#ill go back and tag this with an au name when i come up with one

[trickstarbrave]

i crave validation so i think i’ll keep posting this au on here in more bite sized pieces (bc some of my chapters on ao3 are. astronomically long. good lord)

more reincarnated voryn au. no i dont have a name for this au yet bc im bad at names. yes i am taking suggestions 😭

first part here

--

When Voryn opened his eyes next, he was laying on something soft. Impossibly soft in fact, softer than anything he’d laid on before in his life. He was used to bed rolls or sleeping on nothing but the hard ground in fact, so a comfortable mattress under him was a foreign feeling. 

He groaned softly as he blinked, before a golden hand began to gently wipe his forehead with a cool, damn rag. Voryn sighed softly at the relief that followed, before his eyes moved up to see it was the same stranger who picked up him. 

A warm smile graced the other man’s lips as he looked down at Voryn. 

“You’re awake.” His voice was still soft and gentle, trying hard not to scare him. “You’ve been out for around a day, but it seems like you needed your rest.” He continued to smile, his blue eyes shining brightly. 

Voryn felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know exactly why, but he felt like he had seen this man before. It tickled at the back of his mind like a sense of deja vu, but there was no denying the warmth flooding from his heart at the sight of his smile. 

“How are you feeling?” The golden skinned stranger asked, once again wiping his forehead after dipping the rag in the basin of cool water on the nightstand. 

“... Better.” Voryn replied, his voice still raspy. 

“Do any of your injuries still hurt?” The stranger asked. As Voryn took in the sight of him he could see his robes were rather elegant and high quality, the embroidery on them a stunning gold just like his skin. Voryn didn’t know embroidery could even be gold, yet the threads caught in the late morning sun. 

Why had such a well off man decided to help Voryn? It wasn’t like Voryn didn’t know the scorn higher class people had for people dressed like beggars like him. 

Voryn shook his head in response to his question. “They feel… Much better.” The pain had faded significantly as he laid there, comfortable and lax. 

“What’s your name?” The stranger asked, his voice still soft as he brushed some of the dry, brittle hair from Voryn’s face. Voryn turned slightly. Some people reacted badly to his name, though most didn’t equate Dagoth Ur with Voryn Dagoth whom he was named after. 

“...Voryn.” He answered softly. Regardless of if the handsome elf started yelling and kicked him out though, he was thankful to just get a nice drink of water and his injuries bandaged up. 

“Voryn, hm?” The man smiled warmly. “It’s a nice name.” He gave him a gentle pat on the head, before stroking his hair tenderly. Another flutter ran through Voryn’s heart at the tender touch, waves of familiarity washing over him. “My name is Nerevar.” 

“Nerevar…” He didn’t know why, but the name flowed off his tongue with ease, as though he had always known it. “I… Like that name.” 

He didn’t know why, but there was something in him that… Yearned for Nerevar. Like there was something deep inside him aching and aching, only now being noticed as the pain was soothed away by every gentle word from his lips and every soft touch.

Maybe it was just the fever though, making him feel this way. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate the pleasant feelings bubbling away inside him.

“Are you able to sit up?” Nerevar asked. “I was going to change the bandages on your back, and it’ll be a lot more comfortable for you if you can. Voryn nodded, trying to push himself up, but his arms felt weak. He groaned as he felt the lashes on his back move, the pain of his injuries now slowly returning.

“Shh…” Nerevar held his arms, firm hands still surprisingly gentle despite the strength Voryn could tell he had. “Here, let me help you up.” Nerevar gently pulled him until he was sitting upright, going slow so as to not cause him unnecessary pain.

Voryn couldn’t remember a time he was treated with such care. Even when he was younger the matron warned him to deal with the pain, as eventually through divinity he would surpass it. Yet, here was someone so kind and gentle with him. Someone who soothed the pain rather than scolding him for reacting to it. 

Nerevar unwrapped the bandages around his torso, moving behind him. He brought out a rag soaked with clean water and began gingerly cleaning the lashes on his back. He hissed in pain as the water stung sharply, but Nerevar rubbed his uninjured shoulder and gently hushed him. 

“It’s alright, I know it hurts.” How were his hands so gentle? Voryn marveled at the sensation. He was used to pain any time someone touched him, or at least discomfort. But Nerevar’s hands were so soft and tender, cleaning him gingerly and with care. “Will holding my hand help?” Nerevar asked, moving the hand on his shoulder to instead loop it around and give Voryn access to it. Voryn took it, nervous about gripping him too tightly when he was being so gentle with him.

“Just squeeze it when it hurts, alright?” Nerevar’s voice was still so soft, clearly trying hard not to scare Voryn. “I’m stronger than you might think, so don’t be afraid.”

The cloth brushed against a particularly raw injury and his grip on Nerevar’s hand tightened. He apologized quickly, before Nerevar hushed him again. 

“I told you, I’m stronger than you might think.” Nerevar gave his hand a gentle squeeze back. “Grip it as hard as you need to.” Nerevar’s thumb brushed against his hand now, attempting to soothe him. “It’ll take a lot more than that to hurt me.”

“I still don’t like the idea of hurting you.” Voryn replied. “You’re… Being so kind to me right now. How can I bear the thought?” Nerevar laughed at that, his voice light and airy, as he continued his work gently cleaning him. The sound made Voryn’s heart race.

“It’s alright, I promise.” Nerevar’s voice was so sweet to his ears, his cheeks heating up. “Do you want something else? You can bite on the blanket if it makes it more bearable.” Voryn quickly shook his head, desperate to keep his hand in Nerevar’s grasp. “This is… Fine.” He wondered if he was being ridiculous or not. He’d never wanted to hold someone else as badly as he wanted to right now. The desire was foreign and out of character for him, but he couldn’t deny it wasn’t wholly unwelcomed. 

It was quiet then, as Nerevar gingerly cleaned every injury on his back, before replacing the bandages with new ones, the only sound being soft humming from Nerevar. The tune was familiar too, gradually making his body feel heavy and his eyes droop. “Why don’t you rest up more?” Nerevar’s voice was soft and gentle as he leaned in close to Voryn, helping him lay down. 

“Wait…” Voryn still didn’t let go of the other’s hand, even as it became hard and harder to keep his eyes open. “Please… Don’t go.” Just as he didn’t know why he found the beautiful mer so familiar, he felt anxious closing his eyes, a sudden fear running through him the other would be gone if he dared close his eyes. 

In response, Nerevar gasped, gripping his hand a bit firmer.

“I won’t leave, alright?” He stroked some of the long hair from his face. “I won’t leave you, Voryn.” The hand moving his hair next came to cup his cheek, and Voryn couldn’t help but nuzzle into it, finding comfort in the calloused palm and gentle touch. 

--

He had a strange dream. Voryn didn’t really remember many of his dreams, instead having them be choked out by the strange incense the cult burned or unable to remember them after being kicked awake on the street, but this one was very… Vivid. 

Voryn was anxious in his dream. Anxious and furious, as he cast healing spell after healing spell.

Nerevar’s arm was bleeding out under his palm, part of the bone exposed, all the while Voryn bit back tears.

“What were you thinking?” Voryn hissed, his voice shaking from rage and sobs. “That was the most stupid, idiotic plan you’ve ever had! You didn’t even tell me what you were doing!” Nerevar winced as he was being scolded, the wound closing up under Voryn’s hands. 

“I’m sorry…” Nerevar apologized, unable to meet his gaze.

“Are you?!” Voryn shouted. “Are you actually sorry?!” He grit his teeth, finally finishing up the healing with no magicka in his system to spare. “If you were sorry you wouldn’t do this to me, Neht!” He was actually crying now, unable to hold back his tears. “I could have lost you, do you even care about that? About what that would do to me?!” 

Nerevar’s hands came up to cup his cheeks, bringing Voryn’s face down to his own, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Nerevar continued apologizing, stroking the tears from his skin. “I won’t do anything that risky again.” Voryn grit his teeth again.

“Yes you will.” He held Nerevar’s face too, glaring at him. It was dark in the tent they were in, rain pelting down on it. “You’re reckless, idiotic, arrogant…” Nerevar’s lips smothered the rest of his words with a kiss, warm and passionate.  As much as Voryn wanted to keep scolding him, he didn’t have it in him. He was so very weak to Nerevar’s kisses, his warm mouth desperate for Voryn and only Voryn. He wrapped his arms around Nerevar firmly, kissing back roughly as he pulled Nerevar into his lap. 

When Voryn opened his eyes, he was dazed and confused. 

The dream didn’t feel like a dream should. He felt like he was there, the phantom feeling of Nerevar’s lips on his own. He could still feel the blood on his hands and when he reached up to his face there were tears on his cheeks. 

It was war, he knew that much. What kind of war, he wasn’t certain, but he was there with Nerevar. But that only made it weirder--why was he having such a dream about a man he barely knew? Certain Nerevar was compassionate and stunningly gorgeous, but it felt wrong to be dreaming of such an intimate thing. 

He glanced at his side, noticing there was someone still beside him. Nerevar was sitting in a chair, still holding his hand, asleep while sitting upright. Guilt ran through him in an instant--Nerevar wasn’t even sleeping properly, instead staying like this to watch over Voryn after his delirious request. 

Voryn sat up himself with a groan, nudging Nerevar awake. Blue eyes fluttered open, staring down at him in the light of early dawn. 

“Voryn…?” He asked, sleepily, before yawning. “What do you need?” Nerevar still hadn’t let go of his hand. 

“You should sleep properly.” Voryn answered. 

“You asked me to stay.” Nerevar’s voice was still husky from sleep, a tone that made him shiver. 

“You don’t need to worry about me that much.” Voryn argued. While he was thankful Nerevar had saved him, picked him up from the streets and carried him home to tend to his injuries, that was already more than enough. There was no need to force himself to stay by Voryn’s side and neglect his own wellbeing. “I know it isn’t comfortable to sleep like that.”

“What if I don’t want to leave you alone?” Nerevar asked, something shining in his eyes Voryn could almost recognize, but he instead looked away before he did something stupid. 

“You should take care of yourself.” Voryn scoffed, trying to slide his hand out of Nerevar’s grasp. Nerevar took it again, still looking at him. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” Nerevar repeated, his voice a bit more firm. Voryn could almost hear the unspoken ‘again’ at the end of his sentence, despite it not making sense. 

“Why are you so stubborn…” Voryn hissed, before shifting his weight and groaning in pain.

“Lay back down.” Nerevar hushed him, helping ease him into a comfortable position on his side. After he did, Voryn grabbed his arm and held it firmly. 

“Go lay down yourself.” Nerevar glared slightly, a stubborn frown on his face. 

“Fine. After you go back to sleep.” Voryn glared back.

“You’re lying to me right now, aren’t you?” He grumbled, keeping his grip on his arm tight. “You’re going to stay here, and then when I wake up assure me you slept in your own bed properly when you didn’t, you lying little snake.” Nerevar tried to keep up the stubborn glare, but quickly faltered as he instead started laughing loudly, trying to muffle it with his hand as he all but doubled over onto the bed. 

“I-I’m not--” He spoke between laughs, before Voryn tugged on his sleeve a bit harder. 

“Sleep here then.” Perhaps it was too forward, but he couldn’t stand the sight of Nerevar not taking care of himself, especially not after such a terrifying dream. Nerevar stopped laughing at that, looking back at him with a look of surprise and something else Voryn couldn’t quite name. 

“Are you sure?” Nerevar asked, shifting closer to the bed. 

“If you insist on staying here you might as well lay down on something comfortable.” Voryn replied, looking away. “I refuse to have my benefactor sleeping while sitting upright.” 

It took much less prodding than Voryn had expected. Shortly after that Nerevar climbed in beside him, resting his head on the pillow with ease with his back to Voryn. Voryn was also surprised by how natural it felt to share a bed with someone--even when he was younger the matron never comforted him from nightmares that quickly faded from his mind but still left him trembling. He’d expected he’d find it uncomfortable as he did spending time with the rest of the worshipers. But with Nerevar… 

His arms moved on instinct, one slipping around Nerevar’s waist. The golden skinned elf seemed to enjoy the embrace, sighing happily and moving his hand down to hold Voryn’s, stroking his skin. 

“Sleep well, Voryn.” Nerevar murmured.

[girlmetalsonic]

an organic metal au of mine that rotates in my brain often

(reblogs>likes)

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (8)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. profanity, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode nine

9:21 AM.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of your index finger drumming a slow and steady cadence against the table was nearly in perfect synchronization to the tick tock of the clock above the wall behind you. An icy, uninviting atmosphere was the best way to describe the current situation inside the conference room at this time of the morning, with the gelid detachment between the boss and her employees as you built a wall—an impenetrable wall—around yourself to keep the inner turmoil you had in your head. 

So, you listened. You succumbed to silence as a result. 

“I’d like to present this new idea that we, along with the ecommerce team, have come up with to increase engagement on our website.” Even as the marketing manager started to speak, you remained frigid. “We did go through some feedback that people have been posting online and they’re mostly saying that the current web theme is too plain and that they’re hoping to see a more engaging website, so we would love to propose some ideas that could improve Hearte’s overall online presence. We know that keeping the brand’s look consistent is very important, especially now that Hearte is still establishing its own name in the fashion industry, and we have currently done a phenomenal job with our brand style. However, as the online website is our visual storefront, not only is its functionality critical, but we also have to ensure that the web design is in line with our aesthetics.” 

9:26 AM. 

You leaned back on your chair with your arms crossed, looking up to speak to the manager from across the conference room. “Let’s keep the unnecessary introduction short and just go straight to the point,” you strictly announced, receiving curious eyes in return as it was their first time seeing you becoming all stern and unamused. Such an odd sight to see from a boss who used to have the brightest of sunshines reflecting on her smile. “What’s the proposal?” 

The marketing manager cleared her throat and moved her presentation onto the next slide. “Yes, Ms. Y/N. So… uh, based on the data that you can see on the screen, our online sales increased by 15% for the past two weeks, but we still have about 10% of shoppers abandoning their shopping carts. Earlier this week, we set up email campaigns and social reminders to decrease our abandonment rate and urge shoppers to return to their carts. While working with the IT team, we did some A/B testing to determine which version would drive our business metrics. We’ve also reached out to The Society Management and added Kendall Jenner to our PR list so that possibly, in the future, we can get her as a model for our landing page and attract the western market,” she continuously explained in a manner to convince you of how much effort their department was doing to increase Hearte’s sales, “But what we believe could bring a tremendous improvement on our website engagement is by introducing style guides. This will capture the interest of the audience now that they can mix and match some outfits based on their own style, and—”

9:32 AM.

Sigh.

“Ms. Ono, I have to be honest, but I expected more from you,” you cut her off by leaving a frank comment on her presentation, “Fashion brands have been doing style guides for years. You make it sound like it’s unique, but it’s nothing new. How sure are we that it will actually bring a dramatic improvement on our website engagement? I doubt most of them would even browse through it.” 

“Well, uh…” The marketing manager faltered, glancing at the head of the social media team for some help, which she didn’t end up receiving. “I think it’ll work the way we want it to as long as we introduce engaging copies that make buyers fall in love with the designs.” 

“You think?” You criticized her word of choice. “Ms. Ono, I gave you enough time to brainstorm with your team, so the moment you step inside of this conference room, you should have prepared whatever strategy you had in mind. I don’t settle for ambitious words like ‘I think’ or ‘I believe’. I want to hear a proposal that’s original, unique, and captivating. I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you know what you’re doing before you waste everyone’s time like this. Do you understand? Am I being clear? I want a proposal that would definitely get us somewhere and not just by assuming we will.” 

Were you being too harsh? They said that the fashion industry in itself was harsh, so what was so surprising about seeing you being strict, candid, and business-like? This was the nature of your job. This was normal. 

9:47 AM. 

Very timidly did Nobara raise her hand beside you to chime in on the discussion. “I know I’m not in the position to make suggestions, but…” She pressed something on her laptop before carefully sliding it to your side of the table, showing you what appears to be a classic early 2000s ‘dress-up game’ with a base model and a selection of outfits that were inspired by your designs. “I just wanted to show you this, Ms. Y/N. I do agree with Ms. Ono’s idea to introduce style guides, but maybe we can do it in an interactive way. I know the dress-up game idea may look childish and unsophisticated, but I was kinda hoping that we can just make certain adjustments so that it could match Hearte’s classy and simplistic style. We can have base models in different body types and skin tones to show our brand’s diversity, then we can have shoppers try dressing them up using the outfits on our current collection. That allows them to easily visualize how the pieces would look on a certain skin tone and body type.” 

The way everyone else in that conference table looked at Nobara was very obvious that they were expecting you to reprimand her for even having the guts to offer such a farcical idea. What does she know? They were probably thinking that. You’re just an intern. You knew they were saying that in their minds. On the other hand, you surprisingly liked her proposal and enjoyed the unique idea of introducing it to the website because her proposal actually did make sense. People would be curious, people would try it out by interacting with the website, and that means the engagement would rise up. 

“I like that idea. We can go with that,” you said, sliding the laptop back to her while nodding at the marketing and social media managers, “I need the team to discuss Nobara’s idea further and polish it thoroughly before we can start adding it onto the website. Make adjustments as needed and ensure that everything is still in line with our brand. If you notice any flaws with this proposal, you can flag them with me and I’ll review them.” 

9:54 AM. 

Just as you were about to wrap up the meeting, a certain someone entered the conference room in haste—panting out of breath with her long, wavy hair and creased red pants. “I’m so sorry, I’m late.” 

Her casualness made you clench your jaws tightly, fueling the fire to your already terrible day. You could no longer stop yourself from unleashing your rage as you looked up at her with a critical squint. “Ms. Hirai, what time’s it?” 

“It’s ten, I know. I’m so sorry,” she repeated her apologies and paid an apologetic bow to everyone in the meeting room, “I’m sorry, everyone. I was caught up in heavy traffic today.” 

You let out a silent scoff and ignored her compunctious act. “How long are we gonna keep using that excuse, really?” you questioned her, earning the intrigued eyes of your employees who were all sensing the sudden tension between you and your best friend, “As the fashion merchandiser and my second-in-command, you should’ve been here in this meeting with me, but where were you? You anticipated that there would be heavy traffic, yet you couldn’t be responsible enough in coming to work early knowing that we have a meeting? Or was it because you’re too busy doing other things so you’re no longer interested in showing up to work on time?” 

Akemi shook her head, contritely. “It’s… It’s not like that.” 

“Not like what?” Your icy stare bored into her. No trace of compassion was present in your eyes. “I’m sure you’re living a very blissful life outside of work and I’m glad you are, but is that also why you don’t bother with anything else anymore?” 

“Y/N—”

“Miss Y/N,” you corrected, “I’m your boss, so treat me like one.” 

Wide, chocolate brown eyes greeted you in response. It was clear that she was at a loss of words and could only repeat her meaningless apologies a thousand times. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Y/N. It won’t happen again.” 

“You didn’t even let me know that you’ll be coming in late,” you continued and ignored the pitiful expression on her face, focusing on her swollen red lips and her dewy, rosy cheeks. She must have had a really good morning to look like a cherry blossom on a spring day. Was she so preoccupied being all lovey dovey with your ex-husband this morning? Did she sleep comfortably on the same marital bed you used to share with him? Your jaw tensed visibly. “You’re just coming in whenever you want. You don’t respect people’s time. You don’t respect my rules. You don’t respect me.” 

Yes, you were overreacting by taking things too personally and it was the reason why you got up from your seat and bolted out of the conference room upon realizing your unusual outburst. You could hear the clicking sound of your stiletto echoing across the corridor as you stomped towards your office, swinging the glass door open and heading straight towards the ceiling-to-floor window to have some peace of mind. Peace? How ridiculous. How could you find peace? You couldn’t even grasp the fact that your best friend was acting like everything was normal. You couldn’t understand why she was rubbing her relationship to your face as if she wasn’t just a placeholder to somebody’s ex wife.

“Y/N?” Akemi’s voice cut you out of your toxic trail of thoughts—your mouth thinning with displeasure while you didn’t bother turning around to meet her gaze. Breathe. You had to breathe and think rationally. “I…I understand you’re really angry right now, but I was hoping we can have this much needed talk.” 

You could feel her reaching for your hand at the height of your frustration and your defensive instinct led you to angrily swing your arm away, accidentally hitting her cheek as you pivoted on your heel to face her. It took two seconds for your eyes to shift from glaring in frustration to widening in surprise after seeing the small cut your diamond ring left on her cheek. “Are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah, no, it’s fine,” she insisted with her palm pressed onto the right side of her face. “I deserved it.” 

Good lord. What was happening to you? Despite having all these unspoken rage and unresolved conflicts between the two of you, you would still drop everything and be concerned for her. You would still let your walls collapse. You were the villain that couldn’t stick to being a villain. Why? Why did you feel this way? Was it because you knew she wasn’t technically doing anything wrong? Or was it because you were just projecting your personal frustrations onto her? Was betrayal really the issue here? Or was it the huge possibility that she could in fact be Gojou’s one true love? You had thought of this before, but the same questions in your head never stopped. And never did they stop from invading your headspace as you made your way towards the small fridge to grab an ice pack that you soon offered to Akemi, leading her to one of the couches while finally coming into your senses. 

Yet there was silence and nothing but awkward silence when you two sat at a safe distance from each other. 

“I’m shameless.” She was the first one to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I know you’re thinking that and I do agree with you. I really am shameless to even look you in the eye right now.” 

You sighed and looked away, only to keep yourself from the furnace of pain that you had been bottling inside. “Stop. You’re making me seem like a villain right now. I’m tired of seeing myself this way.”

She closed her legs and sat humbly, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. “You’re not. You’re not a villain and you never were,” said the same woman you accidentally smacked a few minutes ago, “I understand why you would feel a certain way towards me. I’d even understand if you hate me so much that you wanna murder me. I’m your best friend and I know about your history with Satoru, yet here I am seeing your ex-husband behind your back. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t plan it. I truly didn’t. Even though you’re not together anymore and I’m technically not homewrecking anyone, I’m still putting us—you and I—in a really awkward position. You didn’t deserve any of that and I’m very sorry.” 

At least, she was self-aware. But looking at the brighter side of things, you were getting calmer now that you were hearing her side of the story, though that didn’t stop you from feeling any less horrible. “I don’t really care who you date,” you claimed, adamantly, “And I most definitely do not care who Satoru chooses to date. We’ve been divorced for three years.” 

“It’s still not right that I’m seeing him.” She let her guilt speak up for her. 

And you let your resentment speak for you. “Then, why him of all people?”

“It’s…” 

“Complicated?” 

“Y-Yeah…” 

You decided to keep a straight face. “How did this happen?” 

Akemi looked as if you had just forced her to be on the hot seat because of the apathy on your visage. “It was a drunken mistake at first and we kinda just…”

“I’m not asking about when you two started fucking,” you replied, bluntly. Something you had never done before in your usual sophisticated vocabulary. “I’m asking when you realized you have feelings for him. When did you fall in love with him?” 

She had trouble finding the right answer. “It just happened. I d-don’t really know. Whenever you asked me to look after him, I guess the bond he and I developed from that made me see him in a different light.” 

You disregarded the pain in your chest and let the volcano explode on its own, because her answer only meant that she was already growing feelings for your ex-husband at the same time you were confiding to her about him. That was the worst part of it all. 

“Why do you like him?” you questioned further, “Despite knowing what happened while I was married to him, why did you still end up falling in love with him? If that’s so hard to answer, then don’t think about us or me or our friendship. Just think about the decisions you made for yourself. Why are you with Satoru?” 

Her gaze found the floor. Hesitance. Guilt. Shame. Those emotions were all dancing in her eyes in a complete roundabout. While she took a moment to fully reassess her decision, you weren’t sure if you deserved to still feel hurt when she gave you an honest answer. “When I met Satoru, I didn’t meet the toxic, cheating ex-husband that he was known for,” she said, slowly, “I met a man who holds such a high respect for his ex-wife, adores his son like his greatest gift of all, and values his marriage more than anything else in this world. I met a vulnerable man who isn’t afraid to open his heart to strangers. A man who gave me emotional support even when he’s the one who needed it the most. I… It’s hard to explain, but…” 

Was there really anything left to say? Her point was clear, and your silence while she was speaking was more so because you were trying not to let the tiny pricks in your heart affect you further than it already did. The fullness of her voice and the way her eyes shined when she talked about him were enough to tell you that your best friend had truly fallen in love and you would be cruel to take that away from her. Even from him. They would not have been involved in such an intimate relationship if there had been no attraction between them to begin with, so then… Why did it feel like you were being cheated on? She was no Sera, and he was not the Satoru that only used you for his corporate ambitions. It was just Akemi and Satoru—they were each other’s right person at the right time. The only thing blocking their path to a loving relationship was you. 

