#one of these characters has a body count in the millions and the other is arjuna alter/j

[meiguicha]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?

Mydei x Reader - Reincarnation AU

No matter how, where or when, you'll always be his greatest love.

cw: major character deaths, descriptions of wounds and illness, spoilers for Mydei's backstory, mild allusions to sex, cussing, ten million liberties taken and written pre 3.1

//happy cny have a borderline thesis. reader has like three thousand past lives/j so i named them for my own convenience (and symbolism but who cares in this economy). n e ways. mydei really reminds me of mobe-- *im immediately knocked out and taken to the back

The inability to die is oftentimes the answer many offer when asked that ridiculous question.

It's easier to sensationalise it, to imagine the feats one could achieve without the fear of death rather than consider the suffering and agony of a feeling body. Though the flesh is willing, what occurs to the mind is far more detrimental than the sensation of pain. 

Perhaps for those with a weaker will that is so, but Mydei is not the kind to linger on the hopelessness nor the what-ifs of impossibility. He can endure the hardships those cannot, so even if he has experienced ten thousand deaths, he will keep pushing on.

Though, just like a man, and no matter how much they might spin the tales, he is still a man, within his damned beating heart springs forward a doubt at every turn of the decade. 

In countless lives, on countless battlefields, it is always you who wrests that uneasy hesitation from somewhere long forgotten. 

Soldier, healer, scholar. 

Kremnos, Okhema, Aidonia.  

He could count the lives you spent by his side, the names you have taken, the forms you have borne. Yet such trivial things did not matter, inevitably you would learn of him and you would return to his side. And somehow, perhaps through some ancestral wiles, you would coax his very soul around yours, make your very being an integral pillar to his life and cruel as you are, it is only you who could make his head bow. 

The first of your lives was advantageous to your nascent mission, the child of a Kremnoan sergeant who served as a childhood playmate. Androphonos, your mother named you. Androphonos, your father declared you. 

Fleet footed and much so of wit, he remembers those eyes that bore the flames of day, bands of gold decorating lean arms and that voice akin to the howling wind. Your smile that could assail a thousand men, your parents named you well, for even the sight of it seemed to thrust a great lance into his heart. And yet still, he will never forget the look you gave him when he bested you in combat, the joy and relief on your face when it was he who pinned you unmoving, for that was what struck that final blow of this battle they call love. 

“I’m glad it's you,” Admitted to him in the quiet of the afterglow, you had pressed a soft kiss to his palm just before, and though the years have passed, he still remembers your warm breath against him.  

He kept his own voice murmuring, carefully returning your affections with a cradle of your jaw, “You are? What kind of people have you been surrounded with that you’d prefer me?”

Your gentle touch was so foreign to him, he couldn’t understand what you saw in him. There was nothing but conflict that predated and awaited him, and if you joined him, you would only scorn this life. The extent of your affection seemed cursory, a kind of obligation rather than true desire. It had troubled him at first, but your words truly held a persuasion unlike any other.  

You had only laughed at his response, the ends of your eyes crinkling together as you bared teeth and mirth. Like a teenage boy, the scene of you bathed in warm light, draped in crimson robes and hair undone, had made him feel ever more aware of you, of himself.  

“I’ll take no one else, I’d rather die than to be deprived of you.”

Warm as the great skies and embracing as so, the eyes in which he looked upon you could no doubt be described as nothing more than reverent as you pressed kiss after kiss along muscle and sinew. You yielded to him once more, providing little protest as every breath from your lips were more like whisperings of greater divine. 

Hands that have ripped the flesh of mortals clawed and drew blood, yet what you left were not scars of shame but that of pride, proof of your conquest. No matter that they were temporary, you merely left more in their wake. He pushed and prodded until even the stars of Kephale bore themselves in your vision, wherein just the sight of your dishevelled and splayed bliss had him comprehend Nikador’s infatuation with Bepsis. 

No, though he has never laid sight upon her, he knew you were more beautiful then. 

Androphonos they called you, and were it possible, he’d lay dead at your feet for even the thought of your returned ardour was more powerful than any weapon.

Androphonos, a name he thought of within that cell. 

The jail of the palace was decrepit, damp and worn. Prisoners did not remain here long, and though he remained undying, that did not mean he did not worry for those beyond it. He has grown weak from weariness and exhaustion, now even copper could restrain him without fault. 

That man has gone mad with delusion and paranoia, it seemed he was keen on following after their god along a treacherous path. 

From afar his ears picked up on rushed steps against stone, fabric rushing along the wind before all that filled his senses were the swift fall of armour clanging against the floor. The cry of slain guards accompanied the symphony of combat and perhaps to another, this would not be a sound as comforting. But the winds favoured one, the fleet footed and the lean armed. 

It was you who appeared before him, a shield and spear  in arm with eyes blazing with fury. Breaking open the door with a simple slam of your shield, you had rushed in with little explanation and set to work. 

“There’s arrangements for you outside the walls,” Your voice was harsh, yet still you refuse to let your affections be absent. As you released him from his binds, your hands moved swiftly as you wrapped your cloak around him. “I’ll remain here to buy you time.”

To stay there would be the same as a death sentence, and though glory only awaited those who perished in battle, he did not wish for you to pass on away from him. Not in such a dishonourable place, not if he must leave you like a coward to fight his battles.

“Do you think you're invincible?!” Mydeimos retorted back, pulling down your spear as he forced you to face him. 

He had not seen sorrow so palatable on your face before. Though tears did not fall from your flaming eyes, the severe furrow of your brow and the grip of your calloused hands were all he needed. 

Your free hand, wet with the blood of faithless men, held his face. This body of his cursed to suffer a thousand deaths, his path bathed in blood and fraught with hardships, he should have foreseen your own would be drowned with it. Yet even then, you will hold him as though the most precious thing in this world. 

A smile tinged your lips, flesh pulling wide like a mockery of joy. “My love, I will not be killed so easily.”

“Your people need you, you must go.”

He doesn’t know when you dropped your weapon, but the clatter of it meant little in comparison to your touch. So gentle, you were so gentle with him no matter the strength you bore. Chapped lips pressed against his own as iron filled his taste buds, yet you would not let him have this moment any longer, pulling away before he could even convince you otherwise. 

“I’ll be with you soon, and if not, I will not join Nikador until I find you in my next life,” your last words to him were whispered against his lips, a quiet promise. 

Your laughter is the last thing he hears before you shoved him away, howling in the rushing wind as you bear your spear and shield once more.

Mydeimos would not let you have that last word, and before he escaped, he had yelled, trying desperately to reach you in your fervour, “You won’t die, don’t say as if it's so!”

You did not hear him. 

Killer of men. The historians will not write down your name nor your feats, but he will chisel your very being into his memory. 

The second of your lives tucked you away in the steppes of Cypris, a healer amidst the townsfolk fleeing from the black tide. Eleemon, the children dubbed you. Eleemon, the soldiers cried for you. 

Slender handed and poison tongued, you shielded yourself with a veil, legs akin to a hind and a temper to match. Your reputation preceded you, but nothing could have prepared him for the fire in your eyes when you first forced his gaze. It was not humour that greeted him, not even curiosity, nothing but pitiful vexation. 

“You are a fool,” Spat to him in your private tent, you had sat him down atop a makeshift bed to conduct a checkup. Even now he remembers the cool of your palm, nails dragging along his skin as you surveyed his form.

Mydei only retorted back, and in that time he had not known why he found himself unwilling to let the brash bite of his words stain his voice, “And so are you for thinking I need your help.”

He had never met a healer as audacious as you, uncaring of class nor occupation and critical of all. With the detachment only having just been born, taking in the survivors of Cypris was foolish but the sight of your shrouded form enticed the final decision. It was purely logical but not even logic could explain the familiarity in your eyes nor the weight of your speech. 

“Not so much as you,” Sneering, your acerbic spite was bared through teeth and a slight mirth. And as you regarded him with a glare that could only rival Nikador’s, he felt some part of Kremnos remained with you.

“Only the foolish think themselves unnecessary of rest.”

The days of travel grew weary on all, wearing down on morale yet you would not allow for even a minute of complaint. Your own pouch of water hung noticeably lighter than the soldiers’ when rest was needed, portions of rations smaller than the children’s, yet you denied the care of your elder and your assistant. 

In a past life, he promised to care for you as you would him, so no matter that your lips spewed poison upon each proprietary act of service, he could ignore the flush on your ears for the sake of your fragile pride. If you did truly mind after all, you would not hunch yourself so protectively over his form when the rest hours fell. 

He knew you meant it when you declared that you would find him in your next life.

Eleemon they called you, if the gods above were anything like you, perhaps Amphoreus would have no need for Chrysos Heirs like him. 

Eleemon, a name he thought of when a youth handed him a cup of wine.

The goblet was made of copper, he remembers, a knuckle’s worth of deep red wine sloshing in the vessel. Your elder had decidedly presented it as celebration when the bright light of Kephale’s gifts grew ever closer. Not even you were immune to the solemn look of the older man, perhaps you had long known he wouldn’t be able to bask beneath the warm sun once more. 

You were quiet when your assistant handed him the cup, eyes narrowed at the contents before they directed themselves to your own. 

There was that look in your eyes, spiteful and vexed, yet you said nothing, merely pursed your lips and set your drink in front of him. Instead, you busied yourself with pushing his own further and further away from his grasp, and when he shot you a look, you persisted.

“Do you want to deprive me of drink?” Mydei snorted at your almost feline display.

With a sneer, you simply hissed, “Don’t touch it.”

He followed the direction of your gaze, and when all he was greeted was with the back of your assistant, you snatched the copper goblet from the makeshift table to dump out its contents. There at the very bottom were ground up leaves, stained red and certainly not part of the wine if he considered your unusually irate expression. 

You never told him what it was, but for the rest of that meal, you spent it staring at that youth. 

Far sooner than he imagined, he was left bereft of your snarky comments and acerbic smirk, slinking away from his side with nothing but a tap of his arm. Though he supposed when the target of your withering glares disappeared in the afterglow of festivity, you would be foolish enough to give chase. 

Yes, foolish indeed. 

When he had finally managed to follow after your tail, you were already in your tent, voices raised to a pitch that even from afar he could hear your enraged roar. You who was so often described as mercurial and high-strung, whose words were already armed with barbs, was truly and utterly wrathful. Tearing into whoever was idiotic enough to incur your already short impatience without care for reason.

Yet, with how grave your expression was before you left, even though he knew you were more than capable, worry still crept up on him. The last time you ran off, far away from his sight, from his grasp, you left him. And now? Hearing the shuffle of limbs and the crash of items, something roiled in his veins. 

If anything happened while you were just within reach, he thought, he really would have failed you again. 

As he stepped closer towards the entrance of the tent, a familiar voice threw accusation after accusation at you without recourse. Muffled by the light cloth, it did nothing to hide the disgust in their tone, dripping with palatable odium. 

“Even now you defend him? What has that patricidal coward done to you?”

Though he couldn’t see your expression, he imagined you were sneering again, baring teeth and pride, “Says you! What have you to your name beyond attempting to kill the man delivering us?!”

“Just because you laid with him does not mean we are happy with this!” They hissed and as though picking up something, you rushed to hinder their path. Even then, this person pleaded, begged, “Don’t you see that it is their god that harms us?”

“Elis!”

That person barely managed to enact their rampage before being swiftly put down, knife thrown off to some distant place and arms dislocated. What happened to them, he doesn’t remember more so than the thudding in his chest, his heart attempting mutiny on his ribs as he rushed into your tent. 

He hated that you were always quiet about your grievances. You never let a peep out when you were lacking in food or drink, injured or exhausted. If something bothered you, you’d merely up and leave to sort it out yourself. 

Mydei hated it most at that very moment. 

He could care less what others did to him. Cut his stomach open, leave hemlock in his cup, curse and call him every name under skies. Nothing could possibly hurt him more knowing that you would take that same suffering in stride, that you would not even tell him. 

Even in this life, you were the one protecting him.

Hand held limply over your abdomen, you sent him a weak jibe, devoid of any actual mocking. Your anger and your regret melted away as easily as your strength. 

“It's too late, don’t bother,” Murmured through your obvious pain, you made a weak attempt at batting him away as he approached.

“You’re a fool,” He gritted through his teeth, arms desperately scooping your limp form into his embrace. The ceding heat of your limbs was too quick, the spillage of your life more so. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shaking your head, you refuted him again. “Elis wouldn’t have listened otherwise.”

“I have suffered through worse, a stab would be nothing.”

If he had not known you as well as he did, he could not have possibly discerned what emotion blinked in your glassy eyes. 

Sorrow. It was always sorrow. 

With a strength that did not belong to you, you squeezed his arm as you forced him to look at you, forced him to look away from your organs spilling out. Still so stubborn in the face of death, he still doesn’t know why you were so wilful, why you refused to even let him help. 

“Don’t let them burn my body,” your voice waned. 

“They won’t, there will be no body.”

“I wanted to see Okhema, bury me there.”

“You’ll be there to see it, just shut up and stay awake.”

“Mydei.”

That simple call of his name snapped him out of whatever delusion he had entrapped himself with. 

“I really….” A strangled laugh wheezed from your throat, your fingers loosened their grip from his arm and even then he could not find the strength to let you lie so defeatedly, holding your hand in his as he watched your eyes cloud. “..liked you.”

And as you reached out to cradle his face, sticky with your own blood, he let himself lean into the last part of you he had. You were gentle, so gentle. He didn’t deserve your gentleness, he’d rather your anger and your poison once more. Maybe then, it wouldn’t have hurt that much. 

A tear he had not even known existed fell on your mouth, your lips lifted as you used what little energy left to curse him one last time. 

“... don’t look so sad, I’ll be back to torment you before you know it.”

The merciful. Cypris is a name devoured by the black tide and the sands of time, but you will live on in the prayers of countless. 

Your most recent life placed you closer still, an Okheman scholar who found the research of Castrum Kremnos life work. Ambologera, your peers sighed. Ambologera, your neighbours laughed. 

Fair faced and soft hearted, you bore the mind rivalling Cerces, fingers littered with rings and form almost vulpine like in movement. He heard your name first before all else, the moment the detachment returned to the eternal city, the exasperated groans uttered alongside the call was all he knew of you. And from the roofs of red tiles and billowing silks was you, as though a gift from the heavens presented straight to his hands. 

“To think you all would keep me from seeing him!” The incredulity of your tone was exaggerated, offended even at the idea. How could anyone possibly think of stopping you on your endeavours when you… 

…when you could only bring blessings upon those you favoured? 

With little care for the procession of homecoming, you leaped down from your perch to squeeze your way to the front. Dancing between the tight lineup of armoured soldiers, it proved such a simple task for you to emerge in his vision, effortlessly keeping up with the pace despite one trait he had neglected to consider.

You appeared older, noticeably so. Light wrinkles decorated the ends of your eyes, grey hair peppered amongst your bound braid, and yet he could not tear away that image of you. It had brought such an odd giddiness that for a sparse minute, he believed himself poisoned. 

“My lord, it would be my honour if you would spare me some of your time!” Offering a bright smile, the excitement on your face was like pure adrenaline through his veins. A joyous lilt tinged the end of your words as you mused, “I wish to hear everything of the Castrum Kremnos, everything you know!”

Involuntarily, the corner of his lips had quirked at your antics. You were so spirited, for a resident of Okhema to not only greet the Kremnoan procession with little more than genuine enthusiasm but to approach the very leader of it as though little more than a random stranger on the street. It was still you. 

At that very moment, just before he could reach for you, a youth rushed out from the alleys to pull you away, then another and another. Despite your age, it seemed as if an entire village was required to hold you back. You would not even allow them to take you back quietly, chiding them for not respecting their elders and still desperately trying to catch the prince’s attention. 

Yet, they had such a striking resemblance to you that in that very moment, fear struck far more lethal than any possible mortal weapon. Was it possible that this time, you had finally decided to give up on him? Or had he taken too long? 

A treacherous thought surfaced then, whoever it was that married you, could they possibly be more powerful than he? 

Within a few days, you appeared before him again, furiously scrawling notes above the marketplace. The sight of him returned the levity of your mood far swifter than any arrow, far swifter than a stranger should. You forced him to join you, and without any more delay, set to questioning on this and that, who takes on the dominant role in households, what materials were most abundant, how trade operated without much farm land. He could have talked of the number of steps in the palace and you would have still made him tell you the exact floor plan of the room. 

Odd. You really were odd. But you meant it, you meant your curse. 

As if to make up for the lost time, you would find some manner of requesting his presence at all times of the day. Dragging him to here or there, yapping his ears off with talks of your research and any idle old topic, smiling and laughing at him so sweetly that every night he’d dream of you. Your nieces and nephews could have glared at him until Okhema fell to the darkness and still then he believed he would have rather been struck dead that very moment than leave your side. 

Torment was a light definition for the ache that lingered at every thought you occupied. 

Ambologera they called you, and were it possible, he’d have liked for it to be true if only to spend more of this odd life with you. 

Ambologera, a name he dreaded to hear when he returned. 

He had been set to engage in another campaign, and though he worried, no, all but agonised over the state of your health, you would not let yourself be part of his hesitation. Mydei took your energy for granted, he hadn’t thought that though the threat of external conflict was absent, there was one foe even he could not defeat with his own hands. 

Your house was quiet when he returned, devoid of your usual chaos filling the rooms, and though your nephew had greeted him with a solemn nod, it was cold comfort. He wasn’t used to it, to the silence that seemed to cling to the white walls or the tidy corners of every room he passed. Your bedroom loomed closer and closer, and though he had seen sights that would turn the stomach of even the most grizzled of soldiers, seeing you so weak, so helpless, brought a sliver of despair onto the fortress of his affections. 

The windows were wide open, letting in the warm sunlight to wash over your form. Your hands, still adorned, lacked the strength to even wave at him, all you could offer was a tip of your head and that smile of yours. Beckoning him over, he could do nothing but indulge your request, more so when you asked to see the marketplace from the roofs once more, the same roof you leapt off of, the same roof you admitted your illness to him. 

You were so light, bundled even in blankets and coats, you were so light. And when you tugged them closer to your form, he simply held you closer. Even as he trekked past curious bystanders, your silence was deafening.  

Having settled you comfortably, he watched your hand pull out a small vessel, and when you struggled to open it, he took it off your hands to pop the cork off. The smell that greeted him was acidic, cloyingly sweet and burning his senses all at once. 

Mydei scrunched his nose at the item, directing a furrowed brow and grimace at your grinning face. “Should you really be having alcohol in this state?”

“I haven’t had wine in forever, least of all my niece’s,” You just laughed, gesturing for the bottle and taking a swig from it as carefully as you could. 

A swig was an understatement, you drank from it as if it was the life-giving waters, anymore and he worried you would have tumbled down from the heights in drunken confusion. You let him snatch the copper vessel away with little protest, and suddenly the action felt so wrong. 

“You can’t have more than this.”

“I’ve got the whole amphora in my kitchen, give it to your men, they’d like it.”

He didn’t have the heart to look at you after that exchange, and were it not for the hushed breath ridden with rue, he wonders even now whether you would have known how much it pained to even see you lose your will to fight with him. 

A light poke at his arm pulled him from the momentary lament, and your eyes, your bright eyes that had still yet to lose its brilliance crinkled together in an approximation of reassurance. 

Reaching back into the depths of wherever you pulled the wine from again, you hummed, “I have something for you.”

“Is it more wine?”

It was not more wine, but rather a hefty bundle of letters, tied up in golden thread. Your handwriting littered the outside, detailing dates and times neatly at first until he got to the last few, lines shakier and less steady. The dates started the day he agreed to help you with his research, but your eyes rifled through the bunch until you pointed out a few.

“Could you read these first? You can read the rest when I’m gone.” He listened, gingerly removing them from the rest and unfurling it. 

Parting hour’s second quint, tenth month

‘I dreamt of Kremnos last night, I don’t know whether it was a part of my dream but it felt like it was. I was younger, I could run so much faster and I could do so much more. You were younger too, but you were chained up in a cell and I had to come to your rescue. Could you believe that? Me? Saving you?

You looked so angry but I couldn’t hear you. I can’t remember much but I remember crying a lot, cursing while I fought off guards? I think they were guards, you’ll have to tell me what Kremnoan guards wore when you come back. My back hurts a little bit, my body probably thinks I was actually hurt. 

Praise be to Kephale, wishing you safety upon your journey.’

Entry hour’s first quint, tenth month

‘I dreamt of you again. Maybe this is a sign of me missing you? This dream felt real, I think I’ve had it many times before but this was the only time I could recognise who was there with me. Did you know I wanted to be a doctor when I was younger? I only curse my vanity for my being a scholar now. 

You were holding me so tightly while I said things, I don’t remember but I know you kept telling me to stay awake. I wish you were here, maybe I could see how you would react to these ridiculous dreams. Would you tell me I have a hyperactive imagination? Only the gods know how many times I’ve heard that from Potnia in my youth. I have a feeling you would indulge me just a little bit though.

Praise be to Kephale, wishing you a most swift return’

Curtain-fall hour’s fourth quint, eleventh month

‘I can’t sleep and I hadn’t the energy to write this morn so I thought to do so now, funny because Skotia keeps telling me I need to do more than sleep the day away. I remembered hearing a debate between my peers arguing on the matter of the afterlife back in my schooling days. One of them said all souls join our gods but another said that souls must return to the living, otherwise our lands would grow barren of life. They argued like that for about an hour until they were forced to leave. I completely forgot about it but with so much time alone, I couldn’t help but to think about it.

I keep seeing you in my dreams, myself as a warrior or a healer, but you remain the same. I dreamt of marrying you beneath the warmth of Kremnos one night, and I dreamt of carrying a young child through the mountains with you on another. The details are consistent, and I can only surmise that perhaps my peer had been correct about reincarnation. 

When you come back, I want to know about the beaches of Cypris and the courting traditions of Kremnos. You should know, right? It's okay if you don’t remember, I just want to talk to someone for longer than an hour again.

Praise be to Kephale, I wish to see you most soon’

Gripping onto the furled scrolls, he managed to meet your eyes, gentle. Still so gentle. 

“How did you know?”

With a wistful sigh, you dropped your gaze to your hands, flexing them as your rings glinted in the light. “I recognised the architecture, it really was as beautiful as you say.”

“My third life huh… Who else can say that?”

“I want to have more time with you. Maybe fourth time’s the charm.”

“Maybe next time you won’t get a wrinkly old thing like me,” You sounded so amused, yet your voice carried that undertone of remorse. 

Next time? He never knows whether there’ll ever be a next time. 

Outrage– no. Rage was an emotion too simple for what he felt then. It was fear, desperation, regret and guilt all honed into one lethal lance to be thrust into him, and such a wound was not one that could be utilised against the wielder, for one could not tear the machinations of death.

His voice trembled, and those walls crumbled ever more in the face of your acceptance, “Don’t say that, no matter what form you take, I’ll–”

“You don’t have to lie to old me.”

“You’re not that old,” Mydei insisted, pulling you closer when a shiver wracked through your form. He wanted to bring you back to your room, how the mildest of winds could dissuade you, but even now he knew you would have fought him on this one decision. 

As though playing along with a young child, you shook your head and smiled, “Yes, yes, I’m as youthful as you and beautiful as Bepsis.”

“You are,” He insisted once more. “There is no one more beautiful than you.”

It was clear you still didn’t believe him and maybe if you’d have more time together, he would have spent more effort convincing you otherwise. He settled for the softening of your features, even after the passing of the years, you still looked as radiant as the day you fell from the skies. 

Resting your head against his shoulder, your voice grew quieter. 

“I feel like I could make you do anything now.”

“Will you find me? Next time we meet?”

“No matter where you are, I will bring you back.”

“Then, will you marry me when you do?”

“If you wish so, we can get married as soon as I find you.”

“Will you–” Usually so eloquent, your words lodged in your throat as you turned away from him. “Would you really keep loving me? Even if I change?”

He took your hands in his own, pressing a kiss to each of your palms and drank in the sight of your widened eyes and parted lips. 

“I will sooner die than ever stop.”

For all his years in your presence, that rendered you speechless. And so you resorted to merely lying against him, muttering in rambled pace as you asked him about cremation or burial, on eulogies and your will to him. When the descent hour eventually fell, and so did your last words from your lips, Mydei could only tuck you closer into his embrace. 

Delayer of old age. Your work will be tucked away in the shelves of great libraries, but it is only your most private writings that will remain immortal. 

This time, he’ll be one who searches for you. He had nothing, for all he knows, you could have been reborn in Janusopolis or some long thrown region like Cytheri. Even then, he was willing to traverse the whole of Amphoreus if it meant he would be able to see you once more. 

But Mydei finds you, far easier than he had expected, in the depths of the Marmoreal Palace just as the crimson thief star falls. That feeling that tugged at his tendons and played with his heart grew harder to ignore as he wandered sleepless amidst the ivory halls, and though he knew what it meant, he did not know where to go. 

Tucked away amongst shelves and shelves of records with the hum of flowing waters to accompany him, that rush in his veins came to a stand still all of a sudden. Hunched over a random table and multiple open scrolls, he supposes that he’ll have to keep his first impression of you drooling onto what seemed like important accounts to himself. 

It was endearing, he had to admit. Lashes fluttering as you babbled some nonsense he couldn’t quite hear, he took a few steps closer and your hands swatted at the dust around you. Anyone could have just snatched you away and you would have none the wiser. He stayed, somewhere further of course, otherwise who knows who might come to rob you naked. 

And if the sight of seeing you resting so peacefully helped his own slumber, he won’t tell. 

Child of Aidonia, follower of none, sharp witted and deathly reticent. Eye bags hanging ever present, arms constantly holding onto baskets of scrolls and ever ready to abandon your duties for a quick nap, the chief accountant is a position few envied and for good reason. 

There was only one matter that troubled him, and that was exactly the nature of your job that meant seeking you out would be out of the ordinary. For what reason could he possibly devise to approach you? You reported directly to Aglaea and the council elders, all inquiries were directed to your subordinates and unless it was a matter that was urgent and required utmost discretion, you hid yourself away within the confines of your work desk.  

He had once debated requesting your services to directly manage the accounts under his name, but when he thought of your drowsing form still writing and babbling about your work, he decided against it.  

As the entry hour welcomes the new day, Mydei thought he got his chance when he saw you scampering towards Demetria with your basket, hair half done and the scowl on your face all but indicative of the current state you were operating in. The transaction is quick, barely any words exchanged as the older woman drops two pomegranates into your basket of scrolls while you drop a sack of balance coins by a crate. 

Your scampering grows louder and louder, and perhaps he shouldn’t have been so entranced with even that sight of you since his first real, proper greeting is a hard thump into his shoulder. The contact does little but to send the contents of your basket flying, and though he has the reflexes to catch a few of your documents and the fruit, not everything is so lucky. 

Dropping to your knees, your hands flew across the ground to gather everything back as you yammered, “I am– I am so sorry. I wasn’t– I haven’t–”

And when he offers what he has on hand, you snatch them back just as quick, blanching at him before rushing off, at least not before wheezing out a pathetic, “Sorry!” 

You’re skinnier, he belatedly notices. Your face should not look so gaunt, nor should your grip be so weak. It was as if the mildest of winds could have drifted you away if you weren’t paying attention. 

The thought of how to approach you lingers in his thoughts even as the Chrysos Heirs gather to discuss the state of their mission. He can’t even properly retort when Phainon says something ridiculous, offering a weak remark about how he’s not a single good thing in that head of his rather than scathing snark. 

There isn’t much information recent nor shocking enough that he feels the need to fully push you away from his internal contemplation. Tribbie is about to say something when there’s a rhythmic thump that cuts through the air, and yet despite the interruption, no one pays you much mind when you all but slip yourself to the front, arms still filled with that basket. 

“Lady Aglaea, I apologise for my interrupting but I have the reports you required.” Your voice is soft, marred with some elements of sleep but still reaching the ears of your intended. “I will leave them by the table if that is okay.”

“It is quite alright. Now that it has come to this, I believe we can bring this meeting to an end.” 

