#let her have a coming out arc💕

[not-buffalo-marshmallow]

Fred being referred to as a "person" is so nonbinarycore.

[anika-ann]

Walking Back Into My Own Myth - A.B.

Type: long one-shot, significantly AU, supernatural elements

Pairing: sorcerer!Andy Barber x reader   Word Count: 22,2k (🥹)

Summary: They warn you not to wander the woods alone; but the woods feel more like home than the house you grew up in. They warn you not to confuse your head with childish tales of supernatural; but sometimes fiction feels more real than your own life. They warn you not stay alone with a man you just met, let alone in his house; but sometimes danger lurks in unexpected places. Sometimes, one can rely on the kindness of strangers. ... Or can they?

Warnings: soft dark, NSFW, 18+, smut (unprotected sex, oral, fingering); softdark but rather soft I think (come on, it’s me, also sort-of redemption arc?), dubcon, sex pollen and non-consensual ‘drug’ use, orgasm control, allusions to praise kink, possessiveness; supernatural elements, near drowning, mention of a dead animal, arseholes relatives, allusions to mostly emotional (past) abuse, minor injury and blood, language and SO MANY words and so much smut; 'little bird' as a term of endearment

A/N: Alright. First of all, this is one of rare occurrences of me writing softdark, so be warned. Second, this story is a callback to a perfectly innocent lovely event by @yenzys-lucky-charm back in autumn, specifically to this post. And third, I do realize that 22k fic is a massacre. I believe it flows best when read as a one-shot, but if you are understandably intimidated by that, there is a heart divider approx. in the middle where I feel taking a break is most suitable. At your convenience. Enjoy 💕 A/N 2:Dividers by @saradika-graphics 

The frozen leaves were crunching under your boots, a soothing sound between your harsh breaths and huffs and occasional curses interrupting the otherwise peaceful song of the woods; rustle of the glazed grass, soft creaks of the branches bowing to the wind, a barely audible clinks of sharp snowflakes having created a beautiful harmony.

A harmony much needed after you had just left the utter chaos of a family gathering which, as usual, ended up in drowning the holidays in a cesspool of negativity. And as it often did, the negativity seemed to revolve around you.

You didn’t know what you had been thinking, coming here. You had a life outside of this small town, a mostly good one too; you had no reason to visit your hometown whatsoever, year after year, naively hoping for a change. But family was family, your mother always said; one did not turn back to their own blood, even if they had become the almighty big city girl.

As if. As if you were that.

The said big city was now finally feeling at peace as she had walked out of the door, having had her fill of lousy loud human beings, turning to the quiet of nature instead.

The one place where you all truly came from.

The one place that loved you no matter what.

The one place where you had never been and never would be judged.

You had always been drawn to woods, even as a little girl.

To the quiet place to hide from the overwhelmingly loud world, from boys pulling your hair until your eyes watered for their fun, from other girls cutting it for the very same reason, from teachers waving it off with kids can be a bit cruel, so what?

Of course you kept escaping. The embodiment of the cliché of a small town since young age; the designated weirdo. The one who’d rather ran through the woods than the few streets and newly built clothes store; the one who was more interested in fairytales and myths than videogames; the one fascinated by pagan tales from the old continent and local legends than the Bible. The very definition of pariah; side-eyed by peers, looked at through fingers by the adults and elderly. No matter how much you had moved towards normalcy to be approved of during the years, the small-town folk, as always had put the label on you having used the special kind of glue they were experts at making. It stuck.

And so did your love for the woods.

Hikes became your hobby, the woods your only solace. The safest place on Earth; for which many gave you strange looks still, more so since you had moved to a big city that offered but a daily walk in a minuscule patch of greenery.

Naturally, parks weren’t the same as here; here, in the woods, you felt like you could finally breathe.

The only reason why you had chosen the city was your job; your job and the visceral need to leave the very people you had just left in the house far behind. The city was but a jungle of steel and glass and concrete, constant noise and raging sea of people crushing your soul; but if there was one thing you hated more than the suffocating atmosphere of a city, it was the small-town gossip and narrowmindedness. 

You only came back to your hometown once a year, for Holidays. And every year, you regretted it.

The constant jabs from your family, about your job, your tiny apartment you finally moved into after years of having to cohabitate with various unique personalities; about your hair and make-up, about your weight, wrong no matter which side of the scale it leaned to. The never-ending biting remarks about being unable to keep a man. And all that, followed by offended comments that you couldn’t take a little teasing.

Mocking was the right word. Goddamn bullying.

So no, you could not take a joke like that; especially when they were twenty in a row.

And you had tried, you truly had. You nodded and chuckled and complimented and helped around the house, but nothing was ever done right. And you suffered the mocking, because in the end, those people were your family and family loved each other and maybe you were indeed a little too sensitive. So you kept trying, year by year. You had been to Sunday school as a kid, despite despising it, really – so for Holidays, you joined everyone in their prayers, coming to midnight mass, participating in traditions. Like a good girl; like a good daughter.

You accepted the family hypocrisy too and participated in that silly and very much non-Christian tradition of theirs, of all single family members throwing apple peels into water to reveal the first letter of their future spouse’s name; every year, despite the game being rigged, an utter nonsense, if for nothing else then for the fact that everyone ended up with an O or C or U, because, well, that was what apple peels looked like. Ironically, all your siblings and cousins had actually married someone whose name started with the very letter they had received in their ‘prophecy’, a little too self-fulfilling for your taste; but you congratulated them anyway and kept throwing the apple peels in too.

And you did it wrong, again; a scandal. This year, your apple peel curled mysteriously enough to a create a form resembling a cursive A, the first in family history. You always had to have something extra, didn’t you? God.

You loved your family; you did. You told yourself you did, because no one was perfect and unconditional love was bull. But you had never felt so completely alone and unloved as when you were with them.

You wondered why that was; and the answer was clearer than the skies on a freezing December night. The tears that stung in your eyes had little to do with the wind growing icier and sharper; it had everything to do with clearly being an unlovable person.

If you never came back from your walk, they probably wouldn’t even notice. Not until they felt like humiliating someone, again, and suddenly realized their favourite target was missing. Who would be their next victim? Probably you. The joy of talking about someone behind their back was a great substitute to laughing to their face, you supposed.

You scoffed and sniffed, shaking your head as you resumed walking. The short trail you had set off to – slightly underdressed, you had to admit – looked different than usual this time of year. Indeed, only the frozen over, crunchy leaves instead of snow; not even winters were what they used to be. You should have never come back.

As the falling snow finally seemed to stick, rather pieces of messy ice than soft snowflakes, you made the executive decision to stay away from your relatives and this town next year.

This year would be last they ever they’d ever see you.

Arriving to the clearing among the trees brought a genuine smile to your lips, the first one in two days. The sight of the lake – too small to become a favourite destination of families during summer heatwave, hugged from afar by tall white birch trees and caressed by long leaves of grass and reeds with a single old willow tree offering a sanctuary to a little girl wishing to enter other worlds through reading – moved something deep within your chest. A memory of peace, nostalgic longing for days when life had been easier – but it hadn’t.

You gulped, letting you heart lead your steps. Pulling out hands from your pockets, your fingertips grazed over the white bark, flexing gently as if to grasp the harmony of the old days where escaping the judging looks by getting lost in old myths still appeared like a plausible solution to all problems. Brushing over the thin branches of the willow tree, you could almost feel the summer breeze toying with the leaves, protecting your ears from the echo of scoffs and cries. Stupid fairytales! Pick a real book for God’s sake at least! Learn the Scripture instead! Blasphemy! Fables for silly children! You’re messing and confusing your head with those childish fantasies!

One corner of your lips rose higher, a memory of just how much fonder you grew of the stories with every speck of dirt people threw at them. Folklore, was the right word. Old wives’ tales. Legends. A touch of magic from times when people still believed in it and wrote their faith into traditions that could be sacred and bloody all at once. How was that different from drinking the blood and eating the body of Christ?

The hypocrisy of a small town.

You too, were a bit of a hypocrite, you assumed; you badmouthed the apple peel tradition, only to dive with fascination into myths and traditions of another; but those, those were yours to explore, yours to cherish. Not pushed at you.

You remembered sitting in the willow’s shade, much smaller at the time, reading with batted breath the stories of crime and punishment for toying with forces beyond human compression, with life and death. A series of stories passed by word of mouth, gathered and weaved into simple poems; a tale of two sisters walking in the death of a night on Christmas Day to a frozen lake, wishing to glimpse their future in the water surface. You recalled the moral of this particular story too; it was better not to know; in the story, one of them learned about her upcoming marriage, the other about her own death. Was it truly something one wanted to know…?

Perhaps there was morbidity to it, but it used to fascinate you; the mystics of it all, the morals, the question of what if you had that chance. What would you do? Would you, too, be seduced by a mirage of your dead beloved to walk to your near demise? Would you give in to the temptation of riches at expense of a life? Would you risk gods’ punishment for wishing to know what only gods were meant to know, your future?

Would you?

With a bitter chuckle, you crouched by the lake, fingers carefully caressing over the thinnest layer of transparent ice.

Years and years ago, even a month ago, you would say it was not worth it to tempt fate. It was better not to know, to be content with what one had at any given moment, to only keep on hoping for a happy ending rather than to learn about an inevitable tragedy; such was the message of the old tale, sticking with you firmly your whole life. 

Then, two weeks ago, your cheating dick of a boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, naturally – graciously gifted you a broken heart as an early Christmas gift on top of everything else barely kept together with your weak hands.

Would you like a glimpse of the future, a speckle of hope, looking at you from the water surface? Yeah. Hell, you might jump into the ice-cold lake if it meant someone would tell you everything was going to be okay.

A shiver ran down your spine as a gust of cold wind blew, weaving snowflakes into your hair; a prompt and a warning, you would have thought several years ago, a childlike faith in the supernatural.

But there was no supernatural. Oh no, humans managed to punish themselves and each other just fine on their own, sometimes without a crime preceding it.

With another chuckle – because what was the worst thing that could happen? You’d see your own face staring back? – you pressed against the thin layer of ice, surprised by its firmness.

“What the-“

You leaned into it further, pushing harder, more bewildered by the resistance than anything; a distant sound of a creaking wood reached your ears, the wind playing in the branches.

An echo of a voice.

A soundless whisper of your name.

Your head snapped to the direction of the almost haunting voice, nothing but the clearing and the woods surrounding you.

“I’m losing my mind…” you muttered under your breath, sighing, turning back and pressing against the ice once more.

The sudden loud crack took you by surprise, your feet slipping as you retreated your hand too quickly, losing your balance.

The next thing you knew, a scream was dying in your throat as you gulped for air, the freezing water gripping you neck to toe, your suddenly heavy limbs feeling like having to move through thousands shards of glass.

Your body spasmed painfully at the brutal temperature drop, even your lungs burning from the seemingly colder air.

Your heart thundered in panic, beats so wild the poor muscle might actually burst or simply give out, your temples pulsing with its frantic echo. Your vision blurred with black blending into all the white surrounding you.

This was what encounter with death looked like; ice-cold, sharp, pale and hopeless.

You were going to die and your heavily flailing limps barely keeping your head above water would not be enough to save you. You were going to drown. A bastard child of a sob and desperate gasp for air tore from your lungs, the ice cutting through your skin and flesh.

Then, the haunting call of your name again, closer, warmer.

Come to me.

I need you.

Fight.

You hungrily bit for more air, your head spinning, the voice growing louder with every word, urgent, but soothing all the same, like a helping hand extended.

Don’t you give up.

Come find me.

It might have been God; might have been the spirits of the woods. Most likely, it was the shock making you hear imaginary voices.

Your fists clenched despite feeling like your knuckles were being grazed by razors, a deep cut not drawing blood but making it turn into ice instead. Still; you pushed against the water, feet kicking madly, the tears springing from your eyes as burning as lava in comparison to your skin.

Another kick. Push. Arms so heavy, and so, so cold, thousands of knives piercing your flesh, tearing a desperate raw cry from depth of your lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut and screamed again, pushing with all your remaining might, throwing your arms around.

Solid surface. Crunchy leaves. Your dug your numb fingers into the stiff ground, grabbing nothing but dirt but pulling and kicking out at the same time anyway.

A minuscule motion; your chin, your neck, on the solid ground. Not thick ice – earth. The woods. Your best friend.

A pathetic cry of laughter burst from your ribcage, shaking violently as you forced your muscles – not even feeling like your own anymore – to keep pulling. To keep kicking out, an absurd imagery of your ex’s face being behind your feet causing you to choke out a brief bark of laughter again and pull. And again and again, your shoulders, torso, legs, sagging against the frozen land.

Your body shook beyond your control as you tried to roll over, your boots making a pathetic splashy sound that barely reached your ears over the pounding in your head. Your chest was expanding and deflating rapidly as you laid on your back, slow blinks against the still falling snow and the sight of grey skies. Every single cell in your body screamed in pain, every motion like a fresh stab wound, but you couldn’t stop; you couldn’t stop shaking.

Whatever survival instinct you had took over as your hands pushed pathetically by your lower back so you could sit up and then scramble to your feet.

The process of standing up seem to last an eternity and half, the temperature dropping further; and when you did stumble to your feet, standing on legs that bent to the wind almost as much as the leafless branches, you nearly toppled over and fell head first back into the lake, your vision blurring.

Whether the water surface would show your future was the furthest thing from your mind; it was just the cold. Brutal, deadly cold. That and warmth.

That, and the strange kind voice, perhaps your very own guardian angel who seemed to love you, the only being in this goddamn universe, whispering in your ears.

Come, my love.

Keep walking.

And you did. Dry sobs erupting from your throat, boots practically freezing to the ground in between every step, exhaustion and the unforgiving cold etched into the very fibre of your being, you dragged one foot along the other, step by step, the miniature distance walked mocking you harder than all your relatives combined.

But it wasn’t their voices you heard; this one was sweet. Like a hot chocolate with whipped cream and pinch of winter spices on top, warming your frozen bones; like what you imagined a hug by a fireplace felt like, a kiss to your temple with affection without pretence. Like gentle palms cradling your face before his lips touched yours, tasting like true love; like a burning touch to your bare skin, dragged so softly, teasingly, before finally giving you what you desired.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

Keep you safe.

Dark spots danced in your vision, making you dizzy, your heavy eyelids slipping shut; your knees, quaking so hard they could no longer carry you, buckled and sent you plummeting.

Your palms met a rough surface as you flailed your arms out, barely caught against the bark of a tree, scraping your skin enough to draw blood. Your eyes snapped open, another ragged sob tearing from your achy throat.

And that was when your vision cleared despite the blur of tears.

A light.

A cabin. A small house; a cottage? Who the fuck cared.

It was an occupied house; warm light spilling from one of the windows, smoke coming out of the chimney, a promise of everything your body desperately cried for. Almost feeling its warmth radiating all the way to your numb fingertips, you gritted your teeth, strength you never thought you possessed poured straight into your veins, having already almost frozen over.

In the very back of your hazy mind, it occurred to you that you had never seen the house despite your numerous hikes; then again, you had no idea where you had walked, left being right and right being left, the only one certain direction being forward.

Again, who the fuck cared. You had never seen a cozier place in your lifetime; a lifetime that was soon going to end should you not will your useless legs to keep moving forward.

Reaching the porch staircase, you grabbed onto the beautiful wooden railing for balance, propping up to make the step.

And missing it.

You sagged against the railing, barely catching yourself before hitting your head. You propped back up, forcing your leg to rise higher, one step, two steps; the one remaining as tall as the Everest.

You sobbed again, lamenting the absence of the warm honey-like voice. Where was it now, huh? You were so close and needed another nudge, another-

The door of the house opened cautiously, revealing an outline of a figure, inviting light spilling around him; a tall, broad man, his face, the most handsome features you had ever set your eyes on, twisted in a frown and a flicker of horror.

For a beat of motionless silence, it flashed through your slippery mind who of the two of you appeared more frozen in the absurd scene; another beat, light and delicious warmth pouring from inside the house, like an oasis in the middle of a Siberian dessert.

And then he was moving, without a word, only sucking in a horrified breath as his hands slid under your arms and lifted your near deadweight with little effort, helping you not only to overcome the last step, but also the endless distance from the stairs into the doorway.

The interior was warm enough to make angels weep, enveloping you like a loving hug; but his touch felt like a central heating poured into your veins, his grip firm and certain despite the ice patterns having grown on your clothes surely cutting into his skin. Perhaps all alarm bells in your head should be ringing as he kicked the door shut behind you, leaving you alone in the middle of godknowswhere in a stranger’s house, a stranger who was now leaning you against the wall as your legs gave out at last and fought with the zipper of your coat no less, but they didn’t.

No alarm bells; all you heard was his gentle whisper.

“Let’s get you out of these.”

Zipper torn away, hands sliding under the fabric to peel it off of your violently shaking body, your teeth kept clattering.

“I’ll get you warm in no time.”

Your sweatshirt next. Your boots. Your socks; a cry of pain escaped your bluish lips, his warm hands gently enveloping your foot to allow you bask in his warmth.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this. We need to get all these off.”

Your shirt followed.

Your body, as if on instinct, moved slowly but willingly in tandem with him, small motions to aid him rid you of the cold until it didn’t.

You could feel the change of temperature bite into your icy wet skin, a lick of sharp pain; an instinct led you to reach out back for your clothes to fight the once again brutal change.

He grasped your hands, easily gathering your wrists in one palm, a gentle but uncompromising grip.

“No--- no! Look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked.

The squeeze on your wrists and the direct question finally pushed you from mindless haze to blurry reality.

It dawned to you that yes, climbing back into cold soggy clothes would not help.

Jaw quivering, teeth still clattering, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, only following his order. And oh, were you looking, the reality creeping in slowly, but gaining sharp edges just as a brief smile passed his lips.

“Good.”

That he was. Good.

And incredibly handsome.

Not but a few years older than you, dark well-trimmed beard complimenting his sharply cut features, elegant nose girls must have swooned over as much as over the surprisingly warm blue of his eyes and his slightly messy hair combed up in a way that called for your fingers to run through it. His shoulders and arms, while not enormous, gave impression of being able to carry you without too much issue, lean waist and long legs with muscular thighs making him look like some sort of a fever dream of yours; or in this case, a brain-freeze dream.

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom, alright? I’ll start a bath for you,” he explained, his hands already sliding under your body – and gods, was his touch like a taste of heaven, so deliciously and thoroughly warming against your painful goosebumps – rising to his full height and delivering on his promise as your hands automatically reached to wrap around the back of his neck for stability.

He did not even flinch at the icy touch; he did not even blink at the fact he was now carrying a woman, a perfectly vulnerable woman, stripped to her underwear sticking to her stiff nipples, so cold and soaked through that the fabric might as well be non-existent, completely see through because of course you had chosen white today. But he just kept walking. His gaze roamed, perhaps growing slightly darker, but mostly focused on your face and the path.

He truly must have been a figment of your imagination.

The cloudy droplets remaining on your skin seeped into the lovely light blue of his henley, a shaky apology spilling from your tongue, earning you another smile and a shake of his head, the former turning softer when you stuttered out a ‘thank you’ as well.

Without a word, he set you down once he reached his destination – bless the floor heating feeling like prickly heaven against the soles of your feet – moving to the bathtub and starting the water as you simply stood there, wrapping your arms around your body for both warmth and keeping your non-existent modesty. As he tested the temperature, he checked up on you from the corner of your eye, a swift head-to-toe glance before he took a small bottle by the tub, adding a few droplets to the water. Soon, the bathroom was filled with pleasant smell of fresh blossoms and herbs.

“We can’t have the water too hot as not to shock your system, but this essence can work true magic, believe me. Come on.”

An absurd idea of being thrown into the water and having your head held down under struck you, freezing your feet to the floor.

He remained stood straight by the tub, tall and large and so much stronger than you, hovering. His concerned eyes met yours, suddenly wide with fear.

A warm voice; a haunting whisper.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

A shudder rocked your body, still trembling with the cold having seeped deep enough to reach your very soul.

Come, my love.

I need you.

“Can you hear me, little bird?” a voice cut through the fog of your mind, causing you to wince, an image of a baby swallow of all birds flickering in your vision.

A hazy memory of the innocent sweet creature having fallen from its nest, your own small hands, hands of a curious child, tenderly holding it in both palms as you lifted it back to its home. There you go, little bird.

A sharper memory, hands stained with dirt as you covered the small bird in its shallow grave, having found its wing torn away just as a group of boys were running away from the lake, with a burning hope in your heart that the bad luck meant to follow those who kill a swallow would catch up with them. Your tears felt cold on your cheeks, so cold against the white-hot anger of having seen them hurt an innocent creature, a breathy whisper of sorrow and compassion on your lips. There you go, little bird. No one can hurt you now.

“I’d never hurt you, little bird. I promise.”

You blinked, eyes refocusing on his sincere features, his hands raised in the most universal gesture of meaning no harm.

What an odd phrasing, you thought. What an odd nickname. Endearment, really.

Another shudder ran down your spine, but your feet began moving on their own volition, shaky steps towards the bathtub, the man’s steps, in return, retreating to give you space.

Something in your heart trembled softly at the gesture, the smallest of relieved smiles in the corner of your lips, one he hesitantly reciprocated.

“I’ll leave you now. I will only bring some dry warm clothes and leave them by the door, okay? I’ll wait so you have time to get in,” he assured you. “I’ll knock and I won’t look.”