You. The irrational and spiteful ex-wife. The ex-wife who always played the ‘victim card’. The selfish ex-wife who wanted all the good things to only come her way. 

Well, god be damned, because you were beginning to confuse yourself with the version of you that wasn’t even remotely like you at all. She was just a mirrored image of yourself that you thought people perceived. 

“You can do what you want.” The moment you spoke again, you were already creating a huge wall between you and your best friend, making sure that there were boundaries that none of you should ever cross now that she had chosen to be with someone you had sincerely loved in the past. It may sound like you were letting go, but truth be told, you just didn’t think that you even had the option to hold onto anything. Satoru wasn’t yours and you weren’t his anymore. You were two individuals living separate lives. “If you wanna be with him, that’s your choice. I don’t plan on intervening. It just… just really surprised me that you didn’t have the decency to tell me at all.” 

Akemi nodded, apologetically desperate. “I understand how you’re feeling and I’m sorry. I really, truly am sorry, Y/N.” Her voice and her countenance did show the genuineness in her plea to be forgiven, but you were too numb to feel anything else. “I hope we can stay friends despite everything.” 

How could you even stay friends in a situation like this? 

First option was to keep pretending that their relationship wasn’t bothering you. Second option was to focus on your own relationship with Toji to the point where everything else just didn’t matter anymore.

Yeah, you thought. You could certainly choose the latter. 

“Our friendship isn’t my top priority at the moment,” was your straightforward response to her, “I wanna focus on my son and his relationship with his father. That’s all.” 

Any regular person would have thought: ‘Wow, Y/N. You handled that well.’ ‘You’re so mature.’ ‘You’re a lot calmer than we expected.’ The thing was, you really did think that you had been way too calm about it. In spite of the scene you caused at the conference room, or the dramatic exchange you had with Akemi in your office, you still handled it much better than one would think. In TV shows or movies, the ex-wife would have dragged the best friend to the ground, slapped her face, pulled her hair, started a nasty catfight, and called her all the terrible labels you could think of. Look, part of you wanted to do that. And the other part of you—the sympathetic, altruistic part of you—thought you shouldn’t do that. You would only look pathetic. 

Of all the negative things Satoru had made you feel over the course of your failure of a marriage, this aftermath was probably the toughest. 

You just weren't in the right state of mind to justify why. 

You also couldn’t justify why you had been looking for unhealthy ways to cope with stress and anxiety. If anyone from your family saw you standing at the smoking area near the parking lot right now, they would have given you an earful of how you must be out of your mind for even putting a cigarette stick between your lips. How exactly could tobacco be good for you? You would say, first of all, that nicotine does in fact cause pleasant feelings to distract you from unpleasant ones. You couldn’t find any other way to relax your mind any faster than one cigarette stick could. Besides, staying in the office and seeing Akemi around was getting too suffocating and you couldn’t afford to have your negative mood lingering in your mind for the rest of the day. One stick wouldn’t hurt. Another one wouldn’t, too. And another one should be fine, right? 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

The irony. You didn’t even have the time to recoil before the main cause of your stress showed up in front of you, frowning after he snatched the cigarette stick out of your lips. He was quick to throw it to the ground, stomp on it like he would do with your heart, and give you a questioning look that made you scoff at the ridiculousness of this situation. This could be a dream for heaven’s sake. Or a hallucination. There was no way Satoru Gojou would be standing right in front of you just as you were thinking about him.

“Since when have you been doing this?” he questioned again, holding your wrist this time to make you realize that his presence or this interaction wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It would have been better that way, but the reality was, Satoru was there and he wasn’t the least bit pleased. “I know you’re mad at me and this isn’t the right time for me to chew you out like this, but…” he paused, taking your cigarette pack. “I can’t believe you’re fucking smoking right now, Y/N. Did you get this habit from Toji?”

Okay. Gojou could be way out-of-line sometimes, but this was the apex of it. 

“Don’t bring Toji into this,” you snapped back, shooting him a glare that could easily kill. “What are you doing here?”

You could see how deep his inhale was just by the loudness of his sigh after it. His face showed a combination of yearning, regret, frustration, and pity as if he was deciding which emotion should dominate him more. But among the multitude of emotions that were drowning him right now like a tidal wave, he looked all the more exhausted. Whether it was dealing with you, trying to make amends with you, or simply being around you—you could tell that he wanted to drop his constant need to care for you because it was beginning to tire him out. 

He didn’t really answer your question, and instead, asked one of his own. “Are you smoking because of stress?” he asked, trying to mask the sympathy in his eyes. “It’s bad for you. Set a good example for Sachiro.” 

You’re bad for me, you wanted to say. Why did it even matter to him, anyway? You were nothing more than just a mother to his child. Anything outside that role was completely not his business anymore. The fact that he was even within the vicinity of your office was ridiculous, because you were already having a bad day and his presence was adding further into it. “Don’t you dare talk about setting a good example to my son like you’re so righteous yourself.” 

“Y/N, come on.” He reached for your hand once more as if trying to show how much he cared or how worried he was with what you were doing to yourself because of him. “I don’t want you to—”

“Keep your fucking distance, Gojou. You’re not in the place to give a damn about me anymore,” you raged, withdrawing your wrist and breathing heavily as you tried to keep yourself from further exploding. You would have. You were so close to cursing him off, but you saw the flash of pure shock in his eyes, and that was how you realized what you just did. All these violent reactions, these unusual outbursts—these were not you. This was not the meek, soft-spoken ex-wife that he was once married to. 

“Toru?” 

Unfortunately, Gojou no longer had enough attention span to listen when he looked away, only to turn to his new woman with a genuinely worried expression painted on his face as soon as he saw her coming out of the building with a hand on her cheek. You realized that he was actually here to pick her up and was doing everything that a caring boyfriend would; checking every inch of her face to see how bad she was hurt and asking her what happened and whether she was okay. You didn’t know how to react the moment he turned back to you with his tired, yet passively accusatory eyes. “Did something happen?” 

You knew that his question actually translated to: ‘Did you slap her?’ With your thorough knowledge about his acquired trauma from physical violence, you felt the sudden need to clear your name, but you didn’t know if you should be grateful that it was already your best friend who did the part in doing such. “Nothing happened. It was an accident.” Her tone was almost begging before she started tugging his arm. “Let’s just go, please.” 

Satoru didn’t want to let it go, but decided that it was best to just leave it be as he glanced at you with a slightly detached gaze. “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he reminded, referring to the dreaded New York trip together with Sachiro. 

A conflicted look from him and an apologetic gaze from her. That was all that you received before they got inside the car and left you alone and miserable in that parking lot. You watched his car fade into view with her on the passenger seat and him probably holding her hand as he drove through the street. Just when you thought you could actually stomach the sight of him and her together, it would be a big fat lie to say that it didn’t sting. It stung worse than the times he ran after Sera than to stay behind with you. Worse than when he used to treat you like a mistress rather than a wife. 

You must be going crazy, indeed. Who in their right mind would cry over her ex-husband in the middle of the parking lot? Why would you even shed tears when you were the one who wanted him to find someone else and move on? This was becoming a never-ending loop because you were letting yourself be affected by it. It shouldn’t be that way. Never. 

“Toji.” You were doing your hardest to conceal the weakness in your voice as you pressed your phone into your right ear. “I-I need you… right now. Please.” 

“Hey, I was just about to pick-up Sachi from daycare. Is everything okay?” 

Wiping your eyes, you looked at the dull skies wondering if the universe was trying to reflect all these emotions running inside of you. “Yeah… Can you come soon?” 

He didn’t really hesitate to answer, quickly understanding that he had to drop everything else right now and be with you. “Alright, I’ll be there.” 

Satoru was conflicted, but he didn’t know what exactly made him feel that way. Was it because he saw you smoking in the parking lot? Or was it because he could tell that you gave Akemi a tongue-lashing after catching her half-naked at the penthouse a few days ago? Either way, both options were not very you. And he couldn’t understand why you were slowly starting to look less and less like the person he knew, which was confusing on his part because you had been adamant on telling him to forget about you. You were rigid on your decision to not let him enter your life as your husband for the second time around. He told you he still loved you, but you said you loved another. He told you he wanted to work things out and make your family complete again, but you said you were already doing that with someone else. Gojou knew his hands weren’t clean and the reason you may be acting that way was because out of all the women he could have been with, it had to be Akemi Hirai. Your best friend. Your confidante. Your business partner. She was a territory he shouldn’t have crossed, yet he did. 

But, at the same time, she was the only person who had been there for him during his lowest. She was the company he needed when his heart was the loneliest. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times she came to his aid when he was crying over his memories of you, memories that he could no longer hold onto. Akemi brought peace to his heart, and if there was anyone else he could be with, it would be her. 

It was becoming more and more clear to him how he felt about her. 

Although, voicing that out loud was a different story. Keeping it in his thoughts was for the best because he didn’t want to lead Akemi on. She didn’t deserve that nor did she deserve to feel like a substitute for someone else. He wanted to be a hundred percent sure about being with her before he could fully confess his real feelings for her. It could still develop through time, perhaps far better and more passionate than what he was sharing with her right now, but until then, settling for what they had at this moment in time was for the better. What was important was that both parties were clear about diving into this relationship. 

He wasn’t ready for commitment and she understood that. She was willing to wait for him. She was helping him move on in the least painful way. Where else could he meet such a person like her? 

She was gentle, motherly, sensitive, and intuitive. She was classy and sophisticated. She knew how to dress nicely. Her nails were always clean and pretty. Her smile was very charming. Her laugh, endearing. She was the perfect woman anyone could have. 

“Why’d you suddenly want to go to the mall?” she asked, intertwining their hands together as she looked up at him with her beautiful doe eyes. Her question made him cut out of his trance, remembering that they were strolling around the galleria. 

He touched the small wound on her cheek as if stroking it could make it heal faster. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a last minute idea.”

Truthfully, Gojou wasn’t sure why he had brought her there. All he knew was that he had a lot going on in his mind while he was driving through the city and the next thing he knew, he was already pulling up at the galleria out of his natural instinct. But since they were already there, he might as well buy her a little something. Anything. And then his eyes caught sight of Chanel as if the high-end boutique was pulling his feet with such gravity that it led him to go inside the store while hand-in-hand with the woman next to him. 

“Mr. Gojou, how are you?” 

Right. The staff knew him so well, especially for the amount of times he had been there with his ex-wife when you two were still married. 

“Are you looking for anything specific?” One of the familiar ladies that used to assist you approached him with a lingering stare towards Akemi. “Perhaps for your…?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, can you… uh,” he turned towards the rack of tweed sets, “Do you have any new collections?” 

“Yes, absolutely,” said another lady, “Right this way, sir.” 

It was easy to notice how the staff were exchanging glances at the sight of Satoru and Akemi together, but his mind was far too distracted by the nostalgia of being in that place alone to even care about his surroundings. All he did was look back at Akemi and encourage her to try out the newest collections that they had, thinking that she was oblivious about what was going through his head. “You go and pick whatever you like.” 

Although she was clearly not used to it, Akemi did eventually try on some of the outfits he specifically had chosen for her. They were Chanel’s signature tweed sets that he always found to be very elegant, and he definitely wasn’t wrong that they would suit her when she came out of the dressing room to show him how the clothes wrapped her small frame perfectly. 

He could see your smile through her face, your excitement when you tried the outfits on, and the shine in your eyes when you looked at yourself in the mirror. Except, Gojou had to remind himself that you weren’t her. That his mind was just messing with him. 

No, this was wrong. Why was he thinking about you while he was with her? 

He had to have some sort of distraction. Something so tangible that all of his senses would go numb. 

The one way he was able to overcome that dilemma was by sharing yet another steamy exchange with Akemi later that night. He couldn’t remember who initiated first, but it must have been the equal desire that they had for each other when they dove straight into a heated makeout session the moment they stepped inside his bedroom. One thing led to another. First he was kissing her lips, then her collarbones, then her inner thighs—devouring her completely with his lust-driven actions, doing the most by pleasuring her body using his own. 

She was a giver just as she was a receiver. Not that he didn’t expect her to be so experienced when it came to sex, but she definitely knew what she was doing without any guidance from him. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to it anymore. Perhaps he had just forgotten how it felt to have sex with someone who didn’t rely on him to initiate the next steps they should do. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone stared at his eyes while putting his hardened member inside her mouth the way she did. She knew her power over him while at his most vulnerable state, ruining his masculine ego and destroying it with her own feminine pride. 

And in the midst of their intimate session, Gojou was zoning out while he was sliding a condom across his shaft, ready to enter her from the back. His mind was giving him a flash of memory, not a distant but recent one from two days ago.

“I still can’t believe you did that, Mom. You’re being ridiculous.” 

His mother wasn’t exactly showing the slightest hint of regret on her face despite knowing full well that sending the custody claim almost made you lose your mind. She was keeping a straight face as she sat on the barstool next to him, taking a sip of wine from her glass while he, on his own, was downing a glass of scotch. “She had it coming.”

Satoru sighed his frustration away. “Don’t do that again or today’s the last time you’ll ever see me.” 

“What are you talking about?” His mother frowned. “Who was there for you when you were trying to end your own life because of the lies she told you, huh? You’re feeling bad for her now, but did she feel bad for you back then? You missed three years of your son’s life because she was being too spiteful towards you.” 

He had never met someone more stubborn than his own mother, but maybe this was a clear sign for Satoru to realize where he must have acquired that one similar trait of his. After all, people always made it seem that he was more like his dad even though he despised being compared to his father. To say that his mother was a complete angel was a lie. But neither was he. “Whatever, just don’t… Just leave Y/N alone. She’s still the mother of my child and I don’t want us to keep fighting. At least, for Sachi’s sake.” 

His mother finished her glass of wine before turning the stool towards his direction. There was a minute of silence that passed between them before she spoke again. “I just don’t want you to get back with her, darling. You two are toxic together.” 

Funny, because he could say the same thing for her and his father. “Well, it’s not gonna happen now. Y/N’s gonna hate me forever.” 

“What, ‘cause she rejected you again?” 

“No,” he countered, shaking his head and chugging all the remaining liquor on his glass. “She knows about the thing I have with Akemi now.” 

Her mouth fell open, gasping as she did so. “Y-You… and Akemi? Are you together?” 

Satoru expected this reaction from her, but didn’t think she would actually be more fixated on his new relationship than the effect it would bring on her ex-daughter-in-law. “It’s not something to be proud of, Mom.” 

“Well, I’m proud of you,” she still stressed that fact, “It’s nice to hear that you’re finally moving on, Satoru. Y/N is not good for you, but I know Akemi will be. I like her and I know she’ll make you a lot happier than Y/N ever did.” 

“You’re still awake?” Gojou let out a yawn as he felt the heaviness of his eyelids telling him that it was time to sleep. He tried checking the time on his phone, but realized that he still had the photo of you and Sachiro as his lockscreen. He wasn’t planning on changing it anytime soon, but considering that Akemi saw it, he was expecting that she would have something to say, yet nothing came out of her mouth. She simply stayed silent while laying on his chest, letting him touch the slope of her naked back as she slightly raised her head to meet his eyes. He had already closed his phone and placed it back on the nightstand. “What, did I not tire you enough?” 

“Shut up.” She hid her reddened cheeks and smiled on the crook of his neck. Her hand was placed on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbones. “No, I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna manage New York and all.” 

Satoru’s breathing was still for a few seconds, keeping his eyes glued on the ceiling as he held her on your marital bed. “You’re scared that the infamous cheater is gonna cheat on you or something?” he joked, a distasteful one, but still meant to ease whatever was burdening her mind. “Not gonna happen even if we’re in an open relationship.” 

“That’s not it,” Akemi quickly replied, denying his claims, “I’m more like hoping that you’ll be patient with her. She gets angry a lot these days and we know we’re the main cause of it, so please. Please don’t try to argue with her, okay? If she says hurtful things, learn to understand her.” 

He wrapped his arms tighter around her smaller frame. Gojou was certain that he was about to doze off soon now that he had closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him into a good night’s sleep. “I won’t,” he spoke his words slowly, drifting off to dreamland, “I won’t make her angry.” 

“Okay.” He felt her lips kissing his jaw just before the both of them gradually matched the calmness of each other’s chest. One heart, one soul, two bodies.  “Good night, ‘Toru.” 

…

…

…

In the middle of his sleep, he mumbled, “Good night, Y/N.”

On the other side of the city, you woke up in the middle of your slumber, facing the handsome face of your fiancé, Toji Zen’in, who had already drifted off to dreamland while holding you in his muscular arms. No wonder people were jealous of you for having such a refined man like him in your bed every night you go to sleep. The thing was, you had no reason to feel discontented with your life since you already had everything. You were wealthier than the average person, you ran a business that you were passionate about, you had an adorable son who meant the world to you, and you had Toji. There was nothing else you could ask for. And if by remembering Sera’s words back then, you would be selfish to ask for anything more because others didn’t even have half the fortune you had. 

So, in that sense, you should be happy. 

You had to be happy. 

You were happy, right? 

“Go to sleep,” whispered a half-awake Toji, stirring from his sleep as he held your waist tighter like you were his comfort pillow. “You alright?” 

Sighing inwardly, you traced the scar on his lips. “You’re so gorgeous.”

His lazy, boyish smile came into view. “I know that,” he joked, closing his eyes as if succumbing into a few more minutes of sleep. “Don’t tell me you’re turned on right now ‘cause I can go all night. Doggy. Missionary. Cowboy. Reverse cowboy.” 

Were you? Maybe a little. And maybe you had to have a distraction from your ‘source of happiness’. 

“That’s very naughty of you, Mr. Zen’in,” you replied, cheeks heating up from his vulgar words. Your hand was finding its way to his toned chest, while his were traveling to the curves of your waist and hips. You could feel him angling his body to make sure he had access to slide your underwear just a little above your knee, gliding his hand along your thigh before letting his fingers touch your sensitive bud. “T-Toji—”

A smirk appeared on his lips. “Hm? I thought you wanted this?” 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Y-Yeah, I…” There was no use holding back from moaning because his fingers knew how to move perfectly well, playing with your clit in circular motions before sliding two of them into your entrance. “...Fuck.”

“Feel good?” His hot breath tickled your neck, moving his mouth from your collarbones down to the valley between your breasts. “Wish you knew how delicious you are.” 

Another moan, much louder this time around, escaped your lips when he attached his mouth onto your breast, sucking the round mass with his tongue doing God’s work. You were so high into sexual desire that your back arched on its own, dominated by the pleasing sensation all over your body. You could barely even respond to him when he started asking why your mood had been so down when he picked you up after work or why you still wouldn’t tell him whatever happened back there. 

“It’s nothing,” you replied, disregarding the painful encounter you’ve had with your ex-husband and your best friend. “...Just work stuff.” 

As you closed your eyes, you could feel Satoru’s fingers entering deep inside of you, deep enough to have reached your g-spot and have you moaning wildly. It felt unreal. It felt goddamn out of this world. But since Satoru was familiar with every inch of your body, his touch alone could easily send you to seventh heaven. He was heavenly. He was saintly. That mesmerizing gaze of his paired with his sky blue eyes and messy white hair. His beautiful, beautiful face, watching you beg for him to do more. More. More…

“Satoru…��

The intense feeling suddenly stopped, awakening you back to your senses as you opened your eyes and saw the dark, animalistic gaze of Toji Zen’in. “What’d you say?” he asked in a deep voice. 

Out of panic, you slightly pulled away and shook your head. “N-Nothing. What did I say?”

“I thought I heard you say his…” he trailed off, pulling his fingers out of you and instead, placing a tight grip on your hip. “Did you?” 

“No, no. Not at all.” Your voice came in a hushed tone, looking at his eyes intently. “Why would I do that?” 

He let out an exasperated sigh, falling back into the bed with one arm under his head. “Don’t play games with me, Y/N.”

Desperation led you to climb on top of him, sitting on his crotch before encasing your lips with his soft ones. “I’m not,” you mumbled, kissing him again. “I never did. I promise.” 

Yet, despite your attempts at inviting him for an open-mouthed kiss, he had already lost the interest to engage in sexual activities with you. He didn’t say anything nor tried to argue about the shit that you said, but he did stay silent for a couple of minutes, simply holding you on top of him without another word to utter. It scared you to think what was going through Toji’s mind, but this was also all your fault. Why, in the first place, did you even let your mind imagine that white-haired toxic ex-husband of yours when you had Toji Zen’in in front you? 

Perhaps in this relationship, you were the toxic one. 

You were the poison that could kill the life out of the man who only wanted to love and heal you. 

“Toji, I’m sorry…” 

He held his breath. “Should I be concerned that you’re going on a trip with him?” 

“No, it’s…” Pulling away, you gave him a look of combined sincerity and denial. “We’re just gonna fix Sachiro’s papers, you know that. We won’t even be staying in the same room.” 

Fixing Sachiro’s papers. Dealing with his dual citizenship. Changing his last name to Gojou. Solidifying your son’s identity as the son of Satoru Gojou. That’s all there is to it. All the technical matters. 

“Is he staying at a hotel or are you letting him stay at your apartment in Manhattan?” he asked, although there was no hint of suspicion in his voice. Or at least, he must be good at hiding it. 

You chose to be honest. “I have to let him stay at my apartment,” was your answer, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Only because Sachi wants his dad around all the time. We’re just trying our best to co-parent.” 

Toji’s dry humor took over. “You sure you’re not gonna let him fuck you senseless?” His tone was laced with resentment. “And then you’ll come home to me crying about how he got you pregnant for the second time. You’d better kiss our marriage goodbye if that happens.” 

“What kind of person do you think I am?” you retorted, annoyed by his word of choice as if you were a cheating scumbag. “If he’s gonna get someone pregnant, that won’t be me.” 

His eyes sparked with curiosity. “What do you mean?” 

Deciding between telling and not telling, you figured that the latter would only cause more drama to bounce back at you like a boomerang. “He’s with Akemi.” 

It looked like Toji didn’t hear it right. “Akemi? How’d that happen?” 

“I don’t know what kinda relationship they have, okay?” you snapped, no longer wanting to keep up with this topic further. “I just caught them. They said they’re seeing each other, but it’s complicated or whatever—I don’t really give a damn. But he’s with her is all I know.” 

Toji went silent for a few minutes, unable to determine whether he should find the situation pitiful or humorous. One thing for sure though, was that he found it unbelievable. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, smiling in disbelief, “So this is what’s ruining your mood these days, huh?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in response. “It’s not.” 

“Your ex-husband slept with your best friend. Yeah, I’d be mad, too.” His comment wasn’t really meant to irk you, but he successfully did so. Minus the intention. “Getting mad is understandable, getting jealous is questionable. Which one are you?” 

Fuck it. “I said I’m not jealous. Will you stop now?” You sunk yourself under the covers, turning your back on Toji. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Now that he knew and you saw his reaction, you wondered what it would be like if Gen and Ian knew. Or if your dad knew. What would they think of Satoru? What would they think of Akemi? No, nevermind that. What would they think of you? Another fool in a deck of cards? Another game that was played with? 

You didn’t want to know. 

Ideally, you and Satoru really shouldn’t have gone to this New York trip together as if your family was still intact, because as much as you wished that that was true, you were far from that. You were only playing house for the sake of your son, but that also meant putting you in a painfully awkward situation together as ex-spouses. He had a girlfriend back home and you had a loving and loyal fiancé who proved the whole word that he was loyal to you. And although your respective partners were supporting the whole co-parenting situation, you knew by yourselves that this was nowhere to near to being comfortable for them, too. 

“Everything okay?” You heard the familiar voice of your past, only to see his dull, blue eyes taking a peek at you. 

“Yeah,” you replied, almost inaudibly. You just boarded the plane while Satoru was talking to the pilot, and found your spot on one of the beds in his private jet. It took a few minutes for him to get to where you were now. “Why?” 

