#maybe the real fears were the stars we falled along the way. or something like that (<- through tears)

[vm9pza]

Swansong

fanart for chapter 46 of @bladesmercy's The Fear of Falling Stars

[animasola86]

🦇 FANGS TO REMEMBER

m!vampires x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 3.6k

On your way back to the party, you come across a graveyard. Unbeknownst to you, you are trespassing onto someone's property, and they are not happy about it. Or are they?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Vampires! Noncon/dubcon! Threesome! Spitroasting! Biting! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 5 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is the continuation of OPTION 3/PART 4 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene:

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and after drinking a strange drink, you decide to get some fresh air, running into a werewolf who instantly decides to knot and breed you, and after that ordeal is done, you flee from him, and come across a graveyard...

ADDITIONAL WARNING: This one is very dark. It's more noncon than dubcon, so if you don't like the themes, you can skip it (imagine something dark happening) and read the next part here.

You look around, but there's only one way forward: through the graveyard. It's too dark to see anything else, no maze, no garden, no house, you can't even see the cabin anymore you just left. The night is eerily quiet, no critters, nothing. Even the wind seems to take a break for now.

Inhaling deeply, you hug your arms around your body and take a step through the large wrought-iron gates, looking left and right at the rows of crooked tomb stones. A strange mist wafts close to the ground, giving off an otherworldly glow. The moon is long gone it seems, the sky too cloudy to show any stars, but still you can see the various shapes around you.

You're not easily spooked, usually, but being alone in a cemetery at night makes your imagination run wild, wilder than it has been all evening. The slightest movement makes you flinch as you tread carefully along the path, goosebumps rippling over your exposed skin whenever something brushes against your bare legs. The shirt is soft and warm, but in the end not long enough after all, no matter how hard you tug at its hem.

A sudden shuffling sound makes your blood run cold and you freeze on the spot, your heart beating out of your chest, cold fear gripping your limbs. It came from behind one of the larger tomb stones, decorated with a small angel statue. You stare into the darkness, pressing your lips together to keep the noises from spilling past them. Probably just an animal. Your mind is surely playing tricks on you.

But when the same sound comes from right behind you, you whirl around with a shriek, stumbling back as you see a large black shadow blocking your view. You expect to fall onto your butt, but something keeps you from it, another shadow – and this one has hands. Hands that grip your arms, holding you tightly. Another scream rips from your throat as you thrash about, trying to get away, before another hand finds its way to your mouth, muffling all the noises you want to let out.

Your eyes are wide when the shadows around you form into the shapes of two big men, pale in the eerie light, tall and muscular, dressed surprisingly well for creatures that lurk in the dark.

“What do we have here?” the one with his hand on your mouth says, tilting his head, giving you a smile that makes his handsome face look almost diabolical. “A little rabbit? In our cemetery?”

“Did you get lost, little one?” the other man, the one behind you, whispers as he leans his head closer, rubbing his smooth cheek against yours. It's cold to the touch.

You stiffen, unable to do or say anything. Maybe you're still dreaming, or again. But the way these men grab you feels too real. They are strong. Intimidatingly so. You swallow hard, gasping when the one behind you gives you a deep sniff.

“Ugh, she reeks of dog,” he says with a drawl. “Had some fun with the beast, didn't you?”

Suddenly you feel a hand between your legs, a cold touch, coaxing a muffled yelp out of you as you feel probing fingers right against your warm crotch. “Huh, yeah, he got to her alright. Filled to the brim...” He pulls his fingers away and raises them to your face, and you can see the thick substance coating them. “Too bad, really, I was looking forward to ravaging that sweet cunt...”

You glare at him, both in shock and indignation. He pulls his hand from your mouth and shoves his soiled fingers between your lips. A muffled grunt of protest slips from your throat, but your attempts to get away are futile as the other man still holds your arms tightly. A bitter and slightly salty taste fills your mouth, but with how the man presses his digits onto your tongue you can't do anything but flick it around them, licking them clean.

“At least she seems quite obedient,” he muses with a menacing tone, watching you closely, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“We can still have some fun with her,” the man behind you says quietly, his nose nuzzling your neck. “He hasn't marked her yet. She's fair game.”

“Splendid,” the other replies with a laugh and pulls his fingers away with a wet popping sound. You quickly swallow the spit gathered on your tongue and lick your quivering lips. “So, little bunny, do you wanna try to run? I would die for a little hunt... if I wasn't already dead,” he adds with a reverberating laugh that makes you shiver deeply.

You just stare at him, your chest rising and falling faster. “I don't think she'll come far,” the man rubbing his hands over your arms retorts. “She seems weakened. The beast clearly got her good. Let's just enjoy her until her heart gives out, hm?”

You gasp at the implication, immediately silenced by a hand reaching out to grab your chin. “Fine. It is already enough to hear this beautiful beat,” the man in front of you whispers as he leans closer. “Are you scared, rabbit?”

Your eyes dart over his pale face, and when he bares his teeth and licks them slowly, you stare at his pointy canines. After having just met a real werewolf (or so you think, it's all so fuzzy in your head right now), you shouldn't be surprised to meet actual vampires, in a graveyard no less, pale and cold and strong, with sharp fangs and insatiable appetites, but your body still reacts as if you were indeed just a bunny cornered by two predators. A tiny whimper escapes your throat. “Please...”

“Hmm? Please what? Use your words, darling!” the man behind you snarls, rubbing his nose against your neck before you feel his lips on your pulse, nibbling teasingly.

“Please let me go...” you press out.

“Not going to happen, sweetheart,” he replies, his low voice muffled. “You came to us. Walked right onto our property. It's our right to do with you whatever we like...”

You squirm in his hold when he laps his tongue up your neck. The other man watches you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before he suddenly leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours. You gasp, staring at him. “You won't regret it, little one,” he breathes against you. His skin feels cold, but the close proximity makes your cheeks burn up badly. “We'll give you a good time, don't worry your pretty little head!”

And suddenly you are being lifted, nausea rolling over you as you find yourself somehow floating in the air. It's all a blur at this point. Footsteps crunch over gravel and dead leaves, thump against stone plates, old hinges screech as a door is being opened. The fresh air becomes stale and dusty, the light even darker. You move down a set of stairs, but you can't move, your head is swimming, your insides tensing up in a way that borders on painful. You can barely breathe, and you have no idea why.

Candle light flickers to life when the men take you through a large wooden door. Your eyes blink into focus slowly. You seem to be in some sort of mausoleum, old looking, corners full of cobwebs, aged statues lining the walls. In the middle of the round room, there are two stone coffins, both of them open, their heavy stone slabs pushed to the side. You swallow hard, trying to see this as a scene, a decorated room fit for an elaborate Halloween party.

But somehow you doubt this is part of it.

“Excuse the mess,” one of the men says as he walks to the coffins. “We didn't expect company tonight...”

He raises a hand – and as you're being set down on your feet again, you witness how the heavy slab moves seemingly on its own or by a strange unseen force, leaving you even more confused. Both coffins are closed now, and before you can question anything else, you are being draped over the short side of one of them, stomach pressed to the cold stone, arms and legs hanging off the edges. A groan escapes you.

“Let's clean her up first, I can't stand the stink of wolf,” one man says as he steps behind you, pushing your legs further apart. You feel a strange coldness rushing through your body, like water, but not really wet, a sensation that leaves you choking on your own spit. “There, better. Don't you feel better too, darling? No longer stuffed full of disgusting beast semen? Well, I don't want to kink shame or anything, maybe you are into being bred, but we do like our holes squeaky clean – for us to soil all over again.”

You squirm on the stone slab, your hands trying to find purchase on the smooth surface, your legs kicking helplessly, but before you can do anything, the other man steps in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. You find yourself face-to-face with his throbbing cock. They don't seem to waste any time, huh? He presses his thumb and finger into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You issue a groan of protest that is quickly muffled by his surprisingly warm member. You have no choice but to close your lips around it. (Even if you wanted to bite down on him, you couldn't, his hand is still holding your jaw open.)

“Good bunny, you know what to do, hm?” he tells you, slowly rolling his hips against you, his tip scraping along your gums, teasing at the back of your throat. Saliva pools on your tongue, and you feel the need to swallow it before it drips past your lips. When you do, he groans quietly. “Oh, yes, like that. Do that again.” Somehow his words seem to encourage you, and you swallow around him once more, straining your throat enough for tears to fill your eyes.

Behind you, you feel two cold hands rubbing up and down your thighs, gripping them, pulling them apart, before they slip up your rear and push the large shirt out of the way. “So I assume after your little werewolf ordeal, your poor little cunt is a little tired, wouldn't you agree?” he rasps teasingly. “Good thing you have another hole, huh, my sweet?”

You let out a series of muffled cries around the cock in your mouth when you feel probing fingers between your ass cheeks. “Mhmmnngh!” you croak out, thrashing on the stone slab, trying to get away. A sudden slap on your soft rear makes you howl, but ultimately stops your fidgeting. Your skin burns and throbs horribly. “Shh, relax, rabbit. You can take it. See?”

Before you can react, you feel a strange pressure against your sphincter, a teasing touch but unrelenting, and suddenly you have a finger in your ass. Your tight muscles clench around the thick digit, and you wriggle in your compromised position, almost gagging yourself on the dick between your lips when you push yourself against the man's groin and his cock deeper into your mouth. A jerk goes through your body, your hands fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything.

You don't feel in control of your limbs anymore, it's strange. You can feel everything, but you can't move, only rock back and forth on the coffin. The man behind you pushes his finger deeper, then pulls it out and replaces it with two. The stretch hurts, and you let out a muffled wail. Your noises seem to encourage him when he moves them in and out faster, deeper, a hard press against your protesting muscles.

Meanwhile the man holding your jaw increases the pace of his hips slamming against your face. His cock pushes deep, and you gag violently when he breaches your throat, your body convulsing, spit filling your mouth. He pulls back slightly, allows you to breathe and cough and swallow, but then repeats the motion, and you gag again, and the cycle continues. Your head is spinning by the fifth time he forced his length down your throat, and you feel too weak to protest anymore.

Not even when you notice that the man playing with your ass has added another finger and is plunging his hand hard against your rear, a dizzying rhythm, forceful, stretching you for whatever comes next. You can guess and it scares you. But there's nothing you can do as he suddenly pulls his fingers out with a wet pop and you feel his cockhead pressing against your slightly gaping hole. A deep grunt escapes him when he rocks his pelvis forward, sinking into your depths without mercy, carving his way through your impossible tightness.

Your muffled scream is overpowered by loud gurgling noises as the cock in your mouth pistons in and out fast, always pushing deep, bulging your neck, his crotch slapping into your face with each thrust. You are pushed and pulled, rocked back and forth, impaled front and back, cold hands holding your head up or digging into your hips as the two men use you for their pleasure, their grunts filling the space around you.

Despite their rough handling, you feel a strange heat growing inside you, and you realize that with every slam into your ass or snap into your throat, you are rubbed over the rough stone, and your clit quickly feels raw and swollen from the added stimulation. Moaning into the rapidly moving cock in your mouth, you focus on the good feelings, not the burning friction in your rear, not the rawness of your throat, the lack of air or the helplessness, just the bliss that tries to fight through the pain and discomfort.

But before you can even imagine any edge to fall over, they suddenly slow down, languid strokes that push deep until they stop altogether, one cock buried deep in your ass, the other pushed all the way down your throat as pubic hair tickles your nostrils. Your eyes roll back, your lungs burn, your body spasms fruitlessly. Groans echo in your ear.

“Let's turn her around,” one says.

“You wanna switch places too?” the other replies, almost a little breathlessly.

“Sure, I bet she doesn't mind a little ass to mouth action, huh, sugar?”

A loud slap against your bruised rear makes you gag violently, and as spit fills your mouth and tears stream down your face, you are being rotated on the cold stone slab, arms still hanging limply to the ground while your legs twitch as they're being pushed up and against your heaving chest, opening you up further. Cold air brushes over your exposed skin, and for a short moment they let go of you, cocks pull back, leaving trails of stickiness all over your face and crotch.

You are lightheaded, barely able to function, and that moment of reprieve is short-lived. You didn't even get the chance to swallow or breathe properly before a cock is being shoved back into your mouth. Hands curl around the back of your head, holding it up as the stiff and slimy length is pushed straight into your bruised throat. You can only croak out a muffled grunt before a heavy pair of balls slam against your nose.

“Tongue out,” the man above you orders, and you comply, hoping it'll be easier with your mouth wide open and your tongue extended to guide the throbbing cock in and out. “Good. Just like that. Look at that neck bulging. Ugh,” he continues, groaning as he rams deep into your throat and rests there, cutting off any air flow you may have had earlier. You squirm on the coffin, limbs twitching helplessly.

Before you drift off into unconsciousness, he pulls back and slaps your cheek. The pain drags you back immediately. “No fainting, rabbit, we need you awake for this.�� You cough hoarsely, spit and precum flying through the air. You're too weak to open your eyes, and it doesn't matter anyway. His hand is on your neck now, squeezing slightly. “Ahh, yes, listen to that frantic heartbeat,” he rasps, slowly slipping his cock back between your lips. “Are you afraid to choke, hm? Or does that turn you on?”

You gag when he presses into your throat slowly, your whole body jerking against the man on the other side, who's holding your legs open and pressed to your chest. You are allowed to cough and swallow before it happens all over again, again and again, and while one man fucks your throat with reckless abandon, the other rubs his cold hand down your mound, teasing at your swollen clit, parting your puffy labia, but then he dips his finger into your ass, completely ignoring your hungrily clenching cunt.

There's no further preparation, and a moment later he shoves his cock into your tight hole, making you wail against the dick in your throat. He lets go of your legs, causing them to flop about wildly with each thrust as he starts pounding into you hard and fast, then you feel his long fingers on your burrowed shirt. You barely register how it's ripped open, but you do feel those cold palms pressing onto your soft mounds, pebbling your skin, your nipples hardening instantly. The touch is almost soothing among all the other things happening to you.

It's a whirlwind of sensations, the lack of air and strain to your throat and jaw on one side, the rough friction and burning heat and hard pummeling on the other. You are moved back and forth on the stone surface, a limp body to be used. You don't know how long this is going on, but these guys seem to have incredible stamina. They just won't stop.

Whenever you feel as if you're slipping into the welcoming darkness, you are slapped and brought back, your cheeks burning and throbbing, but it's only one of many aches by now. You can't decide which is worse, the suffocating stretch when a cock buries deep into your throat, or the rough pummeling of sore muscles when the other cock rams into your tight ass. It's all a blur in the end.

The men are groaning and grunting, snapping their hips against you, uncaring of your discomforts. They're chasing their own orgasms while you remain teetering far away from any sort of release. The room is filled with loud squelching noises, gurgles and slurps, slapping of skin against skin, a soundscape that seems to be your only form of stimulation. Not even the cold hands on your breasts push you further to the edge, they are just there, holding you, groping hard, anchoring you as you are pushed back and forth.

At least they have a rhythm now, in and out in an alternating way, almost like a seesaw, in goes the one in your throat, out moves the one in your ass, and then it's the other way around. And somehow you find comfort in it as you lie there, held in place, unable to move, your eyelids fluttering, tears and snot drying on your sweat-slick skin.

It's then that you feel cold fingers brushing down your quivering belly, down, down, until they rub against your clit, and you arch your back, inhale that cock in your throat, jerk your hips against the one pounding into your ass, and you come, clenching down hard, stiffening, eyes rolling back, bliss exploding through the veils of darkness.

You feel like floating, leaning into the wave of pleasure that washes over you as you let it all happen. And as you do, the men's motions grow jerkier, rougher, faster, and they come too, almost at the same time. Cum shoots down your throat, and you'd expect to feel the same sensation in your ass, but the man there pulls out and empties himself all over your mound and stomach, all the way to your neck. The pressure in your throat loosens then, and similar spurts of wet warmth hit your face.

Raspy breaths make it past your soiled, swollen lips as you lie there with your eyes closed. Strong hands move you until you're lying fully on your back, legs outstretched, arms put at the sides of your body, head supported by the hard stone slab beneath you. Cold fingers trail your skin.

“I wish we could keep her,” you hear a quiet voice that barely makes it past the cotton in your head.

“I'm not risking another war with those savages just because of one puny human...” says a different voice. “We'll find another one.”

“Let's feed and get her back onto the path.”

You blink your eyes open, noticing the two men, the two vampires, standing over you, staring down at you from both sides of the coffin. Their teeth are bared, fangs glistening in the swaying candle light, and before you can do anything, they lean down, one goes straight for your neck, his pointy canines sinking deeply into your skin, and you feel it, despite your fucked-out state, you feel the cold crashing through your veins.

The same sensation happens between your legs, on one of your inner thighs as the other bites down into your soft flesh. You whimper soundlessly, throat hoarse and sore, body too weak to move against the assault. They suck your blood noisily, like the thirsty monsters they are, and you just let it happen, again, what other choice do you have? Your head is spinning as you feel the cold spread through your trembling limbs.

And the world fades...

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: The last part is here!

By the way, this is a nod towards my standalone Vampire oneshot Down the Rabbit Hole which also has dubcon elements and more than one vampire, but isn't as dark.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[fridgemissionmaster]

Belphegor x Reader: March Prompt/Day 30 Fairies

Prompt list/available prompt requests here, making a fic everyday of march

“How much looooongeeeerrrrr…”

“Not long!”

Belphie groaned trying to stifle a yawn. He just wanted to nap in the attic but you booted him out before he could get half way up the stairs. Sure, he could just go and nap somewhere else, but now you’ve gone and made him curious. So there he sat on the first step, trying his best to not fall asleep and crash into the floor, dealing with a broken nose would be too much of a pain. It was so very tempting to bug you and just drag you into a nap, surely whatever you were doing could wait for later, but if you didn’t go along with it the whole ordeal would just be a waste of energy.

“Can I come up now?”

“Just a minuet!”

…

It’d take more than that to get up the stairs and so he went.

“Eh, Wait! Close your eyes!”

He covered them with his hands. “Really? Well okay then-”

“Wait, never mind- just-” Though lights were suddenly out a soft glow still came out from behind the latticework in the door.

He chuckled as you scrambled out the door, taking his arm and dragging him in before he could ‘fall asleep’ on you.

Stars, not real ones, but… something like them.

The strings of lights were hung about the ceiling of the attic. It was like his planetarium but unlike that, this had the twinkling and flickering the distant lights have.

“I spotted some unique fairy lights at a second-hand shop that I thought you’d like.”

“…” He simply held your hand and squeezed it.

Well enough fun for the day. He flopped onto the bed, dragging you along. Before you could do or say a thing, he held you tight, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Thank you.”

Your warmth and a kinda starlit sky, perfect. He wondered if it’d be even better outside under real stars, on one hand it’d give him an excuse to snuggle into you more, on the other he didn’t need an excuse and why would he start caring about having one now?

You ran your fingers across his scalp, drawing a content hum out of him. You always knew just what he needed to drift off in the best ways.

“Hey.”

“hmm?”

“Huh, uh?”

Reluctantly he cracked an eye open, the pair of in a field under a sea of stars. Not that pretty though.

“Hey, get up.” His shoulder was shook and slowly he sat up.

“Yeah?”

“Where… where are we?”

“My dream.”

“Oh! Your… dream?”

“Uh huh.” He looked out to that endless sky.

“So… what are you doing here.”

“I… don’t know. Um, say… my head’s feeling a little fuzzy could you maybe… tell me your name?”

It was so easy, that neck fit right in his hand. The thing squirmed under him but his weight alone was enough to keep it pinned to the ground. He could feel it, how the world began to tremble in fear, to break apart and escape.

“No, no, no. That won’t do.” He was the master of dreams after all, he made sure that fiction stayed together. “So, you thought you could trick and take away my human?” Even as it snapped that doppelgänger still writhed under him, desperate to escape, letting the head roll away, to plunge and sink into the ground. “Taking their name? What a joke. Never come back.”

He cracked an eye open spotting the little fairies panicking above the pair of you. Immediately they flew away realizing the demon had awoken.

…

He yawned, it wasn’t worth going after them. Surely they learned how stupid of an idea it was to try stealing away a human from their demon.

Still though, fairies in fairy lights? They probably didn’t know what they wanted and just were waiting for something pretty to come along.

Silly things really, mistaking your dream for his. They must have been young ones to not notice how Belphie simply wandered into your’s, even taking the shape of the wrong person. Where were you in that field anyway? You were his, he’d easily find you in a few moments time. For now he could hold you a little tighter, you owed him for saving you so he’d demand extra cuddles later.

[kayura-sanada]

Telepathy, by Sunhawk (1x2 One-Shot) (Follow-Up After Foresight)

Read Foresight first to understand this!

Our new reality suits Duo. And the longer we live in it, the more he fills it out. The more it fills him in. Replacing those broken pieces that we lost during the war.

I don’t think even he realizes how… fractured he had become. Or maybe, remembering that he had gone to that poppy field to die… maybe he did.

I think, had our respective mentors not given us the parting gift of those vials of serum, Duo might eventually have become unhinged in time, lost in the layers and possibilities until he couldn’t have told reality from the visions he saw any more.

I think, if we had not found each other when we did, that he might not have survived that serum.

It took some time when that horrible, wonderful day was over, for me to ground him again. For him to begin the healing process. For us to find our way.

I could easily hate Dr. G in a way I had never hated my own mentor, for what he put Duo through, if I hadn’t seen for myself the alternative. Seen through Duo’s eyes the fate he saved us all from.

I fell for him when we were young and naïve, in the way that the young do. I’d been captured by his smile and his wit, his handsomeness and his skills. The burgeoning attraction had turned bitter when he’d rejected me, but I’d never quite been able to dispel the notion that there was… something more to him. Something I wasn’t understanding.

His smile had waned after that day, and his laughter had died. As hard as he tried to pretend that he was unaffected, it was painfully obvious it was a lie. And while I had been angry and confused, I had never quite been able to hate him… no matter what he came to think.

Through the war and after, I’d been consumed with the need to understand him. Understand the mixed and confusing signals he gave me.

When I followed him back to that poppy field, and I had bought the truth from him with my own abilities… I had been humbled by his sacrifice. The bitterness in my heart was eased with the feel of his own pain. The feel of his own resignation.

The anger salved with understanding.

I had thrown my hesitation to the wind and grabbed on to the memory of his dream with both hands.

But it was the feel of him afterwards, his body so strong, but his mind, his psyche, so fragile, that made me fall in love with him all over again. He’d needed me so much, to guard and guide while he found his way back to level ground. He’d been like a ghost living within his own body… though he hadn’t seen it. Had somehow been unaware of those times that I would find him just standing in the middle of a room, staring at nothing, utterly confused about just where his place in the world was.

Had you asked, he’d have only told you he was tired. A bit worn out. He didn’t understand how fractured his senses had been. Only looked to me to be his north star while he slowly learned to focus on what was real.

I thank God for the urge that had overtaken me that day. The decision… not to swallow the serum along with Duo.

I don’t think I could have brought him through without the gift Dr. J had given me. It’s funny, Duo called those enhanced abilities a curse, and before that day in the rain in the middle of a poppy field, I might well have agreed with him.

But I have blessed it every day since.

Yes, I screamed and cursed along with him that afternoon, because I’d felt his pain and had been so damn sure I’d killed him. Had held him to me, and rode out the changes ripping through his brain, fearing that I would lose him in mind, if not in body.

And all the while, he had held fast to the vision he’d had of us together, had held fast to me, his faith that I had made the right decision, unshakable.

Even when he was sure I’d killed us both… he believed in me. Was glad to end his life if it could be in my arms.

How could I not have forgiven him? How could I not have fallen for him even harder than I had the first time?

It was days before we made love the first time, though he’d slept in my arms from that moment on. It had been an easy thing, a gentle thing. Almost as though we’d been lovers for years.

And, I suppose, in some reality… we had.

Just as in another reality, we’d failed to stop the end of all things.

All his realities pulled at him in those first days and I had proved to be his anchor in the storm that followed. The one thing in all the infinite universes that he believed in.

A heady and frightening responsibility. One that I embraced with all my heart. With all my mind.

And when I am buried inside him as deep as we can manage, body and mind…

When I can answer his needs and his desires almost before he knows what his body wants…

When I can raise him to heights that make him forget his own name…

Reduce him to nothing but quivering, sobbing, panting need…

Somewhere deep inside him… he knows.

He knows… and he is not afraid of me. Is not afraid to open his body and his mind to me. Not afraid to lay himself bare and vulnerable before me, because there is nothing in him for me but the purest love and trust. There is not a dark thought that he can’t offer up… not a corner of his soul where he wouldn’t let me go.

When he is in my arms, lost to his passion, he belongs to me wholly.

Touch has always granted me glimpses into people’s thoughts; bursts of noise and input that is sometimes impossible to interpret. But the level of touch that we have achieved offers me so much more from him than that. Gives me feelings and pictures, memories and dreams. There isn’t a part of him I haven’t swum through. Isn’t a part of him he hasn’t unlocked to me.

Though he doesn’t know… somehow he knows.

And as our days pass together, and he comes closer to living completely in the here and now, I find that I don’t even need to touch him to feel his thoughts.

I’ve been so far within him, that I don’t think I can pull back any more. Not that I want to.

And sometimes… I think that somehow he can feel my own thoughts, as impossible as that is. As though our love-making has forged a bond that only grows stronger with time.

We wonder, sometimes, what the future will bring us. But we’re fine with waiting to find out.