“W-why?”

The question fell from your lips before you could think twice about it, earning you a sad smile speaking of just how profoundly he understood the duality of the question.

Why wouldn’t you take advantage when it would be so, so easy?-- - Why do you, hell, everyone, think I am not worthy of staying for and looking?

“Because you deserve better, little bird,” he said, sincerity threaded in the simplicity of his words.

You deserve everything, the echo of the warm voice washed over you, fresh tears stinging in your eyes.

“Stay as long as needed. We have all the time in the world.”

With those words, he finally left the bathroom and closed the door. The key remaining in the lock from the inside; you could easily deny him access and force him to place the clothes outside. It would be a wise thing to do, too, to protect yourself, especially with how vulnerable you had already revealed yourself to a stranger, a much larger man who could choke the life out of you or take whatever he pleased.

So why did you want him to come here, to check up on you, to come closer and look, the thought awaking an entirely new kind of heat inside you?

You shook your head, peeling off your ice-cold underwear and climbed into the tub as fast as possible, even as you knew it might hurt at first, the reward only coming after a while.

Instead, an entirely different experience awaited you.

You couldn’t supress the moan of pure bliss as the water enveloped you and warmed you through in an instant with what could only be described as love; tenderly grasping your frozen-through flesh, caressing your skin in a way none of your lovers had ever bothered, leaving not warmth, but heat in its wake, your muscles relaxing and stringing with anticipation all at once.

You observed the water, not having even stilled yet, with mute wonder. Your skin, having earned grey undertones, was back to its natural colour without a tinge of pain, having you swallow a cry of relief. Essential oil or not, your stranger had not exaggerated; this indeed felt true magic.

It was a mere bath; but it felt so sinfully good your body turned pliant in an instant, your adrenalin-filled mind clearing and fogging in bliss.

Carding your fingers through the water curiously, it felt as if the water returned the affection tenfold, caressing your skin all over again, slow and sensual. A circle on the water surface with your middle finger felt like an invisible soft touch up your inner thighs, a teasing that left burning need in your core, so painfully out of place and oh so right and addictive. Swirling your hand in the water playfully; a sensation of hot lips attached to the apex of your thighs, firm and hungry.

“Good--- heavens-“ you sighed, head tipping back, your lips parting with a gasp, something in the back of your mind tingling with danger.

Having nearly died – and the realization should be like a bucket of ice-cold water, a terrible pun intended, but it was nothing short of exhilarating instead – you did not retreat from the danger, sinking into it instead.

The delicious warmth inside you only grew as if a reward, your fingers gliding through the water again, a breathless whimper on your lips as you felt a delicious stroke deep within your sex. Another curling touch to the water; a curling pressure against your special spot, stars flickering behind your eyelids.

“Fuck-“

Come, my love.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you-

A knock shattered your illusion; you grabbed the edges of the tub with a gasp, blinking open your eyes not having realized you had closed them, sinful images of the very man who now stood behind the door dissolving and yet remaining torturously vivid in your mind.

“Everything alright, little bird?”

“Y-yes. You can come--- come in,” you stuttered, heat of embarrassment washing over you like a tsunami.

God gracious-

What kind of a crazy person were you?Who in their right mind, no matter how scrambled from near-death experience, would lust and touch themselves – but were you? It felt like someone else did, and gods, did you love that feeling, needing more – who would do this, right in the bath that the kindest stranger, so respectful of their privacy, ran for them? Imagining him, no less, his large warm hands gripping you as if he never wanted to let you go, needed you more than air-

He slowly opened the door ajar, a careful, respectful peek inside the room as he slipped a pile of neatly folded clothes through the crack, his gaze finding yours.

“I hope you’re feeling better, little bird.”

Oh he had no idea just how much better. He couldn’t have and yet, something in his gaze sparkled, something dark akin to amusement, so alluring, quickly replaced by a flicker of contentment once you nodded, not trusting your voice, again. It was only then when you realized you were still slightly above water and perhaps, whether he wanted or not, he did get a peek of your breasts.

Not that he commented on it. Because out of two of you, he was apparently the decent one.

“Good.”

Without any prompting, he moved back.

He was already closing the door, when you blurted out the question. “Wait---! What’s your name?”

You gulped as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again.

“Andy. You can call me Andy.”

You tested the name on your tongue, a sweet treat you found yourself wanting to taste over and over.

He rewarded your efforts with a smile, one that had air catch in your throat.

He had smiled before, a heart-stopping curl of lips on an exceptionally handsome man. But now, for the first time, his smile reached his eyes; warmth like no other spread through your veins, a longing settling in your chest as the door closed and you were left alone – and wanting – once more.

The clothes were too big for you, sleeves and pantlegs too long, unsurprisingly; and unsurprisingly, they were as just as Andy said, warm. And very soft and comfortable, with tones of a scent that made your head spin in the best way, tempting you to bring the sleeves up to your face and breath in deeply just before you rolled them up.

They were just a pair of sweatpants, a henley and a sweatshirt, boxer briefs and a pair of fluffy socks; but they felt like home.

And so did the space.

Andy had carried you up the stairs; a beautiful staircase made out of light wood with traditional sturdy railing, offering a view of the ground floor. Sneaking from the bathroom however, it was not where you headed straight away, your eyes drifting towards the other two door at your level, your stomach making a funny flip; perhaps an office or a guest bedroom and his bedroom. The tingle in your fingertips as your hand reached out of its own volition for the doorhandle was almost unbearable; you had to clench your fist hard enough for your nails to leave moons on your already scraped palms.

You shook your head at your own creepy urge to explore, turning a sharp right towards the stairs instead.

Heading down where you could hear clinks of dishes, you took every step slow, fingertips brushing over the railing; it almost seemed to pulse with warmth of life, causing your breath to catch. Or perhaps it was the view of the ground floor.

When Andy had brought you inside, your vision was still rather blurry, all your attention focused on not dying of hypothermia and on the handsome stranger sent to you by heavens itself; now, when you had the opportunity to appreciate the interior, you did.

The living room seemed as if cut out from a lifestyle magazine, except it didn’t, little details making the scape appear actually lived in. A quilt thrown over the armrest of a small sofa, a pillow or two on each of the pair of armchairs in earthly tones of green, large enough to hide in comfortably with a book, the stony fireplace inviting for cosy winter evenings; the three books balanced on the coffee table in a hazardous stack whispered of how Andy might have spent some of his evening exactly like that. Four bookshelves filled with readings of various length, in between several pieces of art on the wood-panelled walls, not expensive on a first glances, but perhaps all the more loved. A pair of wide windows offered the last remnants of daylight, aided by the warm fire of the fireplace. Multiple plants to compliment the earthly tones and woodwork; and yet what made you smile was the abandoned empty cup, whispering of this place being someone’s home.

Resisting the urge to linger and perhaps examine just how soft was the quilt and how comfortable the armchair would be, you followed the noise to the kitchen; rather spacious as well, tuned to slightly darker colours than the rest of the house, the light entering from large windows prevented it from being too dark in daytime, the lamplights immersing it in warmth at nighttime. The wide counter stretched along two walls as well as the cabinets, creating enough space for variety of dried herbs, teas, spices and other casings as well as several basic appliances, the workspace almost robust in comparison to the dining table with three wooden chairs and soft emerald cushioning.

There seemed to be so much love and attention poured into the space, much like into the cozy living room, that couldn’t but you wonder which of the two were the true heart of the house to Andy.

As you entered and he turned to you with a smile, you couldn’t but believe it might be the kitchen, for he looked as if he belonged; and with an unfair pang of jealousy, you realized it was also hard to believe he lived in his home alone.

Then why did he give you his clothes, a voice in the back of your head questioned. Why did you see no photographs of a lovely wife or family? Why did he look at you from head to toe and back, meeting your gaze with his smile growing, a content, almost possessive glimmer in his eye?

You were losing your mind, you were sure; and the unfairly handsome stranger was the cause of it.

As he was the cause of you liking the fact all too much, the flash of a memory of how good it had felt to play with the water, imagining his hands mapping out every inch of your body, made you shiver and your breathing waver.

You needed to get a goddamn grip on yourself.

But how could you, when his warm voice washed over you, a gentle deep timbre, friendly, resonating in your ribcage?

“Hey. Good enough fit?”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, clearing your throat as your voice came out rather choked. “Thank you, Andy. I can’t repay you enough.”

“Nonsense. Come sit down,” he beckoned to the table lightly, taking a wooden tray with two cups of tea and a teapot and setting off the same direction. “I don’t know about your tastes, but I think this tea could be just what you need.”

You smiled hesitantly, your heart swelling at his offer. He had already done so much for you, helped you in, ran a downright magical bath for you, lent his clothes to you; sitting down and stealing more of his time felt like an imposition, taking all too much with no way to repay him indeed. And surely, he had so much better things to do.

But it would be impolite to refuse, you argued with yourself as your steps instinctively followed him, as you pretended it wasn’t the way the muscles on his shoulders and back shifted under the thinner navy shirt he had changed into hypnotized you, his mere presence, a certain quiet charm, tempting you to stay. And if was asking you to linger for a while longer… yes, it would be very impolite and you’d be your worst enemy.

After all, tea sounded like a wonderful idea for your suddenly parched throat.

“’Kay.”

His smile with a crinkle in the corner of his eyes was like a caress on your cheek, ending with his fingertips under your chin to tip your head back for a kiss.

You needed to get a grip on yourself. Fast.

As you sat down across the table from him and he set one of the cups in front of you, the strangely sweet herbal aroma washing over you as well as his attentive gaze, you caught yourself wrapping your hands around the cup not only for warmth, but for steadiness as well.

Your heart seemed too unsteady in the face of the handsome man, skipping a startled and entirely too pleased beat when you took note of him doing the same with his cup – almost comically small in his large hands – revealing an absence of a wedding ring.

Come to me.

Come, my love.

I’m all yours.

Heat flushed your face at your observation and at the painfully clear echo of a sweet voice, your head snapping back up.

Andy observed you with certain kind of curiosity in his blue eyes, wordless intensity that almost made his irises appear darker. It had your heart hammer in your chest with everything but fear. It was magnetic, almost coaxing you to climb over that damn table separating you and-

“Thank you,” you blurted out, nodding towards the tea, taking a quick centring breath and then cleared your throat. “You have a lovely home, Andy.”

“Thank you. It took a while but… I did make it into my own space.”

My own space, he said. A deliberate or coincidental choice of words?

Was he telling you, between the lines, that there was no one else and that he had noticed your ogling and didn’t mind, welcomed it even?

Or was it subtle reminder that you were but a guest invading on his own space and peace and his hospitality was nearing if not already overcoming its limit? People did not choose to live secluded like that on accident.

Mostly, you reminded yourself self-deprecatingly.

“Thank you for letting me into your home. I promise to be out of your hair soon,” you assured him. It earned you a disapproving frown.

“Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here. It’s pretty cold outside.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, lowering your gaze briefly. “I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Meeting his eye again at his thoughtful hum, there was something infinitely warm in his features; it travelled through your veins, a shot of ecstasy of being wanted spreading into every cell in your body and making you feel light and anchored at once.

“Don’t worry, little bird,” he said, one corner of his lips rising higher in almost a smirk as your breath caught at the endearment rolling off his tongue with what could only be liked to indulgence. “That’s impossible.”

He held your gaze, your heart thundering in your ribcage, minute breaths coming out short by the minute as he seemed to lean in closer, stealing oxygen from your lungs, heat pooling in your belly. Fuck, he was so close, tempting lips framed by the beard you just knew would be soft and just the right amount of harsh against your skin, against the intimate flesh of your thighs-

“What happened at the lake?”

You startled in your seat a little, hands twitching, a powerful painful skip of a beat of your heart, the intimate bubble having grown around you popping with a loud snap.

“W-what?” you breathed out. “How did you know-“

“It’s the only body of water nearby,” Andy responded, voice perfectly levelled, oblivious to the cold fingers of fear creeping to the back of your neck. He smiled even, despite the concerned lines on his forehead. “Suppose you didn’t decide to get a dip in the fountain and walked all the way from the centre of the town.”

I’d never hurt you, little bird, I promise, his earlier words echoed in your head, followed by another almost haunting promise.

I’ll keep you safe.

And then, a sultry one:

I’ll keep you.

“Oh.”

You laughed nervously, shoulders slumping.

It felt so silly to be thrown off guard by his question; it made perfect sense he’d figure out you were by the lake. And you had to admit, that quip of his was quite funny too – as much as it was clear he added it to put you at ease.

“Eh, sorry,” you muttered, unsure where to look, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your hands found the cup again like a salvation; a steady point and the ideal excuse.

Taking a sip, you were shocked at the alluring taste; sweet with just a hint of something savoury, tingling on your tongue and sending pleasant heat all the way down your spine, euphoria exploding behind your eyelids. You didn’t remember closing your eyes but when they fluttered open, you imagined this was what seeing the world in colour for the first time after years of being blind felt.

You took another sip almost instinctively, certain it had to only be the first impression, sweetly warm liquid a blessing for your body; but it tasted just as delicious, striking every chord of your senses just right and beyond.

“Good?”

You refocused your gaze on Andy, his eyes firmly set on you, an almost mischievous twinkle in his irises.

“Like nothing I’ve had in my life,” you said bluntly, earning a chuckle and – was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he lowered his gaze a took a sip as well?

“Uhm, thank you. It’s one of my favourite blends I’ve ever made.”

That stunned you.

“You’ve made this? That’s incredible.”

Granting yourself another taste, you then set the cup down almost religiously. Andy watched you do so, a pleased smile in the corner of his mouth, having returned to holding your gaze, expectant.

Right. He had asked you a question before you experienced a little taste of goddamn Eden on your tongue.

You taste like Eden on my tongue, honey.

A shiver ran down your spine, your mind scrambling for the ice-cold memory of the lake, so wistfully distant and yet digging its claws into you all over again.

“And uhm, to answer your question. I just… I was by the edge, slipped and fell right in,” you said, shrugging it off to hide a different kind of shudder, freezing water as if beginning to pool at your feet, slowly swallowing your ankles and creeping up ad up…. “I didn’t-- the ice wasn’t too thick and I just--- it was… I barely made it out.”

You didn’t realize your hands had started to tremble as your voice trailed off, vision blurring slightly, until a warm hand covered it, steading your hold on the cup. The air had grown too thick in your lungs, making it difficult to breathe in; and then it was gone along with the water, with just a few words and a lingering touch.

“I’m glad you did,” Andy whispered, voice as gentle as his touch. “I’m glad you found this house too. That you’re safe.”

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

Concern. Care. A ghost of a promise you had trouble grasping, a voice so close to your ear you could almost feel the warm breath on your skin, but you knew that should you turn, you’d only see air. So you didn’t.

And you could not keep looking forward either, not anymore. Unable to bear the sincere weight of Andy’s words, you instead glanced at his hand enveloping yours so easily, so naturally; so right. As if it belonged there and always had.

But it didn’t, did it?

Your hands, you – didn’t seem to belong anywhere. Never had. No one had ever wanted you to stay. No one had ever cared enough.

Not until Andy.

“Well at least someone is…” you muttered absently, swallowing the sardonic chuckle.

And how pathetic was that? Not of him, but of you? A complete stranger, taking you home like a stray nearly-drowned kitten on Christmas Day, because no one else wanted you and he was the only one to give a damn.

Gods, how sorry he had to feel for you? How fucking lame was it of you to have even thought of him such sinful thoughts when all he must have seen was a-

A gentle press to your hand had you squeeze your eyes shut as to keep the tears suddenly gathering at bay.

“Hey now. What do you mean by that? I’m sure there are plenty of people who worry about you, family, friends… a partner,” he added after a brief hesitation and was that not a case on point.

Of course he was hesitant.

Why would there be one? Who would want you as their partner?

You scoffed.

“Sure,” you echoed.

Heavy silence settled over the room, suffocating and itching, only interrupted by your slow wavery breaths. Andy’s hand remained over yours, as motionless as he seemed overall; a scene frozen in time.

Was he judging you? Resisting the urge to laugh at you? Pitying you? Or did he feel nothing at all, so profoundly disinterested now that you slipped so carelessly, opening up?

That was how things always were, weren’t they? Once façades began to crumble, once people started to reveal true colours, they were vulnerable to judgement; and with the mystery cracked like an old toy, the intrigue was lost, along with their interest.

Was that what was happening now? All the kind care, all the sweet words Andy had said, losing meaning because they never held one in the first place?

Swallowing thickly, you looked up, unable to bear not knowing, preferring to tear off the band-aid at once.

A lump grew in your throat as you caught his eye, worry etched into his expression, a soft frown above an even softer gaze. Compassionate. Gentle. And laced with an inexplicably deep understanding.

He might as well be staring into your soul.

And you didn’t know how; but suddenly the dam just burst.

And you told him all, barely pausing to take a breath.

You told him about having been the pariah all your life, about feeling so alone, only finding solace in nature and fables and myths, at never being enough, for your family, for your friends, colleagues and boss… and clearly for every single one of your boyfriends since two of them had simply left and the latest one hadn’t even had the decency to leave before jumping into someone else’s bed.

About being but a side character to your own story, because no one ever believed you could be important enough to be the lead. And perhaps not even you; not anymore.

But the funny thing was that as the words spilled, you didn’t sob once. As if someone had untangled your tongue and the coil of pain in your chest at once, you went through tender, achy points of your life as if you were listing important plot points of someone else’s story, someone you did not even care for, really.

You wept silently, voice hoarse but steady, tears of not pity nor rage but cold comfort streaming down your burning cheeks.

You sipped your tea in between and all you felt was relief; speaking these things to a man who was basically a stranger, a stranger who showed you more kindness than all people you know had in a year and judged you less than all your past company combined,was incredibly liberating.

It felt like letting go. It felt like dropping dead weight you hadn’t realized you had been carrying, just so you could rise to greatness.

And something unreadable in Andy’s unwavering gaze whispered with tender determination that he believed that was exactly what you were meant to do for some reason.

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, having relaxed in his grip, turning it over to caress the sensitive skin of your wrist, sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to your toes.

“You deserve so much better than your family’s poison, little bird. As for those assholes, the last pathetic piece of shit in particular… well, I bet he doesn’t even realize what’s he lost, he’s just that daft.”

Normally, you had tendency to defend Jason when anyone bad mouthed him, the habit sticking for days after he had revealed himself to be a lying cheating bastard; but now, you remained quiet, a corner of your lips even rising up in a genuine smile as Andy’s finger seemed to draw a nonsensical pattern over your skin as if he wasn’t spitting profanities. Your gaze, tears having already dried, lifted to meet his.

You felt warm; so thoroughly warm as if your bones had been never known a day of summer, achy in the constant cold, until now.

Until this strangely charming man whose silence could speak volumes, whose words felt like a balm to your soul; because unlike when spoken by others, his words threaded lace as tenderly as a spiderweb around the wounds in your heart, cradling it with gentleness and a promise of steadiness.

You couldn’t put your finger on it; something about Andy made you want to believe. And to give in; to anything. To give in to something you hadn’t even realized you had buried and was now creeping its way out to the sun, eager to bask in his comfort and praise.

And gods, the quiet powerful outrage in his voice made your heart flutter, your core stirring with heat and whispering that ‘pathetic’ was the last thing that came to Andy’s mind when looking at you. The heat having taken permanent residence deep within you had nothing to do with the warmth of the bath or the tea and everything to do with his ever-present touch, the rich timbre of his voice, his undivided attention.

“And you’re never alone, little bird.”

Gods, he was handsome; almost maddeningly so. He must have chosen secluded life, you thought; attractive people like him had it easy, people agreeing with them left and right, tripping over their feet to be in their social circle and tend to their needs, bask in their light.

And he was quiet, respectful and so incredibly inviting, making you open yourself up and wishing to be seen, because being seen by him meant being appreciated; it was too much to resist.

“I’m sorry I sprang all this on you,” you said, so dully in comparison to the power behind his own words, but as you did, you realized you should be apologizing. In fact, you should be going; it was getting dark and as lovely as Andy’s attention was… burdening him with your past was the least attractive thing to do and the crawl of embarrassment found its way out onto your skin, your hand retreating from his. “I… I don’t know what got into me. I should go; I definitely am overstaying my welcome at this point.”

Andy tilted his head, brows creasing; not in quite in anger, only discontent. 

“I told you; that is impossible. We haven’t even finished the tea,” he pointed out, already reaching to pour you another cup. “And I’m glad you got this out of your chest, it feels like you needed that. And I was happy to listen… as much as I feel like someone should teach your asshole ex how to treat a woman as precious as you.”

You gulped at his last words, the flutter in your heart inevitable at his praise, your exhale slow and shaky as Andy’s fingers carefully found your hand again once he finished serving the tea. You hesitated in retreating your hand again, the touch almost electrifying.

You were flattered; so awfully flattered and absurdly needy for this man and his attention which seemed to go way beyond what you could imagine in your wildest dreams.

It would be so easy to be convinced to stay a little longer, perhaps explore what turn the afternoon, evening or even night might take; which was why you had to leave. Because this was not you.

Was it?

Andy’s fingers interlaced with yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “If I had a woman like you, I’d cherish her every day. I’d treat her like a damn queen.”

You couldn’t explain it; the sensation came as sudden as lightning from clear skies and just as powerful; his words like a tender kiss to your throat, right over your carotid, your eyes fluttering shut, your breath stuck in your lungs.