He shrugged, eyeing a sleepy Sachiro next to you. “Just wanna make sure you and Sachi are comfortable.” 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you just looked back at your peaceful son who was hugging his elmo plush like the cute angel he was. Even though he was growing so fast, you could still remember how he was just as small as a puppy in your arms when he was first born. The memory of it caused you to press your lips on his forehead, caressing his soft, white hair. At some point while observing the scene, your son’s father thought it would be a good idea to slide the blanket further up your shoulders, acting as though he was only doing it to keep Sachiro warm. And later, he sat on the reclined airplane seat, drinking the coffee that was served to him by the stewardess. 

It was crazy. 

Crazy that Toji could be lying next to you and you would feel nothing. But Gojou was meters away from you and your mind was on a never-ending race. 

Just before noon, the airplane landed safely at JFK airport and Satoru’s driver took you straight to Central Park Towers, treated like a V.I.P. by security just because your ex-husband was Japan’s third richest person and second most influential businessman. At times like these, you would almost forget the power Satoru held even before he was the chairman. You two were almost royalty. Now that he was leading the Gojou Group, his reputation only grew more despite the scandal of your broken marriage. He knew not to share his relationship publicly anymore nor did he expose Sachiro to any of his social media. It was a mutual decision for you to keep your son away from the spotlight knowing the scrutiny and the lack of privacy that would enter your lives once again—all the unnecessary noise, the unwanted comments, the unruly attention. Besides, for safety reasons, Sachiro had to be hidden from the public since he would become the sole heir to his father’s conglomerate, inheriting his parents combined assets that could one day make him the richest and most sought after bachelor in Japan. 

“Mamaaa!” A lively Sachi came running to you as soon as he entered the lobby of the apartment suites, his father following him behind. 

“Careful, baby!” you said, standing at the lobby while talking to your housekeeper, “You might trip.” 

Satoru decided to carry his son after noticing your worried expression and immediately walked towards you. He was all smiles as he looked at Sachiro’s cheerful blue eyes. “He seems a little excited, isn’t he?” 

“He lived here for almost three years,” you answered, signaling a quick ‘thank you’ to your housekeeper before guiding your boys to the elevator. “He must’ve missed the place. Did you, Sachi?”

“Yes, mama~”

It was a little bittersweet for your ex-husband, though. Especially the moment he stepped inside the apartment, looking at every corner and realizing that it was the same place you had lived in back when he was suffering from emotional distress on the other side of the world. This apartment was where his own child grew up in and he had no idea he had even existen then. Not only did that make you a terrible ex-wife, but it also made you a heartless mother. You had separated them and now you were taking him to the place where you had his son hidden from him. 

That wasn’t your intention. That was never your intention. 

“I’m glad you chose a nice place,” he complimented, acting as casual as possible. “Does your father own this place or?”

“Gen loaned it to me,” you said, holding Sachiro’s hand while letting Satoru follow you closely. You stopped at one of the guest rooms and urged the tall man to feel at home. “You can stay here for the meantime.” 

“I don’t wanna make things uncomfortable for Akemi.” He looked away, avoiding your eyes. “I can just stay at a hotel—” 

“Dada!” His mini-me tugged at his hand along with yours. You already knew that those puppy eyes would look back at the both of you. “Sachi wants Dada to stay.”

Frankly, you weren’t upset a while ago, but since he had to bring up Akemi and make it seem like her feelings were his priority, you lost all the will to be kind. Was their relationship that deep for him to act like such a loyal, righteous partner? Where was that same loyalty when he married you? “Do whatever.” 

Noticing the tension between his parents, Sachiro’s eyes started to well up with tears and that was all it took for you two to completely focus your attention back to your 3-year old. 

“Sachi…” Satoru tried to reach for his son, but you (spitefully) beat him to it. 

“It’s okay, my baby. Don’t cry,” you comforted your son, picking him up and carrying him in your arms, “Daddy will still visit you every day even if he's staying at a hotel.” 

Satoru, as guilty as ever, shook his head and wiped his son’s eyes. “No. I’ll stay here for Sachi, okay? Don’t cry anymore.” 

It felt like hours sitting on that enormous sofa, staring at the television screen even though your mind was miles away. You had already texted Toji good night and reassured him that everything was fine, but you still couldn’t stop thinking about what he was doing back home. Sachiro had fallen asleep almost half an hour ago, and how you wished you could also enjoy your slumber while snuggling under those heated blankets, but how could you? How could you be comfortable in the presence of an ex-husband who was coming out of his room, freshly showered in his low-waisted sweatpants and tight-fitting black shirt? Not to mention how he was obviously flexing his arms while drying his mop of messy, white hair with a towel. Ridiculous. A little seductive, but definitely ridiculous. 

“Still up?” His sky blue eyes met yours as soon as he looked up. 

You adjusted your position on the sofa and leaned on the corner, pulling a small cushion to place above your thighs. “Can’t sleep.” 

And the night went on just like that. You, sitting on the couch. Him, sitting on the other end as if going near you might suffocate him. It didn’t help that the silence was beginning to be too uncomfortable. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking of. Perhaps Akemi? Perhaps you? You doubted the latter. 

“I think…” You cleared your throat to escape from the awkward tension. “I think I’m gonna go for a night swim. You can go to sleep next to Sachi tonight, just make sure not to wake him up.” 

Satoru’s curious gaze trailed on you as you got up and tightened your robe. “It’s a little too late at night to go for a swim, no?” 

You couldn’t even face him as you responded. “I need to clear my mind off some things.” And by things, you meant him and this whole mess of a situation that you had put yourselves together. Two divorcees staying in the same living space wasn’t exactly a brilliant idea to begin with.

“Want me to join you?” asked Satoru, and he himself could not believe he asked that question. He may have asked it out of his innate care for you, probably worried for no damn reason. What he didn’t realize was how wrong his suggestion was, especially that you two were dating other people now. 

If only you were such a cruel person, how ironic would it be if you allowed Satoru Gojou to join you for a quick night swim? 

How ironic would it be for you to feel each other’s warmth under the crystal pool, getting carried away by the romantic lights that lit the city? 

How ironic would it be if the intense sexual tension ended with you doing things under the sheets, completely disregarding the fact that the both of you had respective partners who were overthinking this exact NYC trip?

How ironic would it be if, for once in your life, you became the cheater? 

Thankfully, you didn’t have the mindset of a cheating person. 

However, it was Satoru who took back his initial offer. “Never mind. Forget I even asked that,” he muttered, sounding annoyed more so to himself rather than at you. 

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.” 

And as you were heading to the poolside, you could sense Gojou’s presence behind even though he just very clearly rejected the idea of going on a swim with you. He was still the same confusing man that you married before. Only now, he was ten times worse. “Wait, Y/N.”

“What?” You turned around, annoyed at his push-and-pull behavior. At this point, you didn’t really care what he was thinking of anymore. All you did was to take off your robe, leaving yourself with only your underwear on before you slowly got down on the pool. 

Gojou, on the other hand, was ridding himself of his shirt and sweatpants to join you in the pool with just his boxers on. What even was this situation? You two had that same question in your head despite swimming at the edge of the pool to stare at the cityscape. “I only asked to join you because I wanted to talk. That’s all.” 

You wanted to laugh at how he was clearing his intentions to you. 

“Why do you sound defensive around me?” He couldn’t see it, but you were rolling your eyes as you leaned against the pool coping. “I never knew Akemi would be the jealous type.” 

Satoru looked surprised by your claim, seeming as though he didn’t recognize the kind of person you were anymore. You were never this unreasonably sarcastic nor acidic with your words during your marriage even at the height of his affair with Sera, yet you had just become the worst version of yourself. “She isn’t,” he muttered, finding his spot next to you, “But I don’t wanna give her a reason to be.” 

You huffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You make it sound like I’m gonna make a move on you or something.” 

“I never said that.” 

“You were thinking about it.” 

“Says who?” 

What is it about Satoru Gojou that makes him so irritating? Was it the way he talks? The way he thinks he’s always right? The way he acts like he’s such a clean person? 

“Please,” you retorted, bitterly. “Toji isn’t comfortable having you around me, either. Just so you know.” 

“Can we just—” There. His last string of patience finally snapped and his true colors came to show when he grabbed your wrist and made you face him. The spiteful Satoru. He was back, even just for a second. “Y/N, I’m not trying to argue with you here. I’m trying to talk to you like a civilized person. You’re the mother of my child and I respect you. I’d still care for you and will always protect you, but I want you to at least act like a fucking person around me. You’re a grown woman.” 

Wasn’t it bad that he, of all people, was basically telling you to grow up? Memories of your marriage and all the back-and-forth arguments that you had with him flashed before your eyes. He should be the last one to say such a thing. “You’re the one who’s been crossing the fucking line with me since day one, Gojou. Don’t tell me to—”

“And do you wish I had just killed myself for you to forgive me?!” The ridges of his neck became prominent, making his anger much visible now. He was staring down at you intensely, backing you against the edge of the pool, trapping you in between his arms. “I’d have probably done that. But you…You did unforgivable things to me and look how easy it was for me to forgive you.” 

You looked away, not trying to have this conversation again. Not trying to have your guilt eat your heart out. Maybe your behavior really had become too much and it was about time you take a step back and realize how ridiculous you had been acting because no way was this man trying to make a better point than you. 

“I slept with Akemi, I know. She’s your best friend, I fucking know. But I never did that to get back at you,” his voice bore so much authority in them. “I begged on my knees just to be with you again. Swallowed my pride just for you to be my wife again!” His breathing became ragged. “But you chose to move on. You said you love Toji. You said you’d be happier without me, so why don’t I deserve to be happy without you?” 

The inability to speak wasn’t because you were at a loss of words. The problem was choosing the right ones. Words that wouldn’t put you in a disadvantageous position. Words that wouldn’t make you look like an unreasonable person. 

“You wished me well when you first found out about Akemi and I. You said you don’t care who I choose to date even if that choice is her,” he said, much calmer this time. He was placing his forehead against yours, body pressed against each other. “If that was true, then why are you still so angry with me?” 

Your heart raced as you locked eyes with him. His eyes were the same kind of blue that reflected off of the surface of the pool. Anyone could easily get lost in it, but you knew where to place yourself in order not to. “I’m… not angry…” 

“Baby, you and I both know that’s not true,” he said with a serious gaze, lifting your chin with his hand. 

But you swatted it away, averting your eyes. “Don’t call me baby. You’re being ridiculous.” 

With a loud sigh, Gojou gave up and simply placed his forehead on your shoulder, letting you feel the weight of his head and the warmth of his breath. “If you were still my wife, I’d have kissed you right now,” he declared, breathing heavily as if stopping with all of his will to do what he just said. “I’d touch every inch of you, tell you how much I love you, carry you back into that room, and make more beautiful babies with you…” 

“Satoru,” you warned just as he pulled away, smiling despite the sorrow in his eyes. 

“…But I won’t do that. I’m not gonna do that,” he claimed and sounded like he was convincing himself rather than clearing it up. “Akemi doesn’t deserve a partner who can’t move on from his ex-wife, so I’m doing my best to forget about you.” 

Your breathing took a halt. You weren’t sure where those tiny pricks in your heart came from. Toji needed the same. He deserved a wife who wasn’t pining for her ex-husband. Satoru was just being true. 

“Then, forget about me,” you gave a barely audible reply. 

Gojou pulled away and kept his distance now, showing that he was indeed trying to stick to his words. “I will.” 

Why did it hurt when it shouldn’t have? 

“Good.” 

He looked at you with eyes that carried a million emotions. But what was most visible was him seeing the light, probably realizing that he truly was doing the right thing and that he was proud of himself for being able to resist you. Because then, that only meant he was only a few steps away from the path of moving on. That if he could let you go, then he could live a better life. 

It only made sense why he pulled that little stunt back there—being close enough to you was probably his way of differentiating how his body reacted to you versus how it reacted to Akemi. And now that he was able to determine whatever difference that might be, it would be easier for him to know what exactly to avoid. 

After all, you two would be spending the rest of your lives as a present mom and dad to Sachiro. Co-parenting was your only connection and the only way to make that work without falling for each other was to rid yourselves of any kind of attraction towards one another. 

Good for him. 

“Let’s be good parents, Y/N.” Satoru looked at you from across the pool. “Let’s set a good example for Sachi and show that divorced parents can still be good parents. Let’s not be toxic to each other, especially not in front of him.” His words were coming from his personal experience and as you knew the whole history behind the mess within his family, you were truthfully considerate of his words. His traumatic experiences were what shaped him to become the problematic man you once married, and he was doing his best not to let his own son be the same. “I’ll provide Sachiro with everything he needs and I’ll always be present in his life, so please let me have as much time with him as possible. I’m making up for the three years I lost with him.” 

You nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that. 

As the established relationship you had with Gojou became more professional and strictly transactional, the distance between you two also grew more and more. There was no longer any space for love and intimacy. There was only familiarity and acquaintanceship. 

“Go to sleep soon,” he said without sending another glance your way, climbing out of the pool and reaching for his clothes, “We have a long day tomorrow.” 

[tokiloki]

DEVOTION- Argenti

Character (s) : Argenti (Honkai Star Rail)

Tags: Knight x Princess AU, reader is not trailblazer, implied fem.

Description: Argenti was thorough in his duties, and in his devotion to you.

Words: 2200

Warning; Maybe a bit ooc and self indulgent.

Sugary sweetness slid down your throat after you popped a small, iced delicacy into your eager mouth- the roll of flavour offering a momentary relief from the dizzying and tiring ball.

But alas, all good things must come to an end- as the sudden voice behind you signified.

“My Lady, that is your fifth cake bite of the night” Argenti’s voice bordered on exasperation and amusement at once, his attentive remarks making your heart flush despite their promises of reprimand.

You turned to face him with a pleasant smile

“My dear knight, are you not eager to let me out of your sight for a mere second- so that you may enjoy the festivities of this ball?” This was the same thing you suggested some minutes ago when he found you watching the flame swallowing performers a tad bit too closely.

Argenti sighed briefly and bowed his head

“My lady, an event flourishing with activity and seas of bodies is also the best opportunity for danger” he explained before gesturing forward.

“A number of…interested nobility are actively searching for you,” his hand was vaguely in the direction of a number of gentlemen.

“Let them keep searching,” you muttered. Between the too bright lights and the echoing, drowning sound of heels and boots, laughter and conversation- tiredness cleaved at your bones, and a few gentlemen were not the remedy to that tiredness.

Argenti looked down at you quietly for a moment before lifting his head up to observe the ballroom. He too, was being eyed by several attendees as his red hair, paired with his ethereal visage simply summoned onlookers. You made a movement to walk towards the open doors, hoping that the fresh air outside would bring a cooling relaxation.

Argenti, of course followed.

“I am not going to leap off the stairs, dear knight” You chuckled as he stopped behind while you leaned over a white balcony railing.

“No my lady- you are aware I would not support that decision” he smiled, amusement teasing his voice.

“But I am your knight, and thus I must remain close to you,” he reasoned.

“Ever so thorough in your duty”you chuckled, gazing up at the flickering stars above.

“Duty, yes- and in my devotion to you” he added- the words seemingly harmless had they not caused your stomach to flutter again. You hummed, playing off your internal turmoil as you wrapped your satin shawl around your shoulders when a cold breeze brushed by.

Immediately, two heavy gauntlets fixed your shawl properly around your body, Argenti’s hands quick and easy even in their armour.His breath ghosted over the back of your neck as he ensured you would not be excessively exposed to the cold, but the motion caused your neck to stiffen and goosebumps to rise.

“Perhaps you should return inside, Your Grace” he suggested before pulling away “You may fall ill due to this cold weather” His reasoning was sound but…returning to the loud ball was not an agreeable notion to you.

You expected the scent of a grassy floor coupled with the  pain of a smashed nose- but instead, a pair of arms easily scooped you up and cradled you close before you could meet an unfortunate fall. A flush was already forming on your cheeks as you looked up at Argenti, who’s breath was coming out in quick puffs, his red hair slightly dishevelled while he held you against his armoured chest.

Your gown twirled as you turned to face him, taking a step forward in your tight heels.

“Just- a few moments Argenti” you breathed, his name falling easily from your lips as you stood close together in the balcony. You hardly recognized why you moved closer to him- you could easily take the other side of the stairs to the gardens below.

“As you wish- My Lady?” Argenti’s voice was in worry as he noted a slight twinge in your step, green eyes trailing over your figure before he extended a hand warily.

“Huh- oh, nothing” You laughed, assuring him that nothing was wrong- even though your ankles screeched otherwise. “ it is nothing-ah!” 

You attempted to take a step down the balcony stairs that extended to the garden, but a  heeled foot twisted as you descended down the stairs, making your heart plunge as you  tipped forward into airy horror. 

“My Lady! Do not cause such senseless worry!” he breathed before descending down the stairs hurriedly.

“Are you alright? I specifically asked your maids to not allow you to wear unfitting heels” he sighed while cradling you close- he was breathing heavily and his eyes were widened with worry.

“It’s alright- just a throb” you told him, brows furrowed as you winced when a weaker throb of pain pulsed in your foot, making him hold you closer.

Suddenly the heels felt far too tight and Argenti’s cold, armoured hands were freezing against your bare arms. His gaze softened when he noticed this shiver before he carried you bridal style towards a smaller entry of the palace.

Subconsciously, you held on tighter to him- a habit you had when you were injured as his familiar grip and scent carried the promise that you would be alright. You turned your face over to the armour he wore, even if this was all an over exaggeration of the pain.

“It’s not a serious injury, Argenti” you told him “there is no need to go to a physician- just sit me down on a bench.” 

Argenti began to emphasise that your injury was no light matter but you cut him off

“Please- I can’t bear to have any more fuss around me today.” you breathed so pleadingly that he blew out a long breath and nodded before gently lowering you into a garden bench seat that was hidden from view by the towering flower bushes.

A small pain shot up from your ankle again as Argenti knelt down on the grass, his brows drawn together and his eyes focused as he gazed up at you- it was also an overreaction on his part, but you supposed it meant he cared.

With surprising gentleness, Argenti lifted your skirts and slowly lifted your ankle up, never handling the skin too harshly.

Despite the sensible reason for his action, you found yourself blushing as Argenti focused entirely on your ankle.  He loosened the bands and clasp of your heels that wrapped around your ankle before tugging them off to bare your foot to the cool breeze. 

“Does it hurt if I do-” he pressed a finger against your ankle, but there was no pain “this?”. He gazed up at you intently, apple green eyes searching yours for any pain- but all they found was an unusual flush across your cheeks.

“No-no Argenti, it does not hurt” you swallowed and avoided thinking about why he was looking up at you so closely. “Perhaps it was just a minor twist, nothing to worry about.”

Of course Argenti would be so direct.

Argenti hummed in acknowledgement before lifting your ankle to his lips. His crimson hair brushed against the skin before his lips pressed to your ankle ever so gently before gazing back up at you. At this stage, your heart wasn’t just beating fast- it was a galloping horse or a cage of butterflies.

“My Lady…you seem to be embarrassed” he murmured, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

That was a very good twist of words, and a wonderful, brazen lie. But it passed the silent understanding between the two of you- under the pretence of ‘care’ and devotion, Argenti would sometimes hug you, hold you close,  and press his lips to an injury now.

“Embarrassed? No my dear knight- it’s just the cool air” you smiled falteringly. 

“I know you too well to know that a flush, accompanied by a widening of your eyes is not the result of a shiver” .His words backed you into a corner, much like his precise eyes.

“Ah…is my lady perhaps embarrassed because I kissed her ankle? It is only a comforting touch” he smiled and repeated the gesture again.

“Yes- yes I am- that is not something you do usually..” you breathed, causing Argenti to tilt his head.

“Have I not been clear in my affections, Your Grace?” he wondered aloud with amusement before slipping your heel back on. “Do not fret, I am not doing something untoward, I am merely showing my care to the princess.”

“You are a distinguished liar” you smile, leading him to match your expression, lips curled up as he presses boundaries further by taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Do you doubt my devotion to you, My Lady?” He kissed your knuckles again

“I believe there is a personal motive, disguised as devotion that lurks in your actions”. 

A hushed silence fell between the both of you after you spoke, and Argenti looked up at you with a faltering expression.

“Would you prefer it otherwise?” he questioned. Would you? Would you be as comfortable with him if he was strictly your knight, and not Argenti?

“...No.” 

Argenti smiled and kissed your hand again

“Then I believe we are in understanding”

Argenti moved up to sit beside you on the bench, turning his face to whisper in your ear

“Would my Lady allow me to continue displaying my devotion?” His words were honeyed and sweeter than any delicacy, raising a shiver in your body as he spoke.

“You know I do not like to speak in riddles,” you turned to look at him as well. 

Argenti’s eyes lowered to your lips, his gauntlet covered  hand holding yours before he spoke again;

“Then would my Lady allow me to display a show of treason? To act on my most…closeted and ardent desires that have been most arduous to restrain?”

How could anyone refuse him? Your throat tightened and your heart nearly stopped as you searched for any amusement in his eyes, but there was nothing but the expression he wore in serious times.

Even the night air stilled around the two of you, and it almost seemed like the flower bushes were leaning closer.

“I.. I allow you.” There. You stamped his treasonous request with approval, moments before he cupped your jaw and kissed your cheek.

“For so long, I have guarded you with nothing but pure devotion,” he whispered against your cheek before kissing your forehead. “But one can only withstand so much in the face of your beauty”

“You…exaggerate” Your voice came out breathy as your free hand dug into the bench you sat on.

“It is impossible to exaggerate your beauty, but describing it with this unpracticed tongue is a disservice as well”

A shiver trailed down your spine and you swallowed as he kissed the bridge of your nose and your hairline.

“May I?” he breathed, the cool air and the heat of his breath turning you into a puddle of nerves as you spoke; “Yes.” 

Argenti wasted no time, angling your jaw so that your lips met his sweet kiss, his free hand securing the small of your back while he kissed you. The two of you shifted on the bench and he held you closely, gently lowering you into his embrace. Every fluttery sensation you felt in the past exploded into a million stars, splashing across your heart as he embraced you so firmly and gently at once when he pulled away.

“I fail…I fail to describe you, My lady- My princess, the object of my yearn and passion” he whispered before kissing you again, closing his eyes and breathing in your sweet scent.

The night breeze turned into a feather caress against your body and you were certain no sweet or bliss in the world could compare to the fulfilment you felt as Argenti embraced you with his flowery kiss. 

This was, on one hand a horrific image of treason and shame, a princess and her knight engaging in unrestrained yet improperly guided affection- but on the other hand, it was the sweetest bliss to be held in the arms of a lover beneath a canvas of stars, curtained with roses and flowers on either side. Your heart sang it’s desire strongly in the face of worry- for now, it was best to hold Argenti close- the world could wait a few moments or so, and even if it couldn’t- the sweetness you felt was a wonderful momentary bliss that you couldn’t abandon just yet.

AN: I have not written a fic in like...years.

Reblogs appreciated! <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm moving tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The tension turns roiling. Even in such airy halls, you cannot escape it, not that you venture very far from your rooms. It seems with each interaction, your relationship with your fiance only grows more fraught. You needn’t wonder why. It’s the very same reason your own father regards you with derision. You’re defective, less than what he hoped for. 

You sit in the window seat, looking over the greenery that reflects Jade Garden’s title. It’s a home anyone would covet and yet it feels as a penitentiary might. These walls are unyielding and the isolation suffocating. 

Your visions drifts into the distance as the leaves turn to green smears blending into the dimming blue of the sky. You close your eyes and turn your head straight, leaning against the wall as you hook your arms around your legs. 

A banquet. It’s less than a proper debut. You’re not certain anyone would be expecting you, or even know who you are. Will they be surprised when they hear your father’s name?  

There are things you know. Things you must ready yourself for. Certainly, there will be jeers, mocking whispers, and errant giggles. Just the same as anyone ever reacted to you. Even the farmhands would echo your speech and laugh bawdily. It hardly matter’s your a lord’s daughter when you sound so ridiculous. 

You hang your head and sigh. It isn’t just one banquet, it is the beginning of a lifetime of events. You will not only face this one night, but many anon. You will be the one they speak of behind their hands and the joke at the card tables. 

You stand, made restless by your dread. The window darkens with the evening’s arrival. Doreen raps at the door and leaves a tray of supper. You pick at it but don’t eat much. You must keep yourself busy so your mind is not. 

You go to your chests. You will need Doreen to unpack these soon. It’s as if the longer you leave them full, the less assured your fate. You might still strap them up and flee. 

You know that isn’t truly an option. 

