#since that’s usually my downfall

[nabaath-areng]

I never cry, find it hard to do so even, but Eden Shiva's theme literally PULLS it out of my eyes with force and there's no way to stop it.

Why? Honestly it's a mix of things. But they all center around my feelings about the game in itself and my relationship to it over time.

Back in 2.4 when Shiva dropped in ARR, I had only a couple weeks prior moved halfway across the globe, which was also my first time moving out and living on my own. A huge step when you're 18, but I took the leap regardless.

When I fought Shiva that day when it had dropped, I was obsessed. The aesthetics, the music, the emotions from MSQ... needless to say it left a mark in my memories. And months later I became psychotic from unaddressed trauma and unmedicated ADHD in combination with being on my own in a place where I was still trying to learn the language properly.

I ultimately had to return home the year after, even though I had originally planned to stay for two years. As I've talked about before it took me a couple years upon returning home to be freed from the delusions that haunted me, as well as of how FFXIV was the only thing really keeping me alive throughout it all. I couldn't kill myself, I thought... not when I was looking forward to play Heavensward so badly. And then the following patches and expansions after that became my new goalposts.

And then I fight Eden Shiva.

Not on launch. I was taking a break from the game as I'd become stressed from changes in my life while keeping up at the near obsessive pace ingame I had for years. So I only did it a couple months after the fight came out.

I was absolutely floored. The music, mechanics and the cinematics and the story's impact opened my eyes to how far the game I love had truly come. It was such a mindblowing upgrade to the original fight I loved so much, and not only was it incredible to see how much the game itself had evolved... but also to realize that I wouldn't have ever gotten to experience it if I hadn't stayed alive.

This was what I stayed for. Of course I also did so for my friends and family... but FFXIV was the only light in the darkness of my mind back when I was on my own on the other side of the planet from my family and loved ones, where I had nothing or no one to keep me grounded to reality.

And yet I persisted, with help from a few friends in particular who reached out when I nearly did give up, and was as a result able to see both FFXIV and myself growing to heights I could never have expected back in ARR.

And so everytime I put on Eden Shiva's theme, even to this day, I cry. The tears literally won't stop coming, I can't even do the fight ingame without them starting to flow. I rarely ever see the final part where Gaia joins in, because my vision's too blurry to make out details. If there were any AoE's or other mechanics to worry about in that final phase, I can assure you I would have stood in every single one.

Is that corny? Probably. Absolutely. But holy hell I really do love being alive. To be able to feel such strong emotions that aren't negative even if they're overwhelming. To be able to experience such beauty, and alongside with friends, and even strangers in duty finder. I can't believe I almost missed out on this.

I'm writing this because it happened just now, I put on the song while sitting out on the porch, and like a clockwork the tears started streaming. I hope crying won't be as difficult one day, but until then I'm glad that there's at least something that can let them flow freely.

[bleetusmcyeetus]

Not my dad saying my generation doesn’t want to do anything and will cause the downfall of the united states–

[marigraphia]

I have a sideblog now! Follow me at @marilalia for stuff like reblogs, art tips, and (maybe, eventually) more personal posts c:

[earthtooz]

x : BANDAGED HEART :*+ﾟ

in which: blade finds out you're injured and can't contain his anger.

warnings: gn!reader x protective!blade, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, 'who did this to you?' trope with blade LOL, slight manhandling, did i mention that he's protective?

a/n: blade debut, omg? this sucks btw but this was inspired by this comic that i saw the other day :> it just reminded me that the 'who did this to you' trope existed and i went YES and took my own spin onto it so, i hope you enjoy!

the smell of antiseptic wafts heavily through the air, bandages sit tightly rolled beside you, and you hiss at the sting of the antibacterial ointment slathered over the open wound on your arm. 

it hurts. 

blinking the tears away and gritting your teeth to bear with the pain, you reach for the unused roll, clumsily unravelling them with shaking hands and a blurring vision.

“oi.” a raspy voice from behind catches you off guard and you turn around from where you’ve seated yourself in the corner of the medical wing, having helped yourself to a supply of ointment and bandages. 

a familiar swordsman and fellow coworker towers above you, glowering at you through the streaks of his bangs. maybe if you weren’t on the verge of fainting, you’d have the energy to fear him.

“oh, it’s just you,” you mutter, “can i help you?”

his eyes glance you up and down, as if scanning you for any indication of misadventure. feeling uneasy under the intensity of his gaze, you return to trying to rip the bandages with bare hands since you had not brought scissors or even a blade with you in your haste. 

feeling the blood from your wound drip down your arm and onto the floor beneath you, you cringe, hurrying up so you don’t make a mess. this whole patching-yourself-up-thing should have been easy, but without something sharp and half your strength evaporated after a gruesome mission, it was much harder than usual. 

the growing frustration you were feeling was not offering much aid either, and with blade practically towering over you, you try not to let your fluctuating anger overwhelm you. 

aeons, it was as if you were sent on this mission with elio praying for your downfall. you’re lucky that you managed to get out with only a scratch on your arm and a missing weapon. it’s going to be hard finding a replacement for it, but when you just looked death in the face, you can’t say you have much to complain about that a weapon was the only thing you lost. 

suddenly, two hands sneak underneath your arms to lift you up, breaking your train of thought with a tight, unforgiving grip as you’re effortlessly placed onto a hospital bed right beside you. meeting the ruby eyes of the swordsman, your breath lodges uncomfortably in your throat, and you have to rip your gaze away from him; the intensity would paralyse you otherwise. 

“where are you hurt?” he asks, sounding more like a demand than a question. 

“i can do it myself,” you grumble. blade takes the bandage out of your hands, holding back your wrist that instinctively reached out to grab it back. the glare he shoots you from the corner of his eye placates any complaint you have.

“show me.”

reluctantly, you present your injured arm. he mutters a very quick and quiet ‘stay here’ before stalking off. a faucet is turned on, water begins running from a nearby sink, and blade returns with a wet cloth. 

grabbing your wounded arm, he cleans around the area, rubbing the blood that has trickled down your arm as well. he’s scarily gentle with you, attentive to your every wince and hiss, halting momentarily every time you let a noise slip. 

he makes quick work of patching you up, flawless and effortless in his technique. makes sense, you suppose, since he is covered in these. 

you wonder how many times he’s had to do this on himself. a small part of your heart aches thinking about it.

“thank you,” you whisper when he’s done, gratitude silently swirling inside you. grabbing the bandages and cloth, you slide off onto your feet. “i’ll put these away.” 

stepping in front of you, his body intercepts your path and you’re pressed against the bed, frozen under him. there’s an indescribable look of fury in his eyes, his red eyes seeming even angrier than usual. 

“what happened?” he asks.

you have hold yourself up, suddenly weak in the knees. “just a typical mission, it’s nothing you should worry about.”

the fellow stellaron hunter does not look satisfied with your response. “what do you mean ‘nothing you should worry about’? who did this to you?” he asks, punctuating each word with a dark expression. 

“blade- please, can we not talk about this right now?” you mutter, “i’m tired and i just want to sleep.”

he narrows his eyes. “who. hurt. you?”

“why? what can you do about it now?”

“kill them.”

you scoff. “yeah, right.”

blade wedges a leg between yours, hindering your escape even further by leaning himself closer to you. “i’m serious.”

“so am i. if you’re thinking about hunting them down, then please, don’t bother. let it go.” you mutter.

“but you got hurt.” 

“i get hurt all the time.”

his brows scrunch together, a small indication of the dangerous protectiveness growing within him. you interrupt his train of thoughts, placing a brave hand on his chest; right over his heart. ‘i’m fine. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“i’m not worried,” he grumbles lowly. 

“oh. i see.”

he grabs your hand and takes it away from his chest, holding you gently. “i’m angry that you got hurt.”

you’re speechless, blinking at the swordsman who raises your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. it feels like a promise- not that you know what said promise is, but with that look in his eyes, you know it’s not a peaceful one. 

“so why don’t you tell me the truth? who did this to you?”

the answer slips past your lips before you can help it and when the words are spilled, a creeping guilt invades you. whatever he’s planning, you know that bloodshed will follow.

“see, that wasn’t so hard.”

in a blink of an eye, blade is gone, taking the intense pressure with him. he left so quickly that you wonder if he was ever here to begin with. the lingering brush of his lips is the only indication that he was not a figment of your half-aware conscious.  

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.

Main Masterlist

next.

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User 2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties

User 3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though

→ User 4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me

User 5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots

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22•05•22

User 6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull

User 7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'

User 8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing

User 9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred

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16•06•22

fallontonight just posted

liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others

fallontonight did you know @ YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of The Tonight Show 📚🦘

4,477 comments

YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨

User 11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what

User 12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts

→ User 1 not even in the likes or comments

→ User 2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch

→ User 3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other

User 4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does

→ User 5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren and others

YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 Aug '22

4,990 comments

User 6 does this mean a new book is coming soon

→ User 7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest

→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to being right a romance novel at this time

→ User 6 confirmation??!?!

→ User 7 we’re children of divorce

→ User 8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over

landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞

→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare

→ User 9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart

→ User 10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here

kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends

→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x

→ User 11 i love their friendship

→ User 12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever

User 13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?

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04•09•22

User 14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???

→ User 15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him

User 16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that

YourUserName posted a new story

danielricciardo posted a new story

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and others

danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in Suzuka. Moving on to the Americas

5,509 comments

User 1 maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly

User 2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better

mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪

User 3 letting mclaren and lando down

→ User 4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something

→ User 5 he’s way too young for her

→ User 4 they'd make a good looking couple tho

(comments have been disabled for this post)

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19•10•22

YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others

YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco tagged: kellypiquet

kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍

→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home

→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned

landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing

→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in

→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40

→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy

User 7 happy birthday to the best author

User 8 happy birthday queen

carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo happy birthday x

User 5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with

→ User 6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo

lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕

liked by YourUserName

mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳

liked by YourUserName

Request are open!

Baby Fever Angst Series

[gghostwriter]

Have Your Cake

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Trope: Comfort; Established relationship w.c: 1.8k Trigger warnings: tackles eating disorder and body dysmorphia a/n: this is a really hard topic I personally felt the need to write about (in a way to comfort myself.) Its very personal as I used my past eating disorder here so if its something you’re not comfortable with, please go skip ahead to another fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer wrapped the front ends of his coat tighter on his slender body. It did little to no good fending off the cool seasonal air of an October night. His scuffled loafers squeaking from his shuffling feet. 

The line at your favorite bakery was unsurprisingly long on a Tuesday evening. Every night, the shop sells their remaining pastries at a discount To lure innocent commuters, tired from a long day of pushing papers. He usually wasn’t one to give in to the notion of ‘treating yourself’—unless counting out his big spendings on first editions written in its original language.

He gave the cashier a slight smile before listing off his purchase, one slice of their decadent strawberry shortcake and another of their vanilla bean sponge cake—both your favorites. And both an integral part of his perfectly thought of scheme to solve a riddle.

Your mystery.

In simple layman’s terms, they were bribery of some sort.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, side stepping his way out from the throng of customers holding their own trays of pastries and back into the cold October air.

He blamed himself for not noticing the change in patterns early on. His attention otherwise preoccupied by the trauma from his time in prison and the stares that vary from judgement to pity that come from officers outside of the BAU.

No longer was he the shining, new prodigy once hailed to be, now he was just damaged goods. His downfall from grace was an adjustment.

His mind was another matter, all together—could no longer detect subtle shifts in behavior as fast as he used to.

Yes, there was really no one else to blame but himself.

As his long strides covered the way home, the moon shining down on the empty streets, Spencer thought back to the moment when he finally noticed you eating less and less.

———

You pulled down the cuffs of Spencer’s Caltech sweater, leaving only the tips of your fingers peeking through. Everything about it made you self-conscious. How it drapes down your shoulders differently from before. How it wraps around your body, sending shivers down your spine. And how it leaves the lower half of your plush thighs exposed for anyone to see—anyone to judge. 

You hated it.

You hated how hyper aware a single comment from a distant relative made you feel.

**

A voice from a distance called out your name causing you to look around the aisles of grocery and come face to face with an aunt, twice removed from your father’s side. 

“It is you!” She leaned in to kiss your cheek. Her choice of perfume, a sickly sweet artificial scent of oranges, wafting on your nose.

It made you want to gag.

A fake smile donned your face. “Oh, hi Auntie. What a surprise to see you back in Virginia.”

“Oh, I just flew in for my husband’s sister’s birthday. You know how we are, always booked and busy with events,” she waved her hand, the ostentatious diamond ring on her finger catching the light. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated college. You look so different now—more and more like your mother.”

“Thanks, I always did look like her,” you awkwardly laughed.