[artemisdesari-blog]

This doesn't actually mean that Qui-Gon would have been the better master. The impression we're given in The Phantom Menace (and some of the Jedi Apprentice books even if they aren't canon anymore) is that Qui-Gon was something of a maverick and this was a problem because as good as he was at his job and as a Jedi there were times when that means he might not have handled things in a manner which necessarily fit with the way that the Jedi possibly should have handled them (gambling to free a slave child for example, or risking their one mode of transport in the same gambling venture, taking said slave child away from the safety of the Temple, regardless of his acceptance into the Order, and into a war zone could be considered a third).

The fandom argues Qui-Gon would have been better because he would have been more flexible, less rigid about Jedi doctrine and beliefs and more willing to tailor it to fit Anakin. I'm not sure that's necessarily true. Fandom comments so often on how Yoda told Anakin to release his anxiety over his visions of Padme's death, or how Obi-Wan wrote off Anakin's dreams about his mother as little more than anxiety and told him not to dwell on them. For one, Anakin never told Obi-Wan they were visions, just dreams. He never told Yoda everything about his relationship with Padme or that he had experienced such dreams coming true before. Neither Obi-Wan, nor Yoda could give him real and decent advise because Anakin hid information from them. Secondly, in The Phantom Menace Obi-Wan tells Qui-Gon he has a bad feeling about the negotiations with the Trade Federation. Qui-Gon writes this off entirely as Obi-Wan's anxieties and not a warning in the Force. He gives Anakin similar advice about not dwelling on his anxieties and fears later on. If anything, I think Qui-Gon would have gone harder on the ignoring visions and giving emotions up to the Force. He would have pushed harder for Anakin to find and lean into that Jedi serenity.

Maybe he would have protected Anakin better from Palpatine, maybe he wouldn't. By all the canon narrative we have, right up until the final months of the war, the Jedi actually liked Palpatine and were entirely fooled by his benevolent benefactor act in that he simply wanted the best for Anakin because of his role in saving Naboo. If anything, Qui-Gon's insistence in taking Anakin along (which admittedly helped to save the day) is what put Anakin in Palpatine's path in the first place. Make of that what you will.

My point it. Anakin's fall into becoming Vader does not lie entirely with the Jedi, or with Obi-Wan, and couldn't necessarily have been prevented if his master had been Qui-Gon either. Could the Jedi as an organisation done some things better? Sure. Could they have tried to recognise the damage so much upheaval in such a short period of time might have done to Anakin's psyche? Yes. Is it reasonable to assume a child would react that intensely to the death of someone they've only know for a couple of weeks at most (if we assume travel takes more than an hour or two since travel times are notoriously weird in Star Wars)? No, it isn't, especially when we don't know how much they were actually told about Anakin's origins. Would Qui-Gon have necessarily paid more attention to Anakin's 'visions'? Given his track record with listening to Obi-Wan, it's doubtful.

But that's the point, isn't it? We'll never know. Without the damage done by Qui-Gon's death who knows where Anakin would have ended up? It doesn't mean that Qui-Gon would have been the better teacher, it just means that he would have had one less hurdle to overcome in his journey towards being a Jedi.

Hot take: Qui-Gon's survival would have contributed to keeping Anakin stable and not prone to attachment.

This is not because Qui-Gon would have been a better master than Obi-Wan, but because Qui-Gon's immediate death after playing such a crucial role in Anakin's life contributed majorly to his traumas regarding the loss of people important to him, which was a massive element of his later attachment issues.

Anakin left his mom and immediately experienced the death of the new adult in his life. Not just another separation, but full on death. The books even mention that he used to go sleep in front of Obi-Wan's door or on the floor next to Obi-Wan's bed (which Obi-Wan was unaware of until he woke up) because he was so scared that Someone Else Was Going To Leave Him.

I think it's understandable for the Jedi to underestimate how much Qui-Gon's death affected Anakin, because they did only know each other for like. Three days. And the Jedi probably didn't know just how much Qui-Gon impacted Anakin's life in a personal sense, rather than as just Some Distant Official.

And in the subsequent fallout of Anakin's Many Traumas, he fixated on two people:

Obi-Wan, an older brother slash father figure that was an authority on a personal level, and around him constantly, and basically took the Mom role that Shmi had had.

Palpatine, and elderly grandfather figure that was not a personal authority (telling him when to go to bed, what to eat, etc), that he only saw occasionally and would indulge him, and basically took on the Qui-Gon role.

Like there's this major crack in Anakin's foundation that needed patching up, and because it wasn't competently filled---because Obi-Wan was also grieving and cracked open, and Palpatine was malicious---we end up with a guy who has a whole FUCKTON of attachment issues.

I feel like Qui-Gon's death and its impact on Anakin, not just Obi-Wan, tends to get undersold by fandom at large.

[aaazithro2]

LAYERS

(Quite a long read)

The "sudden heartbreak" demanded a sense of contemplation and reflection of sorts.

I was perfectly fine just being single. I've been single for a few years until that fateful encounter when I met her. It didn't work out. Now I'm hurting in places. Why? Why was it, surprisingly, this painful?

(Look, judgements are fine and welcome. You can argue and say, "But it was only for such a brief time..." Well yes, but I still can't deny and discount the fact that it hurt. The point as to why, we'll get to that as you read along.)

For the past weeks, I've been analyzing my emotions and thoughts about it. Let's just say that, aside from finding her amazing, I got attached to the desired outcome of having a "happy life/relationship" with her. Everything with her felt great. We had chemistry, at least that's what I felt. She made me really happy. It was hard not to fall for her. Because, you know what, there were so many things she was ticking off the list of my "ideal person."

She became an oasis for me. I've been single for about 2 years when we met. Being single for years then suddenly getting affection may also explain why everything she did felt sweeter. Well but honestly, she's really sweet. That's one of the things I really like about her. (Damn, it's over but there's things I still like about her. Do you understand how much I really liked her? Ughhh...)

That's why there are layers of hurt. The happiness she brought was something I wanted to keep and nurture. I thought I'd finally get to have my person. I thought that maybe after all the waiting, my person was actually her all along.

But no, she wasn't my person. Her heart was locked somewhere else. She couldn't see me with sparkly eyes the way I did her. I didn't know what I truly meant to her. (Or maybe I do know, I just didn't want to face that I was a capital "R" to her. Haha! Nevermind, go figure that out.)

Love, the real kind, should be fierce but peaceful. I'm too old to risk my heart solving puzzles figuring out whether another person can love me back. I always have this mantra, "If you don't love me, don't." And as the song goes, we can't make people love us if they don't.

Things between us started to become unclear to me. It felt like my love will be only be taken for granted. Although painful, somehow it became much easier to bear. I may be wrong, I don't know. There's just so much confusion and uncertainty (and too little clarity) that it's the only conclusion I can arrive to. The initial excitement, happiness, and the hopes morphed into fear. I was afraid of breaking my heart just to unravel her truth.

Another more personal realization is that I may have been lying to myself on how I feel about being single. I always say, "Being single is fine." In the dating app, I even just ticked "Looking for friends" and "Not Sure Yet."

Am I really looking for "just friends?" Am I really "not sure?" I.... I guess it's difficult to admit that I am looking for more than that. I do want to have a deep connection and a special someone. I've read it somewhere that we judge ourselves for wanting a partner/relationship because it's seen as a form of weakness. The acceptable notion is that we should be fine with independency. But.... if I were to be deeply honest with myself, it's clear now what I truly want.

I need to be more brave with this heart's true wishes. But at the same time, I need to appreciate this (extended) season of singularity.

I don't know when it will end or if it will ever end, this season of singleness. But one thing's for sure. If ever love finds me, I'm certain that I can give my stars, my moons, my suns, my universe, my entire heart. Whoever that person, my person, is - I'm ready. I hope and pray you are too. 🩷

[blzzrdstryr]

Alone together

Yandere!Dainsleif x gn!reader

Wordcount: 2011

CW: Yandere themes, stalking, possessive behavior, PTSD

Khaenri’ah burns. Skies turn red, as tall pillars of smoke arise in the place of ruined towers. People cry and beg and scream.

“Ah, [First] , you came to help” Lisa greets you, waking up from her half-slumbering state: “Welcome, welcome. I already made some tea for you, just let me”. The librarian stretches and yawns akin to a cat, after she stands up from the counter, flashing you one of her charming smiles afterwards: “Go and fetch it. We will work after the tea”.

Something in her voice leaves no room for argument, so you sit at the offered table, eyes immediately shifting to the nearby window, mostly out of habit. Skies are blue and clear, buildings are whole and steady, people are laughing and cheering outside. It’s a sight that brings you heartache and comfort at the same time - no one should be subjected to what you had to live through, whether they worship the seven or not.

“And here it is”, the witch says, holding a tray with a steaming teapot, cups and a plate of cupcakes resting on top of it. The next fifteen minutes are spent drinking and carelessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular: Lisa is an excellent company, adept at maintaining the conversation interesting and atmosphere comfortable, her wide array of knowledge and keen intellect keeping you on your toes throughout the exchange despite the advantage of experience you happen to possess.

The brief tea party is then followed by the shared work of deciphering ancient documents, the librarian sometimes turns to you asking for the meaning of one word or another - most of the texts are written in Khaenri’ahn or archaic forms of the modern languages.

She doesn’t pry why you happen to possess such intrinsic knowledge on the long dead language, nor does she ask anything about your star-shaped pupils - she must have seen the descendants of your compatriots, then. You know there live at least two - one with tan skin and a warm smile that never reaches his cold eyes and a blonde youth with the powers of khemia rolling under his palms. There’s no courage to approach them.

You in turn share Khaenri’ah’s greatest legacy - knowledge and science that helped your nation to outpace the deities and turn them against you. It’s a nice feeling - making sure that the thing your people cherished the most will not be forgotten, even if it’s given to archon worshippers. Five centuries ago the thought of educating Teyvatians would be laughable to you - there’s no use in it, they will continue to believe in their gods - you would dismiss it, but now nationless you have no choice but to do it - it’s the only way to keep the products of your people alive. To keep the memory of your people alive.

Khaenri’ah burns. You run across the collapsing city, eyes growing wider as you see people slowly morphing into something. It’s bestial and feral, primitive. Your breath hitches, you want to scream.

“[First]?”, it’s Lisa again, she lightly taps your shoulder, a hint of concern creeps into her voice

“Ah? Everything is fine, I just zoned off” you reply, too quickly and too strained to be believable. Who could have known that even after five hundred years the flashbacks of what happened on that day will still haunt you? They trail your thoughts like determined hounds, sneaking up on you in the most inopportune times. One moment you are talking to someone, the second you relive the fall of Khaenri’ah. The memory feels too real to be a fantasy, leaving your thoughts messy, anxious and disordered, as you shake and try to calm yourself.

“Are you sure?”, she stands up from her seat and makes a couple of quick steps to you, taking a good look at your face: you must look horrible, you think, those episodes always leave you panting and on the verge of panic.

“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, there’s no use in haste, it’s not like our documents will run away”, Lisa continues, massaging circles into your shoulder - her hand is warm and comforting, grounding. You want to thank her for this - the understanding tone and the way she caresses you right now, helping you to keep the link with reality, but the words get stuck in your throat - it’s too much and too scary, to admit what just has happened not only to her, but to yourself too.

“Yes”, you finally force out of yourself, nodding along the way: “it would be for the better”. Your voice is still too tense and strained, filled with the grief for the people and places long past, but Lisa, to your relief, doesn’t point out any of it. You quickly gather your belongings and leave the library, almost forgetting to bid a farewell to the witch as you exit.

The sun begins to set as you make your way to the rented house, it’s small and nondescript, a complete opposite of the one you had in Liyue. You used to work as a scholar in the harbor before He found you again - you fled your spacious and cozy apartments in less than a day, leaving almost all of your possessions behind.

The thoughts of what had happened still buzz in your mind - you want to scream and cry, you want to vent to someone, but the words you will utter will be in pure khaenri’ahn they won’t understand you.

You think of finally approaching that star-eyed cavalry captain, Kaeya, maybe he saw what you witnessed too. You think of Albedo, who carries the same energy all khaenri’ahn constructs do. You want to ask him about his creator, you want to talk with him about Khemia. You think of Barbatos who wears the form of the cheerful bard, you want to accuse and scream and hit him.

You do nothing as the power leaves your body the same second - it’s scary, so scary to verbalize that, to talk and share and relive, and approaching any of those three means doing exactly so.

You stay inside instead, calming your beating heart and kicking out intrusive thoughts, and only when your pulse returns to the norm you allow yourself to finally stand up. The world is shaky and unreliable, but some things stay the same. Your room for example - you have a habit of leaving things in specific places, as a way to keep you grounded. There’s a comfort in familiarity - the one you desperately need.

Your eyes shift from one object to the other, until they stumble across something that sends your heart racing again. The cup you use is shifted by a couple of inches, facing you by the opposite side, there’s a flower and a note lying beside it. The words are in khaenri’ahn, the handwriting is familiar too.

Khaenri’ah burns. Your lungs do too from the sheer overexertion and fatigue, but you keep pushing further and further - you can’t give up yet, not when He needs you. A name forms on your lips.

Thousand of thoughts form in your mind, they’re panicked, fast and disjointed - flee again, cut and dye your hair, change the name too - you can start over in Inazuma again, it’s a closed country, so if you will manage to get in, it will be harder for him to track you again.

Who are you kidding?

Unlike you, he has a core of steel, an unwavering determination to settle things his way or die trying - be it opposing Celestia or gaining you. It was always like that, with the Twilight sword being stubborn to a fault - he never budged or surrendered, not when Khaenri’ah was still proudly standing, and not now, when there’s nothing but the charred remains of your homeland.

You met him when you got accepted into the Royal order, where a Konungr paired you with Him. The twilight sword was unrelenting in his pursuits even then, a trait that you both admired and feared in equal volume. The collapse of your nation only worsened this quality - if back then he was striving to supervise and oversee everything, then the tragedy exacerbated his controlling tendencies even further.

You were travelling together for the first fifty years after the fall, both affected by the same curse, as he started getting possessive. It began in innocuous things: asking where you were, what you were doing, you didn’t pay much attention back then, celestial wrath still fresh in your memory - he was just cautious you told yourself, it’s a safety measure.

But then these safety measures grew from simply inquiring about your day to accompanying you almost everywhere, and then it all culminated in Him locking you up, to keep you away from leaving.

You escaped then, and avoided him ever since, departing your residence the second you caught the wind of his possible proximity. Years turned into decades that later morphed into centuries, and you began to grow lax - he was getting closer and closer to you with each turn. The first time you had a suspicion of him being near you packed your things the same second and spent countless days traversing the land by hidden passageways, careful not to leave any traces, and now, now you still sit in your house, despite having evidence of him knowing where you are.

Maybe you grew tired of the cat and mouse game, maybe you just accepted that your recapture is inevitable and all your little escapes do nothing, but set it off for a couple of months, or maybe you’re just that lonely. It doesn’t matter, really, as you make no attempt to do anything - it’s useless, he already knows your location.

Khaenri’ah burns. You cry and you hate yourself - for weakness, for helplessness, for still being alive and sane. He stays near you as a silent shadow, his blue eyes shifting from your crying face to the wreckage of the city. There are no words shared between you that day - you’re crushed and empty, yet bare and aching at the same time.

“Dainsleif”, you greet him, once you hear the squeak of the opening door. He doesn’t look that different from five hundred years ago, but now his eyes are both more tired and alive with fervent light.

“[First]”, he simply replies, your name rolling off his tongue like a prayer - there’s adoration and worship in his tone. He almost falls to his knees, as he takes your hands in his, capturing them in a steel trap.

“[First], I finally have you, [first]”, he murmurs, bringing your palm to his face. You don’t resist him, knowing it’s futile. His skin feels just like all those years ago - rough and dry, weathered down by the demanding lifestyle he leads. He gives a shy peck to your inner wrist, blue eyes intently watching you as he does so.

“Long time no see, Dain”, you start, trying to diffuse the tension in the air, as he grabs you by the chin and forces you into a kiss. He kisses with the desperation of a dying person, one of his hands firmly holding your head, the other starts to explore your body. It feels obscene. You are lightheaded, when he finally parts and hugs you again, still chanting “[First]” over and over again.

You allow him this liberty too, feeling a prick of pity in your heart. You know what it is - to be the sole survivor, too see your own people crumble and fall and transform. You know that he returns to that place again and again, reliving the same moment against his will. You know that he gasps and shivers when the memories get too real and overwhelming.

You both are children of the fallen nation, and there's no person in the world who could understand you better than he does. Maybe, you shouldn't have run, you think, listening to Dainsleif speak in Khaenri’ahn. There's a chain of connection between you two, it's unbreakable, forged in shared losses, tears and pain.

Khaenri’ah burns. It burns in both of you.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust, pt.3

Part one // Part two  

Summary: Meeting with his Sun Summoner again, the Darkling has a choice to make. 

Warnings: angst, fluff

========================

It’s been a long time since Y/N saw her Darkling. Some would say time passes quickly, but it dragged on so painfully slow that every second marked her with more doubt. Aleksander was her safe haven, the one she’d run to whenever she wanted to lift the weight off her shoulders but that wasn’t an option anymore.

She had reunited with Mal, but he couldn’t understand. If anything, he seemed cross with her for being a Grisha, for staying in Little palace for so long. He wasn’t shy to state how disgusted he is with who she became, to insult the kefta she wore when they first saw each other.

“The way you talk, the way you walk, even the way you look! I can hardly look at you, he’s all over you.”

She doesn’t wear that kefta anymore, the black contrasting the golden embroidery representing the light she was meant to be. A part of her ached for Aleksander, while the other part of her resented him. He made her love him, but how can she love what was built on a lie?

Somber, she shivered in the cold. Her arms wrapped around her knees which were tucked close to her chest and under her chin. The majestic stag Mal had taken her to find, the one she had a chance to kill but refused to, was now gone. She made sure it would retreat deeper into the woods after laying her hand on him.

None of it was important now when her troubled mind returned to the beginning.

She looked at him with a bashful smile, a flush creeping across her cheeks. He didn’t notice her yet, buttoning his shirt slowly while she began to sweat, unsure about coming into his room uninvited now. Clearing her throat, she sat at the foot of his bed, noticing him tense up before turning to her.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you”, she bites her lower lip, her voice shaky but not nearly as much as her heart.

A breathless chuckle passes his lips, his eyes instantly light up as he comes closer, a few buttons remaining unbuttoned at the top. It gave her a perfect view of his chest and she couldn’t help but realize this is the most skin she had seen on him since they met. A kefta left everything up to ones imagination and it may have served as a neat way to hide from the others, but she was grateful he didn’t wear one now.

“I’m merely surprised to find you so boldly perched on my bed”, Aleksander raises his eyebrows, amused as he comes closer.

Shrugging, she looks up at him through her thick eyelashes, picture perfect innocence etched in her angelic smile. “You seemed tense today”, she pushes herself further back on his bed, far enough to rest her back against the headboard.

Pursing his lips, he knits his eyebrows together, “Did I now?”

Nodding, she taps her thighs, “I’ll help you unwind. Come on.”

“How?” Aleksander’s lips part as she rolls her eyes playfully.

"Here! Lay down in my lap." She taps her lap two times exactly, seemingly unaware of Aleksander's eyebrows furrowing.

"Excuse me?"

Tilting her head to the right, she gave him a pointed look. “Lay down in my lap so I can run my fingers through your hair.”

“Can I –“, Aleksander tries, but she’s quicker.

“Not negotiable.”

With a sigh, Aleksander clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he was allowing her to speak to him in such a manner, much less why he was crawling over the bed to rest his head on her thighs. Yet he found himself on his back, his head securely in her lap and his gaze is on her and the self-satisfied smirk on her lips that had made his heart flutter.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she watched him intently. It was hard to accept just how handsome he is, how unique the black skies reflecting in his eyes are. She’d see an occasional star when he’d look at her, a twinkle in the darkness she peered into fearlessly day in and day out.

“Isn’t it funny how I can’t even remember the first time I heard your name?” She spoke softly, her thumb grazing his forehead. “You’d think we’d remember something that will make such a huge difference in your life.”

Aleksander licks his lips, “What matters is you’re here. Wherever you go in life, remember this moment, Sunshine”, he smiles in disbelief, “When you had a general putty in your hands for a night.”

She couldn’t help but grin, “I’m not leaving you. Not now”, leaning in, she whispers, “Not ever.”

Leaving a kiss upon his forehead, Y/N started to pull away.

“Wait”, he blurted out. “Don’t pull away. Not yet.”

“I won’t”, she beams at him, “We have all night.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head. In the end, she lied too. How can a man capable of doing such terrible things be so gentle with her? Were they cursed from the start?

That’s when she felt it once more – her airway closed, her eyes widened. She gasps for air in panic, clutching her throat when she feels the pressure in her chest become too much. She wanted to call for Mal who left to pee a little while ago, but she couldn’t.

And then it stopped.

Gasping, she falls to her hands and knees, drawing in quick, shallow breath of cold air that soothes the burning sensation in her lungs.

“Are you alright?”

The familiarity of his voice brought shivers down her spine, her eyes widening as she turns around so quickly she nearly topples to her side.

“I didn’t realize they’d be so harsh, I’ll have to reprimand them later.” Aleksander frowns at his heartrenders, nodding at them to leave them alone.

She shot him a cold look, "Did you kill him?"

Looking away, Aleksander lets out a heavy sigh.

Her voice thickens, choked with emotion, "Tell me the truth for once in your life."

"I love you", he snaps, "That’s a truth!"

Too often had Y/N spoke of love with Aleksander before, too often had she given pieces of herself away by telling him how she feels, but he never uttered the words before. She wondered if he was capable of loving her, if his admission of love was just a way to control her.

She stands, her heart beating so loudly she feared he could hear it too. Never before had the Darkling bared his soul as he did now, but taking him on his word would be unwise. And she wanted to believe him, saints, she wanted to believe every single word, but he’s supposed to be the bad guy and he wasn’t showing signs of remorse.

"Did it ever occur to you that you're hurting me too?" His voice cracks as she averts her gaze, the sight of him breaking her heart.

His eyes are brimming with tears, his hand reached out for her to take and for the first time since they’ve met, Y/N notices his fingers are shaking and not with the cold.

"With everything to win, the only thing I lose is you. How is that fair?" He uttered, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.

She turned her gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger gripping her in equal measure.

He comes before her, his lower lip trembling, "I would not be unkind to you", Aleksander persists. Cupping her face, thumb stroking her jaw, "I would never hurt you." He caressed her cheek, running his fingers down her vulnerable throat.

Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head slightly in order to resist the urge to look back at him or allow herself to quiver under his touch. Straightening her back, she looks him straight in the eye, refusing to break apart.

“But you did hurt me. I don’t even know who you are”, her voice is dark and low.

He leans down, his forehead resting on hers, “But you know me. All of me. You know the real Aleksander…Aleksander Morozova.”

Scoffing, she pulls away, “Wonderful!” Rubbing her forehead where she could still feel him, she turns to him with an incredulous look, “You lied about your name too!”

“Only my last name”, he states and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Because that makes it so much better.”

Sighing, Aleksander reaches for her hand and this time, Y/N doesn’t recoil from his touch and he can’t help but smile, encouraged to lightly tug, bringing her closer.

“Please come back with me. I know what it feels to be alone, to always feel empty on the inside. It's the only thing I know when I'm without you.” His free hand rests on her hip, bringing unexpected warmth along with it.

Y/N understood what he meant, being without him had ravished her. With him she was sunshine, the Sun summoner and a light in the darkness, but without him? She learned even the Sun can be eclipsed.

“Will you help me destroy the fold?” She asks, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. She loved the way he watched her with a longing smile and an oddly gentle look in his eye.

“It’s not that simple”, Aleksander replies, noticing her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, tortured as she nibbles on it. He wanted to do that so badly, to bruise her lips as they molded with his.

It felt like going through the motions as he spoke, her mind focusing on all he’s done. He killed people, he did it for her too. Is that his idea of commitment? Is killing in someone’s name a way to say I love you in his world?

“It is”, she swallows thickly. She trembles and shivers, then looks at him with pleading eyes. “You’ll either help be destroy the fold and the danger it holds or you’ll lose me. Is that what you want?”

Releasing her hand, his lips part. Aleksander takes a step back, his eyes narrowing. "They say I'm a traitor. They call me the black heretic. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do to protect the Grisha from certain doom.” His voice is heavy, laced with anger and frustration Y/N had carried as well.

For a long time, she wondered if she was just the same as him, if he had dimmed her light, but she wasn’t. Never once had he looked into the mirror of his own soul and asked what different choices he could make, not for his own sake, but for the sake of others. In his story, he’s not the bad guy and if she could deny who she is, maybe he wouldn’t be a villain in hers either. But she can’t.  

“Aleksander, please”, her hand rests on his left cheek, cold to the touch unlike the warmth he was used from her. “We will protect them together. The fold had killed plenty of Grisha for us to react too.”

His jaw clenches, “But their death can mean something. I made a necessary sacrifice, so if that makes me evil, fine!” His nostrils flare as he pulls her hand off his face, “Make me your villain."

Swallowing thickly, she turns away from him. “You’ll have to kill me if that’s your plan. Because I will destroy that fold, with or without you there to hold my hand.”

Nodding, he comes closer. His breath on the back of her neck is enough to make her hold hers, awaiting for his next move. She waits, giving him a fair shot now because he’ll never be given another one. But nothing happens. There’s no darkness engulfing her, he had not cut her in half.

When she turns around, this time he’s the one that’s gone. Covering her mouth to stifle a heart-wrenching sob, Y/N’s tears flood her eyes, falling like waterfalls.

Aleksander had walked away, his loyal Grisha following after.