You take out a gown the shade of cooked pumpkin with an overlay that lends it a bronzish hue. The bodice is trimmed with an eyelet effect and the hem of the cap sleeves and skirt finely threaded with beads. You lay it out on the chaise and find a pair of slippers to go with it and ribbon for your hair decorated with black onyx and brass. 

If Edith could see you then. It should be her in your place. That thought rings louder and louder, bolstered by the constant disapproval. 

You back away from your attire, spinning so you won’t have to look upon it. You never thought to miss home so much. Not your parents, you’re certain they hardly grieve your absence, but for the familiarity, for the simple walls and memories. Edith is there, even gone, you know you would see her in every cushion and every corner. 

You go to the door and listen. As silent as ever. You emerge into the corridor and make careful progress on the pads of your feet. You come to the top of the stairwell and peer down on the foyer. For all it’s beauty, this place is rather grim. 

You descend and let your eyes lead you. You take in every ornament, every statue, every door trim, and every tile of the floor. You want to know it all. You don’t want to feel so lost. 

You find your way along to the sunroom. Upon your approach, the door opens and you falter. A lithe figure emerges. You press yourself to the wall, unready for Loki’s appearance. He has a snifter of liquor in hand as he glowers in the light of a lantern in his other.  

He steps towards you and pauses, lifting the light higher to cast over you. His breath escapes him derisively. He lowers the lantern and sniffs. 

“Like a rat, you skitter incessantly,” he remarks. 

“My Lawd,” you push away from the wall and angle away from him. 

“I am speaking to you. Do not go until I give leave to,” he demands. 

You stop and face him again, hands meeting in apprehension. 

“This banquet business,” his nostrils flare, “I will not be humiliated. Not as you have tonight.” 

“My Lawd, I have been twained in etiq—etiqwette,” you insist. 

He scoffs, “your manners hardly bother me. Certainly you might have some grain of awareness.” 

You seal your lips. He’s said it plainly, as you have. He might be able to close his ears to your impediment but it is with you always. 

“Perhaps you might keep your words to a minimum,” he advises, “select them wisely.” 

You stare at him, cheeks fiery and eyes tinging, “If you would wather, I might make an excuse. A sudden malady, my lawd. I’d hate to stain your chawacter.” 

His eyes roll to the side and his features sharpen, “more would be said were I to appear without my betrothed after my mother’s promises.” 

That he has referred to your nuptials is not so nice as it should be. He speaks to it as a sentence. You look him in the face. 

“It won’t eva go away,” you say. 

“Hm, I only need get through the wedding night,” he retorts and you can’t help but wince. 

You swallow, your hurt turning bitter. “As do I.” 

His head tilts and he squints. He lets out another snort, “pardon?” 

“My sista would’ve hated you,” you whisper. “You did not desawve to know haw.” 

“Be wary,” he steps closer. 

“You make an enemy of me, not I you,” you lift your chin.  

He’s silent. He shifts even closer. So near, you have to keep from wilting away. You stare back at him defiantly, heart beating. 

“You do not know yet what it is to have me as an enemy so you best mind your mannaws,” he mocks your cadence with his last word. 

Your lip trembles as he green eyes sparkle like dark emeralds in the lantern lights. Your chest is a flurry of hurt and anger. What have you ever done to him, or anyone, to make them so spiteful? You swing your arm against his to knock the snifter from his hand, sending a splash of alcohol across the wall and and his vest. The smell is acrid and sour. 

You back away from him, horrified at your reaction. You have learned to restrain yourself, to tamp it all down, to swallow it with a smile and say nothing. In that moment, you simply cannot. You shake your head as your face twists in despair. 

“I would wather an enemy, saw,” you hiss, “as I would be ashamed to call a cad like you husband.” 

His glare flashes and he sways as if he might lunge at you. He rights himself and his brow arches. His lips draw and his cheeks pale. 

“Very well.” 

He spins on his heel and stomps away, the light limning his silhouette sinisterly. You stare after him mortified. What has come over you? You were never bold or brazen or brutal to any. Edith would be disappointed. A gentle soul like her could never even think a hot word. 

You fall back against the wall and clutch your hands over your chest. Is this to be your life? Are you to live in loathing, not only of that man but of yourself. To be castigated for the lilt of your own tongue, the very pulse of your existence? You’d thought your father a villain but this man has proven himself worse. 

Worst than his distaste is your own futility, for he has assured you there is nothing you might do to appease him. As he is bound to you most miserably, so are you vowed to the same fate. Not even in that might you commiserate. 

🔹

You sit in front of the mirror, holding the brooch over the table, feeling the embroidery with the pad of your thumb. You turn it over and back again. It’s the only piece of your sister you have left. Every day she feels further away from you. Every morning, you awake, expecting to hear her, to see her, and she is not there, and you are not at home. 

You peer up at your reflection as your hand hovers over the painted wood. You’ve not touched a tress or cheek. You must ready, you know it, but your reticence is like chains on your wrists. You know what you are to face but knowing cannot make it any less unpleasant. 

A knock comes at the door. You call for the maid to enter, thinking Doreen’s come to remind you again of your pending engagement. The maid opens the door but says nothing, letting in the duchess instead. Lady Frigga is almost rapturous in a dressing gown of peach fabric as her hair is set already in tight curls around an elegant chignon. You stand, apologising for your misstep. 

“Dear, it is quite forgivable,” she assures, “I only meant to look in on you before the banquet, to be certain you do not require anything, but darling, oh,” she sweeps towards you and cups your cheeks, “you’ve not even begun. What is the matter?” 

“There is no issue,” you lie, “I mewely let time escape me.” 

You smile and gently pull away, turning back to the vanity. You open your hand and once more consider the pin. 

“Is this the dress you mean to wear?” Frigga asks as she crosses the room in a swish of silk. You peer over your shoulder as she looks down on the orange fabric. “It is a rather keen shade.” 

“Yes, my lady,” you answer in a dulcet tone. You cannot find a glimmer of concern for your attire. 

She sighs and returns to you, holding the ribbon you’ve chosen, “these are far too dour,” she touches an onyx, “haven’t you some pearls?” 

“Somewhaw...” You bend your neck, staring at the bluebird, at Edith’s handiwork. You remember the day she gave it to you and the way she smiled so proudly. How she pinned it on you herself and made you go around and show all. 

“Oh, dear, that won’t go at all. It would be nice for a lunch, no doubt, but not for a banquet,” she remarks and you close your hand around the brooch. You put your shoulders straight and face her. 

“I have a pawl band in my chest,” you resign and step around her. 

You go to the chest and sift around, careful not to let the brooch slip from your grasp. You take out the pearls on the ivory band and show it to her. She tuts. 

“It won’t go with this gown,” she insists. 

“Yes, the onyx--” 

“Mmp, I prefer pearls. Darling, you must be your best. It is your first social appearance. I do not say this to demean you, only to assist. I know your own mother cannot be here to see you debut but I cannot imagine her pain at this moment. So much loss. Both daughters at once, in a way,” she bemoans. 

Yes, you think of your mother too. You know she won’t be well. Nor your father. All their hopes and dreams dashed in a deficient daughter sent to carry a legacy on with a spiteful husband who mightn’t even have the stomach to deliver one. 

“I vewy much appweciate it, lady,” you make yourself smile, “I suppose it must be nawvs.” 

“Suppose it must,” she hums, “how about you wear the orange gown and I fetch you a feather pin from my own collection? I have a fabulous ostrich and topaz piece,” she assures, “and some black lace gloves. Ooh, yes, dear, we will make certain all is perfect.” 

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga, but it isn’t necessawy--” 

“You are to be my daughter, of course it is,” she preens. “Besides, who shall notice anything but how splendid you look?” 

She twists on her heel and your smile dwindles. You know what is meant. What she will not state plainly. Perhaps a fine outfit might distract from your crooked consonants. You sit on the stool again and watch her go. 

Even those who are kind cannot help their thoughts. She mightn’t be cruel about it, but you can hear the disappointment in her pandering cooing. You are not the daughter she wanted just as you are not the wife her son wanted. Just as you do not want to be as you are. 

[nebulousbrainsoup]

hey could i send a request for han jisung x readers enemies to lovers university au with the smut prompts 1 + 45 + 81(spoiled they get caught🤭) maybe with a party setting 🥰 thank you sm

prompts:

1. "I love it when you moan my name." || 45. "Just shut up and fuck me." || 81. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Vehemently

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: han jisung x fem!reader GENRE: enemies to lovers, smut, college au RATING: 18+ ; minors/ageless blogs dni TAGS/WARNINGS: ft. felix, hyunjin & lino, swearing, alcohol use, drug use, slight misunderstandings, sassy jisung & reader, quick edit, let me know if i missed anything! WORD COUNT: 3.7k SUMMARY: above! A/N: i haven't been able to stop thinking about this request since you sent it, but good LORD has this fic eluded me. i think i'm coming to the realization that i cannot be mean to any of the boys who are younger than me, even if it's only by a few months. but here you are, my dear, i hope the wait was worth it. have a full-length fic as an apology </3

smut tags/warnings under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: lil bit of hate sex, rough sex, dom-leaning jisung, sub-leaning reader, but they’re both switches to me, bratty behavior, biting, marking, brief oral (fem receiving), use of a condom, protected sex, piv, little bit of edging, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), getting caught; let me know if i missed anything, please!

Coming to this party was an awful idea. You’d known it when Felix had invited you, but he’d flashed those big brown eyes of his at you and you’d melted immediately. It was his birthday, after all, and you and Hyunjin were his best friends—it would be rude for you not to show, especially since your roommate had made it clear that he would be going. Though you were wary, you decided to give it the benefit of the doubt, with a promise from Hyunjin that he would stay by your side.

The second you’d walked through the door, though, Felix had wrapped you both up in hugs, and when you’d turned back around to find your roommate, he’d vanished. The same happened with Felix when you spun back around, and you were left alone in the entryway of a house you had never been to before. You sighed in defeat, resigning yourself to finding the kitchen alone. If you were going to be here, you may as well take advantage of the free liquor. 

You’d nearly finished mixing your drink when a familiar, loud laugh caught your attention, and a chill lit down your spine. Of course Changbin would be here, you reminded yourself. He’s one of Felix’s favorite people, after all, and just because he—and probably Chris, now that you thought about it—was here, it didn’t mean Han Jisung would be. You would be fine.

Lee Minho, on the other hand, was a more unexpected sight, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at finding the man staring at you, head tilted in confusion. He looked much like the black cat he was frequently compared to, and felt just as ill an omen. Sure, he and Felix were on the dance team together, but you had never known them to be close. Han and Minho on the other hand, had always been suspiciously so. 

You gave a tight smile, which he did not return, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”

You scrunched up your nose at him. “It’s… Felix’s birthday party? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Realization, though you weren’t sure of what, dawned on his face. “Ah, of course, silly me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” 

“It’s Felix’s birthday party,” he echoed, raising his plastic cup to you before turning to head out of the kitchen. “And Han’s, too.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him nearly skip away, and you quickly downed your entire drink. If Hyunjin couldn’t get you out of here now, you were going to have a long night ahead of you.

By the time you finally found your roommate, you had already caught sight of Han twice. You were fuming quietly when you finally made your way out to the backyard, unsurprisingly finding Hyunjin with a joint in one hand and a cup in the other, laughing as he passed it on to Jeongin. His eyes flickered up to you as you approached, and he began to scoot over to make room for you in the circle.

“Sorry! I kind of forgot we were sticking together. You can—”

“Did you know this was Han’s party, too?” You cut in, hands on your hips. 

The circle went quiet, and Hyunjin tilted his head at you. “You… didn’t?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have come.” You seethed, and he flushed, eyes dropping to the floor. When he didn’t reply, you huffed, crossing your arms and starting back for the house. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

It wasn’t anything against Felix or Hyunjin; you simply hated Han Jisung. You’d shared a gen-ed course your first year here, and he was the first face that stuck out to you in the lecture hall. You hadn’t expected much when you finally gathered the nerve to approach him—maybe a hello, or a quick number exchange. Instead, he’d kept his head down, given you a disinterested half-glance over, and made his way to the door without a single word, leaving you standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the lecture hall. When you’d finally gotten to know him through your mutual friends—with some reluctance—you’d immediately found him loud and annoying, far too cocky for your tastes. Between the awful first impression and his inability to take anything, especially you, seriously, your hatred for him had bloomed quickly.

And now, here you were at his birthday party. You’d seen him, sure, but you’d be damned if you let him see you. You had appearances to keep up and a heart to keep intact. Resolving to find Felix before just ditching him, you made your way back into the roiling crowd in the living room. It was hard to see between or over the dancing bodies as you were jostled, trying fruitlessly to elbow your way through, and you quickly abandoned that plan of action. Sighing, you made your way back to the kitchen, hoping for a little peace to clear your scrambled mind.

No such luck would come, it seemed, as the moment you turned the corner into the kitchen, you slammed face-first into the very man you were trying to avoid. His own freshly made drink went down the front of both of you, and you huffed a sigh, biting the inside of your lip to keep the tears of frustration from spilling. This party was a stupid idea.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?”

Before you could spiral into your abyss of self-loathing, his voice cut through your thoughts. 

“Fine,” you spat, “can’t say the same for my clothes, though.”

He frowned, irritation crossing his features at your attitude. “Look, sorry, but maybe you should watch where you’re going next time. I know you hate me, but take it easy on the booze, would you?” 

You rolled your eyes heartily, turning on your heel. Just as you were about to cross back into the living room, his hand latched around your wrist. “Wait!” He looked stunned as you turned around, swallowing thickly and giving you a once-over. “It’s kind of my fault, too, I wasn’t really… Let me grab you something to wear and I can dry your clothes or something.”

“It’s fine, I was heading out anyway.”

“It’s only been an hour. Felix wants you to at least stay til midnight, right? For his actual birthday? You and Hyunjin are like his best friends, come on. Don’t make him suffer just ‘cause you’re pissed at me.”

You scrunched up your nose and, not for the first time, Jisung thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He never quite figured out why you hated him so much, but it was common knowledge between your mutual friends, and he played into it every chance he got. It was easier that way; he could put some distance between himself and his feelings for you. Whatever the reason may be, you absolutely despised him, and to see you here tonight was a complete surprise. He assumed you were here for Felix—everyone knew how close the two of you were; and the last thing he wanted to do was force you to leave the party because of his presence or clumsiness.

“Let me help. For him. Then I’ll stay out of your hair for the rest of the night.”

You sighed, but the way your shoulders slumped told Han he had won this battle. “Fine,” you muttered, tugging your wrist free of his grasp. “But it’s just for Lix.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he teased, grinning widely. As he squeezed past you, he took your hand, grip tightening as you tried to yank away from him. 

“Don’t want you to get lost in the fray, do we?” His cocky little smirk was still plastered on his face, and you rolled your eyes heartily, gesturing him forward.Although it had heat rising to your cheeks, you were thankful for Jisung’s hand in yours—though you were loath to admit it, he was right. You would have been swept away in the crowd within seconds if not for his firm grip. God, what you would do to have those hands elsewhere; he really was unfairly pretty. As he dragged you along, you got a lovely view of just how much he had filled out since that first day in the lecture hall—his shoulders having broadened and his biceps having thickened. Despite your front, you were just as head over heels for this man as you had been the day you laid eyes on him.

There were significantly fewer people upstairs, and you tugged your hand from his grip the moment you could, though with slightly less vehemence this time. He still shot a sideways glance back at you, a half-glare that held less heat than it had earlier. By the time you made it to his room, you were fighting to keep your façade up, replaying how quick he’d been to help you and how his hand felt in yours on a loop. It seemed both of you were struggling to hold onto your hatred. As you crossed the threshold into a space that, until this point, seemed both forbidden and tainted, you felt a shift in the air. 

His space was a lived-in amount of messy; there was a half-full Starbucks cup on his desk, clothes on the floor, and his bed was unmade. He didn’t touch the light switch by the door, instead picking up a remote, the lamps connected to it casting a warm glow over the room. It felt cozy, you thought, and immediately frowned. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

He turned to you, t-shirt and shorts in hand, holding them out for you to take. “You can change here. I’ll wait outside for your clothes… Unless you want help.”

He grinned, his grip on the pile of clothes in both of your hands unrelenting, using your tugging on them as an excuse to crowd into your space. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jisung?” you hissed back.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind putting you in your place,” he practically purred, his free hand shifting to hover over your waist. “See if you still hate me so much when I’ve got you under me.” 

“As if your mediocre dick game could change my mind.” You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol talking, but suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to test this theory.

His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, leaving a very different version of Han Jisung in front of you than you were used to. “I’ll show you mediocre,” he hissed, releasing his hold on his clothes and shoving you back toward his bed. “It’ll be anyone else you’ve had or will have.”

“What the fuck ever.” You rolled your eyes, letting his clean clothes drop to the floor, reaching up to grab his shirt and tug him toward you. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” you muttered, dragging him against you and crashing your lips together.

You felt him grin against you and you sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulling a quiet hiss from him. One of his hands snapped up, fisting into your hair to yank you back. The look on his face was one you wanted to either slap or kiss off of him; the line was too blurred now to tell which.

“Like it a little rough, do we?” He prodded, both his hands dropping to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it over your head in one fluid motion, your bra quickly joining it over his shoulder. He straightened back up, licking his lips hungrily as he took the opportunity to drink you in. “Wonder if I can still taste my drink…” he mused, quickly pressing you back against the mattress to latch his lips to your chest.

You groaned, half in frustration and half from pleasure. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He sunk his teeth into your breast sharply at your jab, a surprised squeak leaving you at the feeling. Almost immediately, he was releasing you and soothing the sting with his lips and tongue, no doubt attempting to leave behind a mark that, even if it weren’t visible, would be felt tomorrow. You let a quiet groan pass your lips, and Jisung pulled back with a quiet pop to grin at you.

“Still hate me?”

“Vehemently.”

He clicked his tongue. “Looks like I need to try harder, then.”

In a feat of strength you weren’t aware he was capable of, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, tossing you further onto the bed. You gasped, catching yourself on your elbows as he joined you, making quick work of the button and zipper of your shorts. With a swift tug, he’d pulled them down to your ankles and, with your help, they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Suddenly aware of the disparity between yours and Jisung’s clothing, you sat up, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt so you could bunch it up under his arms. “Off,” you demanded, and he quickly complied, tugging it over his head.

Before you could say another word or pull at his shorts, he slipped back down your body, his lips trailing wet warmth down your torso. The moment he reached the waistband of your underwear, he paused, gazing up at you through his lashes. “You’re sure about this?”

For the first time that night, he seemed unsure. His doe eyes were wide and open, an honesty behind them that the two of you didn’t usually share. It made your stomach twist and your heart skip a beat, and you nodded. 

“I thought you had something to prove,” you muttered in an attempt to ignore the tangle of feelings in your chest, tugging him down toward your core.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your clothed heat before tugging your panties off. The moment they were gone, he was back between your legs, licking a fat stripe up over your folds before his lips attached themselves to your clit. You whined, high-pitched and heady, and he smirked up at you, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Like that, huh?” 

Your jaw clenched and you sighed heavily through your nose, your grip in his hair tightening until he winced. “Han Jisung, I swear if you don’t… Just shut up and fuck me or put your mouth to better use.”

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered as he pushed himself back up your body, your lips meeting again in a messy kiss. 

He pulled back before you did, wincing again as you tried to tug him back to you, both of you fumbling with his jeans. “Gotta let me up, baby,” he murmured between kisses. He was clinging just as desperately as you were, his lips barely parting from your own. “Condoms are in my desk.”

You huffed, annoyed, and flopped back against the mattress, releasing his scalp from your death grip. The sound pulled a quiet chuckle from him as he stood, finally unbuttoning his pants and darting across the small room to his desk drawer. He shucked both his pants and boxers to the floor as he made his way back, and it was everything you could do not to gawk, open-mouthed, at how unbelievably pretty he was. The arms you’d noticed earlier were only the beginning, apparently—his toned stomach and legs matching them perfectly in a stunning contrast to his round face. Fuck, even his cock was pretty, flushed and leaking as he rolled the condom over it. The last shred of your pride was the only thing keeping you from begging to wrap your lips around him first.

“Like what you see?” He broke the silence, and the self-satisfied look on his face told you he had most definitely caught you staring. 

“Keep running your mouth and I’ll leave you like this.”

The panic-stricken look that flashed in his eyes had you biting back laughter, but it was quickly replaced by something darker as he caught the grin on your face. He glared at you as he settled between your legs again, ducking down once more to suck hard on your clit.

“J-Jisung!” you gasped, hand snapping down to card into his hair again. The tight circles his tongue drew over the little bundle of nerves had pleasure rocketing up your spine, your entire body tensing with the sudden onslaught. As suddenly as that had begun, the stimulation shifted, his tongue darting between your folds to taste you, and you whined out his name once more. He groaned against you, giving your clit another harsh suck—one that nearly brought you over the edge—before he sat back on his heels again.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan my name,” he sighed, caging you in below him as he lined himself up with your entrance. “It sounds a lot prettier than all those nasty, empty threats.”

“Han,” you sighed, hips rolling toward his own.

He frowned disapprovingly and shifted his hips back, the hand that had been guiding his cock now pressing your hips into the mattress. “Not like that, sweetheart, c’mon. Say it right.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to quit talking?” you huffed, grabbing at his hips.

“Or put my mouth to better use, and I think at least one of those requests has been fulfilled.” 

The grin on his face was wide and you were once again hit with the urge to wipe it off his face. The surge of rage lasted only a moment, though, before he was teasing at your hole again and your breath caught in your throat. You melted under him, hand sliding up from his hips to grip at his shoulders.

“Jisung,” you breathed, hips rolling forward again. 

This time, you saw his shaky inhale as he did the same, quiet, broken sounds leaving you both as he finally filled you. He swallowed thickly, head tucking into your neck to pepper light kisses against your skin as he bottomed out, giving you both time to adjust. He was bigger than you’d expected, just thick enough to provide a pleasant stretch. You hummed, eyes slipping shut, and ground your hips against his.

“You have something to prove, don’t you, pretty boy?” You muttered against the shell of his ear, and you felt his shoulders shake with the chuckle that left him. “Fuck me like you hate me, Han Jisung.”

He propped himself up as his hips rolled back, the hand not bracing him wrapping around your back to lift your hips from the mattress. As his lips twitched up into a smirk, he slammed back into you, settling immediately into a ruthless pace. You managed to choke back the shout that left you halfway through it, nails sinking into his back as your jaw dropped open. Strained, needy sounds were punched out of you with every snap of his hips, matched by his own pants and groans as you scratched down his back. 

“This what you wanted?” he ground out, eyes narrowing when you gave no response. “Wanted me to—to fuck you stupid? Can’t even—mmph!”

You cut him off with your lips, swallowing his next deep groan and muffling your own squeak as he picked up his pace. The kiss devolved quickly into little more than sharing air, your bodies pressed tightly together as you chased your highs. One of your hands shifted from his shoulder, snaking between the two of you to rub at your cli and Jisung shifted as you did, pausing his rhythm to sit back on his heels and drag you with him. When he resumed his pace, the new angle had you crying out, your free hand fisting into the sheets and your eyes rolling back in your head. Distantly, you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but you were too far gone to care.

You were falling over the peak of your pleasure in moments, his name falling from your lips one last time. The sight of you alone, skin sweat-slicked and back arched in pleasure, was enough to bring Jisung to the edge of his own orgasm, and the sound of your voice sent him careening over it. He pulled your hips flush with his own and let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him as he spilled into the condom. Both of you stilled, your eyes closed and only the sound of your shaky breathing filling the room as the weight of reality prodded at the edges of your foggy mind. You could stay suspended in this little fantasy for a moment longer, you decided.

Or, you would have, if not for the rapping at the door. You and Jisung shared a look of panic and scrambled apart, both grabbing for the top blanket on his bed as the door cracked open. Your stomach sank as Felix’s voice met your ears, his blue head of hair peeking around the corner.

“It’s almost midnight, dude, what are you—oh!”

You locked eyes with your best friend before you could pull the covers over your head, and heat immediately rushed to your face. Slowly, you sank underneath them anyway, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

He snapped back around it nearly immediately, pressing his back to the door as he finished. “Uh, nevermind! Midnight is soon, we had that, uh… thing planned, but… I’m gonna head back down, you two have fun!”