A hazy image of a living room, a cup with a couple of swallows drawn in thin lines on the coffee table, fading into a blur as the focus shifted on one of the armchairs; you sprawled in it like a queen indeed, one hand laid on the armrest in a fierce grip as your fingers interlaced with those of another, the other hand tangled in his hair.

Bare thighs held apart by Andy’s shoulders wedged in between, a large hand pressing firmly against the flesh of your inner thigh as if burning a brand, his tongue licking deep into your pulsing channel, his beard the most delicious burn against your sensitive folds, his groans and your moans mingling in music of eager lovers, head thrown back with your throat raw from the cries of his name.

“Andy, please-“

The potent jolt of pleasure in your core snapped you back to reality with a gasp on your lips, furious blinks focusing your vision back to Andy’s face; there was a gleam in his eye, but it was his smile, so genuine as he squeezed your fingers reassuringly, so damn gentle and completely unaware of how aroused and wet you were, that had you feel a pang of shame in your gut.

What was wrong with you-

“Like you deserve. You deserve so much better and so much more, little bird.”

You deserve everything.

I will give it to you.

You’re mine to keep and cherish-

“Thank-- thank you,” you stuttered out, head swimming with the echoes of the poignant image, swearing you could feel brands tenderly burned into your skin where Andy had touched you, a tingle in your core as he tasted you so indulgingly, an echo of his beard burning your intimate flesh--- except Andy had not done either of these things outside of your messed-up head.

“Nothing to thank for, little bird,” he said, a lopsided smile adorning his lips even as his brows creased in a soft frown. “We’re missing something here. How would you feel about cookies with your tea?”

Staying for another cup of tea was a terrible, wonderful idea.

Basking in Andy’s presence with his attention focused solely and so unwaveringly on you flushed your cheeks with heat and kept stirring the barely containable explosive attraction to him; but worst of all, it lowered your inhibitions bit by bit, your confidence, as shaky as it was these days, growing under his touch and seemingly genuine interest.

Interest in you.

You had long abandoned the idea of him viewing you as completely pathetic; and with each inch of space between you disappearing, your heartbeat was picking up. With each half-smile, with every question about what you considered the most boring cliché parts of you, you were being pulled into his orbit, intrigued by the lack of sharing information about himself all the more.

“I’m not all that interesting, little bird,” he said when you asked. Instead of an answer, you were gifted another inch of distance erased, his stormy blue eyes boring into yours. “I���d rather hear all about you.”

He was a beautiful puzzle; and the more enigmatic he appeared in comparison to you as you stripped a layer after layer of yourself, the more you craved to figure him out.

And with every entry into his mind kindly denied, you found yourself craving to explore him in the physical world then at least.

To feel the muscles of his arms shift under your palm, to confirm his lips tasted as sweet as the tea he had been drinking with you, to find out just how much of a mark his beard could leave behind when his lips trailed down the column of your throat, over the sensitive skin of your thighs. The need burned within you, causing you to shift in your seat several times already in search for friction, your body almost beyond your control as you turned your still connected hands so your smaller one covered the back of his, most of your willpower focused on not slipping your fingers under the hem of Andy’s sleeve to brush your fingers over his forearm, the very forearm you could almost feel pressing against your throat softly as he pushed you against the wall and drove into you with wild abandon, over and over until your knees could not hold you-

“Give me something, Andy,” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as you felt your breathing quickening again with the unholy images painted in your head. “What do you enjoy doing? What is your favourite meal, favourite colour, season even… scent or taste?”

Oh honey, you know my favourite taste.

I’ll have you taste it on my tongue once I’ve had my fill.

A scorching shudder rushed down your spine, your hand automatically reaching for your cup as your throat turned dry for the n-th time in Andy’s presence.

“I enjoy working with herbs,” he admitted after a while, an absent, fond note to his voice. “Essential oils. Natural remedies. Teas and… others--- What?”

For the first time in a while, his words did not provoke a visceral reaction; not the kind that kindled the crackling heat within you. Rather curiosity and admiration, your smile softening without your permission.

“I know you said you’ve made the tea… hell, probably the essential oil for the bath too.” He nodded in confirmation, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “It’s just… I would have never guessed. You…”

“What is it?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, worried you’d offend him not by your thoughts, but by your clumsiness. But a squeeze on your hand encouraged you gently, having you lick your lips as you gathered your scattered thoughts.

They all seemed so scattered in the past hours, gathering only for all of them to be pulled to Andy and the intense stormy gaze of his.

Storm. Danger and freedom. Freedom to be.

“It’s silly, you just… you seem like the kind of person whose mind is always racing. This… quiet force, keeping to yourself, intelligent, so strictly rational,” you tried to explain, already feeling like you were failing.

“Are you saying I’m a madman for my interests, little bird? A charlatan?”

Something flashed in his eye, but not angry; challenging almost, tantalizing, making your breath hitch.

Try me, honey.

Oh? Look at you, giving up so easy.

Giving yourself up to me.

You shook your head, both to erase the sultry voice in your head and the sinful images it painted and to deny Andy’s words.

“No. I’m saying many people would argue that trusting herbal remedies and nature’s healing power is everything but rational. But-“

“But you are not one of those people, are you?” he finished for you, a slow smile spreading on his lips, just a hint of condescending that seemed to pull you in closer despite your better judgement. “You know better than that, little bird, don’t you?”

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

You gulped, willing your lips curl up in a smile. “I do. That’s why I keep coming back from the city. Nature will always feel like home.”

Andy hummed, a satisfied smirk that felt like a lick straight up your core settling on his lips, causing your free hand to curl in a fist at the sudden blissful assault on your senses--- gods what was happening with you?

“Speaking of power… you called me a quiet force. What did you mean by that?”

Caught off guard in more ways than one, you cursed the slip of his--your tongue.

“Well, I didn’t mean that as a bad thing-”

“Explain it to me then, little bird,” he coaxed, gaze hypnotizing you, seeing so deep you were sure he was becoming aware of the effect he had on you, if he hadn’t known the whole time, that goddamn smirk of his almost wolfish, a taunt you desperately wanted to respond to as your body had been for hours now. “If it’s not bad, what is it?”

It was obvious it had to be the opposite then; but he wanted you to say it. There was no denying the heady tension in the room, setting your skin aflame; there was no denying he was flirting and he was not at all subtle about it anymore and yet, the cold silver of insecurity whispered to you that you should hold back, hold up the last defence before he could destroy you completely.

“Sometimes… there’s power in silence,” you whispered, honestly and yet evasively. “It makes words even more powerful then.”

He considered your words for a moment, gaze flickering down to your lips, your tongue instinctively flicking out to wet the sudden dryness.

“So you’d rather we sit in silence?”

But you make such beautiful noises for me.

Don’t hide from me.

Let me hear it all.

You were going to suffocate.

You were going to suffocate if Andy’s hand didn’t move, didn’t grasp your wrist and pulled you up, his body colliding with yours so your lips could meet and he could drink the answer straight from your mouth just for his other hand to sneak between your bodies to tease and taunt you with his fingers, sliding so easily into your sweatpants, his clothes like a claim on you, more of a claim to have them pool at your feet as his fingers finally breached you-

Your breaths were coming out short despite your efforts to slow them down, your core pulsing as if you had been kept on the edge of bliss for hours, knowing the feeling all too well despite never having had a lover attentive enough to bother with even five minutes.

“Not-- not quite. I like… talking to you.”

“Mmm, me too. Why is that?”

You shrugged with a shaky smile, shifting in your seat and rubbing your thighs together as his voice, that damn voice, Andy’s and the sultry one in your head sounding just like him, felt like a relentless teasing in its own right.

“I--- I like hearing what you have to say. And I… like your voice. It’s warm… gentle.”

And sinful. Powerful.

So powerful you could command me to get on my knees for you and I would, without a single thought, stripped bare if you wished so, lips parted for you and awaiting, dripping down my thighs like I am now, pleading for you to use me, basking in your possessive touch, gentle or rough or both, crying my voice hoarse when begging for more-

The potency behind your own thoughts had you jump to your feet with a loud scrape on a chair that seemed to barely rattle Andy as you slipped from his grasp, his gaze simply following you, the smile remaining on his lips.

“I should go-“

He straightened in his chair, forearms leaning onto the table, his sleeves riding up just an inch, the silver of skin causing your head spin with the urge to touch it, to lead him to lay it over your own throat as you’d walk backwards toward a wall-

“Stay, little bird. It’s already dark and… don’t you want a reprieve from the chaos, from the terrible behaviour of your relatives?” he questioned, both reasons somehow seeming like but an afterthought. “You should stay. I have a guest room if that’s what you’d like.”

But I don’t think you do.

I think you want something else.

All you need is to ask, honey.

Ask and I’ll make sure gods themselves hear your cries when you shatter for me over and over and still beg for more.

“I-“

He reached out for your wrist, long fingers circling it easily and pressing just a little.

The touch rushed through you like a wildfire, whiting out your vision.

A large sculpted body covering yours, lips drinking hungrily and sharing the sweet tangy taste on his tongue as you whimpered, craving more and more and more. One hand circled around your wrist to keep your hand pinned next to your head, his free hand roaming, pinching, squeezing, until it settled on your hip, grabbing firmly to guide you as he thrusted into you, so deeply and fully, his tongue wickedly exploring your mouth and swallowing your every plea to never stop, his name the only thing in your mind and on your lips, your other hand fisting the sheets as you desperately tried to meet his thrusts halfway; to have him reach deeper, to own you, to mark you, to make you his, only you, only him, always.

The pleasure pulsed within you as strong as if you were just there, nearly causing your knees to buckle, your hand barely catching onto the edge of the table.

And all of sudden all you could see was Andy’s face, smirk wiped off to make space for concern as he towered over you, one hand firmly holding yours while the other carefully rested on your hip to support you.

“Are you alright, little bird?”

No. No you weren’t.

You were losing your goddamn mind and he was not helping and you should go whether it was dark or not, because if you didn’t, you’d grab Andy by the hem of his stupidly ordinary shirt that was hiding the most delicious body and you’d kiss him deep, begging him to do to you all the things your mind had conjured in his presence, pleading him to have you however he’d like, to use your body in the most depraved ways he could think of.

“I’m fine,” you choked out, stepping back hastily and on instinct beaten into you – verbally and more than once literally – since childhood, you grabbed your empty cup and walked to the sink, feeling Andy’s worried and bewildered gaze on the back of your head as you started the water.

The worry etched into his gaze just before you escaped his grasp – so genuine and kind – made you wonder just how out of your mind you were.

How much of the flirting you had imagined as an aftermath of hearing a voice so painfully similar to his giving you promises dripping with sin? How much of it had been real? Your own body was your worst enemy, betraying your attraction to the man who hadn’t hesitated to help you, respectful when he had had all the chances to take advantage---

Just how much of his actions had been sincere, nothing but selfless aid to a person in need, that your brain had twisted into a desire of his to mirror your own?

Your hands trembled as you washed the cup, the echoes of pleasure still travelling through your body, now soured with doubt and fear of your own wild imagination.

Andy’s warm presence behind you made your breath hitch, tension building in your back as all your body called for was to drop the damn ceramics and lean back to his front, rubbing like a cat in need of affection, to grasp his hand and lead it to the apex of your thighs and just press to relieve some of the painful throbbing. He reached around you to stop the water as you stood taut like a bowstring about to snap, feeling his breath fan over your cheek, your lips parting to taste it on instinct, eyes falling shut.

Please, you wanted to whisper or scream, not sure what you would beg for. Just please.

“No, little bird… queens don’t do the dishes. Less so when they are guests in my house.”

You gulped as you felt him take the cup from your now motionless hands, setting it down carefully to the sink, the heat radiating off his chest too much to bear.

“I’m… not a queen.”

The words were meant to be filled with humour, self-deprecation even, but you barely spoke at all, throat almost too tight to get the words through.

“I will treat you like one,” he promised, a tempting rumble in his chest, his lips mere inch from your burning skin, his beard scratching it just slightly, sending you spiralling into madness. “If you let me.”

Let me, honey.

Let me break you in ways you didn’t know you always yearned to be broken and then put you back together.

Ler me claim you.

And fuck, you should go.

You really, really should go, but as you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the window, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as if you had a fever, his presence the problem and the remedy at once, you couldn’t will your feet to move.

As if trapped in his orbit as he watched you in the reflection too, eyes as dark and burning as coal, his gravity pulled you in; you turned your head towards him, hesitantly meeting his gaze, instantly finding yourself trapped in it.

Scorching heat licked at your core, spreading through your veins like a wildfire when his fingers traced along your jaw, lips hovering so close to yours as if still asking permission and yet, his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth as if he was the one who couldn’t contain himself. You shuddered violently at the simple touch, your muscles clenching harder as not to fold and lose your last crumbling defences.

Why resist, little bird?

You’re already mine, aren’t you?

Always have been.

“Stay, little bird. Stay and I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated… loved on,” he coaxed, gaze flickering to your lips having pressed in thin line to contain the whimper threatening to spill; his thumb brushed over your lower lip and tugged lightly, leaving no hope for the next needy sound not to escape. Gods, the spark of lust in his eye, the satisfied drop in his voice at seeing your body betray your desire, gravitating towards his. “That’s it. Let me show you how precious you are. How beautiful… how tempting.”

He released your lips from his touch only in favour of skimming his own over your mouth, nothing short of a temptation, as if you weren’t already seduced by the sweet promise alone.

Shock of pleasure rippled through you at the barely-there contact, images flashing though your mind anew, Andy kneeling between your legs as you lied sprawled in the armchair, your body trapped under his so sweetly and torturously as he filled you like no other, his lips devouring you as you laid facing him on the very bed, bandaged hand on your hip, his dextrous fingers sneaking to tease you open for him, his hardness pressing against you, his name a breathless plea falling from your lips.

And as the mirages dispersed, the throbbing need stayed.

“Please,” you heard yourself whisper and for the second time today, the dam broke, letting all you had been keeping for what felt like eternity spill out without control.

The second his lips fully pressed to yours, you were lost and felt finally found.

Explosive desire all but set you aflame as his hand moved to your hip to spin you just so he could corner you against the sink, his other hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you steady.

And fuck did you need to be kept steady, because his lips didn’t explore carefully; he devoured you right away, your desperate whimper swallowed by his tongue licking into your mouth, your hands having somehow scrambled to grip the fabric of his shirt and fisting it as you pulled him even closer, every inch where his body touched yours a salvation by hellfire; every empty space between you like icy winds. 

Coming out for air felt like drowning in the frozen lake all over again, body only warmed by Andy’s lips tracing a burning path down your throat, the zipper of your hoodie tugged down, fabric pushed aside to reveal the painfully stiffened nipples under the thin fabric of the henley, a satisfied groan vibrating against your carotid as Andy cupped your breast a flicked his thumb over the hardened peak.

He might have as well relentlessly played your body for hours, the surge of pleasure causing your hips to meet his in a frantic search for more, your head spinning. You were burning. You were burning and you were cold and you were going to lose your damn mind unless he spun you around, tore your clothes away and filled you up with his cock this very fucking second-

“Andy, please-“

“Please what, little bird?” he chuckled darkly, the scrape of his beard and the huff of air against your throat unfairly spine-tingling.

His hand sneaked under the henley, fingertips brushing over your belly, over your ribs, squeezing your flesh higher and higher, his other hand carding into your hair and not quite tugging, but keeping it in a firm enough grip to prevent you from escaping the assault of his mouth on your throat.

As fucking if you wanted to escape this-

“I need you,” you choked out, feeling the desperate tremble in your body.

Somewhere back in your mind was a small voice wondered how you had never needed a man like this, wanted yes, but not like this; you craved him. For this, for his touch, for his mouth back on yours, for a single point of contact you’d claw your way out of hell.

You released the dead grip you had on his shirt just to slide under the fabric and the pulse in your core at finally truly touching him was nothing short of unholy and you needed more.

“Oh honey. What do you need from me?”

He rocked his hips against yours, his hardness pressing briefly against your mound and you whimpered, your knees nearly buckling.

Yes, yes, yes, again-

“Maybe this?” he suggested huskily as he repeated the motion against your arching body, a cry escaping your lips, feverish words you no longer had a control over spilling as the all-consuming fire licked at your insides.

More, more, more-

“Yes. Please--- touch me, take me-- make me yours- please”

Andy stepped back, your body suddenly feeling freezing cold, his hold on your hair easing so you could face him as he stared straight into your eyes – the perfect picture of desire personified with crimson lips curled in a smirk and irises almost swallowed by how wide his pupils were blown. Absurd fear of him rejecting you now, now after he had given you a taste, filled your lungs like icy waters, reluctantly melting as his broad palm made its way down your front torturously slow, fingers almost absently tangling in the laces of your sweatpants as he stopped just so far from where you needed him the most.

He held you gaze just as you held your breath in anticipation, his fingers sliding under the hem of your sweats, under the waistband of the boxershorts and lower and lower as he spoke, the sight of him hypnotizing like eyes of a predator to a willing prey.

“Oh little bird, that is exactly my intention,” he assured you, barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears, your whole body vibrating with need. Please, please, touch me- “But I’ve been a good host, haven’t I? So I think--- fuck, you’re drenched for me, so fucking needy--- that it’s time for me to feast and taste as much of you as I want.”

You didn’t quite hear him over the whine crawling out of your throat as he dipped his fingertips in your slick only to quickly retreat his hand and leave you so torturously empty again.

But gods, he kissed you and you could breathe again even as it wasn’t enough, his grip on your hip steering you to move, to walk backwards, your vision a blur, all your senses swallowed by Andy; his hot lips and skilled tongue, demanding touch echoing your own, grabbing you, searching almost frantically for places he hadn’t explored yet, mirroring your own greedy hands, your sweatshirt lost somewhere on the way as he steered you to the right, your nostrils full of his scent and the sweet aroma of the tea indeed having lingered on his lips—and suddenly you were stumbling and falling, soft landing in Andy’s arm as he lowered you to one of the armchairs, pulling at your sweatpants and boxers at once, his touch finally back where you craved it more than anything you ever had in your damn life, his name a broken prayer on your lips.

And then his lips were gone from yours, trailing down your neck, a graze of teeth that made you see stars, his thumb circling your sensitive bud and causing your hips to jerk into his hand, a sweet chuckle dripping of sin filling your ears.

“So responsive, little bird, so needy… don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need,” he vowed, your eyes opening half-mast only to witness him retreat and sit back on his heels, his hands planted on your knees, mouth attaching to your inner thigh just above your knee, a poor substitute to the taste of heaven his thumb had offered you.

He was tormenting you; he was tormenting you, denying you what you craved, not only stalling but stalling further, his mouth leaving hot wet trail up your drenched inner thigh, the sensitive flesh burning under the soft scrape of his beard, your legs spreading in mute yet urgent plea. And still, he continued indulgingly slow; your hand twitched as to move and give yourself some relief, but an instinct warned you that it could only prolong your torture.

“Andy-“

He smiled at you from where he had just pressed a bruising kiss to your flesh, eyes dark as the night itself, glimmering in the dancing flames of the fireplace reflecting on the goddamn mug you had spied earlier too, reminding you of how his lips had touched the edge of his cup with indulgence, how he had met your gaze as if he had known, as if he had known already he was about to drink from you.

It was not enough; nothing was enough, and you shifted in his grip, your hips sliding lower on the chair, core pulsing in emptiness.

“Please, please, Andy, don’t keep me waiting, I need you-“

One of his warm palms sprawled over your lower belly, pressing hard to keep you still, his tongue licking a languid stripe up your skin glistening with your juices, and he was so so so close-

“Fuck, honey, you taste so sweet… such a vision, begging for me so prettily.”

You didn’t recognize your voice as you sobbed in frustration of being praised in vain when he didn’t touch you when you NEEDED IT--- and then you were throwing your head back as wave of ecstasy washed over you, Andy finally flicking his tongue over the cut of you.

You grabbed the armrests with such vigour you might worry about breaking it had you not been delirious with want, hips bucking forward and this time, Andy had mercy on you – he groaned at the taste of you, licking with indulgence, twisting his tongue just right, his hold on you easing as the pressure inside you built and built and you were meeting his advances with enthusiasm, your hand finding purchase on his hair, to ground yourself, to beg him to continue without words because you had no voice.

You were tittering on the edge of release, every single cell in your body singing praise to Andy’s name for the waves of bliss almost reaching you, when his hand found yours and tore it from the armrest, fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing.

You would have never thought that could be your undoing, but it was.

Stars exploded in your veins and you tasted stardust on your tongue, a raw cry torn out from your throat, your back arching as white-hot pleasure shot down your spine and curled in your core with the heat of supernova being born.

And it wasn’t stopping. Andy wasn’t stopping, instead he pushed harder against your hips as you writhed against the overwhelming sensations, his tongue curling and breaching you, tasting the very depths of you and your cries were a breathless plea to the gods to have mercy on you and to Andy to give you more and more and more-

His pleased groan resonated in your bones, the force of bliss nearly shattering them to dust for the winds to take; but instead, Andy’s grip on your body moulded them into something torturously  beautiful and divine, the sound pulled from your lips nearly unhuman as you fell apart, the world tilting from its axis and balancing on the only steady point of the damn universe, on his hold on you, his tongue gathering proves of your undoing with lustful glee, his thumb drawing circles and swirls over your hipbone in silent approval.