“You did the right thing. She was holding you back”, Ivan states, further fanning the flames of Aleksander’s wrath.

Too quickly did Ivan find himself pinned to a tree with a hand wrapped around his neck tightly enough for his vision to blur, hearing his general’s words.

“You will never know the depth of what I just lost.”

PART 4

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 4)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 5.3k

warnings: smut!!, overstimulation, oral f receiving, lots of dirty talk and begging, very very subtle d/s dynamics if you squint, slight angst??, awkwardness, pining 

Bucky’s heart was racing as he tried to prepare himself for what was coming.  It was never easy to watch that scene of you being fucked by somebody else— even if it wasn’t real, and even if it was technically your character that was getting fucked— but it was going to be an entirely new struggle with you a foot away, laying next to him on your bed.

“We only did two takes of this,” you remembered, talking over the conversation on-screen.  The smash cut to you being shoved against a wall, lips fighting for dominance in a searing kiss, made you chuckle.  “This we had to do, like, a million takes.”

Bucky’s hand tightened into a fist at the idea of you kissing this guy over and over.  “I’m sure he was real broken up about that,” he grumbled sardonically.

“No, I promise he actually was,” you defended, “I was terrible.  I kept laughing and ruining it, and it meant we had to keep starting over.”

That relieved some of his jealousy, hopeful that laughing meant you weren’t attracted to your co-star or turned on by filming a love scene.  He still felt his heart clench as he watched your shirt get pushed up and two hands (both flesh, like he was showing off or something) grab at your breasts.  Sooner than he was prepared for it, you were being thrown down onto the bed and moaning loudly, nails digging into his back as he stared down at you.

“I can’t even imagine how many guys have gotten off to this scene,” you shuddered.

I can’t believe I’m one of them, Bucky thought as he swallowed dryly.  “What about the guys on set?” he wondered aloud.  “Do they ever, you know, get…” he whistled and pointed his finger up straight, hoping it was enough to get the idea across.

You laughed, playfully shoving him on the shoulder.  “They have tape for that, to keep everything down in case they get a little too into it.”

Glancing to the screen, he wondered how this guy didn’t pop the tape right off.

“Have you ever…?” Bucky pressed, heart rate picking up as he pushed the boundaries a little bit.

“Have I ever… been turned on, while filming?” you finished his question.  “No,” you scoffed, sounding bemused and taking another swig of your drink.

“Why not?”

“I guess they’re just not my type,” you shrugged.

“Movie stars aren’t your type?” Bucky joked, but your answer was completely serious.

“Nope.”

He nodded slowly as he contemplated that, taking a moment to build up the courage to ask his next question.  “What is your type?”

You smirked a little, and he wasn’t sure at all what it meant aside from the fact that he was done for.  Whatever you were gonna say was sure to break his heart.  “Tall, dark, not famous…”

He could so picture you picking up fans at bars; you must have no trouble at all finding guys to mess around with.  Yep, totally heartbreaking.

“Good driver…” you continued, voice a little quieter and a little deeper.

Bucky cleared his throat anxiously.  “I guess that rules me out.”

“What?  You’re great; haven’t even blown any red lights or made illegal U-turns.”

“I mean, good drivers don’t eavesdrop on their passengers,” he explained, “especially when they’re with tall, dark, not-famous friends of theirs in the back.”

You laughed a little, half-lidded eyes looking him up and down.  He felt very exposed under your gaze.  “I didn’t mind,” you shrugged.

Oh god, oh fuck, Bucky’s mind raced, we’re talking about it.  All this time and we’re finally talking about it.  What the fuck do I say?  “I still shouldn’t have—” he began.

“I wanted you to,” you interrupted firmly.

“You… wanted me to look?”

“Wanted you to do a lot more than that,” you admitted.

He looked back at you with wide eyes, entirely devoid of thoughts or words or ideas on what to do in the moment.  Sure, it was pretty heavy flirting, but it wasn’t necessarily an invitation.  You said wanted, past tense, it didn’t mean you wanted him now.  Maybe you were just letting him know he missed his chance.  If he did the wrong thing and upset you, he’d never forgive himself.

“Seemed like you were pretty satisfied with what he was doing,” he remembered, hearing the waver in his voice and cringing.

“Only cause I was thinking about you,” you grinned.  “I do that a lot, actually.  I’m just usually alone when I do it…”

He shivered as you shifted onto your side and leaned towards him, reaching across his body to set your beer down on the bedside table next to him; with you so close, he feared his heart would beat out of his chest.  With the beer set aside, all you had to do was let your hand pull back to rest on his chest, and lift your leg up to rest on his, and you were straddling his side like it was the most simple, casual thing in the world.

But it wasn’t.  It was the most insane thing that had ever happened to him.  He looked down at you and blinked a few times, confident the hallucation would end but nope, he could feel the warmth of you radiating through his clothes, threatening to burn him alive.

“I’m usually in this bed, right here,” you continued slowly, and he had trouble keeping track of what you were saying with your finger trailing along his chest through his shirt, “warm under the covers, wearing a lot less than this, knowing you’re just a few rooms away and wishing you would come in here and touch me…”

"I’m here now,” he replied, just louder than a whisper.  “Can I touch you?" 

“Take off the gloves,” you requested softly.  He was quick with the right one, but hesitated before removing the left— the moment of truth.  Your breath hitched as the light caught the golden and black metal, and he winced.

“That bad?”

“No, no,” you denied, “it’s… sort of beautiful, actually.”

With you wrapped around his left side, it was natural for his right hand to move up your thigh.  His left hand brushing against your face seemed to surprise you, though.

"I'm sorry, is it cold?" he asked gently.

"A little," you giggled, "but I don't mind."

Demonstrating how little you minded, in fact, you slowly kissed the tips of his bionic fingers, getting more and more adventurous until you were suddenly slipping two of them into your mouth and down past your throat.

"Fuck," he shivered, silently thanking whatever gods were out there that technology made him capable of feeling the wet warmth of your mouth on his fingers.

"Just skin everywhere else, right?" you smirked.  "It's not a Swiss army knife down there?"

"Nope," he laughed, "flesh an' blood."

The blood aspect was especially salient as his cock filled so fast he thought he might pass out.  Your hand slipped down and started to ghost over the front of his jeans, and he fought every instinct to keep from bucking up into your hand.  You started to go for his belt but he sat up a bit.

“Wait,” he requested, clutching your shoulders a little; as soon as you looked back at him, he pulled you into a kiss, probably a little too aggressively but he was too pent up to care.  After all this waiting, he actually had to hold himself back a bit compared to how he really wanted to kiss you.  He moved his lips against yours slowly but with determination— and it was you, in the end, that started to slide your tongue along his lips until he opened them, giving him a chance to taste your mouth like he’d dreamed of for so long.  Past the beer was the unmistakable flavor of you, and he was instantly addicted to it.  His arms wrapped around you and held you close, one hand tangling in your hair a bit as you started to lean into his palm.  Your hands clutched at his shirt, the warmth of your touch managing to permeate through to his skin, and he heard the softest moan from you right against his lips.  It was perfection, and he would’ve been happy to stay like that forever if it weren’t for you sitting up to straddle him.  He couldn’t decide if it was the sight of you on top of him, or the weight of your body on his, or the feeling of your thighs clenching a bit just above his throbbing cock— it was probably all three, but he suddenly became so needy for you that his head was spinning.

Still absorbed in the kiss, he reached down and gently pulled at the knot holding your robe shut, letting it fall open before pushing it off your shoulders slowly.  You smiled against his lips and sat up, taking it off the rest of the way to reveal your entire nudity underneath.  You’d think that he would’ve wished to be naked with you, and that certainly would’ve made a few of his ideas a lot easier to act upon, but something about your bare body compared to his covered one— something about your mound grinding on his jeans like that— drove him fucking wild.

“God, baby,” he praised with a purr, running his hands all over whatever he could reach.  A movie could never do a body like this justice.  It deserved to be appreciated and worshipped in person, which was exactly what he planned to do.

“Your turn,” you giggled as you leaned down, unbuttoning his shirt hastily.  He was proud of the way you bit down on your lip as his skin was exposed, though he was also a bit embarrassed to reveal he was wearing his dog tags underneath.  “A little more metal under here than I was expecting,” you smirked, trailing an errant finger over the silver chain.  “There’s always more to you than meets the eye… what other secrets are you hiding, hm?”

Right now, he wanted you to have all his secrets.  He wanted to give you everything.  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted first.

“I don’t think that’s that much of a secret,” you smirked as you finished the last button. 

He sat up to help you discard the shirt, shivering as your touch trailed over his chest, his abs; then his scars, and the rest of the arm.  He used it to pull you down by your neck for another kiss, testing the waters by getting a touch rougher and letting more of his desperation seep through.  You responded very well, your moans gliding from your tongue onto his as your hips started to rock on top of his.  “Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he gently mocked, smiling as he started to kiss down your neck and onto your shoulder.  “Ridin’ me through my jeans, like a damn teenager dry-humping after prom.”

“Hnng, Bucky,” you choked, slowing down.

He grabbed your hips with both hands.  “Hey, I didn’t say to stop.”  

With a moan and renewed vigor, you moved faster on top of him, the rough denim clearly a bit too much for your sensitive clit as your thighs began to quiver where they were clamped down around his.  The stimulation on his cock, alternatively, was rather dulled through such thick clothing— it was just enough to keep him desperate, but not enough to get him too near coming, which was the way he wanted it at the moment.  If anything, it was the sight of you rubbing yourself on him desperately that put his restraint at risk.

“Can you feel how hard I am, baby?” he growled a little.  “Can you feel how hard you make me?”

You nodded with a little gasp.  "God, Bucky, I want it in me now."

"Not yet, pretty girl,” he soothed with a smirk.  “I need to taste you first."

He flipped you onto your back and settled on top of you between your legs; he kissed you one more time, resisting the urge to rub his hips on yours again before heading down south to suck your nipple between his lips.  You were so sensitive, moaning loudly each time his tongue circled the bud, and he moaned at the feeling of the skin hardening against his tongue.  He made sure to give some attention to the other one before making a show of kissing down your chest and stomach, looking back up at you with a stare that he could only hope carried all the weight that he was feeling.

"I get it," you grinned down at him, "this is how you reclaim your territory.  You're gonna do what he did to me, but so much better until I can't even remember his name, right?"

"Sweetheart, you didn't even remember his name thirty seconds after it happened,” he reminded you between kisses, moving lower and lower on the bed.

"So you're not trying to assert dominance over sexual competition?" you pressed with a gleam of challenge in your eyes.

"You need to stop reading those evolutionary biology books," he laughed, but then got a bit more stern. "Think of it this way: I don't see any of those stupid boys as competition.  They're nothing.  It's you who needs to know that nobody can make you feel as good as I can."

That seemed to shut you up for the moment, and he smirked before getting back to work kissing along your spread thighs and shaking hips.  He could already smell your need in the air, intoxicating to the point that he struggled to stay focused on mercilessly teasing you.  He wanted to taste you so bad, but he needed to hear you beg him for it.  He started with one finger gently exploring your folds, slow and light, until he felt your hips trying to push up into him for more stimulation.  Then all he had to do was kiss that spot right on the inside of your thigh that wasn’t quite where you wanted him, and you arched your back with a desperate whine.  “Bucky, please,” you whimpered. 

He laughed a little, amused by your little sobs and the way your hands clutched at the comforter beneath you.  “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“Your mouth,” you gasped.

“Where do you want it?” he asked innocently.

You snarled with irritation but answered anyway.  “My pussy.”

“I don’t think I understand,” he encouraged, voice getting deeper on accident as his own arousal became too intense to ignore.

You growled frustratedly but got what he was getting at.  “I need your mouth on my pussy, Bucky, please…”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, darlin’?  All you had to do was ask,” he grinned as he roughly grabbed your thighs and buried his face in between them, sloppily exploring you with his tongue until your taste coated his mouth and overwhelmed all his senses.

“Fuck!” you yelped, shivering against him.  “Oh god, yes, Bucky, oh my god…”

“Is this what you wanted, pretty girl?” he asked, pulling back just as much as he needed to to speak.

“Yes, Bucky, just like that,” you nodded wildly, “feels so good, don’t fucking stop, please—”

He dove in again, finding a pattern that allowed him to suck on your clit and push his tongue inside you simultaneously.  That was the combination that seemed to rile you up most, your hands searching for something to hold on to until they suddenly found purchase gripping his hair, guiding him as your hips bucked against his face.  That was fine with him— more than that, in fact, cause he thought it was so sexy when you demanded control like that— until you switched from pulling him in to pushing him away.  That wouldn’t do at all; with a growl, he grabbed your wrists and forced them down beside you, holding them firm as he licked at you rougher and faster.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you sobbed, back arching so much that he had to fight to keep you in his mouth, “right there, right there— oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

He nodded, but it wasn’t permission; it was ‘of course you are.’

Your walls clenched so hard that your entire sex was pulsing in his mouth, your taste getting stronger in the same way your moans got louder.  He wanted to hold you there as long as you could, and that turned out to be quite a while; he stopped when your screams of pleasure started to push too far into pain, finally letting you rest… for a moment, that is.

He watched your panting breaths catch as he slowly pushed a finger into your hole; it was still pulsing a little bit from the orgasm, and was unbearably hot and wet.

"Fuck, this pretty little pussy is tryin' to suck me in, you see that?  Wants me so bad…"

"M-more, Bucky, please," you whispered.  He obeyed and slipped in a second finger, slowly twisting and trying to open you up for him.

"You like that, pretty girl?" he asked with a smile as he watched your back arch, returning to suck on your clit without waiting for an answer.  He relished the weight of your thighs on his shoulders, taking mental note of where he had to touch you to make them clench around his head.  You kept repeating 'yes' but he didn't think it was intended as an answer to his question because he was pretty sure you hadn't even heard the question.  Still, it was answer enough nonetheless.

He could tell it wouldn't take that long to get you there again, with your g-spot all swollen from the last one.  He didn't push too hard on it yet, just letting his fingers curl ever so slightly to apply a teasing amount of pressure.  

"Don't you wanna fuck me?" you moaned between sobs.

His cock seemed to process that question before his brain did.   "Yes," he answered quickly, even though he thought it was rude to talk with his mouth full.

"Then get on with it," you suggested desperately.  "Come on up here and fuck me."

"I'm not done with this yet," he insisted.

Your head fell back as you hissed frustratedly through your teeth.  "Damn you and your… thoroughness."

"No point in doing anything if you're not gonna do it right," he laughed.  "Besides, I couldn't stop now when you're about to come."

You looked back at him for a second like you didn't agree with that assessment, until he curled his fingers again and your walls rippled erratically around him.  "Fuck," you shuddered.  “Please fuck me, please fuck me, please,” you sobbed, “I need it so bad, I need you inside me— Bucky, pleasepleaseplease—”

He growled against your skin, struggling to resist that but desperate to make you come just one more time before he gave in.  His cock really hated that he wasn’t giving you what you wanted, throbbing and weeping another drop of precum just to remind him of his own desperation.  But he stayed strong, focusing on his task as he felt your walls tighten around him with another orgasm.

You nearly screamed with this one, your voice breaking as your nails dug into the bed beneath you.  You looked fucking perfect with your head thrown back in pleasure like that— and you tasted even better as a gush of your arousal coated his tongue.  

He kept circling your bud with his tongue until you started to sob a little and try to push him off of you, “can’t take anymore, please—”

And he took pity on you, for once— or maybe it was moreso pity on himself as he sat up and palmed himself through his jeans.  He was so hard it hurt, and you looked like you could tell by the way you looked up at him: a glimmer of mischief in your eyes, still, even with the way they’d glazed over a bit from coming so hard.  “Get over here,” you purred as you sat up and pulled him down on top of you, kissing him again as your hands slipped down to clutch at his chest.

Of everything he’d imagined, he had never even thought to consider what it would be like to be undressed by you.  Those nimble fingers fiddling with his belt, working open his fly and zipper with such unabashed desperation, like you needed him more than you’d ever needed anything… truly, it was intoxicating.

Then again, it was nothing compared to your hand slipping into his boxers and wrapping around his cock.  He was sure he’d never gotten so much out of just one touch before, and he had to fight off the moan bubbling in his throat.  Your hands were so soft as they started to gently stroke him; his hips moved of their own accord as they started to thrust into your grasp.

“God, I need you to fuck me,” you groaned, “please, Bucky, need it so bad.”

Entirely speechless as this point, all he could do was nod as he pushed your hands off of him, pushing his jeans off quickly so as to be away from you as briefly as he could manage— and then he was on you again, kissing you everywhere he could reach, moaning when he finally let his cock brush between your legs for a moment.  Even just that and he was already coated in your slick: the rewards of demanding to be thorough, clearly.

“Please,” you sobbed, “put it in me, can’t wait any more, I’ve waited so long…”

It almost made him stop to think, because it was ambiguous if you just meant tonight or more.  But you were begging him for his cock so he wasn’t really in any position to think.

So many times he had wondered if your real moans sounded anything like your fake ones from the movie.  He fantasized for months about a chance to make the comparison.  But with you in front of him, under him, biting down on your lip as he pushed into your perfect warmth, he couldn’t even remember that you’d ever been in a movie.  He couldn’t think about anything else but this moment, right now, and he didn’t want to.

“God, Bucky,” you sighed, as if the two were being regarded at the same level in your mind— and he wasn't even halfway in yet.

Equal parts of him wanted to ease you into it and to tear you in half.  You'd always ignited this paradox in him, this instinct to protect and to destroy, this desire to cherish you and dominate you, but it was most apparent now.  It made him worry that he could never really give you what you deserved, but naturally, he was at his most selfish in this moment.  He had only just begun to push himself into you and he was ready to justify anything to get the rest of the way and bury himself to the hilt.

Your body opened up to him slightly, enough that he felt mostly right about going a little deeper; you gasped and clutched at his forearm, and that was only just barely enough to stop him as a sick pressure of arousal made his gut twist.  Oddly enough, your nails biting into his skin did more to egg him on than it did to slow him down.

He kept his eyes trained on where your bodies were joined, watching in awe at the way you looked stretched out around him; he could feel your struggle to take him in the way your walls quivered and quaked, but he could hear how much you enjoyed it as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"I want it all, Bucky, please," you begged.  Just because he needed to, he was rough with the last inch— not enough for it to be really brutal, but plenty to elicit a precious little sob from you.

It felt so good to be all the way in you that it nearly made him dizzy.  

"Baby," you whispered, and it sounded just like the way you'd said it in the back of the car, just like the way he'd committed to memory and stowed away in his mind to visit whenever he needed to feed his addiction.

How could his chest not burn with jealousy when he remembered that night?  How could he cope with that jealousy with anything but pinning you down and fucking you hard and fast like it was the end of the goddamn world?

You all but screamed as he did it, your whole body shaking as he pounded into you.  He feared it would be more than you could handle but you went from wet to dripping in an instant, your moans loud and hoarse but undeniably a sound of pleasure.  It turned him on even more to know that you liked getting fucked this hard; maybe he didn't need to worry so much about holding back, if this was gonna make you bite your lip and look up at him like that.

"Bucky, oh my god," you sighed, a hint of disbelief in your tone, "it's so good, fuck, you feel so good…"

He wanted to hear more, but he couldn't resist capturing your lips in a kiss first, sloppy and aggressive and needy but overall perfect.  It was almost like he could taste your moans as they vibrated over his tongue, until he could barely tell his apart from yours anymore.  Pulling back, his dog tags were dangling over your face, and you looked so damn good with his name tickling your skin.  

When he lifted your legs and pushed them back up into your chest, you snarled and clutched at the sheets beneath you.  "Too deep?" he asked, not sure himself if it was concern or taunting or somewhere in the middle.

"So fucking deep," you answered, "but not too deep."

"Then maybe I'm not deep enough," he smirked, and you laughed.

"You're trying to ruin me, is that it?" you pressed.

He was afraid to be entirely honest, but your tone wasn't one of fear.  "Something like that," he admitted after a moment.

"It's working," you sighed as you pulled him down by the chain of his tags, kissing him again as your arms slipped around his neck and held him close.

His hands squeezed your thighs, before taking a detour to run up and down your legs.  It made you shiver, and he felt it from inside you which was overwhelmingly erotic.  The time he’d spent making you come so many times was paying off: for one, you were so wet it made him feel a little-lightheaded, but also it meant that he felt familiar with your body now.  He knew what it meant when your walls tightened just so, when you bit your lip that way, when your moans sounded all breathy and strained.  That being, of course, that you were about to come— and he couldn’t wait for you to come just from being fucked, make a mess all over his cock.

And yet, there was still so much more to discover: like how it felt when your legs wrapped around his hips to keep him inside, or when your fingers dug into his shoulders as you looked up at him.

“Gonna come,” you warned him with half-lidded eyes and your mouth fallen slack, “oh my god, Bucky, you’re gonna make me come.”

He growled and tightened his grip on your thigh— something to stabilize him as he fought so hard to stave off his own orgasm.  You felt so good and he could probably come just from the sight of you like this anyways, let alone being inside you right now.  Think about baseball think about baseball think about baseball—

“Yes!” you screamed.  “Right there, oh fuck, Buckyyyyy!” 

“Fuck,” he hissed, completely unable to think about anything but you, lost in the way you cried out his name as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him so perfectly.  

Maybe he was disturbed for thinking you looked pretty with your eyes filling with tears.  He was definitely disturbed for taking some pride in making you cry.  Of course, only because he was making you cry from this.  If he had it his way, Bucky would make you cry in only this way, every day, forever— and make sure nobody made you cry in any other way, while he was at it.  You hiccuped your sob as he continued to pound into you, refusing to let up even as he leaned down to kiss away your tears.  “S-so good,” you mumbled weakly, “Bucky… please…”

"Fuck, gonna come— I'm gonna come," he stammered his warning.

"Inside me, please," you whimpered, "I want it inside me."

"Jesus Christ," he hissed, shaking his head in some form of exhausted shock.  You grinned, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer to you until your lips brushed against his ear.

"Bucky, I want you to come inside me," you repeated in a slow whisper.  "I want every drop of your come in my pussy, I wanna be so full of you, I wanna feel it leaking out all night, I want you to make me yours."

How was he supposed to hold back anymore, with you talking like that?  With you weaving your fingers into his hair and tightening your legs around his hips, with you kissing him deeply and suddenly?  A weak moan was lost to your lips as he filled you, warmth washing over every part of him until he thought he might just melt.  You smiled against him, and he summoned just enough strength to not collapse on top of you and surely crush you with his weight.  Instead, he gave you one last kiss before burying his face in your neck, laughing exhaustedly.  

"Mine, huh?” he remembered.  “You really mean it?"

You hummed quietly, holding him tightly.  "I probably shouldn't answer that question just after you made me come a dozen times."

"No no, you should,” he pressed as he pushed up to hover over you.

You smiled and looked back up at him.  "I'm yours, Bucky."

He growled, leaning down to give your neck light teasing kisses.  "Fuck, keep talkin' like that and I'll double that dozen."

"My body couldn't take it," you asserted.

"I'd make you take it," he promised.

You bit down on your lip, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little.  You weren't as good at feigning innocence as you seemed to think.

"Oh, you like that," he posited.  "Maybe someday I'll tie you down and make you come until all you know how to do is say my name, hm?"

"Bet it wouldn't even take you that long," you admitted.  "I already feel pretty braindead."

Testing that theory, he reached down and drew light circles over your swollen clit with his thumb, even just that subtle touch making your legs and inner walls quiver as your back arched.

"Bucky," you whimpered as you tried to push his hand away, "s'too much, please…"

"Nuh uh, pretty girl, I wanna see you fall apart again.  You know how many times I dreamed of making you come?"

You shook your head.

"Me either, but I wanna keep doing it until I feel like I've reached a number that at least comes close.  I've finally got you in my arms and I won't let you go until I've made up for all the time I wasted."

Notably, his cock which had begun to soften inside you was now getting hard again, from some combination of watching you and feeling you in this moment.

“How do you feel about a second round?” he suggested with a smirk, even as his muscles ached already.  Your eyes went wide but your walls clenched, too.  That was answer enough for him.  “I might break you,” he warned.

“Promise?” you smirked.

[ohheyitsokay]

Okay so I finally came up with a Soulmate AU request to celebrate your (very well-deserved) milestone! How about a soulmark au with poly frontier? I’m really curious to hear your thoughts on how everyone would handle having the same mark as four other people! (Aside from Will and Benny of course - so maybe everyone else has two marks while they each have one??) - Ghost

ghost, my first fandom friend, by biggest encourager of self-indulgent chaos... I sincerely hope you enjoy

warnings: this takes place "in" my poly frontier au, which means it's 18+.

and by in, I mean this is an au to my au, so just... yeah. you know what's happening.

<<

soulmate requests / follower celebration

>>

They knew, deep down that they were soulmates before the marks came in solid.

Even when there was just the faintest echo of shading, almost a bruise of a moment, they already knew.

Because the four of them, and Tom, had willing gone to hell and back with each other. They had felt the lifeblood bleed out of each other, and given their very breath to try to make up for it, sacrificed... everything, for each other. Not for their country, like the thought, and it wasn't even for the greater good that they survived - it was the men who's eyes found each other's across the fire that fortified their souls. And they'd been pushed and pulled and stretched together, and when only four remained, thoroughly broken and then healing together, they knew.

Months into therapy, each on their own, and a lifetime into tired phonecalls with quiet apologies, the tattoos solidified.

It was Santi who organized the dinner

"Can... can I ask you guys something?"

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Will’s words were without bite, and he sipped his drink carefully.

"Fuck off," he said begrudgingly, endearingly. "Your guy's... came in, too?" That part was false confidance, a thin veil over wild fear.

