laugh as he walked to his desk.

After about an hour, you decided it was time you headed home to get some sleep—if you even could. Cases left like these always keep you awake, prying at all the things in your brain looking for something to give you a clue to crack the case.

When you opened the door to go outside, the soft brush of the summer breeze comfortingly grazed your face.

Unfortunately, Spencer’s appearance at your side couldn’t have come across any softer.

Just like that, all the files in your hand go flying from your grasp when Spencer quickly tries to get to the door to catch up to you. This had to be the third time this week he’s accidentally knocked something out of your hands or off your desk.

“Oh, crap━━I am so sorry, here I'll just━━” He quickly started picking up the files on the ground in a hurry, his anxious demeanour practically radiating off of him. It was starting to make you even more anxious than you’d like to admit.

This couldn’t refrain you from giggling at him, bending down to meet his level as you started to help him with the files he’d dropped.

He looked embarrassed, a faint redness tinting his soft, beautiful features. “Sorry again, I━━”

“Spence,” your eyes softened among your last few chuckles, “it’s okay I got it.”

He still picked up a few before placing the remaining papers in your hands as he gave you an anxious smile, the wind blowing his hair softly.

You stood up, shifting your head from downwards to upwards as he now stood in front of you and scrunched his nose.

“I was just trying to catch you before you left, I, um━━need to ask you something.” Spencer declared, looking down and then into your eyes. You noted the extra pitch to the end of his hesitant words and how anything he said sounded what was very faint of a question.

“You do, huh? Is it worth ruining all my papers for?” You teased, looking up into his eyes with a small smile. He’d only chuckled quietly as if he were trying to stay calm. You weren’t supposed to profile each other, but to anyone, this could’ve been obvious.

Unexpectedly, he reached into the brown bag he had strapped over his shoulder and pulled out a book.

A book?

“I just wanted to give this to you. You mentioned the other day about how you were starting to get into poetry. I thought you might like this.”

You gently grabbed the book from his hands, your eyes sparkling as you studied the beautiful artwork on the cover. “Wow━━Spencer, yes I have been, thank you so much for this, this means a lot.”

No one had ever given you gifts. Not ones on days like these. You’d never gotten gifts on your birthday let alone the one gift you needed from your parents most.

Love.

What was it like? Was it the racing of your heart whenever that one person looked at you with such admiration you wanted to melt━━because if that was true, you’d be a mess right about now.

You hoped the heat rising on your cheeks couldn’t be seen, the cool breeze giving relief to the heat in your face.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.” He smiled with a little wave before he turned on his heel to the parking lot.

You couldn’t help but admire the book, gliding your finger over the front cover and opening the front page━━to the dedication.

To your surprise, there was a note written there━━not from the author, but with a gel pen.

seeing this book made me think of you, but truth be told, my mind is a cloud, floating elsewhere, taking me away from all the bad when I see your face. my heart starts to race before every case. but it’s not from fear, it’s from your presence. the presence of your eyes, your soft hair you always put in a bun, your mind. it’s all so beautiful. so, that’s why i’m giving you this. because not only are the words etched from ink beautiful but so are the pair of eyes reading.

You feel unglued from the pavement before you hurriedly race after Spencer━━the man who you so badly wanted to hug, kiss, and tell him how much he meant to you at this very moment.

Because he felt the same.

Somehow you knew he had for a while now, but this was real. The note was real.

Everything in this moment was so real.

“Spencer, wait!” You shouted after him, Spencer turning around with his eyebrows pinched together.

You stopped before him, heart racing a million miles per minute.

His eyes beamed with hope and admiration in the moonlight and you reached up to brush his hair out of his eye.

He looked down nervously, but looked into your eyes again, slightly shocked from your bold gesture.

“I like you too.”

“You━━you do?” He asks, eyes softening even more.

“Yes.”

The moments of longing and emptiness were filled from the touch of you and Spencer’s lips. That tension through many months of stares across the bullpen and smiles on the jets were made up until this very moment, where it’s just you and the man you liked so much.

You finally could say it. It was real.

You pulled away softly, eyes being hooked to his as your face moved away. Giving him a smile and an aggressive hair ruffle, you walk in front of him, leaving a still-dumbfounded Spencer in the parking lot.

“Guess it’s a date then, pretty boy.”

masterlist | spencer reid masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid oneshots #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #writing

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

Note

Hello! Hope you're doing well!

So I sorta got rejected for Valentine's this year :cc so I was wondering if I could ask for Aventurine, Phainon, Dan Heng and maybe also Anaxa helping the reader with cope with rejection

Hope you're having a good day! Please take your time!! 🫶

Every Closed Door Leads to a New Beginning

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rejection, Healing, Emotional Support, Slow Burn, Self-Discovery, Inner Strength, Self-Worth, Healing Journey.

Warnings: Mentions of rejection, Emotional vulnerability, Mild angst.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that 🫂 (sorry for the late response too😔🙏)

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

Aventurine had seen countless deals collapse, empires crumble, and fortunes shift with the flick of a wrist. Rejection was just another spin of the wheel, an inevitable part of the game. But when he found you curled up in quiet devastation, he realized—this wasn’t just a failed wager to you. This was real, raw, and deeply personal.

He sighed, leaning against the edge of the table where you sat, hands folded in your lap. “Ah, rejection,” he mused, tilting his head dramatically. “A bitter drink, isn’t it? Like ordering the finest wine and finding it’s corked.”