By the time his mouth finally retreated, you were shaking, chest rising and falling in rapid successions, your vision blurry with tears as he rose to his feet and released your hand in favour of cradling your wet cheek, the forefinger of his other hand following the salty path of your tears, painting your swollen lips with them tenderly.

Even with vision unfocused, you were all too aware of the straining fabric of his pants, of the lustful glimmer in his eyes, lips shining with your arousal curling in an almost sweet smile.

“You’re stunning when you fall apart for me, little bird. Even more so than I imagined,” he declared softly, so painfully softly you couldn’t but whimper at the praise, the sound muted as his thumb pressed against your lips much like back in the kitchen, this time pushing its way inside your mouth, gaze zeroing on the eager reaction of your body.

You sucked his finger right in, almost blinding desire bursting in your belly, a carving for just a taste of him, for feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you’d swirl your tongue around him, heady aroma of sex filling your head. You needed. You needed to feel him and your hand acted without your permission, reaching to stroke his hardness, to move to kneel in front of him right there and feel the hard floor against your knees because it wouldn’t matter, it would be fucking privilege to-

Andy’s hand landed on your shoulder, light but firm, his eyes still feasting on you hungrily sucking on his thumb with a heart-stopping smile, tongue sneaking out to lick his lips as you still reached to feel the weight of him in your hand at least, moaning around his finger as the true craving – to have him fill you where it mattered the most – rocked through your entire body.

“So eager, little bird… but not now,” he retreated his hand from your mouth, gently slapping away your hand from him and pulling you to your shaky feet instead, body flush to his, lips on your ear. “You asked me to make you mine and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

You weren’t sure how exactly you got upstairs between stumbling on your boneless feet, your greedy hands and all-consuming assaults of his lips on yours; but what you were all too aware of was how whenever his lips detached from your mouth, you were already missing them as if it had been eons, and when he released you from his hold in order to strip his pants and boxers and to rid you of your top, it made your body cry for his attention all the more.

You had but a glimpse of his length and it made your mouth water, your core pulsing in desperate emptiness all the more painful when he sat on the edge of the bed and you could finally take him in your hand, appreciating the smooth warmth length, precum leaking, inviting you to stroke him and sink onto him right away.

“Come to me, little bird,” he husked, tugging at your wrist to have you straddle his thighs, hand like a burning brand landing on your hip, already pushing you down as if you needed encouragement.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer when you felt the head of his thick cock catch at your entrance, hips bucking in foolish need to take him all at once, to have him fill you to the brim.

“Yes, little bird, I’m right here… look at me.”

His broad palm cradled your cheek, sliding along your jaw to grip just a little too tight and force you to meet his hungry gaze even as your own irises must have glazed over when you slowly begun sinking down on him, satisfaction and greed shooting through your veins and curling in your lower belly, your thighs shaking with effort to hold yourself back.

Until you couldn’t.

With a desperate whimper you pushed your hips flush to his despite the slight tinge of pain, the reward of white-hot pleasure all-consuming, Andy’s groan like the sweetest melody and a soothing caress down your back.

Fuck, he was breath-taking and you could die right there and hell you would die if you didn’t move, didn’t feel the deliciously thick length of him drag slowly through your pulsing walls, driving into you again and again, filling you like no other, slow, fast, deep, sloppy, it didn’t matter, you just needed more, you needed to move, bracing on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his bicep, you needed-

He pressed firmly on your hip to keep you still, your cry of despair at being denied swallowed by his mouth, his smile wicked and addictive, only feeding your desire to feel him more, your muscles straining as you fought to rock your hips just a little, needing the smallest friction like your life depended on it.

And Andy wouldn’t let you.

With strength beyond comprehension, he held your middle in a cage, his mouth having never ceased to devour you as his free hand slid from your face, fingers trailing over your collarbone to your breast, fondling all too briefly as you tried to arch into his touch, before he moved on over your belly, pads of fingers circling in the slick dripping down his length, a languid caress where you were connected like a bolt of lightning down your spine urging you to try and thrust forward only to remain achingly still, a whimper pushing past your lips.

It bordered on cruelty; your core pulsed with such force it almost hurt, every cell in your body as if on fire only Andy could quench but instead continued to tease you, groaning into your mouth as he indulged at the sensation of being sheathed in your throbbing warmth.   

The relief when his fingers retreated was a punishment all the same, the second his touch disappeared your body crying for it to return. His lips detached from yours just as his palm sprawled over your lower belly, so full of him, his voice a rumbling siren’s song as you felt sweat running down your back from the tension taunting your muscles.

“You feel me, honey? Feel how deep I am?”

He watched you with hooded gaze, predator boasting at catching his prey in a deadly trap she so willingly crawled into, your core spasming at the hunger in his dark eyes hypnotizing yours, half-mad with the animalistic desire.

“Yes-“

With a satisfied hum, his hand retreated again, causing you to whimper because no, that was where you wanted him to touch you, you wanted it everywhere, you needed him to keep owning you—

“Fuck-“ you sobbed as his fingers trailed over your throbbing clit, your walls clenching around his length, your abdomen trembling with effort to fight his grip and chase your release. “Andy, please, I-“

“Oh, but this isn’t just about you, honey, is it?” he scolded you gently, hoarse voice dripping sin and satisfaction as he returned to petting the apex of your thighs, the sensitive flesh gripping him like a vice and it was just not enough. “I wonder how long you could keep still on your own if I asked you, how long until you’d beg me-“

Not a second longer was the answer, more so when he twisted his hand so wickedly that long fingers continued teasing your entrance while his thumb circled your clit, agonizing need rushing through you like an electrical current, your whole body arching and yet staying so painfully still, writhing in his hold, tears of frustration gathering in your eyes.

“Please, please, please, please, Andy, love, please-“

His fingers stilled, ceasing their torture and yet it felt like denying you further until just as your sob pushed past your lips, his hand gently cupped your face, so painfully tender it had your wet eyelashes flutter, a sudden reprieve as Andy’s gaze seemed to trapped you outside of time and space and your own body; it felt like a sip of fresh water on an unbearably hot day, his damp fingers tracing the lines of your face, something flashing in his gaze, something you could not hope to comprehend but felt so achingly soft.

“Gods, you’re a vision, little bird, so beautiful… so thoroughly and undeniably mine, aren’t you?” he whispered, something akin to reverence in his voice as he continued to brush his fingertips over your skin as if committing you to memory.

And then he was kissing you; your breath caught at the unspeakable delicacy of the kiss, even his beard feeling softer as his lips carefully danced against yours, almost meekly, as if you could dissipate into thin air if he pressed too hard. The disparity to his previous advances was staggering, your heart fluttering, tears gathering in your eyes for an entirely different reason. He was just so damn soft.

“Andy…”

His smile against your lips was just as delicate as his kiss, your heart stumbling in your chest when you found him observing you with glassy eyes, his thumb, still carrying the heady aroma of your juices, brushing over your lower lip lovingly.

“I’ll give you everything I have, love… can’t seem to deny you,” he mused, one corner of his lips twitching up, his hand slowly sliding down your body, appreciating every inch of flesh in its path, his touch growing firmer as he went, his lips nearing yours again, his deadgrip on your hips releasing at last, speaking his next words directly to your mouth and angling the world from its axis all over again. “Take what you need, little bird.”

The words cut through you like a bolt of lightning, burning through every fibre of your being at once, the violent desire having been building through the past hours slamming into you at once, twice as hard, impossible to contain.

A breathless scream tore from your throat.

You cried out Andy’s name, your body acting on an animalistic instinct of chasing pleasure now that it finally could, nails digging into his shoulders for support as you rocked your hips against his with wild abandon, head thrown back in ecstasy every drag of his length through your tight walls sparked anew, coil rapidly tightening and undoing in your belly as it wasn’t nearly enough, never enough, more, more, more-

“Fuck--- that’s it, honey, keep going-” he groaned, hand stroking your back slick with sweat, his other hand gripping your ass cheek to guide your movements just the tinniest bit to your mutual pleasure.  

And you listened, chasing an unreachable peak, grasping at Andy’s neck, moving closer to his still maddeningly clothed torso, bouncing up and down, grinding your pelvis against his and it was not enough, not with your hands so firmly planted on his shoulders when your thighs alone quivered with exertion, a rare catch of his shirt against your clit nearly making you see stars and pushing them away from your reach all the same, fingers fisting his shirt in breathy outrage.

“Andy, please-“

“I’ve got you, honey.”

Next thing you knew your head was spinning, your body achingly cold as you were tossed on the bed on your back, Andy’s touch gone; and then he was hovering above you, his warm body completely bare at last, stretching over yours as he sheeted himself in your heat in one single thrust, stretching you to your limit again and feeling like heaven and hell combined.

His mouth captured your needy whimper when he once again remained all too still, one of your hands, having started to explore the god-like body of his, grasped at the wrist and pinned next to your head in an exhilarating display of control, leaving an ounce of it for you too as you jerked your hips against his, over and over, unable and not wanting to stop for even a moment, because you could feel it at your fingertips, the taste of pleasure unparalleled awaiting you when you’d come around his cock and felt him spill inside you.

The thought alone had you writhe under the soothing and yet frustrating weight of Andy’s body, his kiss tinged with amusement before he released your lips, setting them free to chant his name.

“Patience, little bird. I told you I’ve got you.”

And by gods, he did. He did, pinning you to the mattress and driving into your tight channel over and over at almost punishing pace, his hand sneaking between your bodies to swipe up the juices smeared all over your and his thighs and toy with your swollen bundle of nerves, blinding pleasure lighting you alive.

“Yes-“

“You feel like fucking heaven, honey. Will never have enough--- come for me. Give it to me, show me you’re mine-“

Falling apart felt like scorching heat consuming your body, burning every single cell in its wake, a shuddering breath of Andy’s name like a prayer rising from the ashes back to life, his spent filling you to the brim just as you were being reborn.

And so was your need.

You had never felt anything like it, the crushed seeds of logic in your mindless haze whispering of how this shouldn’t be possible, how you should be beyond sated but with every taste, with every peak, each more powerful than the other, your thirst was not quenched but rekindled, your limp body craving more, more, more; more of this, more of Andy, more of anything and you would die unless you’d get it.

You could barely focus your gaze on Andy’s face hovering above yours, a bliss having flushed his cheeks pink and his eyes with tantalizing glimmer, his fingers tender as he pushed your damp hair from your face.

“Please…” you rasped, not recognizing your voice anymore, blood rushing past your ears wildly. “More.”

His smile was soft, a gentle press of his lips to your forehead and the slightest rock of his hips against yours pulling a desperate keen from your parched lips.

“Do you want to be truly mine, little bird?” he asked, his voice grave and raspy as his breath fanned over your face.

“Yes!”

“Truly? Bound to me?” he continued, the words not carrying any meaning, his voice, gods, his voice, like a caress over your inner thigh, like a touch of bliss somewhere deep within you, in your very soul, a promise of endless pleasure. “You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect… and I’ll be yours…”

Anything. Anything, just more, more-

“Yes- Andy, please.”

A peck to your lips, then another to your cheek and one to the corner of your mouth; each sparking a flame licking at your womb, causing your muscles to spasm, your hands, now free of his hold, grasping at him, nails dragging down his back, urging him to move inside you, your hips buckling pathetically as all your energy had been burned out while your need pulsed with life within you all the more.

Please, just-

“Bless you, little bird, I waited for you so long and did not even know… tell me you want me.”

“I want you-“ you sobbed, vainly pulling yourself up to be flush against his body.

“Need me-“

“Need you. Only you- please.”

“As you wish, little bird.”

All of sudden, a flash of ice-cold clarity cut through your haze, an agonizing stutter of your heart in your ribcage.

The low lights of the bedroom reflected on the blade which seemed to materialize in Andy’s hand out of thin air, a gleam of determination in your lover’s eye.

Wincing helplessly under his heavy weight, you squeezed your eyes shut, your life – a good life, not bad at all –flashed before your eyes, a muffled cry of confused want and utter terror escaping your lips as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

You could feel him shift above you, inside you, the smallest motions sending almost nauseating desire through your body still, tears of overwhelm gathering in your eyes and spilling over as your heart fought for every last beat you’d be given in this life.

You were going to die.

It was the most absurd thought flying through your head, a painful chuckle almost tearing through your lips; you were about to die, mad with arousal for you own murderer and should anyone ever learn, you were going to turn into inspiration for a cautionary tale for the very books you had been reading since you were a child. Or perhaps those on serial killers.

You didn’t want to die!

“N-no, please, please, Andy-“

It was pathetic. Voice hoarse from having pleaded him to fuck you, for more and more and more; it was almost a foreign voice and yet undeniably yours, somehow still laced with devastating desire not to live, but to be ruined by his cock over and over, still thrumming deep within you.

A low grunt and a hiss; droplets of thick warm liquid landing on your forearm, coppery smell tickling your nostrils.

You couldn’t help it; you always had been morbidly curios, hadn’t you?

With a shuddering inhale, you cautiously blinked your eyes open, heart once more skipping a painful beat, your hand twitching to cover your mouth.

Features twisted in mere discomfort, Andy glanced from his right palm – from the crude deep cut on his own palm – to your face, grimacing as if only now his pain registered, eyes wide with something other than lust and satisfaction for once.

Compassion?    

“Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll be gentle and I promise it will hurt for but a second,” he rasped, your body turning rigid with horror. “Stay still for me, love.”

And you did.

Mutely, with but shaky breaths on your part and his, his grasp on your left wrist was shockingly tender as he laid your hand on the sheets, staining your skin with crimson, his blood seeping into the fabric below. His gaze held yours just as gently, something apologetic and warm in the thin ring of blue around his blown pupils.

You inhaled sharply at the sting of pain, a whimper of Andy’s name pushing past your trembling lips and then it was gone. From the corner of your eye, you could see the blade, having appeared so suddenly, disappear just as fast.

Andy’s thumb stroked the heel of your palm, his lips curling softly in a smile, the hand which had held the blade moving to cradle your cheek.

“Are you ready, little bird?”

As the fear slowly dissipated, you left the forgotten hunger for his body creep in slowly, blooming from your core through your belly, your chest, through your limbs all the way to your fingertips and toes, warming every single muscle, every nerve ending, tingling in your lips, growing and growing with every rapid beat of your heart, a shudder rushing up your spine at the gentle onslaught of want.

A single beat of your heart, two, three, four- and then it slammed into you with force of a star being born in midst of chaos, back arching, muscles straining with instinct to continue chasing the carnal pleasure, hips thrusting up as you felt Andy stiffen inside you again with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re ready, love,” he hummed, lips slanting over yours, stealing your breath, every minute roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy through your system bordering on pain he drank straight from your mouth.

His hold crept from your wrist to your hand, fingers interlacing, palm sticky with blood pressing against your own wound.

You wailed.

The guttural sound rippled through you just as you hit another peak, Andy’s thrusts stuttering with a curse on his lips as your walls gripped him in a vice, your whole body spasming with paralyzing waves of euphoria, tears springing from your eyes.

Your body floated. You’d swear, had you had any control over your lips, that your soul ascended to another plane of existence. Nothing held you chained to earth anymore. You felt free and weightless and full of light, all-consuming but so so warm and soothing you felt a sob tearing from your chest, a distant sensation of your lover – your lover, your love, your everything – spilling inside you, his lips pressed to your throat, his weight on you, his gentle hold on your hand the only things grounding you and wrapping you in an overwhelming feeling of safety. 

Your name, softly spoken; whispers of little bird, tender pets to your hair.

Growing aware of your body trembling in aftershocks, whatever unbearable pressure you distantly remembered crushing you finally released you from its clutches. You opened your heavy eyelids, a blurry image of a stunningly handsome man, Andy, all you could see; and you were at peace with that.

He still held your hand firmly in his, leaning over you, worried gaze roaming your features as you felt your chest heaving with slow ragged breaths.

“Andy…”

“I know, little bird… it was almost too much, wasn’t it,” he whispered, your heavy eyelids slipping shut again, a tender kiss landing on them.

“Mmm… ‘most,” you echoed, exhaustion settling in every fibre of your being now that feeling of deep contentment washed over your body, cleansing you of the insatiable hunger.

“That’s my pretty little bird.”

A brief peck to your forehead was the only warning you got before Andy’s warmth slowly lifted from you, oh so carefully sliding out of you, a vague sensation of your nose scrunching in discontent reaching your brain. He squeezed you fingers too, you thought, but his voice sounded as if from miles away.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

His retreating steps were the last sound you heard before sleep took you into its merciful arms at last.

You didn’t feel the careful touch of a warm cloth washing away the proves of intense love-making from your most intimate flesh, nor the kiss to your hipbone. You didn’t feel another cloth wiping away the blood from your hand, couldn’t see Andy’s pained frown at the shallow cut on your palm, nor you could hear the hoarse whisper as he traced his fingertips over your wound, erasing it without trace, a weak smile passing his lips.

No one but him could see him even as he felt thousands of judging eyes on him when he walked back to the bathroom, washing the blood off of his hands and tearing away a strip of clean cloth to wrap around his own palm, tightening it more than necessary with every tug, the throbbing pain only justified; a fraction of punishment that should be inflicted on him, a lump growing in his throat as he dreaded and couldn’t wait to walk back and lay on his bed, sharing it with someone after endless years of solitude.

Leaning his hands on the sink with a shaky exhale, he hung his head low even as something so light and beautiful thundered in his ribcage, fingers flexing, the fresh wave of pain pushing him to look up. The face starring at him from the mirror was one of a selfish monster; a selfish monster craving love just like any other being with hot blood pulsing through its veins.

He just wanted to love and be loved. Was that really so wrong of him?

It didn’t matter anymore; he’d made his choice and made yours as well.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he found you sound asleep, somehow having turned to your side, facing the door as if you eagerly awaited his return and the dreams took you too early. The frown on Andy’s face softened, something sweet humming in his heart, the lump in his throat releasing just a bit at how peaceful you appeared.

Circling the bed, he stretched alongside your body, propping on his elbow to feat his eyes on you.

You glowed with wild beauty, hair a soft tangled mess around your head, skin still flushed, kiss-swollen lips parted, bare skin of your tempting body enticing him to touch.

My little bird.

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you warm.

You deserve everything and I will give it to you.

You are mine to love and cherish and protect.

With a sigh releasing the immense pressure in his ribcage, he brushed his lips over his fingertips before bringing his forefinger to the side of your neck. Drawing tender lines, his touch trailed to your nape, down your neck, over your shoulder blade and shoulder, a swirl of ink left in its wake reaching gently over your collarbone almost to your breastbone. Curls as delicate as your soul, thin petals of wild flowers and trees; and surrounded by the beauty of nature, a little swallow.

Content with his handwork, pressing a soft kiss to your nape, Andy laid himself behind you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush to his chest, your soft warm body moulding into his perfectly as if it was always meant to be.

He draped covers over you both to keep you warm as he had promised.

Slowly pulled into consciousness by fingers carding through your hair as gently as if threading through dreams, you felt your lips curl in a brief smile, the sensation of a warm firm body wrapped about you protectively rousing you from your sleep with finality.

Just as slowly, the events of yesterday came back to your memory like an echo, echo of freezing-cold water, all-consuming need and overwhelming relief found in Andy’s arms, in Andy’s bed.

That was where you were, feeling just as relieved; just as light even as sleep still weighted your body, delaying your movements and making them sloppy, your hand landing ungracefully on Andy’s chest, his quiet chuckle causing you to purse your lips and finally will your eyes to open.

The first sunrays were peeking through the bedroom window, casting light to the warm space, illuminating Andy’s form from behind and giving his tousled hair almost supernatural glow; and yet it was nothing compared to the soft glow in his eyes as he watched his fingers toy with your hair, as his gaze met yours, dreamy, with a tinge of concern.

“Good morning,” he husked, voice warm and gentle like a cup of coffee on a cold winter afternoon.

“Gd mornin’,’” you muttered in response, causing a brief smile pass his lips, before his brows drew together, his dark blues roaming all over your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek.

It was a little unnerving, the attention, your awareness of just how much of a mess your appearance had to be after a long wild night spent tangled in the sheets insistent in your mind; and the fact you were still completely naked save for the duvet Andy must have covered you with did not help your case.

He did not seem to mind.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a changed woman,” you replied without as much as a thought, only to be surprised how true the words were.

You did feel different; transformed, for the lack of a better word. A huge weight you hadn’t been aware you had been carrying seemed lifted, aches and worries in your heart and mind soothed, the only ache remaining being a pleasant reminder of last night. One brief flash of fear; a memory of a blade and blood, yours and Andy’s – but where you could see a cloth wrapped unceremoniously around his hand, you realized you could flex both of your hands without as much as discomfort.

Before you could ask – why your hand carried no mark while Andy’s carried a potentially still bleeding mark of something you did not understand and yet seemed to understand better than yourself – he spoke, hesitance lacing his voice.

“Well… you are. You are mine,” he whispered.

The thought sent a surge of warmth through your chest, a smile unwittingly spreading on your lips. Feasting your eyes on the man who had indeed made you yours quite thoroughly, his unfairly handsome features made you almost oblivious to how quiet and shy he sounded; and how fast his heart thundered under your palm.

“You’re bound to me now, little bird, as I am to you. Forever.”

Forever mine.

Forever yours.

You blinked, unsure what he meant and yet; the sincerity and gravity of his words left no doubt that he was sharing a profound truth. A quiet, powerful presence of an ancient entity not to fear but certainly respect hummed in the depths of your ribcage.