"Yep," Frankie's tone was matter-of-fact, satisfied. Glances and nods, they all... processed it. Benny swallowed the last of his drink and Frankie's knuckles ran over his thighs. Santi inhaled deeply before letting the breathe out slowly, trying to ignore the slight tremble of his hands.

It was messy, the soulmate talk. They'd been having it all their lives - the intricacies that even the world's most powerful governments still couldn't untangle. And Frankie and Santi each had two.

Will dragged his thumb through the condensation on his glass, looking involuntarily at his brother.

"I need to tell you guys something." Their heads shot up to look at him, and Benny almost laughed.

"There's someone else."

They were looking at him in blank shock, an appropriate reaction.

"Fuck."

"You know this... how, exactly?"

"Childhood friend. She got two, in college. Matches Will and me, the same as you guys. " Ben sounded almost giddy, his words making the chaos real.

"Mom hated it - was sure one of us was going to die or get our heart broken. But then we saw your guy's and -"

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Frankie was mad. It was too much - it felt unreal.

"She said she didn't want to choose either brother, said it didn't feel right."

"Now we know why, I guess." Benny's hand ran across Frankie's shoulder, his attempt to make light of it all had been put aside.

"She?"

"Yeah."

Pope dragged his hand along his jaw, drink forgotten. There was a familiar glint in his eye, and Will knew he felt it too - like it or not, it felt right. Frankie would take longer to convince - he looked like he wanted to crack his head open and cook whatever was inside.

"You guys should meet her."

Catfish made a strangled noise, and Will couldn't help but kiss his temple.

"Whenever you're ready."

-

It took weeks.

Frankie went silent for ten days, ignoring calls and texts, before Will came home and found him on his couch.

They talked for awhile and it was nice, different than therapy. Not about being Delta, not about Columbia or cocaine, they talked about... you. About how you'd been Will's first love, since he was a pretend knight in shining armor, and you'd asked to be the dragon. About how he'd seen that same look in Benny's eyes when you'd been the only one to turn up at one of his high school shows. Their long talks, trying to figure out how to move on from their soulmate, how impossible it felt until they all met on the force. About how scary it was, for all these friendships to become something so... unknown.

And over chili, Frankie sighed, and agreed to meet you. Because of Will, he was already in love with you more than he'd admit even to himself.

-

They invited you over to Santi's for dinner, not wanting to cause a scene at a restaurant.

Benny hugged you the moment you walked in, crushing your nerves and your ribcage at the same time. Your hand cradled his cheek, a reassuring touch.

Then Will gently pulled you into his arms, harboring you against his chest. He asked questions into your hair, and you grabbed fistfulls of his shirt before you nodded.

The one they introduced as Frankie - Catfish - didn't touch you but he might as well have. He stepping into your space, looking right into your eyes, standing over you like he was as tall as Ben. His words were kind, and careful. His tattoos matched yours.

The other - Santi, Pope - dropped the package of farmer's market veggies he'd been holding onto the ground. Then he shook your hand, while the others shot him looks like he'd grown an extra head. You wondered if Will had texted you the wrong names - he didn't seem excited to meet you like they'd said. If anything, he seemed caught off-guard, like there was a confidance you had taken away. But his tattoos matched yours.

Your nerves returned.

Food helped, polite conversations melting into teasing stories and giddy laughter. They ate a lot, and you smiled when they shared bites with each other. Under the table Benny’s hand found yours, and squeezed before he got distracted. Above, Will touched your cheek and for the first time, you let yourself lean into his warmth.

And when you began to clean the dishes, something shifted. Frankie's hands ran over yours in the soapy water, and he seemed startled, but he shifter closer to you, both of you flushing as you sought the touch again.

Moments later you stumbled upon Santi looking at the stars when you took out the trash. It was flattering, that such a man would be nervous because of you. Standing on your toes, you kissed his cheek, and he pulled you into his arms, grab so tight you though you understood his fears. His palm held your head against his neck,, and you wrapped your arms around his broad ribcage. Will found you like that, and leaned against the doorframe, watching.

You felt like you were free falling, and you could tell they felt it too. It was a lot to take in, but no one seemed like they wanted the night to end. Trading stories and sharing glances, it dragged on and on, until Francisco caught you yawning, and coaxed the evening to a close.

By the time he succeeded, you knew, and so did they. Marks be damned - this was it.

-

Your first individual date was with Benny. It wasn't as easy as either of you expected - his own anxiety about the situation finally catching up to his excitement. He was a good friend, always had been, always would be, and you knew him like the back of your hand. Dating had been off-limits for so long.... it was going to take time to rewrite.

"I just... I love you. I love you all so much." Your Ben was always honest. It would've felt like a crazy thing to say, on a first date, but everything about this wasn't traditional.

"I love you too, Ben, you know I do." Your voice was quiet, trying to convey how strange this was for you, too, and he let out a long, slow breath. After awhile, air full of thoughtful silence, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled, soft and happy.

His rough hands found yours again, and this time, he didn't let go until he had to.

-

When you met Frankie for lunch, you felt suddenly shy. His dark eyes felt like they could see right into your heart, and you fidgeted, hoping he liked whatever he saw.

He talked like he knew you, and you felt like he did, a strange comfort in the chaos of your worlds. When your wrist bumped your glass he caught both, hand lingering on your skin as he ducked his head and pulled his eyes away.

Words came easier, then, and more and more, until suddenly you felt like maybe fate know what it was doing.

Frankie was thoughtful - so thoughtful and careful and kind, you watched him in awe, tempted to hug him without abandon. And he talked with passion, about your boys, how they saved him time and time again, and how he took care of them, when you couldn't.

You realized, as you kissed his cheek goodbye, that he was the one who helped change Benny's tire, so he could make it to your birthday party a few years ago. Footsteps already on the way down the street, your heart tugged, begging you to take one last look at his fluffy curls and steady eyes. When you turned back, he was watching you, hands in his pockets, and you wondered as you waved if it was too soon to say you were head over heels for Francisco Morales.

-

Dinner with Santi felt the most like a first date, of all of them. He was quick to flirt, but his eyes held yours, and his smile was perfectly crooked, and you knew he meant every word.

He told you information, rather than stories, rambling excitedly, one train of thought stringing into the next. When he realized his tangents, he flushed, wringing his napkin as he apologized.

"Don't," you shushed him, "Tell me more, please."

He was silent for a moment, pausing to drink you in, heart racing in spite of himself. And then he resumed, and you thought maybe you got it.

For years, he'd had loves all around him, but... you were his first opportunity to be romantic in a dramatic way, as intense as his heart had ached for, silently. It was lovely, watching him settle into his skin, and when he kissed your temple that night, it was a thank you, and a promise.

Despite all logic, the free falling and stumbling steps towards whatever came next, he made you feel safe.

-

It was a familiar grassy hill, you met Will on, one you'd climb to when you were teens who needed to talk.

He sat close - closer than he ever had - but enough away that you could move, if you wanted to. It was strange, talking about the others with him, seeing the relief in his eyes as your honesty poured out. Moments later, he matched it, and you saw that golden glow as he smiled.

"I'm glad, really I am."

You waited.

"But..." gently, you bumped into him and he looked at you, blue eyes questioning. "I know you, Will."

His smile grew.

"Could I... I want to kiss you." It wasn't really a question - and he held himself back, watching for your response. There was no need to add I want to kiss you because I've been waiting to, aching to. Since we were kids - let me kiss you first. Please. Both lf you knew what he meant.

You weren't sure who leaned in first, but his hands, grabbed at your cheeks, fingertips in your hair, and his lips were warm and soft.

It, all of it, felt like home.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

[hobiiwan]

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

[roswellwrites]

>posts for the first time in two years

>it's 5k words of the cowboy from dbd eating p*ssy

>refuses to elaborate

>leaves

Pairing: caleb quinn x reader

Tags: oral, fingering, some dirty talk. Relatively tame considering how overboard i went with this imo

Word count: 5052 but we don’t have to talk about it

When you opened your eyes to find yourself standing in the center of Glenvale’s dusty street, you huffed. 

You were used to it by now, the way the unsettlingly thick fog would seem to appear from nowhere, rolling unnaturally across the clearing as it picked and chose those who would be unfortunate this time.

You remembered holding your breath, your eyes squeezed shut and hands wringing anxiously on your lap, begging wordlessly for the Entity’s fog to pass you over.

And yet here you were.

Still, Glenvale was not the worst case scenario.

The old fort -while not exactly new territory in the Entity’s realm- was still relatively unfamiliar to you, unexplored, eerie and overgrown. 

The air was always strange here, imbued with an undercurrent of dark energy, thrumming heavy and electric as if alive with the misfortune that had befallen the small settlement.

You lazily kicked a pebble in your path, the action unsettling the dust in a way that felt dramatic, even by trial standards. 

You noticed your boots first, like nothing you owned in the real world but familiar to you in a way you couldn’t quite place. But it wasn’t just your shoes that were different. Some time between the campfire and the fog and arriving on the dusty streets of Glenvale, your outfit had changed completely.

The dress you wore was a new addition to your (very limited) wardrobe, short in the front and long in the back, layered but surprisingly light, contradictory to the material’s heavy appearance. The fabric itself was a deep maroon trimmed with black, matte with no hint of shine to it, unmistakably high quality though perhaps not quite authentic to the setting. The dress’s bodice was tight and low cut, flattering, you mused, if the eyeful of your own cleavage you got when you looked down was any indication.

You rubbed your gloved hands together idly, enjoying the smooth feel of the fabric and the small ‘swish swish’ of your fingers as they brushed against one another. 

Beyond that you wore stockings, the material closer to sheer than opaque, lacy bands fitting you snuggly slightly above your knee as they disappeared under the hem of your skirt.

Your boots had a small heel to them, laced tightly, the cuffs extending an inch or so above the natural curve of your ankle.

You clicked your heels together experimentally, more amused than anything else.

A saloon girl outfit.

Fitting.

You stopped in the dusty street, raising your eyes skyward in awe as you admired the beautiful swirling galaxies and twinkling stars, brighter and more defined than you had ever seen them before. You allowed yourself only a moment to enjoy the sight before hurrying along, side-eyeing a wayward buzzard as it screeched its displeasure from an overturned cart in the street.

You climbed the steps leading to the saloon’s main entrance, eager to get off the street and find somewhere a little less out in the open, your eyes scanning the establishment quickly as you crossed the threshold.

The inside of the old building was a scattering of overturned furniture, tables and chairs covered in a fine layer of dust and pockmarked by bullet holes.

You cast a cursory glance over the dead bodies, frozen permanently in the entity’s snapshot, no longer human bodies but now props to set a stage.

Your eyes lingered on the bar before passing over it quickly, knowing from experience that nothing of value would be found there. You had conducted a thorough investigation the first time you were here -a search for resources of course, nothing more- finding only shattered glass and a single unmarked bottle, the lone swig of alcohol inside burning your mouth in a way that had you tasting it for the rest of the trial no matter how many times you spit.

But off to one side rested the shining star of the old saloon, an old piano that had completely enthralled you the first time you saw it and every time since.

The instrument in question was the oldest piano you’d ever seen, exciting but not all that much of a surprise given the setting. You dragged the rickety chair from its place under the keybed and took a seat, ignoring the small screech of the chair legs on the old floor as you did so.

You spread your fingers over the keys, your touch feather-light, unbothered by the accumulated dust and grime on your pristine gloves as the piano banged out its own discordant tune.

There was the light creaking of worn floorboards behind you paired with the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps as they approached. Boots, you parsed easily. Definitely boots.

You felt a flash of fear, the feeling lasting only a handful of seconds before you forced yourself to settle again. You took a moment to think of the other survivors that had entered the trial with you. Too loud to be Ace’s loafers, the wrong sound altogether to be Yui’s sandals.

Jeff then.

You straightened in your chair, casting an excited glance over your shoulder. “Jeff,” you beamed. “Check this out-“

“Not Jeff,” the tall man rasped behind you.

Your blood ran cold, all traces of your smile vanishing and eyes widening in dawning horror as your entire body went rigid with fear.

The gunslinger’s hand was on your shoulder suddenly, his grip punishing, and you spun, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of the man towering over you. Your mouth dropped dumbly in surprise as you moved immediately to stand, to run maybe, a startled noise instead tearing itself from your throat as the cowboy shoved you backwards so hard that the old wooden chair groaned in protest.

You noticed his grin before anything else, crooked and unkind as he looked at you. His eyes were intense, sharp and predatory, alight with the thrill of having caught you off guard.

‘My heartbeat,’ your brain supplied unhelpfully, gloved hand flying to your chest as your heartbeat suddenly roared to life behind your ribs. “Why...” you trailed off, tongue darting out nervously to wet your bottom lip. “Why didn’t I hear-“

His grin widened, strange eyes dragging leisurely and without shame from your face to trail the length of your body. “Reckon you just weren’t listening, girlie.”

You followed his gaze, puzzled briefly.

You could instantly feel the blood rush to your cheeks, fear pushed aside and replaced with embarrassment to find that your skirt had ridden up when he shoved you backwards, the already short hem pushed back enough to reveal the tops of your lacy stockings and garters, decorated with small, intricate bows.

You shifted in your chair, moving instinctively to press your thighs together and smooth the fabric back into place before you stopped yourself, a piece of advice given to you by another survivor ringing clear as a bell in your ears.

“Try to catch them off guard."

‘Sure,’ you thought. ‘Why not?’

You inhaled deeply, taking a moment to compose yourself under the man’s sharp gaze, lashes fanning against your flushed cheeks as you closed your eyes. When you opened them again, you tilted your head slightly, allowing a strand of loose hair to slip free from behind your ear and teasingly brush the tops of your breasts. You shifted forward in your seat, pleased to note the obvious way that the gunslinger’s eyes drifted to your chest again. You spread your fingers over your collarbone, making a show of it as you arched your back to give the man a better view.

“Ain’t above fightin’ dirty, I see,” the tall man scoffed.

You ignored the comment in favor of action. You reached towards him, willing your hands to steady themselves as you hooked pseudo-confident fingers behind the man’s belt and tugged him playfully towards you. “Reckon we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, Mister,” you drawled, tongue darting out to wet your lips in a way that you hoped read more sultry than nervous.

There was a moment where the man simply looked at you, head tilting slightly as if mulling the phrase over. He seemed to come to his conclusion quickly enough, perhaps deciding that your sudden exaggerated southern drawl wasn’t meant to offend or that this wasn’t some kind of trap he was about to fall into.

“That so?” The man grinned. He stepped forward into your space obligingly, seeming to humor the invitation of closeness. His eyes still held that unsettling glint to them, too bright and too shiny. Unnatural. Inhuman.

Regardless, you were pleased when he dropped his gaze again, his strange eyes focusing on the slight rustle of your heavy skirt as you spread your thighs wider to accommodate him.

This was easy. This was something you could do.

You felt your heart rate spike again when he shifted his weapon in his hands, your shoddily crafted facade dangerously close to slipping as you fought the urge to flinch. You allowed your eyes to linger on the gun for only a moment before sliding your gaze instead to his face, forcing an air of casualness. “I bet if you put that gun down, we could find a better use for those hands of yours, cowboy.”

You knew the gunslinger could end this little game right now if he wanted, could pick you up and carry you to a hook and there would be nothing you could do about it. But the thought of escaping the situation (or the trial, for that matter) was no longer at the forefront of your mind, a concept that emboldened but -more importantly- thrilled you in a way you couldn’t quite articulate.

That’s all this entire scenario was; just one big trust fall.

The gunslinger made a small noise at the offer, over exaggerated as if mulling it over. “Hmmm…” he said, stretching the sound long enough that you had to tamp down your fear again. After a brief pause,  there was the dull sound of steel meeting wood as the man reached past you to prop his gun in the corner where the piano met the wall.

All at once the tension seemed to leave your chest, like a bubble that had burst behind your rib cage. You exhaled softly through your nose, breathing a silent sigh of relief as you cast your eyes upwards to see now that the large man’s expression truly had shifted from ‘firmly murderous’ to ‘more than slightly amused.’

With his hands now free, the gunslinger reached down to cup your jaw, calloused thumb passing idly over your lips as if inspecting you.

“My, you certainly are a pretty thing, aren’t ya,” he mused. “Never woulda guessed what with all the blood yer always covered in.”

Without the immediate threat of death looming over your head, you allowed your shoulders to loosen. You shifted forward in your seat, one hand sliding from his belt to linger now on his thigh. Time to really go for it. “Maybe we could work out some kind of...trade.”

“Oh?” He asked, smug. “And what could you possibly offer me that I couldn’t just take?”

“Been told I’m pretty good with my mouth,” you said matter of factly, purposely ignoring the second half of the question. You tilted your chin upwards slightly, both hands coming up now to catch the gunslinger’s hand as his thumb lingered by your mouth. You parted your lips slightly, taking the tip of the aforementioned digit into your mouth and closing your teeth playfully around it.

The taste that hit your tongue wasn’t as unpleasant as you thought it might be, all dust and faded tobacco and some sort of bitter machine oil. Certainly not a deterrent. “Just say the word, cowboy, and I’ll get on my knees and take you for one hell of a ride.”

The gunslinger said nothing at first, as if processing the information he was given. Finally after a moment he spoke.

“I’ll do you one better, girlie,” he grinned. He moved quickly then, giving you only a few seconds to process what was said before he was lifting you out of your chair, settling you with ease on the dusty piano top. “Won’t even have to get on your knees for it.”

You froze at the suddenness with which he moved you, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. You regained your bravado quickly however,  lifting one thigh and then the other as you freed your dress from where it had become trapped beneath you. “Is that so?” You asked.

He watched the movement of the fabric with hungry eyes, his calloused hands moving from their resting position at your waist downwards, trailing your hips before settling firmly on your closed thighs.

Your heart leapt into your throat as exploratory fingers dipped below your skirt to find the top of one stocking, hooking a finger beneath the garter and snapping it lightly against your thigh. You squirmed, your eyes glued helplessly on his long fingers as he began to push the fabric up and out of the way.

“Reckon you’ll have to pardon my eagerness,” the man said, though the crooked grin on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t as apologetic as he tried to appear. “Suppose if I was a gentleman I might be takin’ this a little slower,” he mused, meeting your eyes before continuing. “But it’s been a long time since I was a gentleman…and I’m in a mighty big hurry to get started.”

From here the gunslinger made quick work of your garter clasps, his deft fingers moving immediately upwards to catch the edge of your delicate ruffled bloomers.

You could feel yourself blushing heavily in anticipation, too warm, almost dizzying as the heat crept further into your chest and face.

The man paused, his predatory gaze finally straying from your lower half to meet your eyes. His lopsided smirk widened further as he seemed to catch sight of your frazzled expression. “You pick these out?” He asked teasingly, tugging playfully at the fabric.

You opened your mouth to speak, your long overheated brain struggling and failing to churn out a suitable answer. “No,” you said instead, decidedly less than intelligent.

He chuckled at this, seemingly amused as he worked the undergarments down your thighs and then over your boots with ease.

You inhaled sharply at the experimental prodding of his fingers at your entrance, the almost gentle way he pressed forward before withdrawing, spreading your growing slick in his wake.

The sounds of your wetness were already audible -embarrassingly so- even over your shaky breathing and the screech of the buzzards outside. You closed your eyes, attempting to ignore the lewdness of the sound but finding this only served to deepen your blush and make you wetter.

“This doin’ somethin’ for you, sweetheart?” The cowboy asked, entirely too self-satisfied for your liking. “Or are you just easily excited?”

You chose to remain silent, a futile attempt to preserve the small amount of dignity you had left.

When he placed his hand on your middle and guided you back gently, you took the hint, supporting your weight with your arms as you leaned backwards to give him better access. From here he bent forward to get a better look at you, large hands forcing your thighs wide, grunting in annoyance when the brim of his large hat bumped against your stomach.

“Damn hat,” he muttered, his tone edging on irritated as he all but snatched the offending accessory from his head and placed it swiftly on top of your own. “Hold this for me, would you?”

You reached up reflexively, grabbing the brim of the old hat and lifting it slightly where it had fallen into your eyes.

You jolted at the first touch of his lips, sudden and bold, cheeks flushed and eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of his harsh stubble on your delicate inner thighs.

“Christ,” you said, too caught off guard to say anything else.

“We’re just gettin’ started.”

His mouth was hot against you, impossibly wet, the movements of his tongue languid and unhurried, thorough as if he planned to explore every inch of you and thought himself to have all the time in the world. The gunslinger’s hands were fire where they met your skin, his calloused fingertips tracing the edges of your stockings with teasing almost feather-light touches.

You lost yourself in a sea of heat, nerve endings alight with pleasure as he really set to work. In the distance you heard a generator roar to life, so far away that you weren’t entirely sure you had heard it at all. How many was that now? Two? Three?

He flattened his tongue against you, the pressure suddenly merciless when combined with the chapped lips and the barest hint of the man’s teeth. You began to squirm, the noises now slipping freely from your lips before you could stop them. You reached for him, your shaking fingers grasping desperately at his coat collar to drag him in closer before you could think better of it.

The gunslinger shifted his weight from one leg and then the other, hooking his arms around your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the piano top and closer still to his mouth. He hooked one of your knees over his shoulder, grinning against your inner thigh as he found a new angle that seemed to please him.

You made a small noise when he pressed one of his long fingers inside of you unexpectedly, a whine slipping from between parted lips as he twisted the digit this way and that. Your hips jolted involuntarily, the action surprising you in its abruptness. Your roving hands flew from the uncomfortable hold on his collar to scrabble uselessly at whatever else you could find, settling eventually on the cowboy’s hat as it rested on your head.

You grabbed the brim with both hands, pulling it down to hide your embarrassment as the gunslinger worked you open with all the experience of a man who had done this many times.

“Now, now,” he chastised, one arm moving from where it curled around your thigh to reach up, pulling the hat from your hands easily and replacing it atop your head in its original position. He flicked the brim teasingly, knocking it upwards and away from your eyes. “No hidin’, girlie.”

You gasped when he added a second finger alongside the first, your body suddenly overwhelmed entirely by the sensation. You twisted in his hold, thighs quaking and toes curling in your boots as the man continued his onslaught.

He chuckled then, a deep rumbling sound that sent another wave of liquid fire to your lower abdomen.

“You’re a sweet little thing, ain’t ya? So warm and welcomin’ for me...squeezing my fingers like you ain’t got no desire to ever see me go,” he teased. His cheeks were flushed, obvious now where you weren’t entirely sure before, sun damaged face ruddy even beneath the thin layer of dirt that coated him. His breath was hot where it fanned against your inner thighs, something you were acutely aware of as he went on. “…and wetter than a goddamn thunderstorm already,” he continued with a grin, seeming to revel in your squirming. “You sure don’t disappoint, do ya?”

You could feel your face heat impossibly further under the scrutiny, shaking legs attempting and failing to squeeze shut subconsciously as the man’s words began to register in your delayed brain.

He gave another raspy laugh, as if amused by the halfhearted attempt.

“Aww, now don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he grinned, turning his head to deliver a playful nip to your inner thigh. You could feel his large hands on your trembling knees, spreading them to their previous positions and then a little beyond that, exposing you obscenely to his hungry gaze.

As he brought his mouth back to your heated flesh, you realized you had never felt like this before, so entirely overwhelmed and thoroughly devoured.

This was going to ruin you.

There was movement to your right, a flash of pink just beyond the window, and you shifted your eyes to it instinctively.

Ace’s eyes were unreadable behind his reflective lenses, his lips pressed into a tense line, more serious perhaps than you had ever seen him. He lifted his hand slowly, raising his thumb first in question before rotating his wrist nearly a full 180 degrees and giving the universal signal for thumbs down.

You blinked slowly in confusion, eyes moving from the man’s hand then to his face and then back again. You knew you were supposed to say something here, or maybe do something. Your thought process was slowed nearly to nothing as the cowboy fucked you mercilessly with his fingers and tongue.

You were surprised to hear the tall man speak suddenly, the sound all but snapping you from your trance as you continued to stare with unfocused eyes towards the newcomer.

“He’s askin’ if you’re alright,” the gunslinger said, finally dragging himself from your lower half as if that was the last thing he wanted to do. He sneered, shooting a scathing look towards the interruption, impatient in a way you knew would mean trouble for Ace later. “Reckon you should answer him so we can go about our business.” Here he paused, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilted his head teasingly at you. “Unless yer lookin’ to give the man a show.”

You mulled this over for a moment, seconds stretching on, not so much entertaining the idea of giving Ace a front row seat to your escapade so much as trying to remember how to string together words to make a coherent thought. “Oh,” you said finally, licking idly at your lips. Right. “I’m…I’m good,” you called, your voice cracking under the strain.

“Just good, huh?” The gunslinger teased. His long, dexterous fingers crept back to their original positions on your flushed skin. “Thinkin’ we can do a little better than just good.”

In the time it took for you to realize what was about to happen, he was on you again, delving forward to press his tongue inside of you once more.

You arched in surprise, sitting completely upright now as opposed to your relaxed, blissed out posture from only a moment ago, your own fingers twitching restlessly against your thighs. You gasped softly, eyes darting towards Ace again to find that his expression had changed entirely, smirk curling his lips now where only concern had been before. He tipped his cap at you, head tilted in a small nod and his grin growing ever broader when you reached up reflexively to tip the cowboy’s hat in return.

And then as quickly as the gambler appeared, he was gone, your attention shifting immediately back to the gunslinger as he pressed his fingers inside you again. You reveled in the delicious stretch, the digits thick and pleasant as he scissored them within you. Your legs shook, twinging muscles threatening to cramp as the gunslinger held them in their current positions, stretched too wide for too long.