Her eyes traveled down to your feet and back up again, a tight grin on her face. It made her look vicious, condescending, causing you to catch your breath as she uttered the words that would repeat in your head like a commercial slogan you can’t get away from.

“But you were much prettier when you were thinner—” her eyebrow raised, cataloguing the items in your cart. “Might want to cut down on the carbs a little bit, sweetie.”

She poked a wound inside of you that never seemed to fully heal.

You thought you were better, all those years of talking to your therapist and changing your relationship with food for the better made you believe those dark days were behind you. But those spitting phrases veiled as words of care from a family member amplified the doubts once buried in the recesses of your mind.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was great seeing you, Auntie.”

**

The jiggling of keys brought you back to the present.

“Love, I’m home!”

You called back from the kitchen, finishing up plating tonight’s dinner—a fresh serving of Chicken Alfredo to share. “In here, Spence!”

With a saccharine smile on his tired but beautiful face, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder for a loving hug. His pillowy lips leaving trails of kisses from your temples, to your nose, to your cheeks, and finally landing on your awaiting lips. 

You giggled at his antics. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” another peck on the lips. “Dinner looks amazing. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know how much I like to cook for you.”

He brought up a mystery package to showcase, eyes tracking every minuscule change on your face. “And I brought us some dessert! Your favorites from the bakery.” 

The smile on your face threatened to drop. “That’s—that’s great!”

———

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you all throughout dinner. One of the disadvantages of dating a man who earns his living by understanding human behavior and its changes—triggers, as he would like to call it, is never having the leisure of keeping a secret.

He means well, you‘d like to believe so, but that didn’t change the fact he knew something was bothering you. 

It made you feel like a riddle he wanted to solve. It made you want to scream and cry.

The only reprieve you could get was within the little confines of your shared bathroom, water beating down your back muffling the sobs that escaped from your tightly pressed lips.

Everything felt too much. 

The devil voices in your head listing off the calories each spoonful contains. The mathematical equation of how long you’d need to exercise to lose every unnecessary bite eaten over dinner. And the facade of keeping everything together—everything perfect.

You picked off the sides of your nails, already raw and starting to bleed. 

Maybe you shouldn’t eat breakfast and lunch tomorrow. Maybe you should walk the 15 minute commute from here to the office. It would take 30 minutes but that’s additional exerc—

“Love, is everything alright?” Spencer asked behind the locked bathroom door. 

You turned, turning off the shower, before hurriedly toweling off the droplets all over your hair and body. “Yes, I’m—I’m almost done!”

Swiveling around the dry area, you realized you forgot to bring in a change of clothes beyond a clean pair of underwear.

You sighed to yourself as you wrapped the towel around your chest. Still feeling uncomfortable and oddly naked even then. 

“Spence, there’s still some hot water left—are you okay?” You ask, having found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a distinct frown on his face. 

He stood up. Hands on your waist, shuffling both your bodies closer to one corner of bedroom.“It’s just—you know how much I deeply care for you, right?”

You slowly answered. “Yes, of course. I deeply care for you too.”

“So I have to ask, are you alright? Really alright?”

“Wha—what do you mean? Of course, I am—I’m completely fine,” you vehemently denied. The lump on your throat making you sound hysterical, even in your ears. If you couldn’t fool yourself, what chances were there that Spencer was fooled—none.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been eating smaller portions lately and you didn’t even take a bite of the cakes I brought home. You’ve also been going to the gym daily, instead of your usual five times a week. And you’ve started wearing my clothes more—not that it’s a problem. I love seeing you in my clothes but you’ve started to prefer baggy silhouettes rather than your usuals. It’s like you’re hiding your body. Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.” 

It was the soft tone in his voice mixed with his doe, teary eyes that caused you to break under pressure. Your shoulders shook as sobs that you’ve kept bottled up rose to the surface. It was a wave of emotions that battered through your dam of facade. 

“I hate how I look—I hate that I gained weight,” you cried out. “I hate how a relative pointed it out and how her words won’t leave my mind. I hate it, Spence. I loathe it all—the voices in my head whispering how I should keep track of every meal I eat in a notebook like I did before. Telling me to never go beyond a 800 calories per day, to workout two hours a day twice! It’s just—” you took a deep breath, vision blurring from tears. “—so exhausting and please, make it stop.”

Spencer hugged you tight to his chest, as if wanting to merge you two as one to take away all your pain and sorrow. Your hands creasing his white button down with a grip so tight. 

For a second, it felt liberating to let it all out. But the fleeting emotion had passed, leaving you with only shame from your admittance.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” he detangled himself, enough to stare into your eyes. “Love, can I show you something?”

You nodded. He slowly turned you around, back against his chest, to face the full length mirror tucked in the corner. His eyes never leaving yours as his calloused fingers reached up to the tucked ends of the towel wrapped around your body. He tilted his head, asking for your permission to which you slowly nodded.

Your naked body was in full view. Your nails digging onto your palm as you catalogued every minuscule flaw there is—the additional flesh around your stomach and sides and your hips no longer as thin as they were before.

“Do you know what I see?” He softly asked.

You bit your lip before shutting your eyes close, unable to take what was right in front of you. “Me and how I gained weight?”

He placed a kiss on your temple. “No. I see a beautiful adult woman who has curves in all the right places—”

He laid a kiss on your cheek. “I see the love of my life in her full loving glory—”

He kissed the side of your neck. “I see my future wife who loves herself and all the changes that aging and our slowing metabolism entails—”

He placed one last kiss on your shoulder. “—I see you, and I love every piece of you. And I hope you love every part as much as I do.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[anitalenia]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

[clawsdevour]

behind the dressing room curtains

wc: 1.9k content warning: smut, established relationship, public-sex, voyeurism, cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, one-shot, multi-fandom x reader, my booty writing, not proof read

✧･ﾟ

You know your man can be a bit impulsive but you didn’t know it’d lead to you both in the dressing room of a busy lingerie shop.

The other day you mentioned how you needed to purchase some new bras as the ones you’ve been wearing for about three years straight were starting to wear out. You also planned on picking up a few new panties, you know, you might as well sinceyou’re already there. 

Walking into the lingerie store with your man was a mistake to say the least. At least a fun one. His wandering eyes lingered towards the erotic pieces of lingerie, which you weren’t very interested in buying but he seemed quite into it. Thus piqued your interest a tad bit.

“I think you would look so good in this” he’d say and look at you with a slight smirk, then point at the mannequin wearing the displayed undergarments.

“What makes you think I’d actually buy that?” you rolled your eyes with a slight smile on your face. He was a bit goofy to say, somewhat like taking care of a manchild, but nevertheless you liked that about him.

You picked up three of the usual type of underwear you wear daily, two bras to replace the old ones, and one red matching set that you set your heart on purchasing just to see his reaction. Before that you headed towards the dressing rooms, your boyfriend trailing behind you.

“Just sit here and wait, I need to try these on” pointing to the little sofa outside your dressing room. He nodded and sat with his phone out, waiting for you even though you knew he was somewhat impatient.

The three panties you chosen were, well, the typical regular fit that hugged your curves and ass. The two bras gave your boobs that little push they needed to look good in every shirt you’ve ever worn. The last to try on was the red lacy set. You knew this set was definitely gonna get him excited that night, as in mood and that cock of his. Just when you put on the detailed set of panties on, tits bare and out, you heard a knock on the wall.

“Hey, are you finished yet? It’s like I haven’t seen you for like a whole three hours since you been in there for so long,” the curtain of your dressing room slid slightly to the left where you were able to make eye contact with him. Your hand covered your chest while you both looked at each other in shock. Your heart raced as you realized he’s already seen his surprise that was supposed to be awaiting for him that night.

You realize people were still in the dressing rooms and could walk in and out any minute from now. You pulled him into the dressing room with you, shutting the curtain tight. Letting anyone see what just happened would be your own downfall, at least in the moment it was.

There, your lean toned boyfriend stood and looked down at your curves which were accentuated by the panties. Oh boy was he flustered and surprised, especially down there. Your breasts just barely being covered by your hands, ass almost out on full display and covered by a thin piece of red lace for panties. He was spiraling when he saw the matching bra hanging on the hook and peered back down at you. You were also embarrassed at this sudden intrusion that you did on yourself. He relaxed a bit and took a moment to realize the situation. You, all shy and cute in public, ignited something in him. You saw it when his facial expressions shifted.

“What’s the meaning of this hmm? Are you thinking about surprising me tonight?” he quietly snickered at you, trying to hide his voice from anyone who’s potentially outside. He put his thumb on your chin, leaning in.

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t” you looked down and pouted in annoyance.

“You’re so cute you know that?” he grabbed your waist closer to his and kissed your neck which caused you to let out a small gasp. Your immediate reaction was to slap your hand over your mouth and your other arm to hang onto his shoulders. 

“Do you really need this pair of panties, or well, the whole matching set?” he questions while he started to kneel down, pulling down the red pair of lingerie with it. You shake your head as a no, still somewhat embarrassed.

“I don’t, but if you buy it for me.. then you could see me in it every night” you whispered under your breath, trying to control your racing heart. He let out a low sneer as he lowers his mouth towards your dripping cunt. 

His eye contact while licking r warm pussy clean makes you even more aroused. His thin warm tongue touching upon your bundle of nerves has your legs tense and you whimpering. You placed your right hand on your mouth to suppress the sounds you began to let out as he started to slowly go up and down your pussy with his tongue. Your left hand was pushing his head down further towards your sopping wet cunt that you, oh so wanted to get eaten. At this point, he’s grasping your ass so hard he could bruise your cheek. He pulls his head away for a moment and slips in a thick finger. You let out a low whimper as he adds in another finger and starts to edge you to the point where your head starts to tilt back.

“You look so pretty from down here. Trying to not get caught moaning for me. Even better without anything on your gorgeous body,” he mumbles to you from below, with his eyes full of lust and adoration. The words he said huffed air onto your warm pussy making you flinch a bit from the cool air.

“Do you want this dick? Hmm.. this dick? The only one that can make you feel this good?” He teased.

 You nod frantically as he slips in a third finger. You whine, impatiently waiting for him to take it out from his pants. You could see the outline of his boner that wanted to be freed so bad from the tightness it created.

“Turn around for me baby,” he whispered in your ear, to which you much obliged. You were shocked to realize that behind you was the fitting room mirror. He knew what he wanted to see.

He grabs your hips and positions his cock between your drenched folds. He slides between your slit a few times to get your slick as lube before diving head first into your aching pussy.

“Just put it in.. we might get caught and I can’t wait any longer,” you complained under your breath. Expecting him to go in nice and slow, he enters you in one immense thrust causing you to let out a silent scream.

Your body was pressed against the mirror showing you what your boyfriend caused when you pulled him into the fitting room. Watching yourself get fucked brainless by your boyfriend in the dressing room was such an erotic act you’ve never done before. The act alone made you feel horny, committing it in public drove your high to go insane. Seeing each thrust he puts into you, as if abusing your walls made you let out one big moan. You’ve never put both your hands over your mouth so fast. He’s giving you silent kisses on your neck and back, also watching through the mirror. He enjoyed watching your expressions go wild due to the thrill of being in public.

“Let’s make this quick, we’ve been in this dressing room for a.. too long nngh” he murmurs into your ear before kissing your cheek. You agree and nod out an Mhm as he continues slamming his hips into yours. Suppressing your moans while fucking secretly, almost discreetly, behind a thin curtain while being able to watch you and your boyfriend's every move felt like it was gonna last forever. The adrenaline you got out of this thrilling act of indecency made you even more excited. The ramming of his dick into your pussy continuously, made your body start feeling the building tension in your abdomen. You were gonna cum and he knew it from the way you looked in the mirror.

At this point your boyfriend was also starting to chase after his release. He started to suck harder on your skin and tighten his grip on the sides of your ass, causing crescent shapes to appear on your skin. 

“I’m c.. cumming..” you breathed in between moans, still, trying to subdue your voice. Your brain felt numb, your cunt was more than content while getting punished by his twitching cock. Your pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was close to climaxing.

“I.. I am too” was heard when you looked at him in the mirror. His face was twisting into his peaking expressions, knowing he was about to unleash his white goo into you in a few more thrusts.

“Cum in me. I’ll hold it in.. ah-ah.. until we’re, home..” you were able to mumble those words to him when you reached your climax. He notices that you came, knowing it’s time to finish and get out of the dressing room, he mouthed the words okay. You plot on keeping his essence in you until you go home right after you pay and leave the lingerie store. You were too tired and messy to go into another other shop after this sudden quickie.