As the door snapped shut behind him, the silence that fell over you and Jisung felt heavy, and you just as slowly crept out from under the blankets. Meeting his eyes, you saw the same confusion you felt reflected in his stare. His eyes flickered rapidly over your face as he gnawed at his lower lip, searching for something, though you had no idea what.

“Still hate me?” He muttered, nearly immediately moving to discard the condom, busying himself to avoid meeting your gaze.

Your voice was shaky, the heat absent from it as you replied, “Vehemently.”

TAGLISTS: permanent [open]: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict skz [open]: @marcillfll @tattywood @loving-strawberry special: @bluehwale-main @jaehunnyy strikethrough means i cannot tag you properly. send an ask to join!

banners & dividers, as usual, from the lovely @cafekitsune

© July 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[everythingseasoning]

Misunderstandings. 

AU - You’re in love with your best friend Eren Jaeger, but he seems to be interested in somebody else.

Tags: Pining. Friends to lovers. Fem bodied reader. For any skin, POC friendly <3

Warnings: Eventual smut. Minors DNI with pt. 2

Length: pretty short. this is pt. 1

“She looks nothing like me. 

So why do you look so happy?

I know now, if I tried to change, 

Somehow, you’d end up with her anyway.”

\opposite, Sabrina Carpenter\

𓆩♡𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪

A whole city. Endless festivities, adventures, movies, people bustling about on a Friday night. But you stared out the window alone. 

Tears slipped down your face as you buried your face into your sweater, the sleeves damp from all the tears you’d already cried. It still smelled like him. You felt like a mess. You felt ugly. You sniffed again, stretching your jaw to see just how puffy your face was. 

Your phone buzzed: You checked it, feeling your skin crawl when you saw his name on the bright white screen. 

Eren <3: Y/n, why aren’t you answering me?

A few hours ago:

It was Friday night and he’d bailed on you, on your plans. Eren said he was feeling ill. So imagine your surprise when you saw him at the mall with another girl that same night. She looked nothing like you, from her hair, to her skin, to her eyes. She was giggling as he held her waist.

And there you were, standing with two reusable bags hanging off your arms, filled with items for him, staring into a picture of a beautiful couple— a picture that you didn’t belong in. 

You were at the mall, buying him silly hair clips so you could pin them on his gorgeous brown hair, before helping him with his skincare. You’d planned to go over to Eren’s place that night. Eren always slacked on his skincare whenever he was sick. And you were about to hurry back to your car, which had fresh produce in the driver’s seat. You were worrying about the food spoiling before you could cook tonight, for him. …But then you saw them, and it wasn’t a trick, it was undeniable: Eren cupped her face and you felt your heart drop. Green jealousy exploded in your body, betrayal and shock coursing through your veins. You wanted to run away. You wanted to scream. You wanted to disappear. Eren pressed his lips to hers, his hands above her butt, pulling her flush against his body. You turned and walked away, tears already hitting the ground. 

… 

Your phone buzzed again. 

Eren <3: Y/n?

You: Why didn’t you just tell me the truth.

Eren <3: WHAT How did you end up at the same mall that I went to? There’s like a dozen in this city.

Eren: Hello?

Eren: are you mad?

Eren: I didn’t mean to lie, Y/n. It’s just that Isabella asked me out, and I knew you’d be mad if I canceled plans to hang out with somebody else… You know you’re my best friend.

You didn’t know what was worse. The fact that Eren had totally missed the apology mark, or that he’d thought you’d be like an understanding wingman for him. 

You muffled a scream, feeling totally helpless, totally jealous, totally hurt. 

You: I can’t be friends with you anymore, I’m sorry. I just need to be away from you. You haven’t realized how much you’ve hurt me, for months now. So this is goodbye.

Eren: …What??

You: Please just leave me alone. Don’t try to reach me, in any way. Congrats on your date. 

Eren: Y/n, what are you talking about?! 

Eren: I called you, answer the next time I call

Eren: Y/n… come on. I’m coming over.

You: Eren, don’t. 

Eren: Too bad. My best friend is upset. I’m gonna be there for her.

Your heart ripped even further. You didn’t think it was possible for it to hurt even more, but now you knew: Eren would only ever see you as a best friend. 

You: I said leave me alone. If you show up, I won’t answer. I’ll call security.

You finally clicked out of his contact, his name changed to its rightful title.

Dumbass: Are you being serious right now??

You: I’m leaving now. Leave me alone. Please.

You deleted his contact. You went around your house and grabbed all of Eren’s belongings: his spare toothbrush, his scrunchie, his stuffed teddy bear. You threw it all in a bag. 

It was time to get over the love of your life. 

— 3 months later —

“Jean. I think I’m in love with her.”

“So that’s why you haven’t fucked anybody in months,” Jean replied, swirling cream into his coffee. 

“These have been the hardest months of my life, without her.” Eren groaned. His hair was down, and he wore sweats in the campus cafe. He was a hot mess.

“Dude, she was your best friend, what happened?” 

“I… I don’t even know. She just said I was hurting her? For months? And that she couldn’t do it anymore… I fucked up, Jean. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind. I miss her so bad.”

— Pt. 1 End, cause I need to fucking sleep —

AN: yo this is rushed as fuck. 

It’s not thought out. It’s unlike my usual work, and tbh I don’t like it. 

But like. Hope you enjoyed?! 

Pt. 2 comes out if y’all want it. You can just comment if you want a pt. 2 :)

[hoenoredone]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH – nanami kento

a/n: sorry for the inactivity, exams have been kicking my ass

contents: nanami is starting to get old. he used to be able to withstand nights of drinking until he passed out and the subsequent work day, but now the a/c gives him a cold. tags: sfw, enstablished relationship, married au, non sorcerer au, fem!reader, talks of snot and fever, unbelievably self indulgent.

unbelievable. un-believable. you knew something was wrong when nanami had made himself a cup of chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey the night before. he had told you he was just tired from work, but – realistically – who wants to have hot tea in the middle of july? he had been clearig his throat way too often before going to bed, and he looked like he was struggling to swallow whatever food you offered.

after years of marriage you knew better than to ask him about it, he'd only deny feeling unwell. so you do the next best thing: slip him a tablet for his sore throat with the usual vitamins he takes every night. he fell asleep almost instantly, his body already tired from fighting off the illness. he unintentionally woke you up at around 4am from blowing his nose a little too hard, causing him to cough into the tissue.

he struggled to fall asleep again after that, tossing and turning every couple of minutes, no doubt from not being able to breathe properly. it's in that precise moment (5:33am) when you decide that he's taking the day off tomorrow. he's an icredibly responsible worker, he has more than enough sick days accumulated to be able to use at least one.

you wake up before him – miraculously, considering how little sleep you got – and make him some breakfast as quietly as possible. you decided not to turn off his alarm clock because you knew he would not listen to you and simply rush straight to work if you had done that. so you opt to set the table and place the freshly squeezed orange and ginger juice next to his green tea and a bowl of honey-banana oatmeal.

you hear the familiar beeping of the alarm clock as you're pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and patiently wait for your husband to come into the kitchen. you must be lost in thought because you almost don't notie him until he rests his head on your shoulder and tries to stifle a cough.

"morning," he groggily says.

"sweetheart," you coo while turning to face him, "did you have trouble sleeping? i heard you coughing at some point. here," you place your coffee down on the counter and raise your hand to his forehead, "let me see."

you almost gasp at the heaviness of his eyelids and the unusual warmth of his forehead.

"kento, you look ill," and he knows you're serious, you never call him by his name.

"i feel fine," he tries, but he knows that it's useless. he doesn't feel too bad, just congested. and he has a headache. and his throat is killing him. he can power through.

"have some breakfast and go back to bed, i'll text your boss and bring you some medicine after," he can't even protest, the thought of having to get ready and go into that cold, cold office where his cubicle is inches away from the a/c sending chills down his spine. not like his protests would matter much, regardless, as you're already sprinting to his phone. so he sits down, alternates between sipping his tea and the juice you had made him (the ginger burns his throat but he forces himself to swallow). he tries to eat most of the oatmeal but his stomach just doesn't agree with him, so he leaves a little less than half of it in the bowl.

he's a good man, tidies up after himself even when oh so horribly sick, and goes back to bed. once you hear the rustling of the covers you know you've succeded. you exit the bathroom, a smidge of eye cream unblended on your cheek, and hand him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. you make sure he has enough tissues by the bed and leave him a bottle of cough syrup and a spoon on his nightstand. you tuck the comforter all the way up his chin and grab some clothes to get ready for work.

once you're ready you come back into the bedroom and almost decide to leave without giving him a kiss in fear of disturbing his rest. you opt against that, knowing how unusually whiny your husband gets when he's sick. so you place a gentle hand on his arm and leave a peck on his forehead.

"i'll try to be back for lunch," you whisper, "but if i don't make it there should be some leftovers in the fridge if you feel up to it."

he groans in response as you make your way to your shoe rack, a barely audible "love you" from him painting a smile on your lips as you quietly close the door.

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 1: The Awakening

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Summary:

Doctor Steven Grant accepted a job as a professor at a prestigious college in New England. While you're on your way to your first history class in your second semester of your junior year, you run into an attractive English man at the coffee shop. The two of you hit it off, and since you're both headed in the same direction upon leaving, you decide to walk together. You're both excited to have met someone you have clear chemistry with right off the bat until...you realize that you both were headed to the same building, and that he's your new history professor.

When you discover that there's even more to this man than meets the eye, things get even more complicated than you could've imagined. Loving one man who's almost twice your age in a place where your relationship is forbidden is hard enough, nevermind three.

Chapter Summary:

It's your first day of class, and you meet a nice guy at the coffee shop on your way in. Too bad when you find out he's just out of reach.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 3.8k

It was the first day of the semester and you were already looking forward to it being over. With the holidays out of the way, you should be feeling refreshed and ready for the second half of your junior year, but when the sun beat through your dorm room and directly into your eyes, in combination with your screeching alarm, you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. Your roommate was stirring on the other side of the room in her own bed, and you were sure she felt the same.

Coming back from winter break was never easy. You had to get used to a new schedule, and leave behind the laziness of gorging on food and festivities with your family. You picked up your phone and turned off the alarm with a groan before flopping back over on the mattress. It was only 7:15am.

Layla grumbled into her pillow. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You agreed, throwing your blanket off in a huff.

“What class do you have first?”

“History with… Dr. Grant, I think.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, he’s the new professor who came over from England I think.” She sighed and got out of bed.

Her dark curls were a mess and bouncing all around her as she walked over to the small mirror in the wardrobe and picked something out of her teeth. You remembered hearing there was a new professor for this history course after the last one got kicked out for having inappropriate relations with a student, but you had forgotten the name of the replacement until now. History wasn’t really your strong suit anyway.

“My parents told me I have to ask him for tutoring.” You said, picking some clothes out of your drawer. “I flunked last year.”

“I remember.” She said with a hair elastic in her teeth while she pulled her curls back into a messy bun.

You got yourself dressed, put a little makeup on and finished getting ready. The air outside was chilly, and you pulled your coat tightly over yourself. You stopped in at Moonbean Coffee to get your usual pick-me-up before your first class. One of the perks of an open campus was the luxury of grabbing a real coffee before spending hours in a lecture.

The line in front of you was fortunately short, only one person stood between you and the barista. You noticed the man in front of you fumbling around in the pockets of his gray jacket. He let out a sound in frustration.

“Bollocks.” He said under his breath, patting himself down. “I think I left my wallet…”

He looked panicked, and you felt bad, having been in that position before. You decided it was time to do your good samaritan act of the day and you pulled your own wallet out of your bag.

“Here.” You reached around the man and handed the woman at the register a bill.

The man turned to you and his lips curled into a big smile. His tired eyes looked you up and down. You took note of his disheveled appearance. He clearly needed his drink as badly as you did.

“Oh! You don’t have to do that, I’m just-erm…I don’t have to have it.” He said, clearly anxious from your kind gesture. You took note of his thick English accent.

You shrugged and smiled at him comfortingly, “I’d die without my morning coffee. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good morning…” the barista said your name.

“Morning, T.” You said as she got started on your usual drink.

The man still stood there to the side. “That really was very kind of you. Very sweet.” He sipped the cup. “Oh bugger.” He cursed. “That’s hot.” A small chuckle escaped him.

You giggled. “Don’t mention it. I’ve been there, done that.”

His gaze lingered on you, lips still curled in a cheeky grin. He gasped when his wrist buzzed. He looked at it quickly.

“Oh, I really have to get goin’. You come here often, yeah?” He asked, looking at you eagerly.

“Y-yeah, I do.” T handed you your coffee as you handed her another bill and told her to keep the change.

Following him to the door, he opened it for you, letting you out first before exiting as well.

“Good, maybe I’ll catch you another time then, I’ll getcha back.” He nodded. “Alright then. Bye!”

“Yeah, sounds good!” You smiled foolishly at him, “bye.” You waved before realizing he was walking the same direction you were going.

He let out a laugh as you kept pace with him. “Well of course we’re walkin’ the same way. That’s not awkward at all.”

You chuckled, “Well, you can make it up to me now then, walking alone can be boring.”

When you saw the way he looked at you, your stomach fluttered. You’d seen that look before. He was interested in you. The man was clearly older than you, but you didn’t care. He was good looking, and judging by his messy curls, gentle gaze and overall demeanor, he was just your type.

“Alright sure, yeah, I can do that.” He said eagerly.

You introduced yourself. “…what’s your name?”

“Oh, name’s Steven, with a V.”

The two of you started walking in the direction of the building your class would be held in.

“So, Steven, clearly you’re not from around here, what brings you to a small college city like this?” You sipped your warm drink while the two of you walked through the chilly September air, not wanting to rush.

“Well, a job, actually.” He sipped from his cup, too, this time not flinching at the temperature.

“Oh, what do you do for work?” You asked, realizing you were approaching the brick building where your class was held all too quickly. You wished it was just a little further so you could get just another moment with Steven.

He stopped in front of the building, as if he knew you were stopping there before you told him your destination.

“I’m a history professor. This is my stop actually! Sorry, not a long walking partner.” His friendly and naive smile was about to fade when he realized the awful irony of the situation you were both in.

It hit you like a truck, “a-are you…Dr. Grant?” You asked, brows stitched together as your heart dropped into your stomach.

It made sense now: the English accent, out of place in a New England college city, the messy hair, the messenger bag and binder of notes that you just then took notice of. It should’ve been obvious from the moment you met him, everything about his appearance screamed ‘college professor’.

For some reason, this felt awkward. It was obvious just in the short time you’d known this man that you both were somewhat attracted to one another. Not that it was serious, of course, but there was an undeniable flirtatious air surrounding the whole encounter. The way he looked at you, and the way you looked at him, sharing timid smiles between promises of coffee, it was plain as day.

Now, he was shifting awkwardly in front of you as you were tapping the paper cup in your hand deep in thought. There was nothing wrong with buying your new professor a cup of coffee when he forgot his wallet, and there was nothing wrong with your new professor walking his student to class. You were both walking the same way anyway.

“Erm…yeah, yup.” You could see him trying to shake off the fog, the fantasy you both had entertained for the two minute walk.

“Well, that’s so ironic.” You tried to push past it, hoping it would help diffuse the new tension. “I’m in your class.”

He nodded despondently, his dark circled eyes looking to the ground to avoid your gaze. He hastily opened the door for you, and you thanked him as you walked in. You were stiff as a board as you made your way inside the classroom. Even though there was really nothing wrong with the interaction you’d had, something felt maddeningly nerve wracking about the whole situation.

You took a seat somewhere in the middle next to someone you remembered seeing around in other classes last semester, but never remembered her name. You hoped Dr. Grant would take you sitting in the middle table as a way of saying, “that whole interaction was totally normal, not awkward at all, see? I’m sitting in the middle instead of all the way in the back corner to avoid you.” You silently hoped the message translated.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag. You opened it and peered over the top. Dr. Grant’s eyes were stuck on you for a second while he shuffled the papers on his desk before he nervously looked away and sat down. 

You tried to look at anything other than him, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at him over the top of your screen. He put his laptop on his desk and opened it. You watched him inconspicuously as he put his jacket around the back of his chair and he pulled out a pair of glasses, placing them on his face. They made him look older, but you didn’t think it made him any less attractive. In fact, you liked the way they looked. You quickly shook the thought from your head.

You need to stop this, you’re acting ridiculous, you told yourself.

“Alright, well.” He stood up, let out a deep exhale, and put the glasses back on the table. The final students were trickling in. “I’m Dr. Grant, but you can all call me Steven. Dr. Grant is a bit formal, innit?” He chuckled, but the rest of the class remained silent. “Alright.” He rubbed his hands together nervously.

You felt bad, seeing him clearly trying to connect with the uncaring class. He messed idly with his dark blue tie before patting it down and clearing his throat.

“Well, I won’t start us off with anything too flashy today. It is the first day after all.” He began.

The lecture was a couple of hours, but Dr. Grant made it feel like it was much shorter than that. He was like a completely different person than the anxious man you’d met at the cafe. He was excited, smiling and full of energy while he taught the first lesson. To see someone so passionate about something sparked excitement and admiration inside you, even if the subject itself wasn’t your strong suit.

The amount of times he said, ‘I mean, wow’, was surprising and more than a little endearing. He certainly had a way of making a topic that you weren’t very adept in much more interesting just from his own enthusiasm. As he was wrapping up the lecture, you checked the clock. 10:20am. Your next class wasn’t until 1:00pm, leaving you plenty of time to talk to him about tutoring. Only tutoring, you reminded yourself.

You felt anxious though, standing there after the last student left. You clutched your satchel to your side like your life depended on it. He didn’t notice you at first, because you’d started to walk away with the crowd, trying to decide if you were even going to ask him to tutor you or not, but then you remembered your father’s words. I’m not paying for you to waste your time in school, you already picked a meaningless major, the least you can do is get decent grades.

You stepped up to his desk and cleared your throat. He peered up over his reading glasses and jumped when he saw you.

“Oh, erm, hi, class is dismissed.” He said anxiously, so different from the person speaking with utmost confidence to fifty or more students just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you started, “I know, I just needed to talk to you about something.”

He started getting nervous, you could see sweat beading on his forehead above his strong eyebrows. If someone asked you why you were so anxious about asking your new history professor to tutor you, you’d tell them you had no idea, but deep down you knew it was because the two of you definitely had a weird connection at the coffee shop.

“Oh, is this about…it’s about the coffee, yeah? I really-”

“N-no, Dr. Grant-“

“Steven.” He corrected you.

“S-Steven.” You cleared your throat once again. “No, I’m, uh, I’m not worried about the coffee. I need to ask for tutoring.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in relief, “Oh, heh, right, yeah, ‘course.” A large smile on his face. 

He felt the connection, too, you thought, and he’s relieved you didn’t bring it up.

“Well, there’s plenty of other students around who do that, yeah? Maybe go to the library, I think that’s where you sign up for something like that.” You didn’t know what it was about this man that captivated you, but when his eyes locked on to yours you felt your stomach twist in yearning.

“Um…yeah.” You were wearing a faint smile while accepting his rejection. “Yeah, I guess I can try that. They didn’t have anyone last semester, but maybe they will this time. Thanks.”

It was probably for the best that he didn’t tutor you, judging by his reaction, and that’s not even considering if the connection was real and you hadn’t just made it up. You gave him a friendly nod and turned on your heel toward the exit. Just as you were grabbing the door handle, Steven spoke up.

“Wait, hold on.” He said, standing up. You turned to him. “They probably aren’t very good anyway, the students they have tutoring. Why don’t you come by after your last class on Wednesday? Not sure why time you get finished, but I can make something work.”

“M-my last class on Wednesday gets over at like seven.” You explained.

He shrugged, “M’sure my goldfish will be alright if I get home a bit later than usual.”

“Wow, okay, brilliant, yes Dr. G-uh-Steven!” You couldn’t contain your toothy grin as you thanked him profusely and left.

You felt like you were in a trance for the rest of the day. You’d thought that by not having Steven in your direct line of sight you’d be able to move on from the feeling in your gut, but it only festered. He was occupying your mind. The way he laughed, the way he talked, the way he looked at you, it was maddening.

You kept thinking about his messy hair, wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. When he got nervous just from looking at you, straightening his tie, you wondered what it would look like to have him loosening it, maybe unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. His eyes are what really captivated you, he looked exhausted, but they still shined so brightly when he looked at you, before he’d realized that you were his student.

When you got back to your dorm and turned in for the night, you took it upon yourself to look up your college’s specific rules around student and teacher relationships. Even though the last history professor got fired, you were trying to convince yourself now that there had to be a different reason. There just had to be.

There wasn’t a different reason though. The rules were plain as day: student and professor relationships were a no go. No one seemed to care what happened when you graduated, but until then, it was strictly forbidden. There was even talk in some resources you found about the student being expelled since they are, after all, a consenting adult who knew the consequences of their actions.

With that, it was time to lay your growing need to put yourself in Steven’s presence as much as possible to rest. At least, you wanted to. You couldn’t though, while you lay there in the dark, with Layla snoring on the other side of the room. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked you up and down, his hooded eyes drinking you in, the way he exuded confidence to the class, and then became shy around you immediately after. 

Your hand trailed down under your pajama bottoms to your already soaking folds, slick with your desire to know what else Steven was proficient in. You thought about his hands around the coffee cup earlier, how big they looked, veins rippling under the skin when he brought the cup to his lips. You wondered what they felt like, what one of his thick fingers would feel like inside of you. Slipping one of your own fingers inside wasn’t enough, you wanted more, you wanted to feel him.

You wished that you could fit a second finger inside, but it was too tight. You felt hot with need as you pumped in and out of your slick hole, imagining Steven hovering over you. He would tell you how wrong it was to be doing what you were doing as he trailed his hands up your ribcage and to your breasts. Would he moan loudly when he came, or would he be quiet but breathy, pressing his face into the nape of your neck to muffle his sound?

You didn’t know much about sex, not outside of porn that is. You’d done other things before. You’d tried going down on someone, but had a hard time figuring out how to do it right, at least according to the guy you were with. He had tried eating you out, but you found it was either very overrated, or he was really bad at it.

Thinking about those things made you wonder what Dr. Grant’s cock tasted like, or what it felt like. If you couldn’t even fit two fingers, you weren’t sure how you were going to manage to take him. Just thinking about it was making your arousal become unbearable. You needed him, badly, no matter how wrong you knew it was.

You could hardly take it, feeling your orgasm approaching as you fingered yourself to thoughts of your history professor. You decided you didn’t really care what he sounded like when he came, you just ached to hear him. It almost hurt how hard you bit your lip when your cunt clamped in waves over your lone digit. Your breathing was heavy, and when you felt clarity once more, you fell back onto your pillow. You had to let it go, you had to get over him somehow.

But Steven had to get over you, too. 

When he got home that night after a long day of classes, he found himself standing in front of his mirror. It had been so long since he’d heard their voices. At least a couple of months. They said they wouldn’t come back, they said they would stay in the headspace, and that they wouldn’t say a word. They hadn’t said anything specific yet, but he could hear them becoming more active since that morning.

That wasn’t the only thing bothering him, the thought of you danced in his mind. You were there, causing his heart to race; causing him to feel a pang of guilt that was vastly outweighed by the arousal building behind his zipper. He had been fighting the pressure all day, fighting the heady thoughts. Steven liked to think he was mentally stronger than the primal desires that came with sex, but just seeing you in that coffee shop that morning, and the way you looked at him, it kept playing in his head over and over again like a movie.

It got to a point that he couldn’t bear the ache any longer. He took off his pants and boxer-briefs, freeing his weeping erection. He crawled into bed, not even bothering to remove his jacket or shirt, as he was too eager. Nothing had inspired him to relieve himself like this in a long, long time. He crawled into bed and laid down on his back, taking his cock into his closed fist.

Dry…s’dry, need some…

He leaned up, spitting a glob of saliva into his palm before going back to work on himself. He gripped his length, sliding over it with his fist much easier now, tossing his head back as he reached the tip. He ran his hand through his curls to get them out of his face, looking down at his cock while he thrust upward into his fingers.

“F-fu…” He said, trembling slightly.

He kept thinking about you, your hair, your sweet lips, the way you giggled when he burned himself on his hot coffee that morning. He whined, reaching down to grab the sheet at his side. He exhaled sharply, continuing to glide into his palm smoothly, increasing speed as he got even closer. The way your face lit up when he agreed to tutor you was etched into his memory.