Though everyone else trickles out of the room with varying levels of enthusiasm, he finds that he can’t tear his eyes away from you, even as an aggrieved expression crosses your face, the sight a fleeting minute but more than enough to spark a streak reserved for you. The grimace barely lasts, but it doesn’t diminish the desire to remove the source of your troubles yet still. 

As you’re looking around, shiftily, as though you’ve done something wrong, your eyes meet his in a misplaced act of carelessness. In an instant, your tendons and ligaments shrink as you visibly tense at the brief eye contact. He wants to apologise, but then the thought of scaring you even more springs up on him far more shameful than any trap and so he doesn’t. 

The goldweaver is quick to usher you away to somewhere more private, your tucked in shoulders only further highlighting the difference in your states. It was as if you were trying to make yourself smaller, trying to make yourself near unobservable to anyone else. 

An approach of familiar steps is what ultimately snaps him out of his foolish trance, humour and some hint of disquiet seeps into a man’s voice, and when he brings himself to consider another presence beyond your own, he is graced with the deliverer’s amused grin.

The young man muses to no one in particular, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, “This is the first time you’ve lingered so long after a meeting.”

“That’s none of your business.” Biting back, he averts his gaze from your now laxed form. The diversion lasts but a second, before from the corner of his perception, he catches how the resigned breath that leaves your lips as you slip back out from whence you came. 

Phainon follows after his abandoned trail with ventured interest. “Who knew that you of all people could get so googly eyed at…” Yet it is only when he gets a proper look at who exactly has captured the attention of his companion, his voice trickles off to little else but confusion, “The chief accountant?”

A huff escapes him, now that you have left, there was no point remaining here. “I’m leaving.”

Metal thumps against marble floors, for someone to slink out of his awareness so quickly, let alone you, would be impressive if not for the fact that he really still has no clue how he was going to talk to you without somehow upsetting your seemingly skittish senses. 

“Hey! Wait!” Chasing after him with the fervor of a loyal dog, the only clue of how far exactly his search for you has taken him is by Phainon’s unprepared wheeze that even he has to admit, forced an even smaller snort out of the Kremnoan prince. 

“If you really want to talk to them, I can get you just that.”

Mydei has the decency to face him, a brow cocking up in disbelief as he urgently suppresses that ugly feeling he only knew existed a few decades ago. “You? How would you even be able to do that?”

“You’d be surprised by the kinds of deals they cut,” The youth smiles, still panting as he slaps a friendly hand over his shoulder, a move that he doesn’t push off as the younger man begins his ‘master plan’. 

Phainon’s plan sucks. 

The warm light from hanging vessels of ever flame shine upon your features, bound up hair absorbing the light as you lead him through desks and shelves of sprawled books and people alike. Hands move at a pace bordering languid scrawl and eyes heavy with listlessness scan across multiple rows of work. Yet when they notice his towering form following after yours, their idle activity picks up to a peak, a notion that seems to surprise you judging by your raised brows. 

You’ve exchanged little else but pleasantries the moment you saw who had called upon you, and once more he curses that white-haired idiot in his head for not even telling you. For someone so brilliant, this was the best he could come up with? He could have sworn he was lying but when he insisted up and down, swore on his name that he was telling the truth, far more desperately than he’s ever seen now that he looks back in hindsight, he relented.

You keep a steady stride despite the way your hands pick at your nails, and though you remained silent for what seems like the entire walk, you deign to give a younger man some matter of note as you draw closer to what appeared to be your office. 

As Mydei is ushered in, the feeling of being trapped closes down onto him before anything else. The room is upsettingly small, made only more so with the looming bookshelves filled to the brim with records and books. He barely has the space to fully stretch out his limbs unless he wants to knock some important matter or two out of its place, and if he does, he has no doubt you would boycott any further interactions with him for life. 

Beyond that, this pathetic excuse you called an office only had one other chair, a poor little thing he had to shift baskets upon baskets just to sit properly on. 

You couldn’t seriously live like this, could you? 

You don’t seem to mind any of it, settling down into your own seat as you hum to yourself, “Having someone they actually respect is the only way they’ll listen nowadays, they’re certainly doing much better with you here than when Lord Phainon offers his services.”

“You make it sound as if you’re being tortured,” All he manages is a brash riposte, and for a quick moment he almost believed you would shirk from his presence again. 

Yet, you do little else than to bark out a sharp laugh, shaking your head as you murmur some incomprehensible vent. Glancing at him from beneath your lashes, your attention now fully directed to the sprawling scrolls across your desk, you tip your head to the side to urge his heed.

“Anyhow, I have food on the platter by my desk if you get peckish and an amphora of water on the shelves.”

“If you’d like, you can wander around though there isn’t much to see.”

For the next four hours, you’ve essentially shut him out from your perceptions as you pour over documents with names that did not belong to you, calculate matters as big as annual tax rates and small as the price of the ambrosia served in the palace. 

There’s little else for him to do beyond reminding you to drink water, a notion you only mildly indulge him in, and glaring at any slacking fool that comes looking to dump more work on you. The only person who he lets come in is the youth from before, a young blond who only periodically drops by to take baskets of completed work off your hands. 

The distress of your working conditions, and living conditions now that he’s been privy to many more of your little life within the marble walls, haunts him for days. It appeared that you weren’t the only one plagued with such woes, but you are certainly the one most affected by the inefficiency that infected your department. And yet, you did nothing to counter it, allowing your meagre office to grow so encroached with the faults of others all the while you smile and suck it up. 

Another issue that can’t be solved with his hands. 

When the hours grow late and the thief stars threaten to race across the bright skies once more, he finds the opportunity to ask you. The response hurts him more than he would like it to, and he wishes more than anything that he could take this suffering from you. 

“Does it not bother you? That you have to do all the work?”

You smile at his question, the corners of your eyes crinkle together as a sardonic smile tugs at your lips. The flames of light dances within them, infusing your weary features with a spirited edge. In these quiet little moments where your every expression belongs only to him, no matter what emotion you present to him, he selfishly indulges in every inch of annoyance and mile of rue. 

Vexation of the utmost resignation falls from your lips, droplets of water clinging to the soft skin. “I have little say over it, and it seems like with every new person that gets added to my team, my pay gets lower and my work gets heavier all because some old coots want their perfect little children to have the joy of a prestigious job without any of the miseries.”

“Do I look happy?” You hum.

Of course you don’t. He’s known you couldn’t possibly be happy the first time he’s laid eyes on you. But foolishly, he had hoped that you could find some sliver of joy from your work. 

You are about to return to your work when he gingerly rises from his seat, offering an open palm to you. Your face twists, but it brings your hand to a standstill. 

Mydei offers once more, “Come.”

“What?” Despite your confusion, you put down your pen and take his hand. Your palm is warm, slotting perfectly in his as he waits for you to straighten yourself out. 

“I’m going out for something other than recycled air, and you look like you need a break from your self mutilation.”

A smile, one devoid of your neverending complaint or your heavy burden, blooms across your lips. And so he spirits you away from these walls of shelves and marble, jewellery and fabric dancing behind your rushed steps as though two lovers eloping from the eyes of the world. When you are eventually unable to keep up with him, he hefts you over his shoulder with nothing more than a brief stop, returning back to your fleet-footed journey. 

The squeak that leaves your lips and the giggled mirth falling as easily as rain against him sends pleasant shivers through his bones, and he’s certain that he’ll think of those sweet sounds when you must eventually part. 

He only sets you down when you’ve reached a garden hidden away from anyone who could possibly disturb you. Surrounded by the virtue of life, basking under the grace of heavenly light, free from those confines, he thinks he’s fallen in love all over again. 

There stands you, leaning over marble railings and smiling at him, and now he’s all too aware of every movement he makes, every little twitch of your fingers and every inflection in your voice. 

“I think I would’ve fallen dead over my desk if you didn’t drag me out here,” You laugh, joy and relief flickering in your eyes as you urge him over. 

He listens. Of course he does. You could have him leap off this ledge and he would have done so if it means pleasing you. 

You talk of everything and nothing. Your work, your meals, the pleasant conversation you’ve had with Phainon, how sweet the cloying wine you sneaked one night was. You spoke as if given a deadline on your life, and he held onto each and every piece you would give him, even as you devolved into petered silence. 

That wretched star appears across the west, Mydei leans closer. “If there’s anything you want done, tell me.”

You only brush him off, as if indulging a child, “I couldn’t, you’ve done so much for me already.”

How can he tell you that he wants to be your shield and your spear? How can he tell you that beyond anything else, he wants to ensure that every waking day you spend, it is one that is filled with nothing but felicity. And if you would let him, how can he tell you that he wants nothing more than to lay by your side once more? 

“Okhema would probably collapse if you die, and I can’t have that,” He continues, and you only laugh once more. 

Perhaps not Okhema, but he would. 

That too, he keeps to himself.  

‘Got the day off and they’re doing a promo on those pancakes, you want?’

When Mydei’s teleslate lights up with your name decorating its screen, he scarcely has to even read before he’s racing off to your side. 

The face you give him when he does appear, in front of a plate of golden honeycakes and a chalice of what he knows is apple juice, could only be described as incredulous. No matter that this must be the thousandth time he’s done so, you always act as if it was the first.

“You’re here fast,” You hummed with a pleasant squeeze of your eyes. 

“You asked me out, and knowing you, you’d probably have to abandon ship to get back to work.”

He delights in the mock offence that immediately twists your features, the dramatic show of your arms, you even go so far as to hold a finger up, sipping from your cup before continuing. “Don’t curse me, I’m really looking forward to these.”

It's cute, he is certain you don’t realise that your dramatics are something he looks forward to even now. 

Picking up your fork with poorly hidden anticipation, the metal surface spreads an even amount of sweet fruit syrup over the tower of cakes, and as you cut away a small piece, your teleslate rings to life upon the table. 

A glower pulls onto his face, and what feels like the nth time, he understands in his gut how annoyed you must have been the first time this happened. His own irritation could not possibly compare to that of your own, the sheer chagrin that manifests in every limb is only masked by the sufferance you’ve honed so long ago. 

As you pick up the call, your eyes close and your fingers press against your temple. “Hel– Hey!”

Still careful to not accidentally yank too hard, he snatches the device from your hand  and checks the contact. Not Adon. Free game. 

“They’re with me, if you have anything important it can wait until tomorrow,” Hissing into the speaker, he hears the person on the other end sputter out some remark about ‘unfinished reports’ and ‘mistaken data’ before he merely snorts and hangs up. 

As if you were the one making some asinine mistakes easily fixed, you leap out of your skin, stealing your teleslate back before rushing to pack up. “I don’t even know who that was! Shit! I have to go back, I’m sorry but–” 

Mydei has to grab you by the arm before you start running off on him again, an act that has you staring at him wide-eyed and betrayed. 

“You said so yourself, you have the day off. And you’re spending it without worrying about what some freeloading idiot’s dad thinks,” He says, as clear as day and obvious as the skies. 

“If anyone has a problem with that, they can talk to me.”

It takes a little more than that to convince you to stay, in fact, it requires footing your bill and being fed more than half of your pancakes for you to not go running off without his discretion again. But, there’s a noticeable lightness to your shoulders, and watching you eat so well is more than enough for him.  

The descent hour has fallen upon this day, and your eyes keep glancing between him and the passing folk, then lower and back to the streets. You tense again, shrinking within yourself when he meets your gaze with little more than a raised brow. Acting as if you’ve been caught stealing, your ears flush hot as you rush to break the eye contact between you two. 

Mydei leans closer to you, he notices some remnants of red syrup clinging to your lip, “What?”

“Nothing! I was just…” You swallow hard. “...just thinking about what to gift my cousin for their wedding.”

Somehow, he doubts that but he’d sooner drop dead than get you to admit what goes on in that head of yours. Instead, he settles for wiping off the stain of sweet fruit from your bottom lip with his thumb, licking it off when he pulls away. That only worsens the burning beneath your skin, and for the rest of your time together, all he gets from you is wide-eyed stares and rambled sputtering.

The Kremnoan leaves you at your doorstep that day, pomegranates pushed into his hands and a very, very oddly, high pitched farewell. 

For the days following up to an annual get together, your actions have only gotten more and more odd to him. It isn’t quite the same in which you used to be, bothering him for this and that despite being able to ask anyone else, no. This course of mannerism you have chosen to go with is odd in the sense that it's confusing. 

Although Mydei still joins you in your office whenever he has the chance, your voice doesn’t fill his ears quite as much. He has grown so used to your hushed mutterings of percentages and one sided conversations that now, he absolutely hates only being able to hear your writing. Every now and then, you would glance up at him and look away, murmuring beneath your breath before you’d squeeze your non-dominant hand tight. 

He writes off your new behaviour as the effect of an overloaded workload. You’re still asking him to join you on your days off, you’re still staining your hands red with fruit to give him, you’re still welcoming his presence. He can accept that. 

Your absence from his side during said get together is the only thing that worries him most, the glimpses he gets of you from afar just barely satiates that hunger to see you, to be near you. There’s still that flush aglow beneath your skin, your eyes crinkling together as you smile and laugh along to whatever it is that blond assistant of yours said. The warm lights cast a radiance onto your features, onto the valleys of your chest and the curves of your shoulders, a sight that once belonged to only him. Your lips wet and plied with drink, your tongue swipes over them but even that sends a heat through his form. 

It's an ugly feeling, worse than anger or regret. Those had reason to exist, could be made into something bigger than petty disgust, but this… whatever this emotion is, can only be left to stew. He thinks he hates it more than anything else. 

The prince must force himself to look away from you, an agonising feat he hadn’t even thought was possible until now. He makes that treacherous mind of his listen to the conversation to be had, endures Phainon’s teasing and the curious looks, anything to shift those thoughts of you out of his head. He makes himself smirk at snide remarks and offers advice, he makes himself ignore the intrigued look on that white-haired idiot’s face when he follows after his meandering gaze. 

It doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t work. It is as if every part of him was made to search for you, and just sitting here knowing that you are but a few metres away is a torment he would not wish on anyone. He would rather you claw his heart with your own two hands than this, at least then you would be pouring your undivided emotion into him, at least then he would be the only one to have this part of you. 

You’re the last remaining by the time the gathering dies down, with Adon trying and failing to pull you out of your seat, your hands waving him away as you mumble out something. And as he approaches you, you seem to perk up at his presence, a matter that he preens at internally. 

Smiling at him, baring teeth and joy, you gesture for him to come closer with little care for your assistant’s nagging. “You’re here.”

A glance is all it takes for the blonde to throw in the towel, shrugging his shoulders before slinking out. Mydei takes this opportunity to bask under your gaze far swifter than logic should dictate, his form sidling to sit beside you and yet, you are faster, pressing yourself to his side as a strap upon your shoulder slips down. 

“And you’re sitting here like you’ve been abandoned, because?” He manages a response, shooting his eyes upwards as he tentatively pulls up your fallen strap. 

You don’t seem to notice, your arms drape around him as the weight of your body slumps, “I’m sleepy. And wine makes me say things people don’t like.”

He can feel your chest pressing into his arm, he can feel everything if he was to be honest with himself. Your gentle touch dancing on his skin, the warm breath from your lips, his every vein and bone, he’s so keenly aware of it all that he’s certain that a weaker man would have been rendered dead by your feet. 

Your wide eyes meet his, watery with slumber and fiery with something distantly related to reliance. 

“...come, I’ll take you back.”

Just like a time long before, he scoops you into his embrace and carries you through marble walls and flowing waters. Your feet dangle and kick along your mirth, and when you shiver from the wind, he simply holds you closer. This pleases you ever more, and knowing that even that could elicit such sweet sounds from you forced a flush of his own onto his cheeks. 

With you like this, he can pretend that you’ve accepted these feelings for you the moment you met. He can pretend that he’s carrying you back to your shared home where he can place you into your sleepwear and lay next to you. He can pretend that what you feel for him is more than cursory friendship. 

You wave at those sacked with the late shift all the while you babble about this and that, of your increased salary and the new flavour he must try when you get your next chance. There was no rhyme or reason to your rambling, but it is still yours, and so selfishly, he takes it. The Kremnoan man tries his best to respond, humming along to your prattle or offering an answer to your rhetorical questions, and even if your pace simply outpaces his own, he can’t help but to indulge you. 

“Y’know, my family keeps asking me when I’m going to get married. But they don't even know that the only people I see consistently are my staff, Lady Algaea and you and I can’t possibly get married to any of you!” Your voice is louder than usual, as though scared he wouldn’t listen. 

“And sure sometimes I dream of you and we’re always doing some sappy bullshit but those are dreams y’know? I’m pretty sure it's some weird past life thing but that feels worse. So there’s no way you could possibly love me when you have a face as handsome as that but every time I wake up it feels so nice so when I see you in my office I pretend you really are in love with me.”

You close your eyes, he’s not sure whether the glow on your cheeks is from the alcohol or emotion, and you giggle into your hands, “I had this dream you even took me once! No way is that happening!”

He can barely believe his ears at this moment, barely process your speech. His brain has almost likened your drunken chatter for a different tongue that he can’t even muster a response. All he manages is a choked out, “You…”

“Ahh, it's fine. I’m sure you’ll get tired of me one day, they always do.” Resting your head as casually as if uttering the weather rather than implying he could do anything other than love you, you turn those watery eyes onto him again, and like a death sentence, he feels his heart ache. “If I fall asleep, can you stay? I’d feel bad if you didn't.”

Mydei doesn’t get the chance to respond, still too struck with the weight of your words to realise you’ve fallen to slumber in his embrace. 

‘...I pretend you really are in love with me.’

Pretend. How foolish of the both of you, that two separate minds would both desire the other’s love yet be too cowardly to seek it out, to pretend that the other is in love with you. 

Then the next part fully registers in his head, and then the last. 

He opens the door to your house, closing it behind him as he settles you into your bed. The prince is half tempted to steal into the night, but when his eyes inevitably drift to your sleeping form, drool leaking onto your pillow as you mutter nonsense to yourself, he can’t bring himself to leave you. 

How could he ever grow tired of you? If anything, with every passing day he spends in your very existence, he falls deeper into the abyss called love. He can scarcely remember what your past lives looked like anymore, in his memories they all have your face and your voice, and he wonders now how much of it is because of this ache in his chest. 

Your gentle touches, your barking laughter, your sharp remarks, your rambling speeches. The way you look at him as if he is nothing more than a mortal man. 

In your befuddled slumber, his name falls from your lips, again and again until something he never thought he’d ever hear comes tumbling out, “...I love you too, Mydeimos.”

He wants nothing more than just to be a mortal man who loves you. 

That him of the past that once said torment was to be in the same room with you yet unable to be by your side could not possibly have known that there is greater affliction. 

He awoke in your house with the sunlight streaming through your window and your blanket carefully draped over him, the smell of your soap clinging to the fabric and his senses. There was a cup of water on your bedside table, left there with nothing to accompany it. He half expected to hear you shuffling back in or your faucet running from somewhere, and yet there was no one but him left alone once more. 

Every morning he passes by the fruit vendor, Demetria is bound to ask about your wellbeing and not even he can find the heart to tell her. So he affirms her theory of your rush and takes your pomegranates, leaving the exact amount needed to pay despite her protests.

Every morning he is barred entry from your office, and all he can do is leave your fruit in Adon's hands. 

You’re cruel. To have offered all your love onto a golden platter then snatched it away the moment he thought he could finally have it. He’d rather never have your love than to never see you again. 

Since becoming so keenly intertwined with your life, he waits until the thief star appears upon the eastern skies to find you. He knows there won’t be anyone, and foolishly, he hopes that means you’ll be honest with him. 

“As I’ve said, they aren’t currently taking visitors right now. Not only that, but it's literally the crack ass of curtain-fall, go back.”

But as always with you, it seems that Adon is somehow always there to be his obstacle. The youth is obstinate in his insistence that Mydei not even be allowed to leave a message, and for a man who has rarely ever wished violence on those undeserving, he’s starting to wonder how much you pay him if it means that lap dog would stop his path so earnestly and whether its worth it. 

With closed eyes and an exhausted sigh, you emerge from your office reprimanding the blond, “Adon, who the hell are you arguing with? Just because Lord Mydei hasn’t been h–”

You must have been expecting someone else to so easily hang his name by his lips, but it's clear that his appearance is not one you appreciate right now. 

The first thing he notices is the tear tracks down your face, akin to fiery magma when illuminated by the torches hanging above. They’re fresh, still dripping from your lashes as you gape at him. Your lips have been bitten entirely raw and bloody, crimson staining beneath your nails. 

Your assistant scowls and twists to shove you back in, but you catch him before he can do so, averting your eyes as you hiss, “Let him in.”

Only then does the blond relent, still sending him a nasty look before you send the youth one yourself, effectively hushing Adon. 

Your office somehow feels even smaller than it did when you first met. You seemed to have abandoned the thought of organisation as now even the floor is littered with scrolls and baskets. He, and you, have but a small patch of clear space, an arm’s length away. 

There is no pomegranate by your desk, not even the carcass of one at this late hour.

Faced with your back, with your clear sorrow and misery, the thought of spilling his most vulnerable emotions vacates. 

“You’ve been crying.”

“You’d cry too if you had to do what I’m doing.” You only retort, voice barely above a whisper as though to not betray that facade you always put up, “Is that all you came to say?”

You won’t look at him. 

Mydei calls your name and your shoulders shrink onto themselves, a repressed weep wracking through your form. He calls for you again, “Is someone bullying you? Who is it?”

You still won’t look at him. 

He wants to throw his pride off this ledge, he wants to lay his head by your feet, he just wants to bring your face into his hands and take your suffering from you. Because if Nikador has cursed him with this undying body, then let him put it into good use for you.  

Not daring to reach for you, his voice fractures at its very foundations, “Please. Tell me what is bothering you, if I have done anything to wrong you–”

“Wrong me? Mydei,” You rasp, words all too shaky as your eyes spill more of your salient despair. “It is exactly because you didn’t that I can’t stand looking at you.”

You’ve never been particularly eloquent, not with him, not now. Not as you choke on your own emotion and words, pawing at your bloodshot eyes and clawing at your scalp. “I– I can’t– I’m not– why are you—”

Your knees weaken, and before they can give out on you, he reaches forward to soften your fall. Mydei pays no mind to the brief shock of pain that comes from the sudden action, instead focusing on how much harder your chest heaves and your desperation for breath as you collapse into yourself. It only worsens when you see him by your side, when you realise what he’s done for you. 

“Breathe, you have time.” He forces you to sit up, keeping his distance despite how badly he wants to hold you.

You shake your head, trying your best to speak as clearly as possible, “I can’t– I’m not– the kind of person people like you should care about.”

“And why not? Do you think I would be so cruel to you?” He asks, like an idiot. 

“I don’t know!” You snap, because really, your patience for him should only go this far. “I can’t throw myself into glorious battle for you, or protect you. I can’t do anything for you! For all I know, the only reason you’re even here is so you can fulfill what a version of me wants.”

“But guess what? That me is dead! Every single version of me you love is dead! And all you have now is a pathetic fool who thought they could have that too!”

He stares at you, your wet eyes and wet anger, your humiliation he now understands burning at every single rational thought that could possibly cross your mind. 

Mydei has failed you. 

You’re finally looking at him but your sorrow shrouds you, you still won’t look at him.

He doesn’t know what to say, he knows that at this very moment you might not believe him but you have time, you have time together and that’s all he needs. 

Inching closer, he takes your lack of movement as a sign of acceptance. 

“I could care less about what you can or can’t do for me, I love you no matter who you are, regardless of who you were.”

They’re warm, he finds your hands and cradles them within his own and he can feel every line and scar that has marred the soft skin. The soft act rips another flinch from you, but you don’t move away, staring at him with wide eyes and quivering lips. 

He presses his lips to your non-dominant hand, littering gentle kisses along each and every bloodied mark as he murmurs, “You could tear every tendon from my body and I would still crawl back to you.”

Your dominant hand, the one that wields a weapon far more lethal than any lance, is most deserving of this. “If you think my love for you is that shallow, I am willing to spend the rest of our lives proving otherwise over and over again.”

More tears only streamed down your cheeks when he finishes, but the way you lean closer into him, it is as if you’re all he can see and all he will know. He would like that, for the world to fall away for just this moment so that he can show you how much he adores you on his knees. 

“Would you…?” You don’t finish your question. You don’t need to.  

‘You’re beautiful here, under warm lights and with wet eyes, in your too small office and your undone hair’, Mydei thinks, selfishly, ‘and in his arms’. 

He holds you against him as tight as he can, as if slackening his hold would let you slip away from him. The arms that drape themselves atop his shoulders seem to share that very same fear, and when a hand of his slings itself on your hip, a soft sob escapes your sweet mouth. Your body is still twisted in some odd angle, spine trying to compensate for the distortion before he simply shifts your legs proper himself. 

Your eyes upon him, reflection bearing only him, you’re looking at him. Before he can say anything, you lean in for a clumsy kiss. 

Teeth clack together as the taste of your blood and tears fill his senses, his lip catches on your canines at times but you’re quick to correct course, adjusting your head to avoid nipping him anymore. He responds in kind, squeezing his arms around you harder as he presses into the kiss. 

You kiss like a starved man, taking everything he gives you as if he’d take it back the next. The prince yields to you, providing little protest in a way he will only ever for you. 

Murmuring against your bloodied lips and sharp teeth, he promises to you, “...over and over again, as long as you let me.”

Adon received the title of vice-chief the day a few days after your honest confrontation. You had vouched for the young man in an effort to reward the new talent but based on the youth's horror struck face, you’re half certain that he’s been cursing you out in his head since the revelation. 

Anyhow, with Adon being able to exercise a higher degree of power and the threat of actually being sacked hanging above some staff’s heads, you happily filed a request for leave and immediately took off the moment it got approved. 

At least, that must be what your love was hoping for. 

Kneeling by the desk of your office, you gestured towards a few baskets surrounding it as your eyes darted between the documents on the table and Adon’s dying hope. “These need to be done and in Lady Aglaea’s hands before I get back, if not, we’re all going to get it.”

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations on your wedding too, don’t die I guess,” Without wasting a minute, he rolls his eyes as his hands start the first few stages of preparation. And as if you were deaf, he mutters under his breath, “What kind of world are we living in that you get married within three months?”

“A nice one that rewards people who get work done.”

The blond just sneers, “Pah, if I didn’t know better I’d ask which old bag you shacked up with to be looking like this.”

There was a kernel of truth to such an acerbic statement, truth be told ever since your feelings have been pitched down by the weight of your lover’s clarity, you’ve had the excess time to put more effort into your appearance. Well, effort is an understatement as now you’ve been receiving and wearing the many gifts as per customary of the wedding process. Golden hairpieces, necklaces with deep sapphires, rings to adorn your fingers, robes of smooth sheen draped over your shoulders, to the untrained eye, you appeared more of a nobleman’s spoiled wife than the chief accountant of the Marmoreal Palace.  

“And if you did know better you wouldn’t have said that,” Your voice comes out a hum, less interested in disturbing the boy from his work than waiting for a certain someone. 

When the sounds of chatter die and the scrawl of writing starts, you still feel lightheaded at the thought of him, at the sight of him. Striding amidst the now hard at work, a smile breaks onto your face as you urge for him to come closer. 

“My love!”

Mydei sends a triumphant glance at the now grimacing Adon as he enters the cramped room, ignoring the fake gagging and retching with an open hand offered to you. “Have you sorted everything? Or will you leave me high and dry for the palace’s ‘negative’ cash flow again?”

“That was one time!”

“Of course, as you say,” He only raises a brow and grins at your rebuttal. 

You’ll dig yourself out of any grave for him. Thanatos will have to fight you tooth and claw for you to consider ever leaving him again. How could you possibly leave him here? Even thinking about it spirits you. 

You want to spend the rest of your days with him under the bright light of day, you want to fuss and talk his ears off as he looks at you with those lovestruck eyes, you want to return to his homeland and learn all there is about him. You want to be a person who loves him more than ever. 

Taking his hand into yours, you bring it up to press a soft kiss to his palm, gentle and cherished. A small smile is all you can muster, “You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me now.”

“As if I could ever.” 

Mydei leans closer, as though fettering himself to you for the rest of time untold. 

“Can you two get out?!”

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

Weird idea but i think arjuna alter would get along really well with Nursery Rhyme

i think youre right though they definitely have that vibe

[yaut-jaknowit]

Predator x a former Weyland-Yutani researcher who does NOT want their children anywhere near a xenomorph at any point in time/is not so hot onnthe whole "hunting the most dangerous game" thing in general.

Monsters Under The Bed

Character: Woftik (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2077

Summary: On the north end of the planet, the cold weather is brutal. Only the strong survive. One of your children is nearing their chiva. The blooding ceremony where she could die. You didn't want her to go. She's still your baby to you. Still so small like the day she was born. But Woftik is the leader of the tribe. This must be done.

Author Note: This thought process for many of those who have children with Yautjas is probably high. Humans aren't used to such a thing. Sometimes it works in their favor, but others... not so much.

Masterlist

Ao3

“I will not allow our child to be slaughter by those, by those monsters!” you screamed off at the top of your head. Tears streamed down your sticky cheeks. A finger was shoved into Woftik’s chest, not even making the Yautja sway. “It’s one thing for you to go out there and hunt but it’s another to send our child to their deaths!”

Out of all the things he could’ve said today, you weren’t expecting him to state it’s time for your daughter to become a newly blooded. Woftik had been training her since she could walk how to hunt. Hunting normal things for food or necessity. Not going off to fight an eight-legged creature who only comes out at certain times in a year. This thing lives in caves. Caves. Limited space to fight. The beast was around twenty feet tall, scary beyond belief, and – oh, could kill your daughter! How did he not understand this?!

Woftik let you yell at him, let you take your anger out at him. An angry partner was bad. But he knew better from experience not to feed into the energy. After some time, you’ll wear yourself out eventually.

The nonreaction from him only pissed you off more. It gave you the wrong signals. As if, he didn’t care about you or your feelings or your daughter. Your fists trembled at your sides. You were red in the face, hot headed and all. “You don’t care?! You don’t care she could die because it’s part of your culture to send your children to death. But, I will not stand for this.” You put down your foot firmly and jabbed your finger into his chest again.

Only a brow lifted to acknowledge the jab. “Woftik, you will not send Vo to her death. I will not stand for this. I don’t care if its part of your culture.” With your past experience with Weyland-Yutani, you knew some of their culture and history. Dangerous. Death. That’s the foundations that you saw. Kill or be killed in their line of work.

Why in all the years did you decide to free this asshole and allow him to take you away from earth. You will never know what you were thinking back then. Young and stupid. Here comes this big, burly, monster who sweeps you off your feet and saves you after saving him. How idiotic you were. Cause now look at the trouble that’s put you in.

After all the yelling, releasing the pent up anger, the energy left your body. You panted, shoulders heaving while glaring up at the giant off white Yautja in front of you. His stance or features hadn’t even changed once since the start of the argument. You wanted to get angry all over again but saw no point. If he won’t budge, what’s the point to try again?

“Woftik,” you soft call his name. The glare on your face turning into a pleading expression. “Please.”

One of his upper mandibles twitched. “Sweetheart.” Woftik cupped your hot face in his hands and drew you in closer. “This is for her. She has trained since the moment she could stand. She must take this step in her life to continue to live within our tribe. Or else she’ll be forced out.” His thumbs rubbed at both the wet and dry tears stuck to your cheeks. “This is for her own good. Even our own daughter has to face the same challenges as any other Yautja.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces. Tears fell more constantly. You shook your head in his hands, trying to deny his words. “Woftik, please. Don’t do this. Don’t send her out there. She’ll die. She’s… she’s not like you. She’s human too.” As much as you hate to use your species in a demeaning way to yourself, if it helped. So be it.

A hybrid. A surprise you didn’t think was scientifically possible. Two different species, different DNA, different chromosomes. It shouldn’t be logical. But, here was your daughter, Vo-tok. She was living proof.

His mandibles drew up into his mouth. “And that will be her advantage to this. I believe in her skill and my skill. Remember, I taught her everything she knows. Do you trust me?” he asked, softening his voice and drawing your full attention to him.

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow down. Your gaze slipped down to the ground. Anywhere besides his dark brown eyes that could see into your very soul. His hands on your cheeks tilted your head up even more to find the thing you tried to hide from.

“Do you trust me?”  By his god, you did. A lot. It was your human nature to fret about your daughter though. He’s trained. Cleanly. You’ve seen him in action when he had to take down the base he had been locked up in. No human could stand in his path and live. All except yourself. That was because you had saved his life. The code all respected Yautjas follow to a T. He had been forced by said code to take you back with him, despite his want to slaughter you. Except, you had freed him from his bonds and gave him a chance to escape.

Pain was evident in your eyes. “Woftik,” you whined his name. The Yautja tightened his hold, silently demanding an answer from you. A sigh left you, eyes shutting softly with a wince. “You know I do.”

Despite your anger, your rage on the male, there wasn’t a doubt you trusted him. You had to in this line of work. Without him, being in the cold, freezing North Pole, you would’ve perished long ago.

Woftik released a deep rumble that sounded similar to a purr. His face grew close to nuzzle his temple to yours. “Then, trust my training. I’ve taught plenty before. Not all have returned from the hunt. I won’t lie to you. Her chances are greater than any other trainer,” he explained and pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open to find his nearly black eyes looking deep into yours.

“How can you expect from me to do this? I can’t. I can’t just turn a blind eye and let our daughter near such a thing. Why can’t she just hunt something normal? Like those deer-like creatures you bring home every once in a while,” you tried to reason with him one more time. Anything to get him to break. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

His eyes hardened for a moment. “And all of my children have gone through similar training either by me or their mother. They’ve endured the hunt. Not all have survived. It’s their final test to become a hunter. Vo-tok is half ooman but that may be an advantage to her.” How could he possibly think such a thing? Compared to his kind, Yautjas are weak, fragile. Plenty of other Yautjas have told you so despite who is your mate and what your position is in their clan.

From the determination in his eyes and voice, there was no way to win this verbal battle with him. As much as you hated it, his word was law. He led his clan with a mighty fist and ensured their survival through the harshest of months. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take your word or listen to you. He’s often done that. But, this was one thing he won’t budge on.

And that made you feel a hurricane of feelings for him.

You turned your head away, pulling away from his touch. “When does this ‘hunt’ begin?” you asked in a defeated tone, faced tucked to the side.

Woftik sighed and squared his shoulders. “Three days, at dusk. The beast only comes out at night.” Your heart clenched at the thought of your daughter fighting at night. This couldn’t get worse. You flinched and hugged yourself, trying to fight off the new wave of tears again.

Your shoulders were bunched. You forced yourself to take a few steps away from him. “Okay,” you softly said then turned around and walked away from him. Distance was needed. Space and time. You had to go spend time with your daughter. Before everything may change before your eyes.

Worst of all. You had three other children with him. Woftik was sentencing all of them to their deaths. And there’s nothing you could do to stop it. All he expected from you was to trust the training he puts all four of them through. But Woftik is… Woftik. He could handle himself. You’ve seen it personally, up front and personal. But this, this is completely different. Your children. This is your children you were talking about.

The eldest of your children wasn’t even home. She was out, training with another group of young bloods nearing their blooding ceremony. And none of their parents were objecting this. It was part of their culture. A hard pill to swallow for an outsider who wanted to protect your children from the monsters.

The others were in the playroom that branched off of from the common room. You walked through said space to find all of your little ones huddled together, eyes wide. Their whispering stopped immediately at your approach.

Unease had settled in their dark eyes. Your heart broke all the more at the sight. Instantly, you knelt before them, brows furrowed up. “Oh, babies,” you cooed to them in a soft, gentle tone.

None of them were babies anymore. The second oldest, Ma’ril, was thirteen in Yautja years, nearing his own blooding as well. Then, you had Tink-on. She was twelve. Lastly, was Veir. He was nine. The youngest in your family. Yet, all of them knew the basics at least of hunting. Each progressing in different weapons that suited them best. Woftik ensuring to hit every style to find what fits them. He was so careful about their training. That at first, you weren’t fretting about their upcoming hunts. Until the day comes.

It was closing in fast.

“You heard us yelling, didn’t you?” you asked, disappointed in yourself. This is one of your worst fears.

Veir nodded his head silently and looked at you from underneath his brows. You flinched as if he had struck you. It was one thing to shout at your partner but another to have your children hear it.

“Oh, babies, I’m so sorry. We were disagreeing on something. I’m… I’m just scared for your older sister. I can’t help it. It’s part of being human.” Something they were burdened with. The emotions of a human and the talents and skills of a Yautja. Two ideas that don’t mix well. “But, we came to an agreement. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

They all looked at each other before returning their eyes to you. Timidly, you opened your arms and waited with bated breath. One after another, Ma’ril, Veir, and Tink-on piled in on each other. All of them snugging you into a hug.

“You know I love you with all of my heart, right?” A question you couldn’t but ask in the aftermath. Each one nodded and voiced that they knew. “Good. Good. I’m very glad. I love you guys so much. You’re my world.”

And they were. They were your lifeline. Woftik was part of that as well. Pieces to the puzzle that made up your life. A life you didn’t want to see break up if a piece goes missing. You had to hold back the tears desperate to fall. The idea hurting more than you thought.

You felt the eyes before hearing the soft steps of Woftik. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the hulking, white giant stalk into the room quiet as ever. He moved with ease and lowered himself to his knees at your side. Your gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The pain was too fresh in your heart to forgive him just yet.

“They heard us,” you explained in soft voice that only he could hear. The off-white Yautja hummed and scooted closer, showering the four of you with his warmth. His muscular arms came around and encircled all of you. You leaned into him, taking the embrace to quell the pounding of your heart.

Nothing needed to be said about your family. Mismatched, imperfect as it was, you loved it more than anything.

[m0chis-cafe]

Hello! This is my first time making a request, if it's okay, can I get a reader with Lillia, Rook, Vil and Leona who has recently been suffering from insomnia and anxiety about returning home (comfort in the end) Please? 😔🎀

i absolutely love this, i get horrible insomia. i gotchu♡

(edit: i ended up focusing on one more than the other in some, but both are mentioned. hope u still like it *mwah*)

reader suffering from insomnia and anxiety about returning home.. ⋆⑅˚₊

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mentioning of anxiety, and panic attacks (there will be major comfort though), sitting in laps, kissing, joking to help, mentioning of what happens in each of the characters books (i hope yall have read em before but js in case)

characters: leona, rook, vil, and lilia

leona kingscholar🦁

you paced the botanical gardens on campus, hands tangling in your hair s you thoughts went a million miles a second..

how am i going to get home?

how is my family.. god i miss them..

if im forced to stay here.. how do i even pass these crazy magic classes?

do the people here ive come to know even want me here or are they forced to cause i cant leave..

every new thought was another anxiety that just caused your breath to quicken. your thoughts were flooded with negatives.. if you had magic this is what youd assume a magic blot would feel like.. so much negative emotions piling into you all at once.

you eventually sat below a tree, knees curled to your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. it didnt help that you hadent slept in days, insomnia only getting worse since coming to nightraven.

yet no matter what you did your breaths wouldnt calm, your hands kept shaking, and you couldnt hear or see straight. you almost jumped right out of your skin as you felt hands grab your own that covered your face. looking up you saw brown hair and ears.. leona?

his voice made its way to you eventually, "herbavore? herbavore.. seriously c'mon your worrying me. ruggie said you ran off but i didnt think itd be this bad." he mumbled to himself before his hands slipped dwon to your biceps, "hey, listen to me." he spoke firmly.

your eyes eventually meet him, your breaths calmling slightly at his presence. taking large breaths through your lips as you looked up at him, arms shaking in his hold. "dont fall out on me now, we need you." he spoke lowly as he scopped you up with ease, placing you betwen his legs, "your alright now herbivore, whatevers going on in that head of yours, its gonna be alright, yea?" he placed a kiss on your forhead allowng you time to breath normally.

when your breaths calmed and body began to calm, you sighed and leaned more into his body, "thank you.. leona". he chuckled deeply, sloching more down the tree, letting you fall into his chest. "its fine kid, just glad your fine. did something happen?". your eyes widened before spilling, explaining your thoughts to him slowly, anxious to be a burden. when you ended he rolled his eyes and strted laughing.. at you?..

huh?

"you seriously think anyone here doesnt want you here? i think at this point those first years would fall apart without you, and as for finding your way home, crawley better. or ill personally kick his ass, alright herbavore?" you simply nodded your head and leaned into him smiling, "your really not as bad as they say you are.."

vil schoenheit🧺

vi had become obsessed with training for the dance competittion, day after day everyone was practicing for hours every day. you tried to be nothin bt supportive but your insomnia had only gotten worse with the recent stress of the compettition..

what will happen if we dont win?

everyone else looks so tired..

god im so tired.. when was the last time i slept multiple hours?

i wish i could just go home already..

you guys had gotten the first brea of the day, you sat against the wall between kalim and ace as they yapped about how excited they were to preform next week. listening to them had you distracted, your eyes fluttering closed.

a hand was placed on your shoulder, looking up you saw jamil crouched in front of you, "are you alright? you look terrible prefect" you heard ace and kalim repremand him for being so blunt, but you just shook your head trying to wake up, "im fine jamil.. just tired, thank you though"

he looked skeptical but quickly turned to make sure kalim was drinking water and taking a proper break. ace mumbled something under his breath that you barley couldnt catch before he stood up and walked towards vil who was with rook and epel, who were talking across the room.

you saw vil look down at ace with his arms crossed, he glanced at you as ace pointed a finger to you. vil abandoned his conversation with epel and rook, shooing away the others around you, "why wouldnt you say that you havent been sleeping, thats not proper conditions for you to be proforming in prefect."

"im fine vil-", he rolled his eyes and cut you off, "you look anything but, stand" he reached a hand down to you, pulling you up from the ground. your head swam with spots when you rose too quickly, stumbling into vil.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you up, "poision.. is somethng truley wrong?" you looked up at him, eyes wide as he read you like a book. he quickly took your hand and dragged you out of the practice room and into the lounge at pomefiore.

he sat you down in one of the chairs and crouched in fron tof you, holding your face in his hands, "speak to me.." you sighed before explaining what had been happening, the stresses and not sleeping, the thoughts of never being able to go home.

he sighed and stood, sitting beside you and tugging you into his side, "i wish you would speak up when this happens, you know that id never wish to add to your burdens." he placed a kiss to your forhead before continuing, "we will find a way for you to go home, no matter how bitter sweet itll be, i do hope we find a way for you to go back and forth.. we would all miss you terribly here.. especially me." at his words you sighed and relaxed into his side, "ill find a way back, i could never just leave you guys.. especially you.

rook hunt🪶

you thought itd be easy to hide your emotions recently, but knowing rook he proably could already see through your mind..

i hope i can go home soon..

i wonder if time has passed back home and if my family is worried about me..

i need to stop stresing, i havent slept at all recently

these magic classes are getting harder with the lack of magic

you thought you kept a pretty good mask on arround others, yet as soon as you were walking from potions alone with rook he spoke up, "mon cheri.. have you been sleeping enough? your beauty is as blinding as always, alas you seem more tired than usual."

you shouldve known better than to try to keep something from him, he finds out everything sooner rathar than latter, "im alright, just worried about getting home, i guess its been affecting my sleep.."

"well theres no use in worrying cheri! i garuntee they will find a way to send you home! with that said i think a long rest for you is in place." he spoke cherfully as he laced your hands together and dragged you to pomefiore, you smiled at his actions and followed along.. he always here to look after me

lilia vanrough🦇

after dealing with blots from every other house, you thought hanging around diasmonia would be calming. yet as you sat in the lounge with silver, sebek, lilia, and malleus your thought still didnt stop running..

whos going to over-blot next?

will the next one be more powerful.. maybe too powerful..

i didnt have these struggles at home

even my sleep scheduals gotten worse.. late nights staying up with lilia and idia playing games have become much more often an occurance

im supposed to be relaxing, just breath..

your mind spaced out as you looked at the floor in front of you while stuck in thought. your hands tangled into your blazer sleeves as your breath quickened, your vision began to see spots before you felt a hand rest on top of your own in your lap.

"prefect, is something the matter?" your head snapped up and saw lilia who was sat beside you, a concerned look for once took over his boyish grin, "your not looking too good.. are you ill?" he placed a hand on you forhead attempting to asses if you were running a fever.

"im alright.. just missing home" you mumbled, offering him a small smile as you placed your head on his shoulder. he sighed, raisng your hand to press a kiss on the back of your hand, "well find a way for you to go back, i promise it my dear."

he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you to lean more into him, "in the mean time, you havent been sleeping and its clear, get some rest prefect" his boyish grin returned as he pecked your cheek. he was right.. everything was gonna be ok.

you finally felt comfortble enough to fall into a deep sleep against him, with grim curled up into your lap mumbling about his dreams of tuna. surronded by people you became found of over you stay at nightraven, it wouldnt be bad to stay here, but you knew that there would be a way home.

[fallingdownhell]

Heyaaa!

I saw your request is open soo...

Can i request gn reader with Ayato, Kazuha, Diluc, and Kaeya where the reader is pranking them by shouting their full name (since we know their full name) what is going to be their reaction?

Feel free to ignore or decline this request^^

I love this! So much! Thank you for your request<3 Characters Included: Kazuha; Diluc; Ayato; Kaeya Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; pranking the boys by calling their full names; not proofread yet Word count: 2,6k words Have fun with this one<3

Kazuha

This morning was peaceful, Kazuha thought as he layed in bed, the morning rays of the sun shining in through the open window. He let them warm his body as he slowly woke up more and more from his slumber.

When he extended a hand to feel for your sleeping body next to him, he found the space empty. Cold at that, indicating that you've been gone for a while.

A groan left him, Kazuha hated it when he woke up without you next to him. He'd much rather spend his morning cuddling you in bed than doing anything else.

But then the next moment, the smell of something cooking hit him, and he knew that you were already out and about making breakfast for the both of you.

So, with a sigh, Kazuha decided to get up and get himself ready before heading down to join you in the kitchen.

He got up from bed and stretched his body out first, then headed into the adjacent bathroom. Taking a shower first thing in the morning always felt refreshing to him and it most often than not was the last push he needed to fully wake up.

Once that was done and he headed out of the shower again, Kazuha got dressed and combed through some tight knots of his hair. He was still in the middle of doing so, when suddenly, the silence of the house was interrupted by a shout of his name.

"Kaedehara Kazuha! Get down here!", your voice shoutet and instantly, Kazuha's body froze up. There were a million thoughts in his head, and yet also, not a single one except for: he had somehow fucked up.

The tone in which you had shouted his name sounded mad and if that wasn't a clear indication about your mood, the use of his full name certainly was.

To not make your mood any worse, he hurried to put the comb away and throw the last piece of clothing on while he already hurried out of the bathroom and towards you into the kitchen. He was preparing himself internally for whatever it was that he did that pissed you off so much and already had a million apologies on his tongue.

But, to his surprise, when he got to the kitchen, he found you there, utterly calm as you put the food on two plates for each of you. You didn't even notice him coming in.

"(Name), my love..", he carefully spoke, just in case, but in reality, he was so confused.

"Oh, good. Food's ready!", you look up and smile at Kazuha, which then throws him completely out of loop. He just stands there and stares at you.

"Is something the matter, dear?", you ask him, that smile still on your lips as you sit down at the table. That's when the puzzle pieces fall for Kazuha and he visibly relaxes, letting out a drawn out breath.

"Please, don't do that again, love. I was scared for my life."

You laugh at that, apologizing for scaring him that much. He doesn't really care as long as you apologize with a cuddle session afterwards.

Diluc

Since you moved in with Diluc at Dawn Winery, the time you spend together has improved significantly compared to before, but it still wasn't nearly enough as to what both of you would want it to be.

He still had lots of work to do, managing the Winery, the Angel's Share, and all the business he likes to take over as the Dark Night Hero. Even so, the fact that the two of you are now living under the same roof has changed things for the better.

You know get to see him every morning, since Diluc has made it a point to stay in bed until both of you have to get up for work. You always eat dinner together and he makes an effort to spend every other evening with you. He really tries his best for you.

He even moved his office next to your shared bedroom, so that there aren't too many rooms between you and when you want to see the other, you only have to go into the adjacent room and not wander the entire mansion.

Tonight was a night Diluc had dedicated to his work, which he made you aware of and you were okay with, since you told him that you could use the time to continue the book you were currently reading.

Diluc was hunged over stacks of papers, trying to sort them from most to least important before he went into looking over them. He had worked through a good portion of it already, thinking that he was making great progress. When he looked at the clock on the wall, it told him that it was already almost midnight.

But not to worry. In about an hour or so, he would be done and could join you in bed. Or so he thought. But when he wanted to continue his work after a short break, he suddenly heard you yelling from next door.

"Diluc Ragnvindr!", your voice shoutet his name and he immediately picked up on the tone of your voice. You sounded upset..

Instantly, he began thinking back, trying to figure out what could have made you angry at him. You were fine when he last saw you at dinner, smiling and laughing with him. Then he went to his office afterwards. He couldn't possibly have done or said anything to upset you... right?

His body, that had faced towards the door that lead to your shared bedroom, began to act on his own and he got up and walked over there. Diluc gently knocked on the door, opening it a bit and sticking his head through the gap.

You were laying on the bed, comfortably tucked in and reading your book.

"Everything okay, my love?", Diluc softly spoke up, not sure what to do but he definitely didn't want to make you further upset.

At the sound of his voice, you perk up and face him, a smile spreading on your lips. You place the book down on the nightstand before extending an arm towards him.

"I'm cold. Come cuddle with me." you say in a small pout, which confused Diluc even more. You sounded so mad just now when you yelled his name. Not just his name, but his full name! So why.. were you acting like nothing was wrong?

Still, he complied to your request, his work and papers forgotten for now as he joined you in bed. You made yourself comfortable in his arms, your head and part of your upper body resting on his chest as he began to play with some stands of your hair. Everything was peaceful, but Diluc's mind was still running, trying to make sense of everything. In the end, he decided to just ask you about it.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No? Why would I be?", you asked him, but your voice sounded sleepy already

"Because you were yelling earlier. And you used my full name. Not just my name or a petname. So I thought..", he got interrupted by a chuckle coming from you.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was just messing with you a bit. Just wanted you here to cuddle with you."

A joke... that's what it was. He couldn't help the relief that washed over him hearing that, and the tension finally left his body. He's not mad at you, but please, don't do that again if you don't want him to have a heart attack next time..

Ayato

Being the spouse of the head of the Kamisatio Clan was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. Although Ayato was a busy man with much work, he always made sure to make time for you to spend with him, just the two of you.

Every day, he made that effort, even though this sometimes meant even more stress for him with certain work if he put if off too long. But to him, it was worth it when he did it for you. He's a loyal man in that regard.

One of the downsides to this however, is the fact that this man often times overworks himself without even realising it. Before you came around, it was Ayaka's and Thoma's job - but mostly Thoma's - to take care of Ayato and remind him to take frequent breaks in between.

Now, you like to take over that part for Thoma, taking every chance you get to see your boyfriend, even if it's only a few seconds to remind him of a break or to bring him something to drink with some snacks.

Ayato really appreaciates you doing this for him, smiling every time and stealing a quick kiss before you're gone again. He thanks Celestia each and every day for you being so understanding with his work.

But that doesn't mean that there aren't still days where breaks just aren't possible and he has to power through or else it would never get done.

Today was such a day. Ayato leaned back and let out a heavy sigh as he finally finished with work for today. He has been sitting in this room - his office - the entire day, cramped up and not able to take even a single break. Come to think of it, he was so focused on his work that he didn't even know if you've come in here at all today to check on him. He's sure you did, as you did it every day, but he didn't even notice..

Not to worry. He would simply rest here for a few minutes, trying to come down before he would set out to search for you. Being in your presence was exactly what he needed to recharge some of his engery again.

Closing his eyes and listening to the silence around him, Ayato took a deep breath, calming down more and more the longer he continued to do so. Just a bit longer and he'll-!

"Kamisato Ayato!", a voice suddenly called out his name. And not just any voice, but yours.

His eyes immediately snapped open at the use of his full government name. No cute nickname, nor petname, not anything.

At first, he was too stunned to react, trying to figure out if what he heard was actually real or just something his brain made up. For a few seconds, he sat there and listened to the silence that followed. Just as he was about to relax again, he heard your voice calling him again.

"Kamisato Ayato! Get over here, now!", you shouted for him again, this time your voice sounded a bit more aggressive than before. Now he was certain that this was not his brain playing tricks on him...

Not knowing what had happened but also not wanting to upset you even more, Ayato quickly got up and exited the room. He didn't know where you were, but you sounded rather close, so there weren't too many options available. After looking through some rooms, he found you in the dining room, placing down plates full of steaming food on the table.

"Darling? Are you okay?", Ayato asked as he entered the room, wandering over to you and catching you in his arms, holding your face in his hands.

You smile up at him, circling your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Everythings fine. But you've been in there the whole day and dinner is ready so I figured I had to get you out of there somehow."

It then clicks in his head, that you weren't actually mad at him and it was just a trick to lure him out.

"Oh, you little devil~", Ayato smiles down at you, gently poking your nose which made you giggle.

"Hey, it was effective, wasn't it?", you defended yourself and he had to agree with you there. After all, no matter what, you'd always be his top priority..

Kaeya

You and Kaeya had a great relationship going. Both of you had busy jobs but you still tried to spend as much time together as possible. As a rule of thumb, you've come to an arrangement that every other day, one of you would spend the night over at the others place, since you're not living together at this point.

It's worked out great for you two and sometimes, even though you're together, you can still do your own things, and just enjoy each others presence.

Like today, for example.

You two were at your place, both on the couch. Kaeya was sitting comfortable at one end of the sofa, studying over some plans and things he had to look over for Jean for the knights, while you were laying down, head placed on Kaeya's lap while reading a book.

There was a comfortable silence as each of you was doing his own thing, though every now and then, Kaeya would reach down to brush through your hair. You knew he liked to do that as it calmed him down. And you enjoyed it, so no reason for you to complain about it.

However, it was getting late already, the fire also slowly dying down, so you decided to end your book for today. You told Kaeya that you'd go to the bathroom first, so he had a bit more time to study through the plans. He smiled at you and nodded while you headed towards the bathroom.

Kaeya sits there for quite some time, but he's not really focusing on the reports all that much anymore. He's getting tired and listening to the water running from the bathroom, he can't wait to get into bed with you.

So, deciding to leave it be for today, he places the papers down on the table and lets his head fall back to relax a bit until you were done in the bathroom. He wouldn't have minded to join you in there, either...

As he sat there, relaxing and thinking, he closed his eyes for a bit. But the longer he had them closed, his eyes grew heavier and heavier..

He was about to fall asleep, when suddenly..

"Kaeya Alberich!", you voice sounded from the bathroom and Kaeya's eyes snapped open at the use of his full name.

You'd never done that before, not even when you were mad at him beyond anything. What could he have done that could possibly bring out such a reaction in you?

Quickly, he got up and headed to the bathroom where he heard you from, but things weren't adding up for him. Everything was fine until a few minutes ago. You'd never done this, so why now, so suddenly?

There hasn't been any arguments the past weeks, everything was going smoothly. Unless he said or did something genuinely horrible..

But he was pretty sure that he didn't..

But if not, then there was only one other possiblity...

Rounding the corner, Kaeya knew immediately what was up when he saw you standing there, smiling brightly at him, looking like you were quite proud with yourself.

"Yes, my dear?", he asked, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Would you be so kind and help me with my hair?", you ask, your voice ever so sweet again, like you didn't do anything at all.

"Of course.", he leads you to the bed and makes you sit and face away from him before he goes to work on your hair, gently tangling out all the knots that had formed in them.