There it was. He let out a muted groan as his white paint spreads and coats the inside of your tight walls that gripped his dick. You both were trying to stop yourselves from breathing too heavily, trying not to get caught by the workers or people around you. Careful to not let it drip out, he pushes his seed deeper into you with another thrust or two. When he pulled out, he puts his cock back into his pants and zips it back up. Quickly he scanned around the dressing room, finding the panties you came in wearing. You’re standing there, legs numb and still spread out, holding in his cum which could burst out any minute, hand still on your mouth and the mirror. 

He gently sits you on the little stool the dressing room provides and kneels down to slip on your underwear and bra. Your hands grip his shoulders and you cooperate. 

“My clothes..” You point at your clothes hanging on the wall, signaling him to hand over your clothes. 

“Don’t worry baby, I got you” was softly spoken from his mouth as he slipped your arms into the sleeves. Pulling your shirt over you as well as your pants.You keep your arms up, he notices and helps you stand up making sure you’re able to walk normally after getting fucked brainlessly.

“I can walk, you dumbass” you said while holding onto his right shoulder.

“Well.. I think you’re gonna have to hold onto me cause it looks like you need some help” peering at you, chuckling as he grabs your bag for you and the items you took to the dressing room.

He looks back at you, cunningly. You sense a sly smirk appearing as he starts to open the curtain that you’ve both been hiding behind. 

“I’ll buy you the red set you so badly wanted to wear for me.”

*.༄ GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU, CHOSO KAMO, KAEYA ALBERICH, WRIOTHESLEY, DABI, HAWKS, OIKAWA TOORU, SUNA RINTARO, KUROO TETSUROU, TSUKISHIMA KEI, ATSUMU MIYA, TANAKA RYUNOSUKE (ALL AGED UP/POST-TIME SKIP), and of course any of your favorite characters!!!

masterlist here

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Here's a continuation of my "Arthur becomes Emrys's familiar" au since that's what won the poll!

You can find part one of this au here!

A quick recap if you didn't see my previous post: the basics of this au are that Arthur performed a ritual with the help of the druids to lift a curse that was placed on Camelot by Morgana, but in doing so, he bound himself to Emrys, the god of magic, as his familiar and servant. Because of this, Arthur can now physically see Merlin's magic as strands of golden dust and can hear messages telepathically given to him by Merlin. Merlin, meanwhile, tried to stop Arthur from performing the ritual and is now just desperately trying to keep his magic a secret from Arthur, who misinterprets the magic he sees swirling around Merlin as a threat from Emrys to keep him complacent.

Alright, now that I've finished the recap, onto the new stuff!

After Arthur spent a few months in Camelot under Emrys's control and seeing the threat of magic everywhere around him, he felt like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Emrys still hadn't even told him what his plans for Arthur were, which led Arthur to believe that the god no doubt had some heinous plan that would be torturous for Arthur. After all, what other plan could the god of magic have for the king of the land that had eradicated his worshippers for decades besides pain and death?

The longer Arthur waited for Emrys to reveal anything about his plans or to give Arthur some terrible order that would set in motion Camelot's downfall, the more nervous and paranoid Arthur became. Because did it seem like the buzzing in his head was getting louder each day, or was that his imagination? Was Emrys slowly taking control of his mind without Arthur even knowing?!

All Arthur knew for certain was that Emrys wanted him alive to do his bidding. Now that Arthur could see Emrys's magic, he could see how the golden dust strengthened his armor, enhanced his weapons, and attacked his enemies. On certain occasions, it even protected Arthur's loved ones.

(Arthur swore that he was never as close to a heart attack as he was when he saw those golden strands of light bind themselves around Guinevere and roughly pull her from her chair. Arthur had thought for a terrible moment that Emrys had found some fault to punish Arthur for, and the horrible god was taking it out on his wife. However, Arthur was relieved beyond words when he saw an arrow hit the back of Guinevere's chair, where she had been sitting only a second before. Emrys wasn't punishing him through Guinevere, he was saving Arthur's wife. Why would he do that though? Did the god also need Guinevere alive for his plans?)

Merlin had also been acting strangely after the ritual. Arthur could see that Emrys's magic curled itself tightly around Merlin, like a large snake poised to strangle its prey. Arthur knew that this was a ever-present threat from Emrys, that if Arthur took one step out of line or disobeyed in any way, Merlin would be the one suffering for it.

Since the ritual, Merlin had been even more fidgety than usual, if that was even possible. It was like something was causing him an unusual amount of anxiety. Arthur just knew that Merlin's constant state of discomfort was because of the magic surrounding him, perhaps Merlin could sense the danger that was always around, even if the other man couldn't see it? Still, Arthur didn't want to tell Merlin about the magic constantly surrounding him, it would give poor Merlin a heart attack! His loyal manservant always looked scared, just for a split second, when magic was even mentioned, and Arthur didn't want to give Merlin the fright of his life by telling him that he was now being targeted by the god of magic because of Arthur's actions.

Emrys truly was a wily and devious god! Of course the nefarious god of magic wouldn't put Arthur's burden on Arthur's shoulders alone. No, it was the way of magic that it targeted the innocent, threatening people that had nothing to do with the ritual in the first place! This curse was Arthur's to bear alone, but of course Emrys would not abide by that!

Arthur tried to keep his cursing out of the god in his own thoughts to a minimum, just in case Emrys could hear his thoughts, which was entirely plausible given their mental connection. Eventually, it all becomes too much for Arthur. He fears that he'll be ultimately used as a tool to aid Emrys in the destruction of Camelot, so he makes plans to secretly give the crown to Gwen and resign all of his power. He still has to physically stay in Camelot, who knows what evil Emrys would rain down upon the kingdom if he realized that his pawn had left, but at the very least Emrys couldn't manipulate Arthur into ruining Camelot of Arthur wasn't in charge of Camelot.

Merlin, having spent ten years convincing Arthur that he's a great king and will lead Camelot into the golden age as its king, hearing that Arthur is planning on abdicating the throne in order to foil Emrys's plans: YOU FUCKING WHAT?!

Merlin, during all of this, has been using his connection with Arthur as sparingly as possible. He knows how much of a toll this who "familiar" thing has been for Arthur, and he wants to make it as small of a burden as possible, only giving Arthur life-saving and non-invasive commands.

But Merlin absolutely will NOT allow Arthur to give up his throne, to throw away their destiny, over a threat that isn't even really a threat! So, with a heavy heart, Merlin decides to use his "Emrys voice" to give Arthur a stern talking-to.

Merlin was hoping for his mental lecture to come off as a parent gently guiding a child away from making a terrible mistake, but on Arthur's end, he has a pissed off and sleep deprived deity shouting at full blast inside his mind about "abandoning his destiny" and "not trusting in fate".

For Arthur, it's the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced, and he can see the golden threads around Merlin flashing brightly around him when his manservant comes to wake him the next morning. Arthur gets the message: he has displeased Emrys, and Emrys is only going to give him one warning before Merlin bears the punishment for Arthur's disobedience. And however much Arthur wants to ensure that Camelot is protected from Emrys's plots, he cannot lose Merlin. So, Arthur calls off his plans to abdicate, in accordance with Emrys's commands.

(Arthur hates it like nothing else in the world. Not even following Uther's orders made rage and frustration flare up in his chest as it did now. Emrys knew exactly where to apply pressure to make Arthur break, and the villainous god had done exactly that.)

However, Arthur's attempt at abdication and Emrys's subsequent rage still did not answer Arthur's question: what plans did Emrys have for him? For what purpose did the evil god need Arthur alive and on the throne for?

Arthur wouldn't get any answers until the next battle against Morgana. Arthur's army was poised to battle against Morgana's Saxon hoarde in the morning, but Arthur couldn't get any sleep. Arthur knew that it was imperative for him to lead from the front lines as a strong and noble king, fighting alongside his loyal knights. However, Arthur couldn't shake the doubts rising in his mind. He was the familiar to the god of magic now, how did he know that he would not be forced by Emrys to betray Camelot in the heat of battle? Surely Emrys would be favoring Morgana in this battle?

So, in the privacy of his tent, Arthur knelt down and prayed for the first time since the ritual. Arthur had tried every other possible way of communicating with Emrys, but their mental connection either seemed to be one-sided or Emrys was ignoring all of mental messages for him. However, Arthur knew that Emrys couldn't possibly resist hearing what made a Pendragon so desperate that he would humiliate himself in such a way to the god of magic.

That night before the battle, Arthur prayed for Emrys to please help him protect his home and his knights. Arthur told Emrys that regardless of Emrys's feelings toward Arthur, his knights were good men who deserved to live to see another sunrise. Arthur begged for Camelot's innocent citizens to be spared from Morgana's wrath.

To Arthur's shock, he heard Emrys respond through their bond. His voice was softer than Arthur had ever heard it. In fact, the voice was so soft and gentle, Arthur swore that it sounded like Merlin's voice for a split second: I will be with you.

Arthur felt only slightly comforted by that. It could have been a sly trick from Emrys to get Arthur to lower his guard before the battle, but for some reason, Arthur didn't think that it was.

During the battle itself, Arthur is surrounded by complete chaos. At one point, he surrounded by at least eight enemies, having been cut off from his knights. He readies himself to either cut down his opponents or go down fighting when, all of a sudden, the strings of golden dust that had been knocking enemy soldiers off their feet rushed towards Arthur. Arthur braced himself, but when the light touched Arthur, it simple diffused itself into his skin, like it did at the end of the ritual that landed Arthur in this whole mess.

However, this time, the golden light that clung onto Arthur's skin didn't simply fade. Instead, it grew brighter and brighter, nearly forcing Arthur to close his eyes against the luminosity of it! After the light had grown to a blinding glow, it flew off of Arthur's skin with a blast, violently knocking away any Saxons that it hit. When Arthur's sight cleared and he looked around, he could see that all of Morgana's front lines, encompassing at least a thousand fully-armed Saxons, had been decimated by the blast.

Arthur stood alone, still separated from his men, and looked all around him with awe and horror in equal amounts. He could still feel the golden light on his skin, a slight tingling sensation that made the hair on his arms raise. Did... did Arthur just perform magic?! Had he blasted away all of those soldiers?!

Oh god, this was Emrys's plan all along, wasn't it! To turn Arthur into some power-hungry sorcerer corrupted by magic!

As Arthur's panic worked its way deeper into his chest and up his throat, Emrys spoke to him once more: That was my doing, Arthur, not yours.

With hysteria still gripping his chest, Arthur tilted his head to the heavens and shouted: "Give me more of an explanation than that for once you bastard! I need answers!"

And, shockingly, Emrys responded to him: I merely used you as a conduit for my magic. I was channeling my power through you. Be at ease, young king, for you are no sorcerer.

(Merlin, hidden nearby, mentally gives himself a pat on the back for both sounding sufficiently god-like and successfully channeling his magic through Arthur to make it drastically more powerful for the first time, since he was saving that particular ability for a real emergency, like that Arthur getting surrounded by angry Saxons. He'd wanted to avoid freaking Arthur out with that ability, but he'd take a panicked Arthur over a dead Arthur any day.)

After they return to Camelot victorious, Arthur is morose once more. How can his loves ones even be safe when they're in the room with him if Emrys could turn him into a living magical weapon at a moment's notice?!

(And one time skip and a dramatic magic reveal later, followed by a tense and emotional confrontation between Merlin and Arthur, Arthur would be pissed beyond words that he'd been made into a servant FOR HIS OWN DAMNED SERVANT!

Once Arthur works through his anger towards Merlin, he realizes that the whole ridiculous situation does make for some fun banter though.

And if Merlin's able to save Arthur from a fatal wound after Camlann thanks to their magical connection, then the prophecy would just say that they were truly two sides of the same coin: each a king and a servant to the other.)

Phew! That was a long post! Well, I hope that everyone enjoyed this au idea! I'll see you all again soon!

And, as always, thank you so much for reading through my ramblings! :D

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Will Graham Headcanons (General)

''I would become a monster for you.'' — Will Graham.

❝ 🔪 — lady l: I've had this in my head for a while and finally decided to write it down. Will is a poor baby and I just want to love him ❤️. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🤎

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, kidnapping, death and mention of suicide and violence, toxic relationships.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!will graham x gender neutral!reader.

Will Graham is desperate to be loved, to be accepted for who he is. He no longer wants to have to hide who he is, his true nature. When you came into the picture, he knew he could have it with you. Will knew you would love him and accept him for who he is. You were the beginning of his downfall.

He longs for someone who accepts him unconditionally, without judgment, and who understands his inner nuances and dilemmas. This search for acceptance is exacerbated by his reluctance to hide his true nature, even if it means facing the consequences of being misunderstood or even feared. Will doesn't want to be a monster, but for you, he'll be willing to become one.

His unique ability to empathize with the killers he pursues consumes him, leading him to delve deep into their minds to understand their motives and methods. This ability helps him understand you better, and delve into your mind and when he does this it only strengthens the feelings he has for you. You are something he must protect and love above all else.