In your silence, Andy moved his hand so the pads of his fingers now lad tenderly over your collarbone, instinctively drawing your gaze, air catching in your throat in awe.

Dark indigo-like ink adorned your skin, stretching from the curve of your shoulder as far as you could see over your collarbone and cleavage, a breathtaking piece or art; a love letter to nature etched onto your body in simple precise lines without shading. You heart raced in your chest as you reached out cautiously, fearing the tattoo you did not remember getting might disappear.

It did not; but images filled your mind, images of your bare body standing in Andy’s bathroom, your back to the mirror, glancing over your shoulder and marvelling at the intricate pattern, delicate leaves and swirls as if protecting a small bird; a swallow.

The astonishment stayed within you as your gaze refocused on the inked skin of your chest, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. You would say with certainty you had never stood in the bathroom like that nor admired the tattoo; and yet, you were absolutely sure, somehow, that this was what your back now looked like, this was what you would see if you walked to the mirror and made the image true.

Your stomach fluttered, a tingle of caution; and still, no matter how much you tried to make sense of why, you were not scared. Curious, rather; fascinated even.

Glancing up at Andy, you found him watching you closely, his eyes brimming with careful hope and expectation of a blow to his face at once.

“How?” you breathed out, his unhappy grimace deepening.

The sight twisted your heart.

You were lost; and yet it seemed he was the one needing guidance and support and all you yearned for was to give him exactly that.

As you placed your hand on his cheek, already missing the sensation of his heartbeat, his eyes fluttered shut, a shaky inhale rattling his ribcage. He nuzzled into your touch, a soft scratch of his beard against your palm. His hand slid to your waist, fingers flexing briefly as he met your gaze, his eyes a storm of emotion.

“A bonding like that… requires three elements of a body; saliva, seed and blood. Once exchanged, along with your consent and with the drop of potion in your tea… we belong together now, little bird. And… there’s no force on the earth that could tear us apart.”

Your pulse skyrocketed at the gravity of his words.

It sounded terrifying; it sounded definitive.

It sounded wicked.

And it sounded right.

It should scare you, a low voice whispered in the back of your mind, but it was drowned in the melody of your heart finally finding peace.

Forever. No force on Earth that could tear us apart.

The echo of the voice having been with you ever since you fell through the ice and nearly drowned washed over you sweetly; if felt like coming back to a safe harbour after years and years spent on a raging sea.

You didn’t understand technicalities; you did not understand at all. But you understood how the fact this was right was everything that mattered.

That and the fact Andy was watching you now, perhaps even more overwhelmed than you, awaiting your reaction to the confession because that was what this was. A confession. No matter what his words would have said, the weight of his transgression was written in his cerulean eyes.

And your heart ached and called for his.

Sliding your hand to his nape, you shifted closer, slow enough to see his eyes widen and lit up with hope before you brushed your lips over his, a pained sound in the back of his throat almost making you stop; until his fingers flexed in the flesh of your waist and gripped, pulling you flush to his chest, free hand sliding under your cheek to angle your head and deepen the kiss, your lips parting in invitation and a plea.

Like a spark of life to your body; like a drop of the most precious of wines on your tongue. Exhilarating. Addicting.

“Oh little bird…”

The soft cautious voice turned warmer, lighter and heavier with desire all the same as both his and your hands began to roam, every touch like sunbeams shining from within your bones, your body arching against him in instinctive search for bliss.

“What if they come looking for me?”

Andy smiled as you blurted the question s, licking into your mouth instead of an answer and making you keen, the hold on your hips encouraging you to meet the roll of his own.

“They’ll never find you, love. This house does not exist in the earthly realm, not for most of the year… don’t worry, little bird.”

That piece of information should worry you, yet you could not bring yourself to care enough; instead, the tingle in the back of your mind whispered of earthly plane and other realms, of forces beyond comprehension, tales remembered from childhood of unhuman entities coaxing people into their grasp with a promise of what their heart craved.

Feeling the thunderous heartbeat under your palm, the warmth and firmness of Andy’s body, there was no denying how wonderfully alive and human he was; and yet, words of potions and bonds and forevers were telling a different tale.

“What are you, Andy?”

Another smile, mischievous as his touch trailed down your chest over your belly, along your hipbone, grasping the back of your thigh to lift it so he could slot one of his muscular legs between yours, the delicious friction against your rapidly dampening core causing your thoughts to scatter.

“Does it matter?” he whispered to your ear, teeth nibbling under your earlobe, drawing a whimper from your lips.

No. No, it did not. The one thing he was was devious, his lips chaining one kiss after another along your throat, your head thrown back as your nails dug into his back.

“I’ve had many different names, little bird. The only one that will ever matter to me is the one falling from your lips as shatter for me again.”

The image was almost palpable, Andy’s soft hair in your fingers as he lifted you towards the stars and yet; another question, much more urgent, cold fingers of doubt creeping along your spine, threatened to put the flames of bliss igniting in your body out at once.

Forever was a long, long time, no matter how much of a hyperbole Andy could have used.

And in your experience, men did not love for even half of it or less and chose their forever with much more care than he had.

“Why me?”

Andy’s body turned rigid for a moment, safe for his head snapping up to search your gaze, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to decipher your tone.

You willed yourself to hold his serious gaze even as your heart raced, worried you had overstepped; worried you might get what you bargained for. Heartbreak.

Whatever Andy found in your gaze – be it pride or desperation – it drew a sigh from his lips, his touch retreating from your intimate flesh in favour of grasping your hand and linking his fingers with yours.

“The moment you fell into water… I knew you were mine and always had been,” he said slowly.

Your breath hitched, threading uncertain waters again, in more ways than one.

The moment you fell into water… he knew. Whatever that meant. The moment you fell-

The moment you heard him for the first time. The voice, even as it had been veiled with mystery at first, the voice you later recognized as his own pleading for you to fight. The very moment…

“I… I think I heard your voice,” you whispered, certain you’d find laughter in his eyes, because what you were saying was absurd, a figment of imagination of an extremely stressed mind, but there was no trace of it. Not at all.

Warmth, yes. Humour? Not in the slightest.

“Yes, that’s possible.”

“But… how? Why?”

Sighing again with a gentle squeeze to your fingers, he let his other hand wander, soft pads of his fingers brushing over your skin, following the lines of your tattoo with his touch and sight alike, speaking lowly, almost absently.

“Time is an illusion, little bird. An elaborate one, but only an illusion. On Christmas Day, the veil surrounding it is the thinnest – that is why people who come to the blessed lake on Christmas Day and cut though the ice do glimpse their future. Those who fall in… they literally soak their body in the ability.”

“Ability…?” you echoed weakly, your breaths coming out shorter as intangible weight settled in your chest. “Ability to… glimpse into the future? No, that’s not--- not-”

Flashes. Images of you looking over your shoulder, a precise picture of a tattoo you had yet to see, Andy kneeling between your legs as you laid sprawled in the armchair, his body draped over yours, hand pinned next to your head, his bandaged hand on your hip as his lips devoured you on this very bed-

“Little bird?”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out, your head spinning as the images replayed in your head, over and over, hazy and yet sharp, details you could have not imagined, not truly. “I-- yesterday, I saw these… flashes, I was sure they were-”

You gulped, cheek flushing with heat at the admission, your gaze fixed on Andy’s chest, unable to meet his eye until his fingers slid under your chin, tipping your head back just a bit, his gaze intrigued – and serious.

“…fantasies.”

A little smirk passed over his lips, a flicker of mischief that soon gave way to something softer and graver. “But they weren’t, were they?”

You shook your head, even as the glaring truth was only now dawning to you.

“I saw this too. I think? Maybe. Your injured hand… and I think I saw-- I have a swallow on my back, don’t I?”

His eyes widened, a speckle of pride in his gaze as he slowly nodded.

“Yes. I’m sorry, little bird, I know it’s difficult. From what I know it is hard to make sense of these images. Those who bath in the lake at the sacred time…” he trailed off, a frown twisting his gentle expression, another sigh leaving his lips. “If they survive, they are bound to fall into madness, the strain on their mind too great.” 

Your heart stopped.

It must have, because the sudden stab of ice-cold fear tore straight through it, blood crystalizing in your veins.

You couldn’t breathe. A few words and the icy waters of the lake surrounded you all over again, filling your lungs with thousands of needles, the glassy shards all around you pulling you under, pulling you down, down, down-

“But--- but does that-“

And just as fast, a warm firm grip pulled you back up, a protective cage of hands cradling your face, gentle and steady, your vision reducing to pair of fiery blue eyes.

“No. No, because you are mine. We are far from the earthly realm and you are bound to me the most potent way there is. And if, if that’s not enough, I will find a way to protect you even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you.

I’d never hurt you.

You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect and I’ll be yours.

Your heart was soared, tears gathering in your eyes at the warmth radiating from Andy’s palms alone. There was no space for doubt left whatsoever. His blazing determination would scorch the entirety of the earthly realm he had spoken of and leave nothing but ashes if it meant keeping you safe.

And that, that was exactly what made no sense; because you had not encountered a single human being in your whole damn life that would feel a fraction of the affection Andy seemed to harbour for you in less than a day.  Nothing was as real as his hands on you, as the sweet ache in your body from yesterday, and yet this, this could not be real.

“Why? Why of all people, why would you choose-”

“I told you,” Andy said, just as passionately, pleading for you to understand. “You fell and I knew better than anything that you were mine and always had been.”

You didn’t understand. But perhaps you did. Or you would.

Perhaps that was what he meant when he said time was an illusion; right now, you did not know, but you would and that was all that mattered, because you might as well know already.

Your head spun, pressure building behind your eyes and yet you could not tear your gaze away from the soft storm in Andy’s eyes.

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

“So what… it was fate?” you muttered, the words, yet again, absurd to your own ears.

Andy smirked, the expression so out of place and so perfectly fitting to his handsome face your stomach made a little somersault. Releasing you from his grip, he simply continued to cradle your cheek as his other hand began to toy with your hair, his smile softening as you felt yourself relax at the tender yet playful action.

“Fate is a series of deliberate choices, little bird,” he said, letting the strand of your hair fall only to wrap another one round his finger. “I… I made my choices, some of which I am not proud of, and you made yours. You chose to come back to your hometown. Chose to escape the family gathering. Chose to walk to the lake and try your luck looking at the water surface with shy hope – because years ago, when you were still a child, you chose to read a particular book of legends.”

With every word, your heart was picking up again, hammering in your ribcage, your mind latching onto pieces of information Andy could have guessed but spoke with unshakable certainty.

But then, the look in his eye was painfully tender you shuddered at being at the receiving end, thoughts scattering again, reducing themselves to one single thought.

No one. No one had ever looked at you like that.

“Much like you chose to help out a little bird back to its nest when only a child yourself. Chose to release a spirit of a baby swallow mere days after, perhaps even unwittingly calling luck upon yourself that would once find its way to you.”

“How- how do you-”

“I told you. I knew when you fell. Because I got to glimpse beyond the veils of time too,” he explained gently, letting silence stretch, allowing you to process the information that was nothing short of absolutely overwhelming. Mind-blowing.

He had seen; he had seen parts of your life no one even knew about, moments you barely remembered. He knew about a small, meaningless act of kindness years and years ago, he knew-

The sudden realization stuck you like a lightning, a choked sound born in the back of your throat, a breathy whisper.

“Little bird…”

“Yes,” Andy confirmed, just as quiet, gaze glimmering with affection as his fingers moved from caressing your hair to your shoulder, reaching behind you, blindly following lines of a tattoo you knew were there and now knew why. A small swallow amongst the leaves and swirls. “And that’s your why. All these images of your life, past, presence, even future, flashing before my eyes. They showed me all of you. Who you were, how good, how sweet, an innocent soul with faith in forces of nature and beyond… you were perfect. You are perfect, little bird. And I couldn’t let you-- not when I knew what might happen if I--- I knew you were to be mine and I wanted to be yours. I steered you, just a little and I knew it was wrong of me to meddle with your life and I knew I should have let you go… but even when I did, your steps lead to me still and then you were here, and I-”

Your fingers silenced his laments, confession and declaration all at once, a simple touch to his lips working like a charm, his eyes falling shut.

Your heart was beating so vigorously you were sure it would beat its way out of your chest.

There was so much to process, so much to feel, so much to understand and thread through; but at last, you understood two things.

One: this truly was meant to be, be it fate or series of choice or divine intervention.

Two: he needed to stop.

“You saved me.”

Andy shook his head, taking your hand into his and holding it to his chest, lips barely moving as he whispered.

“No and it’s not that simple. My voice and enchantment might have helped, but you saved yourself. And since the moment you did, since you came in, I’ve done things, wicked things to have you-“

You recalled the scorching need for him, the bath, the tea, his touch eliciting visions, little puzzle pieces falling into place, even as the image remained all too incomplete; the puzzle of him, a simple man with something extraordinary throbbing in his soul, a lonely man craving love beyond what you could possibly imagine, tortured way beyond what he had brought upon you yesterday and had soothed all the same and you couldn’t.

You couldn’t but forgive whichever transgressions he had committed if he was beating himself over them and his original intentions were threaded by something soft and pure.

It was your turn to cradle his cheek and wordlessly ask him to look at you and trust you.

Obeying, Andy hung onto your lips, two two pools of cerulean sadness awaiting judgement and asking forgiveness all the same, almost absurdly so, because you had a feeling that should he want to, he could have made you mad for him all over again, a drop of a potion, a flick of a hand, and you’d have no choice but to succumb to him.

But he didn’t.

It only solidified your decision.

“No, Andy. You saved me… your very own little bird,” you added with a smile tugging at your lips. “And maybe calling a little luck upon yourself in the process, I suppose. I—whatever you have done… it only sped up what I would have felt for you either way. And… if I was meant to be yours, if I am yours… then you were meant to be mine.”

A shaky inhale. You had never imagined a man of his built would spoke in such small vulnerable voice, but he did. A single word, tinged with careful hope:

“Yeah?”

“Oh Andy…”

Actions speaking louder than words, you pulled him for a kiss, soft, slow and deep, the softened flame of your desire flaring up again, this time with no doubts or unspoken questions.

His lips tore away from yours with an urgent plea.

“Show me, love.”

“Was trying to,“ you muttered, confused and a little hurt, only for Andy to shake his head and bring your hand to his lips, a tender kiss to your fingertips sending a tingle of electricity rushing through your body all the way to your toes. “Andy, what-”

“Think of us… of a pattern, a mark… much like your tattoo. If I am yours… where would I carry your mark?” he whispered, the fervour in his voice making your heart stutter in your chest.

Oh Andy.

You did not need to think for long; there was only one choice, truly.

As he squeezed your hand, enticing you to touch him as if that was enough to make the pattern appear, his gaze eagerly followed your movements as you carefully brushed over his sternum.

With a breathless chuckle on your lips, you watched the ink of a familiar colour – the colour of your eyes, you realized, only slightly darker, much like your own tattoo mirrored a darker shade of Andy’s eyes – draw a line of the pattern on your mind, perfectly matching your own. Over his collarbone; over the mass of his shoulder; over his shoulder blade.

As you retreated your hand, content with your handiwork, you caught Andy’s soft, so achingly soft gaze, zeroed on your awed smile.

Whatever he was – whatever he was beyond yours – he carried something good and beautiful in his very core.

“Thank you, love.”

A gentle kiss to your fingertips, another little jolt of energy; as he placed your palm over his rapidly beating heart, no ink spilled anymore. Before you could marvel at that, he captured your lips with his, a brief kiss before he sighed with emotion so profound you felt your eyes prickling with tears again.

“I think you saved me, little bird. And I will spend forever by repaying you.”

You didn’t know how long forever was. You didn’t know what awaited you, even as you soon might get a glimpse of it, but one thing you knew for sure.

“There’s no rush, love… we have all the time in the world.”

And in the earthly realm, just as Andy said, as soon as the clock struck midnight on a Christmas Day, the house disappeared from view; along with the woman, once a superstitious kid, carrying her to a happier realm she may never, ever leave.

And with the house was long gone, invisible and untouchable to mere human senses, the only trace of her left was but small droplets of blood on the white bark of a birch tree; giving birth to unearthly crimson blossoms as soon as the first spring sunrays caressed it with its warmth, the ices of the lake melting.

Complete masterlist

Andy Barber and misc masterlist

Phew... You did it! You finished reading!

If you find some time and energy, please, let me know if you enjoyed 🥺 Honest. This is one of my rare soft dark babies and I'm nervous as hell posting this and I obviously spent a lot of time on this one, so... hoe with me? 🥹

Thank you for reading either way 💕

BTW, the book referenced in the story is very much real and used to be one of my favourites as a teen. It’s Kytice by K.J.Erben (translated as A Bouquet of Czech Folktales, I cannot tell if it's a good translation as I haven't got my hands on it; or biligual version simply called Kytice).

P.S. everything is a oneshot if you post it in one go 😌🤭

[writingsbymo-mo]

Mine Always

Bonten!Rindou x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Contains: pregnancy, mild sexual themes, language

Contains spoilers for the Tenjiku arc

Note: she/her pronouns are used when referring to your past self at times...and in the little bonus at the end. Keep that in mind before reading 💕

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Welcome home, Rindou!" You beamed, planting a kiss on his lips, "did you miss me?" You had a long day sorting through files for Koko. With you being a few months pregnant, you were stuck doing office work for Bonten, not that you minded. Field work was always more enjoyable, especially after many adrenaline induced escapades with Rindou that led to your current situation.

Rindou smiled into the kiss, sneaking a few on the shell of your ear. "Why wouldn't I miss my beautiful pregnant wife?" He cooed, picking you up in his arms. "Come on, it's been a long day for both of us. Let's get some rest."

The city lights illuminated the space just enough to reach the comfort of your shared bed. Gently, he lowered you onto the silk sheets, tucking you in. He's been doing this often the moment your little bump began to show and honestly, you loved it. The bed creaked under his weight as he joined you under the covers. He rolled onto his side, gazing at you fondly, gently wrapping his arms around your form until your back was pressed to his chest. "Can't believe we've been together for over ten years now. And now, we have a little Haitani on the way." His warm hand began rubbing small circles onto your bump as he pressed kisses into the back of your neck.

You gasped, moving your head to give him more access to your neck as a thought came to you. "I wonder how our past selves would react to us now, you know? I mean, you used to have the biggest crush on me according to Ran before we started dating." Rindou scoffed, "of course he told you that...sigh...though he is part of the reason we're here now."

"Aww," you cooed, placing your hand over his, "I guess I'll have to thank him later. Still, I think you'd have the cutest reactions if your past self knew you fucked a baby into me." You giggled as he shook his head with a chuckle. "Alright love, let's go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Yeah, goodnight Rin."

"Goodnight love," he whispered and kissed your neck.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You awaken to a shrill scream piercing your ears. "Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here? GET OUT!!!!"

You rubbed your eyes and sat up immediately, confused as to what is happening. You fell asleep next to Rindou like always so who is this? Then it hit you, where is he.....

Frantically, you search the room only to find....familiarity? It was your old bedroom. The walls lined with posters of your favorite bands and movies, your computer with your cd tower next to it with a few cases placed at your desk you were given to by Rindou not long after you started dating. You smiled, remembering how excited he was giving you his first copy of remixes and originals to you, wanting your honest feedback after listening to it. It was something you always cherished even into your present time. You couldn't help the soft smile forming on your face as you reminisced your memories with him.

"HEY! Are you even listening?! GET THE FUCK OUT!!!"

You snapped out of your thoughts, staring wide-eyed at your past self fuming, holding a bat you used to have before it snapped in half during a fight. Somehow, you stayed calm, sighing as you got a better look at your past self. "I almost forgot I dyed my hair neon pink and blue with a black under color...Ran and Rindou were right though. It was a good look for me," mumbled to yourself, or so you thought. Your younger self clutched the bat tighter, closer to her chest. "H-how...how...what??? What do you mean by "me"?"

You quietly laughed and smiled, "it's just as I said. I am you just about ten years from now."

Her jaw dropped, "so...if you're me...then who knocks me up in the future?" She said as she points to your visible bump.

"You want to know?" She nods at you while your hand caresses your stomach, rubbing it fondly. "Rindou did."

"Y-you mean...we—

"Yes, we fucked."

A huge blush spread across her face. She stepped towards the bed, grabbed the nearest pillow and squealed into it, "ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

'How cute!' You thought, giggling to yourself. She lifted her head so only her eyes were visible, "is he, you know...big?" You almost choked on your spit, "y-yeah...he's quite thick. The best I've ever had." Then it dawned on you. 'Did Rindou get transported here too? If so, is he at his old place? But what if he isn't?'

"Shit, I'm going to be late!" She jumped to the closet, throwing on her Tenjiku uniform, grabbing her trusty bat then turning her head to you with a smirk, "you coming or not?"

"You know it!" And maybe, just maybe he'll also be there.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The sun shone bright in the sky as you left Yokohama Station with your past self leading the way. 'Must be one of the executive's meetings before our major battle with Toman,' You concurred given the information gathered from your past self.

A few twists and turns down streets and alleyways, the two of you made it to the abandoned warehouse where the meeting would take place. "It's the same as I remember." The floors were covered in dirt and broken glass, mainly by the windows. More people in red coats arrived shortly after your arrival: Mochi, Shion, Koko, Hanma, Kisaki, and Muto. One of them approached you, eyeing your figure as he licked his lips.

"Oi, Rindou's girl, who's the pregnant babe?"