He won't say anything about it or hold it against you, but if you keep doing this over and over again, he might have to come up with something to teach you a lesson not to scare him like that again..

[cryptidghostgirl]

CHUBBY! READER X ALASTOR

I'm soooo sorry that I'm requesting something else this just came to me and I needed your storytelling expertise to bring it to life 😢

ALSO ALSO ALSO this one has a trigger warning so please read with the thought that YOURE PERFECT!!!😤(if you write it)

OTAY OTAY soooooooooooo reader has been apart of the hotel for awhile and has developed a crush on Alastor from afar and the small instances they do cross paths but hesitates to approach him on her own because well we're shy and HES THE RADIO DEMON anyway reader doesn't have to worry about distance between them because Alastor is AVOIDING HER ALL ON HIS OWN 😯 AND somehow reader gathers the courage to approach Alastor but sees his relationship with Rosie (they're besties, platonic soulmates definitely) and thinks 'wow, she's so beautiful and...thin' and proceeds to lock herself away from everyone (SOLITUDE) and skips meals (starving herself), Alastor is the first to notice shes missin and pulling away but doesn't know how to approach her without stumbling over his words (i like to think that hes a heartbreaker to other women like his fans but with someone that he likes with real feelings hes fumbling in the dark because he could get rejected instead, i will die on the hill) so so so he hesitates to ask reader whats wrong till he hears her throwing up or she says something awful about herself and Alastor gets angry on her behalf and reader goes silent, only for Alastor to take a breath and tell her that 'shes hurting herself, for a shallow reason such as looks', and reader goes 'i thought you liked to watch others downfalls' and then hes like 'not your downfall, never you' 😔 reader starts to cry and shouts "im not Rosie', confused Alastor finally starts putting the pieces together and grabs reader hands and sincerely says "good, i wouldn't rosie anyhow, or anyone else for that matter', reader continuing to cry tells him to stop lying that this joke isn't funny and Alastor kissies her hand as says "whos joking? I only want you, your perfect" then then then slowly Alastor starts to help reader look at themselves in a more positive light [[fit this in somewhere???????Alastor tells reader why hes so close to rosie (he's clueless about reciprocated love so he goes to Rosie because canon that she knows matters of the heart...right?)]]

A/N as always i am obsessed with your request. Also I 100% agree with the assessment of Alastor's ability to talk to people he actually likes. I am literally so obsessed with this request. Also I am assuming from your previous comments you wanted the same bunny demon character?? Please forgive me if I am wrong but I did it for her (because I love her dearly and she is based of meeeee and I'm egotisticalllllll). Kisses bestie <3 <3

Downfall (Alastor x Chubby!Bunny Demon!Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Word Count: 4,076 (I got a little carried away)

Warnings: BODY IMAGE ISSUES!!! EDS!!!! I think that's it but they're in all caps for a reason so if you have ED issues maybe don't read this one??? It is hurt//comfort tho so maybe do???? Idk. If you get triggered by ed descriptions, don't. If having a fictional character tell you you're perfect the way you are and beg you to stop destroying yourself because they can't bear to watch would help you, do.

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

It had taken months. Months of wondering what he was like, of stolen glances, of furtive daydreams. Months of building up courage, of backing down, months of hoping and dreaming. It had taken endless encouragement from Angel, countless pages in her diary. It had taken a million deep breaths, ten thousand trembles of her hands. Months, it had taken months.

It wasn't like Y/n had never spoken to the man before. That wasn't really the issue. She wasn't scared of him, just scared. The simple idea of being alone with him was an intoxicating mixture of terror and utter bliss. Y/n didn't know how to handle it, she didn't know how to handle him.

Alastor was untouchable, nearly semi-divine in her eyes. Sure, he was fucked up, but they all were. At the end of the day, his facade was as easy to see through as a cheap paper crown from a Christmas cracker. Beneath the wide smile, the sharp teeth, the stories, Alastor was just a man. He cared deeply for the world around him, for the people around him and those in his life. No matter how hard he tried to disguise it, it always shone through to Y/n.

It wasn't like she had never spoken to Alastor before, she had just never spoken to him alone before. Every interaction they had ever had was as a part of the larger group of Hotel residents and staff. On the rare occasion they ran into one another in the hallway or happened to each be in the kitchen at the same time, Y/n froze up. Words turned to stones in her stomach and all she could ever seem to manage was a gentle nod, a shaky smile. It frustrated her to no end.

Finally, she had worked up the courage to talk to him. It was all Angel's idea really, she would never have had the thought to do such a thing on her own but his pushing had been relentless and at last, Y/n had agreed.

And it had taken months, months! This was her third attempt to go up to him. They had even lowered the stakes, Angel saying all she had to do was have a single normal conversation with the man and he would let her off the hook, stop his pestering and teasing. It was just her luck, really just her god damn luck.

Sir Pentious had informed Y/n that Alastor had left the hotel to see a friend, Charlie had given her the address of the cafe he had said he would be at should they need him. Everyone was all smiles, all encouragement. Y/n reminded herself to yell at Angel later for spilling her secret although, she guessed she shouldn't have expected anything else from the hotel's biggest gossip.

Putting on her favorite outfit, her hair all done up and makeup perfect, Y/n had slicked her ears flat against her head in determination and stepped out onto the streets of Pentagram City. It didn't take long for her to find the place, a sweet little cafe on the outskirts of Cannibal Town with white wrought iron chairs and a cheerful pink and purple sign. It hadn't taken her long to spot the bright red of Alastor's suit through the window either, standing out against all the muted purples and dark blacks of the other cannibals enjoying their meals within.

"It's fine. It's totally not weird that you're going up to him in a cafe he's having lunch in with a friend, that you.... oh my god Y/n!! He's gonna think you were stalking him! You should just go back and- no! You promised. Y/n, you can do this."

She took a deep breath, centering herself in that little core, that rod of who she was, that shot down the center of her being. Raising a closed fist to her chest, she shut her eyes.

"You can do this, Bunny." she reaffirmed, "You can do this."

Opening her eyes, she crossed the street. Her hand was inches away from the door's handle, her heart racing but set on what she was about to do, when Y/n noticed exactly who Alastor's 'friend' was.

Across the table from him, sipping delicately on a cup of tea, was the most beautiful demon Y/n thought she had ever laid eyes on. She had long, dainty fingers, thin and spidery, and the most perfectly proportioned body. She was tall, long legs sheltered by her skirt and a tiny waist that threw her hips and chest into contrast. The woman's hair was neat, tucked up beneath a wide brimmed hat. Her clothes were classy, her smile was bright and charming, the black holes of her eyes were... were... were everything. She was everything, everything Y/n wasn't.

Suddenly, the weight of her own body against her bones became all too real. She felt the urge to never be touched again, the same strange sickness of her youth sinking its teeth into the softness of her stomach, her thighs, her arms, all of her. Her hand lowered from the handle, Alastor laughing at something the woman had said to him. He seemed relaxed, more at peace than Y/n had ever seen the man before. If that wasn't love, she didn't know what was.

It took a second for the other residents of the Hazbin Hotel to realize the change. Y/n was good at this, she'd had practice. For years, she had worked to move past it all but the threat of a relapse had always hung over her head. It was her sword of Damocles, her fated demise.

Y/n retreated in to herself, she couldn't get the image of that woman out of her head. Poised, statuesque, thin. God, Y/n had never wanted anything more than she wanted to be thin. She wanted to rip fistfuls of flesh from her body, she wanted to wither away so only something beautiful remained.

Alastor was the first to notice. He had a soft spot for the rabbit demon who always seemed to be full of that soft, discrete joy and unending kindness. She was a more toned down version of Charlie. She was genuine and completely herself, no holds bared. She had such a hope, she had such a goodness, it made him wonder why she hadn't ended up in Heaven instead.

The truth was, behind the bravado and the grin, Alastor was scared of Y/n. He was scared he would touch her and she would rot away or worse, that she would run. She was just so good, so intrinsically wondrous, and he was the opposite. She was a fresh rose and he was the person coming haplessly along with a pair of gardening shears. She was radiant, she was carved fresh from marble, he was down bad.

Women had never been a priority or a problem for Alastor. Living and dead, they flocked to him. He knew his reputation was to blame, not to mention his looks. They could be fun for a while. Alastor saw charming them as a game, a good way to pass the time. This was different, Y/n was different. Alastor didn't know what to do so, he did nothing. He avoided her like the plague and when he couldn't, he practically ignored her, barley spared her a word.

Alastor was untethered, completely in the dark and so, he did what everyone does when they feel like that: he went to talk to his best friend. When he had gotten back to the hotel after his rather illuminating little chat with Rosie, Charlie had asked him if he had seen Y/n. It felt like divine chance, a cruel joke of fate, that the demon Princess would bring up the very source of his problems so soon after having at last pushed past his pride to ask for help.

When he had revealed the truth to the gang, that no, he had not in fact seen Y/n, they seemed deflated. There had been some sighs, some shrugs, shared glances he didn't understand and then everything had gone back to normal except, it wasn't quite normal.

Where Y/n could normally be found causing trouble, making mischief with the people who had so quickly become her friends since she had started her stay at the hotel out in the open, there was now a distinct lack of her jovial presence. She began taking her plates to her room at meals, showing up to group activities less and less, claiming she was tired or had a stomach ache. Alastor noticed every time he did manage to catch a glimpse of the marvelous and strange creature who had captured his affections so, she seemed utterly exhausted. Y/n was always bundled up, even on the warmest of days.

He wanted to go talk to her, wanted to ask her if she was okay. Alastor was worried -- genuinely worried -- about her. The only thing that stopped him from knocking every time he passed her perpetually closed door, was that he knew himself too well. He knew that the minute he entered, he'd lose his courage, that the words would become mush in his mouth.

It was pure chance, right place wrong time, that he heard it. Alastor had been following his normal routine, heading up to his radio tower for a broadcast after a group activity. Today had been Operation Navigation! As Charlie had dubbed it. She and Vaggie had built an obstacle course and everyone had a partner who was blindfolded and had to be guided through. When they got to the other end, the pairs had switched. Miraculously, Y/n had shown up to this event.

Alastor had watched her carefully, noting her sluggish movements and the way it took her a second to fully register what anyone was saying in a given moment. It was out of the ordinary and his worry only grew. He knew he was going to have to do something about it eventually but just didn't know how. Maybe it would require another visit to Rosie.

As he walked past the lobby bathroom, Alastor was pulled from his thoughts. The door was slightly ajar, sending shards of light out into the darkened hallway.

"Why isn't it working!"

Came the hushed yell of defeat. It was Y/n's voice, he'd know it anywhere. Alastor stopped walking.

"Why do I have to be..."

There was a sniff, the sound of something hitting the wall. Alastor realized it had been Y/n at the sound of fabric against the wallpaper. He could see her in his minds eye as she slid down the wall, pulling her knees into her chest.

"Why can't I just be skinny."

Y/n's words were muffled, soft and shaky.

"Why can't I just be pretty. Why do I have to be... to be..." her words were briefly broken by a sob, "why can't I just be good. I can't even fucking starve myself right. I wish..."

Alastor's body reacted before his mind could catch up, he knocked gently on the door. There was a little yelp of surprise from within, a few sniffs and some rustling fabric.

"Yeah?"

Y/n's voice trembled as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

"May I come in?"

Alastor heard the sharp intake of breath. It was too late to back down now. The silence was thick between them, it felt eternal.

"Okay." Y/n agreed at last, her voice small, and Alastor stepped into the room.

It was exactly how he had imagined it. Y/n was huddled on the floor next to the door, her knees tucked up under her chin and her arms holding her shins tightly. Alastor noticed that the thick, woolen sweater she had been wearing earlier had been tossed to the side, laying haphazardly beside the sink. Y/n sniffed again, trying to smile.

"Everything okay?" she asked and Alastor fixed his eyes back on her.

Y/n's eyes were rimmed with red. Her ears lay limply around her face which was stained with tears. Her skin was covered in goosebumps, she shivered.

"No. It's not."

She seemed a bit taken aback by his answer, not having grasped the reality of the cracked door earlier.

"I don't... what's wrong?"

"You are starving yourself." Alastor replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

Y/n's eyes went wide.

"Fuck... I... fuck!" she buried her face in her knees, "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Are you trying to die!?" Alastor asked,

He didn't mean to yell, he didn't mean to be this angry. Everything he said seemed to send shockwaves of regret through his body. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Are you... I just... are you stupid?!"

Y/n looked up at him again, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

"I-"

"You what." Alastor scoffed, "You want to be pretty?"

"I..."

"You want to be pretty so you lock yourself away? You make your friends watch as you... as you what, as you get thin? As you destroy yourself?"

She was crying now, truly crying. Alastor looked away, a hand to his head. He took a deep breath, everything was going wrong. When he looked at her again, her cheeks were flushed from a mixture of shame and hurt.

"I just..." he took another deep breath, sinking to his knees before her, "Why would you hurt yourself so badly for something as.. as shallow as your looks?"

Y/n sniffled, frantically trying to wipe away her tears.

"What, I thought you liked to watch other people's downfalls." she tried to shoot back at him but her words came out stuttering and broken through the thickly falling tears.

Y/n refused to meet Alastor's gaze. Everything was going wrong. She was horribly embarrassed, she felt like a butterfly and Alastor was the terror who had opened her chrysalis too soon. He wasn't supposed to see her like this, he wasn't supposed to see her now. He was only supposed to get the after. It was all for him, after all, wasn't it?

Except, Y/n knew the truth of the matter. Alastor had been the trigger but, these behaviors were too well engrained. She might not have known it then, but she'd been looking for an excuse all along. It was all for her, every inch of agony.

His heart dropped at her words. Was that what Y/n truly thought of him? It would make sense, it was the face he presented to the world after all. He had just thought... he had hoped... Rosie had said....

Rosie. That was the answer. She had told him to be honest, to be vulnerable no matter how terrifying such a prospect could be. She had said it was the only way they ever had the slightest chance.

Alastor reached a hand out gently, turning Y/n to look at him. Her skin was soft to the touch, the beating of her blood thrumming against his fingertips. With the utmost care he could muster in his clawed and rotten hands, Alastor wiped her tears away. He couldn't meet Y/n's eyes but heard her sniffle, watched as the flow of sorrow slowed.

"Not your downfall." he said, his words like quiet feathers falling through the air, "Never your downfall."

At last he met her trembling gaze, fear coursing hotly through him, mingling with his blood. She took a few short, stuttering breaths before bursting into tears once again. Alastor flinched slightly as her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

"But I'm not that woman!"

"Woman... what woman?"

"The one you were with at the cafe!"

"The one... Rosie?"

Y/n nodded, sniffiling slightly as she tried to calm herself down.

"You saw me with Rosie? How?"

"I went... I'd been working up all this courage and... I just wanted to talk to you and Charlie and Pen said you'd be there and... and... and I'm not Rosie!"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had been right all along, Rosie was the answer. With the air of someone who hadn't had much physical affection given to them in their life, or received any for that matter, Alastor slowly wrapped his hands around Y/n's shaking back.

"Good."

"What do you mean 'good'? She's so beautiful and she made you laugh and she's just... she's so beautiful and thin!"

"She is beautiful, and a lovely woman but, I don't want Rosie. Or anyone else for that matter."

Y/n's sobs redoubled, she began to struggle against his grip.

"Let me go! Stop lying, Alastor."

Alastor released Y/n from his grasp and she pushed herself back against the wall, utterly mortified and unable to stop. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking away.

"Stop joking, it's... it's not funny."

"Who is joking? I..." Alastor took a deep breath.

Rosie had been right, it was terrifying. He hope she was right on the second part too, that it would be worth it.

"Y/n, have you seen yourself?"

"Yes! Why the fuck do you think I want to be anything else?!"

Alastor got to his feet, holding a hand out to Y/n.

"Come with me."

"No." she mumbled, scooting further away from him if it was possible.

Under another circumstance, he would have chuckled lightly, he would have found her reaction adorable. This was neither the time nor the place and so, summoning his shadows, he transported them both into the darkness of his room.

Y/n looked around, pulling herself to her feet.

"Where... where are we?"

"My room." Alastor sat down on the edge of his bed, "Come here."

Hesitantly, Y/n took a few steps forwards. Once she was in reach, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap. The feeling sent sparks through his body, Alastor tried his best to ignore it. There were more important things than the pleasure of the moment. Y/n struggled against his grasp, the tips of her ears dragging slightly across his arms.

"Alastor! Let me go! I'm too heavy!"

"No, you're quite perfect actually."

"I don't want to be touched! I don't want you to... you're making me want to tear my skin off, please."

"No." his voice was firm.

"Please, just please let go of my waist at least."

To this, he relented, one of his arms falling loosely onto her lap as he held the other up, snapping his fingers. Shadow's flooded into the room, bringing with them a full length mirror. He felt Y/n tense in his grasp.

They came to a stop, setting the mirror on the ground before them. Y/n turned her head away, her eyes shut tight.

"Please stop, Alastor. This really isn't funny."

"Y/n."

"No."

"Y/n."

"No!"

Y/n, please."

She had never heard him say the word before. Slowly, she opened her eyes, craning her neck to look up at Alastor.

"I want you to see what I see when I look at you."

"You promise you wont be mean?" Y/n asked suspiciously after a moment.

"I pinky promise."

He had seen her do this before, with other residents of the hotel. A simple locking of pinky's was all it ever took to make a promise, to assuage her doubts, to show she cared. Y/n's eyes widened slightly. Slowly, she reached her hand out, locking her pinky with his. They shook their hands once, the way Alastor had seen her do it a thousand times before.

"Wait." Y/n said as he made to move his hand away, looking away bashfully, her cheeks a bright pink and her voice quiet, "Don't let go."

"Okay."

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the mirror. It was terrible, she felt bile rise in her throat.

"Y/n, you are so... every inch of you is perfect." Alastor took a deep breath, the way his voice trembled not escaping Y/n's notice, "You have... amazing legs. I know everyone's all obsessed with Angel's but, he has nothing on you walking around on those sticks. You're... you're all soft curves and lace. If you were made of anything, you would be satin. You are a nymph rising from the lakes, a wild maenad in the woods. Your eyes shine like true stars, not what we have here. Did you know rabbits were always my favorite animal?"

Y/n giggled slightly, her tearstained cheeks flushed pink.

"Well they were. They still are. Your ears are just to die for, dearest."

He felt her ears twitch slightly against his back at the comment and Y/n watched through the mirror as his smile softened at it's harsh edges.

"Your grace is what the Greeks wrote about. You... Y/n, the first time I set eyes on you, I felt like I was drowning." Alastor looked away, unable to meet her eyes even through the glass, "Like you were a siren and I was nothing more than a hapless sailor at your mercy."

"But you never talk to me."

"You never talk to me!"

Y/n laughed again, smiling a gummy smile.

"I don't have to talk to you to see who you are, Y/n." Alastor continued, his hand that was in her lap turning so his palm rested gently on her thigh, "You light up any room you're in. You are charming and clever and constantly on the look out for places you can instill your special breed of controlled chaos."

Trembling, he shifted his hand in Y/n's so he held hers, raising it to his mouth. The heat of his breath on her skin drove Y/n wild, her breath hitched.

"I am glad you're not Rosie, I don't want Rosie. I don't want anyone else except for you."

Alastor planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand and Y/n's smile only grew, her tears long forgotten now as she watched Alastor's reflection.

"You are perfect. Please, don't change yourself, don't hurt yourself, trying to be something else. I'd miss you."

Slowly, he let their still clasped hands fall into Y/n's lap.

"Do you see now?"

Y/n turned back to the mirror, her head tilted slightly to one side as she hummed in consideration.

"No." she admitted, "But I think I might be able to start."

"One step at a time." Alastor rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in comforting circles, "I'll be with you the whole way, if you'll have me."

He held his breath, waiting for her reply. Y/n met his eyes through the mirror, her brow furrowed.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Who is Rosie?"

Alastor could have laughed, he nearly did.

"She is a very old and dear friend. I was going to her for advice, that day."

"You? Needing advice?" Y/n paused before shaking her head, "Nah, I don't see it."

She laughed lightly at her own joke and Alastor smiled softly back at her.

"It was advice about you, actually."

Y/n turned herself in his lap, looking up at him with her legs on either side of his own.

"About me?"

"Y-yes."

He cursed himself internally. Alastor hadn't meant to stutter, she just looked too lovely sitting there and looking up at him with her pretty pink lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"I..." Alastor felt the heat rising in his own cheeks and looked away, "well, I didn't know how to approach you."

"Wait, you were avoiding me this whole time?" Y/n laughed and Alastor nodded, "I thought I was avoiding you!"

"Wait, you were avoiding me?"

His gaze snapped back to hers and she laughed again.

"Yes! I was terrified to speak to you! You're so cool and hot and just... I'm not good at things like this!"

"You think I'm hot?"

"Is that all you got out of what I said?"

"Maybe."

They both laughed this time. Alastor's chest felt lighter than it hand in years.

"So," he began once they had both calmed down, "is that a yes?"

"To what?"

"To letting me... be... with you."

Y/n smiled, reaching a hand up to his cheek.

"That's a 'will you be with me?' I think actually."

----

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170

A/N Y'all, there were one or two times I almost wrote my name while doing this one. I've been writing x reader fics for eight years, this never happens to me anymore. I think I related a little too hard. I am x reader fic writing too close to the sun.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Sweet Delights

Peeta Mellark x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a slow work day in District 12. With rain pouring down outside, who can blame you for wanting to indulge a little? Everything's fine so long as no one walks in... right?

Tags: Pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, pet names, reader has AFAB body/female pronouns, switch!Peeta, switch!Reader, edging, female fingering, teasing, count down, orgasm denial, blow job, face fucking, public sex, someone walks in, dirty talk, Peeta's a freak but he's sweet about it, praise kink if you squint, mentions of eating out, cum swallowing, cursing, post-Mockingjay but that's not really relevant, no reader orgasm this time around. Once again, I'm probably forgetting something.

Notes: I have to say, I did not expect Peeta to win the poll! And not to worry for everyone else, I'll get to all those characters eventually. (Derek girlies, I see you and I love you.) Thank you for your support on the last one, I hope you like this one too! Bon ABBA teeth.

•°《▪︎♡▪︎》°•

Peeta loves surprises.

Giving them, receiving them. If it's unexpected, Peeta is practically bouncing off his chair to figure out what to do with it.

It made everyday life sweeter. Slipping a note into his apron pocket when he wasn't looking for him to discover, finding a million more hidden in my apron. Little drawings hidden amongst everyday things, like the wildflowes Peeta likes to draw and place next to my powders and perfumes. But best of all surprises were the little pastries we would make when the days were slow and the other was watching the front of the bakery. Usually using scraps, because Peeta detests wasting food, but always delicious nonetheless.

The best innocent surprise, I should say.

Today was an especially slow day. Rain pounding down in District 12, making the roads thick with mud. It's a blessing for the hot ovens that fight against the cold seeping through the front windows. Although they're helping me more than Peeta, who's up front perched at the counter, insistent as always that someone needs to be watching the shop. "We won't hear the bell over the rain," he'd said.

I knew better than that. There were tells when Peeta wanted a surprise. He'd never just ask for something, always fearing rejection. Of course the minute I opened my mouth he was ready to do whatever I had even intrusively dreamed of so long as it meant love and praise. But to ask for himself? It's a whole different matter. So when he is insistent I work alone in the back, I understand that this is his own silent way of asking for some sort of surprise. And with the way his broad shoulders look in that pale yellow knit sweater, who am I to deny him?

I'm not one to deny him anything, quite frankly.

The best surprises of all are when we sneak up behind the other, always starting so innocently. Maybe while one of us is baking, maybe while one of us is simply dressing. With the quick slip of a hand, it doesn't take long before the other is panting and begging for release. Not that we always give it to each other.

Peeta liked sneaking up on me in private. Usually when I was in the back baking.

"What are you working on?" He'd usually ask.

"Custom order," I may answer with a smile. He liked my smiles, always said so.

"What are the details?" He'd ask. He'd put his hands on my lower back, rubbing soft enough to not disturb me while still working out some knots.

Then I'd prattle off details. This one is for so-and-so down on whatever-street-or-corner, they'd like a cake.

"For the Harvest Festival?" He'd ask. I'd nod, still focused on my task. "How many orders do we have for the Festival?"

"A good bit, it's our busiest time," I'd always say with a bright, soft tone to my voice. He'd chuckle, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck and pressing his hips against mine from behind, usually revealing his hard on.

"So, how many orders this year?" He'd ask. His hands would work at a knot, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips would roll ever so slowly against mine, taking his time to build both of us up.

"Ah, I think- I think 12?" I'd say, trying to focus on both him and whatever I was making. Cake. Right. Stir.

"12?" He'd ask. His cock would be deliciously hard, grinding against my clothed cunt just a bit harder as his hands would return to my hips, steadying me against him. "That's pretty good."

"Double digits," I'd say brightly, my voice breathy as I struggle more to focus. Cake. Stir. Hands, not hips.

But I'd always do hips instead, leaning back and tilting my head ever so slightly so he can see my enjoyment.

"You need to stir," Peeta would gently guide in my ear. My back would press against his front, his chin now resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I'd say softly. I didn't know shit.

He'd chuckle, one hand slipping to my front to cup one of my breasts.

"Need to get those orders out," he'd remind me. "You always seem so stressed about being on time."

"One of us has to be," I'd say. His hand on my hip would find the band of my pants, slipping past them and teasing me, sliding his fingers against my wet folds.

"Pick up the whisk," he'd instruct. My hands would shake as they obeyed, moving from being splayed across the marble counter to resume my task.

"Stir slowly," he'd say. His large fingers would slip over my entrance, coating himself in the thick lube now dripping from me. "You want to make sure the texture's correct."

It took such mental energy to balance the two things. Especially when he would finally sink in his middle finger, always going knuckle deep and twirling it around inside of me, making sure to leave no spot untouched. His other hand would pinch and pull at my breast, giving special care to make his fingers replicate the feeling of his soft lips wrapped around my sensitive nipples.

"What's the next order?" He'd ask. I could feel myself dripping down his hand, and I knew he loved this. Peeta would do whatever he could to make sure I was wet, even when he wouldn't go any further than simple teasing. I think he liked the idea of me always being ready. Not that he would assume. He always started out slow, and if I ever said no it was never a big deal. He'd simply continue talking to me and go on with his day perfectly fine. But if I was willing, he'd always massage or do whatever until he could feel my arousal himself. I think it's why he likes eating out best. Especially when I'd talk him through it, usually promising to cum down his throat while tugging his soft blond hair. His eyes would grow wide and soft at that, his whimpers increasing as he'd fuck me quicker with his tongue, grinding himself against whatever. It was a beautiful mess he'd turn himself into, desperate and begging silently as he clutched my hips.

"The what?" I'd ask breathlessly. I was tight around him, focused on how slow and sweet he was pumping in and out, twirling and wiggling his finger inside of me. His other hand slipping under my shirt, and his lips sucking gently at my neck, careful not to leave bruises.

"The orders, sweetheart," he'd gently remind me. "What's the next one?"

My lips would part, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to remember. His middle finger would pump out and then pump back in with the addition of his pointer finger, tearing a soft moan from my throat.

"Shh," he'd gently whisper. "We're at work."

He liked this little game. Ramping me up, forcing me to behave a certain way so to not tip off customers. If Peeta wouldn't immediately be arrested for it, something tells me he'd simply fuck me in the front room, bent over the register counter during business hours and just act like it's a normal thing. Such a sweet boy.

"I- ah- need to look at the book," I'd say. He'd roll my nipple between his two fingers, his other two fingers pumping slightly faster as his lips suck at the spot just under my ear.

"You have such a good memory though," he'd say. "You can remember. Just think."

That's a lie. I have a horrible memory and we both know it. But if I say I can't, he'll pull away. Sweet and gentle, he'll go get the book and place a million kisses on my cheek before leaving me to my work and dizziness.

Next order. Next order. That's easy. It's a tart with cream on top. Cream. God, I'd like his cock in my mouth right now.

"Next order. Come on, pretty girl. I know you know it," he'd softly encourage.

"I know it," I'd moan, my head tilted back and resting on his shoulder, fucking his fingers instead of working on the cake. He feels so good, so warm and protecting. Simply smelling the traces of dill and cinnamon baked into his skin made my mind shut off, my eyes growing tired from the feeling of safety.

"I know you know it," he'd say so sweetly. "You're smart, pretty. And you've got a delicious cunt I'd love to fuck over and over if I could," he'd say softly, placing warm kisses on my neck between each point. I was panting openly now, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried desperately to remember who ordered what.

His fingers curled inside of me, making rapid 'come hither' motions fast enough to steal a soft, sudden cry fron my lips. Peetas mouth found mine, swallowing my moans and giving me some of his own.

"I may have to count down, sweet girl," he'd warn me. His fingers had found my g spot, hitting and rubbing it at rapid speed. The cuff of his sweater is soaked from me, his hand sticky and coated. I shake my head quickly, moaning and gripping the counter as best I could to keep myself standing.

"I can remember," I whimpered. Peeta laughed softly.

"I know you can, sweet girl. But look at you, you're a total mess." His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes taking in my current state. "I can't have you all dumb back here during work hours."

He's sweet but he's cruel. God, he's cruel!

"I think there's berries in it," I stammered.

"Ten," he's start patiently, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"N-no, wait! There's- There's berries and there's..." I'm completely making this up. I have no clue what's next.

"Nine," he continued, knowing this.

"That's not fair, you started low on purpose!" I whined.

"Eight." He wouldn't argue. I was right.

"It's got- got cottage cheese frosting." I'm so close, so awfully close. I can feel myself clenching around him rapidly, my pussy swallowing his fingers quicker and quicker as I climbed closer towards the edge.

"Seven." Oh, God. This motherfucker.

"Six. Come on, good girl. You can do this," he'd encourage sweetly, kissing my cheek and trailing to my collarbone with said kisses.

"They wanted flowers on the top. Violets, I remember that!" That detail is actually true, surprisingly. The candy violets were always easy to remember because I loved them so much.

"Five." His other hand kneeded my breast, admiring the soft flesh and running his thumb over my stiff, aching nipple repeatedly. "Four."

"You're speeding up," I whined. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft 'aw,' apologizing and speeding his hands to bring me closer to the edge.

"If you can come before one, I'll fuck you right here," he promised. "You can come before one, can't you?"

I nodded stupidly, moaning and panting as I sped up my hips, slamming down on his hand repeatedly. Cake details be damned, this is my mission now.

"Three." I'm so impossibly close.

"Two."

"Wait a minute, slow down-"

"One."

With one final, cruel, hard thrust of his hand he slips away, leaving me to almost crumple to the ground and opening my eyes to blink stupidly, trying to process what just happened.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dry hand cupping my cheek and looking at me carefully with his sweet, hazel eyes.

A long, soft whine escaped me, batting my lashes as I lean against him and whisper as many 'please's as I can, pressing a dozen kisses all over him. He laughed softly, returning the kisses with whispered 'I love you's.

"Let me go get that book," he'd said. And that was that until that evening when he made up for it like he always did.

Now I was carefully removing a tiny apple pie made from leftovers meant specifically for Peeta. The rain was as bad as ever as I entered the front room, Peeta leaning on the palm of his hand while he struggled not to doze off. His long lashes flutter softly, his lips pressing against each other and his jaw a bit tight.

"Hi sleepyhead," I whisper, sneaking up behind him. He started a little, turning to look at me with the sweetest smile he has.

"Hi," he says cheerily, his voice just a touch gravely. His eyes glance down to the small treat in my hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is," I say, placing it in front of him. "Figured you could use something to warm you up. It's freezing up here."

He chuckles. "It's not that cold," he says as he picks up the fork I'd placed next to the tiny pie and began scooping some up.

"Liar," I teased. "You're shivering."

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Not from that," he says, a small blush growing on his cheeks. He takes the first bite, then another, smiling and leaning his head against my shoulder.

"Thank you, dear," he says softly. He leans in for a kiss to which I happily oblige, cupping his jaw with my left hand. His lips taste sweet, the sticky apple and cinnamon tasting delicious on him. I swipe my tongue across his lips, stealing a soft moan from him as he allows my tongue access to his mouth, melting in my hands. His hand dropped the fork, accidently missing the pan and instead hitting the counter, but neither of us care. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to silently ask me for more.

My other hand trails down to his lap, finding one of his hands already there, palming his stiff, clothed cock through his pants.

"Is this what you were doing when I came up?" I ask softly, pulling away from the kiss only a bit. He chases me, biting at my bottom lip to drag me back to him. That's a yes, then.

My tongue explores his warm mouth, tasting him while my hand traces the outline of his dick, pressing and flicking against the tip. He whines, bucking softly into my hand, desperate for more.

"Can you stay quiet?" I ask him, pulling away again. This time my hand on the back of his neck grabs his golden locks, holding him still as I look into his eyes. His cheeks are red as well as his lips, kiss swollen and damp. His breathing is heavy, his eyes blown out. Barely touched and already a beautiful mess.

"Huh?" He asks, his voice higher than usual as he tries to focus. His hand grasping my wrist, making sure to keep my hand where he can buck against it.

"If I asked you to, would you stay quiet?" I repeat gently, teasing him with kisses by leaning forward and pulling away. We both liked this.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Anything."

"Anything?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Anything."

Alright.

I press a quick, admittedly sloppy kiss to his lips once more before dropping to my knees and slipping under the counter. His brows furrow in confusion before he realizes what I'm doing.

"You can't!" He whispers frantically. "What if someone walks in?"

"That's why I asked if you could stay quiet," I say patiently. "Can you?"

He bites his lip, obviously unsure. His eyes dart between me and the shop door, thinking.

"We can wait," I offer genuinely. This seems to be the deciding factor.

"I'll be quiet," he promises eagerly. "I've got a pie I can shove in my mouth if I can't, right?" He jokes, his smile crooked and eager as his hands work quickly to begin freeing himself. He's excited alright.

"Right," I say, taking his hands away and undoing the buttons on his pants myself. "Just keep watch of the shop, alright sweet boy?" He nods, placing his arms on the counter and trying to resume his position.

I slip his cock from the confines of his clothes, pressing a soft wet kiss to the underside along a thick vein. A quiet whine escapes him, his hand covering his mouth. I'm not truly worried about him being quiet, no one is going to come in here during such bad weather. It's just an edge to help work him into a frenzy, knowing full well he never stays quiet. I'd thought I was vocal when we started our relationship, but Peeta easily takes the cake.

His cock is warm, half hard against my lips that trail his veins. My tongue slides from his tip to his base, barely any pressure on his skin. Grazing always works best to start out with. When I reach his base I lap at his skin, blowing soft, cold air against the wet spots to make him squirm in his chair. I focus on his base for a while, sucking, licking, blowing. Ever so gently I even bite just the tiniest bit, enough for him to notice the edges of my teeth along his red, pulsing cock. His voice is soft, panting quietly.

My tongue trails slowly up his cock, exploring different ridges and spots that make him whimper quietly, working my way back to his tip which is soaked with thick, warm precum. I wrap my lips around him, swiping the moisture away with my tongue in one round sweep. I relish in the cry it tears from his throat, the dozen little apologies he whimpers immediately after. His hand covers his mouth, and the other trails down to gently cup the back of my head. I smile around him, swirling my spit around his tip as I suck gently, pressing my tongue against the underside of his dick.

His fingers play with my hair, unintentionally tugging it and apologizing as he does. I simply squeeze his thighs and begin lowering myself, taking him until his tip hits the back of my throat, taking deep, even breaths to fight off the gags that threaten to escape me.

It's when my nose buries in his soft, curly hair at his base that the bell of the front door rings.

"Hi!" Peeta says a little too quickly, a little too brightly. "Welcome to Mellarks Bakery. How may we- I help you today?"

I'm frozen, his hand gripping my hair out of anxiety. If I pull away, we'll be done. If I stay here, Peeta may very well have to make good on his promise.

Although, acting has never been a challenge for him, has it?

The customer is describing a custom tart she wants made, then pulling out a long list and prattling about this, that, and the other thing. Her accent clearly shows her as a Capitol transfer, and these orders always take forever given that they still have a hard time releasing the concept of not over indulging. But this time I don't plan on complaining.

My tongue begins to move slowly, rubbing carefully along the bottom of his cock while I watch his face carefully. He's smiling at the woman who's still going down the list, his eyes glancing at me to confirm this is what we're doing. With a small nod from me, his hand casually covers his mouth once more and he resumes focus on the woman, his other hand now guiding my head slowly, carefully.

He pulls me to the tip of his dick, working me back and forth slowly on just that spot. My tongue works quickly, my lips wrapping around him tightly to help create proper suction around him while I suck.

"Do you have pumpkin?" The woman asks.

"W- what?" Peeta asks, clearing his throat. "Oh, pumpkin. I'll admit I'm running a little low, it's been a popular request since we don't grow them locally. I've requested more but I don't know if they'll be in in time, so if you want something that uses it you'll have to get it-" his voice cracks as I deepthroat him again, swallowing around him quickly before returning myself to his tip. He clears his throat. "You'll have to reserve it right now," he finishes. I can see him quickly scoop up some of the pie, shoving it in his mouth and trying to hide his blush. It's lucky for us how oblivious Capitol born citizens are.

His hand guides me faster, focusing on fucking his tip near the back of my throat since we both know full well how hitting the back of my throat isn't an option. We can't risk any noise gagging may cause since it may not be covered up by the soft music playing on the shop speakers, a gift from Beetee for the reopening.

His pace is fast, faster than it should be. He's close, smiling at the woman and acting as though everything is normal. His large vein throbs, precum spilling out of him with each new thrust into my mouth. My hand reaches to press two digits against the soft spot behind his balls, a sensitive spot that makes him cry and squirm.

His jaw tightens as I do this, his eyes darting down daggers quickly. I can hear coins on the counter, Peeta accepting the list and opening the register. With the loud 'clank' springing forth from the older device, he takes the chance to slam my face down fully on his cock, his fingers making the coins loudly shift around as he gives the customer her change. Tears spring to my eyes from the sudden force, swallowing around him as I focus on my breathing to recover. He promises the woman he'll do what he can and wishes her a good day, and she coos sweetly. She reaches across the counter, patting his cheek and calling him a sweet boy before turning and walking out of the bakery, the bell chiming at her exit.

Peeta looks down at me, smiling brightly. "Hi," he says with a newfound excitement.

I moan around his cock. He gets it.

"You okay?" He asks, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. I make an affirming noise, trying to smile. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" He asks, his thumbs swiping away the small tears dangling from my bottom lashes. I shake my head, swallowing around him. He moans softly, his grip tightening.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot you like it when I am, don't you?" He asks, beginning to slowly pump his dick in and out of the back of my throat. I moan happily, taking him as easily as I can.

"You know how hard it was not coming down your throat with that lady in here?" He asks. "I had to edge myself so that it wouldn't become known how much I like fucking your throat."

My cunt throbs at his words, his closeness making him willing to be more rough. He starts fucking my face in earnest, tearing noises from both of our throats as he loses himself.

"Can't do that again," he pants. "Next time I'm just taking you. I don't care who walks in." He's moaning openly now, his cock abusing me. I can feel him throbbing, twitching. There's enough precum it's all I can do to focus on swallowing and breathing.

"Show this whole District how much I love you," he babbles. "I'll eat you out on this fucking counter, I don't give a fuck."

I press my heel against my clit, grinding into it to relieve some friction as my hands steady my body against his thighs. The chair underneath of him creeks horribly. If anyone walked in now, I don't even think we'd have a small second to hide what we're doing.

"I love your fucking pussy," he rambles, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. "Love your fucking mouth. You take me so well. So eagerly."

I moan around him, spit dribbling from my mouth, hair stuck to my face. His balls slam against my chin, his wet curls pressing against my nose as he face fucks me like a rabid animal.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat," he announces. "Then you're gonna cum down mine. Again," thrust. "And again," thrust. "Until we don't even have to make dinner from how full we'll be." Goddamn, he's close.

His hands are rough, gripping my face. "Rub your tongue harder," he commands. I do, putting as much pressure as I can on his throbbing vein. He moans loudly, leaning forward and clutching my head.

"I'm coming," he pants, his voice high and tired. "Fuck, I'm coming-!"

His warm, thick load shoots down my throat, filling my mouth so much I cant breathe if I want to swallow it all.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises. "So sweet and good, eager to make me cum." His face is pressed against the cool counter, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath. His thumbs stroke my cheeks at different paces, small whimpers escaping him as I milk him dry with my mouth, making sure not a drop is left behind. When he's fully softened, I place a small kiss on his tip before tucking him back in, rebuttoning his clothes and patting his thighs one more time.

It takes a moment for me to rise, my joints stiff and my mind scrambled from the abuse it had just suffered. I stumble a little as I stand, Peeta's weak arms collecting my body and bringing me into a warm embrace.

"You're wonderful," he whispers, resting his head against my chest. I chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his messy hair.

"So are you," I say.

He looks up at me, flushed and smiling at me with the most wonderful, lazy look on his face.

"Your turn," he says, finding a new wave of surprising strength and placing me on the counter.

"Peeta, we're still open," I giggle, batting his hands away.

"I know," he says. "Did you think I was joking?"

He stares at me, smiling and eager as he begins to part my legs.

This is going to be a long night.

•《♡》•

Whoever gets second place on the poll is who I'm writing next. Feel free to send in requests for characters/scenarios! See you next time, you degenerates <3

Masterlist

[blissfullsvn]

zomnextdoor

summary. short scenarios about boynextdoor in a zombie apocalypse.

pairing. boynextdoor (ot6) x reader genre. zombie apocalypse!au, angst, fluff word count. 2.6k (0.4k–0.5k each) warnings. zombies (surprising), violence (towards the zombies + one depiction of bashing a zombie in the head), implied major character death (in 1 scenario). all scenario-specific warnings will be mentioned at the start. a/n. in light of bnd's 1st anniv, the new what?door! ep coming soon, & the sudden influx of 좀넥도 content on k-onedoor twt, i hereby present my brainrot to you. enjoy! (p.s. some scenarios are untagged bcs they're not rly fluff... but also not angst...) masterlist

sungho

archer!sungho

sungho is at archery practice when he hears it; the screams around the school, so incredibly raw that he knows they’ll echo in his mind again and again, long after today.

he finds out the reason just a few moments later, far sooner than he can properly digest the disconcerting noises. seeing the glass doors crash and break into a million pieces is a sight, but the true sight comes a second later, when the cause of the destruction hurtles towards them.

and he freezes. it’s just for a beat, but a beat too long. he sees the exact movements of the rotten fingers reaching for him, so unmistakable it’s as if he’s viewing it in slow-motion, then something in him finally clicks. he instantly ducks down, which happens the same time he feels something tug at his wrist, but his scream doesn’t get to escape his throat when he hears yours.

“sungho sunbae!” you yell as you maneuver around the onslaught of rotting bodies. you’re dragging him towards the staircase leading to the second level of your practice area, because archers will always have the upper hand from longer distances. “what the hell are you doing?”

it’s an immediate reality check. he looks around, and it’s chaos; there are zombies flowing in from every exit, screams and shouts being heard from within and outside the room, and the distinct sound of arrows being shot. he looks back to you, who’s running in front of him and pulling him along to keep him safe. 

you’re right. what is he doing? everyone knows that as an archer, agility is one of the essentials, but he had nearly lost himself from a moment of hesitance. he feels even more embarrassed that you, who has always claimed to be his super fan, is saving his ass literally single-handedly by using the back of your bow to shove the zombies away because your other hand is wrapped around his wrist.

at the realisation, he grips his own bow tighter in his hands and promptly turns around despite your protests.

“take care of my back. i’ll handle this,” he says as he walks backwards, aiming his bow at the herd.

riwoo

angst warning: implied major character death

riwoo prides himself in staying calm, even in the most extreme situations. but somehow, it shocks even himself that this statement still rings true in a national crisis.

when he hears screams so loud they burst through the music blasting in their dance practice, he doesn’t hide the raise of his eyebrows. however, he doesn’t mention anything, considering none of his members seem affected.

when the noise doesn’t cease, instead growing by the second, he raises a hand to signal a pause in their practice. one of the members runs to turn off the music, and the immediate juxtaposition that occurs is more than unsettling. with the room abruptly falling into pin-drop silence, the flood of screams rattling the walls is even more prominent. that’s when the dancers start to grow wary.

despite this, riwoo is calm. he’s confused, but not frantic. even when the doors of the practice room burst open and you stagger inside in terrified hurry, he’s calm. even when he notices the red patch of fabric on your arm that you’re clutching tightly, he’s calm. even when you’re trudging towards him with a weird gait, he’s calm. even when he's gesturing to the rest of the members to leave the room, knowing he’ll be left alone with you, he’s calm.

it’s weird, he thinks as he watches all of his members run for their lives before his eyes fall back to yours, noting the way the recognition in them is flickering. it’s weird how, instead of following his team, he’s reaching out to thumb at your tears, which only prompts more to flow down.

he thinks so again as he wraps his arms around you, tightening his hold like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do this. with you in his arms, he can clearly feel the unusual twitches from your body, and yet he’s still calm.

when you cup riwoo’s face with shaky hands, scanning his face as if to engrave it in your memory, he only offers the warmest smile he can. he tries to do the same; to capture this moment to the fullest. so when he sees the exact moment your eyes turn unfamiliar, he lets go of himself as well.

jaehyun

football player!jaehyun, fluff

if someone told jaehyun that within just a few minutes, he would receive a confession from his nine-month crush before his football match and immediately get thrown into a life or death situation, he’d laugh at them for saying nonsense.

but that’s exactly what happened.

“wait, did i hear that correctly?” jaehyun is bewildered, eyes nearly popping out of his sockets. “you… like me?”

you twiddle with your fingers and nod slowly. like this, you look even cuter than usual, and jaehyun is practically melting; it takes everything in him to not squeeze your cheeks. looking at his round eyes that are even rounder from the shock, you ask timidly, “are you going to reject me?”

“reject?!” it comes off louder than intended, but it shows just how much he’s in disbelief. “how could i ever reject you?” he lets out softly, directly reflecting the expression on his face.

the way you brighten up immediately is a sight to behold, one jaehyun would like to keep dear to himself forever. this moment is unfortunately cut short when he hears screams from the bleachers.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “what? have the others gone out already?” he peeks out of the locker rooms.

at first, he’s confused. there’s no one on the field, but the screams are increasing by the second. everyone in the audience is scurrying frantically, running and pushing past one another. despite his own apprehension, he senses your tenseness behind him and quickly cracks a joke to ease you first. “don’t tell me they’re this terrified of a mickey mouse?” he laughs, turning to look at you, but his face drops immediately.

you’re horrified. you’re watching the scene as if you’re seeing something from your nightmares come to life, and the look on your face makes him think that maybe you are. he feels himself grow antsy at your drastic reaction, and he understands why when he turns back to the field again.

if there’s one thing in the world he’s more terrified of than ghosts, it’s the possibility of an infectious virus outbreak that threatens humanity.

and he’s witnessing it happen right now.

for a football player, his legs are utterly useless now as he wobbles from his own weight. before he can drop to the ground fully, you’re already next to him and hoisting him up.

“jaehyun,” you call, and he’s surprised at the firmness of your tone, a complete contrast from the meekness before. “hold onto me tightly, okay?” you interlock your fingers together and take a step forward, standing in front of him. “we're gonna have to run.”

taesan

fluff (?)

both you and taesan are aware of how terrible this could go.

you’re in the music room, surrounded by instruments of all sorts. in normal circumstances, these instruments would be as welcoming as a warm hug, offering the solace you needed after a long day. now, seeing them only makes uneasiness zap through your veins.

you don’t have time to ponder your decision again when you hear the inhuman noises you’ve unfortunately grown familiar with. after ensuring the doors are locked well, you stride to your makeshift stage by the windows, where taesan is standing by the keyboard. he nods at the window, where a rope is hanging from the highest floor down to the ground, and you mimic the gesture before slinging your bass over your shoulders.

your fingers immediately find their positions on the instrument from muscle memory, which puts a flash of a smile on your face. you look at taesan, who’s already looking at you, and he nods reassuringly.

he smiles, “shall we play for our biggest audience yet?”

for the briefest of moments, you hear a pin-drop silence that you haven’t been able to experience since the outbreak. you shut your eyes, taking it in. then, before you realise, the bass is echoing throughout the speakers.

you look at taesan as you play, both to help your nerves from the crowd that you know will be right outside anytime soon, and to live this moment to the fullest. after all, you’re not sure whether you’ll be able to ever do this again.

taesan shares the same sentiment, because he’s soon opening his mouth to yell out the lyrics of your go-to song, the one that’s been yours ever since you joined the band together.

you flicker your eyes over to the herd that has arrived outside the room, banging at the doors and windows as they try to enter. despite the situation, looking at taesan and the way he’s relishing the music puts a smile on your face, so much that even when you see cracks start to form in the doors, you don’t feel an overwhelming sense of despair.

when you notice that the doors are bending more under the weight, you and taesan share a nod; the cue for him to step away from the keyboard and climb onto the rope behind you. it’s the final part of the song, the bass solo, which is also nearing the final part of your plan.

the second you hit the last note, you unceremoniously swing the bass towards the door and jump into taesan’s arms, just in time for the doors to break down.

leehan

taekwondo athlete!leehan warning: one depiction of bashing a zombie in the head

the peace of leehan’s nap gets shattered when he hears the thud of the door, immediately followed by irritating growls and a poorly muffled scream. he’s ready to ignore them until he hears the cart of balls being pulled away and crashing into something, presumably the zombie itself, which has not only pierced his eardrums but also unveiled his hiding place to sleep in the gym’s storage room.

he sighs. dropping the open book covering his face, he stands up and adjusts the lollipop in his mouth before placing his hands in his pockets. he walks towards the opposite corner of the room, where the source of the disturbance finally comes into view.

you’re cowering behind a stack of mats. despite the top of your head clearly peeking out, you don’t dare to look at anything beyond the faux shield. he merely spares one glance at you before he turns to the problem itself. then, he notes that it’s either the zombie has strength that’s off the charts, or you’re incredibly bad at pushing and aiming, because the cart is nowhere near the zombie and is by the wall instead. 

he shrugs off the observation when he sees the zombie staggering towards him, and he slowly takes a few steps back. then, in an action as swift as the wind, he twists his body in a semicircular motion and delivers a kick right to the zombie’s head, effectively bashing it onto the floor—all the while keeping his hands in his pockets and the lollipop dangling over his lips.

you’ve since looked up from your hiding spot, and there’s a newfound expression on your face. however, when you look back at the twitching body on the floor, the fear returns at once. 

leehan looks over to you, and in the most nonchalant tone, as if he hadn’t just casually roundhouse-kicked a zombie, he says, “don't lure them in here. they're so loud.”

you can only offer a shaky nod, and then he’s walking back to his original position. but when he sees you stand up and stumble towards the door, he halts in his steps and turns to face you completely.

“didn’t you hear what i said? you’ll lure them in if you open the door. just stay here.”

woonhak

you’ve never had a proper interaction with woonhak, but from the bits of information you’ve unwillingly gathered due to his popularity, your impression of him isn’t the best. he’s loud, boisterous, and sometimes just rowdy; you can’t help but paint him as this immature kid in your head.

but your prejudice has been completely shattered today.

when the signs of a virus outbreak first appeared in your school, starting with your classmate who had entered the class with a ghostly pale complexion and nosebleed, all you knew was you had to run. and that’s all you’ve been doing for the past hour, burning your muscles and lungs without stopping to narrowly avoid the grasp of death.

until you found yourself tripping over a stack of tables, and your legs got trapped under all the tables that had toppled over you.

when you tried to pull your legs out, all it did was cause the tables to fall even more, making it harder for you to move at all. the noise had also attracted the zombies roaming endlessly, so when you saw silhouettes dashing towards the room after your futile attempts to get yourself up, you had already resigned yourself to your fate—the mangled jaws right before your eyes. you could only shut your eyes and brace yourself for the inevitable.

then you heard the groans from the herd in front of you, followed by the lessened weight on your legs and the crash of something across the room, and you immediately opened your eyes.

there, standing in front of you, is kim woonhak. he has a table in his hands, the flat surface facing him and the legs outwards, using it to hold back the herd before you with a wince.

you don’t know how, but he manages to hold the table with one hand while reaching out with his other to grab onto another table over your legs, hurling it across the room.

you watch him do this for a few moments, until it finally clicks that the noise is too loud. you search around the room frantically for something—anything—you could do to help, and your eyes soon land on a baseball bat a short distance away.

“woonhak,” you call.

“yeah?” he grimaces, struggling to use the table as a shield when the crowd seems to grow by the second.

“are you good with a baseball bat?” you ask, holding up the weapon.

he turns to you for a split second, seeing the bat before he faces the front again. he instantly catches what you’re insinuating, and his decision is a no-brainer.

“pass it,” he reaches out his hand without looking.

you’re surprised, but you don’t waste another second before giving it to him. almost immediately, he drops his makeshift shield, and what you see next completely repaints your image of him. by the time you’re able to get yourself out, he has already cleared half of them. it seems you’re constantly getting surprised today.

before he can pass out, you quickly tap on his shoulder and grab the bat from him without asking. “thanks a lot, woonhak. take a breather; i’ll take care of the rest.”

a/n. half of this was easy to write, and half was hell. guess which one was which

fyi, i wrote this with them all being high school students in mind, but you don't have to imagine them like this! except for woonhak ofc

anw, don't ask me why i wrote riwoo's part like that bcs i hv no idea either. it just felt right. so enjoy... hopefully...

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[madamechrissy]

Up in The Air

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Breeding kink (Suguru needs twins duhh) ass smacking, anal play, Suguru is obsessed with reader's ass, blow jobs, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 7,035

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ You have been jilted at the altar by your groom, Mahito, who has led you on for years. Your best friends, Maki and Yuta, suggest to go on this Honeymoon alone, to get away and find yourself again. On the plane ride, you run into a gorgeous man on a business trip, who holds your hand when you say that you're terrified of planes, Suguru Geto. You all fall into easy conversation, and there's chemistry, he makes you feel better than you had in a long time. You think to ask his number, when he realizes that his room has fallen through.

Well, you have a big honeymoon suite, and you suggest he stays with you. What can go wrong? Not like you don't wanna straddle him or anything...

Chapter 7 - Masterlist Playlist

Chapter 8

3 days till Vacation ends

You stretch the next morning, with the sun filtering through the windows, bright against your eyes. Your entire body is aching with all of the… well, exertions, it had been put through the past few days. Your pussy throbs just a bit, and your thighs are so sore, when you sit up in the big bed.

You look over to see the rumpled blankets and sheets next to you. You rub your hand against it, smiling a bit, remembering last night with Suguru. Your nose starts to smell something sweet, and you, like some cartoon character, want to follow the trail, and as you stand, your feet on the fluffy carpet beneath you, the sounds of clanging hit your ears.

You also hear some… is that Suguru’s sexy voice singing!? You pad out to the kitchen area, smiling at this vision in front of you. Suguru is at the stove, shirtless with just his boxers on, framing that rather nice ass he has, you can’t help but bite your lip, watching the strong muscles in his back move.

He’s singing softly, but… it sounds so good, as you come closer, and realize he must have earbuds in, as he doesn’t turn to see you yet, you get to enjoy more of him… being him. Although you are undoubtedly head over heels (let’s be honest you were when he held your hand on that plane) there was still so much to learn about him. While you were an open book, he was a bit more reserved.

You hope to get that chance, as your chest tightens just watching him. He's got a wooden spoon in one hand, and with the other, he's flipping a pancake into the air. It does a little twirl before landing perfectly back into the pan with a sizzle. You giggle at the sight, and finally he catches sight of you and smirks, winking charmingly at you, then putting the pan back on the stove, turning the heat off.

“Morning Princess.” He comes to you, taking out his ear buds, before pulling you against his bare chest. You grin, as you see he has a little batter on his cheek, swiping it off for him, fuck he looks so gorgeous, he’s got this tan from all the sun, making his skin glow from the sunlight streaming in. You run your hands down his chest, exhaling.

“Good morning, handsome.” He cups your face, bending down and kissing you, and you just melt, as he presses his lips against yours, as you feel the heat from his hard body, filling you with desire, with…

You’re a love sick teenager basically.

You just fawn over him.

You look up at him with glittery eyes, smiling, trying to hold back to urge to just spout it out- “Suguru Geto I love you”- yeah no. You’d let it slip because your brain gets stupid when that man fucks you, how could you think when his cock wrecks your pussy and your thoughts are jumbled? But even right now you gulp it down.

He needs time and that’s fine, it’s better than fine, you did not ever expect even that, even him asking you to be his girlfriend. Now it’s a million times worse, these feelings, growing so quickly it should scare you, but it doesn’t. You’d spend so damn long hating your body, hating your personality, and Mahito had been what you perceived as some ‘gift’ when in fact, he had wasted so much time.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, looking at the pancakes he’d made, a whole stack of them. “This looks amazing, oh gosh! Suguru you cook?”

“Of course I do. Thought I’d treat you, Princess. You looked so sleepy and cute so I didn’t wake you.” He flips the last pancake off, and your hand goes to his back, trailing down his spine and he moans softly. “Hey now, these will get cold if you keep that up.”

“You’re so sweet to do this. Thank you!” He tugs at your ponytail, shaking his head, his eyes lidded as he looks at you.

“It’s nothing, love. Sit down, let me make you a plate.” You eagerly do as he says, sitting down at the little table you all honestly had barely used so far. “How many do you want?”

“Like one is fine. Or two!”

“Three it is.”

“That’s too much, silly.”

“How you gonna keep that nice big ass if you don’t eat!?” You snort in laughter, blushing then, as he continues to make you feel so much better about your body, the thing that Mahito had shit on you over. You loved to work out a bit and naturally had a little muscle, and yeah, a big ass. And though men had complimented it, back then, Mahito’s words had…

“You’re so silly, Suguru. It’s mostly from me and Maki squatting at the gym, and genetics.”

“Uh-huh, but you need food for that, be a good girl and eat for me.” You sigh, smiling up at him, resting your chin in your hand. He makes it hard not to spout endless I love yous.

“Two then.” He grins, as you shoot a wink, and he places two on there, then hands you the syrup, coming to sit next to you.

“Thanks, looks so yummy. Mmm, it is yummy!” You nibble on the fluffy pancake, moaning then.

“You gotta be sexy even eating hmm?” Your heart flutters, looking over at him, his handsome face lit by the sunlight, casting shadows against his chiseled cheeks, his tongue darting to lick syrup off a lip.

“Says you, looking like pure sex over there.” You run your bare foot up his leg then, and his brows raise as he peeks down.

“You playing footsie with me, bratty girl?” You just grin, chewing another bite.

“Maybe I am.” You slide your foot higher, until it’s on his thigh, and he grunts then, brows drawing together.

“I should teach you a lesson about teasing.” You continue rubbing your foot against that strong thigh, until your toes tease him where he’s semi hard, and his eyes narrow at you.

“Something… up… Sugu?” You sip on your coffee, smirking, and then you gasp when he’s grabbed you so quickly, slinging you over his lap. You squeal at that, wriggling then. “Hey!”

“Hmm how many smacks.” He trails his fingers down your shorts, before shoving them down, exposing your ass to the cool air. You shiver, starting to feel wetness already as his big hand connects with a loud smack.

“Oof!” It stings, and he hums, contentedly, rubbing your ass then.

“Fuck it bounces so nicely. Mmm, I say a few more. What do you say, my bratty Princess?” You shiver at that, at his caress, at him asking permission in his own way, as if he really needed to. But that’s who he was. He always made sure things were okay with you.

“I think I need… a few more. I’m very bratty this morning.” He chuckles, and you feel his body shaking with that, before he smacks you again, admiring it.

“Look how it jiggles.” He smacks it again, alternating cheeks, until you’re a mess, moaning and grabbing onto his lap helplessly. “Think I’m obsessed.”

“With my ass?” You peek up at him, your face is flushed, your eyes glittering, as the pain makes you wetter. He grabs your ass with his hands, squeezing and grinning, that crooked little grin, the one that makes his eyes crinkle.

The one you love.

“I am an ass man. It’s true. But obsessed with your moans, those little cries from the back of your throat.” You tense, as his words wash over you, in that husky tone, as he finds your slit, his grip on your ass cheek tightening. “How wet you get. How pretty you look when you blush.”

“Fuck.” Is all you manage, and when he slides a thick, long finger in your entrance, you cry out in pleasure, wetness seeping out around it.

“Yeah… fuck.” His voice is gruff, husky, and you feel him, so hard under you, as his hands slide up.

“Sugu… Please.” You whisper, and before you know it, you’re on his lap, straddling him in the chair, his eyes hungry, those full lips parted as he looks up at you, exhaling and grabbing your hips tightly. Your hands go to his shoulders, as he hastily frees himself, cock slapping against his belly button, before it starts disappearing inside your greedy little cunt.

“Princess… I… oh god…” Suguru moans, head falling back, long hair falling softly against his shoulders, as his teeth come to worry his lower lip. You cry out as you take him in, inch by inch, stretching and filling you.

“Mnh… it’s so-ah!” He yanks you down, shoving all the way in you then, filling you to the brim, against your cervix. You’re gushing around him, having trouble even catching a breath. “Sugu!”

“You’re so tight, fuck.” He exhales, lifting you up, just to jerk up his hips and slam back into you again, and you pulse around him now, gushing around his thick cock. Your eyes roll back, head falling as you roll your hips, feeling him impossibly deep against you, and he yanks your top off. “Pretty perfect tits.”

“Ngh-ah- Thank-mnnh-” You can’t form a word, not when his hot mouth takes one of the peaks of your breasts, sucking on it, and it’s so sensitive you cry out, and he’s got his eyes shut, brows low, his hands digging in your waist, thumbs against your ribs, as he fucks up into you.

“Oh my god.” He whispers, and when he looks up you see his cheeks, dusted with pink, pupils blown out so much his eyes look like pure honey. Your thighs squeeze his then, as you struggle to move, with all the pressure inside driving you insane, so close to cumming already. But then he stands, making you squeal, your legs wrapped on his hips.

“What are you-” Before you know it, he’s got you up on the table, and he’s shoved the plates over, they fall to the floor and you giggle, breathless, as he glares down at you.

“You can still laugh, huh? Gotta fix that.” His tone, how dark and sexy he gets, as he slams his cock inside you, and your head falls back on the cold wood of the table, and he is rhythmically pounding into you. “Stopped-ha- that laugh. Yeah?”

“Y-yes-yes-yes, Sugu yes.” You’re muttering as he throws one of your legs over his chest, your heel resting on his shoulder, pulling your hips and sliding you down his length, filling you so deep you can’t take it. You start nearly squirting wetness around his cock, as he fucks into you, and it’s dripping down your ass, down to this fancy table he’s wrecking you on.

“Cum all over me, Princess. Need to feel that perfect little pussy tighten around me.” You couldn’t stop it if you tried, screaming out, back arching, as he rolls his hips and presses in, bottoming out inside you, his hand sliding up to your throat, groaning as he feels you.

“Sugu s’fucking good. S’much… cum too…” You stutter as his hand wraps tight around your throat, thumb pressing up under your pulse point, looking to you for the okay, and you eagerly take his wrist, nodding.

He moans out, squeezing the sides then, cutting off your oxygen, you start feeling that pressure and his cock fucking into you, harder than he had yet, and you’re adjusting to it, slippery so that he’s in and out with ease. His free hand is on your soft tummy then, pressing down, and fuck if you don’t feel him there, his cock, just wrecking anything you have.

“Love looking at my hand around your tiny little throat.” He says, husky, moaning as he speaks, as his muscles bunch while he fucks into you, his abdomen tightening, looking so good you can’t take your eyes off it, except his face? Even prettier.

Your eyes lock, as your face reddens, as he’s rolling his hips and the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, grinding then, and you begin to feel everything exploding, stars bursting in your eyes, vision fuzzy. You cry out silently, clinging to him desperately, as your orgasm hits, washing all over your body, goosebumps everywhere as your cunt gushes on his cock.

Your ears ring and you feel like you’re floating, so blissful, as you keep cumming, as he fucks you into another orgasm, and you’re on that brink when he releases your throat then, picking you up and sliding out of you. You whine at that, weakly grabbing on to him, greedily sucking in air, he kisses you deeply before turning you, bending you over the table now.

“Wanna watch this ass jiggle while I fuck you so good.” His voice is so husky, his hands so powerful, as he puts you where he wants you, owning you, arching your ass up and sliding back in then. “Oh-fuck-s’good. Princess.”

“Mnh, Sugu!” Your voice is hoarse as you cry out, as he starts hitting it from the back, long cock slamming your already abused cervix. Your breasts are pressed against the table, hands desperately clinging to it, knuckles going white, as his hands press those dimples in your back.

“This ass, so fucking nice ugh. Princess, let me smack it again?” You nod, eagerly, and he pulls back just a bit, smacking it hard. “Look at that handprint. Need another.”

He smacks the other side again, stinging and burning, but it’s so good, you love the pain, it makes your walls flutter around his thickness. He hisses at that, and smacks you again, thrusting harder and faster, and shaking your body with each thrust, until his hands pull your ass cheeks apart, and you feel spit sliding down your ass, hot and sticky, somewhere Suguru hadn’t touched yet.

“Sugu- you…” He’s slowing down now, one hand running down your spine, the other caressing between your cheeks, and you’re trembling, cunt throbbing at overwhelming sensations he brings.

“Can I play with it, Princess? Only if you want.” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip, nervous, looking back at him, seeing his pupils blown out, desire mirrored in his handsome face, looking entranced by you.

“You’re really obsessed with my ass.” You tease, he laughs a bit. “And did you just spit on it!?”

“Sure did. I’ll do it again.” You watch him, and the look of it is so lewd, so naughty, you can’t take it, whining and pushing your ass out.

“Just like… you wanna touch it? It’s hard to think with your cock in me mnh.” Your head swirls, and his thumb slides around the little hole then, and you shiver at such a feeling.

“Really wanna finger it. If you want.”

“That sounds so freaky!” He laughs, then you sigh, nodding shyly. You feel his thumb, slick with your arousal and his saliva push in, so slow, stretching your little hole out, and you can feel your body tightening around his cock. He hisses as you clamp down, pressing in and out of your ass while his cock hits that spot. “Oh god!”

“Is that-ah fuck- okay Princess?” He asks softly, as he fucks your pussy, his thumb in your ass still, pushing deeper, it’s a painful stretch but it seems to just push you further, make you wetter.

“It’s good, it’s good.” He’s gripping you hard then, and you hear the smacks as he snaps his hips against the fat of your ass, and then he’s got a finger in your ass instead of a thumb, and you whine out, hips bucking at it, and you feel your ass stretch around it, making little noises as he goes in deeper.

“So tight, fuck. Pussy and that little ass mmm. Perfect Princess.” You’re lost in the sensations, lost in his touch, lost in how much he makes you feel, and you just let go, sobbing his name out as your body trembles and spasms, your orgasm so intense it makes your knees buckle, and now you can’t even hold up, you’re pressed against the table, legs useless.

“S-Sugu-ru. S’good yes please. More.” He groans then, fucking your cunt with his huge cock, fucking your little ass with his finger, and you’re spilling all over him, tightening around him, overstimulated and blinded by how good he makes every bit of you feel.

“Close Princess. Let me paint this pretty ass, yeah?” You tense a bit in anticipation, as it was not something Geto had done with you yet.

“Mnh, go ‘head, cum on me Sugu.” He groans, fucking you into another orgasm before he yanks out, and you feel hot, sticky white ropes decorating your overheated skin, and hear Suguru moan low in his throat.

“Holy fuck that is so hot. I need a picture.” You giggle at him. “Just kidding, love… but not really?”

“You’re somehow a gentleman and a total perv.” He smacks your butt cheek one more time, laughing a bit. “FIne, get your phone and take one.”

Suguru runs.

***

Two Days till Vacation ends

“Breakfast was so good, thank you Princess.” Suguru says softly, as he helps you wash dishes after you had just made him food, and how bad he just wants to eat you , honestly.

“Your pancakes were fluffier!” Your cheeks are pink, your eyes are glittery, and you’re so gorgeous then, when aren’t you, but you have a little sunburn that’s making you even cuter. That’s all he can ever think of, touching you, tasting you… he can’t ever get enough. “What are you thinking about, handsome?”

He’s thinking about how fucking happy he is, how much he never wants to leave, how he just wants to keep you safe from the world. He thinks of how badly he loves to please you, to see how many times he can make you cum, how messy he can get your little pussy… 

As the last plate clatters into the drying rack, Suguru turns to you, a wicked glint in his eye. "You want to know what I've been thinking about, Princess?" He asks, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

"What, Sugu?" You dry your hands now too, then he’s there, big hands on your hips, gripping, you tilt your head to look up at him, meeting his honeyed eyes.

"This." Before you know it, he's lifted you onto the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. The cool marble sends a shiver through you, and he kisses you deeply, his hands sliding up the outside of your thighs.

“Mnh!” You’re meeting his lips for each kiss, his tongue, sliding into your mouth then, before he pulls away, leaving you breathless, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"I want to taste you again," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. And with that, he's spreading your legs wide, your feet dangling, and he's on his knees in front of you, your pussy starts dripping like on command. God anything he does makes you wet, but especially when he just… worships you like this. “Want me to, Princess?”

You lean back on your elbows, running his silky long locks back, trembling as he kisses up your thighs, teasing you with feather-light touches until you're squirming. “You don’t have to ask, of course I do, Sugu. Please .”

His mouth is hot and wet against your skin, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second, that tightening in your tummy as he slides off your shorts, leaving you bare to his gaze. Suguru kisses right next to your glistening pussy, sighing, his hot breath making you ache, gripping his hair maybe too tightly. Then you grab your ponytail.

“Wait…” He peeks up, and you sit up more, taking his long silky locks that fall in front of his face, and putting them up in a ponytail. He smirks at you, looking far too attractive now.

“Some expert now, huh? Coming prepared.” You giggle, shaking your head and running a thumb down his lower lip softly, but the giggles stop when his tongue is there, sliding through your folds, and you gasp. He's so gentle, his hot tongue circling your clit slowly, and it sends shockwaves through your body. 

You could never get used to this, how intense he is, how he devours you like you’re his meal.

He looks up at you, those chocolate eyes full of heat, and then he sucks on your clit, hard, surprising you, but it feels so fucking good. You’re whimpering, arching your back, and he moans against you, vibrations making you tremble, your breath catching as he plays your clit like an expert, sucking and humming, his hands spreading your thighs apart.

“Cumming-Sugu! S’good…” Your entire body grows taut, stomach sucking in as your head knocks back on the cabinet above you with a thud, and he just hums again, until your orgasm crashes over you, and you're clutching the edge of the counter, your toes curling with the force of it. “Ah-f-fuckk!”

Suguru laps up every drop, his face buried in you, fingers gripping so tight against your plush thighs as you fall apart, and when you finally come down just a bit from that high, he stands, kissing up your stomach, leaving a trail of wetness until he reaches your mouth.

“Taste so fucking good, Princess.” He whispers, and you lick yourself off him, swiping your finger against his chin, then he groans at the sight, as you reach down and find him, rock hard against his boxers, making him exhale, his brows drawing low.

“Fuck me, Sugu, please .” You pout, giving him those eyes that drive him insane, and of course he’ll fuck you, god when didn’t he want to be inside you?

Suguru never wants this to end.

As he slides inside of you, you scream out, gripping his strong back, as he slides his thick cock in your eager little pussy, and fucks you right on the kitchen counter.

God you don’t ever want this to end.

***

Last Day of Vacation

Suguru is caressing your waist, as you all stand on the balcony in the night, the wind flowing through your hair, blowing the little sundress you wore around your legs. Suguru feels so good behind you, so good holding you, his strong arms, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath on your ear. Your hands gently hold his forearms, as you lean back into the embrace.

The moon is a silver sliver, hanging in the dark sky, surrounded by glittering stars peppering the expanse of the sky, reflection on the ocean, which looks black in the night, waves gently crashing the shore. The sound of the waves is a soothing rhythm, the saltwater in the air hits your nose, along with Suguru’s scent, one that you just adore, fresh and clean.

You lean further into Suguru's embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His hand moves to rest on your tummy now, and you feel the flutter of butterflies, all the past week he’d… cum in you. Fucked you. Even talked about how he wanted to breed you. It feels so intimate.

You've only known each other for a week, but it feels like a lifetime, like he is the only one to ever truly understand you, since that moment you met. Every moment together has been a stolen piece of time, something so special, that you’re just terrified to let it go, to go back tomorrow morning. This has been your little paradise, and now the real world will come knocking.

“What are you thinking about, Princess?” Suguru turns your face to look up at him, his dark eyes glowing amber in the night. “Tears…” He wipes two tears that trail down your cheeks.

“I’m just thinking how lucky I am, to be in your arms. How happy this week has made me. How beautiful you are, inside and out.” He exhales, grip tightening, he turns you around to face him, your back leaned against the railing, as you look up at him, caressing his chest, bared slightly in the kimono he wore.

“Princess, I’m the lucky one. I haven’t… ever been so happy.” He says, huskily, you tremble in his hold, as his words soak in. God, how he just looks at you, like you are so precious, makes your chest tighten.

“Me either, Sugu.” He bends down and kisses you softly, cupping your face in his big hands, and you fall into it, lips molding to form to his, those sparks like electric tickling your skin.

“Let me have you, Princess, one more time here.” He says softly, and you nod, sniffling then.

“I’m yours, Sugu.” He exhales at that, and then you let him pick you up, carrying you to the bed, sliding your dress up, kissing down your tummy, until his head is between your thighs.

You cry out as his mouth finds you, mouth gently kissing your entrance, tongue slipping around your clit. He eats you desperately, hungrily, moaning against you and vibrating against you and making you soak his mouth. He laps you up, every bit, sounds filling the silent room with the wide open balcony, the white curtains blowing in as you scream out.

Then, you’re flipping Suguru over, kissing down his hard abdomen, which tenses as you lick down below his belly button, that little trail of hair there tempting you. Then you take his length into your mouth, he brushes your hair that’s falling like a curtain against him, as you suck him deep, tip brushing your uvula.

“Princess, fuck you’re so good…” He urges you on, as you’re swirling your tongue around him, tasting that precum on his tip.

Then, you’re on him, sinking inch by inch, tip entering your hot, wet entrance, stretching you and making you gasp. You all had fucked many times this week, but the first thrust always took a lot, his cock wasn’t something you just got used to, no it was thick, long…

“Perfect!” You cry out, as his hands grab your hips, rocking you down on his length, watching with a groan as his cock disappears inside of your tight little entrance, entranced by it.

“Perfect. Perfect.” He whispers, urging you up and down, grabbing your ass, gripping it tightly and shoving all the way inside of you.

Your head throws back, your breasts in his face, bouncing, and he greedily sucks on the peaks, squishing the fullness of them in his big hands, you whine out as he plays with them, rough palms against soft skin. You fall forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, clinging to him, and he’s fucking up into you, deep powerful thrusts, slamming your cervix.

“Suguru! I’m gonna… oh f-fuckk, there, there!” He’s pushing you down, his breath hot against your lips as he stares into your eyes, his are lidded, thin ring of honeyed brown wrapping dilated pupils, then one of his hands brush your hair back.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, making emotion catch in your throat, as he jerks his hips up, shifting his position inside your little cunt, and you’re shivering on top of him, cumming hard, your brow furrowing, lips parting as you cry out. “That’s it, Princess, cum all over me. Good girl.”

“Ohmyfucking-” You’re moaning into his mouth, his hands running up your back, having grown slick with sweat from riding him. Then he’s flipping you, putting your leg up high and thrusting in deep, hitting your cervix again and again, until you’re losing all your senses, but you don’t want any senses.

You just want Suguru.

He’s leaning down, his heavy weight on your breasts, his knees digging in the soft mattress, sinking you down further, the soft light from the starry sky outside casting shadows against the planes of his face. A face you love, lips, cheekbones, that cleft in his chin, that sharp jawline… that smile… but mostly? Those eyes, the slanted ones that look right into you.

You love his face.

You love the way he makes you feel.

You-

“Cum for me, Princess. Need to feel you around me.” He whispers gruffly, and you nod, sucking in a breath, as he fucks you deeper, as his hand finds you between your bodies, rubbing that little bud.

“Sugu-I…” You gulp it down, you hadn’t said it since that night, and he had not returned it. Now you were, well, scared. Scared to scare him away.

“Look at me when you cum.” Your eyes meet his, and you melt, as he’s rolling his hips, hitting your g spot then your cervix, and your clit, it’s all too much.

The pressure inside your tummy burst, and you’re gushing around him, so intense you can barely see, and Suguru’s still rubbing your clit back and forth, overstimulating you now. You’re wriggling under him, and he’s smirking, as you cum again and now your manicured nails are digging into the perfect skin on his back, and his head falls back at it.

“T’much, Sugu. T’much can’t take-mnh!” He’s unrelenting, and you’re about to cum again and it’s overwhelming, his rhythm getting jerky, hips stuttering.

“One more time, Princess. One more. With me.” He slams his lips on you, hands on your thighs, pressing deep inside you, and when he’s shooting hot streams of cum inside you, groaning on top of you, clinging to your body as he pumps, that ends you, you can’t take it.

“Love you-love you. Love. You. Sugu.” You’re mumbling incoherently, as he’s coming down a bit from the high, looking down at you then, his lips parting. You shake your head, kissing him. “S’okay, Sugu. Don’t need to say it. I’m sorry.”

He exhales, easing out of you then, laying on his side and pulling you against him, and god you fit so well. “Don’t say sorry, please. It’s nothing to apologize for… if anything it’s so-”

“No, no. I shouldn’t.” You’re tearing up then, breaths coming in little pants, and he frowns, holding you tight then, bringing you against his broad chest, so that you hear his heart beating against your ear.

“Princess, I-”

“No. Don’t say something to make me feel better.”

“What? I don’t-”

You lean up and kiss him, tears salty on your lips as the aftershocks of your climax rock through you, and you’re just trembling in his arms, his hand rubbing up between your shoulder blades, pulling you impossibly closer. He exhales into your lips, God you’d die to hear him say it. You yearn for it.

“I don’t wanna pressure or rush you, I just couldn’t stop myself. I try so hard to not say it constantly.” You’re whispering against his lips, and he kisses your forehead sweetly, pulling a blanket on you then and covering you.

“Don’t hold back with me, please, Princess. I don’t want parts of you, I want to have all of you.” At that you’re sobbing now, and he’s there as you’re shaking with the force of it, wiping your tears delicately.

“It d-doesn’t bother y-you, Sugu?” He laughs a bit, the sound is darker than you are used to.

“Bother me? The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen saying she loves me? After getting to cum in her perfect pussy? Looking at me with those well fucked eyes? Yeah no, I’d say I'm stupid lucky.” You manage a little smile, your tear-soaked lashes lowering over your cheeks. “I am not as open with my feelings, I’m scared too you know.”

“You are?” He nods, prominent adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat as he gulps, his chocolate gaze drinking you in, making your breaths calm as he reassures you more and more.

“Scared shitless. How has someone I just met gotten so special so quickly? Taken up so much space here.” He puts your hand on his chest where his heart is thudding steadily. You bite your lower lip, splaying your tiny hand on his big chest, kissing him once more, slowly, sensually.

“I have a little spot in your heart, Sugu?” You ask through watery eyes, voice shaking just a bit, and he smiles, that upturn of his lips.

“You have a very big spot, you nearly take over it. Please keep being open, and be patient, I’m not as brave as you. Short little brat.”

“Hey!” You shove at him, but he’s tickling you now, making you giggle, then cry out, you all end up a mess of tangled sheets. Until you’re both kissing, so desperately, so passionately, falling into each other, endlessly.

“I’m so sad we’re leaving.” Suguru whispers soon, as he’s holding you from behind, as you fit perfectly in his arms.

“I am too. But, this won’t end, right? Just we won’t have the time.”

“We’ll make time. Fuck you on my desk at work.”

You flush, turning to look at him. “What!?”

“Absolutely. This ass bent over? Umph.” You giggle at that, shaking your head as he grabs said ass.

“You’re so obsessed with it!”

“Sure fucking am. It’s a close favorite, but pussy and pretty face win. Face number one, but they come close.”

“You’re so silly. I can’t pick a favorite part… I guess, the entire body second? And this gorgeous face first. Especially these eyes.” He laughs a bit at that, pressing kisses across your face. “I can’t wait to introduce you… if you want… to my friends? My mom? Is that weird so soon?”

“No, it’s not weird. I look forward to it. And you’ll meet my friends, trust me they’re all messed up.”

“I’ll fit right in!”

You both laugh at that, and then before you know it, you’re asleep in Suguru Geto’s arms, the man you’ve so quickly fallen head over heels for, with a weight in your heart as you think of going back home.

Sometime in the night, you’re tossing and turning, and screaming out in your sleep. Suguru wakes up, his eyes shooting open, and he looks down at you, his heart racing, feeling you tremble in his arms. His chest tightens as he stares at you, worry in his throat, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

“Princess?” He whispers, stroking your hair, and you whimper a bit, your eyelashes fluttering, still caught in the throes of your nightmare.

“Not good enough… not… I’m not.” Suguru’s heart aches at that, as he looks at your beautiful little face all contorted, and he tries to gently shake you, but you’re stuck in this.

“You’re more than good enough. Princess, please.” He kisses your forehead, continuing to shake you, but you’re all tense.  He wraps his arms tighter around you, his chest to your back, trying to soothe you, but your body keeps shaking, a tear slipping down your cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

“Not good ‘nuff. Dad left… Mahito was right, he was… right.” Suguru tenses at the mention of your ex fiance, the one who talked so disgustingly to you. And he doesn’t feel right hearing about your father in your sleep, he doesn’t know if you want him to know. He continues to shake you, laying on you now and tapping your cheek.

“You’re perfect. Perfect. He was wrong. Baby wake up.”

Your jaw clenches, your entire body, as if you’re in a night terror, and he slowly realizes he can’t wake you. So he just rubs your stiff arms gently, feeling emotion in his eyes as he watches this pain you’re in. He doesn’t know if he can help with this, with this unconscious pain.

“I’m here. It’s Sugu… please.” His voice breaks a bit, as you take a shaky breath, flipping over on your side, curled in a little ball.

“Don’t leave me. I’ll be good, I'll be better.”

Fuck.

Damaged didn’t even begin to describe what this man has done to you, Suguru gets fucking furious now, seething as he watches you crumble, when you deserved to have a sweet dream. And now you’re holding yourself, and he comes to cuddle you, pulling you against him.

“Sugu. Sugu, please.” Suguru brushes your now messy hair back, taking a ponytail off his wrist and putting your hair up, feeling how damp you are at your scalp, a thin sheen of sweat on your body.

“I’m here, Princess. Not going anywhere.” You seem to calm down, as if his words finally hit somewhat, much to Suguru’s relief.

“Love you. Love you Sugu. Don’t go. Please.” Suguru struggles with his emotions now, as you so desperately cling to the arm that is around you.

“I’m not leaving. I’m here.” You finally settle some, your tense body easing under his gentle rubs, and you leave him… breathless, hurt for you, angry for you, and protective of you.

He will never let you get hurt again.

***

“My jaw hurts.” You touch it gingerly, as you and Suguru are waiting at the airport, and Suguru looks at you, softly, a little sad almost. “Oh no, what’s wrong!”

“You had a nasty nightmare. It was rough.” He says, and he looks tired, bags under his hooded eyes as he rolls both of your bags and you follow.

“I’m so sorry! I kept you up-”

“Don’t apologize for bad dreams. I just wish I could have got you out of it.” You all wait in the line now, and you hold him around his waist, in the busy airport, people everywhere around you, but it feels like just you and him.

“Thank you for trying. I do have bad nightmares but I haven’t since… Well, since I’ve been with you. Was I talking in my sleep?” You look up to see his side profile, his eyes looking down a bit, making you tense against him.

“Yeah, quite a bit. It was… private things, and I don’t want to mention it, because I want to wait for you to tell me.” You sigh, mind wandering, did you scare him off? He’s so tense, did he… “Hey.”

You look up then, as he lets your bags on the floor and cups your face. “Yes, Suguru?”

“I’m not leaving okay?” At the words, out of nowhere, you start blinking back the tears, emotional as you look up at him.

“Thank you, Suguru. Thank you.” He nods a bit, kissing you gently, right in front of anyone who could see. Mahito had been ashamed of you, but Suguru? He seemed proud.

“Cheer up Princess, we’re gonna have a good flight. Mile high club maybe?” You flush then, as he chuckles, and pulls you against his chest.

You all sit in the same seats you did last time, but now you’re both right against each other, your head on his shoulder, his big hand possessive on your leg, and as the turbulence hits, you’re unafraid. Suguru is holding your hand, brushing his fingertips along your delicate knuckles, kissing your hand like the damn gentleman he is, with those soft, firm lips.

“Ugh, I love you so much.” You curse then. “Shit!”

“It’s all right. Don’t hold back. I’m here, okay?” He’s so supportive, as he kisses your cheek now, brushing back your hair. “So who are you meeting first? My crazy ass best friend maybe?”

You giggle at that, heart aching for him, tummy in knots. “I’d love to meet your best friend. Family, friends, whoever you want to introduce me to. I’d love you to meet my mom too!”

He hesitates a bit. “Do you… have a dad too? Sorry if that’s too personal.”

Your heart stutters, as you look down and think about him, the man who left you at age ten, the man you’ve not had in your life. The original man to make you feel not good enough. “I don’t have a dad, no. My mom, she’s amazing! You’ll freaking love her so much, and she’ll love you.”

“I look forward to it. Your dad… is not in the picture?”

“Not since I was ten. Don’t really remember much. He just left one day, so it’s been me and mom.” You look away, shoving in deep emotions.

“I’m glad you’re close.”

“Do you have parents, Suguru?”

“Uh… no. I don’t.” At that you blink, staring up at him, your heart in pieces, how could you not know this about him!? How had you not-

“I am awful, why haven’t I even asked!? I’m so sorry. I’m too selfish and absorbed in-”

“Stop it. Now,” he orders, and you suck in a breath. “I didn’t ask about your family until now either. I didn’t have time between…” He leans in, caressing your cheek gently, mouth on your ear. “Fucking your brains out, now did I?”

Your body reacts vividly, you can’t even breathe, as desire hits, of all the positions Suguru had you in, of all the kisses, the hands entwining, the orgasms all over his face, his mouth, his hands. His hand on your thigh squeezes gently, and you shift in the airplane seat.

“Y-yeah, I didn't have time, cumming so much… to ask.” You whisper back, and he pulls back with hungry eyes. “I want to know you, Sugu. All of you.”

“So do I, Princess. Give it time.” He was right, no wonder he did want to wait a bit unlike you, a spouting mess of feelings. You nod, and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, one that makes your nipples tighten against your bra, makes your thighs rub together. “Is my Princess so insatiable?”

He pulls a blanket over you both then, raising the arm rest, and you tremble as he looks around, then smirking down at you with a seductive glint in his chocolate eyes. You bite your lower lip, and then his hand slides up your thigh…

“Suguru…” You whisper his name, and he raises a brow.

“Yes, Princess?”

“What-”

“Shh. Gonna get your mind off things.” His hand slides under the blanket up your thigh, then he cups you under your dress.

You gasp.

Chapter 9

Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56577688/chapters/147289141

[gnomewithalaptop]

Batfam Time Travel Fic Recs

Because @clarenceislazy requested it on my last fic rec compilation, here's a list of my favorite DCU time travel fics! They're all pretty Batfam-centric, but eh niche is niche what can you do

Damian fics:

A Good Place by LemonadeGarden - Damian gets sent back in time to a Batman who's never had a Robin. Very sweet, very fun.

The Rule Stands by Engineerd - After Dick's death, Damian has to deal with a time-displaced ten-year-old Dick Grayson. Love a good Dick and Damian bonding moment, PLUS this gets a happy ending <3

to stay in one place by Jezebunny - Injustice!Universe Nightwing!Damian time-travels/dimension-jumps to a timeline where Dick Grayson is still alive and his counterpart is still Robin. Ugh this is so angsty -- I have an unreasonable amount of love for Injustice Damian

looking for the shapes in the silence by popsunner - In a world where Dick died on the job, Damian falls through a hole in reality where Dick is still alive and finds that some things don't fit the way they used to. SUCH an amazing representation of complex grief -- literally every time I read it, I cry

Steph fics:

time slip by almondrose - A mistake in time leads to six Robins meeting. Honestly, this one is kinda cracky, and only barely qualifies as Steph-centric, but I still like it a lot

and we'll never be the same by almondrose - Steph and Tim go on a road trip to figure out the post-universal-reboot anomalies. This is more of a post timey-wimey-bullshit fic than a real time travel fic, BUT I think it's real cute regardless

Tim fics:

Tractors by lieu42 - Ooh this one is honestly so so fun! In a reimagined universe where DC's heroes operate out of the UK, Red Robin Tim finds himself right back in the year before everything went to hell. He has a duty to get back to his correct timeline so he can find Bruce, but with Bart and Kon still alive, there's a part of him that doesn't want to leave. Literally SO well written and trippy as hell -- this fic deals a lot with addiction, drug use, and grief, so definitely go into it forewarned. TimKon

not for very much longer by CreamOfTomatoSoup - ugh what CAN'T I say about this fic, apart from the fact that it's one of my favorite time loop fics of all time. Post Cult of Dionysus Bernard Dowd finds himself reliving the worst day of his life -- the day Darla got shot. Featuring identity porn, Steph as Robin, Original-Personality!Bernard, the grief of a childhood you can never return to, and the weirdness of having to interact with your significant other when he's currently a sixteen year old who doesn't know he likes dudes. Don't look at the incomplete warning -- it's not abandoned, just a wip, and I legitimately cannot recommend this fic enough. This fic made me read War Games. This fic made me a Darla Aquista stan. This fic made me ship timbern. Please read this fic.

Jason fics:

The View From Jade by lowflyingfruit - Jason Todd accidentally travels back to before Bruce took Dick in. I feel like this is on every time travel rec list, but what can I say: I'm a basic bitch

Two Dead Birds by InsaneTrollLogic - Jason Todd wakes up in the middle of his Mob Boss Era and immediately decides to rewrite his own history. This is very funky fresh of him, just in my personal opinion.

Dick fics:

So It Goes by 60sec400 - Bruce from Dick's Robin era receives a troubling call from Nightwing. Be warned -- this fic is angsty as hell. Implied major character death. Don't look at the incomplete warning -- it's a lie (the author has specified they intended it to work as a oneshot)

In This Or Any Other Universe by wildsofmarch - Dick-as-Batman ends up in Battinson-era Gotham. Again, I think this counts more towards the Dimension Travel pile than the strict Time Travel variety, but I'm still putting it here because I enjoy the hell out of it

a million dreams by CaptainOzone - In the seconds between the trapeze line snapping and their bodies hitting the ground, John and Mary Grayson find themselves transported twenty years into the future. SO GOOD I honestly can't stand it.

If you think I missed a fic you love (or if you've written any yourself and want to self-plug), feel free to drop a link in the reblogs! Especially if you know of any that center around Steph, Cass, or Duke -- istg I've scrolled through fifteen pages of the AO3 Time Travel tag, and I've found like maybe two fics that center around any of them. It's honestly a little ridiculous

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟐

summary : Jake cannot stop thinking about him. Jake cannot stop thinking about the first time he saw him. Jake cannot stop hating himself for what he is doing.

pairing : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

word count : 2.5k

contains : allusions to sex, emotional distress, religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts and yeah, basically the same warnings from part 1 haha.

a/n : Gif by @tay-swifts. Okay so rn for me it's 2:45 am so please ignore any incoherence or mistakes or if it's not as good as part 1. I hope yall don't hate me for not posting in so long, this is my attempt to go back into writing :)

“Seventy-nine. Down. Eighty. Down. Eighty-one. Down-” Maverick’s voice resonated inside the squad’s ear canal as he counted the number of push-ups they had done so far. This time they only had to do 100, but the heat and tiredness from all those previous hours spent in the air made the seemingly easy exercise a hellish torture. The concrete floor splattered with sweat drops falling from their foreheads was burning hot and their hands were begging to cease contact with the ground. All those physical stimuli did not possess enough power to distract Hangman from the million thoughts that flooded his mind ; the characteristic dullness of the exercise had sent him into a tortuous crisis full of some memories he didn’t want to relive and some others he wanted to relive so desperately that the realization that it was in fact impossible hurt him more than any wound acquired in the battlefield. 

After pushing his body back up from push-up number 92, he closed his eyes for a second and that was enough for a film-like reminiscence to start playing inside his head.

Speed. 100. 110. 120. 150. The tight grip to the steering wheel. Quick shallow breaths. Accelerated palpitations. Those were just some of the symptoms that showed his unnerved emotional state. Taking a right exit, he found himself entering the mysterious city of L.A ; coming from a Texan town, Los Angeles seemed like the capital of the unruly. Don't get him wrong, he has always been a menace himself, but big cities had always made him feel strangely small. 

He had no clue where he was going, but that's the thing about spontaneously bolting from base at 11 pm on a Friday. Hangman had no explicit motives to feel trapped within his routine; in fact, he thrived under strict organization (one of the many reasons why he decided to join the army), so what the hell was he doing? That was a question that was going to be left unanswered for now, so the next best thing was to find a distraction from the everlasting anger flooding his system.

He quickly realized that he had driven to a neighborhood full of pubs and bars decorated in colorful lights and full of people queuing to get in and have a drink or two, perhaps dance or make out too. His eyes also took in the many flags that hung from all of the buildings of the street; he recognized the gay flag but the rest, he could not tell what they represented. While staring at a pink, purple and blue one, he got blinded by a very powerful blue light, which made him stop abruptly. After it had dimmed down, he turned his head to identify where the light was coming from.

“Mon Ange” he mumbled to himself. His tired gaze revitalized at the hypnotic sight. If he had to be completely honest, he knew the reason why he fled the scene earlier that night. The truth was that he felt stuck, unable to move forward in life; something was missing but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was and the enigma was driving the pilot crazy. He was 35 and having an identity crisis, how lame was that? Looking at the people waiting to enter ‘Mon Ange’, he noticed that everyone was dressing so eccentrically, smiling so brightly and chatting so loudly; he was obviously not part of their community but, could a night in this place so out of character for him relax his mind enough to see things in a different light? He would get in, order a drink and head out, that’s it. Spending time in a place that was filled with strangers who did not have any type of expectations or preconceived ideas of him sounded nice enough to make the move.

The odor of alcohol and sweat flooded Jake’s nostrils as soon as he stepped in the club. The wide circle-shaped  room was packed to the brim but there was an upper floor with less people. The songs playing were not his style so he could not recognize the artists ; after scanning the place, he found the bartender. He got served pretty quickly and he could tell that his face card had made that happen. He did not find it in himself to order a fancy drink, so he settled for a beer. 

Looking for the bathroom, he stumbled with a semi-open door. Assuming it to be the toilet's entrance, he stepped into the dark room. He instinctively patted the wall in search of the switch, but there was not one to be found. Moans and other sounds Jake was no stranger to found their way to his ears, making him jump back and leave the room. Back in the hall, he was breathing unevenly, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“How ya doin’, handsome? Too crowded for a pretty thing like you?” A decently buff (but not bigger than him), hairy man was leaning “seductively” towards him as he spoke. Jake felt pure disgust and indignation pooling in the lower part of his stomach ; he could see how his presence in a place with such characteristics could lead up to certain conclusions but, approaching him like that was so out of line. The stranger’s gaze made him feel like a piece of meat and he was momentarily struck with the thought of whether he had ever made a girl feel similarly.

“Fuck off, asshole. Fuck around and find out.” Jake pushed him away so he could escape the situation he found himself in. His harsh frown warned the other man to stay away unless he wanted to leave the place with a black eye. After making it out of those suffocating halls, he decided to leave ; this whole idea had been pure foolery motivated by how lost he was feeling in life.  

Searching frantically for the exit door, his eyes landed on a couple shamelessly flirting and exchanging caresses of all kinds. The sparks in their eyes seemed genuine and that made the pilot sigh in a longing manner. Jake shook his head in order to try to slow down the speeding and confusing thoughts running though his mind. Suddenly, an entrancing voice started directing its words at him. He had been so focused on the couple by the bar that he didn’t process what the handsome- handsome?- stranger was trying to tell him. It couldn’t be anything good, based on his concerned facial expressions that Jake could barely make up because of the lighting of the room.

“Sorry, what?” he mumbled while finally setting his confused and dissociated gaze on the other man.

“I’m (Y/N), I saw you walking down the hallway back there and you seemed…” he hesitated, trying to find the best adjective to describe it. “distressed. Just wanted to make sure that you were ok. You’re not from around here, are you? And if I’m correct, you’re by yourself. This place can be overwhelming when you come for the first time”

Jake could feel the way his eyes widened at the words of the man standing in front of him. (Y/N)’s smile invited him to open up, to share the deepest and darkest parts of himself; but the pilot was no fool and quickly activated his protective shields again. He began to excuse himself after clearing his throat, lowering his voice an octave unconsciously “Thank man but I just entered because I had a problem with my car and it was the only place open at this time and I need to go back to my…”

“Calm down hahaha, I am not the police, don’t have to justify yourself. As to the car thing, the manager that runs this place knows a thing or two about cars. Is the dark green one yours?” Jake nodded, dumbstruck by the casual nature of this encounter “Fabio will help you for sure. If you want I can go look for him and you’ll be on your way in no time” Another grin took possession of the younger man’s lips.

Jake’s cheeks began to change colors into a pretty obvious red. He had created a lie that he could not follow with; how was he supposed to get out of that very uncomfortable moment? Fuck, fuck, fuck “I, eh…” It was not very often that Seresin ran out of things to say; his squad wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they were witnesses to this pathetic scene.

“Look I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here but it’s okay, alright? We don’t know each other so I cannot snitch to anyone about you being here; not that I would if we did know each other. Here” he looked in his black bag and took out a water bottle “I sneak these all the time, they’re expensive as fuck in here” a smirk accompanied the confession, giving Jake the sensation of being his partner in crime.

He took the drink and chugged it down in an instant “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me tonight, really appreciate it. I don’t think I’ll come round here any time soon but I owe you big-time”

“How about you tell me your name?” a playful but still innocent gaze stole Jake’s breath away. Fuck, how rude had he been? He hadn’t introduced himself back in the club and this person had gotten out of their way to help him. His southern heart shrinked at such an impolite act; this was definitely not meemaw approved but at the end of the day, none of this whole night was.

“Excuse me, Jake Seresin”

“Nice to meet you, Jake Seresin” he chuckled. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways, isn’t it? And don’t worry, you don’t actually owe me anything.”

“There must be something I can do. Where I’m from, you show your gratitude to the people who’ve helped you yknow”

“Here” as if it were the most natural thing, M/N took the blonde’s hand and wrote down his number. “If you’re ever in trouble again or you just want to chat, here’s my number. And don’t worry, no second intentions or anything included, just think you’re cool and could use a friend round here” he clarified after taking a look at Jake’s conflicted face. Despite the alarm in his head stating very loudly that he had to get out of there as soon as possible, he let the other man take his hand in his for a second too long. Jake was no shy person but the questionable tension in that moment crossed a very clear line that had been established many years ago and was irremovable now. Breaking their little bubble, Jake nervously searched for his car keys as he thanked M/N and wished him a great night.

While driving away, the rear-view mirror captured M/N’s image, framing his still figure in the small reflecting surface for Jake to stare at, making him ignore the clearly red light and almost crash with a grey truck whose driver shouted every single insult under the sun at him. But the lieutenant could not care any less, his worries laid elsewhere. What the fuck had happened tonight? He found himself desperately trying to make some sense of his decision-making process-

“HANGMAN” 

Startled at the mention of his name in such a shrill manner, Jake regained control of his body and mind which had traveled to the past for quite a while, for he could not recall when they had stopped training and had gotten inside, taking turns to shower in the base’s facilities. “The day you stop annoying me, Rooster, hell will freeze over” he grumpily murmured, but with no real meanness behind his words.

“You’ve been acting very strangely, Hangman, and not in your usual weird way” Bradley narrowed his eyes as if it would allow him to access Jake's deepest thoughts that were apparently holding him hostage. After Jake had rolled his eyes and dropped some sarcastic comments about his “stupid ass moustache”, he decided he would let it slide, for now. “Anyway, you’re comin’ tonight, aren’t you?”

“Nah, gotta do some paperwork and prepare for tomorrow’s session” he discarded the offer quickly.

“C’mon don’t be such a pussy, man” another of his coworkers commented from nearby.

The way he slammed the locker’s door provoked a loud bang that made everyone turn their heads to see what was going on in that part of the locker room “Who the fuck has said that shit? I ain’t gonna let you live, motherfucker” and just like a bull ready to kill, only seeing red, he started to search for the idiot who had decided to speak and make a comment he definitely did not need to hear at the moment “don't hide now, who.was.it?”

“Hey Jake, calm down man, it was just a joke, what the hell? “Rooster questioned, absolutely puzzled at his mate’s reaction; it was just common locker room jargon, they often teased each other or said something dumb about their dicks or something like that, and Jake would often reply with a laugh or an equally offensive response so, something was definitely wrong with the normally nonchalant Hangman.

Shrugging off the hand Roosted had placed on his shoulder to ground him, Jake picked his bag and stormed off huffing and cursing under his breath. After having reached his car, his forehead was pressed against the steering wheel and his eyes were shut closed; breath for 3 seconds, hold it in for 4 seconds and exhale for 7 seconds. This was a technique he learnt when he was young to repress any anxiety or panic attack that tried to break the controlled facade he showed his family, the church, his superiors and his friends. A frustrated groan escaped Jake’s sealed lips, a clear sign of all that pent up frustration.

His phone buzzing caught his attention and decided to take a look. The three messages appearing in the lock screen where all from the only person who could make him feel okay again but also, this person was the one who had triggered this chaos  he had so carefully repressed in order to create the perfect persona; a masculine, chill guy who walked through life as if he had everything under control, when in reality he was a 36 year old full of pain and doubts that the church, his family and the army had made sure to reinforce. 

Texts from M/N:

M/N : hey, you forgot your sweatshirt at my place

M/N : are you going to Mon Ange next saturday? I can hand it to you then. Yknow, that day’s theme is cowboys and I’d kill to see you even with just a fake cowboy hat 

M/N: you can teach me how the Two Step thing works ;) no pressure tho, as always <3

Jake S. : wouldn’t miss it for the world, get your boots ready.

This was like being stuck in a car with no brakes and Jake had decided to try and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.

[savagewildnerness]

Immortal, bloodthirsty creatures that feed on humans - they have sharp fangs and a hatred for sunlight and garlic.

Vampires might not be the hero you typically root for, but they have transfixed us for centuries.

The first short story about the monster written in the English language was John Polidori's The Vampyre in 1819.

More followed, with Bram Stoker's Dracula in 1897 inspiring F.W. Murnau's silent film Nosferatu in 1922. This is now being remade by Robert Eggers and is set to be released in the UK in 2025, starring Bill Skarsgård, Lily-Rose Depp and Nicholas Hoult.

But what's driving our hunger for vampire stories?

For writer and actor Mark Gatiss, his fascination with vampires started early. The co-writer of BBC drama series Sherlock and Dracula has been a "horror obsessive" for as long as he can remember.

Gatiss went on from a childhood love of scary stories to star as Dracula in an audio production, made a documentary on the monster as well as a 2020 BBC series, which sees the Count (played by Claes Bang) venture to London.

He says the opportunity to bring Stoker's iconic vampire to life felt "too good to be true".

"Like Sherlock Holmes, it's an imperishable myth and, really, if anyone gives you the chance to have a go at it - you have to do it," he explains.

Gatiss explains an image of Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes "silhouetted against a doorway when he comes back from the dead with his collar up" helped spark the 2020 Dracula series with Claes Bang

Rolin Jones is an executive producer and a writer on the TV adaptation of Interview with the Vampire, based on Anne Rice's collection of novels.

The series, available on BBC iPlayer, follows vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac (played by Jacob Anderson) who shares the story of his life and relationship with Lestat de Lioncourt (played by Sam Reid) with a journalist.

He explains stories about the vampires "come back over and over again" because they "get in your bones and haunt you," with many raising questions of immortality, death and love.

The modern popularity of the figures can be seen on social media with #vampire having 2.7 million posts on TikTok.

Jones adds that each day he will see more people tattooing the characters' faces on their body, explaining "this is a rabid fan base".

"They're really tense and complex characters", Jones says

'Scared me to death'

While the characteristics of fictional vampires have changed throughout history - some burn to a crisp in the sunlight, others have famously sparkly skin - they have one thing in common: immortality.

Dr Sam George - an associate professor at the University of Hertfordshire who taught students about vampires in fiction - explains that part of the reason the monster endures is because they "get us to think about the big questions that concern us, ideas about ageing" as well as "what happens beyond the grave".

She adds that "the vampire's always been linked very strongly with disease, with contagion," adding that if we look back in history we can see that our interest in the immortal monster seems to pique around times of mass disease.

"When the first fictional vampire appeared in 1819, there was a strong link with tuberculosis," she says.

"Nosferatu is made to actually look like plague rats," Dr George explains

She adds that F.W. Murnau's silent film Nosferatu in 1922, centring on a character famous for the plagued rats he brought in his wake, came shortly after the Spanish influenza pandemic.

The academic adds that this is "really important to why vampires are so popular and on trend now, when you think of Nosferatu and its link to the plague, post Covid we're very interested in the vampire as contagion."

Executive producer Jones adds that a key point of interest for him lies in working out why vampires want to keep living. "You take mortality out of any drama, and it's quite interesting," he says.

Jones adds that Ms Rice herself wrote the novel after losing her daughter and that this sense of "grief and mourning" is "exceptionally articulated" in the book.

'They seduce you'

"There's this allure to them," Jones says of vampires - like Assad Zaman, who plays the vampire Armand and Jacob Anderson, who plays Louis de Pointe du Lac

While vampires may let us play out our fears about mortality and death, Jones adds that there is something else that draws us to the fanged figures.

"They're the sexiest, the most sensual of monsters," he says. "They seduce you."

Jones adds that when he first picked up the novel Interview with the Vampire, "it seemed to me what I was reading was this really repressed and really messy love story."

Dr George agrees, explaining "vampires have gotten younger and better looking over the years" and notes the difference between Nosferatu and Twilight's Edward Cullen (played by Robert Pattinson).

The academic adds there has been "a shift" in the way people read vampire fiction, explaining there has been a lot of interest in the topic of sexuality and vampires, like the "queer family" presented in Ms Rice's novel. 

The combination of love and immortality, Dr George says, is also seen in Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 film Bram Stoker's Dracula, which ran with the tagline "love never dies".

For Dr George, the "sense that the vampire can address a number of questions all at once," from death to love is the reason it stays with us today.

This article made me curious (I haven't put combination of some/all as an option as 100% would vote for it, as of course it isn't just one thing... so I ask the *most* significant thing for you)...

Edit to add that this is very difficult even for me to answer and I created the poll. Now, I'd say existential questions would be my top answer, but when I first read the books, it was the exploration of the outsider/difference I think for me, so perhaps that's the truest answer?

[unluckilyimnot]

Heyy! So I’m struggling with an ed at the moment and I read your headcanons where the tr boys find out reader has an ed but I was wondering if u could do that for the Bonten trio? Tyyy

s/o who has ed

Characters : Ran, Rindou, Sanzu (all Bonten)

Type : ansgt, hurt to comfort

Words count : 0.5

m.list

It’s fine, I can write about it, it’s just the same as an old one I did : I speak as a girl who experienced it in a certain way, so I’ll do my best and I don’t mean any hurt it can cause. If you’re struggling with ed we can talk about it if you feel like it, but at least don’t hesitate to talk about it. Only around people you’re safe please, I don’t want you to go through the same things as I did. You can get through it even if it’s hard (I did but I’m not cured at all)

I love you, take care of yourself and people around you, please

Ran notices how you never touch the left over, even if he put it there for you to eat. He tried multiple times, just to be sure, but every time you already ate, or you're not hungry, or not enough so you’ll just eat some fruit. He knows too well what’s going on, yet he doesn’t know how to handle it. He can’t force you to see someone, but it hurts him acknowledging all your tricks, the way you still smile in front of your food when he hears you throwing up right after.

“Why aren’t you eating ?” It’s past midnight, you’re already reading tug in your shared bed and Ran just sat beside you. You can’t process it at first, it makes you feel sick. “It’s not a crime, I imagine what it is, but I want to understand you. And help if I can. Explain it all to me. Please.”

For a few seconds you tried to doubt that you deserve a man like him, before recalling he can kill for money. He may not be the best man out there, but he is for you. He’s ready to do better and understand you without getting mad. At the thought you shed a tear, and another and before you realize it you can’t articulate a proper sentence beside telling him that you’re sorry. Deeply sorry to be like this.

“It’s not your fault, don’t be sorry. I’m here for you.”

Rindou feels that you’re smaller than you used to be, so much smaller. It’s like he hasn’t held you in a million years when it’s only been two weeks since he left. He grabbed you a little more, here and there, but you can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Let me go to Rindou..”

“You’re so small, why ? Have you eaten enough when I was gone ?” panicked rush through his veins when he sees your eyes meeting the floor, guilt creeping into both of you. He knew it, he always did. He simply thought you were doing better since he was there and after all those years struggling together. It was that simple for you to stop it and start it all again. He’s helpless and, oh so sorry but not in a way when he feels like giving up. In a way that if he had to do it all again, from the beginning for you to get better, he will.

Sanzu doesn’t eat much himself, which is not helping with his addiction but he wants you to be healthy. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting your body more than you already have to do. So when he finally realizes all your tricks to make him believe that you're eating normally despite your showing bones he’s more sad than mad. He knows he’s nobody to talk to, he’s destroying himself little by little too, but thinking he can lose you that way made him cry on your knees. You don’t even know what to do, you’re simply sorry but without being able to promise him you’ll stop.

“Don’t leave me” he cried out, not ready to lose someone else.

“I’ll try,” you replied.

In the silence, between his cries, there’s a secret promise that both of you will try to get each other out of their way, even if they can’t even help themselves.

Fist post in years /lit a bir short excuse me but i have to get used to it again

Hope you like it ♡

[yeoja-dream]

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger Word Count: 3,100

“You want to WHAT?” You asked him, eyes wide, 

“Lower your voice! Someone next to you is gonna hear you yelling like that and call the bouncer.” He hissed. 

“Well I’m thinking that might be the right idea considering what the hell you just proposed to me.” you hissed back. 

“It’s not that crazy!” He insisted. “I step out of line, you blast me with radiant damage as hard as you can and if you don’t outright kill me, you’ll take the wind out of my sails plenty long enough to get far away from me.” 

You regarded him for a moment. “You JUST got through saying you had SIX mates. I know having two or three is rare, but you expect me to believe that you might have a SEVENTH mate and it might be me? We were vibing just now but I don’t know if we were vibing that hard.” 

“I also told you it's the same with each of my mates, something tells me I need to be somewhere, and by a crazy coincidence, we meet.” He adds. “I will know right away!” 

“Ugh!” You sighed, exasperated, resting your head in your hands. “You know 3 hours ago I walked into this club single, happy, looking to get drunk and have an easy fuck to forget a shitty day, and I’m walking out having saved a woman from a demon rapist, pissed off or turned on that demon rapist, and now I have a marriage proposal from the aether.”

“I can help with some of those issues, I think? You lost me there for a second I’m not going to lie to you.” 

You didn’t reply. 

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you. We had a great conversation over a strange and scary happenstance, and if you would rather go our separate ways as strangers having never learned the truth, then I respect that choice. Or the cheap fuck, if that option is still on the table.” 

You smacked him for the later remark. You sat, contemplative, and as if sensing you needed space, Jungkook excused himself for a cigarette, leaving you alone with your watered-down whiskey and your thoughts. 

I mean what are the chances right? He takes a little nibble, he spits it out, I take him back to mine, and we test out that vampiric stamina. It’s basically impossible that 1 person has 7 soul mates! You reasoned. On the other hand the one in a million, no billion, no TRILLION chances that you are this guy’s 7th sister wife what does that mean? Do I join his commune? They probably have a commune. Am I bonded to his other wives? Are they also vampires? I don’t think I have enough blood to go around. You rub your temples, frustration rising higher and higher in your body. I could also not choose. You reminded yourself. I could go home, forget this man, forget this night, and have everything go back to normal. 

Interrupting your thought process, David approached you. “You look mighty stressed.” 

“Yes!” You just about yelled at him. “Sorry, yes.” You said in a calmer tone. 

“Bar’s chill for the minute, what's up?”

You obviously couldn’t tell him the truth, but what if you were vague? Vague was okay. “I was confronted with a life-altering choice, and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well, how do you usually make choices?” He asked, leaning back on the bar and crossing his arms. 

“I don’t. I find that fate has a way of making decisions for me.” 

“Well…” He shrugged, digging in his apron pocket. He slid forward a shiny, silver coin on the table. “You can have fate choose for you again.” 

You looked at him, then the coin. It’s my best bet. You thought to yourself, sliding the coin off the bar and into your hand, feeling the weight of it. May this lead me to the path of my destiny you willed into the coin before giving it a toss. 

The coin landed, and you understood what it was you had to do. 

~~~~

You met Jungkook on the street, just as he put a cigarette out on the cold pavement. 

“Hello,” he regarded you warmly. 

“I’ve decided.” You tell him. “Strings of fate and all that horse shite. I will blast the shit out of you if you take more than I tell you.” 

“You have my honor and my word.” He replied, punctuated with a dramatic bow. 

“Remember, blasting! And not the fun kind!” You warned him again, finger pointed sternly. 

“I would be disappointed in you if you gave me anything less.” 

“Anywhere really. I mean somewhere a little private. Like I said I just need a sip and I will know.” 

“Is my house okay? I mean you said you’d fuck me so I’d figure it was alright.” You asked, feeling shy suddenly. 

“Oh yeah, that’s fine!” Jungkook said. “I mean I was joking about the fuck thing I mean I just said it because you said it!”

You looked at him with a strange expression. 

“Not that I wouldn’t! You are extremely attractive! If you wanted to I would definitely be down don’t get me wrong I just-” He cut himself off. “I am making this so much worse for myself, aren’t I?”

“Very much so.” You said as you opened your umbrella and stepped out from under the awning. “Shut up and let’s go before I change my mind. The Uber will be here in a minute.” 

~~~~~

You lived in a one-bedroom place in a modest part of town, inside an apartment block that never seemed to be quiet, with the exception of this moment. Jungkook sat politely at your small kitchen table, you stood and leaned against a kitchen counter, the silence hanging between the two of you only interrupted by the sound of the rain hammering at the window, and the kettle steadily coming to a boil. You regarded him again for a moment, before turning to your cabinets and pulling out two mismatched mugs. 

“The tea will be done in a minute.” You said, ripping open the tea bags, setting one in each cup. A few more minutes of silence passed before Jungkook stood suddenly.

“I’ve never done this before,” He blurted. 

You take a moment to process what it is he could mean by that. He’s mated so he’s certainly not a virgin, seems to be over a hundred so it’s not his first time drinking blood you thought, before your mind wanders further. I did not just invite this man into my home to kill me. Tell me I did not invite this man into my home to murder me. God DAMN it, I fell for his stupid necklace and that incubus is probably waiting for his signal nearby.

“I suggest you explain yourself quickly and clearly, because it is sounding to me like what you’ve never done is have your ass blasted as hard as I am about to.” You said, turning around slowly, eyes locked on him. No funny business dude.

“I wasn’t completely truthful with you before. A lie by omission I guess which doesn’t trip up the necklace but I am going to stop rambling because you seem really justifiably mad.” He said putting his hands up. You took a step closer, energy beginning to crackle at your palms. 

“Every single time I met my mates, I was called to meet them by happenstance. That is true. But every single time they knew, or guessed we might be mates before I did. So I have never personally tested the whole “someone else’s blood or energy should be poison to me” theory.” 

“So you have no idea if this is even going to work!?” You yelled at him, palms crackling further. “So I’ve just invited you into my home so you can what, make a snack out of me?”  

“I know it works!” Jungkook countered, taking a step back as if almost cowering. 

“How?!” You demanded, lowering your magic a bit. You weren’t going to kill him, not yet anyway. 

“30 years ago!” Jungkook blurted nervously. “One of my hyungs, we got into a huge fight and he ran away for a few months. He subsists on energy, and when he tried to take from people that he wasn’t mated to, it poisoned him. Badley. He was starving and as close to death when we finally found him.” 

You look at his necklace and wait. No glow. So he was telling the truth. You lowered your guard completely. 

“Jesus Christ dude you can’t phrase it that way! I thought you were going to say “I’ve never done this before, never murdered!” and then jumped me with that incubus freak.” 

“No, you are right about that and I am really sorry.” He took a step back toward you, sitting back at the table. 

“If you know it works,” You began, pouring the now boiling water into each prepared mug. “You didn’t have to tell me you’d never tried it personally.” You said, placing each up on the table and joining him at the opposite seat. “It has no bearing on the outcome for you, so why did you feel the need to tell me?”

“Ah well,” he began, stirring a scoop of sugar into his tea idly. “I’m a stranger, asking you to make a big leap of faith that sure, benefits you, but also benefits me. I couldn’t sit right with knowing you didn’t have every piece of information I could offer you.”

“I… appreciate that.” You remarked, dumping 3 ice cubes into your tea. “I don’t like to wait for it to cool,” you admitted, somewhat sheepishly. 

“No, I don’t get the impression you do like to wait for much,” Jungkook replied, offering his cup to cheers with yours. You clink mugs and drink your tea in comfortable silence.  

~~~~~

“So how is this done usually?” You asked him, standing face to face in your combined living room and bedroom area. 

“Truthfully?” He asked you.

“Truthfully.” You confirmed. 

“My kind typically have been the stalk you, grab you and lure you into a dark alleyway and drain you of all your blood or charm you with magic and charisma and lure you to a place where we do the same thing, sort of people.” 

“I am confirming that that is not what we are trying to accomplish?” You half-jokingly asked. 

“That is not what we are trying to accomplish.” He confirmed. “I want you to be comfortable. However, wherever would be the most comfortable for you is where I want to do it.” 

“Um, okay.” You looked around. “I guess for me that would be my bed, that isn’t weird right?” 

“Not at all,” He confirmed, allowing you to lead the way. 

“But-” You stopped halfway before getting onto your bed. “It’s just my duvet is white, maybe I should put down a towel? In case things get messy.” 

He scoffed at that. “I am not such a pedestrian, I reckon I have been drinking blood since you were born.” 

“Are you sure about that?” You looked him up and down. Vampires didn’t age, sure, but surely he couldn’t be THAT much older than you, right? 

“If I get so much as a drop on your duvet, I will replace it with any duvet of your choice.” He said, placing his hand on his heart. 

“It doesn’t mean that much when you place your hand over an undead heart.” You said knocking his hand off his own chest. “But you’re not glowing, so I will take your word for it.” You said, sitting down. “Come, sit.” You invited him with a pat on the bed. He obliged. 

“Hey,” You began, after letting a few beats of silence pass. “Do you think we could just lay side by side for a few minutes?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He said, following your lead and sliding himself up the bed, laying comfortably on one side, you on the other. 

A long silence hung in the air. “I fuck strangers and this is somehow the most intimate I’ve been with one ever.” You remarked sarcastically. Jungkook chuckled lightly in response, 

“Me too.” 

More silence hung, heavy in the room. You laid back, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. He too laid, unmoving, this is all on your terms he was communicating. You shut your eyes. 

“What does it feel like?” You whisper. 

“The bite, or the connection?” 

“Both” 

“The bite hurts for a second, but it goes away pretty fast. Vampire venom has powerful numbing properties. Some people even feel peace or euphoria, it's supposed to keep you from running from us once we have you.” He paused before continuing. “The connection is, overwhelming, in a word. Everything in your body turns up to 11, you become very magically charged, emotionally charged, physically charged and, uh, sexually…” He cleared his throat. “Charged.” He finished. 

You sat in silence, digesting that information. You roll over on your side, facing him, he mirrors you. 

You spent a few more minutes, studying his face in earnest. At this proximity, there was a boyishness quality you didn’t notice from far away. It was cute, even, bunny-like, and as you stared at him, you searched your mind, your heart, your soul, desperately looking for recognition, the easy way out, one last chance to avoid the leap of faith. 

“What if I am mated to you?” You whisper

“We will figure it out.”

“How?”  

“Do you trust me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Before we begin, I told you before you might lose some of your sense once we begin. Where is a line too far? Where should I stop you? Where should I stop me?” 

“The troubled, sarcastic, sad part of me knows I can’t trust anyone.” You said, raising your hand to cup his cheek. “But something deep inside of me is telling me that you are truly good people. And for once, I am not going to push this one away.” You whispered, voice wavering. “Just, don’t hurt me, okay?”

He didn’t reply, but he held your gaze. 

“Jungkook?” You ask softly. 

“Hm?” 

“Would you kiss me please?” 

He then scooted closer to you and mirroring the motion you did before, he raised a hand, cupped your face gently, and placed a single, lingering kiss on your lips. He pulled away slightly, but a centimeter, I’m ready, but only when you are, he communicated to you. You closed the gap this time, I’m ready.

The kiss started off slow, chaste, even as two bodies, two energies tentatively explored the other in the more intimate environment. Jungkook was a good kisser, you decided, firm, but not too pushy. He allowed you to set the pace, the intensity, but what you gave he took readily. You parted your lips to him, and he took them greedily, using his free hand to hook around your back and drag you across the bed and completely flush with his body. You found your arm folded into his chest, the building intensity causing you to grip the fabric. You kissed greedily now, hungrily, like lovers long since reunited. It felt good, it felt right, you also decided. Kissing him was like the gentle respect and deep intimacy shared between two people who had loved each other for a long, long time. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt it, and you wanted more. 

Your arms were at a disadvantage, pinned against his muscular chest, but you used the position to pull yourself closer and closer still. You needed more of him. You wanted more of him. 

“Jungkook…” you whispered against his lips, a plea. 

“I know, God I want you too.” He whispered back his arm like an iron bar across your lower back holding you in place. “But we have to do this first, sex makes everything so messy and confusing.” He broke away from your lips, kissing up your jaw bone stopping at your ear. “I’m gonna do it now, okay?” He whispered. 

“Okay.” You confirmed. You found yourself then, in a swift move on your back with him straddled across your waist. From this angle, his baggy pants tented visibly over his crotch, the sight of which alone wound your core up so tight, you wondered if you’d cum immediately when he slips it in. He didn’t give you long to appreciate the view, as he leaned over you, face to face, and continued to kiss you. Your tongues didn’t battle but danced in harmony, and as you felt your hips rise to grind against the hardness so close to where you needed it, he broke away from your lips again, panting, he again peppered kisses up your jawline, but then down your neck this time gently sucking and licking on his way down, leaving you breathless. He settled on the spot but gave the skin special attention, the sensation of which had you sighing and running your fingers through his hair. 

When he was finally satisfied, he wasted no further time and sank his teeth in, the sensation of which made you yelp in pain. He didn’t lie about the pain. After a brief pause, you felt the sensation of him drinking you in. He swallowed once, came up for a breath, and in that moment, from head to toe, it was like you had both been struck by lightning. 

Overwhelming wasn’t the right word for it. Euphoric. Pure energy crackled and popped at your skin, literal sparks flying off at the points your skin connected. It was painful, you thought, but everything felt so amazing it faded into the background. Joy, pure joy radiated through your body. In fact, you can’t recall a time when you had ever felt this light-hearted and happy.

In the same moment, as euphoria washed over you, Jungkook’s demeanor changed and with a visceral, animalistic grunt, he dove back in sucking at your neck. The sensation was divine. 

“More, more” You found yourself begging again and again. He was like an immovable object in his current positioning, but you allowed yourself the luxury with your now-free hands to slip under his baggy shirt, relishing in the corded muscle of his back and biceps. 

The more he drank, the closer it seemed you got to the edge of something great. As something darker and harder to control overcame Jungkook, he didn’t notice when your enthusiastic pleas for more turned into incoherent babbling, and only when he had his fill, and the dark that consumed him receded, did he finally realize that you had fallen silent for quite some time. 

He pulled away from your neck and examined your body in horror. Limp, and unmistakably ashen. You looked like a corpse. 

“Y/N,” He said, panic in his voice, shaking your shoulder. “Y/N!” he said louder now, yelling and shaking you as violently as he dared. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

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

I told you guys one after the other! Like I said in the last post, I'm working on intertwined, that update might go up today or tomorrow, depending on what I'm feeling, I only promised this post! I also mentioned before that I will update the tags once I reveal which bts member is what/ what Y/N is but try to guess below! You might be right~

[angxlofvenus]

A Shoulder To Cry On Pt. 2

Requested By: @saturnsapothecary Genre: Hurt/comfort Ship: Side Characters x reader TW: Mentions of crying, physical touch, Distressing situations (not specific), hugging, mentions of kissing, sad Solomon, Word count: 805 words AN: Hi! This is the second installment in this, This one is sad just like the last one and has some depressing topis, please heed the TW and happy reading!!

Find Pt. 1 Here! (Demon Brothers edition!)

Diavolo

You can hear this man's heart shatter into a million tiny pieces

He just wanted to surprise you at the HoL but he never expected to see this!

Runs up to you and kneels in front of you, “What’s wrong, my dear?” 

He doesn’t have much experience with consoling people but everything comes to him so naturally as he gently lifts you from the ground and brings you to your feet before asking you to accompany him to the castle

Once you all arrive, He’ll send Barbatos to start you a bath and will try to make your stay as comfortable and luxurious as you let him.

Unlike the others he actually can do something about your problem, He is the prince, One day king, of the Devildom- He has a lot on his plate but you will always be his top priority no matter what.

Barbatos

He had come over with Dia to attend a meeting with Lucifer, While the two conversed he decided to pay a quick visit to you, Not knowing what he would discover,

A soft gasp resounded throughout the room as light steps, almost like a ghost grew nearer and nearer.

His presence would almost dance around you as his eyes took in your being, Looking for signs of wounds or anything else that the naked eye could find.

Very slowly, a gloved hand would take your face, No words were spoken as he looked into your eyes, His hand would curve around your arm and gently rise your body up before creating a portal to lead you to the HoL, Sending a quick text to Lucifer and Diavolo of you whereabouts

He’d lead you to a couch in a private sitting room before disappearing for a couple of minutes, coming back with tea and a large box of things, He’d set the tea and other assortments down on the coffee table.

He would settle himself beside you at a comfortable distance, Just in case, Before pulling things out of the box, Tissues, A blanket, etc 

He’d bundle you up and would start preparing the tea as he’d let you talk about the situation/anything you’d want to talk about

He isn’t allowed to fix tiny things with his powers, But he will always be there for you- no matter the outcome.

Simeon

Oh this sweet angel

He could probably feel your distress through the door

One of the only people to actually know what to do, He is an angel who not only is raising another angel but is also a very naturally nurturing person

He is by your side before you can even register that he’s there, His presence washes over you like the sun as he immediately frets over you in a soft tone

You get to your feet with his help, He leads you to the bed before tucking you in with a soft hand running over your forehead (He would also kiss your forehead if you’d like)

Sleep takes over your tired state as he whispers reassurances and praise to you, He is a warm soul and will help you in any way he can

Solomon

He was just returning a book he had borrowed when he saw you.

His entire body stiffens up as your own racks with sobs

“Mc..?” he says in a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear

You meet his eyes, Swirls of grey remorse float through his eyes as he tries to understand what he’s seeing

He lingers near the door as he watches you try to get yourself together, Unsure of what to do.

“I-How can I help?” Your eyes will meet his again as he searches for an answer.

Whatever you want at that moment, He’ll do. If you want to talk, He’s all ears, If you want comfort, His body will slowly unwind- muscles untensing, as your bodies melted together

He is in a world up against demons and angels alike, fighting over your attention daily. But if he can be there for you in these moments, Minds so close together, Him helping you, That would be enough.

Luke

“Mc!-” The boy would say cheerfully as he entered, Once he saw you though, Whole demeanor change.

A little gasp leaves him before he runs towards you, Immediately looking you over, “What have those demons done to you!?” 

Please reassure him that everything is okay, This boy is jumping to conclusions as soon as he sees your face

He will hug you tightly as tears well up in his eyes, What can he do to make it better? He just wants you happy- You don’t deserve this!

Will invite you to come and de-stress at the Purgatory hall by baking with him.

Will definitely be over protective of you for a couple weeks after that

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi

What about a fic where the reader and Pedro are working to together and one of them has an accident while doing a stunt

And that they were dating in secret and they go into panic mode when it happens

Bunch of fluff and angst

Accidents Happen - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: you insisted on doing your own stunts for the Kingsman movie, you get badly hurt.

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warning: doing stunts, weapons, knives, whips, head injury, mentions of blood.

Note: they’ll be on the set of “kingsman” cause I feel like agent whiskey does a lot of stunts lol (let’s pretend Pedro can use the lasso ;) Also love this idea thanks for requesting!!

Secretly dating Pedro Pascal wasn’t something that was easy to hide, he was the heartthrob of the internet and he was a very open book. His people pleasing tendencies had him opening up to everyone just to make them comfortable in his presence. It was fairly new, you’d only been together for just over 12 months, your first anniversary was spent at home over dinner and wine; watching your favourite movies, most of them being Disney or Nick Cage movies, cause let’s face it, he was a phenomenal actor.

Being an actor and working with your secret boyfriend was even harder. You were having to put up two acts, one in being your character Agent Brandy, working alongside other well known actors as a team of secret agents, playing the good guys, you’d read your script and to your surprise, Pedro’s character “Jack Whiskey” kills your character after she finds out that Jack was going to destroy the cure, there were a few stunts that production had warned and offered you may need a stunt double for. But you refused; you had done some stunts in other movies before, you knew you could handle a whip and lasso.

You and Pedro were in position, both in costume and in a room full of camera men and producers ready to watch you play the scene out, the scene in which had all the stunts.

“3,2,1, ACTION.”

You stare at Agent Whisky, brows furrowed and huffing, your hand lingering above your knife ready to fight after you learned of jacks betrayal. “How could you, Jack? Lives are at stake here, the world is at stake. It’s not too late for you to redeem yourself, just hand me the cure and we can work this out.”

He scoffs, accent heavy in his mock fury, “over my dead body, Brandy,” you grunt, “so be it.” Your hand is quick to reach for your knife, pressing the button as to extend the blade. He moves swiftly, quicker than you could react, the lasso in his hands within seconds, spinning it and catching your arms around your torso, the rope pulling tight making you drop the prop, pulling your legs together and you fall onto the mat on the floor. He leans over you, “should’ve minded your damn business, we could’ve been somethin special sugar.” He winks before picking up your knife and jams it into the floor next to you, you’re gasping and heaving as he walks out of the building.

“Cut! That was incredible, I want to reshoot the lasso scene, perhaps we can get Brandy tied up a little quicker, just to get more action into the scene.”

You’re untied from the lasso, Pedro offers you a hand in his costume, smile on his lips as you stand, wishing the warmth of his hands didn’t have to leave yours. You stand about 8 feet from him, in your defensive position, hand above knife ready for the scene to begin.

“Ready in, 3, 2, 1, ACTION.”

“How could you do this to us Jack, the world is at stake, millions of lives are at stake here.” You lower your hand away from the knife, going a little off script to make a more emotional scene, “please, just give me the vile and you can come back from this, we can get away from all of this agent nonsense.” You hold your hand out to him, a soft look in your eyes as you waited for him to surrender the cure that would save millions of lives. He scoffs, pulling his lasso out of his back pocket quickly, emotion quickly turned resentful, he swung the lasso quickly and your arms were bound by your torso. “Please jack, don’t do this.” He pulls the lasso tighter, encouraging you to shut up. “It’s a real shame you didn’t join me sugar, could’ve changed the world, you an me.” With a swift yank of his arm you fell, your body spinning off course from the mat you were meant to land on and your head hits the corner of a chair seat.

“Fuck!” You wail in agony, unable to hold the sore spot on your head.

“CUT. Get medical in here now, we’ve got a head injury.”

You feel lightheaded, your own cries of anguish are drowned out by the dozens of voices crowding you, unwrapping the lasso from your torso. Pedro kneels over you, his hands on either side of your face, his eyes full of tears with a fearful look on his face. “Fuck what have I done.” He brushes his hands over your head to get the hair out of your face, when he feels-something. He pulls his hand back to see it’s coated in slick warm blood, your blood. “She’s bleeding, her heads bleeding!” Pedro exclaims desperately, a man from the film crew tosses him a shirt, Pedro holds it to your head and sees how fast the white shirt is staining red. He can’t stop the tears from falling at how unresponsive you are.

“Move out of the way the paramedics are here!” Your producer exclaims. Pedro is hesitating to move, his body frozen in shock at what he’s done to you. The paramedics put a neck brace on you before picking you up onto the stretcher and wheeling you out to the ambulance.

“Pedro, for all our sakes and your own, go with her.”

He doesn’t waste another second following you, explaining to the paramedics, “she’s my fiancé.” He lies, they’re not, but he’s thinking he should after this, after this feeling of dread that he’s going to lose you, he’s never been so afraid in his life.

The wailing of the ambulance siren is drowned out by him being stuck in his head, guilt and self blame for changing the way he was meant to do the stunt on the script. How would you ever forgive him? He held your hand as it rests on your chest, the monitor connected to your finger reads a low, but steady heartbeat and low blood pressure.

He refused to leave the hospital, he sat on an old dinky green chair, the stuffing had started to fall out because the stitching was ripped. No matter how badly his joints ached he refused to move, the nurses bringing him water every so often as he’s dehydrating himself from having cried for hours on end. You were in surgery, they said that your head has actually split open, they weren’t sure how long it would take to operate or how long it would take for you to wake up, but he was feeling the guilt full force.

A doctor comes up to the nurse at reception and she gives Pedro a look. “Okay, thank you. I’ll pass it on.” She thanks the doctor quietly before standing from her desk and walking over to Pedro. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” He nods solemnly and stands, his legs wobbling from sitting for so long. His boots squeak on the hospital floors, he gets weird looks from other patients and nurses they pass as he’s still in costume.

“She’s stable, she had to have 50 stitches, she’ll be okay eventually but, it’s possible she may have short term memory loss, she may not-we just thought you should be aware of that possibility.”

Pedro frowns, “memory loss?” The nurse nods sympathetically, “it’s possible.” They come to a stop after what feels like an eternity. He stops outside of a room, the letters 31B on the door in bold letters. The nurse opens the door and Pedro’s heart stops beating in his chest when he sees you.

You’re connected to a few monitors, a drip is inserted into your arm. Your eyes are sunken and your skin is pale. Black half circles are dark underneath your eyes, you look so fragile, so unwell. “She lost a lot of blood. She’s due for another blood transfusion within the next two hours. You may take a seat if you’d like, I’ll bring you something from the canteen.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, sitting down in the leather chair that was slightly more comfortable than the one in the waiting room. His eyes feel heavy as they droop, exhaustion overcoming him from todays events.

Your head throbs as you come into consciousness. Your eyes blink hard in an attempt to open them. When they open your eyes are squinted, the bright lights pulling a groan from you, wishing the lights were turned off. You look around the room, head still attached to the pillow as your head feels to heavy to lift.

You see Pedro sitting in the chair next to the bed, his face is red and puffy, he has huge bags under his eyes and your heart physically aches while you’re remembering what happened to you. The monitor beside you beeps loudly and constantly, your heart rate becoming abnormally high for its usual base rate. The beeping wakes Pedro up, he shuffles in his sleep before prying his eyes open, looking at you starting right at him which startled him.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse, vulnerable. “Hi.” You whisper, your throat in desperate need of water to rid your cotton mouth.

The nurse comes walking in, seeing your heart rate, “it’s totally normal waking up from surgery, so don’t panic. We’ll get some more pain meds sent in straight away, how are you feeling?” Your eyes are half shut, looking at the woman in scrubs as you groan, “sore.” She puts your clipboard back onto the end of your bed, moving to your right side to check your temperature. “36.2. Temps good. What’s the last thing you remember?” You frown, not wanting to remember the pain and guilt Pedro had been through at the sake of your pain.

“I remember doing a stunt with Pedro, I think I fell and hit my head and waking up here.”

Pedro shakes his head, knowing that’s not the whole truth. The nurse nods, “okay, get some more rest if you can. I’ll get those pain meds back to you as soon as we can.”

The silence in the room was defeating, the noise ringing in your ears as you internally begged him to speak. He didn’t, so you did.

“I know I didn’t fall, it’s not your fault Pedro, we both messed up.” You turn your head to look at him and he’s still in his costume which makes you smile. “I thought I lost you. They said you might wake up with amnesia and you’d forget me.”

You reach out to him, holding his hand and weakly caressing his knuckles. “How could I ever forget you baby?” He finally looks at you, brown orbs watering at your kindness. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” “You did everything right to deserve me.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Pedro questions, his finger hovering above the play button as it’s paused right before your and his scene, when it happened.

It’s been a couple of months since your incident, unfortunately due to the severity of your head injury you were unable to continue filming, your producers were kind enough to pay you for the entirety of the film. You had given them permission to use the last take they filmed, they said the chemistry and emotion the two of you had brought to the movie was something they wanted to keep, and the lasso scene they had edited to make it look like a full on action movie. Of course during this whole incident, people had found out that you and Pedro were dating. Some weirdo in the hospital snapped pictures of the two of you kissing, you addressed it and admitted that you’d been together for a while now. Thankfully the fans have been nothing but supportive, but they’ve been asking if you���ve seen the new movie, saying you did a phenomenal job, praising you and Pedro for your work. You decided it was finally time to watch it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You exhale a shaky breath, Pedro presses the play button and he holds you close to him. His arms drawing circles down your arms to keep you grounded while you both watch the familiar scene unfold before you. “They have great chemistry don’t you think?” Pedro laughs, “yeah they sure do. Maybe they should just get married or something.”

The vulnerability of the scene nearly had you in tears, the music and editing was incredible. You tense as you brace yourself for the scene. You can’t will yourself to even blink let alone look away while it happens. You look to Pedro and sigh, “I’m okay, it’s just.. intense to relive all of that.” He kisses your temple, “I know baby, you’re so strong and I’m so proud of you.” You turn to him, “I’m proud of you too, you know.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “proud of me for what?” You snuggle into him, the warmth spreading between you like a house fire. “For not blaming yourself and for being there for me.”

“Always gonna be here for you baby.” You turn your attention back to the next scene where you were replaced with a stunt double who did the remainder of your scenes, so they decided not to kill your character off.

“Hey she’s pretty hot.” You jest. Pedro shrugs at the unfamiliar body with your face that’s been edited to it, “she doesn’t have an ass like you though.” He gives your ass a quick squeeze and you squeal. “You’re so lucky I love you,” his lips meet yours in a soft kiss, “I know honey, I am lucky.”