Will has his night terrors constantly and every time he has them he will come to you for comfort. Even though he's not the biggest fan of being social, you keep him calm, the warmth of your hug and the kind words you whisper to him make him even more dependent on you.

He is desperate for your love and your constant acceptance. He wants your affection and love above all else and is willing to play dirty to get it. Will is an excellent manipulator and he will know how to use your feelings against yourself, and make you feel bad.

You're not going to leave him, are you? Can't you see how much he needs you? How desperate is he for you? Will is going to hurt you for even thinking about leaving him. You're so bad for this and Will will have to fix that. You won't leave him, not alive, at least.

Will is a born manipulator, albeit a subtle one. He will know how to make the situation favorable for him and will make you trust him, using both his empathy and manipulations to get what he wants. You will be his no matter what.

If Will sees no other alternative, he will probably kidnap you. It's not what he wants, since he wants a normal relationship with you but if he's too unstable or feels for even a moment that you won't reciprocate what he feels, Will will kidnap you. He will feel bad about it but he won't let you go. Not until he's sure you won't leave him.

Will is extremely possessive and jealous of you. A lot of this jealousy comes from the fact that he doesn't think he's good enough for you, that you deserve someone better than him but he's selfish and won't let you go. You are his and he will not be subtle when he is jealous, which happens very often.

He will be bitter and sarcastic towards anyone who made him jealous and will try to make it clear that you are his. Hands on your waist and a hard look usually do the trick. But if it doesn't work, Will will be more aggressive and will use threats and in more extreme cases, violence, which can end with a bruised and bloody corpse. He would deal with the consequences after comforting you for seeing such a violent scene.

Will is as protective as he is possessive. He loses his mind at the thought of you being hurt, or worse, dead. Any injury inflicted on you will not be treated lightly and Will will demand to know who it was that hurt you. He hates knowing that someone hurt you and he will get rid of them sooner or later. He is not a killer, not at first, but for you he will become one. If for some reason you died, Will wouldn't be able to bear it and would waste away until death claimed him. He can't live without you.

Only a very small number of people will be allowed to Interact with you and only after Will is sure they are not a potential threat. He can't risk you being taken from him and he won't. Anyone who tries won't live long to tell the tale.

Will is going to try to make you happy because he can't stand the idea of ​​seeing you sad, especially if it's his fault. He will take you for a walk with the dogs who, by the way, will become attached to you in the same way as their owner. Although he's not rich, Will won't mind spending money to spoil you a little. Everything to make you happy.

To Will Graham, you are more than just an object of his desire. You are his redemption and his ruin, his salvation and his perdition. He is willing to face any challenge, even turning into a monster, to keep you by his side. He's already unstable, you were just the final straw for his darkest thoughts to fill his mind. And only God knows what he thinks about you.

[lovifie]

Back to Masterlist

Hi, this a post about callsigns characters could have because I love "cool" sounding nicknames with the most stupid backstory:

Rat: Because when you first entered the team you were so shy that when you weren't on a mission they could only see you scurrying out of a room whenever they entered like a little mouse. Plus, Gaz keeps saying you look like the rat from the Wallace and Gromit movie when eating breakfast.

Knockout/Knock: Because Soap and you were playing around, he was following you and you were running so fast you didn't notice the door was locked and you ran into it so hard you knocked yourself out.

Icarus: You made fun of Ghost for being British and about how they always burn when they tan only for you to go and get such an aggressive sunburn you were required to take medical leave for two weeks.

Pudding: After a mission you were craving it so bad that you didn't care that the only one left was way past its recommended date for eating. And after reassuring them that you would be fine you ended up throwing up so hard late at night that you woke up everybody.

Mole: Because when you are not wearing your glasses you are so blind they wonder how did you even made it into the military. Many people think you are just a spy that the task force kept as a pet.

Pierrot: Which is a sad clown, often pining for the love of Columbine, who usually breaks his heart and leaves him for Harlequin. And since that's basically a compilation of your love life that became your name, a sad clown but in Italian.

Anakin: You tried to download one of the Star Wars movies from a not-so-trustworthy website, you ended up downloading such a massive amount of viruses that you were almost the reason for the downfall of the whole military because of how aggressive the hack attack was. You now have parental control on everything that has internet access.

Navi: As in the fairy that travels with Link on the Legend of Zelda. Because every time that you would try to de-escalate an argument you would start like: "Hey, listen, we are all tired." "Hey, listen, let's all take a breath." "Hey, listen, we are all adults."

Gecko: Because while sleeping on deployment a gecko fell on your face from the ceiling, and you became so terrified of them that you barely slept for months after that.

Baby: Do you know when you accidentally call your teacher "mom"? Well, it happened to you, but you called Price "dad" and he didn't skip a beat before answering "Yes, babygirl?"

I could go on and on with these, I hope you find it at least half as funny as I do. Feel free to use them however you want and to add to the list as well, please I'll love to read them. 🩷🩷

Also, I would definitely be Mole, my blind ass would shoot and wish for the best. Which one would you guys be?? Also, Knockout and Icarus are my favourite ones and the reason I made the post hehe

Also, the rat I mentioned:

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[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, kissing, make up sex, soft sex that turns rough quite quickly, dom!caleb, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "baby" "pipsqueak", lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 4.1k

Perhaps, yearning had a time and a place for everyone. But for the two of you, maybe it had gone on for longer than you could take, the slightest shift in the atmosphere ready to break that fragile little bubble of boundaries.

"If it were that easy to get a license, I wouldn't be here in your bed complaining, you know!" You scoffed, falling upon the soft mattress and dangling your feet off the edge. As Caleb laughed, easing into a spot beside you, you softened.

It had barely been a few days.

You'd get back from your exam, wrestling uncertainty with your results, and he was there—ready to listen, willing to offer a crying shouder if need be. You didn't cry, of course, only complained. But the mere presence of him by your side was enough to lull you out of your negativity, turning your talks into lighthearted moments for you to look back on and smile.

It happened often, with Caleb.

It was so easy to be with him, so easy to relax and just... be yourself, no questions asked, no image to uphold.

Ever since you were children.

It was just the kind of friendship you shared; the mutual trust, the mutual comfort. And you wouldn't have it any other way, except that...

Discreetly, you glanced at the figure beside you, Caleb also having gone silent, the both of you taking to stare outside the window of his room. He looked sentimental like this, almost, and pretty. The steadiness of his broad back... and the way you thought it would be nice, for once, to ruffle his hair instead of the other way around.

All familiar to you, all... cherished, by you.

"So... You'll be leaving again, huh?"

Your voice was casual, or at least—as casual as you could make it be. Yet, a certain apprehension settled into the pit of your stomach, and when he turned his head to face you, violet eyes glowing under the drifting moonlight, you felt yourself swallow thickly.

"Ah, well. You know the drill," he shrugged, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Yet despite the playfulness in his tone, there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart churn. "My vacation ends, and I gotta be on my way first thing in the morning... Y'know. The usual."

You wished he wouldn't say it out loud, but you supposed you brought this upon yourself. You were the one that had asked, after all—yet you looked into his eyes, finding that you couldn't even bring yourself to look away, and there was nothing to stop the pout that slowly formed on your face. It was your turn to look away, almost as if refusing to look at him when you were like this.

"When will you be back again?"

He stayed quiet, for a while. If you looked at him, you would have noticed the little tilt of his head, the little smile on his face. But you could feel his eyes on you, and you wouldn't dare turn your head.

Caleb, after all, never missed an opportunity to poke fun at you.

"Aww, pipsqueak, are you that upset?"

You couldn't believe he would even question it.

Huffing, you glanced to the side, already noting the glint of mischief hidden in his eyes. "What, and you're not?" Your voice was sharp, but your retort lacking. Even Caleb knew that you were often more creative with your responses, and he had the audacity to laugh at your expense, almost delighting in the way you would puff your cheeks, indignance written all over you.

"D'you want me to be?" He grinned, leaning down to your height, searching your eyes. Always, you would think that his irrational penchant for being perceptive would be your downfall, and you knew this was no exception.

"...You're always so telling with your gaze."

Caleb shook his head, straightening himself only to reach out and ruffle your hair. It was just as he'd always done since you were children, and the gentle familiarity of it made you bow your head in resignation. "'Course I'm upset, pipsqueak," he sighed. "It's always hard to leave home, isn't it?"

His voice slowed to a pause, almost as if he could have continued, could have added to his words—but he didn't.

This time, it was your turn to be curious. If Caleb knew your reactions and your habits by heart, then you, too, could say the same about him. And sure enough, the more you studied him, even as he chuckled and turned his head away, the more you took note of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite find a name for.

Still, more than your curiosity, was your growing indignance at his words.

"...Is that it?" You mumbled, hands gripping at the fabric of your nightgown. "It's hard to leave... home. So it's not hard to—"

"Leave you? No, it is, pipsqueak. You are home."

His words caught you off-guard.

He wasn't looking at you when he said it—there was no trace of a blush on his cheeks, on his ears, anywhere—It almost made you doubt the seriousness of it, or why he would say something so... direct. Caleb wasn't usually expressive with you in this way; compliments, yes, but he'd never called you... home, before.

The word lingered weighty in the air.

But in the silence between you, and the more you thought of it, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. "Then—then—!" A frown formed on your face, watching as his eyes turned back to you when you spoke. "Then stay..."

It almost hurt you the way his eyes softened, teasing mirth replaced by a knowing gentleness. His hand edged closer to yours, body leaning ever-so-slightly towards you. "C'mon, pipsqueak... Y'know I can't do that..." he mumbled.

In slow, careful movements, his other hand reached to rest gently on your head, making you suddenly hyperaware of the way his fingernails would graze against the skin of your scalp, running through your hair in a sweet, tender stroke. He'd repeat the same motion, another silence weaving between the two of you, before his hand settled on the side of your face—the ghost of a touch, only barely feeling his palm press against your skin.

You held your breath.

"If I could," he said, "If I could. I'd be back here every week, spend every day with you like back when we were kids."

Feeling yourself slowly melt underneath the tenderness in his gaze, your shoulders relaxed, your grip on your clothing easing slightly. But still, your own eyes drifted to the ground.

Despite all your indignance, despite the terrible, terrible thought of having him go away from you again, you knew what he said was true. Caleb had always cared for you as much as you cared for him—it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that his absence hurt him equally as much, and that he would only put up a front for you, if only to be the solid foundation that he had always been for you, all these years up to this very moment.

Tears brimmed at your eyes, Caleb immediately shifting closer to place both of his hands by the side of your face, wiping them away with little swipes.

"Hey, now. Don't cry on me. You know I'll still be back on my next holidays!"

"But when?" You put in every effort to steady your voice, unwilling for it to waver in front of him, unwilling to let any more tears fall in the most obvious display of desperation for him that you've ever had. "How long will you be gone? Only to stay again for another week or so... Sometimes, you stay even less than a week. I've barely managed to have a proper conversation with you this time, and yet— yet—!"

You sniffled as your bleary eyes settled on his features, leaning into the comforting warmth of his hold. "Ugh," you scolded yourself, though there was no weight in the way that you did. "You... you make me feel like a little kid, Caleb. I'm not even supposed to be this selfish with you."

"Hmm. Aren't you? You've always been a little selfish with me, and if I'm honest, this isn't really too surprising." He chuckled again, and the playfulness in his eyes made a temporary return before he dared to step closer, inching towards your face. "But I don't mind, pipsqueak. 'Cause I miss you just as much, everytime I can't see you."

His words were warm. As warm as the way he looked at you, as warm as the way he held you.

As warm as...

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you, too, dared to step another line into something the two of you had never set foot in—almost closing the distance, almost giving in to the thoughts that probed your mind, almost—

You pressed your forehead against his, the both of you taking a moment to peek into new territory that had been brought out in the open. Your lips, now, were close enough to barely touch. You could see deeply into his eyes like this, too—the way golden flecks of light mixed with saturated, purple hues, and for the first time, you thought, you noticed... Caleb was a lot like the sunsets you would see on your way home.

"What's on your mind, pipsqueak?" He murmured softly, the rasp in his voice revealing to you just how much your actions had caught him off-guard, just how much he was straining not to step a toe out of line from whatever you wanted; whatever this was.

The tension in the air was unmistakable.

You could think; imagine, perhaps, his heartbeat was racing in his chest just as fast as yours was. Perhaps, you would be able to feel it for yourself, if his body was pressed up against yours...

You watched as his gaze drifted down towards your lips, and you flushed at the subtlest indication that he might have the same thoughts as you did.

"Caleb..." you whispered, placing your hand over his, tilting your head slightly to the side and holding him closer against your cheek. "When you're away, do you... Think of me?"

Silence; his eyes never strayed from yours, waiting, observing, attentive and careful to note how you would approach this situation.