"Shut it Hanma, she's taken!" Your past self barked. "Besides, she's me."

"The fuck?!" Hanma, Shion, and Mochi yelled in unison. Koko squinted in confusion, clearly thinking the same thing while Muto furrowed his brows. Kisaki stood quietly, unwavered yet bothered by the circumstances. They all stared at you, then at your other self, then back to you. "Well, they both look the same to me," stated Mochi. Shion scoffed, "the pregnant one is clearly better looking."

"I heard that!" Your past self yelled, clenching her fists, stomping towards Shion who shrunk back. You held your arm out in front of her, glaring at him. "I may be pregnant but I can still take you in a fight, Shion. Say that to me again, I dare you," glowered. He held his hands up, laughing nervously to himself. "So then future Rindou's girl, did he knock you up or—"

"I did."

Everyone shifted to the new voice. He stepped forward, hands in his suit pockets with his usual annoyed expression as two young men in black Tenjiku uniforms followed behind him. "Rindou!" You beamed. Your eyes watered a little as you ran to him, jumping in his arms. "I missed you sweetheart," he smiled, pulling you in a tight hug and peppered kisses on your forehead as though he was afraid to lose you again.

"R-Rindou?!" The members of Tenjiku exclaimed, eyes wide with their jaws to the floor.

Ran and past Rindou strolled over to you, the older one placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm going to be an uncle," he smiled. "Yeah, in ten years," stated your Rindou as he rolled his eyes. "Still, I will be an uncle."

The Rindou from the past couldn't stop himself from looking at his girlfriend to you and your baby bump. Rosey pink filled his cheeks, knowing what he or his future self did with you. "Don't worry yourself too much. Just make sure to take good care of her when the time comes," you winked at him. The tips of his ears turned crimson as he looked away, taking his glasses off to clean them. "Don't tease him too much, love. You know how I was then." You giggled and booped his nose, "and you're still like that Rin-Rin."

"So, I heard we have some unexpected guests joining us. Thanks for the call, Ran"

All members of Tenjiku dropped silent, paying respects to their leader.

"I-Izana..." your eyes began to water as your heart swelled. Of course, he'd still be here. The Toman battle hasn't arrived yet

"Congratulations you two," Izana smiles, "the weather is lovely today, isn't it?"

You nodded, "it's good to see you again."

Kakuchou stood beside Izana, softly gazing at you and Rindou. "It's good to see you're still together."

Seeing everybody filled you and Rindou with joy. You shed a few tears as his thumb wiped them away. "I know we just got here, but we should find a way to get home. No telling what shit is going down with us gone." You sighed, defeated then nodded. He's right. Even if we stay, we don't belong in this time. "Do you know how?" He shrugged, "I'm not sure, but I've heard some of Sanzu's strange mumbling during his highs about time travel...and if I'm right, I need to be behind you."

"You're leaving already? But you just got here..." your past self cried, tackling you into a hug. "At least let me say goodbye first!" You smile, returning it. "Take care of that baby, you hear?" She sniffs. "Don't worry, we will."

Younger Rindou approaches the two of you, unable to look you in the eyes. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, still bushing from earlier. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her. And take care of our future child...plea—oof—" Ran drapes an arm over his shoulder and pulls him down with him to reach your eye level. "Take care of yourself and be good to my little nephew when he's born Rin-Rin!" Rindou rolls his eyes, "it's not like yourself from the future doesn't say that every single day," he retorts, though he can't help but smile. Ran nudges his brother under his arm, "and you better take care of your girl."

"Bye you two!"

"See you soon?!"

"Don't make too many crotch goblins!"

You both laughed at the last one.

It was time to go. A heavy sigh escaped you. Rindou circled behind you, wrapping his arms around your waste and nuzzling your neck. "I love you," he muttered, leaving a light peck on your nape.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Light was swallowed in an instant as you found yourself under the covers of familiar silky sheets. You yawned, stretching your limbs with a grunt. 'Was that all a dream? It felt too real.'

A set of arms pulled you closer. You squeaked as he kissed your neck. "Rindou!" You whined. "Shhhh, go back to sleep love," he whispered into your skin, sliding a hand down to caress your stomach. "So it was a dream? Shit...," you covered your face with your hands as sorrow washed over you.

"A dream?"

You nodded.

"When we saw our past selves and all of Tenjiku again?"

You tensed as your eyes popped open. "It wasn't a dream?! Oh thank god I'm not crazy," you sighed in relief.

Rindou shifted, straddling over you, beaming down at you like he's viewing the finest piece of art. He trails kisses from your Bonten tattoo over your right breast up to your lips, smiling with every smooch. "To prove it, I'm going to take good care of you and our baby."

"I know you will Rin."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Rindou awakens with a hard punch to the gut. "Cough, cough...the fuck was that for love?!" He sits up, ready to find you angry at him for whatever reason, but was met with a familiar face with a set of round glasses scowling at him.

"You better fucking get out if you know what's good for you. Or you won't be seeing this "love" of yours ever again!" He yelled.

Yawn "Rindou, keep it down! I need to get my nap in before the meeting—the fuck?! Why are there two of you in here...?"

Younger Rindou snapped his head at his older self, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt to see a matching tattoo only his brother and himself have. "What...the...hell?!!" His eyes widened, completely stunned. Never in his life did he ever think this to happen. This was something that only happens in movies.

Rindou clutched his abdomen, hissing from his younger self's gut punch. "Ok, here's the deal. I don't know how or why I got here. All I know is I need some painkillers and to get back to my pregnant wife."

"Wait...I-I'm married?" He gasped, stumbling in his steps.

"You're married and your wife is pregnant?!!"

Rindou nodded and crossed his arms. "Been with her for over ten years. You'll know who she is when you see her."

Ran's grumpy demeanor vanished at the whole revelation. He rushed over and squeezed Rindou in his arms. "I can't believe I'll be an uncle one day!"

Younger Rindou stood in the corner, thinking about who his future wife is considering he knows her. "Wait...is it—"

"Yes, it's her. She's the best woman a man could have."

"Well Rin-Rin, I was right to nudge you two together."

"Shut up Ran..."

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

ranking the phantom troupe based on how good of parents they would be

1. chrollo. the way that this isn’t even because i have favoritism towards chrollo, its because he’s so responsible🥹🥹🥹 like do you see the way that he basically takes care of the troupe? fathered so hard he mothered tbh. chrollo is literally so girl dad coded🥺 prolly cried when his held his child for the first time. he’d be the sweetest, brushing his daughter’s hair and taking her shopping.

2. pakunoda. she’s so respectful and self sacrificial and responsible im crying🥺 she makes me cry real skibidi tears like togashi look at what you took away from us. she’d be the literal sweetest mama ever. she’s soooo girl mom coded it’s insane. can you imagine her painting her daughter’s nails pink?🥹💕 she would 100% take her daughter on mall trips all the time.

3. phinks. controversial opinion but this guy would lowkey but SUCH A GOOD DAD. remember during the chimera ant arc when he gave shizuku his clothes because she lost hers? i just KNOW that he would play video games with his son and once begrudgingly wore a tiara for his daughter.

4. franklin. i don’t think he’d ever have kids (or want them for that matter), but if ever were to babysit kids, just know that he’ll be great. since we all know that he’s literally just a chill guy, he’ll just let the kids play video games and eat food the whole time.

5. nobunaga. okay okay HEAR ME OUT HE WOULD BE SO CUTE. like okay he wouldn’t be a “good” parent, but can you imagine him running around with his kid wreaking havoc and letting them play with his hair? like come on that’s literally like my dream dad😭❤️

6. shizuku. now she definitely is NOT responsible, but she doesn’t even need to be because she’ll lowkey be so chill and nice with her kids. there’s a saying that kids like pretty girls, and shizuku is definitely that. she’ll probably let her kids play on her phone or something, and i lowkey don’t think she’ll care if they take her glasses or smth.

7. machi. she’s responsible, don’t get me wrong, but i think she’ll be a bit too strict on her kid because she has trouble expressing any positive emotions. but when her kid runs away crying, she’ll instantly feel SO BAD and try her best to comfort the kid. she might make them a doll or some clothes or something.

8. bonolenov. we don’t really know too much about him, but he seems to care a lot about the troupe, so then it’s probably natural to assume that he’ll be the same with his children, if he ever has any, of course. he’ll probably teach them about their clan and what the holes in his clan’s body symbolizes.

9. shalnark. now, he’s a friendly and “sweet” guy, but i have a strong feeling that he wouldn’t like kids very much. they’re probably too dumb and pure for his liking, and he probably feels sort of uncomfortable when it comes to kids. if he finds out that someone is going to have his kids, then 90% of the time, shalnark will pull a ging freecss. the other 10% of the time, he’ll try his best.

10. uvogin. he’s the type of guy to want his child to learn how to fight and learn Nen as soon as possible, even if he has to initiate them to unlock their aura nodes. he’d lowkey drink beer one day and offer his kids some beer too, forgetting that they’re underage. but he loves his kids dearly though and would do anything for them, so that’s good enough.

11. feitan. oh this guy HATES KIDS. he finds them annoying and loud and stupid, and he gets the ick even when he LOOKS at a kid. if he ever had a kid, (which he probably wouldn’t but just hypothetically speaking) he’d have less of a reaction considering how that kid literally comes from inside of him, but he’d begrudgingly raise them as best he can…if it’s a son. if it’s a daughter, then i feel like he’ll be much softer and (try to be) more gentle.

12. illumi. pretty self explanatory tbh. he’ll love his kids dearly, but he’ll express it in toxic and unhealthy ways (he’ll also put them through terrible Zoldyck training)

13. hisoka. do NOT let this man near kids, even his own.

———

kalluto, kortopi - how do you expect them to have children when they’re literally children themselves?

[luveline]

Hi! I just read Prince steve's shot of the steampunk au and god, I loved it. I saw below it said you could make a request for it, so I wanted to know if you could do one about the how they met. I know it's mentioned, but I'd like to see what it was like at the time, if it's not too much trouble.

PS: qmo how you write, you are one of my role models 💕.

prince!steve au ♡ fem, 1.1k

Young people stand like dominoes in the sun, teetering, waiting to topple in on one another if given reason. Nine days of bated breath, the city waits in a ramping anticipation for Prince Steven to meet his soulmate.

You're almost hoping it isn't you so you can go home and rest your aching legs. Hours in the warm summer air, your worst dress sticking to the back of your clammy knees. You're not fit to meet the Prince. But… if you meet the Prince, and you were to somehow be his soulmate, you'd live an easy life. 

You'd live in a Palace, wear the finest clothes, eat the nicest foods (three times a day!). You could spend your days lounging under crystal chandeliers eating plates of fruit and expensive cheeses, air-conditioned and always smelling of vanilla, or sandalwood, or saffron. You've never tried saffron perfume, but it's the most expensive at the apothecary. 

The line mills shorter. You follow close to the heels of a girl dressed in better finery, a cherry red dress that looks like it's made of thin sheets of glass, her dark hair coiled in sweet cherubic curls at the back of her neck. They bounce with every step you take closer to the pedestal. You attach your attention to them, following the winding twist of them to the root over and over. 

You want very badly to be the Prince's soulmate. You'd be stupid not to want such luxury. But letting yourself believe that it's you out of the tens of thousands of eligible young people is asking to feel disheartened.

You convince yourself for the millionth time that it's not you as you follow the line inside of the royal gardens. Trees with weeping branches arc inward, their leaves kissing and sunlight dappled onto the people below. You feel it warming your skin as you take the final stretch. 

Apparently, for the King's soulmate search, he simply held out his arm and let women touch the inside of his palm with their pinky finger. He did this for two days. Prince Steven's search is taking much longer, as he's insisted on greeting and shaking the hands of everyone who's presented themselves. 

You wonder what that might feel like. He's a super pretty man, with exactly the sort of smile a Prince might hope to have. Whenever you see him on the holo screens you feel sick, wanting desperately to remain indifferent to him, but knowing you're just like every other silly young person in the kingdom. You want to be a special perfect royal. You want to take his hand and leave behind your disappointing life. 

Too bad it's a fantasy. 

"Next, please," says a young woman with red hair, looking at you pointedly. 

You bite your bottom lip between your teeth and walk determined to the top of the garden. Up three gentle steps and into a Palace of white, pearly stone. There's a long corridor lined with guards who eye you as you draw in. Deemed decidedly undangerous, they let you pass into a makeshift reception. You'd already had your name taken to be allowed in the line; nothing stands in your way of the Prince but chiffon pink curtains that shine like rose honey in the sun and a surprisingly small girl with a sword. 

And there, among an audience of officials and important people, sits the Prince. He looks smaller than you imagined, a little tired. The girl with the sword kicks his shin and he perks up, to the ire of the older members of his court. 

"Hey," he calls, "don't be shy! And don't be slow, either. Please. I missed dinner last night–" The girl clears her throat. Prince Steven takes on a more princely effect. "Please, come in." 

The audience isn't exactly paying attention. Any hope they had for a soul mate today has seemingly passed, and you can hear a few poorly muffled scoffs at your appearance. Surely the girl before you posed a more pleasing possibility. She looked like a princess. 

You stall a few paces from him. 

He frowns at you. In his garb, his neat clothes, a heavy platinum crown atop his head, he's strangely intimidating. You assumed he'd feel more familiar up close, like buying a gemstone from the catalogues and finding they've sent you zirconium, but it's the opposite. 

"Are you okay?" the girl asks. 

"She's fine," Prince Steven says, standing up from his ornate chair. He steps down from the short platform, even his steps a princely brand of perfection. "Well you're more than fine," he says to you, and you gather from the get go that he's not flirting with you, only joking to ease your nerves. 

He offers his hand. 

You take in a breath and approach him with measured steps. Being run through by his personal guards crystal sword isn't on your agenda this week. 

All you have to do is touch his hand and go home when nothing happens. You're nervous, but stalling any longer prolongs the awkwardness you've created. 

You step forward. 

Before your fingers can touch his palm, the feathered lines curled around your opposite wrists begin to glow. 

A silence falls. 

You take your hand back but the light doesn't fade. It's white, nearly cream in colour, with the density of fog but none of its cold. Prince Steven's eyes are wide and awash, the sun-kissed skin of his arm paled. "You–" he says, stepping forward again. 

You take his hand. You have to know. 

White light sears and then blooms, like petals unfurling, the source of it indistinguishable from your wrist or his. And then, when you're sure your heart might fall out of your mouth, the light dims. What remains is thin as fairy floss wrapped around your skin and his. 

He rubs the meat of your thumb with the tip of his, and that light glows soft pink, like flower jam. 

"It's you," he says. He sounds happy, as though you were a pleasant surprise. 

You tuck your hand behind your back, and the glow remains. It's you. You're Prince Steven's soul mate. 

"She doesn't look much like a princess," someone whispers. 

"I wouldn't say that," Prince Steven says, his eyes roving over you without apology. His smile is as authentic as they come. "I think you'd better meet my mother." 

"Now?" you ask. 

"Afraid so. Don't worry, though, you look pretty." He offers his hand again. "Come on."

He's a prince. You take his hand.

[novankenn]

Joan & Jean... Double Trouble

(Sequel to "Innocent Angel... Not a Chance!" and "Joan Arc and the BunnyGirls...")

It had been two days since the last "sleepover" and with Joan absent from Beacon to visit family... Weiss and Pyrrha were getting a desperately needed break. Even though the pair of young women still moved about Beacon with slight limps.

Weiss: I can't believe she can go that long?

Pyrrha: I know... I know... I seriously think you're right.

Weiss: Right about?

Pyrrha: Her wearing us out and breaking us... if Joan goes past cuddles for a long week-end... I don't think I would survive.

Weiss: Like I would? Just be happy she's only one girl...

Pyrrha: A girl we both want to be with.

Weiss: And have been with...

Their scrolls both chimed in a unique way, giving an instant indication of who was messaging them.

Pyrrha: Joan?

Weiss: I thought she'd be gone for another day or two?

Deciding to just use one scroll, Weiss pulled out hers and activated the messaging application.

Joan(Jaune): Hey, just letting you know I'm back. I missed you so much, even if it was only for a couple of days... ❤️���❤️

Joan(Jaune): So because I missed you so much... I asked for a favor from Aunt Glynda... ❤️💕❤️

Weiss: Wait Joan and Professor Goodwitch are related?

Pyrrha: Well there is a sort of family resemblance... maybe on his mother's side?

Joan(Jaune): So I've a surprise for you my love bunnies... ❤️💕❤️

Pyrrha: She does like those Heart Emojis doesn't she?

Weiss: It suits her... but I wonder what the surprise is?

Joan(Jaune): So if you come to classroom 412B I'll give you your surprise... love you... don't keep us waiting... ❤️💕❤️

Weiss: Us?

Pyrrha: Typo?

Weiss: Probably. So should we? Because we are still... recovering from our last rendezvous...

Pyrrha: We are... but this is Joan... and you know we can't stop.

Weiss just nodded her agreement and the pair moved off, still with slight limps towards the indicated classroom. They found it, obviously on the fourth floor hence the 4XX number, but also towards the rear of the school. Perfectly set for a solid amount of privacy. Pushing open the door, Weiss steps inside with Pyrrha following close behind.

Joan(Jaune): You made it! I was so worried!

Pyrrha/Weiss: Joan?

Joan(Jaune): Oh introductions! Pyrrha. Weiss. This is my twin sister Jean. She's been raving about meeting you ever since I showed her the bunny suit pics!

Pyrrha/Weiss: YOU SHOWED THOSE TO SOMEONE?!? WHY????

Jean: They are adorable! Are you sure they're up for this?

Pyrrha/Weiss: Huh? Up for...

Joan(Jaune): Of course my sweet bunnies are up for this... how else can I prove they are just perfect for me but by sharing them with you!

Pyrrha/Weiss: Say what now?

Jean: Shall we get started?

Joan(Jaune): Of course...

Weiss: Is it bad that I'm scared... but...

Pyrrha: You want to stay? No... no it's not.

Pyrrha reaches behind herself and locks the door.

[whateversawesome]

Let’s talk about SxF Chapter 82

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; even though Yor is currently not involved in the confrontation between the SSS and WISE, this arc is about Twiyor marriage.

Somehow, it seems like they are in each other’s mind. Just take a look...

To me, this small panel is probably the most important in the chapter: Twilight the master of disguise, best spy ever, WAVERS (!!!)

In addition to quivering, WAVER also means to become unsteady, unreliable, and undecided. A spy should never waver, it could cost him his life. So, why did the best spy of the West hesitate?

The reason is very clear to me. He has something on his mind...someone...😉

Remember what he said when Yor kicked him on the chin?

We saw his dangerous assassin mode. He was ready to defend himself from the SSS agent, but then he saw Yuri instead. It’s funny that he called him by his full name: Yuri Briar, just like he did a couple of chapters before, when he was apologizing to his wife. It was almost as a reminder of certain other Briar (aka Mrs. Forger).

Twilight had the opportunity to shoot and kill Yuri. He’s more experienced than him, he’s been in dangerous situations and killed before. But upon seeing his face, a last minute decision halted his most basic spy instincts:

Yuri is his enemy, but he’s also family. (Btw, Yuri looks like a kid here).

Twilight has surely heard from his wife all the love and effort she put on raising her brother. For a long time Yuri was her only family and she married him to avoid worrying him. He KNOWS how much Yuri means to Yor.

That last minute decision wasn’t that last minute at all. Even though he won’t admit it, he’d rather die before hurting his wife. AND he did promise he would never make her suffer that way again (even though he had no clue what she was talking about 😂)

Now, about Yor. To be honest, I thought that she would probably forget about the gripe, but thinking it through, those infidelity allegations are not so easily brushed off. It’s not like Loid has shown her he loves her explicitly and he is out all the time. (I think she misses him 💕 Look at those sad eyes!!)

In theory, Yor shouldn’t worry about this, since this is a fake marriage, right? The thing is Yor doesn’t see it as a fake marriage anymore. That’s why she wants to have gripes and welcome home kisses. She wants a normal marriage.

It was beautiful and heartbreaking to see her in the last panel. It meant so much, because right at that moment (probably) her husband was getting hurt. In marriage there’s a constant connection, especially when two people are in love (and these two are deeply in love).

I posted this before, but I’ll write it again, in case you didn’t see it:

This is marriage. 

When you hurt, I hurt. 

When you bleed, I bleed.

That blood wasn’t Yor’s. Since she mentions her husband and she's thinking about him, I think that last panel is Twilight’s blood.

Bonus: Yor doesn’t think about Yuri (who she raised like her kid) or Anya (who is her kid). She thinks about her husband!! I think she's finally stepping out of the role of mom to step into the role of wife/adult woman. In other words, Your honor, she’s in love 💖

Now, questions: Did Twilight get killed? No, I don’t think so. Severely injured? Maybe. But I believe it won’t be too severe, because he still has to confront Wheeler unless...(here comes the crazy theory): Who was Wheeler talking on the phone?

He didn’t show up at the appointment with the SSS. We don’t know where he is. So the crazy theory is that he could be involved with the Garden. Honestly, it’s a long shot. Unlikely, but it would also be a huge twist and you know l LOVE twists 😏

It could also fit, because if Twilight is injured and has to be pulled from the mission, WISE doesn’t stand a chance. AND it would leave Wheeler to appear at a later arc, now involved with the Garden and maybe our dear Thorn Princess (maybe, jealous Loid arc?) Unlikely, but fun it’s fun to dream.