Your hand dove to grab the edge of the piano top when his tongue found your clit, circling it first before beginning to lick it, all teasing thrown out the window now as he set to work in earnest.

“Quite the gentleman droppin’ in to check on you,” the cowboy sneered between punishing licks. His eyes cut suddenly towards the window, as if scanning for the other man. He gave a pleased hum to see that the other man had moved along, the noise vibrating deliciously against your skin. “Was wonderin’ when he was gonna make himself known,” the gunslinger grinned. “Been standing there an awful long time just a’watchin’.”

“If it was anyone else, I’d probably have the common sense to be embarrassed,” you gasped, head tipped back now as you lost yourself in the rhythm of his long fingers as they rocked in and out. “Ace…” you continued, breath hitching as the gunslinger picked up his pace. “Ace is Ace.”

“Not a fan of that one,” the cowboy said offhandedly. “Beat me in cards once. He cheats.”

“He’s just lucky.”

“He cheats,” the man said again, firm, the tone brooking no argument. The bottom half of the cowboy’s face was shiny and wet, and you found yourself distracted by his tongue as it slid from between his chapped lips to run his tongue through it.

“Okay,” you said dumbly. “Okay.”

There was the abrupt sound of a generator being completed, a sudden blinding brightness that shone through the windows and had you squinting your eyes.

“Ah,” the gunslinger said. “Reckon that’s my cue to finish this up.”

You nearly arched off the piano top when he dove back in purposefully, all tongue and lips and fingers that plunged in and out, in and out. He pinned you easily as you squirmed, movements becoming increasingly more wild as he continued his merciless assault. You could feel the build up in your lower stomach, nerve endings alight as your body struggled to process the gunslinger’s ministrations.

When had you started panting?

“Maybe if you ask real sweet, I’ll - “

“Please,” you said immediately, the word falling from your lips before he could finish his thought. You weren’t above begging. You were so close now, teetering on the precipice, any bit of hesitancy you had before completely thrown out the window in the wake of your impending orgasm.

You began to plead in earnest, the same word spoken over and over again -please, please, please- so many times now that the word began to lose its meaning.

You were beyond incoherent, you knew, entirely incomprehensible as the cowboy worked you so thoroughly that you could swear you saw stars. “Please,” you begged, desperate in a way that would surely embarrass you later. “Please, please.”

The gunslinger said something in his gravelly voice, his tone distinctly pleased but overshadowed by your shameless begging. When his thumb met your clit, you gave a sharp inhale as you were pushed over the edge, less a gentle step into the unknown and more a runaway train careening off the tracks.

Despite the build up, you were entirely unprepared for the orgasm that tore through you. It was all encompassing, intense in a way that you had never experienced. Your entire body shuddered, knees and thighs quaking on either side of the gunslinger’s head, thoroughly overwhelmed. You whined when he continued to lick into you despite the overstimulation, his long fingers still pumping in and out even as you squirmed and twisted.

Then all at once the stimulation was gone and you could breathe again.

The gunslinger began to pull away from you, his voice barely muffled against your skin as he spoke once more. His voice was deep, husky and too low to hear over the blood that still rushed loudly in your own ears.

“What?” You asked, flushed chest still heaving as your head continued to clear. You felt like you were underwater, like you could see the cowboy’s mouth moving but couldn’t make your brain understand what was being said.

The gunslinger straightened, finally returning to his full height as he wiped the slick off his face with one dusty sleeve. He opened his mouth again, a sudden sickening ‘pop’  filling the air as he corrected his crooked jaw. He gave a soft grunt of pain, one hand coming up to cup his face in a way that indicated that this was not an unusual occurrence.

“Said my jaw is hurtin’ like a sonuvabitch,” he repeated, grimacing as he shifted his jaw from one side and then the other as if trying to keep it from becoming stiff again. “I’ll be damned if you didn’t make it worth my while, though.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, overtly aware of the awkwardness as it began to seep back into the situation without his hands and mouth to occupy you.

You made a small noise of surprise when he grabbed you around your waist suddenly, lifting you from the piano and setting you down as easily as he had lifted you in the first place. Your legs felt wobbly underneath you, unsteady, a feeling you tried to brush away as you smoothed your skirt back into a position you deemed acceptable.

The gunslinger watched the movement of your skirt with rapt attention, much in the same way he’d watched it earlier when you were trying to tempt him.

”Nothin’ left to do but leave,” the tall man said idly. That strange glint had returned to his eyes, any warmth fading as he reached behind you for his weapon. “Reckon you oughta head out as soon as those gates are open if you want to make it out in one piece.”

Uh oh.

“Go on now,” he grinned, all teeth, unkind and dangerous in a way that sent a chill down your spine. He stepped into your space, standing nearly two heads taller than you as he plucked his hat from your head. “Trust me when I say you don’t wanna test me.”

You yelped when he delivered a sudden sharp slap to your rear, the contact finally spurning you into action. You stumbled down the saloon stairs and back onto the dusty street, one arm coming up to block the too-bright light as your eyes struggled to adjust.

Behind you, the gunslinger laughed, raspy and low. “Find me in the fog any time, girlie.”

You shot one last glance over your shoulder as you hurried along, making your way quickly towards the nearest gate as it loomed heavy and industrial at the end of the street.

In the distance you heard a scream, ear piercing and guttural. You sucked in a breath, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other as if debating what to do, the cowboy’s words from earlier echoing suddenly in your head.

‘Reckon you oughta head out as soon as those gates are open if you want to make it out in one piece.’

In the distance another scream rang out, echoing across the prairie.

You didn’t stick around to hear a third.

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 10 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok

length: 7.2k

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Egocentric to pray for a delay in sunrise, but you would do it for a fracture in time would serve well as a sanctuary for your dormant star; nonetheless, when night ends and day arrives, the sweet tears of midnight will vaporize into inexistence.

Night strings along irrationality in an overexposure of our deepest subconscious. At the deepest of troughs and under the darkest of skies, there, we lie more vulnerable and prone to false hope than ever, for last night is the ultimate testament to mankind’s greatest fear.

Emotions could have been running high, lethargy could have gotten the best of him, anything could have and would have shattered the boy of last night's scattered soul poorly taped into a fragile whole; ironically, however, it is exactly the spill of burdens and truths of the night to the attentive ears of a beholder, you, which had saved him from such atrocities.

So you prayed, prayed for dusk to drown dawn in an endless embrace with itself until the boy could finally relish in the long awaited night's rest, and yet, still, you feared the longer he slept in the comforts of superficial dreams, the stronger his demons would return; and so, with a heavy and anxious heart, you had found yourself trapped in your own double edged sword of a state—basking in his warm presence, shivering in your guilty conscience.

In the end, all is for naught when the peak of sun rays through the slit of the curtains showers upon your cheeks perched on the armrest of a couch.

Squinting, you groan in a groggy voice before regretfully slipping the first word which comes to mind.

“Hoseok?”

Your following silence meets its own reflection.

With stained efforts, your body slumps into the couch as your half awakened state scans through the room that remains perfectly untouched. The remnants of your memories recalls how you had somehow stumbled your way to the couch sitting beside the bed of your motel room, refusing to fall asleep just inches beside the boy in your bed; although, said boy remains nowhere to be seen as of now.

Heavy steps and rowdy mumbles muffled by the floor beneath convince your unwilling self to drag yourself off the couch, slipping the blanket you recall being gently draped over and tucked under you in your sleep last night to the floor. Matters of the previous night forgotten, your feet stumble its way to the bathroom, disregarding the perfectly folded and tucked sheets of where he should have been lying. A few splashes of cold water to your drowsy state are surprisingly enough to fully awaken you after a relatively nice albeit anxious night of rest; with alertness, however, floods the remembrance of him.

“Jimin!” you call out, weaving through the incoming crowd of camp attendees packing their bags. Catching sight of the rather petite boy chatting away with his usual friends, Taehyung and Jungkook, you take one final stride before urgently pulling off to the side.

“Hey, Y/N,” his eyes widen in confusion by the sudden greeting, “what’s up?”

“Do you know what’s going on with Hoseok? Did anything happen to him yesterday evening?” you blurt, pausing for a second until another thought comes to mind. “Oh, and what do you mean he wasn’t on patrol duty last night? Then what—” you stop abruptly when you realize Hoseok’s likely desire to keep things between you and him confidential “—who was on patrol?”

“...I was?” Jimin arches a brow. “Why? Did something happen? Is there something wrong with Hoseok?”

So he doesn’t know.

None of the boys know the real reason behind Hoseok’s reluctance to return—or at least the surface level of the seemingly endless depth to that facade of his.

“No,” you quickly deny, shaking your head and scanning the bustling entrance hall; as if innate, your line of sight naturally draws to the centripetal force of your Earth’s center.

“Then why—”

“—hey, I’ll catch up with you later, alright? I still have to pack my bags…” your voice trails along with your eyes which follow Hoseok as he glides from one side of the room across to the other. Hand drifting from Jimin’s shoulder, you gradually whirl around and follow the beckons of your heart akin to pearls under the sway of the ocean’s waves. “Hoseok!”

Body beneath your sway, Hoseok whirls around to face you with a quizzical look glancing down at the hand which grasps his arm.

“Yeah?” he asks gently, arching a brow at you when a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Is there something I can help you with, babe?”

Initially, you had approached him with the intent to confront him about last night. His behavior, his words, his burdens, you know he's hurt and there's nothing you want more than to help him, not to mention the unreasonable guilt stirring inside you for failing to tackle the situation efficiently then and there; but even despite the momentary shock of the return of that egotistical mien of his, it's impossible for you to see him the same way after witnessing his sheer vulnerability.

For once, you must be selfless. Push aside your wants for that of his own, because unbeknownst to you, his own needs became your wants somewhere along the irrevocable path of time.

“About last night…” you start and the crease above his brow only deepens. “I just… I'm sorry I didn't comfort you or ask you this earlier…” you prim and trace your hand along his arm to meet his hands. Peering up to meet his gaze, he flinches yet you refuse to turn a blind eye. “...”...but are you doing alright, Hoseok?”

“What…” he frowns and stiffens in place, “...do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you clear your throat, shifting your weight, “are you okay? Is there anything you want or need to tell me? Or anyone? Because I just want you to know I'm always here to lend an—”

“—look, I don't know what you're rambling on about,” Hoseok chuckles, retracting his hands from yours to nonchalantly ruffle your hair before crossing his arms, “but all I recall from last night is a certain someone refusing to sleep on the same bed as me. I almost forgot I was dating the most pristine of the untainted.”

“...rambling on about?” you repeat in a mumble, frowning and shaking your head. “No, Hoseok, listen, when you mentioned dance and… and your passion for it, I didn’t know how to respond because you were actually opening up to me.”

Hoseok blinks blankly, deep breaths in and out as his chest rises higher and steadier with each puff before he equivocates, “Y/N, I don’t recall anything of such sorts, and even if they did happen, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Hoseok—” you pause when your voice fails you “—I’m not forcing you to talk about it, I just want you to know—”

“—Y/N,” he sternly articulates, gaze affixing to yours with impatience. “I have to help the others load their bags onto the charter, and from what I can tell,” his eyes scan you up and down as he chortles, “don’t you have to go pack your things? So if you don’t have anything else important to say, your boy has important matters to attend to.”

The crowd migrates in clutters from the lobby to the coach parked right outside, only adding to the urgency for you to get your point across; but when you recall the events of last night, how he had so defensively proclaimed to abide by the duties of his role as the dance captain, you come to the epiphany that you really are just another roadblock in his tracks at this very moment. So, naturally, you step aside with a short bob of your lowered head.

The boy chuckles softly at your surrender, taking one large stride to enclose the gap between him and you and stroking your cheeks just briefly until the warmth of his touch subsides to his sides. “And about last night… I’m sorry if my stay made you uncomfortable. I think I was just… a bit tipsy.

Clearly, he was sober, but you’re reluctant to further the discussion without the right time and place.

“Don’t look so sad or I can’t bring myself to leave you here,” he laughs bittersweet chords to the pluck of your heartstrings, especially when you notice the lack of effort in his disingenuous grin as he crosses his arms. “Come to think of it, I seem to neglect my duties as the captain whenever I’m around you, huh? Maybe we should be more cautious of our relationship around others, don’t you think?”

In one ear, out the other; more often than not, his incessant teasing would elicit a snide remark from your intolerant state, but after the events of last night, nothing seems to be the same. Rather, his own flirtations are now construed to be poor fruitions to mask the pleas crying yet buried beneath.  

“Sorry for bothering you,” you press your lips into a thin line, “let’s talk more later.”

An immediate downturn of his lips tugs at your heavy chest, but never-minding his equivocal language, you turn away and depart to your room in deep pondrance.

Just what could you do to help the real Hoseok?

But who really is Hoseok? And did you ever come to know him?

Rather, did he?

-

Life truly has its own quirky way of doing things. One second you’re debating between the absurd albeit enticing offer in the kitchen of your house and the next second you’re already packing up your clothes on a journey bound for home.

Piles upon piles upon piles, the abundance of snacks and clothes you had brought but failed to utilize drives you to your wit’s end before you finally toss the last pair of shorts into your luggage, let out a loud, cathartic sigh, and jump into the comforts of your bed.

In reality, this position with your face buried in the depths of your pillow and your arms and legs sprawled across the soft cotton sheets would spell for doom had the occasion of falling asleep and missing the departure of your only ride home, especially since Hoseok doesn’t appear to be in his right mind nor favorable towards you against his prioritized club members enough to catch the one insignificant, missing member; fortunately for you, a good night of rest stirs you awake and incapable of slumber… plus, it turns out someone other than the names of Hoseok seeks for your attention.

Ring, ring, your phone’s vibration tunnels across the pillow to your ears.

Was Jimin asking for your assistance? Or was he wondering about the origins of your odd question earlier this morning? Could it perhaps be a message from the boys you had met and exchanged number with during camp?

Regardless of the myriad predictions, there really is only one thing that’s set in stone: it can’t possibly be Hoseok, because as much as it pains you to admit, you’re the last thing he wants to contact at this moment…

...and to your dismay, you’re right, but what really debunks your seemingly accurate theories is the name glaring from your brightly lit phone screen.

Unknown [2:06 PM] Hey, Y/N. This is Keiko. I was wondering if you have time to chat with me over dinner tonight when you return?

Straight to the point, but still lacking in details.

You can’t quite believe your eyes when they incessantly glide across the word ‘Keiko.’

What could she possibly want from you? After her ambiguous request for you during the last and only time you had interacted with the ex dance captain, you had never expected to hear from her again; in fact, to be quite frank, you had nearly forgotten about her… you had nearly forgotten Hoseok’s relations with her.

A past unrequited love? A past relationship gone wrong?

The endless possibilities tug at your chest in the familiar weighty burden you had so carelessly forgotten in the past month. You’re not exactly sure why the blur of a mystery regarding Hoseok’s relationship with Keiko pains you so, but the panic rising in your beating chest at this very moment is surely elicited by the fear of what this “conversation” could entail.

Slamming your luggage shut, you do a quick scan around your room and grab your last leftovers, but before you could roll your suitcase completely out the doorway, the sway of an unknown force rooted deep in the room keeps you from doing so; and when you glance over your shoulder to assure yourself not to linger any longer, you arrive at the epiphany of reasons residing beneath your reluctance to depart.

Because lying there on the now nicely made up bed is a couple, one asleep and one vigilant, both too vulnerable, too wary to let down their walls against the dangers of the dimming lights and the emerging night.

The longer you stand there watching, the more vividly you recall the subtle glint of his eyes—begging or pleading, you’re unsure—and your sealed lips incapable of appropriate assurance akin to a stuck zipper deserving neither the label of new nor broken; and before you know it, the desire to set things right with Hoseok rises once again within the pits of your wrenching gut.

“Y/N!” you flinch when a voice hollers at you from down the hall, causing the door to slam shut with the absence of your jutting foot. Whirling around, you find Jimin jogging towards you. “I was looking everywhere for you! We’re basically almost all ready to go in ten minutes or so and Hoseok noticed you’ve been missing for a while now, so he told me to find you.”

“Oh—” so he did remember about you “—hey, how did Keiko get my number?”

“Huh?” your peripherals catch his eyes widening into circular orbs when the two of you begin heading down the flight of stairs and he gasps in remembrance. “Oh! She asked me for your number this morning. Why? Did you not want me to? Did she text you?”

“No, that’s...” you quickly answer until your words are interjected by the sight of Hoseok standing alone in the lobby and it’s like the force field of his prevents you from moving your gaze elsewhere, “...totally fine…”

“...do you need to talk to Hoseok?” Jimin asks but proceeds to grab your luggage and head down the stairs before you. He glances over his shoulder at you and nods his head at the figure your eyes struggle to keep off of. “Here, I’ll load your bags onto the bus and you take the next ten minutes to talk it out.”

“What?” you quickly frown and shake your head, attempting to grab the bags from him in vain, “no, it’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about anyways.”

“You won’t have a chance to talk to him again anytime soon after this,” Jimin utters under his breath, gaze firmly affixed to yours. “He looks dead tired. This camp took much more of a toll on him than usual. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he won’t be hanging around with us much after this.”

Us? Does that include you?

The thought is all too daunting, you simply can’t fathom the thought of Hoseok dropping from your life without a single word or warning; because the scariest thing is… it’s much too real, too similar to something Hoseok would do.

Just. Like. That.

“Okay… I’m sorry,” you regretfully mumble, “I promise I’ll treat you and the boys to dinner someday.”

“Nah,” Jimin chuckles and heads off on his own, “bringing him back here is already enough of a favor for us.”

Gulp. Breathe. In. Out.

His words should be reassuring, yet you find them wrenching at your heart.

Is this really for the better?

Was bringing him here really the right choice, when at the end of the night, you just know Hoseok must be crawling back into the cold embrace of his mattress, shivering from what he can’t even call home, whimpering from the throbbing pain of every inch of his body and the nightmare of a camp’s threshold.

Maybe you had inflicted more pain than cure.

“...Hoseok?”

Your voice stutters amidst the thick silence of the air as you hesitantly take one step and other towards the one boy at the end of the hall, Hoseok.

Turning around, Hoseok spots you and simply arches a brow; the dark purple bags beneath the void in his eyes and the lack of vigor in comparison to his usual smug response to your calls plummet something deep within your stomach.

“Are you… done with everything?” you take one final step to enclose the distance between you two before uncomfortably hooking a hand over your right elbow and peering up at him, who gazes at you from above. “Can I help you in any way?”

Hoseok smiles gently and shakes his head, “no, everything is loaded and the camp ends here. I’m officially free of my duties as a captain and you’re officially free from that bet of ours.”

“What bet?” you let out without a thought, mind too preoccupied with the real question which loiters in your mind: why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye to me?

“The bet we made in your kitchen,” he cocks his head and flashes a crooked smile, “a euphoric kiss for your attendance at camp.”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot I wasn’t an actual member of this club…”

He grins, “and I almost forgot I wasn’t the captain of this club anymore.”

Please don’t say that.

“Hoseok…” your voice nearly cracks, eyes averting to the side in fear of impending waterworks, “I know you don’t want to talk about last night—”

“—then why are you bringing it up,” he deadpans, jaw tightening with the grinding of his teeth.

“I just…” you shake when you take a breath, “I just want to lend an ear. I think it would be helpful for you to let it all out.”

“Or do you just want to fulfill your own curiosities at the expense of my own requests?”

“What?” you immediately peer up at the sharp edges of his eyes with your own wide ones. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry… I just wanted to help…”

Silence floods the stagnating air and you’re nearly drowned with it—but not nearly as close as the effect his next words has on you.

“...can you stop prying?” he finally utters. “Can you stop mentioning it? I’m a player, don’t you remember? I only started all of… all of this because I was curious. I was intrigued by you only for a second because for once a girl wasn’t fawning over me like the rest.”

His confession plucks at your heartstrings, but your most pressing concerns lies elsewhere beyond your own state; when will he finally confide in you?

Hoseok grabs your shoulders and lightly shakes you, whether as a plea or an attempt to garner your divided attention, you’re unsure of. “I started all of this because of a dare, remember, Y/N?” his voice sounds all too desperate for you to bear. “So don’t fall too hard. Stop burying yourself into my mess and just play along without worrying, okay?”

“I don’t,” you mutter before clearing your voice and swatting his hands off you, “I don’t care, Hoseok! I don’t care how invested I am, because it’s already too late for me to back out and I don’t want to back out! I care about you, can’t you just accept that?”

Can’t you just accept me?

“Don’t you get it?” he groans, pacing in frustration. “I don’t want any help! I don’t need help. Don’t pry into my own business and stop asking Jimin and Taehyung or any of the boys about me. Get it over your head and stop investing so much time in me before you realize just how you right you were that night on our first date when you called me out on being an ass!”

The words echo along with your stunned silence. You had never seen Hoseok so infuriated before, and for the first time in a long while, you’re scared.

You’re scared he’ll drown in his own demons without your help.

You’re scared your own help will turn out to be a manifestation of your own wants over his own needs.

You’re scared the boy you love and care for isn’t the passionate captain you knew nor the renowned heartthrob around school but a enmity completely unknown.

Mostly, you’re scared because fear is the last thing you thought you would ever experience in the wake of Hoseok.

And maybe you’re too transparent or perhaps his words truly did hurt you to the point where even he could decipher, but your entire body language reclines—your eye glued to the floor, your head ducked in shame, and your body facing slightly askew—and Hoseok quickly reaches his hand out in aid.

From the top of your head down to the nape of your neck and to the stroke of your cheek, the cup of his hand brings you a step closer to him until he places a chaste kiss to your temple and retracts himself from you once again.

“Just stop worrying about me, okay? That’s the only way we can keep this…” he struggles to find the right words as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your right ear. The boy takes a deep breath and neither a sigh nor a chuckle descends from his barely parted lips, for all you hear is a weighty pant crafted of obligations. “...this thing we have going on between us. We’ll both be better of that way, alright? Even if it’s ignorant to do so. I just don’t want us to end.”

Physically, his voice drifts into the foreign wind which sweeps your grasp of time shortly afterwards; but you hear him loud and clear within the resonance of your heart, for his actions speak louder than words.

You don’t expect him to greet you, not to mention even sitting within your vicinity on the ride back… but he does. In moments when you avoid all eye contact the second his foot sets weight onto the bus, shifting towards the windows by your seat and wishing with every ounce of your will for your rather isolated choice of seating and lack of friends to go unnoticed; but he reads you like an open book. With footsteps skimming across the floor, soft yet firm enough to mark his ambitions, the boy beelines to the seat by your side. The lethargic timbre of his murmured “hey” elicits a prim response from you as he plops into the empty seat and fills the painfully heavy air of his absence.

The forecast predicts a dayful of sun, but you don’t quite realize until now, just how reliant you’ve become; for at some point in time, the sun has somehow become your everything.

You don’t expect him to spark any conversations—no, not after that discussion gone astray—and he doesn’t; but the watchful gaze of his, wandering from his chattering friends straight up ahead to eye occasional roll of your sore ankles, inquires more than you could ask for. In fact, it doesn’t take very long for his desires to bloom into fruition when, the next thing you know, he gently lifts your right leg to prop into the lap of his own and begins kneading the knots from your muscles.

“It’s fine,” you mutter through barely parted lips, attempting in vain to retract your leg when his hands firmly hold them in place.

“It’s your first bootcamp, isn’t it?” he continues to knead. “I remember how exhausted I was for my first camp. Just let me help you.”

His words sweep your own right off of your lips.

Glancing him up and down, the courage to speak doesn’t come to you until the charter enters a tunnel, blackening your sights from his soft brown hair, beautifully tan skin, and mustard tee.

“Can you stop playing around with me? Things like this mean so much more to me than what you’re asking for from us.”

The boy doesn’t answer, instead, he pauses; and after a few seconds of silence, he persists to knead for a minute longer before letting down your leg once the tunnel ends and you’re blinded by the incoming flood of sun rays.

Incapable of sight in the bright sun after a long nap, the thought of Keiko’s text remains imprinted throughout your conscious. Weighing heavily in your hands, you grab your phone and swiftly jog off the bus on a mission to inquire advice from the rest of the boys.

While Hoseok lends a hand in unloading the endless stream of camp attendees hastily lining up to grab their bags and head on home, you find the rest of the boys standing in a semicircle, conversing away and responsibly keeping watch on the slowly dwindling crowd as members of the official performance unit.

“What’s crackin’, Y/N?” Jin questions, the group following suit as they peer at you with curious eyes.

“I just,” you glance around, particularly assuring yourself of Hoseok’s distant position before whirling around and proceeding in a hush, “I just wanted to ask you guys for some advice.”

Taehyung wiggles his brows, “you need some dating advice?”

“Ooh, for Hoseok?” Jungkook adds in.

“No, it has nothing to do with him, okay? Well, sort of,” you reach out your phone to show the text to a intrigued group of boys leaning in. “Keiko wants to meet up with me.”

“...okay?” Yoongi frowns at your lack of context.

“No, I mean, she wants to meet up with me and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with Hoseok. It’s literally the only reason she would know me or even talk to me.”

“But what’s so wrong with that?”

Jimin purses his lips at Yoongi’s remark, “you think Hobi would be okay with that? With us talking behind his back, especially to his former teacher? He doesn’t even tell us anything anymore, and we used to be his closest friends.”

“Yeah, so I don’t know what to do,” you shake your head. “I want to know what Keiko needs to tell me. I feel like it’s something important that might help Hoseok…”

“...but…”

“...but I’m scared I’m just taking advantage of Hoseok’s situation for the sake of my own curiosity. I don’t want to accidentally hurt him.”

The boys exchange glances at each other, because they, too, are as abandoned in the shadows as Hoseok had kept you, yourself.

Finally, Namjoon shifts his weight, a stance demanding attention and respect, before asking, “well, do you think Hoseok is going to get any better at this point?”

To be painfully honest, the truthful answer to his question would simply and brutally be a “no.” Just as Jimin had pointed out, Hoseok carries an even more lethargic, poignant mien in him than he had prior to camp. Maybe bringing him here really is a mistake, after all, because now he seems worse than ever before.

Without dance, it’s like he’s a completely different person.

“No, I doubt he’ll be hanging around us anytime soon,” Jimin quickly answers when he notices your downcast eyes. “I don’t think it’s just me when I say: right now, Hoseok despises dance.”

Hoseok. Despises. Dance.

You never thought those three words could ever coexist.

“Then I don’t think there’s any harm in meeting with Keiko,” Namjoon elaborates. “Yes, you might be butting into someone else’s business, but from what I can tell, Hoseok isn’t just ‘someone’ to you and you aren’t just ‘someone’ to him. If you’re doing it out of good intentions, I doubt he would hold it against you for—”

—his words are cut short when everyone in the group removes their eyes off of you and darts to someone from behind you. Suddenly, a heavy arm slings over your shoulders and the rough edge of his masked voice echoes in your right ear.

“Hey, what’s with all the long face?” Hoseok feigns a laugh after glancing at you. “What’re we going on about this time?”

Rather than his untimely presence, it’s his nonchalant performance of swinging his arms over your shoulders which catches your infuriated attention. Not only is he lying to himself, yourself, and his closest friends, but now he’s acting as if he owns you, as if you two were an actual couple, as if he didn’t just tell you to your face that your relationship meant nothing more than leisure to him.

“Why do you care so much about my mood? Actually, why do you pretend to care so much?” you rebuke in spite, pushing off his hands and relishing in the sudden downturn of his lips and furrowed brows. “I thought we weren’t a thing. You told me not to be attached, so why don’t you follow your own advice?”

Your curtly remarks evoke worried albeit curious glances from the boys, but all you care about is the fury boiling under Hoseok’s poor attempt at suppressing with a smirk.

“That’s more like it,” he smugly grins, cocking his head and raising his hands defensively, “the more you push me away, the more I’ll fall. Isn’t that what you want?”

As if.

Scoffing and rolling your eyes, you shake your head and return your attention to boys before bidding them goodbye and walking off without another word to Hoseok.

There isn’t any reason nor thing for you to stay around Hoseok for, and neither does he for you; he doesn’t run after you and he doesn’t even attempt to explain himself nor demand an explanation, because to him, you simply aren’t worth the effort.

To him, you’re just a simple text away.

Hoseok, my beloved [6:56 P.M.] Well played. Let’s keep things that way.

-

Clink, clink, the glasses of wine tipping against its own fills the rather lavish room you hadn’t expected nor asked to be seated in; and while others hold their own in formal gowns and suits, you sit uncomfortably across Keiko decked out in sweatpants and a messy bun from lack of time between departure and arrival.

Dressed in a sleek black blouse and dangling earrings, Keiko remains the classy woman you had met the first time around; to others, you must seem like a child next to her.

The only perk you could scavenge from your ostracized self is having your expensive dinner, sure to empty your wallet along with college tuitions, paid by a responsible, full-time employed adult.

“So,” she takes a sip from her glass of wine, “how’re you doing?”

“He’s doing…” you quickly respond before stuttering, “a-alright.”

To your surprise, Keiko chuckles a sultry laugh as ripened as red wine. “I was asking about you, not Hoseok; but I guess you have some sort of a guess as to why I called you here, and to be completely honest with you, you’re right.”

“Oh… sorry...” you mumble, eyes wide and enraptured by her poise. “I, um, hope it’s not inappropriate of me to ask this, but why are you asking me and not the boys?”

Keiko cocks her head as if the answer was obvious enough, “because you're the closest one to him right now, are you not?”

“Emotionally? No… physically? Not really,” you frown, especially when she just chortles at you.

“Well, that's what I've deduced from what the boys have told me.”

“They told you about me?” your eyes immediately widen in panic, because for some odd reason, you want to at least appear somewhat decent from someone as respectable as Keiko; and it isn't a competition between you and her in vie for Hoseok’s attention, it's the elegant way she holds herself which has earned your utmost respect. “What… did they say?”

“Oh, nothing too much,” she chuckles with a shrug. “Don't worry, I have other reasons for my deduction.”

The vague answer intimidates you from inquiring further as your gaze becomes affixed to the empty plate splattered with leftover sauce from the now ingested steak. Instead of probing at you to answer her question, she allows you to recollect yourself and your state of mind in silence; and eventually, you do, for your train of thoughts stumble over the real reason you had agreed to this meeting tonight.

“About Hoseok…” you start, eyes lifting to meet Keiko’s, her brows raising to encourage you further. “He's still… reluctant to dance. I don't think he had the best time at camp.”

“Really? Spring boot camp was always his favorite time of the year,” she prims, but all you can do is sigh in a mix of awe and regret, wondering just how much more she knows about Hoseok than you do him. “Well, do you plan on helping him still?”

Helping him? Does she not know about his injury? Hoseok’s voice reverberates in your mind—stop prying—for a remark both raw and real is all too painful to hear and to forget.

It isn't your business neither is it your secret to reveal, especially not to someone he must hold so dearly—in both respect… and love.

“I don't get it…” you stealthily tiptoe around the subject. “Why aren't you helping him? You're much closer to him than I am. I can't do much… we're just acquaintances. It's not like we're dating.”

Your question elicits a loud intake of breath followed by a sigh as she reclines into her seat and crosses her legs, “because I can't.”

'What do you mean…?”

Her fingers begin to play with the glass of wine, swirling the drink round and round and creating whirlpools in the tips of her sleek red nails.

“Are you aware of Hoseok’s main reason for his hiatus?”

Sneakers squeaking and machine buzzing, collapse.

“Well, I can't because…”

Your line of sight subconsciously travels to your leg where you can practically see Hoseok's own, swelling and throbbing as you clutch it in plain just like he had on the blackest of nights.

Keiko looks you straight in the eye.

“...because I'm the one who caused his injury.”

Injury. His injury. Keiko. She caused it.

How did any of this make sense?

“Wait, what? Are you sure?” your brows cinch in confusion. “Maybe he… he…”

Your voice trails to nothing. What else could have evoked someone to blame themselves over something so horrid other than the truth itself?

“I pushed him too far,” she says after a long sigh, staring at the swirl of wine in her delicate fingers. “I was training him into a captain capable of handling anything that would come at him, be it pressure or stress, he has the potential to be the best we've ever had… I don't know if it was me or him and his own expectations which pushed him too far, too fast, but he crumbled.”

If you knew the old and new Hoseok correctly, the latter would be the valid reason. Hoseok pushed himself too far in the face of pressure.

And as much as you know the blame can't be held entirely by Keiko but Hoseok, himself, a part of you errs in the sudden impatience arising within you.

Crumble, she said.

The sun doesn't crumble, it sets.

“...weren't you watching over him…?” you frown at her.

“I did,” she simply nods. “He practiced day and night. There never was a single day when I entered or left the studio and Hoseok wasn't there. Sometimes I think the poor boy even slept in that sweaty old musty room.”

You let out a scoff under your breath, appalled. “And you didn't tell him to stop—”

“—you’re not a dancer, are you, Y/N? You think I can tell someone to stop doing what they love, what they’re so passionate in? You think we have it easy? That talent and a few hours a week are enough to make up for what we lack? You think he would listen to me if I told him to stop? I thought you knew him well,” Keiko rebukes, calm but reprimanding enough for you to wince. “Being a captain requires you to put in time and stress and pressure just comes with it. And even despite that, yeah, sometimes I do wonder if I was asking for too much. If he or I had said something, if he had quit a bit earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“Quit?” you articulate, narrowing your eyes at her. “I don’t have to be a dancer to know that trying to prevent an injury isn’t quitting.”

“You sound like every other person who begged me to stop when I was training to become the captain myself,” Keiko chuckles, lips pressing into a thin, curved line. “I handled the pressure. I bore all the stress. I conquered it all and I thrived, Y/N, and you and I both know how talented Hoseok is. If I could do it, he most definitely could, too. I don’t know what got to him, but something did.”

“Not everyone’s body works the same…” your words become muffled by your own lips.

“Oh?” she laughs. “You almost sound like you know him better than I have in the past four years.”

Past four years? It’s almost certain they share a history together. Your gut instincts painfully tell you so.

“Anyways, I’m not here to argue with you, Y/N. I apologize if I stepped over the line just now,” her hand reaches for yours over the table and she smiles. “I get it. To you guys, us dancers seem reckless, and I admit it, we go overboard sometimes. That’s why we, especially Hoseok, need people, like you, by our sides to tell us when enough is enough.”

Her gaze sees right through you and there’s nothing you could do other than avert your eyes to the side to prevent her from reading through your transparency. It feels like she’s telling you something, hinting at an implication, but you just can’t quite get it.

You can’t read her like she or even Hoseok does to you.

“If his injury really is the reason behind his hiatus, then why hasn’t he tried to recover? Or,” you nearly choke on your own gasp, “has… he?”

“As much as I seem to know him, Y/N, I actually can’t answer that question. I really don’t know,” she sighs. “Even I’m surprised. I thought he would bounce back. He truly loved dance. He loved it to death… but maybe he never did. I don’t know if I overestimated him. I was hoping you would know. He won’t let me anywhere near him now.”

Of course not, you bite your tongue. As much as you admire Keiko for her sheer willpower, her constant disregard for Hoseok’s well-being and even questioning his passion irks you the wrong way.

“So,” she softly utters, holding your hand to avert your gaze back to hers, “can you help me, Y/N?”

Stop prying, his voice echoes; even your deepest conscience knows Hoseok doesn’t want you to help.

“Why would I do that? We’re not close or anything. I’ll be sticking my nose into someone else’s business.”

Your remark elicits a slight scoff of disbelief from Keiko as she grins at you with furrowed brows.

“Don’t you like him? Don’t you like Hoseok, I mean?”

“W-What?” you immediately shake your head. “No, I don’t know what makes you think that or whatever the boys told you, but even if I wanted to help, I can’t.”

“Oh, but I think you can,” she leans back into her seat and crosses her arms before turning to glance out the window displaying the black silhouette of the cityscape. “In fact, you’re the only one who can. At the rate Hoseok is going, I don’t think he’ll ever return to the dance scene… but you can change that.”

Everyone seems to have expectations from you, but it doesn’t matter when the person in need of help himself refuses your aid.

But you want to help him, even if that means he won’t ever dance again.

You’ve come to realize, through trial and error, all you could wish for him is bliss.

“...what makes you think that?”

“I promise I’m not doing this to gain your favor or try to persuade you, but,” she turns away from the window and leans into the table with a smile, “I’ve seen the look in his eyes when he mentions you.”

“But… but I thought…”

...I thought you never met up with him before after his injury, is what you meant to say, but the rapid beats of your heart elicited by her confession prevents you from budging a single inch.

Maybe they really are dating and you’re just being toyed around by the both of them.

“I… I just have one question,” you blurt before your more rational self could talk you out of it; for once, you’re acting on impulse and ego, but perhaps you deserve it after everything you’ve been through for the sake of him. It’s time you do something for yourself. “...did you and Hoseok ever have a relationship?”

Keiko arches both brows at you in surprise, “a relationship?”

“As in… have you two dated before?”

Silence ensues as she ponders for a few seconds and smiles, a soft chuckle drifting from her lips, “and what would you say if I said yes? Would you dislike me? Would you not do me this favor?”

Immediately, your heart sinks and something in your stomach drops.

Ah, so it’s a yes; crestfallen for reasons unknown, you begin collecting your things.

“I’ll think about it because I want to make sure this does Hoseok more good than it does me or any of us waiting for him to take the stage again,” standing up, you continue, looking her straight in the eye, “and I’m not doing this for you because I don’t appreciate the way you demean Hoseok and his own health and efforts.”

“Then who are you doing this for?”

You frown; isn’t the answer obvious enough?

“Hoseok.”

A wide grin spreads across her lips from ear to ear as she suppresses a giddy smile, quickly grabbing your hand and squeezing it firmly, “thank you, Y/N. Really, thank you. I mean it when I say you’re the only one who can bring him out of his darkest times. I’m counting on you.”

Gradually and hesitantly, you nod, slowly turning your back on the exit to make your way out the way you made it in.

Step by step, they gain momentum until you find yourself marching out of the restaurant on a mission to brew a storm in search of the world’s ends, for the hidden sun is long due for its rise.

[soobmint]

when the ice begins to thaw | kang taehyun [f] ice prince! au, 10.4k words

s u m m a r y : The rumors of the Ice Prince, Kang Taehyun, that run throughout the kingdom of Glacies are nothing short of terrifying. Known as a spoiled boy who does nothing but take advantage of the horrors bestowed upon the kingdom by his grandfather, the late king, Taehyun is feared and despised by nearly all of his subjects. When you decide to take matters into your own hands as the kingdom’s greatest thief by plotting to steal the crown that harnesses the prince’s unjustly earned powers, you are surprised to find out that perhaps the Ice Prince is not exactly who everyone fears him to be.

c o n t e n t s : kang taehyun x fem reader, ice prince! taehyun, thief! reader, lots and lots of fluff, very mild angst, features enhypen’s 02 line!!

t a g l i s t : @honeyju @chanluster @tyonfs @magicalstellar

n o t e : this oneshot is my contribution to the five princes collaboration! you can find the masterlist for the collab here. check out the other participants’ blogs too! [ @bffsoobin, @juunnies, @honeyju, @gyuluster ]. this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you guys enjoy it!

FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS THOUGHT TO BE THE GREATEST THIEF AROUND, YOU WEREN’T VERY QUICK ON YOUR FEET. 

It had been nearly half an hour since you had set your way across the icy bridge that led to the palace, nothing but the cloak of night to conceal you and your companions. You had studied the palace’s floor plan for months leading up to your mission, but for some reason, during all that time you hadn’t really thought of how difficult it would be to cross this god forsaken bridge. Your feet nearly came out from under you with every step you took, and it was so narrow that the four of you had to walk in a single file line.

 Speaking of your companions, the three boys that accompanied you were proving to be an obstacle to your success all on their own.

 “Jake, you have to keep up.”

 You turned to see Jay, your self-proclaimed “second-in-command,” pulling Jake along by the wrist. The former liked to brag and say that he was among the most elite group in the village, boasting a great air of bravery and courage. However, now that he was actually in the face of danger, he seemed to be the most cowardly out of them all. Sunghoon, the brains of the operation, held up the rear of the group, shaking his head in exasperation at his companions.

 You sighed, bringing the group to a halt as you turned to face them, arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t feel as though I should have to remind you, boys, but we’re not here to play,” You said, giving Jake and Jay the heat of your glare. “Jake, if you’re too scared to help out, I suggest you back out now before it’s too late. Oh, and Jay, leave the leading to me, would you?”

 While Jay mimicked your voice in the most obnoxious way possible, no doubt completely disregarding what you had just asked of him, Jake ripped his arm free of Jay’s grasp and puffed up his chest. “Me, scared? Oh please, Y/N. I’m flattered that you think about me enough to care, but you’re looking at one of Glacies’ greatest rising legends! The future generations will tell stories about me, no doubt.” He threw you a careless wink, and you had to fight back the impulse to cackle out loud at how ridiculous he looked. “And you’ll get to say you had the pleasure of knowing me. Or perhaps even the pleasure of having courted me as well?”

 From where he stood behind him, Sunghoon smacked the back of Jake’s head. That seemed to be enough to shut him up nicely.

 “Anyways,” You continued, “We’re losing moonlight. I needn’t remind you of the fact that if we don’t make it out of here with the crown tonight, we’ll likely never get to see justice restored to our kingdom. Understood?”

 “Perfectly,” Jay said, his voice strained in forced submission to your authority. You merely rolled your eyes—you were quite used to him and his attitude after spending nearly your entire life with him and the other two that accompanied you.

 “She’s right, you know.” Sunghoon spoke for the first time since the four of you had set out on your assignment. You began to move forward again, the rest of the group following close behind. “The palace security is weaker tonight because the crown prince sent an assembly of guards to accompany the prince of Regna Terrae back to his home. The odds of us finding another gap in security like this are—”

 “Incredibly slim, yes, we know,” Jake said. “You’ve only told us about twelve dozen times.”

 “Maybe if I thought you were actually listening to me, I wouldn’t feel the need to repeat myself so often.”

 “Well maybe if you weren’t such a pain in my—”

 “Shh.” You held up your hand as you came to a stop again, after having finally set foot off the slippery bridge and onto the snow-covered walkway that led to the huge gates made of solid ice. Some might have tried to simply break through the ice to earn entry to the palace, but you knew better.

 This was no regular formation of ice—it was ice forged by the crown’s magic.

 You looked around for any sign of stray guards. If your team’s predictions had been correct, the guards would have been switching their stations at this time. You had approximately four minutes and fifty-three seconds to get through the gates before the rotation was settled, so there was no time to lose.

 You glanced behind you, noticing that the boys had all replaced their teasing and playful mannerisms with serious gazes hardened by determination. With a single nod from you, everything was set into motion. Jay handed you the rope and hook from his bag, and you wasted no time in tossing it over the gate, pulling it tightly until you were certain that it had successfully latched onto the top. Jake knelt in front of you, folding his hands before extending them towards you. You placed your foot in his hands, waiting for him to give you a boost.

 “Are you sure you can do this by yourself?” He asked.

 “Yes, I’m positive,” You assured him. “You guys need to head to the far side of the wall and wait for me there. Sunghoon knows what to do if I’m in danger, but everything will be fine. Now hurry up and boost me.”

 After a moment longer of hesitation, Jake thrusted his hands up while you jumped up at the same time, reaching out to grab the rope while you planted your feet against the icy gate. You let out a tiny sigh of relief when your feet didn’t slide off or cause you to fall—the boots that Sunghoon had designed to grip the ice were proving to be just as effective as he had claimed. You pulled yourself up the rope, moving as quickly as possible without letting your feet slip.

 You soon found yourself perched at the top of the gate, your huff of relief turning into a cloud in the cold air. The view was nothing short of magnificent; fountains with frozen displays of various animals and flora, a grove of trees painted blue with ice and frost, and the castle. If you had the leisure to simply stop and observe the spiraling towers made of crystal ice, the beautiful clouds of eternal snow that remained stationary above the palace, the giant snowflake patterns that were imprinted along each outer wall, you would have stayed there just looking for ages.

 But you knew that sightseeing was not on your agenda. When you glanced over your shoulder, you were happy to see that the boys had already left for their station, leaving you on your own. It took you no time to spring into action. You jumped down from the top of the gate, the impact of hitting the ground sending an echo of pain up your legs and to your core, but you quickly shook it off and sprinted towards the outer wall of one of the towers. Your informant from within the palace had sent word that the window you were about to climb into was the best place of entry. It was in a distant hallway that was close enough to the throne room for you to have easy access to the crown, but far enough away from where the guards were stationed that the chance of them being alerted to your entry was small.

 You threw your grappling hook up again, this time latching it on the sill of the open window. Without Jake’s boost, it took you a bit longer to climb the rope, but you were no amateur when it came to breaking and entering. Soon enough, you had dropped down into the stairway that lied beyond the window, thanking your lucky stars yet again for Sunghoon and his slip-proof boots.

 Your footsteps echoed throughout the walls of ice, and you bit the inside of your cheek, taking care to make your steps as soft as possible. The past months, you had done practically nothing aside from memorize the floorplan of the palace, but you couldn’t help how nervous you were beginning to feel. This was nothing like when you snuck into the kitchen at the local tavern to snatch some food for the hungry kids, or when you broke into the overstock building for the tailors to grab a few winter coats for those who needed them.

 This was the castle, and you were there to steal the crown. Not just for your own good, but for the good of everyone else in the Kingdom of Glacies.

 When you finally reached the throne room, your heart was practically in your throat. Typically the cool headed one of your band of thieves, this feeling of pure anxiety was something new to you. With a shaky breath to calm your nerves, you peeked around the corner to take a look at what awaited you in the throne room.

 There were two thrones at the far end of the room, made of spiraling ice spires and decorated with intricately detailed snowflakes that would never melt. One was a bit taller than the other—the King’s throne, no doubt—while the other didn’t reach quite as high in the air, but that didn’t make it any less marvelous of a sight to behold. The real piece of beauty in the dimly lit room of ice, however, was the pedestal that sat just between the two thrones which held the giant, sparkling crown made of ice and snow.

 It was the King’s crown; the bane of every Glacian’s existence. And it just so happened to be what you planned to walk out of the palace with that night.

 Stationed right in front of the crown, two guards stood, frozen just like the pillars of ice throughout the room. You bit your lip, growing increasingly worried as you waited for your cue to move in towards the crown.

 “Argh! You’ll never catch me, you scum!”

 Never before had you wanted to sock Jake in the face so badly as you did in that moment. He had been instructed to create a diversion, but it sounded more like he was a pirate from the Kingdom of Nymphe. His shouts spilled in through the open window right behind the thrones, filling the otherwise silent palace with his voice. If you could have trusted that Sunghoon would have been loud enough to even be heard, you would have asked him to do it instead. He was the only one who even pretended to listen to you.

 “What’s that? You think you can chase me down? With those skinny legs? Ha!”

 There was a loud bang, and you decided in that moment that when you got back to your village, you would kick Jake out of your team and encourage him to join the theatrics group instead of pursuing this line of work. Not because he was a good or compelling actor, but because he was so outlandishly obnoxious that he would fit right in.

 The guards glanced at one another, but neither of them moved from their stations. They probably assumed—or hoped—that someone else would be taking care of the lunatic outside.

 Until they heard Jake shout, “Take that!” which was followed by a large crash, and another slew of empty threats. The guards quickly ran out one of the back entrances of the throne room, finally giving you your chance to move forward.

 You were light on your feet, not even making a sound as you dashed across the iced floor. With one leap, you skipped up the few steps that led to the crown. It was even more stunning close up, just as alluring as all the stories surrounding it had claimed. Blue jewels frosted over were embedded in the crown, which was made of solid ice, just like the palace that it sat in. The most mesmerizing part about it, however, was the flurry of never-ending snow that surrounded it, as though it were a part of its own atmosphere, separate from the rest of the world.

 Your heart stormed within your chest, and you thought it might burst right out of you. Everything you had prepared for had led to this moment, but now that it was finally here, you were beyond terrified. But you were ready.

 You stretched your hands out towards the crown, but before you could even feel its icy surface beneath your gloved hands, you felt someone’s body press flush against yours from behind, one arm holding you around your shoulders, and the other pressing the edge of an ice dagger against your throat.

 Heart in your stomach, you were silent for a few moments. Someone had caught you. It was over. It was all over. You prayed that Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon had gotten away safely, that only you would have to pay the price for trying to seek justice for your kingdom.

 You had practically written your own eulogy in your head when you heard the person speak, their breath tickling the back of your neck as they tightened the ice cold grip they had on you.

 “You know, it is wrong to take something that isn’t yours.”

 A man’s voice. You could tell right away, and his words made your blood boil. Perhaps you should have bitten your tongue, but you couldn’t keep the venomous words from leaving your mouth.

 “It’s not wrong to take back something that was yours to begin with, is it?”

 “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. Does this crown belong to you?”

 “It doesn’t just belong to me,” You seethed, “It belongs to every single Glacian, those alive and those who have passed, and I’m here to take it back.”

 With that, you quickly snatched the knife from the man’s hand and spun around, pressing the blade against his throat this time, grabbing onto the front of his shirt to hold him in place.

 When you saw his face, you knew you were a goner for sure.

 Piercing blue eyes, a sharp jawline, blonde hair so light, it was almost white. His skin seemed to be made of ice, and his lips were set in an amused grin, one of his perfectly shaped brows arched upward.

 You were holding the edge of a dagger against the neck of Kang Taehyun, the Ice Prince himself.

 With the simple flick of his wrist, the dagger in your hand dissolved into snow, falling from your grasp in an instant.

 His eyes drew you in and he held you with his gaze; frozen, unable to move, a fistful of his white sleepshirt still held within your fist. Your imagination began to run wild as you tried to predict what would happen next. Based off of what you had heard about the prince, you expected him to turn you to ice right then and there, perhaps preserving you in his room full of iced prisoners that he was rumored to have, or maybe he would just shatter you to bits and pieces right away, like a glass smashed against a stone floor.

 You decided to take your last shot at doing what you had gone there to do.

 You quickly shook yourself from the prince’s grip, pushing him back onto the icy floor. When he no longer had a hold on you, you lunged towards the crown, hearing Taehyun shout, “Wait!” before the tips of your fingers barely touched one of the crown’s jewels. When you made contact with the crown, you felt a sharp pain in your neck, and with great force, you were thrown back onto the ice, landing right next to the prince himself.

 The pain was spreading from your neck to the rest of your body, like frost creeping up blades of grass. You pressed your hand against your neck and couldn’t hold back a gasp when you saw blood covering your palm.

 Before you knew it, Taehyun was leaning over you, gently cupping your neck in his hands. You closed your eyes, certain that he was about to strangle you for your vain attempt at destroying the crown. His fingers were like icicles against your skin; smooth, strong, and deathly cold.

 But he didn’t strangle you. He didn’t even squeeze your neck or try to block your airways at all. Instead, he lightly brushed his cold fingers over your skin. As he did so, you could feel the pain melt from your body.

 “There you go,” He said softly. He helped you back to your feet, and you opened your eyes, pressing your hand against the place where your wound had been just moments before. There was not a trace of blood left in sight.

 “What was that?” You whispered, holding Taehyun’s gaze.

 Before he could answer, you heard three familiar voices fill the chilly throne room. With eyes round as saucers, you peeked over the Prince’s shoulder to see Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay being dragged in by not one, two, or even three—but five palace guards. Where said guards had even come from, you had not a clue.

 There was, however, one thing you knew for sure: your plan had failed, and the price of failure was going to be your life.

 Or at least, you thought it would be, before the prince saved you.

 You swallowed, wishing that you could have at least seen your companions walk free. This whole mission was your idea, after all. You alone should have been held responsible for the failure. Heart racing, you grasped at endless threads of half-strung ideas that wove in and out of your mind, trying desperately to figure out some way to save the boys.

 “Please,” you said, your eyes meeting Taehyun’s, “Let them go. I drug them here; they have nothing to do with this. You can turn me to ice, kill me, do whatever it is that you desire. Just let them go, please.”

 “Y/N, don’t,” Sunghoon said firmly, but you ignored him, keeping your eyes fixated on the prince.

 Taehyun’s eyes softened, his brows knitting together, almost as if he were hurt by your pleas. He was being just as cautious as you were—perhaps even more so. “I have no intentions of harming you or your friends, my lady. In fact, the desires of my heart are quite the opposite of what you assume them to be.”

 You raised a brow. “Please, enlighten me of your true intentions then, Ice Prince.”

 “I want to help you.”

 “Oh, come on,” Jay groaned. You shot a glare that would freeze any normal man, but alas, Jay was far from normal, so he continued to speak. “Y/N, don’t listen to a word this prick says. If he wanted to help his people, he would have done so by now.”

 Although you wanted to cut out his tongue from how annoyed you were by Jay’s habit to speak up during the most inappropriate times, you knew that your friend had a point. The people of Glacies had been driven to desolation and poverty by the late king’s actions, while in your eyes, the rest of the royal family did nothing but sit idly by and watch it all happen.

 But you had just seen a side of the prince that was entirely different from every story you had ever been told about him. When your life was on the line, he didn’t kill you or laugh mercilessly as he watched the life leave your body. He had saved you.

 Taehyun turned to face your friends, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. The prince motioned for the guards to release their holds on your friends. They did as they were told, and the three boys were much too shocked by Taehyun’s instructions to do anything but stand there, frozen, keeping their eyes glued to the prince as he spoke once more.

 “I understand why you’re here,” He said, glancing over his shoulder at the crown. He locked eyes with you for a split second before he looked back at the boys. “I want the same thing you do. But I’m afraid that there’s no way for you to achieve your goal by simply taking the crown. It’s far more complicated.”

 “What do you mean you ‘want the same thing’ we do?” Jake finally spoke after regaining some sensibility—though he never had all that much to begin with, in your opinion. “Do you even truly know what we are here for?”

 “You want to destroy the crown and restore the kingdom to its former state of balance,” Taehyun said. “Am I correct?”

 “It’s not just that,” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his cool, calculating eyes drifting between you and Taehyun, as if he expected the prince to turn around and attack you at any given moment. “We want to undo all the pain and suffering your family has caused us. Do you even know how desolate your people have become while you’ve wasted away in your palace for the past two decades, Your Highness?”

 Taehyun frowned, casting his eyes down to his feet. “I’m well aware. I know it may not look like it, but I’ve been doing everything I can to help reverse the pain my family has caused our kingdom. But I realized that I can’t do it alone.”

 He turned to face you then, and you were surprised to find yourself drawn to his piercing eyes rather than being struck down by fear. His gaze was urgent, but it was gentle.

 “I need you to help me.”

 “No. Absolutely not.” You tore your eyes from Taehyun to glare at Jake, who had decided once again to speak out of turn. “Y/N, you can’t trust him! Don’t do it.”

 You knew where Jake was coming from, but you couldn’t help but feel as though Taehyun was telling the truth. And even if the prince were lying, you would probably never have the chance to get this close to the crown again. Even then, it was clearly impossible for you to touch the crown, as you had nearly died trying to do so just moments before.

 You had no choice. You were going to stay with Taehyun.

 “I just have one condition,” You said, ignoring the objections that flew from the lips of your friends. “You let them go. Now.”

 “Of course,” Taehyun said without a moment’s hesitation. “I have no intentions of keeping anyone here against their will. Yourself included. But if you truly want to destroy the crown, I need you to stay with me. Just for a few days.”

 You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on his. “Alright. But the moment I sense that you’re lying to me, Your Highness, not even the four princes of the surrounding kingdoms will be able to save you from my wrath. Understood?”

 Perhaps you were just seeing things, but you could have sworn that you saw the prince smile when he said, “Perfectly.”

 -

 WHEN YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, THERE WAS A NOTE ON YOUR BEDSIDE TABLE.

 Well, it wasn’t your bedside table, but rather the one in the bedroom Taehyun had lent to you for the duration of your stay. The night before, against all their complaints, you had sent Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon back to the village with instructions to search for you if you didn’t return in a week’s time. After they had left, you wanted to talk to Taehyun right away, but he had disappeared from your sight, leaving you with a guard who said that the Prince had gone to bed, and that you were encouraged to do so as well.

 You stretched your arms above your head, squinting in the morning sunlight that slipped through the curtains, and picked up the note from the table.

 I hope you found the room suitable for resting. When you wake, put something on from the closet in your room then come to the dining hall for breakfast, if you’d like. One of the maids will escort you there.

 —Taehyun

 You sighed, folding the note up and setting it back on the table. After another good stretch, your feet met the cold floor and you slumped over to the large closet, throwing the doors open. Your eyes were met with dresses in varying lengths and shades of blues and periwinkles, and shoes to match them all. A great sigh left you at the sight—you did not wear dresses. But the pants and shirt you had come to the palace in were caked with mud and sweat, so you had no choice but to change, and it wasn’t like you had many options.

 Begrudgingly, you searched through all the hanging gowns, finally settling on a long sleeved, ankle-length frosty blue dress made of lace that held subtle snowflake patterns throughout the skirt. It was the most practical looking one amidst all the others, but you still found yourself already growing annoyed at the lack of freedom you felt in the skirt. You put on the pair of shoes that went along with the gown and stopped by the mirror, running your hands through your tangled hair before you finally stepped out of the bedroom.

 A maid was waiting outside the door, just as Taehyun had said she would be. You followed her down the stairs of ice, hugging your arms across your chest as you shivered from the cold.

 “I know this is the Ice Prince’s palace, but does it have to be so cold?” You asked, your teeth chattering. There was no response from the maid as you went down the last flight of stairs and found yourself walking into a large dining room, with a glass table in the center of the room and a dozen chairs surrounding it. The floor was frosted over, and snowflakes fell from the ceiling, though they melted away as soon as they hit the floor. Only the seat at the head of the table was occupied—Taehyun sat there, dressed nicely in a dark blue suit, his hair parted neatly to the side. He smiled when he saw you, motioning for you to take the seat beside of him.

 You sat down slowly, taking great care to cross your legs so you didn’t accidentally expose too much of yourself. Taehyun eyed you curiously as you reached for the cup of tea that a servant had sat down for you.

 “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be a little bit uncomfortable,” He said, sliding a plate of fruits and breakfast pastries towards you. You accepted them gratefully, noticing just how hungry you were now that you could smell food. “Is it because of the dress?”

 You nodded, swallowing the grape you had tossed into your mouth before responding. “Dresses were not meant to be worn by thieves, Your Highness.”

 He hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not sure if I would classify you as a thief, my lady. I personally find the term ‘vigilante’ more suitable.”

 You paused, the piece of chocolate bread that you had pinched off frozen halfway to your mouth. You set it down, narrowing your eyes at Taehyun. “What do you know about me?”

 He smiled, taking a sip from his own teacup. “I know what I’ve heard. You are Y/N, the greatest thief throughout all of Glacies—some would even say throughout all the Five Kingdoms. You know this kingdom like the palm of your hand, and you’re extremely good at not getting caught. Unless, of course, you find yourself in my home.”

 You scowled, looking away from him as your cheeks grew warm.

 He laughed for a moment, but his tone grew quieter when he spoke again. “I also know that you almost never steal for self-gain. You take for yourself what is necessary for survival, but the rest of your plunders go to the starving and impoverished people of our kingdom. You take from those who have more than enough and give to those who having nothing at all.”

 To say you were speechless would have been an understatement. You were under the impression that the prince despised his people, just as his father and grandfather had before him. But now you were to believe that he knew of your existence, long before you had even made an attempt to steal the crown?

 You poked at the food on your plate, your appetite suddenly gone as your mind churned with questions.

 “Well, since you seem to know so much about me, allow me to inquire about yourself, Your Highness,” you said, setting your fork down and folding your hands in your lap.

 He nodded with unabashed enthusiasm, scooting forward in his seat. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

 You held up three fingers. “I have three questions. One—what happened when I tried to touch the crown last night?”

 “Ah,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “Well, as you’re well aware, my grandfather channeled all of the kingdom’s magic into that crown. It’s the most powerful object throughout all the kingdom.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

 He nodded, pressing his lips together. “Well, when my grandfather had the great spell cast upon the crown, it also came with a protective curse. Only those with royal blood flowing through their veins are able to touch the crown, and anyone else who attempts to do so . . . well.” He gestured to your neck, where the magic cut had sliced through your skin. “You saw what happens.”

 “And you have healing powers, apparently,” you said, running your hands against the smooth skin of your neck, double checking just to make sure that no trace of the injury was left there.

 “Not exactly. Because all of the kingdom’s magic is held within the crown, I have access to all the ice magic in the kingdom,” Taehyun explained. “Healing just happens to be one of those powers, among ice manipulation, the ability to turn things into ice, control of the snowstorms, the power to generate snowstorms, the power to plant things in frozen ground. . . you get the picture, I assume. Because of the overwhelming amount of capabilities I’ve been granted due to my grandfather’s spell, I’m not sure what my actual ability is.”

 You nodded once, slowly, trying to keep up with the influx of information. You put one of your fingers down, then said, “Question two. I know you’re the Ice Prince, but why in all the five kingdoms is it absolutely freezing in here? Can’t we start a fire or something for a bit of warmth?”

 Taehyun laughed, although you struggled to see what was so funny as a shiver went up your spine. “Another lovely perk of the crown’s magic; because my entire being is so reliant upon its powers, I’m quite weak on my own. My body temperature can’t go above a certain degree, or I’ll perish. So I’m afraid we must keep it quite cold in here for the time being.”

 “It seems like this crown is doing you more harm than good,” You muttered, slightly disappointed by his answer as you were hoping to garner a bit of extra warmth. You shook it off, putting another finger down and leaving only one remaining up in the air. “Last question. Why do you want to help us, and why am I the right person to help you?”

 “That’s two questions in one, isn’t it?”

 You rolled your eyes, and Taehyun quickly wiped the teasing smirk off his face, his expression growing grim as he prepared to answer your final question—or questions, as the prince had been so kind to point out.

 “I know it doesn’t compare to the pain that the rest of our people have gone through—yourself included—but the crown’s spell has done more harm than good for my family as well,” Taehyun said.

 “How so?” You asked.

 “As I explained before, those of us with royal blood are incredibly reliant upon the crown,” he began. “Because of this, we aren’t able to be far from it, or we become incredibly weak, and eventually, we will die.”

 Your eyes went wide at that, your mind racing. You hadn’t thought of the possibility that the crown could be harming the royal family at all, especially not in such a deadly way. “So, have you never left the palace?”

 He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “Not even once.” He sighed, bringing his eyes back up to yours. “My sister left us, a few years after my grandfather died and a few years before my father passed. She fell in love with the stable boy, and they decided to run away. At the time, we knew that we would become weak without the crown. But we didn’t know how weak we would be. Two weeks after their great escape, the stable boy returned. And my sister. . . she was dead. My father had the stable boy put to death immediately upon his return.”

 You covered your mouth with your hand, stifling the gasp that threatened to slip past your lips. The royal family was so isolated from the rest of the kingdom, that none of you had even heard of the princess’ passing.

 “So then, you’ve been alone all this time, since your father passed?” You asked, your voice quiet and careful.

 He nodded, his eyes shining with tears that never fell. “Correct. And that is why, now more than ever, I want to reconnect with the people my family has driven to desolation. I know how harmful it has been for our kingdom since we have kept all of the magic to ourselves. You haven’t been able to farm, to use the magic for yourselves, or even turn the ice into water for necessary use. By hoarding all the magic to ourselves, we have forced our people into poverty. I want to right what we have done wrong. And that is where you come in, my lady.”

 “That’s the second part of my last question,” You said, pushing your plate back so you could lean forward against the table. “Why do you need my help?”

 He smiled, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, the action so rushed you had barely registered its occurrence. “I’ve spent the past two years studying the origins of the spell on the crown. There’s supposedly a cave near the border between Glacies and Terrae where my grandfather traveled to have the spell cast, and in order to break the spell, I have to take it back there. And, according to my sources, nobody in the land knows their way around the caves quite as well as you do.”

 “I’m flattered, although I am quite curious to know who’s been saying such kind words about me behind my back,” you said, wishing you knew who Taehyun had been in communication with that would know of your occupation and skillsets. “So, what I am gathering is this; you want me to guide you to this cave and help you break the spell in order to finally have the magic distributed back into the kingdom?”

 “Precisely. Only if you are willing to do so, of course.”

 It was your turn to smile then as you stood to your feet, extending your hand towards him for a shake. “You needn’t ask me twice, Your Highness. When do we leave?”

 He stood as well, his smile mirroring your own as he took your hand in his and shook it. “We head out first thing tomorrow morning, my lady. Until then, let us prepare. Together.”

 -

 YOU AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO THE SOUND OF A CRACKLING FIRE.

 Beneath your face was something warm and soft, but not quite as soft as the pillow you had slept upon the night before. When your eyes fluttered open, you were surprised to see that you had fallen asleep in the drawing room, the map you and Taehyun had spent all day studying spread out on the table before you, and your head resting upon his shoulder.

 You quickly sat up, brushing your hands through your hair in an attempt to fix the wild strands. Taehyun was already awake, smiling at you as you looked away, cheeks growing warm.

 “Did you sleep well?” He asked. It was still early in the morning—so early that the sun had not even risen yet, leaving the room bathed in the predawn darkness.

 You shrugged, daring to look back at him only to see him smirking at you in the dark. “Well enough, I suppose,” you mumbled, your eyes finally landing on the source of the sound you had awoken to. In the corner of the room, Taehyun had gathered a pile of logs and started a small fire atop them, casting a soft orange glow upon the room made of ice. You gasped, turning back towards the prince. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead and cheeks, and you noticed that his breaths were much more labored than they had been before.

 “Taehyun, what are you thinking?” You asked, grabbing his arm firmly. “Go put that out. Now.”

 “You were shivering,” He said, refusing to let his eyes meet yours. “I didn’t want to see you suffer. It’s the least I could do after all you have been through because of us—if I can suffer in your place, I will do so gladly.”

 You sighed in exasperation, grasping his hand in your own. He looked at you then, eyes wide from the unexpected contact. “Your Highness, you have been doing everything within your power so far to right what has been wrong for so long. I refuse to let you blame yourself and cause yourself any form of pain for something that has always been out of your control. In order for us to finish this, we must do so together. Now, go put that fire out or I will be forced to find a way to do it myself. And I will have you know that my methods are not usually the safest.”

 He sighed, finally giving in as he raised his hand, a gust of icy wind blowing past your face and killing the fire on the far side of the room. You sighed in relief, giving his hand a squeeze before you let it go.

 “Thank you,” he whispered. “I do not feel as though I deserve your kindness nor your understanding, but I am grateful to be receiving it regardless.”

 “Everyone deserves kindness and understanding, Your Highness. Especially you.”

 After that, the two of you grabbed a quick breakfast from the dining hall and gathered all your supplies from the drawing room before you threw on a thick cloak, allowing Taehyun to lead you out into the snow and to the stables. He introduced you to the reindeer named Atlas that would be pulling your sled, and then led you into the stable where the sled was stored in order for the two of you to finish gathering a few last-minute supplies before you were to head out on your quest.

 While Taehyun began throwing things into the back of the sled, you became distracted by a wall strung with weaponry. A quiver of arrows caught your eye, and you reached up to pull a single arrow out, observing it closely.

 “This looks like something Jake would be interested in,” you mused, twirling the arrow between your fingertips before you set it back in its place. “He’s been trying to improve his archery.”

 Perhaps it was your imagination, but when you looked back at Taehyun, you could have sworn you saw his smile falter, at least for a moment. He shook it off though, throwing a sack of food into the back of the sled before he asked, “So, you and this Jake guy. How long have you been courting?”

 You nearly choked on the stable’s air, throwing your hand against your chest in shock. “I’m sorry, what?”

 He raised a brow, turning to face you fully. “You are courting him, aren’t you? He seemed to be concerned for you in a way that went deeper than friendship, from what I was able to observe.”

 “Oh, please. Jake flirts with anyone who even bats an eye in his direction. We are not in a relationship.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the mere thought. “The only time I ever touch that man is when I’m trying to slap some sense into him—and I mean that quite literally.”

 Taehyun laughed, almost as though he were relieved, while he began to tighten the reins that kept Atlas anchored to the sled. “Would you ever consider courting him? If he asked you to, of course.”

 “He has asked, and I’ve never considered saying anything other than no.” You picked up the pile of blankets one of the servants had left by the sled and lifted it over the edge, making sure they landed right in the middle of the bench where the two of you were to be seated. “He is not my type.”

 Taehyun leaned back against the sled, the slight smirk you had grown accustomed to seeing taking over his features once again. “Well, what exactly is your type, my lady?”

 You went still, not sure why his question made your stomach flutter like a disturbed nest of bluebirds. You had never really given this much thought before, but now that he had asked you, your mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of cold hands and warm smiles, icy eyes and flushed cheeks, strong arms and gentle words.

 You turned away from him before you spoke, trying your best to be nonchalant. “I think I’d like to find someone that I understand more than anyone else. Somebody that the rest of world may see as cold and brittle, but someone I know to be warm and soft on the inside.”

 When there was nothing but silence after your words, you dared to glance back over your shoulder at the prince. Upon doing so, you were more than a little bit happy to see that you had made him just as flustered as he had made you, with his cheeks and nose painted cherry red—and not just from the cold.

 He cleared his throat, biting his lip to keep his smile from being too obvious. “Good to know. If I ever meet someone who I think would meet those standards, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”

 “Oh, please do,” You said, glad that the tense silence was thawing. “And quickly if you don’t mind. The elders in my community remind me at every passing chance that my childbearing years will be over before I know it, since that’s apparently all that matters.”

 That earned an even bigger laugh from him, which caused to you giggle in return. When he smiled at you again, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in his eyes. But who could blame you when they sparkled like freshly fallen snow beneath the morning sunlight?

 “I’ll keep that in mind, my lady.” He hoisted himself into the sled and extended his hand out towards you, his brilliant smile never once falling from his face as he said, “Now, what do you say we go and restore this kingdom to its former glory? I believe it’s long overdue.”

 -

 THE SLEIGH RIDE THROUGH THE KINGDOM HAD BEEN FAIRLY PEACEFUL, FOR THE MOST PART. Taehyun had the reins and was guiding Atlas through the snow-capped mountains while you held the map and directed him, although you could practically navigate your way throughout the kingdom with your eyes closed, no doubt.

 The scenery was beautiful in some ways. Trees weighed down by ice coated branches, casting rainbows across the ground as the sunshine reflected through them. The deep snow covered the ground, coating the entire landscape in a blanket of endless white. You sighed, perhaps a bit too loudly as you gained Taehyun’s attention.

 “What could possibly be weighing so heavy on your mind to earn such a heavy sigh, my lady?”

 You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that took over your lips at his jest. “I’m just tired of all the ice, I suppose. It’s so suffocating. It kills all the beautiful things and leaves us with nothing in return but cold.”

 “That’s not how I see it though,” Taehyun said, holding onto the reins with one hand so he could keep the other around your shoulders, making sure you didn’t fall out of the sled as you crossed over a particularly bumpy patch of ground.

 “What do you mean?” You asked, willing your expression to remain steadfast lest you reveal how flustered you were by Taehyun’s physical contact.

 He smirked, and you cursed yourself internally, knowing that perhaps the faint flush in your cheeks had given you away after all.

 “I mean, I see the ice as more of a new beginning than an ending,” He explained. “Of course, it does freeze everything over for a while, but it thaws eventually. And when it does, everything starts all over again. The rivers start running, the flowers begin to bloom, the animals come out of their sleep. Everything begins again, until it is time to freeze once more.”

 “Well, that sounds nice in theory, my dear prince, but I am afraid there’s something you are forgetting,” You said.

 “And what is that?”

 “This is the Kingdom of Glacies. Well, the version your grandfather created, that is.” The smile fell from your lips. “The ice here never thaws.”

 “Maybe the kingdom is still waiting for its new beginning,” He said. Gently, he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards his. He smiled then, the action alone so bright and warm, you were surprised the snow didn’t melt right off the trees.

 “The kingdom may still be waiting for its new beginning,” He whispered, “But I think I have found mine.”

 You were speechless. Never in a million different lifetimes would you have even dared to imagine the Prince of Glacies saying such sweet words to you. Unsure of how to respond, you cleared your throat and looked away, afraid your face would melt right off at this rate. You heard the sound of rushing water not too far off, and you glanced over to see a small spring beneath a gentle waterfall.

 “We should stop there to let Atlas drink,” you suggested, leaning forward to pet the back of the reindeer. “It would be nice for us to stretch our legs too.”

 Taehyun obliged, leading Atlas over towards the spring. You were more than happy to jump out from the back of the sled and stretch your legs, and the view was nothing short of spectacular. As you drew closer to the border between Glacies and Terrae, there were a few patches of green grass peeking through the snow, and some bodies of water—like this spring—were unfrozen. Seeing the rushing body of water made you think of what Taehyun had said to you just moments ago, and you felt your heart flutter once again.

 You nearly flinched in shock when you felt him slip his fingers between yours, gripping your hand tightly.

 He smiled, running his thumb along the back of your hand. “Care to go for a stroll?”

 You nodded, deciding to push past your nervous feelings by taking the lead and pulling him along behind you. You were both quiet as you walked, taking careful steps over the snowy grass and onto the rocks that led up towards the waterfall. When you reached the fall, you stuck your hand beneath it. It was cold, of course, but you were mesmerized by how it sparkled, dots of the afternoon sun shining through the beads of water. The pressure of the waterfall was fairly low—no stronger than a drizzle of rain. The water first hit the slab of stone that the two of you were standing on before it cascaded down into another, smaller waterfall, which led into the spring that Atlas was drinking from.

 “Do you like it here?” Taehyun asked, watching the way your eyes glowed as you let the water fall between your fingers.

 You looked back at him, smiling brightly. “I love it. Don’t you?”

 He nodded, glancing up at the falls then back at you. “It’s beautiful.”

 He looked down at your hand in his for a moment, and then he gently tugged on it, causing to stumble a few steps closer to him. You raised a brow, clearly confused, but didn’t pull away.

 “How about here?” He asked.

 You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Sure. I like it here as well.”

 He swallowed, gathering all the courage from every corner of his soul before he took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw while he kept the other tightly intertwined with your own.

 Your eyes were wide, lips parted in shock, but you made no moves to distance yourself from him. Slowly, he brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, lowering his face towards yours so that he could feel your breath against his own mouth.

 “And here?” He whispered, his eyes meeting yours. “Do you like it here?”

 When you nodded once again in answer to his hushed question, he wasted no time in diminishing the space left between the two of you to gently press his lips against your own.

 His lips worked against yours perfectly as you allowed your eyes to fall shut, letting your hand fall from his grasp so you could hold his neck in your palms, your fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into him as his kiss grew deeper and you followed along, tilting your head to better match your lips with the pace of his.

 When he pulled away from you abruptly and rested his forehead against your shoulder, you knew right away that something was wrong. He was breathing deeply, his hands clutching the fabric of your dress. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and lifted his face to yours, seeing how red his cheeks, nose, and ears had gotten.

 “Taehyun? What’s wrong?”

 He let out a shaky breath, his eyes still closed, his chest still heaving. “I’m—I’m sorry. I can’t kiss you, it’s too—I’m getting too warm.”

 Your heart sank as you continued to hold his face in your hands, racking your brain for ideas. The sound of the waterfall rushing behind you filled your ears, and you glanced over your shoulder, biting your lip as an idea popped into your head.

 Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you carefully walked backwards until you felt the ice cold water cascade over your head and down your back, stopping once you and Taehyun were both standing fully beneath the waterfall.

 His eyes were wide, and he was slowly beginning to stand up straighter, his face growing less and less warm beneath your skin as the moments passed by.

 “What are you doing?” He asked, nearly shouting to be heard above the light rush of water.

 You smiled, pushing back pieces of his hair that the water had plastered to his forehead, only for them to fall right back into place.

 “Why would you ask a question with such an obvious answer, Your Highness? I’m about to kiss you.”

 He seemed to be in shock, but before he could utter out a single word in reply, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him once more beneath the cascade of icy water, the feeling of his lips against your own giving you more than enough warmth in the core of your soul.

 -

 IT DIDN’T TAKE YOU LONG TO REACH THE CAVE WHERE THE LATE KING HAD FIRST CAST THE SPELL THAT RUINED THE LAND OF GLACIES. You had set back out on the road shortly after your somewhat extended rest stop, and by following the map closely, you arrived at the mouth of a cave with icicles hanging from the top and also sticking up from the ground. It looked much like the mouth of a great beast. It was too dangerous to try and bring Atlas inside with you, so Taehyun tied him and the sled to a nearby tree. He grabbed the bag that held the crown inside of it in one hand and then made his way to your side.

 “Are you ready?” Whether his question was directed towards you or himself, you couldn’t be sure. Regardless, you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

 “I am ready when you are, Your Highness.”

 He smiled before he took the first step into the cave, carefully sliding between two spires of ice and gently pulling you along behind him. The cave didn’t go on for very long, and there was no need for you to bring a lantern along with you, as the daylight that spilled in through the entrance was more than enough to light your way.

 When you reached the end of the shallow cave, a large pedestal made of stone was waiting for you. It was surrounded by a perfectly round back wall, with ancient texts inscribed on the walls. You weren’t able to decipher them, but you made your way towards the pedestal, your hand still locked with Taehyun’s.

 A large black scorch mark in the shape of a sharp snowflake tainted the surface of the pedestal. Atop it rested a tattered and torn piece of tan paper, also written in a language you were unable to read. You slowly picked it up and handed it to Taehyun. “Can you read this?”

 He nodded, squinting his eyes a bit before he read the words written on the page.

 “To seize the power given to all, you must first destroy the treasure within. To restore the treasure within your soul, you must then destroy your everything.”

 As soon as the words had left Taehyun’s lift, a violent, howling wind burst through the room. It blew with so much force that your hand was ripped from Taehyun’s, and you were thrown back against the stone wall of the cave. Taehyun was blown to the side opposite of you, and the crown fell from his grasp, landing near your feet. For some reason, the crown didn’t seem to be affected by the wind, as it remained stationary.

 “What’s going on?” You shouted, gripping at a spire of ice nearby to keep from being blown right out of the cave. Bits of sleet and snow were pricking at your skin, the chilling air feeling sharper than the blade of ice Taehyun had held against your neck just days before.

 “I don’t know,” He shouted back, gripping a rock that protruded from his side of the cave. “We need to decipher what was written down on that paper—that must be how we are to break the spell!”

 The words scribbled onto the page flashed through your mind.

 To seize the power given to all, you must first destroy the treasure within. This was obviously referring to the spell itself—the one cast by Taehyun’s grandfather. In order to steal the magic from the rest of his subjects, he had to sacrifice the most valuable power of all—his humanity.

 To restore the treasure within your soul, you must then destroy your everything.

 What had been everything to the late king?

 His power.

 His crown.

 “Taehyun!” You shouted, daring to hold on to the spire with one hand in order to point at the crown by your feet, which still remained unmoving amidst the magical storm. “The crown—you must destroy it!”

 He tried to stand, but was instantly knocked back on his rear, desperately grasping back onto the rock that kept him anchored. “I cannot make it over there to retrieve it!”

 You bit your lip, glancing between Taehyun and the crown only for a moment before you made up your mind. You knew what you had to do.

 “Y/N,” Taehyun warned, catching on to what you were about to do. “Y/N, don’t—!”

 It was too late. You used your boot to pull the crown towards you before you grasped it in your fist. Pain shot through every inch of your being—beginning in your neck, then spreading through your chest and your legs, to the tips of your fingers and the bottoms of your toes, piercing through you like the sharpest bite of frost. You cried out in pain, over the noise of Taehyun screaming for you to put it down, before you mustered up every last bit of strength within you to lurch the crown towards the prince.

 He caught it with one hand, his heart racing as he saw you fall limp to the ground, the wind battering and blowing your unconscious form around like a lone leaf in the winter’s wind. Tears stung at the back of his eyes, and he glared at the crown in his fist, all the anger and resentment he had felt towards his grandfather over all the years combined with the fear of losing you coming to a peak within him. He channeled every bit of these hostile and fearful emotions into the palm of his hand, where a burst of ice so strong was emitted that it covered the room in a blanket of white, the crown first cracking in his hand before it burst into a million shards, scattering all over the cave floor like pieces of glass.

 The storm died out immediately, and Taehyun felt a rush of energy enter into his body. He felt stronger, healthier, warmer. But none of that mattered to him. Not when you were nearly lifeless on the other side of the cave.

 “Y/N!” He shouted, tripping over his own feet as he sprinted towards you. He collapsed to the ground beside of you, gasping at the sight of blood dripping down your neck and seeping through your clothes.

 “No, no, no,” he whimpered, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks as his hands pressed against your wounds, but there were too many of them for him to cover.

Desperate, he let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He knew that he no longer had access to all the powers he once did now that the spell was broken. There was no way for him to know if his healing magic was his true form of magic.

 But he had to try.

 At first, when he tried to omit the soft glow of icy power from his palms, nothing happened. But then, he felt a familiar tickling sensation on the surface of his skin. He opened one eye, then the other, nearly breaking down in sobs of relief as he watched gentle trails of frost travel down your skin, closing all your wounds and erasing any traces of them that would normally be left behind.

 When the last cut had disappeared, your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled at him.

 “Well done, your highness. You’ve broken the curse.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you upright, crushing you against him in a hug.

 “Never do anything like that ever again,” He muttered against your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “I thought I lost you.”

 “You cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness,” you teased, pulling away just enough so you could look into his eyes. “Besides, I knew that healing magic was your true gift. I knew you would save me.”

 “And how exactly did you know that, my lady?”

 You pecked him on the nose, giggling at how red it turned afterwards. “Because you are a kind and good prince, Taehyun. And you will make a wonderful, healing king.”

 “What about you?” He asked. “We should see what ice power you have been gifted.”

 You hesitated, gently holding one of your hands out in front of you. Your brows knit together, and Taehyun laughed at the expression before he placed his hand beneath yours.

 “Feel the energy running through your veins,” He said. “Let the magic guide you.”

 Nothing happened for the first few moments. But then, one by one, snowflakes began to fall, seemingly from out of nowhere. Soon, you held a tiny snowstorm in the palm of your hand. You gasped, eyes glowing with excitement.

 “It worked,” You said, staring at what you had created in awe before you allowed it to die down.  You then cupped his cheeks in your hands, leaning closer towards him.

 “How does it feel to finally be free? What is the first thing you would like to do now?” You asked.

 He couldn’t take his eyes from your face, his thumbs tracing invisible lines across your cheeks and your jaw, occasionally slipping over your lips. “The first thing? Simple; I want to make you my queen.”

 You coughed, but remained fairly unphased by his forwardness as you responded with, “Although that is something you could have done without breaking the spell, I am quite fond of the idea. Yet, I have one even better than that—how about we instead dissolve the monarchy together?”

 He laughed at that, brushing his hands through your hair before cradling your jaw once more. “One step at a time, princess. We can talk about that later. But what about you? What are you most excited about now that the kingdom has been restored?”

 You smiled then, not having to take long at all to think of your answer. “As wonderful as having newfound magical abilities may be, my prince, the most wonderful thing about breaking this spell is that I am now able to kiss you wherever I please—without having to stand beneath a freezing waterfall.”

 This time, when you leaned forward to capture his lips with yours, Taehyun gladly welcomed the warmth that rushed to his cheeks. And as he kissed you, he was sure that all the warmth that spread throughout him was enough to heat the entire kingdom, so much so that he dared to imagine that the eternal ice of the Kingdom of Glacies would finally begin to thaw.

[kikyan]

Yandere Soul Eater Headcanons

These are my interpretations of his persona and none of these are 100% accurate. I don't condone any of these actions in real life and all of this is purely fictional. 

Yandere Server 

Black Star 

I probably am gonna butcher all three but here we go! I’ve only seen the anime so I’ll be going off of that instead of the manga. When we meet Black Star we see a loud boy, a VERY loud person with a ‘radiant’ personality. He holds himself to a high degree and is a very funny person with an outgoing personality. Tsubaki is someone who can match with his soul wavelength because she is a very understanding and patient girl. Off the bat I think that his yandere type would be possessive, clingy, and manipulative. 

Let me start at the beginning. It was revealed that his parents were assassins, he never met them but somehow their reputation followed him. People judged him a lot despite him not being like his parents, wrongfully judged but he tries hard not to show it. I think that his personality ties in with that, he wants to alert attention to himself to show that he is his own person. 

Clingy. He is a very clingy person because his personality is in a sense, seeking attention. The first person he would seek attention from would be his S/O. He would always direct himself when he completed an accomplishment. Turn to his S/O and ask for their praise, when he gets it he simply turns to say “Well I’m Black Star after all!” He will constantly want his S/O’s attention in anything and everything he does. He’s about to fight someone? You’re coming to watch. He wants to show up whenever he wants. He’ll leave his own home and show up at his S/O’s home through the window because he’s built differently. 

Possessive. His S/O is his. Simple as that. He wants their attention 25/8 on him only, if his S/O is talking to someone else. No they aren’t. They aren’t. They simply can’t. Would call out to his S/O and grab them, hold them, put his arm around them, just assert dominance on them because that’s HIS S/O. It would get to the point where he would be over their house or would suggest them moving in with them. 

Manipulative. He would be manipulative. If his S/O would be upset about anything he will hype them up. He wouldn’t put them down, but he would question them. “ Well I guess you don’t want Black Star as your boyfriend.” Something like that. He wouldn’t be the biggest with manipulation, but he would drop subtle hints or maybe stop going over making their S/O question what is going on. Make it seem as if it’s their fault he is acting this way, their fault that this happened, etc. 

I don’t really see him as a dangerous yandere, but there is a slight chance that he may say some things that don’t sound the nicest at times. He could unintentionally say things he doesn’t mean, his S/O feels upset and then he may not apologize because he doesn’t understand what he said was wrong. It would take Tsubaki and the others to point out what he said was wrong, which would lead to him apologizing and feeling bad. Offering out to do something for his S/O because he is Black Star, he always makes up for mistakes. 

Soul “Eater” Evans

When I first started Soul Eater, I immediately looked at this man and said "He cute asf <3" and I still stand by that. Throughout the series you can see him two sides of him you can see a very laid back individual or a sacrificial individual who needs to do everything himself (let me explain) 

During the entire show he holds the 'cool' title and wants to be a laid back character who's morals aren't as laid back so he will step in when things aren't 'cool'. It doesn't take much to make him fall in love with his S/O just with enough interaction. With this relationship it's the most normal set up, you're a chill person and we've been friends, wanna go out? As a yandere? This is a tough one because it depends on the side that we're looking at. He, as himself, will do everything to make a normal relationship because I naturally see him as a little possessive guy. If we talk about after the black blood and dark thoughts, along with the little devil corrupting him, he would be a bit more cruel and sadistic in his ways to ensure his S/O will stay with him. With that I think of these, Possessive and Overprotective. Under the black blood's influence? Manipulative, Clingy, Sadistic. 

Possessive. I see him being like this naturally, it's just you're his S/O and he wants to make sure people know that. Will walk close to you and if people get too close, he'll get closer till they get the idea. It's just something simple, has an arm around you constantly. Someone is talking to you? He is about to slide in there and wrap around you, inviting himself into the conversation. Sometimes it can get a little too overbearing but crack a joke here and there and it's all good. 

Overprotective. He has Maka as his meister, but the cool thing about Soul is that he can turn his arm into a blade so he doesn't need Maka in some cases. No matter what you are, he'll always feel the need to protect you and take care of you. You could be dealing with things on your own but here comes Soul ready to help you. I see him either letting you deal with it while commenting, “Yeah, my S/O is a badass” or the one who thinks “ A cool boyfriend always helps out.” Towards the end of it, it seems a lot more overbearing. With the whole Kishin incident happening, he would be very overprotective to the point where he would request to be in the same group as you when you go scouting or after the Kishin. After the Kishin incident, he can’t help but fear something similar happening and wanting to be more overprotective. 

After getting the black blood, you can see that he wants to do the most he can to take care of Maka and ensure nothing bad happens to her. Slowly going insane with the suggestions that the demon gives him. I remember that one episode in the anime where Stein placed them in a room with a scent that makes them reveal their true feelings. Soul wants to protect Maka and Maka wants to protect Soul. Soul wants to be the weapon that he is and protect Maka, even prepared to lay down his life for her whereas Maka wants to protect Soul and avoid him getting hurt. He gets the black blood and the demon starts to exploit his wish by trying to let him lower his guard and taking over him. With everything going on, I can see his S/O siding with Maka and wanting to protect Soul. If he is like this with Maka, imagine him with his S/O. Wanting to protect his S/O is his number one priority, but to what extent?

Manipulative. He would be manipulative with his S/O. He would guilt trip them in some cases if they chose to deny hanging out with him or being a little busy. I think he would gaslight them into thinking that they need him to protect them. They need him, because without him they would be in trouble or maybe even lose their life. If I’m being honest, all he wants is a normal relationship with his S/O but he is very protective over them and will do everything he can to take care of them. 

Sadistic, but not by choice. This is a bit of a stretch, but I think he can. Of course under the influence of the Black Blood he would consider hurting his S/O to ensure that they are safe and sound. Breaking a limb or knocking them out to ensure that they can’t move. They need him and if they can’t see that, he needs to show them. 

I know that these are confusing and probably won’t make sense, but I think that after everything that happened in that show, he would be horrified if he couldn’t protect his S/O and live up to the ideology that he is a cool person. He would not only break down and lose it, doing what he can to make his S/O trust, believe, love, and depend on him. He would be clingy and if these ever got to be too much, he would turn to them for help. He tries so hard to be the ‘cool’ guy that sometimes he neglects his own feelings. Overall, he would be a dangerous yandere. If I could give a rating, I would say a 4 or a 5/10. He would slowly lose his sanity for his S/O. 

Death The Kid

Kid. I would say that he is a complex character but at the same time, not really. When it comes to Kid, I think he would be lowkey kinda scared for a romantic relationship because those require patience which a lot of people lose when it comes to him. Instead of laid back he is those people who go all out in relationships because they want everything to be perfect. With that in mind, I think he would be obsessive, lowkey possessive, and manipulative. 

Obsessive. He wants everything to be perfect but it can only be perfect if he knows how to properly plan things without thinking of the what ifs. One way to avoid that is to know everything about your S/O. He would stop to memorize your entire schedule, what you enjoy eating, how much you eat, how much you sleep, your favorite sleeping position, do you sleep with a plushie, etc. Man is OBSESSED with his S/O. Honestly, it’s those thoughts that consume him in the worst ways and worst times. Fighting a Kishin? ‘ What if they don’t like the way that I wrote my name on the group project sheet?’ Like no, you plague his mind 25/8. It would get to the point where he starts to get so obsessed with their life that he might ‘suggest’ or even take it upon himself to ‘help’ you do something in a particular style. Maybe a bit overcontrolling. 

Possessive. For starters, his S/O is someone who took patience with him. Liked his antics and understood his way of being. Never shamed him because in all honesty, I’m going to get real for a second. Kid has OCD, with symmetry and while some people find his antics funny and cute because they are portrayed that way, in a realistic setting this is the harsh reality. People with major OCD can’t do things they want to do without it taking an extreme, I don’t think I have OCD but I’ll give examples from what I’ve learned. People who don’t feel clean enough will often wash their hands, shower, or groom themselves very often. We know that while hygiene is very good, it’s very bad for the skin when it’s excessive. People would wash their hands frequently to the point their skin is raw from scrubbing or dry from the lack of moisture being trapped in the skin. Where something they did doesn’t feel right to the point they do it over and over again until it does. It’s something that can take time away from people, so while it’s portrayed to be funny in Soul Eater, it would be a real thing for Kid. His S/O would not judge him, would understand him, be patient with him, and genuinely care for him. People like that are very hard to find in the most extreme cases, of course I’m not shaming people who don’t want to be by someone's side like that because at the end of the day, you have no obligation to be there, but for Kid? His S/O would be there for him. Again, his S/O means the world to Kid because it’s someone who wants him for himself and for everything. He would not hesitate to dirty someone’s reputation or his own hands to ensure that his S/O stays with him. He isn’t playing games, he would proudly show them off because he loves them very much. 

Manipulative. Kid is very smart and while knowing everything about his S/O, he can direct his or his S/O’s  act to go into his favor. With this in mind, he can do a lot of damage. He would be in pain constantly but he wouldn’t be above making his S/O feel bad or doubt themselves if he has to. He would see that his S/O would feel bad when Kid goes into his mood where he feels like trash. He sees that makes his S/O lean more to him. If he wants their attention or time with them, he would pull that card to get his S/O with him. 

Kid isn’t a dangerous yandere who means physical harm, but mentally yeah. He can be dangerous, he is literally the Grim Reapers son, he has so much power but he can be so vulnerable. Physically? He can deal a lot of damage, but mentally? He can deal more. Think of it like this, it’s the fear that this man can inflict pain. It’s the fact that this man who is strong, is being vulnerable in front of you, to you. It’s the fact that he knows certain things about, it’s that fact that his man makes it seem like you’re responsible and that he needs you. It’s the fact that this man could do something and it would be all your fault, doesn’t matter if you know, it’s the fact that everyone will believe that you’re the cause of whatever Kid did. He is the son of the Grim Reaper, he was raised and taught well but you? No, you weren’t. 

[blackened-angel]

“Demon World History” translations from the DMC1 and DMC3 manuals

“During the time when the star of salvation was shining over Bethlehem, a ferocious demon hath risen in the depths of the underworld.

Emperor of demons he proclaimed himself and commanded all the malevolent creatures in his domain and he also desired to conquer the world of humans.

However, a mighty demon swordsman by the name of Sparda, rebelled against the Demon Emperor and slayed his evil hosts, until he finally defeated and sealed away the emperor.

Although a demon himself, Sparda turned on his brethren for he took pity on humans and their fragile lives.

After many battles, the swordsman left his homeland for our world and married an ordinary woman who bore him a child.

However, take heed disciples of God!

After two millennia, the accursed Demon Emperor shall break from his bonds and the world of humans is fated once again to be invaded by his eldritch power.

When the time comes, the half-demon son of Sparda shall be the one to stand on the dark battlefield to protect mankind.”

Forbidden library of the Vatican.

Excerpt from “History of the Demon World”. (Devil May Cry 1 game manual)

“However, there were always people fascinated by evil.

They worshiped demons and in their attempt to gain powers like them, men have erected a great tower.

That edifice would join the realms of demons and men, and those who tried to ascend to evil, climbed the tower. It was a transgression beyond belief.

Around the same time, the mighty demon swordsman Sparda, woke up to justice. He did not bear resentment towards his brethren and eventually he defeated the Demon Emperor.

Thereafter, Sparda feared his own wicked power and wanted to seal it away together with his sword in the Demon World and it was the great tower that became the key for that seal.

In the deepest part of the tower, Sparda sacrificed a virgin maiden and her blood along with his own were used to create the seal and thus, he locked away the demons and his power.

The great tower sank to the depths of the earth and time stopped for the demons and their world.”

Forbidden library of the Vatican.

Excerpt from “Record of demonic swords” (date unknown). (Devil May Cry 3 game manual)

TRANSLATION NOTES

My God these texts were difficult to translate because in Japanese, they are written with classical grammar which makes them sound archaic and I have tried to keep that tone in my translations and I would like to hear your opinions about them. These texts have been localized in the game manuals for Devil May Cry 1 and 3 and the manga, but they have a few differences, most notably for the first text “Demon World History”, thus, I made my own translations and made comparisons with the localizations.

I didn’t know that the “Demon World History” was actually from a Devil May Cry 1 material, the first time I saw the text was in the Devil May Cry 3 manga and this has provided something quite interesting. I will also mention that the translation in the DMC3 manga is different from the one in game manual for DMC1, it didn’t copy-paste the version from there, it’s actually a closer translation to the original text in Japanese because the English localization from DMC1’s manual has a few differences.

What makes the text in the DMC1 manual interesting is the fact that it mentions places from the real world: Bethlehem and the Vatican. Like I mentioned, the first time I saw the text about Demon World History was in the DMC3 manga and I found it weird that it mentioned Bethlehem and the Vatican, but the text originated from Devil May Cry 1. This could mean that the setting in Devil May Cry 1 takes place in the real world and has some fictional places, similar to Resident Evil because DMC1 was conceived as an early Resident Evil 4.

It’s interesting how in Devil May Cry 4, Fortuna is apparently based on the Vatican.

In the manual of Devil May Cry 1, the localization of the text doesn’t mention Bethlehem and Vatican yet they are mentioned in the one from the DMC3 manga. It could be possible that at the time it was controversial to mention those places because it has to do with religion and the game is about demons, so maybe the localization could not mention those places, this is my opinion. This is what is says in the first paragraph from the English manual’s localization:

“According to legend, 2000 years ago while snow was falling on a clear,

freezing night on Earth, a fierce devil prince was born deep in the

darkest pit of the netherworld.”

DMC3 manga translation: “ During the time when the star of Bethlehem bathed the Earth with its radiance, demons and monsters raged deep within the bowels of hell.”

My translation: “During the time when the star of salvation was shining over Bethlehem, a ferocious demon hath risen in the depths of the underworld.”

As you can see, there is no mention of Bethlehem in the DMC1 manual and it doesn’t mention Vatican at the end, it says: “From Devil World History (age unknown)

housed in the library of Forbidden Books.

The mention of a star in Bethlehem is most likely a reference to the story about the birth of Jesus. It’s an interesting parallel, Mundus is considered like Satan in Devil May Cry and in a way, Sparda was the savior of mankind.

DMC1 game manual: ”But a powerful devil-knight known as Sparda took pity on humans for their brief, transient lives.”

DMC3 manga: “Although Sparda was himself a demon, his desire to experience the pain and joy of a human soul turned him against the demons.”

My translation: “Although a demon himself, Sparda turned on his brethren for he took pity on humans and their fragile lives.”

I will give credit to the translation from the DMC1 manual which is closer to the original text and I will mention that I like how in Japanese it is worded in a specific way. The word 慈しむ was used which means “to be affectionate towards” but there is also the meaning of “to love (someone weaker than oneself).”

DMC1 game manual: ”Having achieved his victory, Sparda abandoned the Devil Kingdom to live in the human world. He married a human woman and soon fathered a half devil, half man son.

But beware, mankind. After 2000 years, the cursed Devil Emperor will be

released and will return to invade the human world once again.

Sparda's son must be our protector!”

DMC3 manga: “After many bloody battles, he departed hell to reside in the human world. He even married a human woman, who bore his seed. And so, after two thousand years have past, the cursed Demon King is destined to reclaim his powers and return to the human world. Also destined is the battle between the Demon King, and the half-demon son of Sparda.”

My translation: “After many battles, the swordsman left his homeland for our world and married an ordinary woman who bore him a child.

However, take heed disciples of God!

After two millennia, the accursed Demon Emperor shall break from his bonds and the world of humans is fated once again to be invaded by his eldritch power. When the time comes, the half-demon son of Sparda shall be the one to stand on the dark battlefield to protect mankind.”

Unlike the other translations I have used the word “homeland” instead of demon world or underworld, I believed it sounded more poetic, like I mentioned, the texts used a lot of archaic words.

It’s interesting how it was prophesied that Mundus will come back to invade the human world and Dante will be the one to fight him.

The other text which talks about Temen-Ni-Gru is from the Devil May Cry 3 Japanese manual and I have found a localization for it on the Devil May Cry wiki but it doesn’t say where it’s from, maybe some of you can tell me!

This text is also from the library of Vatican which makes it sound like the setting is still in the real world...Even though we have Fortuna in DMC4, it could be that Fortuna was modeled after Vatican which exists in the Devil May Cry world, maybe the Order of the Sword is a branch of the main headquarters which is in Italy.

It’s just a theory, what do you guys think?

Regarding the translation of this text, there is a part which might have two meanings. 魔剣士スパーダ、善なる心に覚め

同胞に恨なし、遂に魔の物を統べる魔帝をも討ち負かせり。

Localization: “In this time of need, Sparda, a Demon Swordsman and hero among heroes, arose and turning on his brethren, finally struck down the demon empire that ruled over all things evil.” My translation: “Around the same time, the mighty demon swordsman Sparda, woke up to justice. He did not bear resentment towards his brethren and eventually he defeated the Demon Emperor.”

Let’s start with 善なる心に覚め, [ 善 ] means goodness; virtue, but I chose to use the infamous translation “woke up to justice”. Okay, the part that I mentioned which might have two meanings is this one 同胞に恨なし

Literally this can be translated as “towards brethren there is no grudge/resentment” and I for one believe it’s plausible, because Sparda mainly hated Mundus and he commanded the demons, Sparda had no choice but to fight them.

In the first text there was a similar sentence in Japanese スパーダが同胞に仇なしたる and 仇なすmeans to do (someone) a wrong and in the context here, this means that it was him who did something wrong to his brethren, because we are given the reason afterwards-he took pity on humans. It could be possible that 同胞に恨なし might mean that Sparda had resentment towards the demons, the meaning of “turning against his brethren”.

I have written these interpretations because, like I said, the grammar used in these texts is classical which I’m not familiar with and I had to research to make the translations and I have asked someone about this part and they also said that both interpretations are plausible.

Localization: “Then greatly fearing his own accursed power, Sparda sought to seal himself away forever with the demons. The key to that seal was the great tower.” My translation: “Thereafter, Sparda feared his own wicked power and wanted to seal it away together with his sword in the Demon World and it was the great tower that became the key for that seal.”

The localization says “Sparda sought to seal himself away forever with the demons”, which is a mistranslation, it was his power that he wanted to seal, not himself.

These texts were interesting, although I may not have provided new information because these have been translated before, as you have seen there were some differences and it’s cool that I got to read the original texts in Japanese.