You didn’t respond, only staring at your hands. The silence was an answer in itself. Aventurine’s usual smirk softened as he observed you—he could read people like open ledgers, and right now, you were on the verge of shattering.

“Tell me, darling,” he said, lowering himself to sit beside you, “what makes this so unbearable? Did you truly lose, or did you just not get the outcome you expected?”

You swallowed. “Does it matter? It still hurts.”

Aventurine clicked his tongue. “Of course it matters. If you lost, then you grieve and move on. But if it was only an outcome you didn’t anticipate, then all that’s changed is the direction of the wind.”

You shot him a glare. “So what? I should just pretend I don’t feel anything?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no, my dear. Feel it. Wallow in it, if you must. But don’t let it define you.” His fingers ghosted over yours, deliberate yet light. “You know, if I let every rejection—every ‘bad hand’—dictate my life, I’d still be groveling in the dirt, licking the boots of men who never deserved my loyalty.”

You looked up, startled by his uncharacteristic sincerity. He smiled, but this time, it wasn’t sharp or teasing. It was something… quieter.

Aventurine stood, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. “Come,” he offered, holding out his hand. “I’ll teach you a lesson more valuable than gold—how to turn rejection into opportunity.”

“…And if I don’t want to?”

His grin returned, brighter now. “Then I’ll simply stay here, bothering you with endless metaphors and tragic poetry until you beg for mercy.”

A small, reluctant smile broke through your sadness, and Aventurine knew—he’d won this round.

Phainon found you standing alone, the weight of rejection pressing down on you like an unseen force. Your shoulders were tense, your breathing uneven, and he knew—he recognized the look of someone fighting to keep their heart from crumbling.

Without a word, he stepped beside you, his presence warm and steady. “You don’t have to talk,” he said gently. “But if you do, I’ll listen.”

You hesitated before finally whispering, “I wasn’t enough.”

Phainon’s brows furrowed. “That’s not true.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “How would you know?”

He turned slightly, eyes searching yours. “Because rejection doesn’t mean you lack worth. It only means this wasn’t the path meant for you.” His voice carried an unwavering kindness, a softness that wrapped around you like a shield against the pain.

You exhaled shakily. “It still hurts.”

Phainon nodded. “Of course it does.” He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “But you’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to grieve. Just don’t believe, even for a second, that this defines you.”

You looked down, squeezing his hand back. “How do you deal with it?”

He smiled wistfully. “I remind myself that my worth isn’t determined by someone else’s acceptance. And when that’s not enough… I turn to those who see me for who I truly am.”

You met his gaze, and in that moment, you realized—Phainon saw you. Not as someone rejected, but as someone strong, someone deserving of love and understanding.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

Phainon’s smile grew, bright and unwavering. “Always.”

Dan Heng wasn’t one to offer words freely, but he noticed the way your movements had lost their usual energy, the way your eyes seemed dimmer. He didn’t ask. He didn’t pry. Instead, he simply placed a cup of tea beside you and sat down, his presence solid and unwavering.

You stared at the tea, then at him. “You heard, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“…And?”

Dan Heng took a slow sip of his own tea before speaking. “It isn’t the end.”

You scoffed. “Sure feels like it.”

His gaze remained steady. “It’s not.”

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… grounding. You found yourself tracing the rim of the cup, trying to gather your thoughts. “Why does it hurt so much?”

Dan Heng set his tea down. “Because you cared.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Because you invested a piece of yourself into something that didn’t return the way you hoped.”

You clenched your jaw. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

He looked at you for a long moment before answering, “Heal.”

You let out a shaky breath. “And if I don’t know how?”

Dan Heng shifted slightly, as if considering his words carefully. Then, he spoke with a certainty that made your chest ache.

“Then let me help.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in his voice. Dan Heng wasn’t one for grand gestures or excessive reassurances, but this—this was real.

His presence alone was enough to remind you that even in rejection, you weren’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

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magicalbats · 2 days ago

Text

Persist and Resist (Sunday x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7730

Warnings: afab!reader, handjob, cum eating, a pinch of femdom, canon typical Catholic guilt

A/N: Happy Valentine's everyone! I actually started writing this one in response to an ask I got back when I was working on last years kinktober but at some point in shuffling the text around from here to Google docs it seems Tumblr ate the initial message, which is a big bummer. I do, however, recall that the sender wanted to know what I liked about Sunday ... and the answer to that is clearly 7730 words long! lol Please enjoy the fic and if you're still around, anon ... this one is for you. ❤️

⭐

“Just relax,” you murmur, ignoring his startled gasp when you lean in from behind to rest your chin against his shoulder. “You’re always so stiff. That’s not good for your health, y’know.”

He hesitates, seems to think about it. Deciding how he should react.

Forcing himself to draw a slow, carefully measured breath this time and further betraying his feelings on the matter, Sunday grits out a terse laugh. It’s soft and quiet. A barely there chuckle that carries with it only a very small fraction of the self assured confidence he’d displayed back on Penacony.

You knew now that the real Sunday was not quite so sure of himself or as comfortable in his own skin as he’d first appeared, although he still tries very hard to hide that insecurity from you despite being far, far away from his old home. Like some sort of defense mechanism meant to protect and shield the delicate fragile parts of him from threat of the outside world, but it doesn’t work. Not when you were sitting so damn close to him as to feel every stuttering beat of his heart.

Pressed right up against his back like this, there’s not much he can keep from you, in fact. You’re keenly aware of even the most imperceptible shift in him, from the steady expansion of his lungs down to the loose flex of his hands where they’re resting across his lap. His body language makes it clear that he’s not accustomed to sharing such close proximity with another person and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. Right down to the molecular level it’s obvious he’s way out of his comfort zone given his subtle fidgeting, as if he just couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous. Maybe even a little scared, too.

“How interesting.” He finally murmurs. “I wasn’t aware you filled the important role of medical expert on board the Express. I’ll have to make note not to end up in need of your services again.”

Turning his head, Sunday pointedly looks elsewhere in your new room on the train, much preferring to focus on anything other than its owner at the moment.

Situated above the party car and effectively cut off from the more heavily used common areas, the privacy here is absolute and precisely why you’d extended an invitation to him. There was more than enough room for you to share this space with the wayward traveler who, as far as you could tell, had been sleeping on the bench seats in the car below while you worked to get everything set up to your liking. But he never complained about it or tried to demand better accommodations even though you were certain it was a drastic downgrade in the comfortability he was used to. Like some self flagellating martyr, almost.

The thought that he might be using the Express’ lack of additional rooms to further punish himself, convinced he deserved that or even less, was what ultimately swayed your decision to open your door to him. You wanted to show Sunday that there were still good things in this world that he could have, things he could enjoy and appreciate the same way he had in his previous life even if they weren’t quite as luxurious or posh as he was accustomed to.

You also wanted to show him that you were willing to forgive him and, in the process, maybe even convince him to forgive himself.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” He insists, just a bit too tightly for it to be believable. “But I’ve seen you in action before. You’re not exactly what I’d call a gentle hand, and this … bedside manner is beyond me.”

That makes you smile into his shoulder as you wind your arms more securely around him, gently nudging Sunday back against your front. Still, he refuses to relent though. Staying perfectly motionless and straight as a board now, he almost feels like a statue made of solid granite sitting on the edge of the haphazardly made bed with you. Would have, were it not for the slightest hitch in his chest.

You realize in a distant, immaterial sort of way that his subconscious reaction was in response to your breasts pressing into his spine. He must like it then, even if he was loathe to say it. This was admittedly something you found to be charmingly cute in its guileless unassuming but it also made you want to tease him even more for it at the same time.

“That might be for the best,” You softly coo at him, keeping your voice light and barely more than a whisper as you trail a single hand higher up to pull at one of the clasps on his jacket. “I don’t have a medical license, after all.”

He sucks in another inhale, sharper this time. “You’re shameless.”

“That may be true, but I don’t see you trying to stop me.”

A strange little sound puffs out of him, something equally torn between indignation and fluster.

He either can’t or he won’t bring himself to reject your advances though, and he just sits there while you make careful work of unfastening his cozy coat. Idly, you wonder if this was the first time he’s ever had someone touching him like this. But he’s either making an attempt to be more polite than he otherwise would have been when someone was invading his personal bubble like this or, more likely, he considered it another facet of his penance. Further punishment for a sin he’s already been punished for twice over in your eyes.

Sighing a quiet sound against his neck, you tentatively slip your hand into the inner layer of his shirt once you’ve got it nudged up enough to reach inside.

The skin along his stomach is enviously soft and smooth when you brush your fingers against it, and he outright jolts at that first hint of contact. Even then he still does not protest or try to pull away, though. His breathing deepens, coming slightly harder and faster now, but he makes no move to disengage from you, and you finally rouse yourself to tip your face up at him in question.

“I was only joking, Sunday. You can tell me if you don’t want me to keep going.”

“So you can hold it over my head later? I think not, Miss Stellaron. Against all odds, I still have some pride left in me.”

You frown at that. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re not a prisoner here and I’m not your jailer, so you’re free to make your own choices. I just want to help you.”

For a drawn out moment it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any kind of response from him, and you’re just a bit disappointed about that. But then, ever so slowly, he turns his head to cautiously glance back at you. The deeply embarrassed flush staining his cheekbones manages to surprise you, making your brows climb up to your hairline before you can suppress the reaction and stop it.

“I fail to see how this could be in any way helpful to me.” He intones, keeping his wing tucked forward across the lower half of his face so he can hide his mouth from your line of sight. Acting as a final barrier in case you were to decide to take that last inch from him.

“I thought this might help you relax. You are pretty stiff, you know. I wasn’t joking about that.”

That defensively tucked in wing gives a brief flutter to make the soft feathers ruffle slightly, like a helpless bird trying to puff itself up to look bigger. It would have been adorable had his eyes not narrowed at you in warning in the same breath.

“I’ve never heard of such a method for relaxation. This isn’t how the Family does things.”

“But you’re not part of the Family anymore, are you? It’s okay to do things differently now.” Holding the air in your lungs, anticipating the coin drop, you slide the hand inside his shirt a little higher up to rub over a tiny nipple. “Let me show you, Sunday. Please?”

He twitches at the touch of your fingertips and quickly swings his attention back around to avoid having to look at you any longer. You can feel the shudder that runs through him but he still refuses to utter the one word that would make you back off. ‘Stop’. That’s all he needed to say. And you would, if he really wanted that.

Something told you he didn’t completely hate what you were doing though, and it’s not like he’d ever admit to liking it anyway.

So you take your time softly petting over the petite bud, coaxing it to full stiffness which even then doesn’t leave much for you to play with. Every part of him was so slim and compact that as you feel over his chest you find yourself wondering if he was perhaps malnourished despite the life of relative luxury he’d lived back on Penacony. He shouldn’t have had to go without food, at the very least.

Deciding to find him a slice of cake in the kitchen after this, or at least a cookie, you redirect your hand to the opposite side of his chest to tease that nipple as well. Sunday stiffly arches against you in response, nudging his narrow chest up at the sensation even as he whimpers a quiet noise into the still room. He was slowly getting more and more fidgety, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to what you were doing. How to process it or how to reconcile any of it in his mind.

But a simple glance down at the front of him tells you everything you need to know without having to break the static charged silence by asking him how he was feeling. He wouldn’t have been honest with you anyway, of that you were certain, so there would have been no point in it.

The reluctant tent pushing up through his pants speaks for itself though, and this part of him could not lie. No matter how much he tried to fight it or wrestle it back under control, there was simply no subjugating the natural urges of his body. He couldn’t fully control it no matter how much he might want to and you can tell that bothers him a great deal in the way he softly seethes under his breath.

He was supposed to be disciplined and steadfast, not easily swayed by the compunctions of flesh and blood. And after rejecting it for so long, stuffing it down into a sealed box in the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to look at it or think about it, he was now quickly succumbing to the full brunt of his neglected sensitivity. All you’ve done so far was tease his nipples a little bit and his cock was already needily flexing up into the placket of his slacks as if with a mind of its own. A hungry beast that couldn’t be contained no matter how hard its master might yank on the leash trying to bring it back to heel.

It’s a little sad, in a way. You can’t help feeling sorry for him and all the simple pleasures he’s denied himself for the sake of exerting some amount of control over his own existence when he otherwise had none, but you also feel a sharp stab of arousal too. There were so many things you could teach him, if given half the chance. So many different avenues of pleasure and satisfaction, and intimacy that the two of you could explore together if he’d just allow himself the freedom to experience them for once in his life.

In truth you’d found Sunday quite interesting from the moment you first set eyes on him in front of the check-in counter of the Penacony Grand Hotel, like there was some sort of magnetic force at work urging you closer into his orbit. You knew now that at least part of that compulsion was a result of the Harmony and the other was his natural charisma as a Halovian. But there’s something else there too, something not so easily explained or written off.

He was not that much unlike you, was he? Someone who was so utterly bereft of a home to call his own in this vast cosmos that the nomadic existence of a star-bound wanderer was the only feasible option left to him. Everything from his identity right down to his own sister had been taken from him and he was alone now, save you and the rest of the Astral Express crew. You could understand that well enough even if you didn’t have any memories of what you’d lost before ending up here, just the same as he eventually had.

But you wanted to show him what having that freedom was really like, even if it was just a tiny glimpse of what awaited him on the other side now that he was free of Penacony’s slumbering birdcage.

“Do you trust me, Sunday?”

He tries to laugh again, fails miserably at it, and all that comes out is an odd little croak instead. “I don’t see that I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Of course you do.”

Carefully sliding your hand out of his shirt, you reach down to tug at his belt buckle with deliberate slowness, giving him ample opportunity to protest. He just groans the most threadbare little sound you’ve ever heard though, and finally allows himself to reluctantly ease back into you. Still unfalteringly stiff and halting, but at least you were making progress.

With a brief clink and a rattle, his belt comes loose. You set your sights on his pants next, fumbling with the top button just as slowly so as not to spook or startle him. He really was like a defenseless bird caught in the sights of a much larger predator and unable to fly, to flee or to fight. He remains passive in your arms, luckily, but the building anticipation of what you were doing does make him start to squirm. He quickly forces himself to stop and be still though, merely watching what your hands are doing with his face tipped down towards his lap.

Soon enough you have those neatly pressed slacks open and you slip your fingers inside to feel along the band of his underwear before trailing even lower. You find his straining cock easily when it’s already stiff and rigidly pushing up from his body, giving it a gentle squeeze through the last layer of laughably thin cotton, and he responds with a tortured, half choked gasp.

“M - Miss Stellaron …”

You can hear the hoarse rattle in his voice as much as you feel it where you’re pressed right up against him like you are. At some point your breathing seems to have synced with his and you find yourself quietly panting right along with him as you work to nudge his pants down far enough to free him from them.

Clearly picking up on your intent, Sunday hesitates to do it and he sways almost unsteadily between your arms before he at last manages to shyly angle his hips off the edge of the mattress to help you in your endeavor. He whimpers softly while he does it, and you consolingly coo at him as you press your face into the crook of his elegant neck to breathe deep the smell of him. Soap and clean linen, and a hint of downy fuzz that makes your head feel light with the impression of warmth. Perfect for cuddling.

“Shh. Just relax for me. I promise I’ll take good care of you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tipping forward, you place a tender kiss to his drooping wing and you’re delighted by the sensitive inhale he sucks in at the sensation of your lips brushing against the feathers. You’d always wondered if they were as delicately receptive as they looked and you were glad to have your answer even as you tug at his underwear to slide the band underneath his straining length.

And it immediately springs up into the air, already flushed and leaking as it weakly twitches in his lap as if in a desperate bid for attention. You’re amazed at not only how beautiful his cock is, average in size at best and yet so perfectly shaped as to look somehow beyond the pale of mere flesh, but also at how satiny soft and smooth it is. The flawless texture almost makes it look like something made of alabaster, and you eagerly reach around to take him in your hand.

“Oh!” His back dramatically arches against you, his hands flying up where they hesitate over yours for a harrowing moment before he allows himself to latch onto your wrists. It’s the first hint of reciprocity on his part, intentionally touching you instead of remaining a bystander as he had up until now, but you still hold your breath as you wait to see what he’ll do next.

If he was going to push you away this would be the time. The situation had clearly escalated beyond what could be excused as simple platonic affection and you brace for his reaction. His rejection.

To your genuine surprise, however, Sunday just holds onto you by the wrists and weakly rolls his hips up in a shuddering, painfully stiff thrust. The motion sends his cock stuttering across your fingers before pulling back when he eases down to sit fully on the mattress again, wheezing softly at just that brief stimulation. You sorely wished you could see his face again but Sunday’s attention remains down and that fluttering wing stays an ever present screen for him to hide behind as well.

No matter though. You didn’t really have need for visual cues when you could feel everything in stunning high definition through the point of contact between his body and yours.

Closing your fist tighter around his cock, you gently begin to pump him, hand dragging from the base where ticklishly coarse hairs tease your knuckles straight up to the tip to make his foreskin bunch over the head. You can hear the sticky wet click of precum but it’s quickly lost under the harsh, frazzled gasp he raggedly pulls in. And it almost manages to surprise you, how sensitive he really is and how vigorously he twitches at your ministrations. There was some part of you that hadn’t been sure if he was even able to put on such an animated display, thinking he’d fight tooth and nail to keep up that implacable facade no matter what manner of duress he was made to endure.

That is not what happens though.

Instead he suddenly comes alive, unable to stop himself from full on shuddering and twisting his narrow hips against your hold. Hissing an overwrought sound into the otherwise still and silent room, he clutches at your arms in such a tight deathgrip that the leather of his gloves softly creaks. Not to stop you or to push you away, you dully realize when he groans your name like a plea. But because it felt good and it overwhelmed him, and he needed to hold onto something or risk shattering into a million pieces right then and there.

Stealing another quick, almost giddy look down at the cock gripped in your fist, you don’t think that’s going to help him or stop the inevitable though. He’s flushed pink and raw from nothing more than just a few brief pumps of your hand, and you can feel the intense throb of him pulsing under your fingers. Not only was he going to cum quick and hard, considering how fiercely he shakes for you, but it was also going to take an embarrassing lack of effort on your part to get him there.

“Oh, Sunny. Are you enjoying yourself now?” You purr into his shoulder, delighted at how abruptly he’d changed his songbird’s tune. From proud and immovable to a writhing, pathetically whimpering mess in just the blink of an eye. And all it had taken was the firm hold of your hand on him. It was in many ways astounding. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“I told you — nnghn! Not to … not to call me that.”

Humming a low sound of agreement, you slowly drag your hand back down the length of him to peel away his foreskin in a tortuously stilted motion. Another sticky click hits your ears and he grunts a harried noise of distress when the cool air wafts against his exposed glans unimpeded, making him judder wildly in response. But you keep him held tightly against you even when his back dramatically bows, using your anchoring arm wrapped around his flexing stomach to keep Sunday pressed into you while the opposite hand gives his base a pinched squeeze to stave off his release. It wouldn’t hold it back for long but you were happy with even just those few extra seconds you’re given to admire him.

And admire him you do. He’s sticky with an excess of eager, dribbling precum that coats the glistening head in a filmy sheen, inviting you to reach out and rub him there. You knew that would undo him in alarmingly short order though, so you hold off for the moment. Rather, you gently smooth your touch down to caress over his balls and wrap your fingers around their delicate weight, cradling them in the palm of your hand.

Surprising you a great deal, Sunday outright yelps at the sensation and jolts as if you’d just electrocuted him despite how careful you’d been in handling his testes. Slim chest heaving on an uncontrollable, stuttering rhythm, he heavily leans back into you and tips his head to keen up at the ceiling. The sound itself as much as the volume of it makes your heart leap into your throat where it threatens to suffocate you. He was getting much too loud, wasn’t he?

Your thoughts immediately flash upon the idea that someone might be just downstairs in the party car but you aren’t sure how well sound travels between the two floors, and that makes you nervous. Would they be able to hear him clearly and figure out what was happening just over their heads, or would it only seem like muffled and distant noise? Hell, even if one of your other crewmates wasn’t down there Shush almost certainly was. That damned robot hardly ever moved from behind the polished bar unless it was to pester someone with its awful jokes. What would it even say about the things it could hear going on up in your room?

Quickly deciding you really didn’t want to test fate like that, you unlock your arm from around his middle and reach up to lightly palm over the graceful line of his throat instead. His Adam’s apple bobs thickly under your hand with the rough inhale he pulls in, swaying between your thighs when he turns his head to blink at you as if he were drunk and seeing double. But at least it looked like you had his attention again.

“You need to watch your volume. If someone hears us, that's going to make having breakfast together way more awkward than I’d like.” You warn him, keeping your voice gentle and soft. For someone who’d acted with such overwhelming confidence on his home turf he’d quickly proven himself skittish and easy to fluster once you got your hands on him. You didn’t want to scare him off after all the effort you’d had to put in just to get this far.

“I … I’m sorry.” He mutters with no shortage of Herculean effort. Gone are the impeccable manners and lofty words of the head of the Oak Family, and in their place there was now only a raw vulnerability you hadn’t expected to see in him. “It seems I’ve — forgotten myself. How embarrassing. I - I’ve never …”

“Been touched like this?” You supply, giving his balls a featherlight palpitation for emphasis.

It’s enough to make Sunday hiss through tightly clenched teeth though, squeezing his eyes shut against the sensation as he turns his head away. “Yes. I mean n - no. This is my … first time.”

That makes you smile. “I can tell. You’re so sensitive, Sunny. Haven’t you ever thought to touch yourself before?”

His little wings flutter in response, flapping an irritable rhythm that makes the feathers softly smack against your face as if to bat you away. It’s hard to say if he was offended that you would even think to ask that of him in the first place or if it was because you’d used that insufferable nickname again but either way his reaction makes you laugh.

Yes, there were a great many avenues of mischief the two of you could get into. It would be fun exploring them together, and this was only the first activity on a very long list of things you wanted to introduce him to. It was a bit out of order but maybe you could try kissing next.

Your own excitement grows at the thought, and you eagerly swing your attention back around to Sunday’s lap. Giving his balls one last, gentle squeeze, you curl your hand upward so you can wrap it around his shaft and feel that silken skin under your fingers again. The seething noise he makes sounds suspiciously like that of a tea kettle getting close to boiling but he makes a valid attempt to keep his voice in check when you offer that rigid length another slow, savory tug.

Unfortunately he quickly loses hold of that threadbare control as you reach the glans and the drag of your fist makes his foreskin slide up to bunch over the fleshy slit. The sensation seems to nearly bowl him over and he judders helplessly, squawking an oversensitized sound. Even with the threat of discovery an ever present danger, you still can’t quite stop yourself from grinning at his decidedly innocent, unassuming reaction.

“Oh, Sunday … what are we going to do if someone comes knocking on the door because they heard you? Something tells me that look on your face would give us away no matter how we tried to explain ourselves.”

He full on whimpers at that, sounding sad and deeply ashamed in at the implication of guilt. It’s clearly getting harder for him to maintain his usual cool the longer your hands are on him though, and you realize you’re going to have to do something to help him out. He was much too sensitive, too easily overwhelmed to roll the dice in this particular situation when getting caught together could mean the end of everything.

Licking your lips, you momentarily consider choking him just enough to cut off his air supply and make it impossible for him to cry out. Your fingers idly flex around the bobbing curve of his throat at the thought. Although it’s certainly a tempting idea you ultimately think better of it, sliding your hand higher up to brush over his jaw instead.

Finding Sunday’s mouth, you slide your palm over it and press down firmly to elicit a startled yet blissfully muffled sound from him. He jolts and lurches in your hold, as if only just now realizing the true scope of the danger he was in, but it’s much too late.

Readjusting your hold on his cock in the other hand, you firmly drag your fist down and then back up, settling into a steady rhythm that continuously works the foreskin over his receptive glans. Back and forth, back and forth, up and down; rubbing, sliding, sticky slick clicking in your ears. And Sunday outright shrieks behind your fingers, twisting and tossing his head like a wild animal caught in a trap. His belt rattles softly where it’s spread open across his thighs, still twisted up in his pants, and his wings slap a furious beat that has you turning your face into his shoulder to avoid the full brunt of his ratcheting alarm.

He’s hard to keep ahold of like this, especially when he digs his heels into the floor and tries to wrench himself free, but your physical strength proves greater. Despite being a man and in spite of having a few inches on you in height, he just isn’t equipped to fight you off. Not when you’ve got his cock in one hand, stroking it with the continuous glide of your palm over all of that sinfully smooth flesh, and the halfhearted way he shoves at your arms quickly morphs into desperate grabbing instead.

Blindly, he latches onto you; your thighs where they bracket his shuddering hips, the bend of your arm, so he can squeeze tight and hold on for dear life. His muffled sounds of pleasure turn dazed and intoxicated as he rigidly slumps against you at last. And when he tips his head back to rest along your shoulder, tiny wings still fluttering helplessly but starting to weaken and droop, you dare to lift your face to look at him.

Wrecked is the only word that immediately comes to mind. His usually perfectly styled hair is tousled and sweat damp where it sticks to his skin in a few places. Cheeks so hot with color you know he’d be warm to the touch. It’s the far-away glisten in his golden eyes, once so sharp and pointed, now distant and too heavy to keep fully open anymore, that really seals the deal though. Sunday’s higher functioning mind may still have been fighting against it but his body was singing like a deftly plucked chord while the violently crashing waves of pleasure slam into him with every slide of your fist.

Feeling devious and a little too eager to stop yourself, you take advantage of his draining will to fight it and adjust your hand over his mouth so you can plunge two of the fingers inside. He squawks a decidedly undignified sound at the sudden intrusion but even his attempt to turn his head away is half hearted at best. Only somewhat reluctantly does he allow you to probe at his squirming tongue, feeling the perfect line of his teeth scrape over your knuckles when you reach back just far enough to make him gag.

The compulsion is an odd one, you understand that much, but it’s as if your own pounding excitement won’t be satisfied until you’ve thoroughly torn down every one of his mile wide defenses. You needed to leave him debauched and utterly disillusioned from his old role, his previous identity, or this wasn’t going to accomplish what it was supposed to. How else could he be expected to move on and undertake the journey ahead of him if he was still clinging to his old ways and holding himself to the same standards as before?

Sunday needed to see that despite his once high-minded ideals he was still just human, that his flesh and blood body was not some great sin for him to reject or punish. That he didn’t need to self sacrifice and martyr himself just for his life to have meaning. You wanted him to understand that it’s okay to be a little messy sometimes, and there’s nothing wrong with letting go of his almost fanatically held control.

So it is with a great deal of pleasure that you keep his jaw wedged open with your fingers, carefully moving them back and forth over his tongue while he whimpers and whines so sweetly for you. It doesn’t take long for the excess of saliva to build up and dribble out at the corners of his lips, his spine dramatically flexing when he feels that first unseemly rivulet run down his jaw. His mouth works futilely around your digits, alternating between trying to spit them out or to somehow swallow around them but it doesn’t work. The drool just keeps coming, slowly bubbling out to track sticky paths down his face.

You even catch a glimpse of shuddering moisture wetting his lash lines but you politely look away despite the eager jump in your pulse at the sight of those tears. It would have been all too easy for you to tease him for them, really lean into the humiliation he was probably feeling, but that was not your goal here. Not this time, at least.

Instead you focus your attention back on the hand wrapped around his cock. Your ministrations had slowed to a stop while you were stuffing his mouth full and now you can see the length of him, flushed a pretty pink that almost matches his face, flexing needily against your hold. He was leaking enough precum to smooth the glide of your next upward stroke, watching in fascinated wonder as the fleshy hood of his foreskin comes up with another soft click to make the clear discharge slowly ooze down the sides of his shaft.

His hips wildly buck and he wails a garbled noise as he needily arches up off the bed, jutting his pelvis out as if in desperate supplication for more. Both of his hands have latched onto your thighs now and he squeezes them tight enough to hurt. But you give him what he wants, what he so clearly needs, pumping your fist up and down the length of him on a steady, energetic rhythm.

Sunday freezes like that, poised with his back bowed and his body flexed away from the mattress. Distantly, you realize that he seems to have stopped breathing altogether, holding the air in his aching lungs while the rest of him stiffly shudders and twitches steadily closer to the edge of oblivion. He was beautiful like this, like something out of a tawdry, lurid painting of some ethereal being from legend or myth.

“Oh, Sunday,” You coo at him, so soft and gentle. Coaxing him ever towards his own ruination. “Are you going to cum for me?”

Wailing a frazzled sound of distress around your spit soaked fingers, he gives his head the barest shake as if to deny the simple reality of what was happening. Unfortunately his own body betrays him almost instantly, and you stare in rapt fascination when his narrow hips stiffly lock up before nudging forward in a reluctant thrust. He’s holding himself far too unrelentingly to execute the full range of motion but it’s enough to have him fucking into your hand in painful, tortuously slow increments.

He just can’t seem to help himself or smother the urge completely, even when the rolling grind of his pelvis was clearly something foreign to him. But it’s instinctive and hard coded, muscle memory carved into the very atoms of his body more than anything else. And you can see the musculature in his slim thighs trembling fiercely, the flex of his stomach dramatic while he wheezes and gasps his pleasure into the otherwise still air. You knew your fingers weren’t doing as sufficient a job at muffling him as your palm would have, but you can’t quite bring yourself to move or even care very much about that right now.

Especially not when he gives one final, stuttering thrust into the squeeze of your hand and his cock positively erupts in a sudden spray of white. Creamy and thick, it shoots up into the air on what you would consider an impressive arc before splattering across his front. A second jet quickly follows the first, and then a third, while Sunday all but sobs through his orgasm, wetly choking on it even as he gradually sinks back down to the bed in a drained heap of splayed limbs.

The eager pulse along his length quickly slows, oozing yet more of that clear discharge to dribble down the length of his shaft in sticky tracks before at last subsiding completely. He’s already a complete mess with various bodily fluids coating his skin but you still give him one final squeeze and drag your hand up to draw the last little bit of his release out of his flagging cock. He seethes a delirious sound in response, head lolling back in doped out bliss while he tries to even out his breathing again to no avail.

“How was that?” You prod, smiling to yourself as you withdraw your fingers from his mouth. A sticky wad of saliva follows after you, catching on his bottom lip, and you brush your thumb up to helpfully wipe it away, ignoring the mirthless, gasping laugh he rattles out. “It looked like you enjoyed it to me. Was that really your first orgasm?”

Somewhat awkwardly clearing his no doubt dry and scratchy throat, Sunday pointedly turns his head to look elsewhere. Still shy and reticent to openly show any of his emotions, but he certainly felt more relaxed in your arms than he had before. “I wouldn’t have any reason to lie about that, would I? Or do you take me for some kind of shameless masochist?”

Allowing a brief giggle to slip out, you lean further into him so you can find his neck and deliver a soft peck to the still thrumming pulse under his skin. Sucking in a deeply flustered inhale, he snaps his attention back around to look at you with wide, startled eyes. That makes you laugh too, much to his pouting confusion.

“What?” He demands at last.

“Nothing. I was just thinking how cute you really are, that’s all.”

His brows shoot up almost too fast for you to track the motion. “Cute? M - me? But I don’t —“

“It’s alright, Sunday. Just go with the flow. You feel pretty good right now, don’t you?” Grinning at the uncertainty that flashes across his face, you lower your chin to rest against his shoulder, much like how you’d first started. Realistically only a few minutes had passed but it felt like an entire lifetime had come and gone, and yet you were still right back to this again.

In the following silence while Sunday chews on that and mulls it over, you rove your attention down to inspect the damage you’d caused. Luckily his coat had been more or less out of the way where you’d spread it open earlier, and it looked like the quickly cooling evidence of this sneaky tryst had mostly landed in harmless flecks across the darker inner shirt underneath. That was a small relief, if you were being honest. You didn’t even want to think about all the fussing he’d do if you stained his white jacket like that.

“Well,” he says at last, rousing you from your thoughts. “While I still think your methods are unscrupulous and incredibly underhanded … I suppose I still owe you my thanks. I do indeed feel more at ease than I did before. Now if you’ll excuse me —“

Quickly looping your arms around his middle when he makes a move to stand up, you yank him back against you with another laugh. “Nuh-uh. We’re not done yet, Sunny. I need to help you clean up that mess first.”

Choking on a protest, he reaches down to shove at your arms but you don’t budge, pointedly nuzzling into him from behind as if to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere until you decided to let him go. After another brief moment of cursory struggle, he finally gives up and slumps against you with a terse click of his tongue.

“Really, is this truly necessary?” He grumbles under his breath, lifting a hand to subconsciously wipe the remaining spit off his chin with an air of distaste. “Haven’t you gotten what you wanted out of me already? I'd think you would be satisfied by now, Miss Stellaron.”

You hum a sly sound at that, coquettishly walking two of your fingers up the front of his shirt to one of the bigger globs of milky white bleeding into the material. He goes still against you, mouth dropping open in what could only be abject shock when you swipe one of the digits through the mess before lifting it up to your face.

Looking appropriately scandalized now, Sunday tracks the motion with wide, horrified eyes. “Wh - what are you doing? That’s —“

Popping your cum coated fingertip into your mouth earns you a strangled gasp and he tries to reel back from you as if in disgust. But you keep your arm locked around his middle, holding him firmly in place while you suck the digit clean. Sunday’s wings flutter an anxious beat and tuck forward to curl defensively over the lower half of his face but it does very little to hide the furious blush staining his cheeks. He looked even more like a ripe cherry ready to be plucked than when you’d been holding his cock in your hand.

“It’s nothing to be so embarrassed about.” You tell him candidly when you slide your finger out and reach back down to swipe it through the sticky fluid on his shirt again. “You don’t taste bad, if that’s what you’re thinking. I like how you feel in my mouth.”

His eyes nervously darting from side to side, up and down, anywhere but directly at you, he tries to speak, croaks, and then awkwardly clears his throat again. “But - but that’s … unhygienic, isn’t it? That came out of my … my - -“

Softly laughing at how dangerously close he seems to fainting dead away like some sort of swooning maiden in an old movie, you catch a clinging glob of his spend and lift it up towards his face this time. “It’s fine, I promise. You taste good, Sunday. I wouldn’t lie to you. Here, try it for yourself?”

He makes a face at that, reminding you of a kid that doesn’t want to take his medicine, but at your gentle prodding he slowly lowers his wings. The drooping feathers brush against your curled fingers just so, almost making you tremble at their light touch as you watch him differentially drop his gaze. Submissive and pliable, a clear sign of his bending to your will.

Your earlier arousal flares back to life with a vengeance, making you feel uncomfortably warm and damp between the legs. Holding the air in your lungs, you nudge your hand closer and he obediently parts his lips for you with a tiny, shuddering whimper. Eyes slipping shut when you slide into his mouth again so you can drag your fingertip across his tongue and smear the salty discharge, making sure he got a good taste of it, he issues a faltering breath that puffs against your knuckles.

“See? Not so terrible, is it?” You murmur, your voice drawling at a lower octave than usual. Watching him come to terms with his own body was almost as distracting as the need pulsing in your loins, demanding attention and relief in equal measure. You wanted him. More of him. All of him.

But would he have you?

Groaning a threadbare little sound, Sunday flutters his lashes and cautiously opens them to peer over at you. For a drawn out moment the two of you just stare at one another, gazes locked and searching. Questioning. Begging.

And then, ever so sweetly, he closes his mouth and gives your finger an experimental suck, swallowing down the evidence of your illicit activities. A stuttering exhale escapes him as you slowly withdraw your hand, giving him just enough space to breathe for a second. You wanted him to decide for himself how he wanted to proceed, what his next move should be.

Because what you’d said earlier was the truth. You were not his jailer, nor were you going to willingly facilitate that self flagellating streak of his either. If he wanted to come to you it would be in mutual pleasure and enjoyment, as equals with a vested interest in each other's happiness. Not as punishment or penance for something you’d already decided to forgive him for.

“M - Miss Stellaron, I …”

The way his wings start to shyly curl inward again, wanting to hide behind them, brings another smile to your face. He really was too cute like this. “What is it, Sunny?”

He sucks in a mildly bothered breath at that. “I told you not to — never mind. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. And you were right. It wasn’t terrible. In all honesty, nothing you’ve done today was … entirely disagreeable in my eyes. So if you’d like to … I mean, if it pleases you we could …”

“Keep going?” You helpfully offer up, making his expression pinch in obvious embarrassment.

“W - well, should you insist I … I guess I wouldn’t have any complaints about that. But only if you want to. I don’t care either way.”

“Sure you don’t.” Practically grinning from ear to ear now, you place your hand against his shoulder and push to get him turned around. He still refuses to look directly at you, evidently finding the pattern on your bedspread far more interesting in that moment, but he doesn’t change his mind or try to pull away when you lean into him.

Tipping your head so you can dip into the space between his nervously fluttering wings, you find Sunday’s mouth and kiss him. Tentatively at first to see how he’ll react, but when all he does is whimper a flustered sound against your lips you press harder, letting your hunger for him dictate your actions. His hands carefully come up to slide around your neck while his wings slowly fall open, letting you in as he holds you against him, and you feel like you just might burst.

To be wanted by someone like him felt like a blessing and a curse all wrapped up in one. By initiating this had you only sped up his ruination from perfect and holy to mere mortal, or had you just engineered your own downfall in the same breath?

You’d find out soon enough.

⭐

Cross posted: here

#honkai star rail #sunday #sunday x reader #self insert bullshit

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