My two cents: 

Twilight is the one who got shot, but is not deadly injured. He may actually have to go home early! 

Probably there will still be an encounter with Wheeler, but let’s hope he doesn’t have to fight him. Things are still very much in the air with Wheeler, so let’s just wait and see.

The arc is still very incomplete and could take a turn in any direction. I know a lot of you want some action/fighting between Twilight and Wheeler, but I would be happy if Mr. Spy just went home early to be with his wife and this turned into a complete Twiyor arc. We’ll see.

One last word about Yuri. Now, I think he’ll be the one who discovers Twilight’s identity. That kid is smart and if he starts putting the pieces together, he may end up discovering everything. This confrontation is one big piece and I’d like to believe that Twilight not killing Yuri will be a deciding factor in the end. I’ve said it before, at some point Yuri is going to have to choose between duty and his family and I believe he will choose his family (at a great personal cost).

But not only that, last time Twilight chose not to kill an enemy, something good has happened: When he spared Franky he began a transformation and stared working for peace. What will happen now that he chose not to kill another enemy? My guess is that he’ll become more human and it’ll have to do with Yor. 

Something tells me this is one of those chapters that will be VERY important in the future. So let’s keep an eye on it.

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Hello! I came back with another request!

I was wondering if you could please write something, with " I feel safer with you" kind of moment, please?

I would like to request this for Ryusui, kohaku ( girls need more love here) and ukyo, please?

Thank you!

welcome back anon! I think I went for what you’re asking for but if you don’t like it then feel free to let me know! Ngl they’re kinda long lol. I hope you enjoy 💕

I feel safer when I’m with you🩷

Ryusui: New America City Arc

“You’re staying here.” Ryusui demands you. You scowl. “Why?? I can help you sail the ship! I can keep Watch! There’s so many things I can do just let me come with y-“ This is the first time you’ve ever seen Ryusui so serious. Sure he was always focused and determined on something, but he never had such a solemn face. “(Y/n)…” he says as he drags you by the arm, leading you to the Perseus. “Please Ryusui…let me come with you.” “No…” This is when you lost it. “Why Ryusui?! This isn’t fair. We’ve been through everything together and now-“ “I want you to be safe ok?!!” Ryusui would never raise his voice at you. Ryusui’s voice has never trembled before. Ryusui’s eyes have never been filled with tears about to spill over. Ryusui has never desired something more in his whole life. “S-Stanley is going to come after us. He’s not gonna just slap our wrists and move on. No… he’s gonna come at us guns drawn and take every single one of us until he’s satisfied…” His eyes lock onto yours, desperation in them. “I can’t let you be put in that kind of danger. You have to be safe, I have to KNOW you have to be safe…” The water starts to fall out of his eyes. “We don’t have time for this, I have to get you to the Perseus before-“ He was shocked at the sudden soft lips onto his and the small hands that touched his face. He wraps his muscular arms around your waist and pull you closer to his body. As your lips slowly part, you softly smile at him. “Oh Ryusui, I’m never going to be safe unless I’m with you…” He’s stunned, confused on what you mean. “Remember, before the whole petrification, when you were at my place during a thunderstorm. The one that was on the news for weeks?” He nods. “I was doing the laundry, and you were building one of your model ships. I was almost done with the towels when the lights went out. Of course I started panicking, I’ve never not been scared of blackouts.” You chuckle, thinking of the memory. “I just sat on the couch, trembling, when I feel my favorite blanket wrapped around me.” Your mind travels back to that very day. You both remember every little detail from the cologne Ryusui was wearing to the conversations the both of you had to distract you. “As soon as you wrapped me in your arms, I felt a weight being lifted off my chest. I wasn’t afraid anymore, and it’s all because of you.” He reaches his hand out, tangling it in a few strands of your hair. “Please my love, if you want me to be safe then let me come with you…” He pauses, contemplating on what to do. “Fine, but let’s hurry.”

Kohaku: After Perseus is finished

The Perseus was finally done. Everyone celebrated for only a short while since Ryusui began calling names. One after the other, Ryusui calls name after name. “To help with ship maintenance, (y/n)!” You’re shocked at first that the Kingdom of Science wants you on their journey, but you except the offer with a small nod and walk onto the ship. Everyone greets you and welcomes you on board, well tried to. Kohaku snatched you up immediately, basically throwing you in the air because of how excited you are that you’re coming. “Thank goodness you’re here (y/n)! I thought I would have to separate from you!” You can’t help but blush and giggle at her reaction. After everyone boards and Ginro does his swimming to the boat thing you all head out to Treasure Island. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon night falls and you and Kohaku are the first on night watch. You both stand hand and hand as you lean on the sides of Perseus. The smell of the ocean sets the romantic mood as the stars provide some light for the both of you. Kohaku rests her head on your shoulder, letting out a small sigh. “I’m really happy you’re here (y/n), really. To be completely honest I thought you would stay behind. You’ve never really be the one to venture out.” You let out a laugh. “Well, you could say I wanted to stay close to a certain someone.” This made Kohaku giggle. “Besides, I was curious. To see more than just the island we live on.” Kohaku smiled softly while holding your hand a little tighter. “But…aren’t you even a little scared? About leaving your home?” You were shocked at her sudden vulnerability. The strong lioness showing her fear and worry. You squeeze her hand back. “Hey, we’ll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. As long as we have each other, there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiles at you, then gives you a small kiss on the cheek. You laugh to yourself. “Plus, I don’t have to worry about being mauled by a bear or something, I have Ishigami Village’s strongest warrior with me, I never have to worry with you around Kohaku!” Kohaku laughs at this, and if you’d look hard enough then you could notice the small blush forming on her face. “Thanks (y/n), I’m glad I can always count on you…” She takes a small step towards you before sharing a delicate kiss.

Ukyo: Stone Wars

You were sitting outside of Tsukasa’s cave, waiting for the meeting between Tsukasa, Hyoga, and Ukyo to end. As you were about done picking the random flowers that found their way through the rock, you see Hyoga angrily stomp pass you. You look in the cave as Tsukasa and Ukyo walk out. “(Y/n).” Tsukasa says as he nods at you, walking to a quiet place to think. Ukyo sighs as he walks over to you, grabbing both your hands and kissing them. “Tough meeting?” You whisper. He nods. “Let’s get you some food then you can tell me all about it yeah?” “I’d love that.” He smiles as you both walk hand and hand to your shared hut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night eventually falls as you and Ukyo cuddled close together for warmth. “What’s on your mind Ukyo? You’ve been acting strange ever since your meeting with Tsukasa and Hyoga.” Ukyo barries his face in your neck, breathing softly. “Hyoga was telling Tsukasa that we should only revive the strongest while Tsukasa believes only the young should survive.” He buries his head deeper, taking in your scent. You rub his ear, making his face heat up. “And how do you feel about that? Do you agree with letting a few live and the rest die?” You already knew the answer, but you had to hear it from his mouth. Ukyo holds you tighter when you feel your neck become wet with his tears. “N-no one should die, w-why do we have to d-decide who lives or dies? It’s not right!” You cup his face and wipe his tears. “That’s not all you want to tell me, is it?” He stares up at you, hesitant. He touches your hand and kisses it. “I found a phone.” A phone? In the stone world? How? “On the other side was the Kingdom of science…” Yes, Tsukasa’s current enemy. “Their leader, Senku, said if I could help them, they’ll prevent anymore bloodshed and stop the destruction of the statues…” Hes scared to tell you more, but he holds you tighter. “What else Ukyo?” “I cant, the more you know, the more likely Tsukasa could harm you. I have to keep you safe..!” You grab his face making him look at you. “Listen to me, I’m here with you. No matter what we face we’ll do it together. And as for my safety, I know that I’m safe when I’m with you!” This causes Ukyo’s tears to fall out again. He looks down and takes a breath. “I agreed. I dont want anyone else to die…” You squeeze his hand and kiss his hand. “Then no one else will. We’ll make sure if it. Together…”

[percheduphere]

Okay. First post trying to use gifs properly. I've switched out improper gifs for these type for my last 3-4 posts. Gonna work on some more corrections tomorrow when I have time. Please let me know if I'm misstepping anywhere. Thanks for your patience! That said...

LET'S TALK ABOUT SYLVIE💕, INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM (SYLVIE & LOKI)✊🏽, AND QUEER REPRESENTATION (LOKIUS)🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️!

SYLVIE

I'm rooting for Lokius, AND I also love how much Sylvie has forged a life for herself in S2. A lot of her development is implied, so I think it's worth looking at her growth outside the context of Loki himself: She found a job, locals know her by name, she has friends and acquaintances, she has hobbies!

People call her by name in her timeline on 4 occasions:

1. When the McDonald's shift manager (John) checks in on her after work. See the kid with the tie in the image below. I couldn't find any gifs of him visiting Sylvie at her truck. She asked him if his mom was gonna pick him up to make sure he was gonna be okay late at night. 🥹

2. When a customer picks up their McDonald's order and thanks her (cheerfully). Also note how many employee stars she had on her badge! Queen.

3. Lyle at the record store. They seem like really good friends, and I got the "beginnings of an attraction" vibe between the two of them. Unfortunately, the gifs below are the only ones I could find of him and I'm still searching for the source. His interaction with Sylvie before spaghetti-trauma was so sincere. He could tell she was down and offered her Velvet Underground. Come on, that's a solid move.

4. Eric at the bar, who comments 2 shots of bourbon is a good choice. Let me tell you, finding a gif of Eric was like finding a needle in a haystack, but here he is leaning close to Sylvie. Thank you, @zehiiro!

I tried to find more gifs of all the people Sylvie has in her life but couldn't find any, which is a darn shame because there are so many subtle cues she's built a support system on her own and she's thriving.

She's a regular at many places in her timeline, and when people greet her, they do so with a smile. She loves music, a hard drink, and punk fashion.

When she engages with Loki, she may come across as cold, but I honestly think she's being firm with her boundaries and true to her beliefs. The TVA threatened her life for centuries. I don't doubt setting foot in the building is traumatic for her, which may explain why she was more harsh than usually in S2E4. Her psychological defenses were all on overdrive. Yet when Sylvie's in her own timeline, far away from the TVA, she can be her real self. Turns out, her real self is pretty well-liked! (I'll talk about how this is mirrored in Loki soon).

INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM

Sylvie's an unapologetically "selfish" woman who knows what she wants, wants it on her own, is doing it on her own, and isn't afraid to put her foot down when it comes to her personal boundaries. We should be applauding all of that!

This is exactly the kind of female representation we need, but the show did Sylvie a disservice in S1 by coming at her character as a love interest first (look at all the media promos classifying her as such) instead of more thoughtfully showing how badly she has been affected by the TVA and planting what her desires are throughout. If they had done this with more intention and finesse, her position in S2 wouldn't come off as completely irresponsible.

As a result of this apparent marketing and pre-production development decision, her perception as a character (by both lokius and sylki shippers) is muddled by the question of her relationship status with Loki. This truly isn't fair, most especially to Sophia Di Martino.

Of course, Sylvie isn't perfect. No well-written character should be. I just think she's cooler than she gets credit for precisely because her character arc doesn't require the fulfillment of a romance. She will be fine whether or not she ends up with Loki. It's very feminist!

Loki, in turn, found safety, belonging, and love at the TVA. All the things that are the complete opposite of Sylvie's lived experience. I often see fans complaining about how Loki is ooc in his own series.

The thing is, and Loki admits this himself: it's all part of an illusion.

This illusion started far before the first Thor movie. He comes from a hyper-masculine (dare I say toxic-masculine) warrior society. His true nature doesn't conform with this, so he has to overcompensate with some (genuinely awesome) bad assery.

BUT he doesn't like it.

As a comparison to a far lesser but more relatable degree: imagine putting on a customer service persona 24/7. UGH. It's just not sustainable without becoming increasingly angry and bitter, which is what Sacred Timeline Loki becomes. Mobius gets ahead of this.

In the series, Loki can finally TURN OFF that persona, and TURN IT ON again when it's needed (and fun!).

He also now has the freedom to be silly, expressive, and magical (unapologetically queer!) without anyone making fun of him for it.

The end result is a much calmer, happier, likable person (like Sylvie in her timeline, his defenses are no longer on overdrive!). Who shows him this is possible?

Here's the receipt:

QUEER REPRESENTATION

Sociopoliticaly, Loki and Mobius come from a different angle. A lot of men (cis, fluid, trans, or otherwise) struggle with the social expectation of burying feelings and never ever showing vulnerability, especially to another men. Now, some might argue that shipping men together perpetuates this construct. There's some truth to this, but only through the lens that it is shameful to be gay. In order to get to a point in society where there's no shame in being mistaken as gay (or queer, generally) when being affectionate with another man, there must be continuous positive representation of homosexual relationships in which the characters are not stereotypes. Loki and Mobius are exactly this, especially Mobius.

Whereas Loki, on Asgard, represents the openly queer oppressed (i.e. magic and cunning, qualities historically tied to witches or "immoral women" instead of brute strength), Mobius can represent the closeted repressed.

In S1, Mobius was much more uptight, rule-abiding, and just shy of holier-than-thou. The power structure in which he existed perpetuated this, until Loki reveals to him it was all a lie (an illusion).

In S2, he becomes more flexible, more fun-loving, and more expressive in his affection. In S1, most of his support of Loki manifested as words of affirmation. In S2, his support extended to physical touch and bonding. Mobius, if seen through the lens of a closeted man allegory, finds the courage (and partner) to slowly come out.

[skeletorrito]

first part of my new satosugu plasma vessel arc fic 😁

it's a rough draft, but i like where it's going so far !!! pls provide feedback 💕 thanks! ☺️

Okinawa

“Let’s just fly out tomorrow morning, Suguru!” Satoru Gojo called out to his friend as he splashed in the clear ocean waves of Okinawa. 

Riko Amanai’s eyes sparkled at this idea. She peered up at Satoru, who was initially tormenting her with a creepy-looking sea cucumber. 

Suguru Geto frowned, hand coming up to his brow to block the sun. “You know we can’t…” He called back, standing and dusting sand off of himself. He padded over to a shady spot. 

Satoru, bone-dry from head to toe, met him on the shore. “C’mon, Sugu, the weather will hold up, and there’s not as many curse users around. What’s one more day to go sightseeing?” He challenged with a pout. “We’ll just let the bounty expire while we’re in the air.”

Suguru’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. He leaned in and murmured, “You haven’t released your technique since yesterday, have you?” 

Satoru’s eyes grew wide. He remained silent, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You haven’t slept, either, and I know you don’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he looked Satoru up and down, taking note of the heavy bags under his eyes. “I’m worried about you, Satoru. You sure we don’t need to go back?”

He gave Suguru a playful punch and reassured him, “I’m fine, really, stop worrying. I’ve stayed up longer playing Stardew Valley.” He leaned in closer, grinning as he added, “Plus, you’re here too.” 

Suguru softened at this comment. 

Satoru smirked as he continued in a suggestive whisper near Suguru’s ear, “And you’re going to keep me up tonight, right?”  

Suguru flushed beet red, muttering, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt..."

“Hey, Riko, we’re staying!” 

Riko cheered at this. 

So, unsurprisingly, the group ended up sightseeing for the rest of the day. 

Satoru packed the day with fun activities: tandem kayaking, shopping for souvenirs, visiting botanical gardens, eating ramen, and finally, the best part, visiting Okinawa’s aquarium. 

If Suguru had any idea of what a “perfect date” was, this would have to be it. 

He gazed at Satoru lovingly, admiring how the glowing aquarium tanks reflected in his equally beautiful ocean eyes. Satoru, in his own impulsive way of course, planned this whole amazing day for everyone even while sleep-deprived and anxious. Suguru glanced over at Riko and Kuroi, both of whom looked on in wonder and excitement at the exhibits. He noticed Satoru’s attention also shifted to them, smiling to himself. 

He’s being so thoughtful today... 

Suddenly, Suguru filled with emotion. He reflected on how precious Satoru was to him and it almost hurt how intensely he wanted to cherish him. His fingers nudged at Satoru’s, and Satoru responded by lacing them tightly, uncaring of curious onlookers. Everyone else faded into the background, as they often did when he was with Suguru. They stood in comfortable silence as they watched sea creatures dart and weave around them. 

“It’s like we’re on vacation…” Suguru thought aloud, smiling softly to himself.

Satoru peeked at him through the corner of his sunglasses and matched his smile. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Satoru replied, fixing his gaze on the giant, majestic whale passing over them.

Suguru squeezed his hand gently. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

They rented a quaint, two-bedroom beach house for the night. Misato Kuroi, the only true adult present (because let’s be honest, two eighteen-year-old high-school students barely make up a single, functional adult), helped organize this with Suguru. He managed to smooth-talk his way into the last beach house vacancy in Okinawa for the night under her supervision.  

“It’s only two bedrooms…” Kuroi commented as they all settled in. “Is that okay for you both? There might be a spare futon…”

“It’s fine,” they both replied in unison, side-eyeing each other and giggling quietly as they shuffled inside with their bags. 

Kuroi looked surprised at first, then her face softened and she smiled. “You two must be very close.” 

“Yeah, we’re boy-” Satoru started. 

“Best friends. We’re best friends.” Suguru finished. He shot a warning look at Satoru. 

Satoru clenched his teeth into an awkward, apologetic smile and escaped into the bedroom. Kuroi’s eyebrows rose as she studied Suguru’s face curiously. They exchanged uncomfortable, polite smiles and farewells, then scurried to their respective bedrooms. 

He frowned as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Can you try to be a little more subtle? We’re still on a mission, after all…” He muttered in a low volume, dropping his backpack on the floor next to the bed. 

Satoru flopped onto the bed with a relieved sigh, spreading out his stuff wherever he felt like it. His sunglasses were the only thing folded neatly on the bedside table. “Oh, whatever, stop being so uptight. Let’s just enjoy this little vacation together while we can.” He patted at the spot next to him, wiggling his finger in a “come hither” motion.

Suguru conceded, pulling the elastic from his bun as he joined Satoru on the mattress. “I’m glad we stayed. You planned a really nice day, Satoru.” He settled into a plush pile of pillows, his long, dark hair splaying in beautiful contrast to the white pillows. 

“I know. You’re welcome.” Satoru took this opportunity to wriggle closer, slipping under Suguru’s arm and resting his head on his chest. He snaked his long arms around Suguru’s waist, sighing happily as he squeezed tightly.

“Take a nap, you need it,” Suguru suggested, hooking his arm around Satoru’s shoulders and reaching up to thread his fingers into fluffy white hair. He pulled out his phone to set an alarm. 

Satoru yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open in Suguru’s warm embrace. “I can’t… Gotta protect her…” Despite his arguments, he nuzzled his face further into Suguru’s shoulder. 

“I’ll stay up and wake you in a couple of hours. I’ve already got curses patrolling outside. You don’t have to do this alone, y’know.”

Satoru forced his eyes to open as best as he could so he looked up at Suguru appreciatively. Then, he smiled deviously with another brilliant idea written across his face. “I’ll sleep… if you jump in the ocean with me later tonight.”

Suguru snorted as he scrolled through his phone, “Satoru, that’s a terrible idea.” 

“My ideas are never terrible,” Satoru mumbled, eyelids growing heavy again. He finally closed them as he mumbled, sadly and quietly, “You didn’t even get in today… I wanted to swim with you.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Suguru smiled, kissing the top of Satoru’s head. His hair smelled like sweet citrus. “Now get some rest.” 

Satoru hummed sleepily before he drifted off, “I know you’ll say yes.” 

Suguru laughed quietly to himself. 

I probably will.

Satoru woke in a panic two hours later, gasping and attempting to sit up. He was still firmly tucked against Suguru, who jolted at Satoru’s sudden movements. Satoru lifted his head, eyes wide with anxiety. “Wha- What time is it?! Where’s Riko!?”

Suguru patted him, coaxing his head back down. “Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Riko’s sleeping, everything’s fine. It’s only 11pm.”

Satoru relaxed into the touch, sighing. “Good, I’m glad.” He sat up and stretched with a yawn. “Only 11? That’s perfect. Let’s go for a dip.” He grinned widely and stood. Clearly, an extra few hours of sleep did the job. “C’mon, we’re already in swimsuits.”

Suguru rolled his eyes, groaning, “Ugh I was really hoping you’d forget about that. It’s going to be freezing, Satoru.” He stretched out across the mattress, shaking the numb arm Satoru was sleeping on. 

“Exactly,” Satoru replied and booped Suguru on the nose with his finger. “It’ll keep us awake.” 

Suguru took a silent moment to consider. He hated (loved) that Satoru could convince him into these shenanigans so easily. He finally agreed, but on one condition, “I’m only going in if you promise not to use Infinity.” He squinted at him, a serious look on his face. “This is your idea, so you have to commit. Otherwise, I’m staying here.”

Satoru’s face fell. He pouted, “But-”

“We can take a shower together after.” 

Satoru immediately agreed, blushing wildly, “Okay fine. No Infinity.”

[eliteseven]

Did Serena and Shadowheart follow the same romantic arc as in the game (first kiss at the party, making things official after Gauntlet, first time at the beach, etc)? Or did it go entirely differently? Who fell first for the other? How did the other companions react? We know there have been a few "bumps" here and there, like the life expectancy talk, or Shads just being a gremlin early on lmao, but how are things between them overall (before full domesticity life at the cottage, which they 100% deserve 😭)?