"The way that you miss me... What is it like?"

A slow inhale, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ears.

"Hmm, well... Maybe it's exactly in the way you're thinking of, right now."

"And... What would that be?"

"...Dunno, pipsqueak. What would it be?"

You smiled, seeing the flicker of a challenge in his eyes, but recognizing there to be equal parts of caution, still watching, waiting, waiting for you to make your move.

"Would you stop me?" You said finally, slowly draping your arm over his shoulder. "If I moved a little closer now, and then we'd..."

It was your turn to glance at his lips, so close to you, yet so far, almost blurry and out of focus with your proximity. You could feel his steady breaths against your face, and he didn't answer you. Instead, he took your words as his own confirmation, breaking the boundary, tilting his head as he captured your lips into a soft, gentle kiss.

He moved his lips slowly against yours, hands trailing down your face, down your back, settling on your waist—and then he pulled away, half-lidded eyes examining you closely. One beat, two—Caleb pushed you gently against the sheets, pressing close and flush against your body, his heartbeat racing in time with yours just as you had hoped it to.

"You... mean this, pipsqueak?" He breathed.

"...Do I lie that often to you? The reason I miss you so much, the reason I so badly want you to stay... Did you think it was because of whatever childish attachment I've had to you from the start?"

He nearly scoffed.

"Oh, what. And you're gonna call me oblivious? Like I don't see the way you look at me? Like I don't see the way you melt?"

This time you gasped, and a smirk played at his lips—his lips, ones that had kissed you just seconds prior. "You—! That's—!"

"I've known aaallll along, pipsqueak. But you've never had plans on acting on your feelings, right? So I'm just asking, 'cause... I don't want you to regret what we're doing."

Though feeling the weight of embarrassment begin to swirl in your stomach, your eyes softened.

Ah, you thought, he's always so considerate.

"What..." You searched his eyes, "What are we doing? What is this, then?"

"...You could think of it as me making it up to you..." Caleb spoke slowly. "Well, whatever this is, I could kiss you here for hours—easy."

You felt the heat rise back up to your cheeks—

"—Oorr..." He smiled, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "If you want a more detailed memory to keep you company while I'm gone, I could do even more than that. But your call, of course."

Immediately you understood what he was implying, and the mere thought of it turned you completely red in the face, pushing him away with a gasp.

"Caleb!" You cried out, and beside you, he laughed.

"Guess that's a no, then? Ah, well. No biggie, I could wait another few months or so. C'mere, and I'll—"

"N-no! I... I didn't mean it like that."

You cut him off quickly, chewing on the inside of your lip, and he raised an eyebrow.

"No? So what'd you mean, then?" Caleb reached out his hand for you to take, gently tracing his fingers over the skin of your palm.

"I... I'm up for it," you said, after a moment. "I mean... I don't mind. If you... If you wanna—do—what you were—"

You couldn't complete your sentence, and he squeezed your hand, another chuckle escaping his lips. "You would, huh? Have sex with me?"

His blatant admission had you burning, immediately pulling away once more to cover your face. "God, Caleb! Don't just say it like that!"

"Hey! I gotta be sure, don't I? Who knows if we were thinking different things?"

"But—! If you say it out loud, it sounds...! Embarrassing!"

"What, that I want to have sex with you?"

You could hear the infuriating melody of amusement in his voice, clearly pleased at your flustered reaction, clearly enjoying this mental torture on you like he always did.

"Caleb..." You whined at the sound of his laughter, peeking through your fingers just enough to let him see your pout.

"Alright, alright! I'll stop!" He grinned. "...But seriously, though. It doesn't matter too much that I've been waiting, I can wait a little longer if you're not ready yet. 'Cause honestly? I'm just happy enough like this already."

Like... This?

Your mind drifted to his kiss, his soft, plush lips mingling with your own. It had lasted barely a few seconds, but even the mere thought of it made you weak. The mere thought of holding him—doing more—having him love you, tender as always, in ways that he had never before. You'd fantasized about it, sure. Undeniably. Sometimes you would sit in one of his hoodies, flushing at his scent and the way that you could easily reach down to touch yourself in it—

You never did, out of the mere fear that you would never be able to look him in the eyes if you did.

But now, his own feelings, his own desires, lay just within your reach. No matter how scary it was to dive into such a foreign, indiscernible place of your relationship... You've never had him closer to you, and you didn't want to let go of that feeling.

So with a shy gaze, you closed the gap between the both of you once more, kissing at his neck and feeling each shudder of his body zap straight down to your core. "It's okay," you mumbled, "I think... I'd rather not wait, either."

In a flurry of movements, you were back against his pillows, his body above you and arms and legs tangled in a passionate embrace. Unlike earlier, each kiss upon your lips had you gasping your air—almost starved as he mouthed at you, almost desperate to explore every curve of your skin in a way you didn't know he ever could be.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, panting as he pulled away, fingers slowly gliding beneath your nightgown, tracing circles over your stomach. "I'm actually, actually touching you like this."

"Unbelievable?" You scoffed, turning your head to the side. "I should be the one saying that. Having you touch me like this..."

He smiled. And then slowly, his hands traveled up your skin, bunching the silken fabric of your nightwear up and above your breasts. You saw him draw in a shaky breath, a tremble in the way he stroked your skin—"Oh, fuck," he whispered, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Seriously, it's like a miracle, shit..."

"...Caleb, are you going to just tease?" You frowned, feeling vulnerable in the way he stared. Your body remained mostly exposed, revealed to him in a way that had him frozen with having never seen you so naked before.

But Caleb licked his lips, feeling them dry at the mere sight of you.

"Oh, baby, I wish."

There was a raspiness in his voice as he moved to yank down his sweatpants, chest heaving in the way he tried so hard to control his breaths.

Baby, he called you, and you could have sworn you let out a whine, the new nickname striking a chord inside of you more than you ever expected it to.

"I— shit. I really wanna take my time with you... Give you a whole experience you can think of 'til I get back, but you—"

A sense of urgency overtook him, and his hands were back on you, tracing your thighs, trailing up to press at your panties and nearly groaning at the patch of wetness he could feel.

You drew in a sharp breath.

"...Damn. It looks like I won't be able to keep my composure, not when I've thought about this moment for as long as I can remember."

His hand was pulling your underwear down within seconds, leaving your lower halves bare and exposed. The tip of his cock was wet with pre-cum, the sheer length of it having you momentarily speechless.

"W-wait, you're not—?!" A hint of panic rose in your voice as you sat up against the headboard, but he gently pushed you back down, towering over you.

"It'll fit," he spoke, matter-of-factly, reaching down to swipe at your cunt before bringing his hand up to your face. That smirk was there again, the tease in his eyes ever-present despite his promise not to leave you feeling unfair for too long. "You're crazy wet, pipsqueak. I think I'll slide in just fine."

His words brought a dangerous sting to your cheeks, feeling yourself clench around nothing, eyeing the slick that coated his fingers from a single swipe.

If, you thought, if he had those fingers inside of me, I wonder how deeply he would reach...

He leaned down to kiss you, almost as if reading your thoughts. "Not now," he murmured. "Maybe later. Maybe next time, when I get back."

You frowned. "Don't... don't talk about leaving when we're like this..."

"Baby—"

"No, Caleb. If I'm going to remember this moment, I am not going to think of it as the night before you go away again!"

Amusement flashed through his eyes, and the tip of his cock brushed lightly against your entrance, coating your clit with your wetness.

"Alright, I digress," he grinned. "But it's not an if, right? You will remember—and then you can busy yourself with the feeling of it whenever you need to. It's the whole point."

"...Busy myself?! What do you think you're—"

Your words were lost into a gaping moan, feeling his cock stretch at your walls, heat and pleasure coarsing through your veins in sharp, quick bursts.

"Fuuuuckkkk." He groaned from the throat, your hazy eyes making out the way he grit his teeth, his own eyes shut tightly as he pushed into you, all the way up to your hilt, gripping the headboard in ragged pants. "So..." he breathed, "So damn tight."

"Y-you're just—ngh—so big—"

It was almost as if he were intent on rendering you utterly speechless, barely giving you time to time to adjust before he was snapping his hips into yours. Every movement had him filling you up, thrusting into you balls deep, hips moving quickly, rhythmically, splitting you open with ease.

"W-Wai—iit— a-aahh—" Your back arched in raw pleasure, submitting to every ounce of desire that poured out of him. "Shit!" You cursed, head thrown back into his pillow. "So fast—Y-you're so fast—"

He only let out a hum of a moan in response, eyes finally opening, hands shifting to grab onto yours and pin them right up above your head.

"Oh, fuck— Caleb—!"

"Good," he rasped. "So wet, so tight, so—haah—so good—"

You clamp down tightly around him, greedily sucking his length in with the steady pulse of your cunt, moans breaking, body squirming under his grasp and the lustful heat of his gaze.

"Oh, god—sorry, baby, I can't—" Caleb's pace seemed to stutter with the way you clenched around him, pounding into you more erratically, cockhead hitting the spot that had you jolting. "You're too perfect, you're exactly how i've imagined—"

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you struggled to wring your hands free from his grasp, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him closer. And Caleb remained attentive despite his obvious euphoria, releasing your hands and leaning down close to you, grunts with every pump of his cock, almost needy for your heat.

The feeling was too much.

He was fucking you, and you couldn't think straight—you'd opened your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were spilling his name in ways you wouldn't have done otherwise.

"I love you, Caleb, I love you, I love you, I love y—nnh—leb— haah— I love you, Caleb—!"

It didn't take long after that for him to twitch in your cunt, and your walls fluttered around him, locking him in place as he stilled, spilling inside of you enough to have you leaking. It was enough to edge out a release of your own, and you trembled in his embrace, bodies locked in perpetual ecstasy.

And he was right, you would remember it.

Every slide of his cock against your walls, you'd remember it—and, with a pang, you realized... you'd long for it.

"...You're so cruel," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss at your jawline, slowly pulling out of you and collapsing beside you with a sigh.

"Hmm, wow. First, an I love you without warning, and now I'm the cruel one?" He laughed softly beside you. "Was I too hard? Sorry, pipsqueak, you're much too—"

"I love you, Caleb." Your mind much clearer after your high, you repeated your words, albeit shy enough to still turn over and snuggle into his chest. "Just... how am I supposed to miss you like this?"

He reached over to put his arm around you, stroking your hair lovingly. "...Miss me...?" he spoke slowly, almost as if choosing his words with care. "It won't be for too long, pipsqueak, swear."

"But you don't even—"

He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. "I mean, that's partly why we fucked, right? It should keep you busy enough while we wait. Now you have something more accurate to touch yourself to, and, hey—I wouldn't stop you!"

You had indeed come to a similar conclusion, but hearing him say it out loud like that had you looking up with a halfhearted glare.

"...Caleb, you're filthy!" You huffed.

But you both knew well that your words didn't amount to much, and he chuckled, poking your temple.

"Okay, okay. How about... Just to make sure you won't be too sad, we can have another round in the morning?"

"Caleb!"

He smiled. "...I love you, too, pipsqueak."

The warmth of his words, blending in with his familiar, most precious nickname for you, had you easily forgetting whatever trepidations you had in your heart. Maybe, you thought, whatever came with this new door in your relationship was worth it—especially if you could be in his arms the way you were now, listening closely to the lull of his heartbeat.

『 I can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away; I hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay. 』

⁺₊ / an: ouh this req prompt couldve gone soooooo many ways and it was so hard to decide!! the word count proves i love him almost as much as xavier, but i also owe it to caleb x mc being so "treacherous" by taylor swift coded, and i will die on this hill!!!!!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[poisonlove]

We can't be friends | w.a

Request @ortegalvr

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

Warning: Fluffy, Sad

Belladonna

The belladonna plant, also known as Atropa belladonna, is notorious for being poisonous, but some of its chemicals can be used in medicine to treat certain conditions, as in traditional medicine. However, its use requires extreme caution and medical supervision due to its toxicity.

I scrunch up my nose and look at the words in our herbology book with confusion. I had to do thorough research on poisonous plants and any potential benefits they might bring, so I decided to take advantage of this research time at the Weathervane.

"Here's your macchiato," I raise my head from the book and see the barista. The brown-eyed, curly-haired guy gives me a small smile. "Thank you," I return the smile and notice him walking back to the counter, wiping some cups.

I sigh audibly and sip the coffee, closing my eyes to the delicious flavor. It wasn't Italian, but it was still good, less watery than I imagined. I lick my lower lip and return my eyes to my notes, tapping the pen on the paper, thinking of some other poisonous plant.

I needed to get a good grade.

The sound of the bell in the shop marks someone's arrival, and I look up curiously, seeing a familiar figure. A sensation of chill runs through my body, my heart pounding frantically against my chest.

I couldn't move.

Wednesday Addams was accompanied by a girl, a blonde with colorful highlights. The blonde was smiling broadly and chatting with the brunette, who was looking at her with her usual apathetic gaze. Wednesday was wearing an all-black school uniform, her unmistakable braids hanging over her shoulders.

Her eyes flick in my direction, and I feel my shoulders slump, my eyes softening as I look at Wednesday after so many years. Wednesday seemed surprised to see me, but she didn't show it. Her posture remained perfect, no hint of shock or surprise, just her eyes staring into mine as if trying to read something in them.

The blonde, noticing where Wednesday was looking, leans towards her, probably asking who I was, interrupting the staring contest that had developed between me and her. "I didn't know you knew anyone here in Jericho," is the only thing I manage to catch from their dialogue, and I lower my head to the table, playing with my hands.

It was a habit I had when I was nervous and embarrassed, which was plausible considering it's been years since I've seen little Addams. "Wed, are you okay?" the blonde asks again, two tables away from me. I purse my lips, feeling bitterness in my mouth at the nickname she gave her.

Wed? Now you're letting her call you by my nickname? I thought bitterly.

I sigh audibly and turn my attention back to my assignment, trying to ignore the conversations between the blonde and Wednesday, even though the latter barely spoke. I unconsciously smile, knowing it was just like her to behave this way.

Let's say that every time we went out together, I was the one who talked the most of the two, the brunette just looked at me without blinking, her deer-like eyes watching me with curiosity as I talked and talked. It made me smile and shiver at the same time to be watched with such intensity, but Wednesday loved listening to me talk, she always said she liked my voice

Oleander... Poison... Wednesday.

I knew perfectly well that Wednesday loved this kind of thing, studying every kind of weapon or poisonous plant, a passion her mother passed on to her. But this connection came to mind only now seeing Addams' figure.

I raise my gaze, unconsciously looking at the girl who was my downfall, the love of my life... A girl I still think could be mine. I see her talking to the blonde, smiling shyly, almost imperceptibly at her words.

Apparently, she can understand you, right?

Because I'm different from her, right?

"No! You can't understand! I don't want to hurt you," Wednesday's voice suddenly rises, looking at me seriously.

"But..." I start, feeling tears welling up in my eyes.Wednesday turns her back on me and walks towards the entrance of my room, her hand on the doorknob, her back rigid.

"We can't keep seeing each other, I don't want to see you anymore," her voice lowers again, a cold chill creeping into my bones.

"You're leaving me?" I whisper, looking at the brunette in disbelief. Wednesday doesn't even hint at turning around, her shoulders slumping as she opens the door.

"Wed," I say timidly, my voice breaking as tears threaten to fall. Addams tightly grips the doorknob, her posture still perfect.

"Don't be pathetic, y/n... You're smarter than this," she says with such coldness that it leaves me stunned. After this sentence, Wednesday walks through the door of my room, leaving my house and my life.

It's been 3 years since that moment, and I still shiver at the memory.

I clench my jaw tightly, trying to suppress the anger and pain I still feel, as I delve into my assignment, trying to find comfort in the pages of the book.

"What do you want to order, Wed?" asks a high-pitched voice. I look at the paper while waiting for her rather obvious response.

"Iced espresso," Wednesday replies neutrally.

Her favorite, I know.

Apparently, she still liked the coffee I made her try at my house during our first study project.

Umm... What can I offer you?" I ask nervously as I watch the brunette marveling around my kitchen. Wednesday touches my microwave and looks at it closely.

"What do you have?" she asks spontaneously, her voice small but determined.

"I asked you for a reason, don't you think?" I chuckle timidly, smiling at Addams' strangeness. Wednesday didn't seem like a very... Simple girl, indeed, she had a morbid sense of humor and a loyalty to the color black.

Wednesday gazes into my eyes, making me blush at their intensity. Black eyes stare into mine without blinking, whether curious or annoyed, I still don't know.

"What's that?" she points to the coffee machine, and I blink incredulously.

"You really don't know what it is?" I ask in surprise, and she tilts her head sideways, analyzing me with her gaze.

"It's a coffee machine... Do you want to try my family's famous iced espresso?" I ask proudly, my eyes lighting up with excitement.

The corners of Addams' mouth lift, and she timidly nods her head.

I shake my head and try to focus, a solitary tear rolling down my cheek before falling onto the book. I clench my jaw and try not to cry. Focus on the task.

Don't be weak, don't be pathetic

"Enid, can you hurry up and finish the frappé? It's almost writing time," Wednesday asks with a hint of irritation, earning a glare from what I now know is called Enid.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch their interaction, Wednesday's black eyes pointing towards my direction again. I look away towards her features: high cheekbones, full lips, a stoic but incredibly attractive gaze. Wednesday remains motionless, staring at me, and I surrender to her gaze, starting to pack up my things to put them in my backpack.

The memory of our first date...

We were in the dark room of Wednesday's house, enveloped by the tense and mysterious atmosphere of a horror movie playing on the big screen. Sitting on the couch, I was completely immersed in the plot, but every now and then a shiver of terror would make me jump.

I felt the tension building inside me as the scenes became increasingly eerie. My hands were clenched into fists on my knees, and my heart was beating so fast I feared it might burst from my chest, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen.

Suddenly, a particularly scary scene materialized on the screen, and I couldn't hold back a small scream of terror. Without hesitation, Wednesday grabbed my hand firmly, surprising me with her quick action.

The touch of her hand on mine made me jump, but immediately I felt a sense of calm spreading inside me. Her fingers were cold, but the grip was comforting, as if she wanted to protect me from the terror surrounding usI looked at Wednesday with gratitude, finding comfort in her dark and deep eyes.

She didn't say a word, but her simple gesture spoke more than a thousand words. In that moment, I understood that I wasn't alone, that she was there with me, ready to support me.

So, with Wednesday's hand in mine, I faced the rest of the movie with a renewed sense of courage, knowing that no matter how terrifying it was, I could overcome it with her by my side.

Our first kiss, which happened later that evening.

Wednesday and I locked eyes, a silence filled with tension and emotion enveloping the room.

Our gaze met, and I could sense the same uncertainty I felt.Then, slowly, Wednesday leaned towards me, her eyes fixed on mine with intensity. My heart was pounding so hard I feared it might burst, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from her.

Her lips brushed against mine cautiously, as if she was afraid of hurting me. I felt the warmth of her breath on my face, and a shiver ran down my spine as I leaned in closer to her. Our first kiss was a moment of pure enchantment, a whirlwind of overwhelming emotions.

Wednesday's lips were soft and warm against mine, and the contact was so intense that for a moment it seemed like the world around us stopped.

An onslaught of memories overwhelms me, making me feel vulnerable. My heart breaks at the memories of what we were, of what we shared.

I feel like that flood of memories could easily drive me to madness, but I don't want to feed this monstrous fire. I just want to let this story die, and I'll be alright.

"Shit," I whisper, clenching my jaw tightly.

I stand up from the chair, and the cup near me falls to the ground, attracting the attention of the others. Tyler, the barista, walks over to me and crouches down to pick up the broken pieces. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I say with concern. "It's okay, accidents happen," he says, smiling kindly.

My eyes glance at Wednesday, and I see her turn her head upon hearing the noise. The blonde next to her continues to drink her frappé, unfazed by the events. Wednesday keeps looking at me in a strange way, her eyes... Glassy. They're kind. Her body invites me to approach and I freeze at the thought of standing just a few steps away from her, face to face.

Maybe she wants to talk and sort things out?

Be friends?

I purse my lips and break the eye contact between us. I grab the backpack with my assignments inside and look at Tyler with concern, who smiles broadly at me.

I give him a small smile and leave the shop, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

We can't be friends, there are too many feelings.

But I'd like to just pretend, maybe one day not too far away I'll be able to.

But a part of me... Wait until you like me again.

[authorhjk1]

Surviving NNN

Part Six: Lost

Karina rests her head against the shower wall. The warm water hits her back and shoulders, before cascading down her frame. She presses her cheek against the cold tiles as she tries to make herself climax. Her right hand is inbetween her legs, while the left is planted against the wall.

She was in a constant state of horniness throughout this month, knowing that her boyfriend is living together with three of her friends. Karina tried not to touch herself, but she has finally reached her braking point. And what broke her? As you expected, the song about your night together makes Karina's eyes roll to the back of her head as she gets herself off in the hotel room shower.

Her moans are not audible underneath the shower. But her shaking body is more evidence one needs to figure out what's going on. Your mini album just came out. Because it's a small one and not long after your last comeback, there is no MV. Partially because it would be weird to shoot one, if the woman in it is not Karina.

As soon as she heard the song, your girlfriend couldn't help herself any longer. She missed your touch over the last weeks, her mind drawn to you whenever she is not completely busy.

Karina cums on her own fingers, thinking about that night. Thinking about the three girls that are with you. Thinking about the first day of December.

Two days before:

You look at Minju, at the screen of your TV, and back to Minju.

"What is going on?"

You swear you have never seen her cheeks turn this pink. Her eyes are darker than usual, while they avoid your gaze. Her right hand is underneath a blanket, while her left is playing nervously with its hem.

"This-This is not what it looks like."

She closes her eyes, knowing you wouldn't belive her. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to seduce you. Not get caught by you, while having half of your TV remote stuffed inside her needy snatch.

"I-I just got myself a glass of water and stopped the video. I was about to play it now."

"But why are you watching my stuff?"

She does look suspicious to you.

"I just watched Dreamcatcher's new comeback and this was next on the algorithm."

"Oh, alright."

You play dumb, knowing what's going on. There is no way that a performance video of yours is played right after Dreamcatcher's new MV. And Minju's hand underneath the blanket must be doing more than just holding the remote. But you let her be, flattered that she is actually getting off to you. You don't confront her, kmowing that it might lead to your own downfall.

Present:

Unbeknownst to you, two of the four girls have already failed the challenge. Chaewon and Karina. Minju got interrupted by you and got back to her senses. Yena has been holding out quite well so far. Until she blindly walks into your room.

Iit is night and Yena confused your door with hers as she came back from the bathroom. She is now standing in the doorframe, looking at you sleeping. You must have thrown off your blanket in the middle of the night, since its lying right next to you. Yena is enjoying the view of your mostly naked body, before she catches herself staring.

She shakes her head, dismissing the idea that just creeped into her mind. She is about to turn around, when she hears you groan quietly in your sleep. The deep sound makes Yena stay. She has been trying to resist her need for release since you let her listen to your songs.

She doesn't move for a couple of moments, thinking about what she should do.

Oh fuck it. Might as well try.

Yena slowly walks towards your bed, before kneeling onto the edge. She does her best to not touch your legs as she scoots closer towards your core. Her eyes are on your underwear, the outlines of your cock barely visible under the moonlight.

She licks her lips, before trying to take off your boxers. Which isn't as easy as it seems, since you don't move your hips. The only thing Yena can do is pull down your waistband.

Her eyes grow wide when she sees your cock in real life. Karina's picture was nice and all. But up close your cock looks even better. Bigger.

She hesistantly gives your tip a kiss, testing the waters. When she sees no reaction, Yena opens, her mouth, ready to suck your cock. Her lips wrap around your tip, both of her hands slightly pulling your waistband down. Yena closes her eyes as she relishes in the feeling of your cock in her mouth. This might be cheating. But if she can make you cum like this... Her lips form a smile around your dick as she starts to slowly bob her head.

The new sensation of Yena's blowjob changes up your dreams a little. It makes them more sexual. You start to dream of the three girls,giving you head, as Karina rides your face. Unbeknownst to you, the wetness you feel around your cock is real.

Until Yena stops. Her hair keeps getting in the way. She lets your cock slip out of her mouth, letting it fall onto your stomach. She slowly lets go of your boxers, before reaching for her wrist. She takes off the hair band, before starting to put her pink hair into a poytail. She licks her lips as she ties her hair back.

After tugging a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Yena gets right back at it. Like before, she pulls down the waistband of your boxers with two hands. Her mouth kisses along the length of your shaft, before she takes it into her mouth, lifting your cock off your stomach. She tries to stay silent as she continues her work, but can't help an occasional hum.

Her eyes grow wide when she hears footsteps behind her. Yena is unable to turn her head, without letting your cock fall out, so she doesn't see who it is. But when she sees a hand wrap around the lower half of your shaft, she hears Chaewon's voice in her ear.

"Let me have a taste, you slut."

Yena slightly shakes her head, Your cock still inside her mouth. It makes you move, the dream you are having becoming hotter and hotter. The two girls hold their breath, hoping you didn't wake up.

"You have to share."

Chaewon whines, trying to get Yena off your cock. At this rate she might make you cum in your sleep. But that doesn't count, right? She tries to push the older girl away. Yena stands her ground, but Chaewon doesn't give up. Instead of pushing her away, she starts to kiss the lower half of your cock.

Although competing, the two girls work in tandem. When Yena takes more into her mouth, Chaewon kisses towards your base. When Yena almost lets your tip fall out of her mouth, Chaewon kisses upwards, as far as she is able to go.

The two girls suddenly hear a thud in the living room. Their eyes grow wide. Not wanting to get caught, they silently jump off your bed. Yena closes the door behind her, before the two girls run back to their room.

The sound of the door closing makes you stir awake. You had a great dream. You suddenly feel kinda odd. Your cock feels...wet. What the hell? Was the dream too good? Did you actually cum in your sleep?

You get out of the bed as you feel the urge to use the bathroom. The watermelon right before bed was a bad idea.

Walking through the living room, you stop as your gaze finds Minju, lying on the mattress.

Her blanket is only covering the upper part of her body, which is good for your attempt to last through this month, because you don't see a bra srap on Minju's shoulders.

But her lower half pushes you close nonetheless. She isn't wering pajamas. Only a red, high waisted thong is covering her center. Her cheeks aren't covered at all and you have to use all your discipline to not reach down and take a handful. The waistband is covered with small sparkling stones. You can only read a couple of letters, but realize that it says "Victoria Secret". Karina has one or two of those. You never really expected Minji to wear stuff like this. She always struck you as an innocent, coy girl.

As soon as you shut the bathroom door behind you, Minju starts to move. How did this not work? How are you able to walk past her after not nutting for almost a whole month? Minju grows frustrated with you and herself, ready to use her last option.

She doesn't even think about the possibility that you would never cheat on Karina. She turns around, now lying on her back. She doesn't want to make it too obvious, because that might lead to the wrong reaction on your part. Minju decides to keep her top half covered. But she furiously starts to rub her clit over her panties. Her goal? To create a big wet spot on her panties, before you come back out.

When she hears you use the sink, she feels the wet fabric over her pussy. It was almost too easy to make herself wet and almost too hard to stop. The excitment of the chance to get to fuck you in the next couple of minutes makes Minju sigh. She closes her eyes again as she sees the light in the bathroom turn off.

You step out of the room, seeing Minju now lying on her back. Even with barely any light at all, the wet spot on her thong is visible. You grow hard at the sight. It would be too easy to...

You shake your head. You would never cheat on Karina.

Minju hears you leaving. Without thinking, she starts to whisper.

"Oh, oppa. That feels so good."

Your heart stops as you turn around. Minju's brows are furrowed as she rubs her thighs together.

"How do you even fit in me?"

Another moan makes you even harder. You step forward. Your mind on the edge of breaking.

You have held out for almost a month without cuming now. You have a feeling that the three girls keep trying to make you fail. Or even try to get you to fuck them. Does Karina know about this? Did she plan this? That ridiculous thought enters your head. No way. Karina would never want to see you with another woman. Right? She never talked about something like this.

And here you are. Now towering over Minju as the young woman pretends to have a wet dream about you. Her occasional moans make you want to pound her hard.

"Inside of me. Breed me."

[kingcael]

Follow up question about Downfall piece-

Can you take us through how you developed the composition? This question extends a bit to the Calamity piece (and other non-CR pieces).

How do you approach a very structured composition while maintaining the organic shapes that make up the forms?

and

How do you balance and maintain character personalities when (theoretically) you have so many choices dictated by composition?

For both the Calamity and Downfall pieces the key to the composition was firstly character relationship, and then character personality afterwards. Knowing the way the characters interact informs the placement of them in a multi person composition like this.

In the Calamity piece, it’s littered with all kinds of parallel and perpendicular lines in the composition to show both the unification of the Ring of Brass, and then the internal conflicts that arise. Laerryn and Loquatious’ relationship is one of my fav part of this one, with Loquatious emulating a fallen angel, a Fey in love with a mortal, and Laerryn looking forward with ambition while still reaching back to his heart.

In the Downfall piece there’s less obvious alignment since their relationships were much more tumultuous, but with a lot more interaction between them, the Arch Heart is the most detached as I felt his perceptions were the most isolated among the family. Trist holding both Ayden and the Emissary in a motherly way is one of my favourite parts. In this one I tried to make them more merged together, the Calamity piece has the characters more separate and realised, where the Downfall piece has them more fused together with less obvious edges.

In terms of this type of character and composition study, it really speaks to my natural inclination of art, I’ve been told before my subjects are static and frozen but my shadows are alive, and I’ve pretty much leaned into it, freezing the interactions into a single image to observe while have subtle nods to personalities of character. When doing a big piece with the characters frozen and representing themselves to the fullest degree, even the slightest change like a hand on a shoulder or the tilt of the head can inform a lot about the character while also strengthening the composition.

In bare bones composition terms I do love the triangle, especially for these big group shots, I also try to not have any characters head be exactly at the same height as another’s, unless they’re completely aligned in thoughts, which is why Trist and Ayden are so close. I also do a lot of eye tracking checks, like taking special care to notice what path my eyes take and if it remains consistent upon every viewing, zooming out is very good for this. I control the eye tracking in a fairly apparent way, face to arm to hand/object is usually the path, notably Nydas’ sword in the Calamity picture leads directly from his conflict with Zerxus to Laerryn, and her hand leads to Loquatious.

Haha I do go on

[fandomsimagined]

Don't Go Dark - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Title: Don't Go Dark

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Female!Reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker realizes that he has feelings for his healer.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: What you could expect from Six of Crows

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kaz, so if it's out of character, I apologize. I kind of gave up and phoned it in at the end so if you can tell, I'm sorry. Very loosely inspired by the song Don't Go Dark by Bleachers.

For most of his life, Kaz Brekker called the Barrel home–despite the fact that there was really nothing homey about it–and there was one thing that he knew for certain about the dreadful place: that it always had a tendency to contort even the purest of things into something nasty. No one was good-natured for the sake of it. If someone was kind, it was usually a ploy, as he very well knew. That was one of his first lessons in survival. Love was a weakness that oftentimes had disastrous consequences. The only thing to come from the Barrel was carnage. The currency was blood, and he’d paid his share and then some with his own, and with others. Only the most ruthless and ungodly people prospered, and prosper he did. 

Believe it or not, he did remember the short life he had before the Barrel. He remembered his father and their farm, and he remembered after his father died when Jordie sold the farm with the promise that they would find fortune in Ketterdam. That was when he’d learned the most valuable lesson that there was to learn. That the only person he could truly count on was himself. To love nothing and trust no one. If he loved nothing, then there was nothing to be used against him. Nothing that anyone could take from him. It got lonely, but it had kept him alive for this long, a feat not many accomplished, so that was how he lived. 

She was different. She didn’t live under the same guise of violence as the rest of Ketterdam. She didn’t have the same mentality: that things can always–and most likely will–get worse. She didn’t hold grudges. Not like Kaz did. Kaz was fueled by vengeance and spite. He took whatever was thrown at him in stride with the knowledge that he would find vindication by dealing a much harsher punishment. 

The winter chill bit to the bone, an unfortunate truth for Kaz especially, whose bones were already not in well-working order. His limp was more pronounced as he made his way to his office (formerly Haskell’s). The Dregs were still bustling about, doing Saints knows what, but none would bother him. It was late, the state of his face was less pristine than when he’d left, and his permanent scowl was even more noticeable than usual. No, they would leave him be.

The meeting with the Razorgulls had gone as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. They weren’t too happy to see him, still holding a grudge over Pekka Rollins’ quite unfortunate downfall. They’d landed a couple of punches, but he always had the upper hand, and they were smart enough when it was over to abandon Fifth Harbor entirely.

His office door was slightly ajar, something that didn’t bode well. He knew that the healer would be waiting for him, but she was never so careless to leave the door open, as there were quite a few documents and collectibles that he preferred to keep away from the other Dregs. 

He pushed the rickety door open and immediately he could feel that something was off. She was sitting in the extra wooden chair that he kept there (mostly for her and Jesper since he rarely gave anyone else the privilege to stay in his office for long periods). He sat in his desk chair, his gloved fingers thumbing through the papers that he’d left. Nothing important, just something to keep him occupied. 

Kaz Brekker noticed everything; meaning that Kaz Brekker noticed her trembling hands, though she tried to disguise it by keeping them folded in her lap. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that she’d tried to hide, and he noticed that she was jumpier than usual. Something had happened, that much was obvious, but he wouldn’t push. If she wanted to talk, she would, otherwise, it was none of his concern. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the mere idea of anything happening to her.

“Again? Kaz, you really should be more careful.” It was no surprise that she was born a healer. It was quite literally in her nature to be caring. She was born to fix things. 

“Why? If I were to die tomorrow, all of Ketterdam would breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe even cheers to the occasion,” Kaz scoffed. It sounded grim, but it meant that he was good at what he did, so he saw it as an honor of sorts. He was in control.

“I wouldn’t.” She frowned. She moved to stand above him, getting leverage so she could properly heal his face. Her lips were pursed in concentration as her fingers hovered over a gash on his cheek. It was a strange feeling. It was like he could feel the skin stitching back together as she worked. It was like an itch. “I quite like having you around.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Kaz raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you getting at? A raise?” 

“Oh please, why would I even bother trying to flatter you?” She rolled her eyes. “Not when I know all I have to do is compliment Jesper’s hat, give him a few kruge to gamble away, and he’ll talk you into whatever I want.”

“And here I thought that you were too soft for the Barrel.” Kaz smirked. 

“I’m serious, what are you going to do if I’m not around to fix you up?” 

He thought about the statement carefully. The implication of the words. That was the confirmation he needed to push for further information. She’d opened the door. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” Maybe that’s why she was acting so strange. She seemed like the type to get all weepy about leaving. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea himself. It would be harrowing work trying to find a new healer. Especially a trustworthy one, but he wouldn’t stop her if that’s what she wanted. He just wouldn’t pretend to be happy about either.

“No!” She exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not.” Her quick response and furrowed brow were a relief. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. Not yet, anyway. 

“Well, if you’re not planning on leaving, then I suppose I don’t have to worry about it then, do I?” Kaz spoke bluntly, though he supposed if she listened close enough, she would hear the twinge of satisfaction hidden beneath. It was selfish. Ketterdam was a grim place, but he didn’t want her to leave. She made it a little less grim. 

Her fingers moved eloquently, drifting over his broken nose, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It did him well not to think about how close she was to him. It would probably send him into fight-or-flight mode if he did. 

He winced as he felt the bone setting back into place. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, though he wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to the damn itch that plagued the area as she was working her magic. That wasn’t what bothered him, though. What bothered him was that she hadn’t spoken again, something that was quite unlike her. Normally she would be scolding him or telling him all about whatever had happened at the Crow Club that afternoon. No, she hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t provided any elaboration to her previous statement. 

“Is everything alright?” He pressed further. If it was anyone else, he would’ve left it be. A problem for another day, but this wasn’t anyone else. 

“No… I mean…” She started and paused, turning to face the wall to her side as if avoiding looking at him. He was relieved that she wasn’t planning on leaving the Dregs just yet, but there was something bothering her and he couldn’t deny being slightly concerned about what it was. Had something happened at the club while he was gone? Surely one of the others downstairs would have mentioned something to him when he walked in if it had. But, there was no way to be sure. 

She turned back to face him, taking a shaky breath as if trying to figure out what to say. “This afternoon while I was on my way to the club, a man grabbed me. Put a knife to my throat and said that if I didn’t give him all of my kruge, then he would slit my throat, watch me bleed out, and then take it all anyways. It wasn’t even much, just seventeen, but he was willing to kill me for it.” He clenched his jaw as she recounted the story. He wouldn’t interrupt, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already plotting on what he would do when he found the bastard. She reached up to fiddle with the necklace chain that she always wore, but it was missing. He’d taken her locket too.

“I was sure he would kill me even if I gave it to him, I saw his face for Saints’ sake, but I just… It made me think about if something had happened to me, then who would be here to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed? I mean, you’ve almost done it several times with me here and I’m one of the best healers in Kerch, not to pat myself on the back or anything…” She was one of the best healers in Kerch. That was why he’d recruited her in the first place, and that was why she was under his protection. Though, he thought that she might’ve been exaggerating. He was pretty sure, he only almost died twice, and only once was his fault. 

“Who was it?” Kaz said through gritted teeth. It was unlikely that it was anyone from a rival gang. It wasn’t a secret that she was associated with the Dregs and they weren’t stupid. Pulling a stunt like that would start a war, especially since it was in Fifth Harbor. That was his territory. No, the only one that bold would be the Dime Lions, but they would’ve killed her to send a message. This was probably some random person off of the street if he had to guess. Looking for a quick buck, so they thought why not steal it? What they didn’t know was that they’d stolen it from the wrong woman. 

“Kaz-”

“Who was it?” He repeated. 

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, that I might not be here next time you decide to go and get yourself all bloodied up, and what if it’s more serious next time?” He didn’t like the way that she was talking so casually about the prospect of dying. Like it was inevitable, and she was making her final arrangements before she went. 

“Listen to me carefully. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it.” It was a statement not a question. He would make sure to get the message across that not only was she associated with the Dregs, but she was under the protection of Dirtyhands himself, and he would make sure to send a very clear warning as to what would happen should anyone get the bright idea to lay a finger on his crew again. 

“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Kaz. We all know it’s only a matter of time. People like me don’t make it very long  here. I’m not strong, or smart, or resourceful enough…” Her eyes were glassy, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He was confused. None of those things could have been farther from the truth. She may have been soft, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart or strong. She had to be strong to have put up with him for so long. He wasn’t known to be the most facile person in the world. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice was gravelly. It was rough. In fact, he’d often heard it described as the voice of a demon, or the devil himself. There was nothing soothing about it, yet he saw her shoulders slump in what seemed to be relief. That even though the Saints had never looked out for her, he would. 

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. That was that. There was nothing left to be said. He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. He lied, he stole, he killed, but he didn’t break his promises. And there wasn’t a promise that he ever intended to keep more than that one. 

She silently worked on mending the split on his cheek. The Razorgulls had gotten a couple of good shots in. More than he thought, and he was starting to feel it, though he wouldn’t for long. 

“Stay at the Slat tonight.” He finally broke the silence. She didn’t live far, but clearly she wasn’t safe and he couldn’t have that.

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look. It was seemingly out of the blue, and he didn’t exactly give much room for any discussion. 

“I want you to stay at the Slat tonight. It’s late, you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.” 

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Kaz perused the selection at Alwynn’s pawn shop. When he’d noticed that her necklace had been stolen, he knew that it had probably ended up in a pawn shop somewhere. No one stole jewelry off of ladies on the street to wear. No, clearly he needed money. 

He’d expected to have to go to more than one shop to find any relevant information, but no. It was almost too easy. He’d spotted the necklace on a display in  the front of the store. He recognized it immediately. The dainty gold chain could’ve easily been confused, but the locket that dangled from it, couldn’t be. 

“Mr. Brekker, I didn’t think of you as the jewelry type,” Alwynn gave a short laugh. 

“Well, Alwynn, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.” 

“That, I’m sure of.”

“How much did you buy it for?” Kaz inquired.

“Bought it for twenty-five. Selling it for forty-two.” Kaz wasn’t surprised. Alwynn had always been a crook. 

“Who brought it in?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t say. Merchant-client privilege, I’m sure you understand.” Alwynn appeared nervous now. Good.

“I’ll pay double the price.”

Alwynn thought for a moment. “His name’s Griffin. He came in yesterday afternoon. He’s been staying in the alley beside Burke’s.” 

“Thank you, Alwynn. It’s been a pleasure as always.” He was well aware that he probably could’ve stolen the necklace or threatened him without spending the kruge, but he decided to, for once, pick his battles. He slid over the proper amount of kruge before making his way to the door.

Kaz found Griffin exactly where Alwynn said he would be.He’d clearly been staying there, the pile of rags on the ground and empty bottles were scattered beside them. He almost felt sorry for him. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Kaz approached Griffin, making his presence known. The man, probably around twenty or so, must have been at least a little intelligent, because his expression was a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“Good evening Griffin,” Kaz crooned. “You know, I heard from a close source of mine that you met a lady around this area yesterday afternoon.” 

“I meet a lot of ladies around here.” Griffin scoffed.

“Well, this particular lady said that you threatened her. Stole her money and a necklace. Surely you would remember that. Unless, you make a habit out of stealing from women. Do you?”

“What?” 

“Do you only target women to  pay for your alcohol addiction, or was this particular lady just a special case?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered. 

“How much did you take?” Kaz growled, ignoring the obvious lie that had escaped from his mouth. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew. 17 kruge and her necklace (which he’d gotten thirty-five for at the shop), but he wanted to hear him admit it. 

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even if Kaz didn’t already know he was lying, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell. The sweat beading at his forehead, the way his eyes darted, the fact that he had around fifty-two kruge worth of bottles at his feet. It was too easy. 

“This wouldn’t happen to jog your memory would it?” Kaz held the chain out. Griffin’s face went pale. It was as if all of the color had simply vanished. “So, I’ll ask again: how much did you take?” 

“Not a lot, just seventeen kruge, and I’ll-”

“You’ll pay it back. In fact, you’re going to pay back the seventeen that you stole, the eighty-four I had to pay to buy the necklace back from the crook you sold it to, and an extra thirty kruge for making me get out in this dreadful cold to track down you and this necklace.” Kaz felt it to be a fair trade. For him at least. 

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well, I suggest that you find it before the week is out. Paid in full, and after that, I don’t want to see you back in Fifth Harbor again, and if I do, I’ll make sure that you end up at the bottom of the Harbor.” He turned to walk back towards the street, but he turned back before he got there. He swung his cane, hard, at Griffin’s right hand–his dominant one–earning a howl of pain. “Next time you decide to steal jewelry from a woman on the street, I would suggest selling it to a shop that’s not only a few feet away from where you’re staying.” 

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“What’s this?” She looked puzzled at the pouch of kruge that he’d dropped on the table in front of her. Kaz didn’t answer, and realization flooded over her face. “Kaz…” she gave him a stern look. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I would feel really guilty if you killed him.”

“Relax, I didn’t kill him.” Kaz scowled. “But, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else around Fifth Harbor anymore.”

“That really makes it sound like you killed him…”

“I did not kill him. I simply reminded him that it’s not very polite to threaten women.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Besides, if I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have gotten this back, would I?” He draped the gold chain over his gloved fingers. It was beside the point that he’d found the necklace before he’d found Griffin, and that he could’ve easily gotten it back had he killed him. She didn’t need to know that. 

“You got my locket back?” She gasped in disbelief. She took the chain, eyes wide. “How? Wait…” she paused. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll have you know that you’re missing out on quite the lovely story, then,” Kaz teased. 

“I’m sure. I think it’ll be far lovelier if I never find out, though.” She chuckled. “Because something tells me it involved some of your more extreme measures.”

“Not extreme enough if you ask me. He got to keep all of his fingers. You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re making me soft.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a gracious smile. 

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Kaz had never been one to fear others. He was fairly confident in his ability to fight his way out of a skirmish, should one come up, so why would he? He’d fought off far more men than the three in front of him on his own. What could he have to fear?

He had never been afraid, but all it took was a few goddamn words and his blood turned to ice. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that healer of yours, wouldn’t it?” A threat. A barely subtle attempt at one. In any other case, he probably would’ve laughed it off. Come up with some witty response. He didn’t have it in him. What if it wasn’t a bluff?

“If you touch her, I swear to you, I’ll gut you,” Kaz snarled. It wasn’t the smartest move. Now, there was no doubt that he cared. That they could use her against him. 

“The Bastard of the Barrel does have a heart, eh?” Rowell sneered. His last encounter with the Razorgulls hadn’t ended as smoothly as he’d hoped. They’d gone searching on him. Trying to find–well he supposed they did–find leverage. They’d finally found Kaz Brekker’s weakness. 

The words echoed through Kaz’s head. “Rowell, if you touch her, I can always pay a visit to Broad Street. I seem to recall that’s where your wife and daughter are? If I find out any of your men touched my healer, I’ll put a bullet in their heads myself.” He was good for it. Rowell knew it. He had never been above killing, and that was when he didn’t have something to lose. 

Rowell’s face contorted in alarm. Kaz knew where his family was. Kaz had just as much leverage as he did. The only difference was Kaz was far more ruthless than Rowell ever imagined. 

“You may think you’ve found my weakness, Rowell, and maybe you have, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise don’t waste my time and your breath just telling me about it.” With that, Kaz began his trek back to the Slat. For the first time in quite a long time, he was scared. They could very well call his bluff. By this point, Rowell could have already gotten to her by now. He’d spent so much of his time focusing on protecting her from the Barrel, that he’d forgotten that association with Kaz Brekker was the biggest threat of all. 

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It had been weeks since Rowell’s threat. He hadn’t taken it lightly. He didn’t think Rowell was brave enough to do anything, but if he’d noticed, it was only a matter of time before others would too, if they hadn’t already. 

He’d decided to keep his distance. That was the only way he knew how to keep her safe. Kaz Brekker was the most feared man in the Barrel because he had nothing to lose. If it came out that he did in fact care for anything… well he had a lot of enemies that would waste no time doing everything in their power to take it from him. 

He’d been avoiding her altogether. She was hurt. He knew that. It was better for her to be hurt than dead. 

He was making his way up the stairs to his study, ready to shut himself for the night to plan for the upcoming job he’d secured. It was nothing big, probably him, Jesper, and a couple of the newer recruits for the Dregs. Test their loyalty before anything major. 

He saw her near the bar talking to Jesper, laughing at something he’d said. He swiftly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xavier (ironically one of the new recruits he was planning to take) grab at her waist. He was quite intoxicated, slurring a remark that he couldn’t hear, but was almost certainly derogatory. She politely pushed him aside, muttering a soft ‘no thank you’, but Xavier wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Kaz didn’t even have time to think, really. He didn’t have to think. It was instinct. He ignored the pain in his leg and crossed the room. He’d never been the biggest fan of Xavier, so he didn’t feel too guilty about the punch that landed on the boy’s jaw. His knuckles throbbed from the contact, but he ignored it. When Xavier offered to try and return the blow, Kaz dodged the jab and cracked his cane over his back. 

“This is a respectable establishment, and that means when a woman says ‘no’ that’s the end of the discussion.” 

Kaz avoided her gaze, and made his way up to his study, but he was followed. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kaz muttered, sitting in his chair, finally resting his leg. 

“You’ve spent weeks acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re getting in bar fights to defend me? And what? You’re just going to go back to ignoring me?” She was hardly a confrontational person, so Kaz knew that she was angry by the sudden outburst. “I don’t get it. What did I do to make you decide that you hate me?” 

Surely she didn’t really believe that he hated her. “I don’t hate you.” He still didn’t look up. 

“So, what is it then?” She was blinking back tears. He felt guilty, a feeling that he didn’t even know he was capable of. 

“You seriously don’t get it?”

“No, I don’t get it!” She shouted. 

“I care about you!” He blurted. “Far more than I should.” His confession earned a scoff. “You don’t believe me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I?”

“Why? What would I possibly have to gain from lying to you about that?”

“I don’t know, but I never know anything with you!” 

“Fine, if you don’t believe me, then go. If you think I’m lying then why are you still here?” He didn’t believe that she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t. 

“I just want to know why! Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I already told you the truth, so what do you want from me?” Kaz suddenly felt defensive. “I care about you, and people noticed. Rowell threatened you straight to my face, and I realized that if people thought that you meant anything to me, then they’d come after you. They’d kill you to get to me, and that can’t happen.” 

“So, it was that easy then? You got scared that someone was going to come after me so you decided to just stop caring? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“That is not what I said. What I said was that if they thought that you were important to me, they would come for you. I never said that meant I stopped caring.” Kaz huffed. “This is the only way that I can be sure you’re safe.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I have a stake in this too?” She was letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t care who comes after me.”

“I can’t lose you.” Kaz shook his head. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I can’t guarantee that people won’t come for you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t exactly made a good reputation my priority.” Kaz attempted a joke, but really it served more as a warning. A glimpse into what being close to him would entail, which would mean always looking over your shoulder. 

“Believe it or not, I have actually caught on to that part…” She let out a soft chuckle. 

He reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. He took the opportunity to rest his gloved hand on her cheek. He felt his body tense. His hand fell. Flashes of the nightmare that he’d endured. Jordie’s cold grey skin. The smell of waterlogged rotten flesh. It was as if he was back in the harbor. Surrounded by nothing but death and decay. 

She seemed to notice his ordeal. Concern flashed through her eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Kaz?” He’d never told her about his brother. He’d never told anyone, really. As far as he was concerned, Kaz Rietveld had died in that harbor, but that wasn’t all true. If it had, he wouldn’t be damn near hyperventilating because he’d touched her. It was stupid. He was stupid. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. She probably thought he’d lost his mind.

“I think you need to rest,” she suggested. “I’ll run downstairs and grab you some water, I’ll be right-” 

“No.” His voice came out hoarse. 

“Kaz, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you should drink something.” 

“I want you to stay.” He sounded needy like a child and he hated it, but he also meant every word. “Please stay.” He grabbed her hand. Only this time, it was easier. He wasn’t thinking about death and despair. He wasn’t thinking about Jordie. He was thinking about her.