So young, though…he thought, too young…

It didn’t stop him from bringing his hand back to his mouth, adding more saliva to continue jerking his length. He was putting his hips into it now, imagining what it would be like to have you, just for a second he let himself go there in his mind. He thought about having you on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. You, lowering yourself over his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt. Another whine escaped him. You were so pretty, he imagined looking up at you, maybe you’d bite your lip and throw your head back with a moan. Maybe you’d grab your breast, pinching the nipple, maybe you’d tell him how good he felt inside of you. That’s all it took. He filled the apartment with his moans as he coated his fingers and abdomen in hot sticky cum.

Steven’s brain was empty, other than thoughts of you that still plagued him. He’d hoped that by doing this, it would help him let it go, but now he wished you were there for different reasons. You were so bubbly and full of energy. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to learn more about you, get to know what else makes you laugh.

With a heavy sigh, Steven slid off the bed, careful to keep his cum coated fingers from touching anything. He turned on the light in the bathroom and started rinsing his hands in the sink, finishing and grabbing a towel. When he started drying his hands, his eyes looked up into the mirror again. 

His heart stopped. He waved at himself, checking to make sure his reflection kept up. They said they weren’t coming back…

Next Chapter

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts, @outmodead, @sleepyamaya, @pimosworld, @ababynova, @flordelalunas, @360iris, @momo-mochiball, @missdragon-1

[ritz-writes]

@asleepyy so sorry for tagging u twice in one day and i hope im not bothering u with my brain rot 😅

but yes, i did actually dissect the lyrics. yes, i am actually insane. and yes, i love this au quite a lot.

here are my notes and what i think each song represents, tho its mainly just the vibes i get. i made notes as i listened to them (note: i see songs almost always in animatic form. idk if that will effect how i imagine what each song means, but i thought it might be worth mentioning)

join me as i lose my mind over the course of an hour and a half

say what you think: def making me think of them both in heaven and jophiel wanting to ask questions.

running up that hill: AHH this one hurt. very obvious as well. jophiel seeing that azazel shouldnt be a demon. "And if I only could I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get Him to swap our places." i am sobbingggg

what difference does it make?: at first i was going to say its jophiel wanting to figure out what went wrong but azazel makes them promise not to, but i think its better suited for azazel understanding hes a demon, but he cant help but still have faith in the almighty

please please please let me get what i want: fuckkk is this about azazel being a demon but still wanting to do good 😭 short but still painful

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn't've): my first reaction to the title alone was like the second image of the kambucha girl meme. anyway i think this one is about them becoming friends (or more?? 👀) but knowing its seen as wrong. "And if I start a commotion, I run the risk of losing you and that's worse" makes me also think of jophiel talking to the metatron and realizing he shouldnt ask about azazel lest he risk the poor thing being smited.

nothing critical: ohhhh this one gives hella vibes of jophiel not trusting heaven and knowing "something isnt right here" in regards to the fall-- HOLD UP "I know, someone had to go, If not him it'd be me instead" HELLO??? aziraphale asking for jophiel??? is this like after he finds out what azazels name used to be??

flowers never bend with the rainfall: hmm... i feel like this is a plot point song. not sure why. but "And I hide behind the shield of my illusion" makes me think it pertains to azazel

bird in space: oh this ones a bit tricky. i think ive reached the songs that no longer fit the lore we've been given thus far. so the only thing i can think rn is jophiel enjoying earthly pleasures? not rlly sure

angel, won't you call me?: oh fuckkk is this about a fight they have? "I fled at the face of my rival. When I felt his breath at the back of my neck. Angel, won't you call?" theres no way that isnt about azazel saying smth and then leaving, only to be scared he severed his tie to the only person thats been nice to him.

the stranger: first of this is a bop and im loving it. very groovy. the first thing that comes to mind is the "choose your faces wisely" prophecy. ooo is this about jophiel trying to convince azazel hes still meant to be an angel? that he wasnt meant to fall? also, the last verse is sticking out to me... not sure why

all i think about now: fuckkkkk this is giving me the vibes of jophiel finding out azazel Fell cuz of him and feeling guilty about it. "If I'm late, can I thank you now?" FUCKING OW?? oh yeah for sure this is about jophiel finding out and being sucker punched with guilt

ill be your mirror: oh goddd this song. i know crowley listens to this song but i cant remember what its about so lets see. AH SHIT YEAH THATS RIGHT. okay so jophiel reminds azazel that he is inherently good, regardless of if hes a demon. thats what im getting from this (also just tihnking of that ask i sent about the reflective sunglasses bthwjegkrw)

me and my husband: okay all im getting from this is "they r down bad". they r very very very much in love. getting vibes of this being after they stop the apocolypse. or maybe their feelings developing thru the centuries

time in a bottle: oh man this song always gets me. okay so, this and the last song r giving the oh-shit-i-might-be-in-love vibes. but this one is with jophiel's pov, while me and my husband is azazel's

ritz note: the last couple songs have been cute and lovey and i am now terrified of what the next ones r gonna be. cuz i know this fandom. and i am not ready for the pain. i am afraidddd

lonesome town: i fucking called it i knew the happy wouldnt last 😭😭 they had a fight didnt they. yeahhh they had a fight. FUCK why is this so sad but so pretty

across the universe: is this one sad too??? hang on theres a bit thats not in english, what does that mean... "Hail to the Heavenly Teacher." okay so i assume this is an azazel song. this is just making me think of the bookshop fire, but its azazel thinking jophiel died 😭 ....i am staring at the lyircs. i am glaring at the lyrics. this song MEANS something. i just dont know what. but its important. im squinting at it very hard (note: i came back to this song and am STILL glaring at it. its like. its like im seeing it covered in sand but i know theres gold underneath. i cant SEE the gold, but i know its there. this is driving me nuts /pos)

no wonder i: hm.. im not rlly sure with this one. OH?? is this azazel finding out heaven isnt that good?? "Suddenly I'm not so sure. That intentions can be pure." hmmmmmmm

what do they know?: holy shit okay this is a completely different kind of song than the others. im.... glaring at these lyrics too. feels like a plot point but cant tell what it is. i think its about jophiel? maybe heaven too?? idk im grasping at straws with this one

sea of love: oh yay a happy song again 😌 okay this is just short and sweet. gives me forgiveness and/or confession vibes.

who are you, really?: this one sounds important and i am glaring!! makes me think of "we dont need heaven we dont need hell" and also "a demon/angel that goes along with hell/heaven as far as he can". also just makes me think of jophiel speaking.

the moon will sing: i fucking love this song but i dont think ive ever looked at the lyrics so lets goooo. right away i see "I could have been anyone, anyone else. Before you made the choice for me" and think of aziraphale asking and falling for jophiel, and in a way making the choice of jophiel staying an angel. "Instead, I made a bed with apathy" jophiel trying not to care about a random demon. "I shine only with the light you gave me" jophiel giving azazel ideas on how to do "good" while being "bad". also with that line, thinking of azazel saying that to god and being sad about having fallen AUGHH i have a whole animatic in my head with this song and im losing my mind

matephor: hnnnn another important sounding song. jophiel vibes. fight song perhaps?? "Don't look too hard 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me" azazel vibes??? this one is elusive to me but i love it. okay im slowly getting more azazel vibes. like azazel trying to convince jophiel that he is a demon and fell for a reason

providence: right away getting "heaven and hell r bad" vibes. OHH okay okay this is giving me hella jophiel vibes, but specificly snarky and sassy jophiel vibes. of being like "oh yes heaven is oh so great, we kill children! but its for the greater good, of course. gotta beat hell and all that, even at the cost of innocents. all for the almighty and her ineffable plan." (this song is a bop omg)

earth angel: oh i know this one but only with crowley and aziraphale, so im excited to listen to it with an oopsie omens mind set. omg wait why does it hit HARDER. love sick azazel is such a cute image 🥺🥰

what more can i do: hmm.. them being in love but knowing its "forbidden"? cant tell who i imagine with it more

starman: this is just them. classic good omens song, regardless of the au. love to see it 💖

a pearl: AH FUCK ANOTHER SAD ONE. mitski whyy. hm.. azazel song? jophiel?? i think jophiel... tho my mind might be turning to mush at this point so im not sure. one of them is sad

duvet: oh def azazel vibes. oh maybe some jophiel vibes too?? i can see it swaping povs. i think it fits azazel more tho.

ritz note: OKAY the next song is in a different language and for a split second i legit thought i was having a stroke when i pulled up the lyrics ngl bgkewrrkjq

différent de toi: no idea what this song is about but its pretty 😊

oh thats all of them! i think the first half is more coherent observations, while the second half is just... rambling a bit lmao. idk if any of this makes sense. i might also be looking for things that arent there with these songs, but oh well. this was fun!

and now, after looking back at them all, i really does just slowly derail near the end lmao

[nomizombie]

fanboy!König x rockstar!Reader (Part III) 🎸🎤🎶

[SFW/Fluff/Wholesome] ; basically a date with könig, loads of awkward moments, gender neutral, no usage of yn, written in 2nd person, please excuse my non proof read work

[A/N] ; 2nd poll winner!! Honestly had a lot of ideas for this part but i think könig would start off slow with a little cafe session and then of course, as per the AU he must be super into the rock scene!!, hes totally bringing reader to some underground rock concert >:)

Part I . Part II . Part III

(ill add the links later, for now just find my fanboy!könig tag and u shud be good)

You wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating and the familiar tune of your ringtone. Your favourite song. It’s a catchy tune that you heard a few years ago and never seemed to get out of your head.

Rolling over in bed, you pick it up lazily, holding it to your ear as you force out a groggy ‘good morning’. You almost cringe at how raspy it comes out.

Expecting the sound of your manager’s nagging, your eyes filled with shock as his voice came through; quiet and just a little flustered.

“Your voice is deep… in the morning.” He smiles across the line.

“Sorry..? König?!” It was like a bucket of ice cold water was just poured on you. You sit up in bed instantly and glance at the ticking clock on your wall.

10:36AM

You were late to meet König.

“Oh shit-shit-shit-shit!” Your feet immediately scramble off your mattress, phone pressed between your shoulder and head as you rushed to brush your teeth.

“Its okay I dont mind. Maybe i shouldve picked the evening instead.” He said, “I know you had a late show last night.”

You responded back, muffled, which released a slew of laughter on the other end.

“Perhaps I should hang up? You sound a little busy.” He snickered.

You furiously refused through your toothpaste filled teeth.

“Ill be there soon!” You said as your gurgled.

By the time you had pulled your shoes on, it was already 10:47 AM. Guilt clouded your mind as you recalled that he initially set the time for ten in the morning. You had kept him waiting for over half an hour.

Rushing out the door, you let out another string of apologies, panting because of course, your cardio sucks.

By the time you reached the cafe, you were a sweaty heaving mess. Not the best way to start your first date. Was it even a date? The two of you are just friends. It was a friend… date. König sat in the corner, fittingly, staring at his phone as he softly drummed his fingers on the arm rests of his chair. He noticed you immediately, eyes crinkling as he motioned for you to sit across of him.

“Hello.” he smiled.

He wore a simple white shirt with some band name you had never heard of. I guess he’s into underground music? Over that was a puffy black zip up hoodie. His jeans were a sleek navy blue and he wore a leather satchel, the same one he brought to your first fan signing. Wow, it’s like he’s never even heard of colour.

“Hi.” You waved, grinning from ear to ear as you made your way over to him.

As you plopped your butt down on the leather seats, he pushed a cup of coffee towards you.

“You probably need it. You must be tired.”

Grabbing it, you thanked him before downing the whole cup in one go. Once you put the cup down, your eyes drifted back to him and his black face mask.

“No balaclava today?” You asked curiously, licking at the froth around your lips. He stared at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth before lifting back up. This was the first time you had seen his hair. It was fluffy, wavy, and a deep auburn shade.

“The barista would’ve thought I was trying to rob them.” His eyes crinkled.

You giggled thinking about it. But then, eyes focused back on his hair and the way it bounced when he laughed. You really really wanted to thread your fingers through it. It would be so soft and fluffy wouldn’t it?

König was no fool. He could see the way your eyes continuously kept going back to his head. As time passed and the two of you kept chatting, you were starting to get more and more obvious about it.

Eventually he just bit the bullet and asked you.

“Is there something wrong… with my hair?” He said, a confused but nervous look in his eyes.

Your eyes immediately widened and whatever you were about to say was stuck in your throat.

You laughed.

“No, no! Its just… It looks so soft.” A gentle smile appeared on your face.

König’s eyebrows rose a little before he averted his gaze.

“You can try… touching it.” His voice came out meek.

Oh god did he really just say that?

“Touching it?” You said, surprised and a little happy that he was starting to come out of his shell. However, while he may have been able to pick up on your incessant staring, the same cant be said for your tone of voice.

“Oh but, only if you want to, of course. Just a suggestion. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Forget that I asked.”

“No! I want to.” You adamantly nodded your head.

His eyes widened and he pursed his lips. He slowly leaned over, pushing his head towards you.

“Okay… here goes nothing.”

You giggled before placing your palm on his scalp, gently running your fingers through the thick locks.

“Its softer than I imagined.” You grinned.

His ears turned a light shade of red.

“Thank… you..” He said quietly.

“Its like petting my dog back home.”

“You have a dog?” His ears perked up.

“Wow, my biggest fan doesn’t know I have a dog? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” You teased, reviling in the embarrassed expression that appeared on König’s face.

“Oh I- I just-“ he stammered. How could he not know! What a horrible fan he was!

You laughed, calming his anxiety.

“Well, now you know.”

He smiled awkwardly back, making a mental note to add to your wikipedia page for the twenty seventh time and make an edit to the trivia section. But, you didnt have to know that.

“How about you? Have any pets?”

He looked to the side, thought for a moment before responding.

“I had a goldfish.. im not sure if that counts…”

You laughed again.

“Well? What was its name?”

“I called it Frankie, because I had a friend named that.”

“Oh really? Should i name my goldfish König then?” You snickered.

“I wouldn’t mind it..” he said, oblivious to your teasing.

You snicked once more. He was really fun to be around? This date was going so well… Date? This was a date? No way this was just a friendly hangout between two friends who are super friendly! This cant be a date no, no, no-

“Are you okay?” He interrupted your train of thought, quickly pulling you back down to reality.

“Oh- um.” You reddened, “i was just thinking… this isnt a date is it?”

He immediately turned a bright shade of red as well. Stuttering, he replied as calmly as he could. His leg shook even harder underneath the table, rhythmically banging against the underside and shaking your cup.

“Do you want it to be?” He couldnt bare to look at your reaction so he turned his head downwards, nervously fidgeting with his thumbs. When had he gotten so bold? What was he saying!? He was moving too fast. He was going to mess this up and-

“Yeah.” You smiled, in that charming upside down way where your eyes did the work while your mouth curved downwards.

He blushed even further, ears turning red as a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Oh for god sake, the two of you were in an air conditioned building.

He grinned wildly under his mask. Silence shrouded the two of you until he decided to pipe up again.

“You should come with me.”

“Come with you?”

“To a concert. Today. Now.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously. You weren’t aware of any concerts happening this week.

“Your idea of a date?”

He hummed in response, eliciting a grin from you.

“Let’s go.”

ty for reading!! this post took a while since i was procrastinating writing it 😭

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Bruised Figure

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason aspires to become a figure skater despite obstacles in his personal life.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Catherine Todd, Willis Todd, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain

Additional Tags: Figure Skater AU, Chronically Ill Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Three: Coach

Jason was twelve when Catherine passed away. During this time, he spent most of his hours skating. He continued to break into ice rinks all over Gotham, even well into the summer, and when he couldn't, he would rollerblade around Gotham, searching for empty lots to practice his turns and leaps. Jason spent most of his days skating and nights trying to live alone in his parents' abandoned apartment. One night, in particular, he left the rink feeling as if he were being followed, and he heard a boy call him a name in the alley. He'd been called worse, but Jason knew better than to keep his back turned to the voice. He turned around, and the boy smiled at him. "Hey, Ice Princess!" the boy yelled. Jason held out his arms. "Wanna make somethin' of it?" Jason asked. The older boy laughed, and Jason knew why. Jason was smaller than most of the kids his age, and because of that, he was a target for teasing. He was used to it. The boy lunged forward, and Jason punched him in the stomach and face in quick succession. The boy hunched over, coughing while taking a fighting stance. "Come on. I thought you wanted to fight? Fight!" Jason yelled as he stood back, waiting for the other boy to get up. The older boy got up and swung on Jason and missed before Jason punched him in the face a second time. The boy hit Jason once and busted his lip. Jason watched as the boy staggered back, and he punched him once more in the stomach. "Come on!" Jason yelled, and the boy shook his head dizzily. Jason stood straight, his back to the alley wall as the older boy scurried off. Once the boy was gone, he relaxed his shoulders. A phone rang at the end of the alley, and Jason jumped. The man held up a hand as he approached. "I don't want to fight. I actually wanted to see if we could talk-." Jason swung his arm to strike the man before realizing who he was. "You're Bruce Wayne," Jason whispered. Bruce nodded. "What do you wanna talk to me for?"

"Do you have a minute to talk about the Olympics?" Bruce asked. Jason wrinkled his forehead as he raised his eyebrows. "Or maybe we can talk to your parents about how you've been breaking into my rink?" Jason wiped his bottom lip with his sleeve. "My parents are dead... What's all this about the Olympics? I'm nobody," Jason replied. Bruce stared at him and shook his head. "Let's go inside... You like pizza?" Bruce questioned. Jason nodded and followed him back inside. Jason sat at a table as all the other kids exited the now-closed ice rink. Bruce went to the kitchen and came back with half a pizza. "Who are you staying with?" "Nobody," Jason whispered, "Now, what's all this about the Olympics?" "Well, that changes the nature of the conversation, doesn't it? Maybe I should ask if you're interested in the Olympics or competitive figure skating," Bruce replied. Jason nodded as he started eating. "Actually, scratch that, would you like to come and live with me?" Jason finished chewing and looked at Bruce with big eyes. "You don't even know my name, and you want me to come live with you?" Jason asked. Bruce nodded. "I'd like to know your name at some point, though," Bruce whispered, "I'd be a tough coach, but you'd have your own room." Jason hesitated.

"I'm Jason... Why are you interested in me?" Jason asked. Bruce's eyes widened. "You've got a wonderful gift," Bruce answered, "But you need coaching." Jason ate another slice of pizza. "Okay," Jason answered. "It wouldn't be easy. You get up at four, and you're in bed by eight. You give me two hours in the morning and three at night," Bruce replied, "Off-ice, on-ice, school, on-ice, ballet, and off-ice again..." "How long would I get to be on the ice?" Jason asked. "About three hours, maybe four," Bruce replied as he ate a slice of pizza. "Jason." "I love the ice," Jason whispered, "If I can compete, I will." "And if you decide not to compete, I'll still continue to be your guardian," Bruce reassured, "And you wouldn't have to fight anyone on your way home." Jason chuckled and nodded. "Deal," Jason replied as he ate his third and last slice of pizza. "Mr. Wayne?" "Yes, Jason?" Bruce whispered. Jason wiped his hands on a napkin and looked up at Bruce. "I'm not one to quit. Even if I'm not the best, I'll just keep trying. I'll never give up," Jason whispered. Bruce cleaned up the table, and he went to the kitchen. Jason waited for a few minutes for Bruce to return before going on the ice. Jason thought that maybe Bruce wanted to change his mind, but that didn't matter. He knew he was good enough. "Tighten up your core!" Bruce yelled. Jason smiled without thinking and straightened his posture. "I wanna see a little more bend in those knees!" Jason concealed his smile and made the corrections as Bruce made them. Something about Bruce Wayne's way of barking commands made Jason feel encouraged. The lights flickered after thirty minutes, and Bruce got Jason off the ice. "I'm terrible, right?" Jason joked. Bruce chuckled. "I've never seen an athlete that liked being yelled at," Bruce laughed. Jason shrugged. "Maybe it's how you yelled, Coach," Jason whispered. Bruce led him through the alley to the car. Jason sat in the backseat and curled up. It wasn't long before he fell asleep. Bruce carried him upstairs to a vacant bedroom, where he dressed Jason in pajamas and tucked him into bed. It was the deepest and most tranquil sleep Jason had experienced since Catherine died. He slept on his back with one hand on his chest and another over his face. His breathing was deep, and his dreams were comforting. Bruce, however, did not sleep. He kept watch over the child's dreams.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4286

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, go to the story's masterlist

17. A Homecoming

This Chapter: “You cried. Even when you were coming. The way that you shivered, the way you let me have you then, it was so gorgeous. You’re always gorgeous, Bucky ... I love you."

Bucky dreads the journey back across the Atlantic, moderately convinced that he’ll experience sea sickness, just like before. Steve reminds him that he hadn’t been seasick before, just ill, but the illogical part of Bucky’s brain keeps him nervous nonetheless.

Five days at sea prove Bucky wrong and Steve right, but when the ship docks in the D.C. Harbor, Bucky still steps onto solid ground with a sigh of relief.

It’s nearly noon. Steve says he has business to attend to and that they’ll stop by his offices, then spend the night in the city before leaving for New York in the morning. It isn’t until Steve hails a cab for them that Bucky realizes where this means they’ll be going.

It’s bittersweet, being in the capitol. Bucky is silent for the car ride through the city, eyeing the neoclassical buildings that he used to frequent himself as a young boy, when he’d tag along on infrequent but exciting visits to D.C. He’d been an heir to something then, and his father had brought him along on those trips to educate him, show him what he was to inherit someday. Bucky had been proud of that.

The hardest bit, of course, is stepping out of the car with Steve and going into the Senate office complex. They pass by the quarters of the New Jersey Seats, and Bucky feels his feet falter when he sees the door where his father’s chambers were—Were, because the brass plate with the Barnes’ name and House crest have been taken down, a pale spot of wall left in its wake. Bucky swallows heavily, thinking about his mother and sisters all of a sudden, thinking about whose name will replace theirs on the wall.

“Buck,”—Steve’s soft voice, his hand on Bucky’s left one. Even through the dullness of the nerve damage, Bucky can feel the gentle squeeze that he gives. “Come on, I’m right down this way.”

Bucky allows Steve to move him past the New Jersey Seats’ offices, and they continue on until they reach another door. Bucky eyes the Rogers’ House crest: a star within two concentric circles. The Barnes’ crest isn’t—wasn’t, Bucky reminds himself, there is no House Barnes anymore—so dissimilar. A red star in a circle of silver, angled lines across. Steve’s star is white, the crest red white and blue, just like the flag. Bucky trails into the office after Steve, figuring that this is his crest now, too.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Steve tells him. “I just have to catch up on a few things I missed while we were away.”

Bitterly, Bucky thinks about how Steve had managed to find time to telegram his vote for George Barnes’ impeachment. He holds his tongue, however. Steve has been kind to him since the night they left Istanbul, almost coddling. Bucky hasn’t known how to feel about that. He vacillates between shy acceptance and righteous indignation. But the acceptance has been winning out. He’s not sure how to feel about that, either. “Kay,” he says in response to Steve, vaguely uncomfortable with how naturally the deference to his Alpha comes.

Steve pecks a kiss to his forehead, then goes over and starts speaking with his secretary. The secretary is sharp as a tack, immediately jumping into business and handing Steve stacks of papers. Bucky watches, distracted from the particulars of their conversation by the sight of the secretary himself.

He’s a married omega, judging by his stature and dress. Bucky’s interest is piqued, and he steps closer. The man is middle-aged, hair receding at the corners in a way that forebodes future baldness. He’s got a collar that’s simple and shows just the slightest bit over his work clothes. Bucky glances up to Steve, enthused that his husband would hire any omega, let alone a married one.

Does Steve hold more liberal ideas than Bucky has been assuming? It’s a possibility that makes Bucky’s heart beat a little faster, as he thinks of how far Steve’s allowances might extend, of what this might mean for Bucky in their marriage. What if Steve thinks that married Betas should be able to work, too? After all, employing an omega is quite radical, and a married beta working outside the home is hardly anything compared to that. Bucky’s lips part as he thinks of it, watches the secretary go back to writing once Steve moves away. Is it too much to dream that Steve would let him attend college? Or maybe even—

“Buck.”

Bucky sucks in a breath, startled out of his thoughts. “Mm?”

Steve is tilting his head at the other door. “My office.”

They go in, the door snicking softly shut behind them. Bucky looks around while Steve drops all the papers onto his desk and sits down to deal with them. Steve’s office is darker than most other rooms in the capitol, the décor less formal. He’s wallpapered it in deep green, the bookshelves that line either side of the fireplace are mahogany, and instead of the standard pair of conversation sofas and end tables, there is simply a leather chair and matching chaise. Bucky instantly likes the room. It feels cozy.

“You can sit,” Steve offers from over at his desk. He’s reading his mail, a pen poised loosely in one hand. “The books are boring, mostly law, but poke around if you want.”

Bucky nods, not looking away from the sight of Steve at his desk. He’s never seen him at work before, fulfilling his role as a Senator. Bucky studies his husband: the crease of his brow as he focuses in on whatever he’s reading, the way his eyes squint, how the corners of his mouth turn down sometimes. It’s attractive, endearing even. Steve takes his duties seriously, that much is evident. Something about it makes Bucky both jealous and mildly affectionate. His husband is a good man ...

He scowls at himself and turns to the bookshelves, determined to distract himself from fawning over Steve doing a job that should rightfully be Bucky’s as well. He scans the book titles, scowling a little more with what he has to choose from. Steve hasn’t lied—the majority of the spines are well over three inches wide, with titles and roman numerals indicating many volumes and sections of law. Despite his upbringing, Bucky has never felt fascinated by the study of law. Still, he doesn’t want to make Steve think that he’s only interested in silly novels, so he avoids the small section of slimmer paperback books down the way. He eventually settles on a volume of nautical history and sits with it, skimming over the boring sections to read about the wars. He pauses at an illustrated page: a photograph of a battle between enemy ships in the war with Mexico—the nation’s most recent conflict, and a war in which Steve fought.

"First photograph ever captured of a naval battle," the caption reads. Bucky’s eyes dart over to Steve at his desk, then back to the page. The image is grainy, not as well-developed as current photos would be, obviously taken years ago and clearly in a less than optimal conditions. The ships are bulky, ugly looking things. Black smoke curls into the air from recent gunfire, and men can be seen floating in the water, some clearly dead, but some not.

Bucky thinks about Steve and his full military title: Captain Lord Steven Grant of House Rogers. The import of a nobleman’s military rank cannot be overstated. One’s rank—if they have it—always comes first in their title. High Nobility of the Senate and lower Society of Congress can’t be drafted. So if they serve, it's only ever by choice.

Bucky looks back at Steve, staring at him openly now. He tries to imagine Steve younger: ten, or even twelve years ago. He’dve been eighteen then, just old enough to enlist and probably racing to do so, patriotic as he is. He'd barely been out of boyhood before he'd signed up for a war and been given an automatic rank of something high enough to merit a gentleman of Society.

Bucky thinks about that, about what it would have meant for Steve at such a young age, having to deal with all the responsibility, the fighting and the killing. Bucky’s an appropriately educated young man. He knows how ugly the war was, how much carnage and death there'd been, with the advent of new weapons that increased the carnage of war exponentially. He’s never bothered to think of Steve’s history very much, and he finds that he hates imagining Steve in the middle of all that chaos and suffering. He thinks of how Steve's told him that he sometimes has nightmares from it ...

Stop, he tells himself. Stop building him up like he's some great hero. He's just a man, and a lucky one at that. He's one of the most privileged citizens in the entire country, and he'll never have to bow down to an Alpha Headship.

Bucky snaps the book shut perhaps a bit too harshly, and Steve’s head pops up at the sound. "Everything okay?"

Bucky shrugs and gets up to place the book back on the shelf. "Yes."

“Sorry,” Steve says, smiling apologetically. “I won’t be too long, I promise. Then we can go home.”

“'Home',” Bucky echoes. “Where’s that?” House Barnes had always kept apartments in the capitol, but never anything that felt like a home.

“Georgetown,” Steve says. “Decatur House was my mother’s favorite residence.” His eyelashes lower as he looks down, smiling wistfully in a way that tugs on some string in Bucky’s chest. “She had to be in D.C. so often, so my fathers went out of their way to make it into a home for her. They loved her so much. Renovated the whole house just to try and make her happy.”

Bucky wonders if that’s a veiled statement aimed at himself. “Do you like it better here, then?”

Steve looks at him with a fond smirk. “There’s no place like home, and there's no home like Brooklyn.”

Decatur House is grand, no doubt, though far homier than Steve’s London or Paris apartments had been. It’s late when they enter and the servants take their coats and luggage. Bucky feels quite exhausted. He makes his way upstairs and finds what must be the master bedroom. He looks around, pausing when he opens a pocket door and discovers what he knows is a little room for …

“It’s a nesting closet,” Steve says softly. He’s right behind bucky, having arrived somewhere in the last moment.

Bucky tenses, feeling caught for looking into the tiny room. It’s hardly bigger than an actual closet, and there are no linens or other items inside. It’s bare, but he's well aware of it’s intended use. If he and Steve ever found an omega, they’d hole up in here, take turns fucking him (or her), satisfying them through their heat. Steve would get their omega pregnant. And they’d give birth in there. The tiny room would carry all three of their scents. Nesting closets are the most intimate places in a household, even more so than the marriage bed.

Bucky bites his lip, looking inside. “You want children?” he asks. “One day?”

Steve is quiet, but then he inches closer and wraps his arms around Bucky's waist, looking over his shoulder at the bare nesting closet. “Yeah," he says softly. "I do. Do you?”

Bucky shrugs, not sure why that should matter. If his Headship wants a dozen children, that’s his prerogative. Betas, and especially male Betas like Bucky, get no say in such matters. And anyway, he and Steve will need to find their Third for that, first. “I dunno,” he mumbles, sliding out of Steve’s hold and heading towards the ensuite bathroom. He heaves a sigh at the sight of the overly large porcelain tub. Yes.

He inhales in surprise when Steve comes up behind him again, hands landing at his waist and drawing their bodies back together. Steve kisses the side of his head. “Tired?”

Bucky hums and fights off a yawn. “Thought I’d get a bath,” he says.

“Care if I join you?” Steve’s hands rub up and down his sides. He kisses at his neck and murmurs, “I’d like to be close tonight.”

Bucky shivers, feeling heat flush through him. The tone of Steve’s voice when he says that ... It gets to Bucky. He exhales slowly, trying not to show his nerves. He’s a married man, now, for christ's sake. His husband making his intentions obvious shouldn’t be enough to get Bucky blushing—it shouldn’t. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Okay.”

They haven’t been together since that night in Turkey, when Steve disciplined him. It hasn’t been bad between them since then, they just haven’t had sex.

Bucky’s feeling more awake now, as he watches Steve pass him into the bathroom and undress. He's just as handsome as ever, and Bucky forgets to be shy as he bites his lip and drinks in the sight of the Alpha's body.

He’s pulled from his perusal when Steve, fully nude, chuckles and comes over to him. “Hey. You see something you like?” he teases, reaching for Bucky’s shirt. Bucky nods and Steve smiles indulgently as he undresses him. Thankfully, the house’s gas lighting is kept low enough at this hour to prevent Bucky from feeling like he needs to turn his bad side away. Steve’s seen it all by now, anyhow, and he apparently still wants to be married, still wants to see Bucky naked and touch him and ...

“Here.” Steve is gently taking his wrists, removing his wedding bands one at a time and placing them carefully atop the vanity. His thumbs rub gently along the skin where the metal rested before. "Better?"

Bucky swallows heavily at the look Steve’s giving him: dark, wanting. "Yeah," he rasps. "Thanks."

“Come on,” Steve says kindly. “You get the water hot, I’ll grab towels.”

"Okay."

Steve pads to the other side of the bathroom, giving him a moment of space. Bucky screws his eyes shut, wondering when the hell he’ll ever get used to being intimate this way. Soon, he hopes. It's embarrassing to feel so virginal with his more experienced husband.

He turns the tap, skimming the fingers of his left hand under the water until he can sense that it’s warming. He switches to his right hand then, not confident that the left can gauge when the temperature gets too high. A twist of the cold water tap adjusts it to what he deems acceptable, and Bucky plugs the drain, climbing in and sitting forward in the tub without really thinking about it. Steve gets in and sits behind him, and Bucky forces himself to lean back. Steve’s body is hard and warm, his knees coming up a little to cradle him at either side. The water rises, creeping higher up their bodies, and Bucky sighs as the warmth gradually envelops them. It's heavenly.

Steve groans. “God, I’ve missed a proper-sized tub.”

“Yeah.” On the ship and even in Europe, the tubs were all tiny. He and Steve can fit together in this one with no trouble at all. Bucky lets his head tip back to rest against Steve’s shoulder. “S’nice." Steve’s hands find his hips, fingers trailing over the points of his hipbones, moving in to just barely skim the edge of where his pubic hair starts before traveling up either side of his ribcage. Bucky shivers, pretends it’s due to the temperature difference of the air and the still-shallow bath water. “Mmm,” he sighs, closing his eyes and relaxing into the touches.

Steve strokes up and down his sides, one hand rubbing over his abs and the other going up to his chest. “I’ve missed this,” he says. His voice is right against Bucky’s ear. “It’s been too long since I’ve touched you.”

“It’s only been a week,” Bucky murmurs.

“Too long.”

“Mm, yeah.” He thinks back to the spanking, and the sex they’d had afterwards, that night in Turkey. Under the bath water, he feels his cock start to harden. “I’ve felt … I dunno, shy, maybe. Around you. Since that night.”

Steve kisses his neck at the admission, humming as if he already knew that. He probably did. “Yeah. I figured as much.”

Oddly, Bucky finds himself wanting to talk about it as Steve keeps touching him. “I’ve never been punished like that,” he says.

Steve hums curiously. “Discipline wasn’t administered in your Household?”

“No, it was. We just never …” Bucky swallows, remembering the bite of Steve’s belt. “Corporal punishment was rare, I suppose. My parents were lax.” He knows that many—if not most—of Society would disapprove of just how lax his upbringing had been. “I was never spanked but a handful of times.” Steve snorts, and Bucky's lips quirk, too. “It's true. And never anything but a hand over the clothes."

"I see." Steve’s hand that’s been touching his abs moves lower, finding his cock in the water. Bucky inhales shakily and Steve kisses his neck again and whispers, “How did it make you feel?” He starts stroking him with the barest amount of pressure.

“The, um ... spanking? erm, b-belt?”

“Yes.”

Bucky glances down to Steve’s hand wrapped around him, heat gathering in his cheeks as he admits, “Scared, at first. But mostly … mostly embarrassed I guess.”

Steve makes an understanding noise. His hand gets a little tighter. “You’re not naturally submissive,” he says.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. I like your headstrong attitude.” He chuckles and presses his erection against Bucky’s backside. “It’s attractive, usually.”

“Usually."

“Mmhm. Not when you put yourself in danger though. That’s why I punished you.”

“I know.” Perversely, the reminder from Steve about his authority over him only makes Bucky's belly swirl harder. He feels embarrassment at remembering being punished, but ... not entirely in a bad way. He licks his lips, eyes glued to Steve's hand around his cock. “After," he says. "When you ... when you had sex with me."

“Mmhm?” Steve gives him a long, tight stroke and Bucky moans softly.

“It was so …” he struggles to find the words, partly because of what Steve’s doing between his legs, and partly because it'd been so confusing, that night. "It was good.”

“Yeah?" Steve purrs. He swipes his thumb over the head of Bucky's dick, then gives a slow squeeze. "You liked me taking control? Reminding you who your Headship is?”

"Ohn." Bucky moans and nods. “Y-yeah.” Steve’s right: he’s not naturally submissive the way an omega or even some betas would be. But having Steve assert his control still feels good sometimes. Admitting this to Steve—and to himself—is hard. It’s also getting him off. “It hurt," he whispers. "A lot.”

“It was supposed to.”

“But after, it was good. You made me feel so good. I came and, and …” he trails off as Steve’s stroking becomes faster and more purposeful. “Oh, yeah. Steve, please.”

“You cried,” Steve says, voice a little rougher from his own arousal. “Even when you were coming.” He nips Bucky’s neck, scraping his teeth across the skin. “The way that you shivered, the way you let me have you then, it was so gorgeous.” Bucky starts to come, tipping over the edge from Steve’s words and releasing underneath the water. He grunts in surprise, knows that Steve knows he’s coming because his hand gentles and then eases off. “You’re always gorgeous,” he whispers. “Bucky, I want …”

“Yeah,” Bucky pants, catching his breath after the sudden orgasm. Suddenly, the warm bathwater holds little interest. He struggles up to standing in the tub, legs feeling like jelly. “Come on.”

They dry off hastily and kiss their way into the bedroom. Bucky is sated and lazy by the time Steve draws him down onto the bed, but he enjoys the kissing and warm, full-body connection of their skin. He thinks maybe he can get hard again in a little bit. “Want you,” he tells Steve between kisses, hands running up and down his damp back. “Want to feel you inside me tonight.”

Steve nods and rubs down harder, his cock insistent against Bucky’s belly. “Yeah?”

They make out some more, pawing all over each other until Bucky starts to feel that telltale thrum of pleasure building up again. He twists partway out from under Steve to reach for the bedside drawer. … But it’s empty. His heart sinks and he looks back at Steve. “There’s not any … any slick,” he whispers, embarrassed.

“Ugh.” Steve groans and gives him a placating kiss before rolling away to go into the closet. Bucky can hear him rummaging through their suitcases, before he returns triumphantly with a small jar of lubricant. He's grinning as he settles in between Bucky’s spread legs and wets his hand, reaching down to pass fingers over his hole. Bucky gasps, and Steve’s eyes flick up to his. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, overly sensitive to Steve’s gentle fingers, and annoyed that they need the lube at all. He's the only iteration of a Spouse Steve would ever have to go to this trouble with, after all. A female beta would be easy and natural just like a male or female omega would, but with Bucky, it's work. “Just wish I could do it myself," he mumbles, face hot.

Steve's distracted where he's staring down at what he’s doing, eyes dark with arousal. “Do what?” he asks, pressing in with that first finger and humming when it makes Bucky sigh.

“Slick up,” Bucky says quietly, closing his eyes because this is embarrassing to admit. “Feel my body get wet for you. Open up easily, or ... be in heat”

Steve completely freezes, his body stiffening up.

Bucky opens his eyes, and sure enough, Steve is staring in surprise. Bucky instantly regrets what he’s said. “I mean, it's not, I don’t …” Steve isn’t looking away and Bucky wants to die. “Nevermind,” he mumbles. "That's stupid."

“No,” Steve says emphatically, only the tone of his voice isn't reproachful or shocked; it's turned on. Bucky can see it in his eyes, fell it in how eager he gets, how he thrusts his finger all the way in and curls it. Bucky gasps and Steve hums, "Yeah." He lies over him, tongue dipping into his mouth on the next kiss, bossy and eager. “Bucky, Honey," he says, rocking his hips down. "That’s so hot.” He keeps moving his finger, stroking over that spot that makes sparks dance up Bucky's spine. “You really fantasize about that?”

Bucky whines in mortification, but he nods. “Yeah.” They’ve never done this before, never talked about the things that they imagine. He feels relief flood him at Steve’s obvious acceptance. It gives him the confidence to admit, “I just like the idea of ... of being easy for you. You know? Wish you could just ... slip inside." He blushes as he whispers that last, though Steve's groan bolsters his confidence enough for him to say, "I want to be able to share that with you.”

Steve kisses him passionately and nods. He starts to add another finger and goes slow as he presses in. “You are. God, Honey, you’re so good for me. So good. Got no idea. I love you.”

Bucky tenses, and then so does Steve as he realizes what he’s said. For a second, it feels like Bucky's breath has been stolen away, as he blinks up at Steve, mouth working, trying to figure out what to say back to that. “You … you love me?” he whispers.

Steve looks vaguely afraid, but he doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I do.” He nods solemnly, easing his fingers further inside. “I do, Buck.”

Bucky is honestly too flabbergasted to worry about saying it back. The thought doesn't even occur to him. He moans quietly and pulls Steve down for another, heated kiss, pushing down against his hand and the fingers inside him. Steve's body loses its tension, no longer worried that he’s upset Bucky with the declaration. When they part from the kiss, Bucky says, “I want to take your knot.”

Steve’s eyes widen, but Bucky doesn’t miss the flash of lust that he quickly tries to hide. “Bucky …”

“Yes,” Bucky urges. He grinds down against Steve’s hand. “I can take it. You can make me loose enough.” He kisses him hotly, dominating, trying to show how eager he is for it. “I want to feel it, please. I want to give that to you.”

Steve groans, pained. “Baby, no. I can’t. We can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.” Bucky whines and starts to argue again, but Steve shushes him and gives a pointed rub against his prostate, smiling at Bucky’s helpless moan. “You already give me everything I want,” he tells him. “You let me inside your sweet body. Do you have any idea how hot that is? How much that gets to me?”

Bucky shudders. “But if you could—”

“No, Buck. I won’t.” Steve mashes their mouths together in a firm command, clearly ordering Bucky to shut up about being knotted. “It’s enough just knowing that you want to make me feel good like that,” he promises. “I can’t tell you how amazing that is. Makes me want you so bad.” Between Bucky’s legs, his hand pulls away, leaving him empty. Bucky whines at the loss, but Steve shushes him and slots between his legs, holding the head of his cock to his entrance, rubbing it around in the slick. “I love you, Bucky,” he says again, this time with far more confidence than before. He’s bright-eyed, making Bucky feel so desired, so wanted. He almost wants to say it back …

Steve presses forward, slipping in with a quick flash of pain. Bucky gasps and clings to him, pushing down against it, taking more, accepting Steve inside his body. He breathes out in a surprised little ‘Oh’, when Steve settles in him all the way, and it’s so good. Heat floods him when Steve makes a very satisfied rumble in return.

“You see? You’re perfect,” he husks, grinding deep in his body and kissing his neck. “You feel so good, Beta.”

Bucky flushes at the title, smiling despite himself. Steve has always managed to make him feel significant in that way, as if just the two of them are special—an Alpha and Beta without their Third. He wraps himself around Steve, hands in his hair and knees tucked around his waist, moving with him as Steve begins to roll his hips. Bucky moans quietly as the pleasure continues to build. Before long, he's clenching his eyes shut as he gets too close, too fast. “Wait, wait, wait,” he pants, squirming underneath Steve, trying to get him to stop that perfect rhythm. It's too soon. “Wait, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good,” Steve rasps, not stopping. “Open your eyes, Honey. Look at me.”

His thumb traces the skin of his temple, encouraging, and Bucky opens his eyes. Steve is looking down at him with such an intense look of want, it makes Bucky shudder and the tightness in his stomach coil precariously. "M'close," he whimpers. "Steve, Steve ..."

“It’s okay,” Steve soothes. “I want you to. Come on Sweetheart, let me feel it.” He dips down and kisses his parted lips, his jaw, over to the shell of his ear. A hot swipe of tongue makes Bucky tense and cry out.

"Oh ..."

“Love feeling you cum when I’m inside you, Buck. Love knowing it's me who did it, who fucked it outta you,” Steve whispers in his ear, and Bucky moans and shoots into orgasm.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Extra funds? Consider tipping your local starving artist smut author!

💖To be added to any of my tag lists, please use This form (it's easy!)

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

Tags: @scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @sapphirebarnes, @Yoruse, @autumnrose40, @alexakeyloveloki

[daisychainsandbowties]

Lilith in N7 armor, though…

It may or may not surprise you to know that I actually have a whole mass effect au planned out in my head. I just…. Yeah. Ava Silva and the weight of the world on her shoulders. Ava Silva giving exclusive sponsorship to every single tech and weapons shop on the Citadel. Ava Silva with her aquarium and her pet hamster and a shadow longer than her life.

Ava Silva, waking up to fire in the sky above Mindoir. Ships blotting out the sky and the trees a smear of sound and heat and light outside her window. It’s enough to make them burst inward, waking her in time to save her life.

Boots in the hall of their little house and her mother running inside the room, pushing the dresser she made out of this planet up against the door they brought with them from the stars. Ava doesn’t know anything but this place – the grass crunchy in winter and the flowers in spring and the leaves in autumn and all the sunsets in summer.

Her mother has old scars on her hands and an old rifle she keeps under her bed and an old set of armour she wears now. It’s broken open across her chest and the gauntlets are cracked, falling onto the wood floor as she looks for Ava, finds her by the window in a halo of broken glass.

It’s weird, too see her smiling and bleeding at the same time.

There’s a second red heart on her chest, and when she speaks she leaves blood spatter on Ava’s forearms. Clutches at her so tightly that Ava is certain she could never let her go, but then she’s smoothing Ava’s hair off her face, tucking strands behind her ear.

She carries Ava to the window – she’s nine, too big for carrying and she squirms but her mother’s grip is iron. The grass is still wet from overnight rain, somehow, even backlit as they both are by fire. The shape of tall trees in her mother’s eyes which are just the same colour as hers. Brown like earth.

The door to Ava’s bedroom splinters and the last thing Ava hears as she’s pushed onto her back – out of sight and out of reach – is her mother telling her to run. This she knows how to do, running laps around the track at school while the other kids are still stretching out their legs. She knows how to do it alone in the woods around their house or down toward the lake, pretending to chase birds or her own shadow.

Ava, running and always, forever after this, running. Away from town, from home, with an old Alliance beacon in her hand, blinking like a red eye against her palm.

They’ll find you, she’d whispered, pressing it wet into Ava’s small hand, and they did.

When the Alliance come they find Ava. Just her. They ask her questions but all she can tell them about is fire, and sitting in the old cabin by the lake, underneath the floorboards with bugs the size of her hands crawling in the dirt around her. Staring at the beacon until she slept again. Woke again. Slept again.

Ten years later she’s on Akuze and everyone she trained with is dead around her. She’s fresh out of basic training and her armour belonged to someone else before her, ill-fitting at the shoulders and the hips. Her greaves rattle when she walks, and everyone teases her about it and then she’s running past pieces of them.

The creature responsible bleeds so much when it dies, and its insides burn where they touch Ava’s skin. When they find her, she’s carrying a fistful of dog tags, spends a week in a medi-gel bath regrowing a fifth of her skin. They recruit her straight into the N7 program, and some nights, sitting in various drop-ships eating expired ration bars, or gunning down mercs, she wonders if her mother would recognise her anymore. They were supposed to be farmers.

Then Eden Prime, the beacon and a Turian called Adriel who wants to bring about the end of the world. She meets an odd archaeologist on a lonely dig site and her name is Beatrice. A sniper on the Citadel called Shannon, who likes to wear blue. Their pilot, Mary, has a knack for pissing everyone off and a soft spot for Ava.

She sits in the mess late at night, when the ship’s circadian lights make everything dim and secret, drinking coffee with too much creamer and listening to Beatrice talk about the Protheans.

It's the wrong time to fall in love.

They win, eventually, and Ava is quietly side-lined for saying too much, too loudly about the Reapers, who want to come down from the sky and burn everything, like the slavers burned her home once upon a time.

And then she dies.

Her body, burned by the mouth of a planet upon re-entry, finds its way into the hands of a shadow organisation called Cerberus, who call her Lazarus and bring her back from the dead. She wakes up full of hairline fractures, her face trying to break open, bleeding red light like her once-small fingers, like running away again and waking up to flashlights, strange voices. Everything about life is circular.

She wakes in the hands of a girl with designer blood and bones not quite as handmade as Ava’s, but close. Her name is Lilith, and the first thing she tells Ava is that the galaxy hasn’t run out of ways to use her just yet.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hey do you guys have any fics where Klaine are spies or like criminal master minds? Or separately maybe like a mafia story but where they BOTH come from mafia families? I don't know I'm in a bad ass klaine mood. Thanks!

Here's a list of various fics. ~Jen

Here is our mafia tag.

And of course this one!

A Mafia Romance by @yadivagirl [WIP]​

Blaine is the son of a powerful crime boss. He has no intentions of joining the family business, especially since he finally has a gorgeous boyfriend named Kurt, but everyone else has other ideas. When Kurt gets caught in the middle, Blaine’s true nature is unleashed. Like father, like son. Dark!Blaine. Features sex, violence, drug references, and heavy BDSM themes.

~~~~~

An Unrefuseable Offer by Aki and Tenshi

Mafia AU. Blaine is a jaded crime lord interested in Kurt, a singer at a speakeasy. Kurt is desperate to take care of his ill father. Blaine makes Kurt an offer, trade himself for Blaine’s money and influence to get Burt the best medical care. And then there’s Sebastian, who runs a rival mob. Angst, drama, and a dark, kinda romantic story

~~~~~

A Dangerous Game by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)

The year is 1924 and Blaine Anderson, son of the most notorious mafia boss in the east, has gone to his favorite speakeasy where he sees Kurt for the first time. It’s got to be love at first sight but falling for a mafia baby so a dangerous game to play. But is Kurt exactly who Blaine thinks he is? 

~~~~~

Spy fic:

Trigger Warning by @inkystars (on tumblr)

Blaine Anderson is one of the top international spies in the world, but is very insistant upon keeping his husband, Kurt Hummel, in the dark about that matter. Which ends up being a bit of a problem when Kurt is kidnapped

~~~~~

Criminal Klaine -

An Unwritten Life by GlassParade

An adaptation of the movie “The Brothers Bloom” – Blaine and Cooper are brothers and con artists, committing crimes worldwide with explosives expert Santana in tow. But Blaine wants out of the life, while Cooper wants to pull off one last con – and for his mark, he’s selected reclusive automotive heir Kurt Hummel. With Coop’s promise to finally let him go in hand, Blaine sets the hook and reels Kurt into a madcap global adventure in lies, violence, death…and love.

~~~~~~

An Honest Man by BlurglesmurfKlaine @jinglejavey

For nearly the past decade, Kurt Hummel and his best friend Rachel Berry have made their living swindling unsuspecting bachelors. Which proves to be pretty easy on his conscience, considering he doesn’t believe in love anymore. As they always say: “You can’t con an honest man... Good thing they don’t exist.” But their mark for their last con before they go their separate ways—Blaine Anderson—may just prove otherwise, and restore Kurt’s faith in love in the process.

~~~~~

FBI/criminal:

Catch Me If You Can by @afterthenovels

In the end, catching Kurt Hummel is definitely not what Blaine expected.

Special Agent Blaine Anderson catches con-man and art thief extraordinaire Kurt Hummel twice, and on the second time they strike a deal. They’re supposed to just solve white collar crimes together, but they might even end up solving each other in the process.

A White Collar AU.

Note: There are 9 more stories in this verse HERE.

~~~~~

In Spite of all the Darkness by wishesonfallenstars

When the bodies of teenage girls start appearing next to dumpsters over New York City, the NYPD calls in the FBI. Because Serial Killers are always stopped easier when there’s experienced back up on speed-dial, and with bodies starting to pile up, they need to move fast. (warnings inside)

~~~~~

Hidden in the Deep by LauGS @heartsmadeofbooks

Kurt Hummel’s only concern was getting the perfect role in the perfect Broadway show. But when one night he witnesses a real nightmare, Kurt’s focus shifts from saving his career to saving something much more important: his own life.

~~~~~

Mr Congeniality by ifinallyfoundsomeone

Miss. Congeniality!AU

Bomb threats are being sent to the newly made Mr. America pageant and FBI Agent Blaine Anderson has taken up the position of being an undercover agent to save the pageant. With some extreme grooming and guidance from his pageant consultant, Blaine infiltrates the world of Men’s pageants. Making some interesting friends, and maybe he even winning the heart of his slave driver pageant consultant, the gorgeous and fascinating, Kurt Hummel.

~~~~~

[milfgyuu]

How Deep? Pairing: Xu Minghao x GN!Reader Tags: 4.7k, fantasy!au, sad romance + happy ending. Collab: “Spookteen” presented by @svthub Summary: You meet a siren named Minghao unexpectedly and become friends but with an incurable illness looming over you and his inability to leave the water - making the most of your time together blooms a bond so deep neither of you are ready when the end finally comes.

Warnings: terminal illness, themes of grief/despair, character death.

The first time you found yourself lost in the wood, you had been in a foul state.

Leaves and branches crunched unforgivingly under your boots as you fled far from your village without any clear direction. You just needed to get away from the noise, the smoke, the crowds of people, the smell of fish wafting in from the docks. You swatted at the buzzing noises in the air and tripped over a tree root, cursing up a storm without care.

Fed up and seemingly far enough away from your burdens you happened upon a small pool of water, still as can be. The area was quiet, surrounded by towering trees, thick vegetation and there was a big round stone formation jutting from the earth just near the water’s edge. You dropped down upon it, heaving in a deep breath.

At least the air was clear. Perhaps clear enough to think for once.

You were too busy pulling off your boots and socks to notice the water’s surface ripple, nor the shock of bright red hair or piercing white eyes watching you ever so carefully. Tucking your socks into your boots, you shifted back around to face the water, ignoring the ‘plink’ that echoes just before the water stills again.

The sun’s rays fought to stream through the thick canopy of trees but the stone you sat upon is the one spot it seemed to hit just right. That might have been the only thing going your way as of late.

Sitting back on your hands, you tipped your face toward the sun, eyes closed against the brightness as you let warmth bleed into your skin. Again, the water rippled and curious eyes gazed upon you from the pool. They shifted from your face to your hands, then down your legs to your bare feet. They’d been so busy detailing the bend of your knee and arch of your foot that they’d almost been caught when you finally righted your posture.

That time, the sound of displaced water was audible. Movement got caught in your peripheral vision before the water completely stilled. You shifted closer, staring into the dark pool but nothing looked back aside from your own reflection. Looking around at your surroundings, it would have been easy to become paranoid in the open wood but with anger and discontent still in your heart, you felt more defensive than anything.

“Who’s out there?” you shouted in annoyance, “Is that you Abigail? I told you I wanted to be left alone…”

Nothing but silence met your ears and you pushed to your feet, standing atop the stone to gain a better view. “Abigail?” you repeated cautiously, pulling your dagger from the leather strapped to your thigh. It’s not unlikely that someone could have followed you. Watched you enter the wood on your own and trudge deep enough that no one would hear your pleas for help.

“Show yourself coward!” you shouted a bit louder, teeth bared viciously. The water rippled again but a quick glance to your side showed nothing of interest and you steel your voice, “I’ll cut you from ear-to-ear! I swear it! Leave now and leave with your life!”

A quick splash had you spinning rapidly and almost slipping from the now slick stone. Your dagger flew from your hand, landing several feet away, and then you’re shrieking as a man surfaces in the seemingly empty pool of water - his flaming red hair matching the alarmed look in his delicate features as he raised his hands toward you in a panic.

You landed heavily on your rear, one foot slipping into the warm water and soaking your pant leg miserably. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” the unfamiliar man rushed out, though he makes no move to emerge from the water to help you. His hand hovered near the stone as you winced and try to push yourself back away from the edge slowly.

You groaned, shifting your weight and rubbing your tail bone, griping about your luck.

The man looked up at you worriedly and then you both realized he’d been holding onto your ankle for a bit longer than necessary. He met your eyes and blushed, removing his hand and dipping back into the water, out of view. Your brows furrowed and you leaned forward scanning the surface. “Hey,” you called out, “Where’d you go?”

After a few silent moments, he reappeared at the far edge of the pool, only exposing the upper half of his face. It was then that you noticed his white irises, slit pupils…

Your lips pinched together in thought as you looked at one another. “Who are you?” you finally asked, “What are you doing in there?”

He blinked as though not believing you were actually speaking to him.

You squinted your eyes, trying to make out the rest of him beneath the water but it was too reflective. “Do you speak?”

Then, his head fully poked out and he pouted, “Of course I can speak.”

The sound of his voice knocked you off kilter and your elbow gave out beneath you causing you to quickly sag backwards. The man swam forward but stopped just as you caught yourself, meeting his wide, panicked eyes. He seemed too worried about you to actually be a threat and you decided to introduce yourself first. His head tilted as he listened to your voice.

After a moment, he responded. “My name is Minghao and I live here…well most of the time.”

You looked around the wood and found nothing close to something resembling a home within close distance.

“You mean you’re from the village?” Odd. You had never seen him before. You were certain you’d remember.

Minghao shook his head sending water droplets flying from his long hair. “The ocean,” he answered simply, “Though I much prefer this pool. It’s calm and quiet. I found it many moons ago and made a home in the caves below.”

He’s not making any sense at all and you were convinced you’d gone and found yourself trapped. Alone, in the woods with a lunatic. How fitting would this end be?

“You don’t believe me,” his voice floated over the eerily still water and up to your ears.

“How could a man live in an underwater dwelling? It’s impossib-”

Minghao quickly dove under the water but just as you’re about to complain, bright red metallic scales glimmer in the sunlight as Minghao waves his long tail about before diving down and resurfacing properly. “I’m not a man,” he then cocked his head to the side and grinned, “Well, not a human one at least.”

You quickly pulled your foot from the water and further away from the edge. Minghao frowned.

“Y-you’re a siren!”

Dipping his mouth and nose back under water, he floated further away until you seemed to stop moving and he pushed up again. “You needn’t be afraid,” he said sadly, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Is that not what sirens say before they lure you into the water and drown you?”

Minghao’s brows pinched in the center. “That wasn’t very nice.”

You looked at him a bit closer and realized he was genuinely upset with your response. Your legs unfurled and Minghao watched curiously as you dipped your toes back into the water as a show of blind faith. He could just as easily tug you in by the ankle and drag you deep into the pool until your lungs burst but given the trajectory of your future, what harm could really come from it?

Rolling your pants up to your knees, you settled comfortably on the stone, dragging your feet back and forth in the water. “I apologize for my outburst,” you uttered quietly.

Minghao swam a bit closer, perhaps testing you to see if you truly weren’t afraid of him and to his surprise, you didn't tense up or falter in your leisurely motion. “I apologize for sneaking up on you. It wasn’t my intention to alarm you.”

You chuckled at the reality of conversing with a siren.

“Apology accepted,” you grinned, “You must have been startled when I showed up, cursing and shouting like that.”

His curious gaze lingered on your face. “You did seem very upset. May I ask why?”

You blew out a long breath and tapped your fingers against the stone. “Life is…cruel sometimes,” you finally said after a long pregnant pause, “No matter how much you sacrifice, how hard you work…the gods don’t grant anyone privilege. They’ll strike you down where you stand without mercy nor care for what you may have to offer the world.”

You looked over at Minghao who seemed to be at a loss and chuckled sadly. “I’m ill and the healer’s treatments are no longer working.”

He seemed to understand that as his eyes shifted downward.

A little huff of defeat released from within your chest as you grappled with the reality of what you’d just said aloud. You’d been ill for some time now but the the elixirs and potions that had once proven hopeful had since stopped working all together and there were no alternatives.

“Life is cruel,” Minghao suddenly echoed and your eyes landed back on him, visible from the chest up now, “And it is lonely.”

“Don’t sirens typically live together?”

Minghao swam closer and rested his elbows along the ledge of the pool to your right. He crossed his arms neatly and your eyes caught on the shiny red scales that appeared in some places along his skin. “I am very different from my kind,” he explained, “The sirens that you hear about in your stories…they are real. Beautiful, alluring, deadly. I couldn’t bring myself to harm a human and I was banished. Forced to leave the only family I've ever known and fend for myself.”

“Minghao…”

He quickly waved off your concern. “That was a long time ago.”

Those keen eyes peered up at you and though they held no pity, they offered sympathy.

“If my home offers you any bit of peace or comfort in your days left on earth, I welcome you to visit,” he said kindly, “Any time you’d like.”

He’d hoped you would say yes, that you’ll return and allow him your company once more.

You eyed him carefully for a moment and then nodded, thanking him for his hospitality. Looking up at the sky, you saw that the sun was beginning to set and you’re not exactly sure you’ll remember the path you took here once it was dark out. You carefully pulled your legs from the water and reached for your boots.

Minghao’s fingers flexed where they rested on his forearm and he straightened his spine. “You’re leaving already?”

You smiled over at him, tugging on your other boot, “I hadn’t realized the time before I stormed out here,” you answered, tugging your pant legs down, “I promise to visit with you again, Minghao, if you truly don’t mind my company, that is…”

“I would like it very much,” he responded quickly.  He then disappeared under the water when he saw you smile in response.

His mouth reappeared when you stood, smoothing out your wrinkled shirt. You lifted your hand to wave goodbye and Minghao imitated the motion, unused to human gestures. He watched you go until he couldn’t see you any longer and then he dived beneath the surface and back down to his caverns to anticipate your next visit.

As it turned out, you hadn’t traveled that far from home that first day you stumbled upon Minghao’s home and it took you no time at all to find it again. You peered around recognizing the same crooked branch to the east and sat upon the stone, staring into the water, waiting for him to appear.

Except you sat alone for several long minutes before familiar red hair surfaced just before you. Looking down at him you lifted one corner of your mouth in a smirk. “I didn’t think you were home.”

“I didn’t know you were here, “ he said simply, “You weren’t as loud this time.”

His words weren’t nearly as shocking as the playful grin on his lips and you laughed in response to his teasing. “I’ll be sure to announce myself next time.”

His heart raced with the promise. “So you plan to visit again?”

And you did. Every day.

Days quickly turned to weeks and you realized you spent more of your time hidden in the wood with Minghao than you did in your home or the village itself. You spoke for hours about anything you could think of and Minghao would join in or laugh along to the joyful memories that had become so much clearer as time passed by. You brought him things from the village and he showed you things he’d collected over the years and displayed in his home below.

Gradually, you became so comfortable in his company that you decided to join him in that small pool. First just wading with each other near the edges as the pool was much deeper than you had anticipated. Then holding Minghao’s hands as he pulled you out into the middle of the opening to help you float, aches and pains washing away in the weightless water.

Eventually, you became brave enough to wrap your arms around Minghao’s shoulders and allow him to swim you both down to see the entrances of the underwater caverns.

You never did get to look inside. Your human lungs hadn’t the capacity to swim any deeper without the need for air.

Each time you swam together, Minghao was careful to keep you above water, to hold onto you in case you got tired and needed a break. It was noticeably harder to do it alone as the days went by.

Minghao could see how tired you looked, how weakened your body had become over time.

One evening, you stumbled trying to remove your boots and Minghao cautioned you to sit, nervously hovering at the edge of the water, cursing his body from keeping him from helping you more. You offered a tired laugh and waved him off.

“Don’t worry so much, Hao,” you smiled, though the dark circles under your eyes contradicted it, “I’m tougher than I look, don’t you think?”

The question doesn’t necessarily require an answer and soon enough you were undressed and slipping over the edge until your body was submerged in the warm water. Minghao instinctually brought an arm around your waist, not trusting your body’s own strength.

With the physical strain removed and the sense of weightlessness washing over you, your head fell forward, landing softly against the top of his shoulder. Minghao only tightened his grip around you and focused on the slow, steady beat of your heart. “Sing to me.”

His eyes squeezed shut painfully, wetness seeping through his lashes at the submission in your tone. You sounded so…defeated…resigned to your departure from earth. From him.

“You know I cannot sing to you, my love.”

Your heart ached when he used the endearment. It had fallen from his lips accidentally the first time he’d said it but your answering smile reassured him it was most welcome and he’s used it ever since.

“I need to hear it before I go, Hao, please,” your voice broke, breath shuttering painfully, “I can’t leave without knowing what it sounds like.”

Dissolved into tears, your body shook against Minghao’s and he gently spun you in the water, both arms latched around you protectively. As if the gods would have to tear you from his grasp to take you away and he’d put up a good fight.

“You can’t leave so soon,” he murmured into your hair, “I won’t let you go just yet.”

Adjusting your head, you turned to rest your cheek upon his shoulder, pressing your face into his neck as he slowly twirled with you in the water, as if you were dancing. He can’t sing to you, no, but he hummed along to a melody reminiscent of a nursery rhyme and held you closely, letting the feeling of your skin imprint upon his own.

He blinked when he felt your lips press to his cheek, burning when you pulled back to look at him. Your tired eyes were still filled with all the stars in the sky when you looked at him and before he can stop himself he’s kissing you under the moonlight. Your eyes fell shut as you kissed him back tenderly. It was something so sweet and filled with such sorrow.

He held you long past the point of your skin wrinkling from being in the water too long and reluctantly swam you to the ledge, helping you back up onto the stone to begin dressing and start on the journey home. You’ve told Minghao it’s not too far but he still worries about you not making it there on your own. It’s something that wakes him in fits during the night.

“Please don’t worry if I'm not here tomorrow,” you assured him quietly, trying to conceal your fatigue from dressing, “I’m visiting the healer and she’s advised me to rest afterward. I’ll be sure to visit the day after. I promise.”

Minghao offered an uneasy nod but you mustered all your strength to lean down and plant another kiss on his lips, surprising him with a gentle smile.

He touched his lips and met your soft gaze. “Rest well so we can go for a dive when you come again.”

You got up carefully and hid the pain from his joyful glowing eyes. “I’ll be back before you know I'm gone.”

Four days passed by slowly and dreadfully before you returned. Minghao hadn't slept wink.

He heard you coming before you got a chance to announce your presence and the way your name sounded coming from his numb lips breaks your heart. He’d been waiting for you.

You sat near the ledge and leaned over, eyes closing as his warm, wet hands slipped up to cup your cheeks. “I was so worried,” his eyes roved over your face gauging a slightly healthier glow, “The healer, did they help?”

Turning to press a kiss into his palm, you sighed. “I could hardly get out of bed the last three days but this morning I woke with more strength than I've had in months.”

Your gentle smile matches his own and then it turned a bit sad. “It’s temporary,” you murmured and he’d known as much though it still hurt to hear aloud, “But I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could while it lasted.”

Minghao spent the next three weeks falling deeper in love with the human he could never keep. His beloved human the gods were destined to pull from his grasp long before either of you were ready and he made the most of it. You shared love and laughter, talking and swimming until you grew too tired to do either.

He held you in the water, danced with you in a weightless ballroom with your body tucked closely to his own, your hands woven together, lips touching reverently. When you couldn’t stay awake any longer he watched you sleep on a blanket near the water’s edge, your hand always stretched down into the water seeking his own and he never let go, even once.

One morning, he awoke just as your hand slipped from his grasp weakly. Shaking his wet hair and blinking away his bleary vision, his eyes settled on your face, sickly and damp. Your expression was pained and he carefully shook you awake in a stark panic.

“Please,” his strained voice pleaded with you to rise, “You must go see the healer!”

You shakily rolled onto your side to get closer. “No, I just want to stay here with you.”

Again, he cursed his body and his inability to do anything useful for you. He’d heard of sirens who were able to leave the ocean, shed their tails for legs, though only for a brief time before needing to return to their natural form, but he’d been banished before he was ever taught. He only needed a damn hour! Just long enough to get you back to your village - to the humans who actually stood a chance of helping you.

“You can come back,” he begged you in a whisper, his face tucked closely to yours, “You’ll come back to me, okay?”

You both knew that if you left now, there was a very real possibility that you would not return.

The silence and dread lingered in the air.

Minghao shut out the tears welling in his eyes, squeezing so tightly his vision spotted for a moment when they landed on your face. His hand delicately cupped your cheek, thumb stroking over your brow. “I know it is cruel of me to ask, but sirens are terrible, selfish creatures,” he hummed quietly, “Please, go to the healer, for me. I’m not ready, w-we must have more time…just a bit m-more time…”

As tired as you were, the desperation in his voice gave you the strength to push yourself up. His hands were laid just over your thighs and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to each of your knees hoping they will carry you as far as you need to get help. You reached down and cupped his chin, kissing him with as much love and gratitude you could possibly spill into him.

Pulling back, you looked at those sad eyes of his and smile, gods forbid it’s the last time he sees you. You could only hope he would remember you in your brightest moments.

Minghao watched you go until you’d disappeared entirely and pushed away from the edge, fueled with unfathomable rage. Diving deep into the pool, he found the small opening that would lead him back out to the ocean. He needed to swim hard and fast - the pent up hatred and sorrow in his soul rotting him from the inside out. He swam for hours on end, cursing himself, the sea, the gods, fate.

Everything that keeps him from living by your side…happy, healthy…

It’s all too unfair.

Near midnight he finally resurfaced in the pool but you’re not there and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again. The exhaustion and despair nearly sent him to the darkest, furthest depths. Instead, he hung his arms over the side of the ledge where your blanket remained and grasped the fabric in his hands, bringing it closer to rest his head upon.

And he waited.

Two full days passed and you don’t return.

On the third day, he’s awoken by a twig snapping and then a loud thud.

Rubbing his eyes, a blurry figure comes into view but it’s nothing more than a lump on the ground and he quickly realizes that it’s you laying there, unmoving.

He calls out your name but you don’t respond and he becomes increasingly frantic.

He’s shouting after you but the most you offer is an outstretched arm though you’re more than twenty feet from the pool and he can’t reach you. Minghao paces back and forth near the edge trying to figure out what to do. You’re both so far secluded that no one would hear his call for help. He’s has to do something though. He won’t see you die laying cold and alone.

Minghao heaves himself upwards and presses his palms into the earth, with his strength alone, he’s able to haul himself out of the water and onto land but with his body bound in siren form, he can’t do more than drag himself a bit further from the edge. He flaps his tail desperately, willing it away with all his might as he let’s out a distressed wail.

With your face pressed to the ground, a tear rolls over your cheek watching Minghao struggle to reach you and you beg and plead with your own traitorous body to get up. His name comes from your lips in weak pants and they just barely reach his ears when suddenly, his thrashing stops and perhaps it’s a dying vision but you see him stand on shaking legs and take a single step forward.

Then another and another.

Minghao kneels on his weak legs just before you - all shock and awe of having them shoved to the very back of his mind once he’s able to reach out and touch you. Rolling onto your back, you stare up at him with a tired smile. “I came back to you,” you whisper hoarsely, “Sorry I didn’t make it all the way.”

Minghao smiles back, tears dripping from his face and splashing onto your cheek.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, pulling you into his arms, “You’re here. That’s all the matters.”

His gentle rocking motion and humming brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes as you realize this is it. You’re out of time and this is your last day on earth. Your last moments with the siren you’ve come to know and love with every fiber of your being.

“I’m dying,” you utter quietly and Minghao closes his eyes, shaking his head, but you reach up and rest your hand against his chest, “Thank you for making my last days worthwhile.”

He can’t hear it. He’s not ready.

“I love you, Minghao.”

His heart shatters entirely.

“Will you sing to me?” you ask quietly, the same sweet smile upon your lips he adores. “Sing to me until I fall asleep, please. I need to hear you before I go.”

You’re fading and there is nothing he can do to stop it.

Using every bit of strength he has left, he tightens his arms around you and stands on uncertain feet. His melodic voice begins singing as he brings you back to the pool and it’s like a warm heavy blanket, lulling you into peace and security. Though the words are foreign and beautiful to hear, the meaning is dark and treacherous but not when they come from his lips.

“I am a creature of the fey, prepare to give your soul away. My spell is passion and it is art, my song can blind a human heart. And if you chance to know my face, my hold shall be your last embrace.”

Your eyes are already closed when he slips back into the pool, his legs binding together in scales and fins once more. You’re nearly gone and he releases a watery sigh pressing his forehead to your own. With one last look, he kisses your lips and sinks deep beneath the water, dragging you down into the furthest depths until he’s sitting on the bottom of the pool’s floor cradling your lifeless body to his chest.

His sweet human.

He’d never hear your voice again, never dance with you under the moonlight, or sit patiently at the pool’s edge while you put flowers in his hair. He’d never feel your soft touch, nor your warm lips against his own. His despair catches up with him and he squeezes you tighter, as if he could gift you his own lifeforce if only he could pull you close enough.

Suddenly, you stir in his arms and Minghao looks down, meeting your eyes.

Piercing white, just like his own, and along your lower half, golden scales as beautiful as the sun itself. He doesn’t understand in the least how it’s possible but you’re…alive.  

He kisses you before either of you speak a single word of your disbelief. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you kiss him back, shifting to deepen it when you realize you no longer need to part for air. You can hear him now, in your mind - his voice is joyful as he tells you over and over how much he loves you and you push the same sentiment back to him, his acknowledgement coming in the form of little nips at your bottom lip.

When you finally part, Minghao holds your hands as you use your new body for the first time and laughs when you grin, overwhelmed and amazed by your second chance at life with your lover at your side. Looking back up to his handsome face you smile softly.

“Why don’t you show me around?” you tilt your head playfully and Minghao releases one of your hands, spinning you in a circle before pulling you close to his chest again.

“My love,” he steals one more unhurried kiss, “Welcome home.”

Thanks for reading! ->  Spookteen M.List

SVT M.List | Main M.List

→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Milfgyuu, 2019. ©️