I love them both so much and i'm simply obsessed with how you write them, thank you for sharing that with us 🙏🙏

AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH 💕 I put a lot of love into writing them, I’m THRILLED you love them too!! 🥰 thank you for the sweet words, week made!!!

For ease of reading (bc damn I started and did NOT shut up lol), I’ll detail their journey under the cut: (with a few screenies) 😊

I used the game’s romantic arc to structure the basis of their relationship- so all these events did happen, though I’ve messed with the timeline a little.

-their relationship is contentious at first. When Serena finds out she’s a worshipper of Shar- it’s obviously a little jarring, despite the honesty. She trusts Shadowheart about as much as Astarion, fangs and all. Shadowheart (besides being a gremlin in general at first lol) thinks Serena is probably the easiest to manipulate in the group (her other options are Astarion and Lae’zel- and those are non starters). She mistakes Serena’s kindness for naivety, I think. Serena is…exhausted by all these…unique…personalities 💀 she has a worm in her head and a very opinionated Sharran in her ear

-Still, they exchange some not so subtle stares at camp, their first couple of evenings together. Shadowheart pretends not to look at Tav when she insists on sparring with Lae’zel to stay sharp. Tav pretends not to look when Shadowheart comes out in her haute couture Sharran full body lingerie 😭 they both fail miserably!! The constant thirsting/staring game begins!!

-I actually think Shadowheart falls first. She intended to simply use Tav to get rid of the worm. She didn’t count on Tav being so…good 🫠

-When Astarion bites Tav- it’s Shadowheart who reacts most viscerally. Everyone thinks it’s just her threatening to stake a vampire for her own safety, but…she’s jealous!!!

-when they meet Wyll, (not the first time for Tav!)- he accidentally outs her as a member of one of the patriar families of Baldur’s Gate. He’s happy to see a familiar face, but…Cue the ridicule from those who think she’s a soft ass noble playing dress up as a knight. Shadowheart and some of the others are downright mean about it. Still, Shadowheart takes note of her prowess during the fight outside the grove. She’s interested, now. Then Tav goes on to give all she has to the Tiefling kids and joins Wyll on teaching them to fight. Shadowheart starts to see her priorities and…likes them secretly 😭

-They find themselves drawn to each other, regardless. When Shadowheart shows true fear before a wolf, it’s Tav who steps in front of her and gently tugs her away. During long walks, she and Tav often find themselves side by side. Tav doesn’t pry- but her stoicism fades with time. She tells Shadowheart little stories of her time in Cormyr. Shadowheart, in turn, begins to confide in her. They sit together at the camp fire. They don’t touch, just yet. But the longing is building. Still, Shadowheart isn’t afraid to let her hear it when she disagrees- and boy, do they squabble.

-Shadowheart doesn’t intervene when Tav is whipped for Loviatar’s blessing or w/e- like I mentioned before, that breeds resentment. Tav is getting whiplash from Shadowheart. Sometimes she’s so sweet, so soft…and then she reverts back to cruelty, taking pleasure in others’ pain. She heals Tav’s wounds, and feels guilty. She’s realizing Tav is not a simple amusement, to be discarded right after use. She has…real feelings for her 😅 she’s drawn to Tav’s kindness and wants to return the favor, and this puts her at odds with Shar’s teachings

-The party is still their first kiss and first “date” if you will. Shadowheart plays coy but appreciates Serena remembering so much about her. She’s…touched, as much as she is attracted.

-At this point, they’re something of a fledgling couple. The group knows, of course- but Shadowheart does NOT entertain Tav publicly. They’re flirting, stealing kisses behind tents, taking long walks together at night, anything away from prying eyes. Shadowheart doesn’t want anybody questioning her faith…Shar included. Still, Shadowheart wants Tav all to herself. She doesn’t like when the other members of the group cozy up to her. She’s conflicted.

-the push into the Shadow Cursed lands puts a little distance between them. When Shadowheart is all ecstatic about Shar protecting her from the curse, Serena points out that she isn’t protected, along with the others. Shads hits her with “you’re resourceful, you’ll figure it out” 😅. That hurts, a lot- given their new relationship. her obsession with Shar frightens Tav to an extent, but she understands Shadowheart is indoctrinated. It’s hard to reconcile how sweet she is in one moment , with how cruel she can be in the next. Tav tells Shadowheart she feels her pulling away. Shadowheart agrees.

-The trials and their conclusion absolutely wreck Shadowheart, of course. Shar has abandoned her. In her hour of need, at her lowest point- Tav tells her how proud she is 🥹💕 she swears to Shadowheart that she may not have Shar, but she will always have her, if that’s what she wants. Shadowheart hasn’t known unconditional love like this before. She wants Tav fully, she’s tired of denying herself happiness.

-The night on the beach is their first time sleeping together. I considered changing this in the timeline- but I think it works beautifully. Shadowheart is genuinely frightened to be swimming- she would only do that with someone she was truly in love with.

-from there, they’re quite public about their relationship. Shadowheart changes her look to reflect her new lot in life. Tav adores it, adores her. Shadowheart softens. It’s a lot more domestic and sweet. This would pretty much put them around the beginning of act 3, give or take! Tav risks everything with Shadowheart to get her parents back. Things are really looking up for them 🥰

This brings us to the point where the NLS series picks up!

[molinaskies]

To answer this reblog https://www.tumblr.com/molinaskies/756745213630939136/alexs-prompt-folder-anonymously-or-not-tell

This was extremely difficult to answer considering the amount of MOMENTS that had me melting, like the photos in Chapter 6. But if I had to pick, it would be:

"Who was it who taught Gamma, a non-sentient robot, how to think and feel? Who appealed to Shadow's love and dedication when he was blinded by rage and fury and revenge and pain? Who stepped up to keep Cream and Big hopeful when Metal Sonic kidnapped their friends? Who kept my head on straight when I was all bummed-out over 'mister monster guy'?" I squeeze her shoulders tighter with each question. "Amy, who keeps me fighting every single day?"

Ik this line may not be as deep as later on in the fic (won’t say what for spoilers to others 💅please go read it, it’s better that way).

But my heart was in joy having Sonic tell Amy about her efforts and what she accomplished from literally just being unashamedly Amy, even when it’s not acknowledged often or seen as important as what the other characters have achieved.

And the last line??? 🫠

Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this one! Thank you for your kind words 💕

I’ve seen some feedback that Amy’s arc in ILYCWM feels “out of character” or “regressive,” in that Amy’s been more confident and productive in recent iterations. I get that, to a degree, but I still completely stand by my decision to delve into Amy’s anxieties the way I did.

I started writing ILYCWM in 2021 as an “in defence of Amy Rose” from Sonic’s perspective. I wanted to showcase how Sonic views Amy, what he appreciates about her, with the overall “point” to prove that he’s always loved her. My original outline was built on the different traits of Amy’s I wanted to highlight: chapter 2 focused on Amy’s silly, adventurous side; chapter 3 focused on her compassion and stubbornness, with hints of a strong desire to prove herself alongside a weakness to (rare) praise; and so on.

Of course, as I kept writing, Sonic’s character arc evolved in a parallel to Amy’s, but it was important to me to build up Sonic’s view of Amy in order to shatter that paradigm with how Amy views herself. That’s where the climax you quoted came from! It serves the purpose of not only showing Amy her value but showing the audience her value.

As for the last line, I’m not sure which one you’re referring to, actually! Depending on when you read the fic, you would have read it before or after the prologue was released (which came about 4 months later). Let me know!

“[…] her shield of optimism shattered in front of me, and seeing the dysphoric state she lives in daily shattered mine. We put each other back together, but we traded a few shards in the process, and I’ve been living the effects of our new mosaic ever since.”

———

“I Love You - Come With Me”

What if when Sonic asks Amy to go with him on an adventure, she says yes? They’ve always been inseparable kindred spirits, but what exactly makes their bond so unique, and where do they make each other stronger?

This is my Sonamy Thesis. This is that story.

[ps-cactus]

HELLO CACTUS VIC BABE HELLO!! :D

dropping some questions for nomnombelyn alyn🍫

🍫 What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?

🍫 What is the origin of their personality? And let's be honest - how much of it is projecting?

🍫 How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

Sending much love!!!! ❤️‍🔥

HI CASPER VIC THANK YOU FOR QUESTIONS HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT BABE 💖💖🫂✨nomnombelyn says hello and thank you for all the chocolate 😆💕

1. Her life wasn't the worst one before Hogwarts (that's what she tells herself but we know better lol), she was sure she can handle all what happened in fifth year. She keeps telling herself she's strong and manages even (especially) when she doesn't, so she's bottling up a lot and it does her most damage, because when she realises she's not okay - it's too late to fix it easily and everything is already not just on fire, but hopelessly burned to ashes and requires rebuilding from a scratch. I want her to be an illustration for why it's important not to ignore small signs you're not alright (this comes from my depression experience so partly that answers to second question as well)

Ummm happy ending?.... never heard of those 😅

2. She's a lot like me, her personality type is how I see me, so yeah projecting is projecting. But she's definitely braver than I am, more thoughtful and forgiving. She's also definitely more engaging and enthusiastic about the adventure and gaining knowledge no matter what's the risk of it.

3. Oh that was hard. First I went for the name I used for my OC in the other fandom for fanfiction, she used to be just Amber. That's when I came up with idea that her adoptive mother gave her name because she had bright amber eyes (lore - mother is a dressmaker and bright and unusual for a blonde girl eye colour inspired her). Then I thought that would be too easy 😆 so Amber became just a short form MC hates. Now she goes with the other nickname (her mother came up with) - Alyn, but she's also okay with being called Amberlyn.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

✨Fic Rec✨ - Divergent Fist 🍙💍

Buckle up, Inuokko enjoyers! It's time to check out Divergent Fist! If this story doesn't already have you in a chokehold, constantly on the edge of your seat, then it's time to dedicate a whole afternoon getting caught up. Make a tea, grab your weighted blanket, and read the 12 current chapters of this incredible doujinshi.

RATED M. Content Warnings - Canon-typical violence and gore, post-Shibuya incident, sexual content, lots of angst, trauma and related physical and emotional reactions (AKA Toge has no food left in his stomach).

Divergent Fist follows the stories of Toge Inumaki and Yuuta Okkotsu, navigating the world of jujutsu sorcerers, trauma and healing, and budding romance in the aftermath of the Shibuya incident. Expertly balancing the soft moments with the devastating, ArtMop (she/her) is in the midst of crafting a doujin that is sure to stand the test of time and become a classic for any fans of BL in the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom.

To start off, I'd like to be transparent that yes, I do edit ArtMop's chapters and help with the general planning of the series. I have a clear bias. That being said, I genuinely believe that this doujin is not getting the attention it deserves, and I just want to shout my love for it from the top of a mountain. Let me give a hardworking creator some love, okay?

First off, let's talk about the #1 selling point of DF - it is an illustrated fanfic that updates regularly and is accessible entirely for free. What more could you possibly ask for? You wanted more Toge content? More Yuuta content? Well, here you go!

It is worth noting that the art itself, despite being above average to begin with, improves drastically throughout the story. The anatomy, expressions, and details in the last few chapters are breathtaking. With each installment in the DF series, ArtMop improves and improves and improves. I, personally, wait with bated breath for the drop of the next color cover, the next insert art. There doesn't seem to be a ceiling in sight when it comes to ArtMop's swiftly growing skill, and I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for her. If she applies a fraction of the same dedication to honing her craft to anything else in her life, she may become the next president... or something far cooler.

Stunning visuals aside, the story itself is magnificent. It integrates canon world building, mixed with original cursed techiques and characters, so seamlessly that it feels as though this is an actual spin-off of Jujutsu Kaisen. Perhaps an alternate universe where underutilized characters are given a bit more depth (shots fired 👈😎👈)?

The character arcs have been set in motion! We have Toge refusing to acknowledge his trauma. We have Yuuta's sexual awakening. We have a deeper look into Maki's friendship with Toge, and a delightful duo of new first years. And best of all? We have a villain with an interesting motive. It's clear that ArtMop has so much planned, more than we can possibly imagine! We are already starting to see how relationships are developing, how each character manages the aftermath of certain choices differently, and the story is only going to build from here.

Chapter 12 has just been posted on Tapas and Tumblr, and if you're craving even more Divergent Fist content, there are even a couple behind the scenes moments found on Archive of Our Own. Listen, as someone who knows the trajectory of the story, please check out this amazing series. You may be chewing your nails (like Toge) waiting for the next chapter, but I promise you that being along for the ride is part of the journey, and it will all be worth it in the end.

Okay, ramble over! Thank you for listening! Here, have a cute trio pic from the cover of Chapter 8:

Huge thank you to @artmopworks for this incredible work, and for letting me scream about her doujin. 💕

[dross-the-fish]

First of all I just really want to say I absolutely LOVE your art and specially the way you draw Erik, Leroux-Erik my beloved 😭💕

Ok ANYWAY. I saw your posts discussing about Erik and how the Phandom portray him and Raou, and I really want to point out some of my views (in the healthiest and most polite way possible!!!)

I'm not trying to deny Erik's flaws nor that I have an obvious bias since he's my favorite character ever AAAND Raoul is a character I dislike a LOT for multiple reasons lol but, I want to adress that: Erik is a person that endured multiple ways of abuse and humiliation in his life, since he was a child. He has multiple scenes of trauma response and, as you pointed out your post, acts impulsively many times and also shows clear remorse for his actions. What I think separates him from Raoul is (aside from the obvious class diference and the fact that Erik has a whole history of trauma and evidences of mental illness) the fact that Erik learns something from his selfish, self-destructive behaviour. He *had* a chance to end up with Christine if he didn't so shitty with her, and this is very impactful in the end specially because Leroux didn't treat him as a villain who deserved punishment, but as a traumatized AND completely abandoned person who fucked up pretty bad

Obviously, despite my personal beef with Raoul, I don't think he's some sort of abusive devil or any shit like that. I just think Christine would be better at her own. Forgetting Erik's flaws for a minute — Raoul *is* very manipulative, childish and uncaring towards Christine. He, unlike Erik, doesn't learn from his mistakes and presents the same behavior until the end of the story. Idk my girl Christine could be better at her own, single, following her career. The fact that Raoul was born in a rich family in the 19th century and didn't face any of the poberty or struggles that lower-classed people like Daroga, Erik and Christine had also make his character waaaay more difficult to like in my point of view. I'm NOT SAYING THAT "being rich makes you evil" (duh) nor that Erik's actions are ok, just to be clear! It just bothers me how so many people treat Raoul like a saint little puppy and Erik as a monster, like COME ON

Now, back to Erik: I'm not saying you intended to mean that, but I have a huge problem with how part of the Phandom thinks Erik had malicious intentions when approaching Christine, or that his feelings for her are fake. The "Erik knew precisely what he was doing since the start" really makes sense considering how his redemption arc went in the novel. Obviously this changes a lot in many adaptations (for example he's clearly much more self-aware and manipulative in the musical). But Leroux-Erik *genuinely* believed he was doing the right thing. Maybe he had an idea of "uuuugh maybe this is pretty bad maybe i should stop" but the self-destructive-fear-of-abandoment-everything-is-fine voice spoke louder. Let's not forget that what turned Erik into having such a violent mental breakdown was not "Christine doesn't love me and I must punish her" bullshit, it was when he heard her speaking not so many cool things about him and his appearance at his back (NOT BLAMING OR HATING HER, I love Christine, I'm talking about Erik's pov). If Erik didn't love Christine, or if he was a monster, he wouldn't feel any guilty for his actions. The most impactful thing in the ending of POTO is that Erik realized he had treated the woman he loved like trash and even still she showed him the compassion he needed

Ok ending this long ass text, I just wanted to state that I agree with a lot of your points specially how the Phandom tends to summarize everything to black and white even though most of the characters are all morally grey. I wanted people to stop dehumanizing a mentally ill abuse survivor like Erik while also stop hating on a poor woman who never asked to be put into Raoul's or Erik's bullshit lol thanks for having the patience to read, I'm really curious to know what your thoughts about this are 💕💕💕

I appreciate your courtesy, I understand where you are coming from but there are a few points i'm not sure I fully agree with. While it is fair to depict Erik as traumatized or mentally ill, I feel these are ultimately reasons for his behavior, not justifications. I agree that he is a sympathetic character and his story is a tragic one, I also agree that Erik had a great capacity for good under better circumstances. Leroux says "he had a heart that could hold empires but had to content himself with a cellar," or something to that effect and I believe that's true. But some of Erik's behavior cannot be written off as impulse or trauma response. He was still an assassin who built torture chambers and even when no longer in Persia he still had a torture chamber in his home that he made use of. He has enough agency that he can still be held responsible for all of the death and destruction he caused even as we acknowledge that he doesn't enjoy killing and feels remorse. How he deals with his remorse in particular is a bit of a sticking point for me. Erik's consistent ability to willfully "forget" what he does or completely deny the severity of his crimes is very likely a product of guilt but the presence of guilt is not a sign of virtue and after awhile it starts to feel like he is first and foremost dodging accountability. He never feels guilty enough to stop and prefers instead to alleviate his internal discomfort by emotionally distance himself from his actions. I also think it's important to acknowledge that Erik is a villainous character and he is violent with Christine. He does try terrorize her and coerce her into marrying him by threatening to kill her and everyone else. To be honest that's why I like his redemption, because he actually NEEDS to be redeemed. You can't redeem a character that never fell from grace. If we can't hold him accountable for his choices and acknowledge the full harm he did then his redemption is hollow. On the subject of Raoul, Leroux tends to write him as being kind of young and stupid and most of his boorish behavior the product of youthful impulse and the older I get the more I'm inclined to agree. This doesn't make Raoul right or even necessarily likeable but if we're giving Erik grace based on the author's sentiments towards the character we should probably give some to Raoul as well. Ultimately I feel Raoul redeems himself by proving he's willing to die for Christine. He throws himself into mortal peril to save her because he does love her. Yes, he has a lot of privilege compared to other characters and it certainly contributes to him coming off spoiled and bratty at times but at the end of the day he and Christine do love each other and he is who she chose. I'll admit I sometimes feel compelled to defend Raoul even if he's not remotely close to my favorite character just because the fandom tends to over inflate his flaws and hold him to the worst faith interpretation while making every excuse under the sun for Erik. The phandom will go to great lengths to see nuance and humanity in Erik's behavior but not in Raoul's and, while I have my own character preferences and Erik is certainly my favorite by a long shot, I try to be fair and empathetic to ALL the characters in the story, whether I actually like them or not.

[trashlie]

I haven't talked Stalkyoo - or even ILY, period - in a LONG while here on tumblr and a lot of it had to do with the funk I was going through, the lack of energy I had and the inability to really gather my thoughts and force myself to be cohesive enough to actually put them down, but like I said, I've felt myself coming alive again, and with that, I've found myself falling back into my comfort zones of picking at ILY and the themes I love, the parallels, the juxtapositions, and yes, all the minute details that make Stalkyoo so special, what it is about them within the constraints of their universe that is so appealing.

We all know I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the purpose the Shinlyssa flashback serves, especially in serving to illustrate just how deeply Nol has hurt Shinae in doing to her what Alyssa had already done before, and why it's so significant that she is willing to forgive him and let him go at that time. As the story moves on from that night, we know that flashback inserted at that pont serves to help us better understand the things Alyssa doesn't reveal - the implication that she lives in an abusive home, that she is gay, that her desire to be popular is more about filling a psychological unmet need to be loved - as we watch her arc set up for the post-time skip second season.

But crucially, the flashback reinforces that Shinae fell for Nol for the same reason he fell for her: he made her feel special.

Shinae's trauma about her past with Alyssa, head injury aside, was that she didn't understand why. It was that Alyssa was special to her but she felt like Alyssa cast her aside, like the feeling wasn't mutual. Even regarding Rika and Maya, until she finally talked things out, she felt like she was just... there, that she didn't mean anything. Her mother left and took her sister and then what. Never calls, never writes, not even birthday cards or even a postcard??? Of course a child will feel like she was discarded, the unwanted one!

Shinae is so used to feeling like she is replaceable, easy to toss away and forget about, not worth a second thought or glance.

And then comes this earnest, handsome guy SO KEEN on getting under her skin, into her head, earning her friendship, and though it annoys her at first, he grows on her. She starts to VALUE it, his actions. She finds herself missing it when he changes and withdraws, aware of the change but uncertain of exactly what is different. As he pulls away she finds that she's the one doing the chasing now.

He made her feel like she's special. Like she matters. Like there is some kind of great value to her. How could she not fall for the person who made her feel seen when she was so used to blending in and taking up as little space as possible?

The juxtaposition of the Shinlyssa flashback set against Shinae and Nol's feelings finally bubbling to the surface is SO! GOOD!!!! Because Alyssa had such a lasting impact on Shinae! It was a ghost haunting her, following her into high school, clinging to her even when she met Nol. That hurt she carried, that scar she still hides, reminded her over and over how easy it was to discard her, how easy it was to throw her away.

And Nol proved to her (what we know to be true for Alyssa) that it isn't true, that she isn't, in fact, so easy to discard, that she is someone special, that she means something.

To insert the flashback that reinforces why Shinae believed herself so easy to discard on the cusp of Shinae and Nol's feelings for each other finally bubbling to the surface is to reinforce exactly how these two fell for each other in the first place: in the shadows where no one was paying attention, they saw each other, and they cared.

And GOD it's so SO SO beautiful 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭💕